sinestro's might

that's the tragedy of all of this, Jordan......Hal... We'll always be friends ( mutuals only highly selective loved by anna ) est. 7/26/22 , revived 12/29/25

[fexrbound]

                                        ⇏ a study in power’s draw, in fear’s grip on the soul,                                                  in the effects and results of obsession & loss,                                                         an insight to authoritarianism’s draw,                                              what it means to be duty-bound no matter the cost,                                                        to sacrifice one’s humanity for the ends.                                                       most importantly, a study of one’s inner soul,                                                     how emotion cannot go one without the other,                                       how good men turn cruel, how a hardened heart brings suffering.                                                        how heroes can so easily become villains. ⇍

                                              HIGHLY SELECTIVE,                  MUTUALS & 18+ ONLY  indie rp blog for THAAL SINESTRO                                   from Dc Comics’ GREEN LANTERN.                   read my RULES & check out the DOC before interacting

                                                             ( loved by anna )

                                                  ⤞ law ⤞ about ⤞ask

[fexrbound]

{{ finally getting my feet back under me & sending you all so much love <3 thank you for being kind to me while I was emotionally incapable of being around

[fexrbound]

{{ I would appreciate any well wishes you all can throw my way. Mentally been really awful this week; got some news that sent me spiraling & just trying to piece myself back together now

[fexrbound]

⇏ @pittsass moved from x

The dying light of evening proved an immaculate show, a cascading entr'acte to define the captivation of night sky & glorify the wonder of the CELESTIAL ENTITIES ABOVE. Or, perhaps, it might have (if city lights & pollution of humanity's make did not, so frequently, blot them out,) cast a great fog over the shimmering brightness of constellations & faraway galaxies, & dim eyes to the splendor far above them.

                                         A disconnect. A potent separation.                                     Humanity, solitary amongst the stars,                                   & no longer turning their eyes to them.

What was a civilization, if it was not one to cast their eyes UP, to place their HOPES & DREAMS AMIDST THE CELESTIALS? What was LIFE if one could not ( d r e a m, ) with the galaxies cast, reflective, in their eyes?

Perhaps someday, with discipline, it would return. Perhaps, with ORDER RESTORED to a galaxy of immense CHAOS, all planets under  h i s  t h u m b  would learn, once again, to cast their eyes to the (far horizon.)

It is this search for DISORDER that has brought him here, to this place, again. Bathed in the inky blackness of night, drawn with long stride, the KORUGARIAN moves, with watchful eyes glimmering (bright,) like an animal. Searching, searching,-

                                   ......... Until he has seen HER.

The woman, on the bench. The very same as prior. Quaint.

He pauses a moment, watches her, observes as her hand reaches into the bag, & the other- & then his chin tips up, & his words fell heavy on the air.

"& here, I might have thought a doctor would trust her own people to attend her injuries."

[rpdepartment]

when does a ᴄᴏᴍᴇᴛ become a 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚘𝚛 ? when does a ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇ become a 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚣𝚎 ? when does a ʀɪᴘᴘʟᴇ become a 𝚝𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎 ? when does the ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ become the 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚖𝚎 ?

when does a ᴍᴀɴ become a 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 ?

[somewherefornow]

THAAL SINESTRO/YELLOW LANTERN & HAL JORDAN/GREEN LANTERN in SINESTRO (2014)

[somewherefornow]

ARIN SUR & THAAL SINESTRO (+SORANIK) in SINESTRO (2014)

[fourcorpsmen]

ABSOLUTE GREEN LANTERN #16 Cover Artist: JAHNOY LINDSAY

[fexrbound]

some mysterious person leaves a bag of bit o' honey on a window sill next to a bowl of cream.

Morning light casts warm tones against the sweets, cascades a rich amber hue from the honey to the milk-white of cream. Golden eyes assess, consider, then turn (scan the room about,) for prying eyes & nosy features, & someone who might benefit from the BLACKMAIL.

                  When it is concluded that there is no RISK, long hand reaches out,                  scoops cream upon his finger, presses it to his lips.

& For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, there is a rumble from somewhere DEEP in his chest.

                                   Contentment, audible.                                       A feline, pleased. 

[fexrbound]

my little meow meow

⇏ from x

Frankly, you should be grateful he isn't in the mood to KILL.                        Even if this pushes him CLOSE. 

