#vesper's writing

[fullmoonfireball]

Olimar was dead, he knew that much. And yet, here he was.

He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a little ball and rot away, in the hopes his soul might get the chance to return to the stars, but he couldn't. The Pikmin needed him- even if he wished they didn't- and his limbs kept moving, dragging him and his squad forward.

It was already past noon, meaning he only had so much time to figure out what to do without the trusty S.S. Dolphin before sunset. With how badly she had been crashed, her frame reduced to a twisted heap of metal, there was no way he could fix her enough to fly to safety before night fell. And as much as he wished he was fully dead, being devoured by the native wildlife didn't sound appealing in the slightest.

Thankfully, he noticed, it seemed the Pikmin had no interest listening to his internal monologue at the moment, or else they surely would've erupted into screams and cries at such a thought as Leader being eaten. No, instead they were busy singing amongst themselves. The melody and rhythm were simple, but the lyrics... Maybe his stem wasn't as good at translating as he initially thought. Something about love? Or angels? He shook his head. There was no point in getting caught up on the tune, not when the fact he didn't understand them meant he wasn't a Pikmin, and especially not when there were things to do... Or so he would've thought, if something about the tune didn't make him think of sweet smells, like those of the berries his dear wife tended to in their backyard...

Olimar stopped in his tracks. A few of the less attentive Pikmin bumped into his back, and the singing stopped. He was hungry. He almost wanted to smile. Maybe he wasn't quite as dead as he thought if his digestive system still worked. Of course, that almost-joy was short lived. They'd been walking for a couple hours now- going back to the Dolphin's wreck to fish out some instant space noodles would be a fool's errand even if he wasn't sick of eating them, which meant...

The air filled with various buzzes, and Olimar could physically feel the Pikmin's excitement. Their Leader had an actual, material task to do. Olimar took a deep breath and whistled. The buzzing quieted as the Pikmin stood at attention, and Moss, who had been at the back of the group making sure there were no stragglers, rushed to his side. He climbed up on her back, and the Pikmin followed.

"You think you can sniff out a tasty creature?" he cooed. She sniffed at the ground around her before letting out an affirmative bark, rushing forward in a new direction. Moss had presumably lived here for her entire life, she had to know what was and wasn't edible, right?

Olimar couldn't help but turn to look behind him. Moss's leaf-tipped tail blended in perfectly with the stems of the Pikmin clinging to her back, only distinguished by its teal colour. If it was just a bit less green, it would look exactly like the stems the blue Pikmin. One of his hands strayed to his own stem, tugging it down in front of his face. Its shade of red matched perfectly with his gloves, a bit darker than that of the red Pikmin. He grimaced and let it go, turning forwards once more. Olimar gripped harder onto Moss's fur. He shouldn't dwell on such thoughts. He should be planning how to prepare the meal, or where they would go tonight... Perhaps a cave would work. It definitely wouldn't be as safe as the sky, but the natural darkness the creatures were accustomed to down there would mean they were less likely to go into a frenzy. Yes, they could clear out an area near the cave's exit to wait for the sun to rise again. And with how strangely time worked down there, he could sleep for however long he needed... Oh, how nice that would be...

It wasn't much longer until Moss screeched to a halt, a safe distance from a sleeping Bulborb with three Dwarf Bulborbs. Considering how many Pikmin the creatures had eaten, it only seemed fair that he should get to eat one of them. He reached behind him to grab a Pikmin, and readied himself to throw, considering his targets carefully. The 'mother' Bulborb would keep him fed for a few days, but going after her would require taking out the Dwarf Bulborbs first, not to mention the higher risk of losing Pikmin... One of the small ones would be far more efficient to go for. He'd have to go hunting again tomorrow, but there would be less meat wasted and it would be far easier to take out.

Olimar hopped off Moss's back, Pikmin still in hand. He gestured with his free hand for the rest to stay up there.

