#saintskywalker

Why would you say this ��

well you wouldn’t agree w this. obviously! 

Like when women in fics always taste like cherries... Dean should smell like hair products imo

✦ An Apocalyptic Dream

Her eyes had been set to stare out the viewport as she watched the neverending green and blue that encompassed the serene hue of her planet grow smaller and smaller.

It bothered her that she sat with forced contentment, her exit from her beloved home not of her choice. But it was, she’d walked aboard the transport ship independently, and above all else, willingly.

She just couldn’t fathom why. She hadn’t wanted  to, yet she vocalized her agreement in leaving, her limbs having moved elegantly in their desired direction.

Ohhh, but she knew. She knew the solemnly clad figures and their art. It had always been spoken of in ( hushed whispers ) cautionary tales, tales that even surpassed the child tales of fantasies gone wrong.

Again so smoothly they spoke and she responded ( but it felt detached,something she certainly wouldn’t agree to ), signing her name on some intergalactic document- legal throughout all systems in the galaxy.

Send "die" for a drabble of my muse dying

Aniasis was done. She was old, she was sick, and she was tired. She was ready to die. She lingered in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness, death and life in the bed she once shared with her husband. His scent had long since vanished from the linens and pillows. 

Aniasis was tethered to machines as her husband once was, although hers were temporary, immobile and external. No one expected her to last much longer. Her light weight respirator was changed out to a heavy duty one as her lungs began to falter more and more. A heart and blood pressure monitor beeped faithfully in the background, both becoming slower and fainter. She was still on a feeding tube and IV hydration. The IV also provided pain management and sleep, but she wished that she had made it known that she did not want any life prolonging procedures or equipment. She was done.

Surrounded by family, friends and hospice workers, the only thing she was truly frightened of was whether or not she would see Lord Vader...Anakin, on the other side. Would his spirit be in the same place as hers? He was Force Sensitive and she was not.  Would that separate them? Would he be too busy doting on Padme that he never turned a blind eye to her?

She heard a med droid read her vitals out and either Mira or Eri burst into tears. Everything sounded as though she was underwater and sound was from above her. All she had to do was let go, to sink lower and lower until there was nothing left of her. 

With a sigh, Lady Aniasis Vader died at 83 standard years from complications of oxygen toxicity. 

Her death was announced to the galaxy, it’s citizens looking with either mild interest or morbid glee.

Sith whore!

Imperial Scum!

They called her. She was one of the last remnants of the Empire, a reminder that he existed. She fallen out of the galaxy’s good graces as the Empire did.