ELASTIC HEART. @westengryre-blog - Tumblr Blog

okay i need to take a really, really long hiatus and i dont know when ill be back and im really sorry but i cannot get back on this account or any of my fucking accounts and i wish i could give a reason but im just tired and sad and i cant do anything right anymore

im sorry to all my mains/exclusives ill tyr to come back but you guys might as well find a replacement and ill just go pretend you didnt so i wouldnt hate myself so much

#im so osrry

I’m really sorry for not being here lately! Shit has happened at home and pretty much everywhere, and I’m busy wrapping up an illustration for a zine I’m working on :’)))) I’ll be back soon!

#⟨ .OOC #RIP my life tbh!!!

kylo-i-feel-it-too-deactivated2

— kylo ren | tfa effect ib skywalkers cc xmysticflame (edited) lowkey in love w him ngl

#⟨ .I SEE FIRE

the-write-ideas

What's the most noticeable/noteworthy thing about my writing style?

#⟨ .PROMPTS

HEORTGRYRE.

He is shrouded in darkness, steeped in it, so full of anger he fears it shall kill him; for so long has he resisted it, but now it is too much. Here is the traitor, the deceiver, the one who murdered half the Jedi in cold blood. Here is his own padawan, who turned her back not just on him, but on the whole of the Order, who led them to their slaughter. How can he not be angry? How can he not let the hatred consume him? Oh, certainly, it is not the Jedi way – but that can be damned, for he is blind to it. He sees only red, a terrible, wonderful red; it envelops and comforts and burns and covets, and he is the instrument of its implementation. As though of its own accord his saber flies to his hand, flickers to life, three prongs of green illuminating all the wrath that has collected about him. And, oh, is it a sight to behold!

Who could have ever thought that sweet Ben is so hateful? Who could have guessed the gentle giant merely left his ire slumbering? But it has awoken – it reared its head when he watched his darling sister cut down her compatriots, when he found himself surrounded by the blood and bodies of younglings and padawans and knights alike. Within every man is a monster, and the horrific serves naught save to beget more horrors. And now he stands, a consular no more – his negotiations are conducted on the field of battle, his treatises writ in blood.

“You betrayed us.”

Yet this is still his padawan. And, oh, how truly frightened she looks. His own soft heart, though surrounded by walls of thorns, still aches in empathy. He knows why this road was taken – he knows the voice that whispers between darknesses, that murmurs the forbidden into naive minds. He knows, and he remembers how inescapable it seemed. The knowledge, however, does not lessen his hate. But it serves to redirect it, to the Supreme Leader, to Snoke, to the monster that he prays he will one day be able to forget.

The monster took his padawan. Now it is time for the monster to die.

He holds his lightsaber steady, shifting to a more defensive position; the Dark Side swirls about him, but the teachings of the Jedi run deep in his bloodline. He is not blind to the way of the Light, not after he has recognized his true enemy. He embraces the shadow, knowing full well that it is cast by the Jedi way. He will not kill – that would be too much. He cannot say if this is a rescue, or an intervention, or a lost cause, but he knows that, whatever it may be, it is his last chance.

“I don’t want to fight you, Rey. You can still fix this.”

She SNARLS. How could she not, when all she hears is FILTH? Again, again, whispers and reassurances spoken in the same breath - So long have words suffocated her, drowned her in sweet deception and cruel reality, all at once and repeated again, and again, and again. She tires of it, wishes only to be free from it - But demons and monsters are bound to their sins; That is the only path left for her to take. And is such a path not so sweetly taken? Is blind resignation not as sweet as death?

Emerald green light bounces off the snow in a furious growl, and Rey decides - NO.

Death is much, much sweeter. Perhaps if she must choose to die, it would be with the bright green of LIFE piercing through her, ridding her of a galaxy’s gift; The kiss of breath. Yes, death would be much sweeter - It would be a MERCY. It would be, by all means, the only acceptable mercy. For none exists within the hearts of people. And so she finds herself drawn to this MERCIFUL light, its hue promising life. It promises the avenging of life; It promises her death. What sweet relief it might be, she muses, to be relieved of the lives on her hands, her shoulders, her weak, BROKEN heart.

It is when he speaks again, guttural TRUTH spilling past his lips, that Rey remembers herself. Her fear returns, turning into a frightful ANGER. She raises her saber, the bright red reaching into her eyes, and the added hue makes her look SICKLY -- And oh! Oh, is she so SICK and TIRED of this. This spectral image has done nothing but remind her of her sins.

❝ — FIX WHAT? ❞

It’s a desperate cry, words broken by the crack in her voice. Her sick eyes blink angrily, and teeth GRIT as she steps forward. There is something twisted in the way she transforms with each passing tree. Her posture grows more hunched, eyes growing DARKER, and the grip around her saber tightens. Step after step, one after another, and words spill from her lips - Unhindered, unrestrained. Here she is now, the CAGED DOG released from her restraints, starved of warmth and love and FAMILY.

❝ THERE’S NOTHING TO FIX. Nothing left to save - not when you find it so EASY to remind me what I did to you and say I can FIX IT in the same breath. They died at my hands. I killed - - So many of them. I - ❞

Another passing tree, another stage of her metamorphosis.

❝ — I was going to kill you, too. ❞

She can see him so clearly now that her fury has closed the distance. The clarity breaks her, blinds her even - And here, in her final stage, where monstrosity has replaced what humanity has been left, she nearly weeps. There, from eyes RED and SCORCHED with a cruel sickliness, well the tears that hold the revelations of years spent in brokenness.

Her saber still remains in front of her; Blinding.