"Hey!" he called, not quite loud enough to wake the Bulborb, waving his arms. One of the Dwarf Bulborbs jumped, now alerted to his presence. It approached him, straying from the safety of the group in the hopes of getting a tasty Pikmin snack. He threw the Pikmin, and BAM! With one well-placed hit to the top, it was down, the others none the wiser.

"I need two more of you to help carry it," he instructed, looking over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter who, it's not for the Onion. I'll lead you to where it needs to be."

The Pikmin tilted their heads to the side, but a pair obediently slid off Moss's back to carry the corpse. Now all they needed to do was find a cave, and they would be set for the night.

Thankfully, caves were plentiful on this strange planet, so it didn't take too much more walking to find one.

"There's our home for tonight," Olimar mused, leaning over the opening.

The Pikmin stared at him. While they didn't say a word, he could feel their confusion and, even more, their trust. We don't know what you're doing, but we'll follow you anyways.

"Come on." He took hold of the body. "I'll help you carry it down."

The three of them looked a bit uneasy about taking it down so far, but they nodded. Anything for you. He could feel a stinging at his eyes. Sunset was coming fast, he didn't have the time to cry. He stepped with them towards the opening, helping the Pikmin over the lip, before falling down, down, down with them.

Every time, it was such a strange sensation, falling so far, and yet barely even being bruised once he hit the ground. Terrifying yet harmless, truly a testament to this planet's lower gravity. It seemed like the Pikmin shared that opinion, having squealed and screamed all the way down. He'd only just stood back up when Moss and the rest of the Pikmin landed down beside him.

"Alright, let's keep moving." He climbed up on her back. Maybe he didn't need to be in any rush, but there wasn't any need to waste time either.

The group snuck their way past the cave's creatures, doing their best not to disturb them or let them get to the Pikmin carrying the Dwarf Bulborb.

The first level didn't have what he needed. How unfortunate. But if they had to go further anyways, they might as well. The Pikmin were a little less hesitant to drop down while carrying the body the second time, but they let out a pleading little squeak as they lifted it up. Olimar sighed and hopped off Moss's back. It really shouldn't have been a surprise they could get to his soft spots so easily...

"There you go," he cooed, helping them over the lip. Their squeals as they fell seemed a bit less scared and more excited this time. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. They were so much like Shiyo when he was little... Crying about facing something new, only to immediately try to put on a brave face.

It was only when Moss finally hopped down after them that he realized how caught up he'd gotten in his own thoughts. He vaulted over the ledge of the opening, going down after them.

"Leader!" the Pikmin squeaked. "We thought you weren't coming!"

"I'm sorry for worrying you all." He patted the nearest Pikmin's heads. "I just zoned out a bit."

"What's a Shiyo?" One tilted their head.

Right. Even his own thoughts weren't entirely private anymore. "It's... It's not important. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Okay!" It beamed. "Yay!"

Olimar shook his head. What funny little creatures they were. He got back up on Moss's back, ready to continue their little mission.

It didn't take much longer until they came across exactly what he was looking for: A Fiery Blowhog. Perfect.

"Blue. Yellow. Drop it. More reds, get on."

They gave him a strange look, but obeyed anyways.

"Alright, now only you follow me." He marched out in front of the creature, the three Pikmin in tow. The Blowhog reared back, and spewed a stream of fire at the Pikmin and their charge.

"SPIN!"

While disoriented by the jet of flame, they obeyed, rotating the body in place. Soon enough, the Blowhog's blast stopped. The Dwarf Bulborb looked charred, but not too bad. Definitely edible! He let out a triumphant cheer... and the Fiery Blowhog snorted, turning towards him.

"Get back to Moss and the others!" he yelled. "I'll be fine!"

The Pikmin hurried off, and he gulped. There was no way he was suddenly flameproof, despite the red stem. The Blowhog reared back. Olimar ran, the flames hot on his heels. What awful planning, of course creatures would be more interested in him now, with that sprout he probably looked like a large Pikmin! He should've thought of an escape route...