[fexrbound]

So sorry about this buuuut Darcy probably calls him Kitten sometimes fdljfsdlksd

⇏ @suredid from x

Sinestro does well, usually, to withhold feeling & contain emotion, to wear IMPASSIVITY as his armor, an UNQUAKING ATLAS with the world atop his shoulders.                        But Darcy's words are a kind of idiocy he just CANNOT defend from.

His eyes dart, sidelong to her, lock upon her face ( as lip curls, teeth bared, ears that flatten almost immediately ) in aggravated DISAPPROVAL. If he hissed- (if he let himself hiss-) he might have.

"I do not believe I have given you permission to call me anything BUT my name."

It's a sharp correction, a snapping of brutal tongue, vitriol stained against his canines, (even as his face turns away, even as brow furrows tight above those gleaming eyes.)

"Sinestro will do. There will be nothing else besides."

[fexrbound]

followed you for amazing writing and a thoughtful portrayal of sinestro, stayed for the world's sweetest and loveliest mun AND the sheer love and passion for sin :)🩵💞 you go anna

⇏ @helraising from x

{{ COVERS MY FACE AHHHHHHHHHH. sans you know I adore you but thank you for always being so sweet to me. You've always been such an encouragement & you always make me feel good about this blog & I can never thank you enough for that. Thank you for caring for me & my magenta menace <3

[fexrbound]

Followed you for Sinestro because he’s lowkey my mans in DC stayed because you seem like such a sweet person and I love how you write him, he’s so carefully crafted and it’s got me twirling my Afro and kicking my feet.

⇏ @cowducted from x

{{ WAUGH ROLLS AROUND ON THE GROUND. I'm genuinely so glad you followed back. Thank you for your constant & continued kindness to me, & we are GOING to have to talk about the tall glass of water this shitty old man is bc good lord

[fexrbound]

01. backing away slowly and looking for exits. ( Pepper )

⇏ @thecoiiective from x

THE TOWER WAS A TARGET FROM THE MOMENT HE HAD CENTERED HIS EYES ON EARTH.

The Avengers, an order of rag-tag heroes, would be protectors, egotistical & disjointed & PATHETIC at every turn. It stood to reason, then, that they, (like any pests) would become an INFESTATION, a plague, a BLOT, best handled at the source.

                                            A nest to be smoked out,                                           to draw the pests to a well-placed trap.                                       Killing the disease at the source.

It was an EASY ENOUGH BREACH. Corpsmembers, yellow light, (the tower, crawling with agents of terror,) whose twisted, alien faces & snarling lips had peeled back in righteous fury & poisoned jubilation. Their Rings ignite- their bodies, swarming like insects, pouring into windows, focusing defenses, pooling where they may find best entrance-

                   & Their leader, like a General of War, bloodthirsty,               who takes not a seat ABOVE them, but one amidst them,          LEADING THE CHARGE.

He feels it. Fear. The city about them, those within- & the woman, THE WOMAN, whose eyes turn to every corner, searching not to FIGHT, but for her instinct's urge for FLIGHT. Sick-sweet, terror at the back of his tongue & settled at his throat. Something within him stirs- a beast, turning over his soul.

                                    & HE, WHO CASTS A LONG, TWISTING SHADOW                                under the vibrant halo of amber light.                           A variable LUCIFER, whose burning wings mirrored                       heaven's own glow.

"Now, now."

His voice is a purr, a deep rumble (like the crashing of waves against a distant shore.) It carries, collects within the center of the room, reverberates from the ceiling. A powerful quiet, a steady, monotone pace.

"You need not WORRY YOURSELF, my dear. I do not intend HARM GREAT- merely the RIGHTING of  w r o n g."

A shining light in the darkness. His stride is long, as he steps forward, TOWARD HER, as his chin tips DOWN, tucks against his neck, as golden eyes burn HOT like an animal in the night. The sigil on his chest, like a black hole, seeping. The Ring, glistening, SINESTRO'S MIGHT.

"I suggest you do not TEMPT MY SOLDIERS- they are under  o r d e r  d i r e c t- I would be loathe for them to assess your FLEEING as attempt to garner REINFORCEMENTS."

[fexrbound]

“Are you real?” ( trent )

⇏ @rubiesintherough from x

It's a laughable question, really, typical of its source. Humans, such FICKLE creatures, so bound to whim & wish & a pointed lack of UNDERSTANDING. No matter their PROCLIVITIES- no matter their talents.

                                 A species that remained so TERRIBLY SIMILAR,                                                                      one in all.

