LOVE WON'T SAVE YOU, PADMÉ.

her body dragged from the water and left to dry in the light. untouched. she could almost be sleeping in the sun. could you imagine that kind of peace? peace that is not peace, but a girl lowered somewhere out of the way. six feet under. somewhere new, somewhere where her name can be her own. where flowers can grow purple from her wrist. independent, private, and highly selective blog for padmé amidala, of the star wars franchise. heavily canon divergent and headcanon based. adored by ophelia, and established january of 2017.

[eleutherial]

I’VE MOVED !

anyway lms if you want my new url, i’ll dm it to you <3

[eleutherial]

I’VE MOVED !

anyway lms if you want my new url, i’ll dm it to you <3

[eleutherial]

is this because i said padmé had more big dick energy than anakin? because i stand by that statement.

[eleutherial]

good morning everyone padmé amidala has more big dick energy than anakin and obi-wan combined and in this essay I will

[eleutherial]

This post was about me missing my rp blog but that’s fine I guess

[eleutherial]

i.......miss.....padmé.....

[eleutherial]

i might make a formal post about this soon or i might just delete this and pretend like it never happened but uhhhhh

i’m probably gonna be leaving the tumblr rpc for good soon. we’ll see what happens. 

[eleutherial]

listen i’m not gonna be out here naming names or nothing but like,,,,, Some Of You,,,,,, Need To Stop Preaching Love And Kindness And Tolerance For Other People’s Feelings When You Genuinely Don’t Give A Shit About Anyone’s Feelings Or Wellbeing But Your Own,

[eleutherial]

also while i’m saying shit: 

if this entire website could calm down for literally like two fucking minutes and stop being so toxic for literally 120 seconds that would be amazing thank you

[eleutherial]

listen i’m not gonna be out here naming names or nothing but like,,,,, Some Of You,,,,,, Need To Stop Preaching Love And Kindness And Tolerance For Other People’s Feelings When You Genuinely Don’t Give A Shit About Anyone’s Feelings Or Wellbeing But Your Own,

[parfym]

I’m afraid of everything. But maybe when you’re afraid of everything, it sort of seems like you’re scared of nothing.

[mjwatson]

reblog this and put your eye colour, hair colour, and height in the tags!

[eleutherial]

LOVE AS THE PURSUIT OF A FOOL / LOVE AS A PALACE FROM RUINS. // @raveterna​

          ‘  what  we  do  tonight  matters  little ,  I’m  believe ,  and  it’s  definitely  not  their  concern .  ’  let  them  think ,  he  tells  himself —–  let  them  assume  that  the  night  has  been  spent  in  the  consummation  of  their  union ;  if  that’s  all  everyone  cares  about ,  then  they  will  surely  BELIEVE  it  happened  even  if  they  see  it  not  with  their  own  eyes .  he  allows  the  expanse  of  the  room  to  SEPARATE  them  as  he  moves  towards  the  two - seater  on  the  other  side  of  the  room .  ‘  those  who  arranged  this  may  not  care  about  whether  we  know  each  other ,  but  they’re  foolish  if  they  expect  this  to  be  built  upon  ignorance .  if  we  simply , well ,  talked  –  would  that  be  acceptable ?  ’      ╱     @eleutherial !

SHE SAYS NOTHING AS HE MOVES, says nothing as he speaks, watching him warily from the vanity she stands by. one hand clutches the edges of her white lace robe together at her middle, the flimsy fabric threatening to tear under her grip. ( she takes a moment to reflect on her foolishness ––– he is moving away from her, and has not spared a single glance at her barely clothed form, and she is both grateful and, oddly, almost irritated at that. ) after a moment of listening to him and watching him the same way she’d watch a wild animal, padmé reaches for the vanity, her fingers closing over a bejeweled pin. she uses it to pin together the robe her handmaidens had slipped over her shoulders an hour before, keeping herself clothed and covered, and then reaches for the cloth meant to remove her face paint. still, she doesn’t wipe at her skin just yet. ( for some reason the idea of losing the ghostly white makeup on her skin and the scar of remembrance on her lip, the idea of letting him see her bare faced, feels a bit TOO INTIMATE for her just now. ) still, she continues to hold onto it as she walks, bare feet silent against the marble floor, to the love seat he occupies now. she lowers herself onto it, her knee bumping carelessly against his, and nods, slowly. ❛ i think i could manage, ❜ she says, a bit of humor in her tone, a smile sparkling somewhere behind her eyes. 

[eleutherial]

😒😒😒

[eleutherial]

hey if y’all could click this and take this survey i would appreciate it thanks for coming to my ted talk

[eleutherial]

hey if y’all could click this and take this survey i would appreciate it thanks for coming to my ted talk

[rutalonidir]

@eleutherial  run  away  w/  me  your  bf  is  crispy  and  mine  is  a  bird  

[eleutherial]

I'm so much happier now that I'm dead. Technically missing. Soon to be presumed dead. Gone. And my lazy lying shitting oblivious husband will go to prison for my murder. Anakin Skywalker took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money. He took and took from me until I no longer existed. That's murder. Let the punishment fit the crime. To fake a convincing murder you have to have discipline. You befriend a local idiot. Harvest the details of her hundrum life and cram her with stories about your husband's violent temper. Secretly create some money troubles: credit cards, perhaps online gambling. With the help of the unwitting, bump up your life insurance. Purchase getaway car. Craigslist. Generic. Cheap. Pay cash. You need to package yourself so that people will truly mourn your loss. And Coruscant loves pregnant women. As if it's so hard to spread your legs. You know what's hard? Faking a pregnancy. First, drain your toilet. Invite pregnant idiot into your home and ply her with lemonade. Steal pregnant idiot's urine. Voilà! A pregnancy is now part of your legal medical record. Happy Anniversary. Wait for your clueless husband to start his day. Off he goes... and the clock is ticking. Meticulously stage your crime scene with just enough mistakes to raise the specter of doubt. You need to bleed. A lot. A lot, a lot. The head wound kind of bleed. A crime scene kind of bleed. You need to clean; poorly, like he would. Clean and bleed, bleed and clean. And leave a Little something behind: a fire in July? And because you're you, you don't stop there. You need a diary. Minimum three hundred entries on the Anakin and Padmé story. Start with the fairy-tale early days: those are true, and they're crucial. You want Anakin and Padmé to be likable. After that, you invent. The spending, the abuse, the fear, the threat of violence. And Anakin thought he was the writer... burn it, just the right amount. Make sure the cops will find it. Finally, honor tradition with a very special treasure hunt. And if I get everything right, the world will hate Anakin for killing his beautiful, pregnant wife. And after all the outrage, when I'm ready, I'll go out on the water with a handful of pills and a pocket full of stones. And when they find my body, they'll know: Anakin Skywalker dumped his beloved like garbage, and she floated past all the other abused, unwanted, inconvenient women. Then Anakin will die too. Anakin and Padmé will be gone, but then we never really existed. 

[eleutherial]

i brought you blue. lemme smash???? ?

wut in shiraya’s name,