Thankfully, the beast had no interest in pursuing Olimar much further, allowing him to reconvene with Moss and the Pikmin once he regained his bearings.

"Leader!!!" squealed the Pikmin, scrambling up and wrapping their roots around him. Just like his princess, Jiday, would whenever he got home from a long stint of work... He could feel himself tremble.

No Olimar, you still have things to do, he reminded himself. Daylight might not be a factor right now, but you have to eat. You have to eat. Once you've eaten, your tasks are done.

Wordlessly, the group made their way to the exit hole of the cave. Olimar peered up. He could make out stars against the darkened sky, even if only faintly.

He heaved a sigh. "Alright, this is our site." He sat down on the ground. "We'll know it's safe to leave once we see light coming from up there."

The Pikmin looked uneasy. "Leader is sure about this?"

He nodded. "We'll be safe down here as long as we stay out of the way of any creatures. They're used to darkness down here, so nightfall shouldn't make them act any different. If any do come to bother us, Moss and I will handle them."

A chorus of "Thank you, Leader!"s came from the squad, some of them nuzzling up to him.

"Ah... You're welcome. Do you mind giving me a bit of space?" He groped at his spacesuit's compartments, before coming up with a multitool he'd stashed away who-knows-when. He flicked out its knife, and the Pikmin stared, intrigued. "I'm just going to eat the Bulborb." A few of them straightened up, rushing to grab the body and bring it to Olimar. He muttered a thank you, and plunged the knife in. The Pikmin were transfixed.

With some force, he managed to cut a leg off. From there, he removed the skin from the thigh. The meat was a horrible grey-brown. He gulped. At least it wasn't raw. When he bit in, the meat was dry, flavourless, and somehow still squishy... but stars above, when compared to weeks of nothing but instant space noodles, it was delicious.

He ate and ate until he was well and truly full. Goodness, did it ever feel good to be full. Moss happily took whatever scraps he didn't eat, leaving nothing but a few sinewy scraps, unappealing organs, and bones. He stretched. The Pikmin were still staring at him expectantly.

"That's all for today. I'm going to bed."

"Seeds?" a particularly bold Pikmin blurted out.

"Hm? No, I can't make seeds without an Onion, as far as I know." They nodded amongst each other.

"Only Home-Onion makes seeds. Leader isn't Home, so it doesn't make seeds," could be made out from the babble. He grimaced to himself.

"Well, unless any of you have any more tasks we need to do tonight, we're going to sleep." Olimar leaned up against Moss, who had taken to gnawing on one of the Dwarf Bulborb's femurs. Being able to feel her fur for once was nice, even if it was a bit coarse. How he wished he could've given her a nice, cushy life on Hocotate. A better diet would surely soften her coat up, just like it did for Bulbie...

He was snapped out of that line of thought by the tens of Pikmin crawling up onto him, a dense blanket of squirming roots as they tried to find the most comfortable folds of his spacesuit to cling on to.

They looked up at him with wet little eyes. "Doesn't Leader want to nest?" Great, now he felt guilty for being startled.

"Yes, of course," he sighed, spreading his arms a bit to give them more surface area. "Please get comfortable." Thankfully, he could still make out the opening from this position, since it didn't seem like he'd be moving any time soon. He shifted in place a little, trying to take his own advice, and closed his eyes.

"Isn't it comfortable?" one Pikmin whispered. They opened right back up, but the Pikmin didn't seem to notice.

"Soft and firm," another's voice. "Just like Leader!"

"Its belly is the best!"

"Stop calling me an 'it'," Olimar grumbled. 'It' probably wasn't actually what they were saying, but he was too tired to distinguish between that reality and what he could hear.

At that, the Pikmin began to babble amongst themselves unsurreptitiously. He couldn't make out the exact words, but their confusion was plenty clear.