Ears tilt back, lips that tug, thin (pursed line,) Disapproval that writes long lines across the Korugarian's brow, twinges at the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, & those well-worn against the corners of his mouth- (many years spent in sallow, sour disposition.)  

"How  s u r p r i s i n g.  Another human, behaving as a fool."

Muscles coil, turn over under skintight flightsuit, as the Lantern's face turns (AWAY,) as powerful shoulders turn from the MAN, the vigilante, as body shifts from Sinestro's opposite ENTIRELY. There is no respect here- there is no IMPORTANCE.  This conversation was not worth the  e f f o r t.

"I would suggest BROADENING YOUR VISION, lest you cage yourself to the sorry confines of your  h u m a n i t y." 

[fexrbound]

' What was that? The noise and the light? ' ( seven )

⇏ @rubiesintherough from x

THE NOISE & THE LIGHT. The man, who had collapsed beneath the weight of FEAR'S GRASP, crumbled in the fist of the Yellow Lantern, who stood with pride & POWER above them. A petty criminal, another RAT in a filthied alleyway- another bit of CHAOS to be banished, he who would see harm wrought upon an INNOCENT.

                   Sinestro holds the criminal aloft,               suspended by the front of his shirt, body LIMP            in a daze, A STRANGE CATATONIC STATE, like he was caught                      not in a dream...

But a nightmare.

Golden eyes turn, cast away from the PREY, onto that which would have been the victim, (the target of the thief, the criminal.) The girl, who stands [ M O R E  like a  G H O S T  than a person ] below them.

"The light."

Something glimmers behind those eyes, as the words touch his lips, dance, (velvet) on his tongue. Animalistic, piercing. A thing to stare into the VERY SOUL. His chin tips, his head cocks- ears turn, attention upon Seven, alone.

                      He considers her words. He parses them over his consciousness,                  he watches the conversation as one might a playboard,              pieces ever moving, the outcome just out of grasp.

"A construct. A force, of unimaginable power."

The answer, fed slowly, words plucked one by one from the air. His fist shifts, turns- the man (limbs forfeit,) the criminal, like a PRIZE KILL in his palm,- & the RING catches streetlight. It glints. It shines.

                                            It feels as if SOMETHING,                                        a great MONSTER,  carnivore,                                     is watching.

The kind of dread that raises the hair along the nape.  The kind of terror that made one question everything they'd seen.

The KING OF FEAR & the EXPERIMENT.

"A tool, of the Emotional Spectrum; an enforcer of Order's Might." 

[fexrbound]

04. presses their back against the wall with eyes darting around the room. ( mahia )

⇏ @rubiesintherough from x

Idle hands made the devil's work- a human saying, ancient ties to OLD BELIEFS, a proverb to SCARE, to humble & submit those about them. The oldest means of ORDER.... the most reliable sense of CONTROL. & who was HE, the   K o r u g a r i a n,   to deny them? (They were not false, after all-) there was no fault in their logic.

                                                            It was Fear                                                        that would keep the average man in line.

There had been tell of heightened PETTY CRIME on this planet's capital city; It was a backwater thing, a strange rock overshadowed by its great moons & shimmering stars, an odd & secluded people. Just another, caught in the pathway of the LANTERN, in his attempt to find his people NEW HOME- new  h o p e.... & what had once been A QUIET REFUGE had shifted OVERNIGHT. (What had been a peaceful escape was now turned upside down.) Illuminated with Yellow Light. Crawling with Corpsmembers-

Perhaps had they not, Mahia would be scott free. Perhaps, had it been a different week, day, (HOUR,) she might've been able to sneak off with her supplies.

            But it is in this moment that the KING OF FEAR,                 the one who forged terror's Rings,                   had shone his HORRIBLE LIGHT, (like a searchbeam) upon her,                     & caught her in DISORDER'S ACT.

Thin lips press tight, a chin that raises as golden eyes SHIMMER, as shadows seem to twist & turn over themselves, at his heel. He stands in the doorway, THIS LANTERN, MAKER OF ORDER, with powerful muscles & insignia of Fear upon his chest. Behind his spine, his hands fold- upon his face, DISAPPROVAL. Assessment.

                                        "There is no place to run, my dear."

His eyes, searing through her. His gaze, caught upon her face, (looking, perhaps, into her very soul.)

"There is no need to FEAR if you have done no  w r o n g."