#⟨ .HEORTGRYRE #⟨ .R PAR #⟨ V. BLOODSTREAM #i want to Die

TORTUREDMEMORY.

CONFUSION DISTORTS HIS WORDS when Peeta replies, head tilting to regard the other with curious CAUTION. “ – What kind of settlements, then? ” it’s a gentle inquiry though a nervous one at that.

Rey ignores the look, disregarding him as her focus is instead placed on a loose part of her quarterstaff. Funny - she’d thought she fixed that the other day. ❝ — There’s some religious occult down that way, ❞ she says, pointing the opposite end of her staff in some vague direction. Then, she turns, some ways to to the east. ❝ Lots of fallen ships that way, too, if you’re feeling like settling down instead. I’d warn you against hanging out with the scavengers there though. Not a lot of hospitality here on Jakku. ❞

❝ — What are you, then? Crash survivor? ❞

#⟨ .TORTUREDMEMORY #⟨ .R SCR #⟨ V. CHANGE IN THE DAYLIGHT

ISCAROTIA.

@westengryre

the girl. they know her as the jedi killer. an impressive title, for someone who looks otherwise unremarkable. the padawan of a young man by the name of ben solo. the son of general leia organa and the infamous smuggler, han solo. he doesn’t know much beyond that, beyond the fact she has no family, beyond the fact the supreme leader was focused on her, her crossover to the dark side, the benefits of having her within the first order.

as the master of the knights of ren, andacis—shorja ren, your name is shorja ren as you are nothing but a dog for the supreme leader to groom and send after his enemies at his leisure—was now being subjected to the taunts of the starkiller’s general, subtle and snide, about how a silly little girl may end up taking his place. unlikely. even shorja ren can tell she’s not cut out for it. the supreme leader is ambitious, but he’s also intelligent.

sabers powered down, clipped to his belt. helmet hisses as he pops it off, shaking his hair out around his head. the training grounds were located deep within the base. the walls and floors scarred from past sparring sessions gone too far, too bloody. the stains on durasteel further prove that. the entirety of the grounds holds a sense of eeriness, sends a chill even down shorja’s spine.

“continue working on your form. you leave yourself too open, you keep trying to stab instead of slice. but you’re fast. with more training, you’ll be difficult to land a hit on,” when the supreme leader cannot train, shorja ren takes his place. he is by no means gentle in his techniques, but he doesn’t punish the girl for perhaps positioning her feet wrong, for an awkward swing.

and he is not unkind. however, he needs to maintain a certain air of professionalism, of distance. occasional master and student, nothing more. they will not be friends. he cannot feel a single ounce of empathy for her despite the fact she holds the same fire, the same desperation in her eyes he once did.

and she does not know HIM. she knows some things about him: the fear he creates in the members of the FIRST ORDER, that the SUPREME LEADER favors him so. she knows the way he fights - trained, skilled, years spent learning. no - not learning, not JUST. she knows him to be MASTER OF THE KNIGHTS OF REN, after all. and while she’s not sure what exactly such a title entails, she knows there’s power in it - power she cannot, and will not, allow herself to want for.

her eyes flicker down to the ruined durasteel, head bowed as he speaks. it’s less respect and more FEAR; it seems that’s all she’s felt these days. swallowing, restraining, and terrible FEAR, clawing at her and ridding her of oxygen. REY clutches tightly to her saber, fingers coiling around the hilt.

she’s a careful listener, but reckless when she turns over words and analyzes them. she wonders, briefly, if the KNIGHT thinks her a disappointment - she is the JEDI KILLER, the bringer of death for the ORDER. those she had called brothers, sisters, and siblings have died at her hands, yet here she stands, criticized for her imperfect form. SHORJA REN must think her base; a stroke of luck that will only expire in a few months’ time. but then he continues - a praise. it is not uncommon from him, and for that she’s thankful, but she takes it as more reassurance than it is meant to be.

❝ — YES, MASTER REN. ❞ rey says softly, muffled more by thin strip of gray. but there’s a hint of a smile, and she’s thankful that it’s hidden. he thinks she is not a complete loss, she speculates, and nearly believes. is that not enough?

❝ Can I ask a question? ❞

#⟨ .ISCAROTIA #⟨ .R PAR #⟨ V. BLOODSTREAM

mytamakomysookee

Domhnall Gleeson at IFTA 2014

#⟨ .to be tagged #?? ? ? ?? ??????#fellgryre #look at this?????

subtle butt touch

uses force to make u slap ur own face

y u hittin urself, hux,

#[ inwardly ] u can do that later #fellgryre #⟨ .COMMLINK

Hello, hello! I’m in a good mood! I’m going to be working on some drafts while watching Clone Wars, and every now and then I’ll probably fill up the blank spaces in my sketchbook. If anyone wants to chat my IM’s open to everyone, and whoever has me on Skype can bother me there too :’)

#aaaah im so close to finishing this sketchbook #even tho technically it IS finished #there are just. some pages that have a lot of space still #ljhkhkj #im debating buying a new sketchbook or like. living off of computer paper #the first option involves money and the second option involves risking losing drawings and im just suffering #SHRUGS THOUGH #hi!#⟨ .OOC

jessikapva-deactivated20160416

daisyridley #fridayfitness! (For anyone that’s gonna try and correct my form I KNOW it isn’t the best, I’ve just started doing sprint training so progressing all the time!) this was a tiny segment of my training but it looks cool cause I’m running with a freaking parachute 😏😏😏 and yes that is my chiropractor being my ‘starting blocks’ ahahaha

[x]

#⟨ .ELASTIC HEART #SHE IS SO PURE