Eventually, one spoke up, "if Leader isn't 'it', what is Leader?"

"Olimar," he groaned. "Please just call me Olimar, not Leader, and I'm not an 'it', I'm a 'he'."

"What is a 'he'?" Their eyes were wide with curiosity, he couldn't stay mad.

"Well, most creatures don't reproduce like you do. They don't have Onions to produce seeds for them, they create them themselves, with the help of another individual of their species. And to distinguish between the roles they play in reproduction, we use the pronouns 'he' and 'she'."

The Pikmin stared, begging him to elaborate. He supposed it was just cruel fate that he should have this talk with an alien species before- no, instead of with his own children...

"Alright, get off, we're not sleeping yet," Olimar ordered, squirming in place. "I'll need my arms to help explain this." The Pikmin excitedly obeyed.

"In species like my own, one individual provides one half of the 'seed', and another provides the other. When they reproduce, the full seed grows within one of them." He scratched a pair of figures into the dirt. "The one who grows the seed is a 'she', and the other is a 'he'."

The Pikmin erupted into babble once more, eagerly discussing this little lesson.

"If Leader-Olimar is he, is creature-Moss also he?" a yellow Pikmin asked, pointing at Moss. It looked particularly excited about being able to come to this conclusion.

"Ah, no, but good guess." He shook his head. "Moss is a 'she'. The way her body is indicates that she would be the one to grow the seed, or- more likely- seeds."

"How does Leader-Olimar know?" a red Pikmin interjected. "Leader-Olimar and creature-Moss aren't the same."

"Could be!" another one chimed in. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what it meant by that.

"There are creatures very similar to Moss back where I'm from. We call them dogs, and they follow similar patterns of reproduction to my species. From what I've seen, Moss is very much the same."

"Dog. Dog. Dog? Dog. Dog! Dog," came the murmur of the squad as they tried out the word.

"But how can Olimar tell?" the red Pikmin from before questioned.

"Their external organs are-"

"But organs are inside-meat?"

"Not necessarily. Things like eyes or skin are external organs, and-" He had went to pinch his cheek as an example, but whatever he'd grabbed certainly wasn't his skin. He tugged a little. It felt as though he'd grabbed a chunk of hair instead, though a bit more concentrated somehow. "... I don't want to know what I look like right now, do I," he muttered.

"Leader looks safe!" a Pikmin immediately answered.

"Leader-Olimar!" another corrected.

"Leader-Olimar looks alive!" one more chirped.

"Alive and safe! Safe and alive!" the group chanted.

None of those cleared anything up, but that was probably for the best. He sighed and continued. "Anyways, external organs can be used for reproduction. Usually you can tell because the 'he' organs stick out, while 'she' organs go in, a bit like a gill."

This caused yet more confusion amongst the Pikmin. He was sure he could make out a few blue Pikmin confusedly asking if they were 'she's, and while he was prepared to answer that with a 'if you want to be, yes', he wasn't quite prepared for what they actually came forward to say.

"She," they said in unison, all pointing their roots towards Olimar.

"What?"

"Leader-Olimar and creature-Moss have inside bits!" A few of the Pikmin began to dance around, quite pleased with their deduction. "Moss is she, so Olimar is she!"

"No, that's not..." He slumped his shoulders. This was better than getting called 'it' all the time, and it would be a waste of time to keep bashing against this brick wall. "...Sure. Let's go to sleep now."

"Leader-Olimar is so smart," a few Pikmin hummed as they wriggled back into position. "She is such a good leader!"

Olimar sighed to himself. At least someone thought he was doing well. He looked up to the cave's exit, where he could make out the night sky, pinpricked by stars. He couldn't hold back any longer. Those very stars blurred away, his eyes overflowing with tears.

At first, he'd thought it strange, almost cruel, that this planet's sun should completely drown out every other visible star during the day, that he should only get the faintest chance of catching a vague glimpse of Hocotate in the dead of night, utterly unrecognizable from this distance. But now, it seemed like a necessary evil. He should only mourn the home he would never see again when there was nothing more important to do.

