#iinquiisitor

[filonified-blog]

why did you give my kids helisabers? just...//why?//

❝  let’s look at this way:   how do you balance out the stupid idea of bringing maul back, to make it look less stupid? helisabers. in comparison, maul’s return doesn’t seem so dumb, right?  ❞

[lovesblindly-blog1]

❝ here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed. ❞

richard siken starters.

      SPOILED SELFISH LITTLE CHILD.  to be so presumptuous, to be so arrogant  –  these vices tallying against his case, further weighing down a sunken dignity.  in another time the tremor that aches at his soul would have him bowed and pitiful  ;  ASK NOT FOR FORGIVENESS.  there is nothing in this forsaken hour that can be atoned for.  had he known somehow, deep down, that it would one day come to this?  perhaps not this. he had envisioned a different conclusion for these matters. rot bones and shallow trench graves, names quickly discarded. forgotten. DEAD BEFORE THEY KNOW.  (  whereas she was vivacious ; she reckoned themselves as near immortals  —-  self aware death was inevitable. yet led herself to believe she was untouchable. )  oh how wrong, how wrong had they both been.  drunk off power and starved, addicted to this sadistic idea of affection these two had become  —  BLINDED  by misleading ideas that they were capable to manipulate as they willed it, to get away with every atrocity, every defiance committed.  

     remember.  declarations shared on tender nights.  whispers harsh like lashings spoken betwixt and between breathless sweet nothings.  remember.  how it felt to be alive  (  if only, for a few moments  )  when she had been his in his arms and the deceiving sense that there was something sentimental,  something gentle lurking within her.  had it ever been real?  had it ever  …  ?   that laughter, melodious and wicked over the misery of others. of his own misery.  remember how she was WILDFIRE and not meant to be gentle.  one would best remember  ;  a sob chokes in his own throat.  his world was coated in obsidian, ink, nothingness. a blank void. she was a hidden lure beyond the onyx veil that made him long for sight. 

   and now, now she is NOTHINGNESS.  how did it happen?  how did you  …  ?  why waste that breath, why give him exactly what he was longing to hear?  (  strangled cries and struggling coherency ; agony seemingly depleted in youth only to return now.  )  that deceiving fragility is all too real, in his arms she was always so small, frail if he surmised the strength to crush her.  come back, come back to me.  words unspoken but the thought for effort was in vain regardless.  for the force is UNFORGIVING and the galaxy MERCILESS as told time and time before.  cold, cold, colder.  is there ever an appropriate moment in this instance to be thankful for blinded vision, an inability to truly see for himself how it had been done?  tears will not be shed nor will rage be displayed.  in a way, they had planned for this.  one arm draws her body closer, her head lulling lifelessly against the crook of his neck   –   he shivers. the familiarity, the softness of her hair that he oh so adored brushing against the surface of his skin one last time  –  and with his free hand draws his saber, and ignites. 

      ❛  …  and here is the image of your legacy destroyed.  ❜   he seethes with something that would seem like a grin, had hysteria not unconsciously had him within its grips by the tears that befall blinded eyes, and turns the blade towards himself.

[lovesblindly-blog1]

❝ history repeats itself. ❞

richard siken sentence starters.

   cycles are monotonous.  predictable patterns observed by astronomers from eons past, of the rise and fall patterns of suns and stars. when there is light, dark will inevitably follow suit. where there is dark, light will return.  (  wrong. painful, blatant lies.  )  cycles contain a sense of comfort because of familiarity.  the next move is always calculated.  nothing is unpredictable nor sacred.  these laws also pertain to the ending  —-  WRONG. because in cycles the end never comes. the being trapped is wound up once more, still recovering from the dizzying after effects of traveling in circles, only made to keep going. 

   history, on the other hand, does not repeat. it contains subtle ironies that lurk and wait for their time to reprise once more. it relishes through the prospect of attention given by those cautious eyes who keep note of parallelisms in this unending story ; which fate is worse?  a soul with bountiful, harmful knowledge or an ignorant fool unprepared for the wave of forthcoming horrors. THE ANSWER:   even he, too, is still unsure. the role is not his to choose, it depends on the day. 

 and it is not his place to make this counter argument. the wisest  ( the most vile )  man is the one who seals his lips shut, who  refrains  from warning others of what is to come. the one who knows and knows the consequences, yet says  nothing.  some do this for self satisfaction  —-   the sight of others suffering in their place brings a sense of distorted  peace. and in some occasions, this reason rings true for him.   but as of right now?   ——-   the silence is to ensure he survives. to speak against the one he looks upon in  morbid sense  as a father figure is an unwise move 

       ❛    —–   then  it  seems  none of us  will  ever  learn.    ❜   words spoken with such bitter resolve, he concludes without ever once looking towards the other that had first spoken  (  where is the use ?  they both know there is none. )     —-     WE ARE ALL TRAPPED HERE.  made to serve,  born to die.  without  any means of escape and without a place to go in this displaced, chaotic wasteland.  children will still be stolen in the night and  those deemed weak, which come in masses of numbers,  massacred. the ones left wished they had joined the others.  ONE FALLS.  ONE IS REPLACED.  NO ONE IS REMEMBERED.  no one.   ❛  —-  will we?  ❜

[unfavoredheir]

          THE  MEMORY  STAYS  WITH  HIM.  elongated  fingertips  graze  across  tender  flesh  of  still-healing  wounds  ‘pon  his  face.  it  does  not  hurt  much,  not  anymore  in  the  months  that  have  passed  since.  the  nerves  are  burnt.  dead.  (  THE  STENCH  FAMILIAR.  )  this  causes  him  to  recall  a  memory   ------------   the  unusual  circumstance  leads  him  to  turning  to  the  one  responsible  for  this   . . .   anything.  anything  is  better  than  silence  after  all.

                           ❛  do  you  recall  the  predicament  of  the  sixth  brother?   ❜

┊ ˚˖↷  @iinquiisitor

[unfavoredheir]

   dad  pls  love  me

[burntmartyr]

        ❛   i  love  you.   ❜    she  speaks  flatly,  addressing  them  both  without  glancing  to  either  one  -------  she  cannot.  as  though  she  anticipates  never   seeing  either  one  again  (  it  is  not  something  she  hopes  for  ;  it  is  the  state  of  matters.  the  truth. )  and  so  a  heavy  silence  befalls  the  room.  for  she  is  vulnerable  and  these  are  dangerous  words.  there  is  a  heave,  a  longing  ache  in  her  ribs.  at  last,  she  finishes  ;    ❛  so promise me.  promise  me  that  you  will  come  back  to  me.  ---------  please.   ❜

┊ ˚˖↷ @iinquiisitor  ˚˖↷  @lasanslayed

[firstspectre]

hello naughty jedi it's murder time

oh no... so scary.... listen, been there done that