"Chipi, dear, I hope you'll be able to forgive me," were the last words out of his mouth before he fell asleep.

#in which olimar has 'The Talk' with the Pikmin and the Pikmin can sniff out eggs #Vesper's Writing #Pikmin

[vesper-roux]

WIP INTRO--ANTHEM: INTERLUDE

"You know, we make a pretty good team. Shame one of us is about to die, huh?"

🎶SVRCINA -Who Are You?

Status | Planning / Writing 1st draft (I have a lot of pantser tendencies)

Genre | Sci-Fi / Fantasy, Thriller

Form | Novella, likely to become a novel

Age Grade | New Adult (for language and violence) Characters begin the book as 13 and ~15-17, end as 19 and ~21-23

POV | 3rd Person--slight omniscient?

Setting | Ceador Empire--Vōā and Vērrå Provinces, Cave Cities

Themes | Religion, devotion and loyalty, class struggle, recognition through other, Man vs. Self, Man vs. Man, enemies to allies/friends, anti-heroes

Warnings | Death, body horror, general horror, rabies similarities, climate trauma, human trafficking, physical / emotional / psychological abuse, suicidal ideation

Synopsis | After robbing Lunar Bay Resort, home to one of the most powerful people in the empire, but being seen by a strange kid free to roam the private housing wing, a young rogue from the underground must engage in an elusive game as his witness takes the offense more personally than originally suspected. Their rivalry reveals to them a deeper, grim grasp on their places in society, their own buried fears, how they can understand each other, and hurt and help one another. This intermission in the Anthem series tells the story of an integral bond that forms before the main story's events.

Main Characters |

Galen (he/him) | An overzealous member of a young gang in the Cave Cities, Galen is set on proving himself a trusted and invaluable subordinate to his boss. He is both resentful and overprotective of the only home he has--but not the only home he's ever known.

Willow (ve/they/he) | Training as a monk in the prestigious Yorough Temple thanks to vis pseudo-charge and warrior king of Vōā, Klaus Reitvelt, Will seeks to restore what little of vis pride remains and save vis life. Though none know of this injury to vis ego and why ve perceives this as a threat to vis life.

If you like__, you may like "Interlude"!

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer for the weird plants and animals (the existentialism and metamorphic nature is for the rest of the series)

Heroes, X-Men, or My Hero Academia for "super"powers--everyone has the potential, but not everyone awakens them

NieR: Automata for its existentialism and a lot of other inspiration I took from it

A:TLA for the cat-and-mouse between Aang and Zuko

The dynamic between Leon S. Kennedy and Ada Wong in the Resident Evil 2 & 4 remakes

The complex (albeit non-familial in this context) relationship between Silco and Jinx in Arcane

LotR for its close friendships between men (not in a "what about the purity of brotherhood??!! 😱" kind of way; I am a queer writer who will always write queer stories)

Underground civilizations, figuratively through crime and literally in a mountain

An animistic religion slightly inspired by Shintoism, feudalistic society slightly based on Edo Period Japan

Fantasy languages inspired by Icelandic phonetics

The painting in the moodboard is The Fall by Alan Stephens Foster

#vesper posts #series: anthem #book: interlude #wip intro #tw blood #writeblr #sci fi #fantasy #thriller #action #writers of tumblr #authors of tumblr #vesper's writing

[pocket-dragon]

Fuck it, give her 3 kids!

[The mama k lore that exists solely in my maladaptive daydreams and occasionally my friends dms is vast and sometimes I make art about it]

#Karlach #Karlach cliffgate #tavlach #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #oc #dnd #comic #mama k #the mama k saga continues #i need to update my ficsss SORRY #ive been in the art zone not the writing zone #kids left to right #Robyn #Nari #Vesper

[ministarfruit]

I also did mock CGs of them for fun!!

(doppelgänger magni and vesper concepts)

#vtuber #holostars #holotempus #magni dezmond #noir vesper #I am so normal about the horror genre #magni's doppel route would've SLAYED #rattles my cage. THE CLONE LORE. THE CLONE LORE #I lowkey want them (the routes in my brain) to be connected #because magni is a doctor and vesper is death... #nobody get me started. I won't shut up #I LOVE PLAYING WITH CONCEPTS AND WORLDS #ugh and I could connect all of HQ's routes #the ending of alt's leads into mag's which leads into ax's which leads into ves' #IT'S A WHOLE CYCLE OF BEING CORRUPTED AND THEN HIT BY KARMA FOR IT #LET ME WRITE A TEMPUS VN. SOB #I don't have time for that. but I can dream

[willowser]

for whatever reason, you're there after the war. for touya—not dabi.

once he's moved out of the hustle and bustle of the city and to an intimate little place, somewhere a bit quieter. with his family, of course, as his entire being just—heals. he's given the time and the space and the patience that he needs, but it's not easy. almost feels like it's never going to be.

he comes and goes in waves; thunderous and loud and all consuming, another crash upon the shore. in anger and pain, in fear and hatred, with a kind of madness that you could never hope to understand.

and then sometimes, he is quiet. when you help change the wrappings on his body or when you offer the help of an arm he doesn't have or when you just sit with him, fully clothed, underneath the ice cold spray of the shower.

in these moments, it's almost like he's been gutted, like everything he had inside was scooped out—and it sounds like it should be terrible. but touya watches the carefulness to your hands and how you tie his shoes and lets you rest your head on his shoulder when you're sitting side-by-side in the tub, because he's still as warm as he's always been.

and you think maybe it isn't so bad that all that was removed, when they sewed him back together; all the anger and pain, the fear and hatred, the madness that's nowhere to be seen in those bright and clear eyes of his.

without all that in the way, you hope—you all do—that something new will grow it its place.

#i'll never get over that scene in casino royale when bond sits side by side with vesper in the shower #it's so intimate and i haven't ever forgotten it #and idk i just like the idea of someone having the patience to sit with touya in the shower like that #until he's ready to come out #lately i've been really into the idea of healing touya 🥺 after it all 🥺 #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: dabi/touya

[scarredlove]

Last Line Challenge-

Rules:

In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many as you like).

I am grateful for the tag @spadillelicious!! Sorry for such a late response

Something I'm currently been working on is something my brain was cooking as I worked- Note to self: Don't be unsupervised lol

Last Line:

"If the money isn't collected by tomorrow, then I suggest you go to church." You begin, looking over to him with ice. "Maybe your God will show you some mercy... Because my boys won't."

Last Art:

Please know these aren't final~

@certified-handler @pr0ng3ls @mamajebbun @sammehshark @clxckwork-sun-n-moon

#word chain #tagging game #last line challenge #last line tag #spadillelicious #thanks for the tag! #sorry for late reply! #scar rambles #post #scarredlove #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf dca #fnaf au #dca au #dca fandom #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #mafia au #myart #my art #scar drabbles #scar writes #sun #moon #aubade #vesper #fnaf oc #fnaf fc #sun x you #moon x you

[aieevee16]

I did this out of impulse.

#obscura vn #obscura vn vesper #Vesper fans will be FED #I did this out of pure impulse and hyperfixation #i was on sugar coffee and the will to write more content for Vesper #ao3 fanfic

[chronurgy]

Rating: T (No Archive Warnings Apply)

Relationship: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash

Tags: Wyll (Baldur's Gate), The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Enver Gortash, Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Character Study, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, POV Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Devil Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Not an unreliable narrator but a narrator who is missing certain pieces of information, Ballroom Dancing

Word count: 7,923

Summary: Gortash's steps are quick and precise, sharp somehow, and his feet are always too exactly where they should be. They come crashing down with exactitude at the precisely correct moment, giving his partner’s feet absolutely no quarter. He moves with rigor, executes every turn, dip, and move competently, but he doesn’t seem to feel the tug of the music. He doesn’t flow, doesn’t express anything as he moves. He is as precisely stiff and mechanical as one of his machines. He misses the point, misses the romance and the drama in the dance, treats it like Wyll used to treat his painting lessons: as a necessity rather than an art. And the man is domineering when he leads (and he only ever leads), steering his partners around the floor with an iron will. He seems to Wyll like someone too focused on controlling the thing to enjoy it. In short, his dancing is competent but it is not beautiful.

Or was not. Not with any of the others.

My Wyll POV fic about the Archduke's Coronation Ball. Wyll observes the relationship between Vesper and Gortash, finds himself back among the people he grew up with, and begins to wonder just who his friend might really be.

#bg3 #dark urge x gortash #enver gortash #dark urge #wyll ravengard #my writing #vesper #my fic

[justanotherrcblog]

How am I supposed to choose 😫

#romance club #rc wtc #rc onyx #rc lucien #rc shen #rc vesper #arina writes the best LIs #edit:feel like I did Shen dirty out of context #but he’s comforting m.c here #he was softer this update #which is sooner than I expected #probably still a long way off him putting m.c ahead of his coat though 😉 #rc w time catcher

[meltlilies]

"Actually, this is kind of stupid."

"You're the one I had so much 'tension' to release and offered to help me with it. At least here my neighbors won't be able to hear me have a one sided conversation whenever I slip up." He takes Johnny by the digital hand, more of a suggestion for him to move in time with V, than actually dragging him anywhere.

"Mm, fair enough."

"Think you might be the first physical solo act here, kid."

"I'm sure plenty of people come here to watch bad BDs, Johnny. Why worry about it?" It's awkward, positioning himself in such a way that he won't just fall over because there's no physical purchase on the other man, his fingers passing through code that half scatters into nothing upon impact. "Let's just...enjoy the moment. Before we get dragged into more nonsense."

" M'all yours V, just like always."

#cyberpunk 2077 #silverv #silvervweek #oc: vesper kimura #johnny silverhand #i will at some point write this up i just got distracted by uhhh 28k words of trauma #ves is too anxious to actually have sex with anyone usually and johnny wants him to feel good and it just turns into the scene from ghost #except they're in front of a mirror the whole time heehee #except it's johnny controlling his hands lmao #something something yearning and longing for someone whose body you can never touch/be touched by

[fullmoonfireball]

Olimar was laid out on the dirt, staring up at the blue sky with bleary eyes. Stars above, he wished he was in pain.

Even the slightest twinge from his usually-achy joints would've been a comfort, but there he lay, not feeling much of anything when he knew his lungs should've still been burning.

It wasn't much longer before he realized he wasn't breathing at all, and yet, nothing. He still felt fine- better than he had in years, even. Something was deeply wrong, but he was far too drained to be appropriately worried. All that his overwhelmed brain could muster was the dull hum of "Well, that can't be good." Some unplaceable part of him twitched, and suddenly, the air around him was filled with buzzes of "Awake! Awake! Leader is awake!"

It didn't matter how heavy his limbs felt, Olimar scrambled to his feet, head spinning. Despite the jolt of adrenaline, he couldn't hear his heart racing. More importantly, there was merely a group of Pikmin swarming around him, cheerfully babbling as the chanting echoed in his brain. "Awake! Alive! Awake! It worked! Awake! Leader is back!"

His ears twitched. What worked? The Pikmin fell silent, staring at him. A few cocked their heads to the side. It registered as a "Can't you tell?" to him, though he wasn't sure why. He shook his head. It's wasn't as though he could've expected an answer from the creatures. Instead, he took a look around. He wasn't familiar with this area, but it was grassy and seemed pleasant enough. There was an Onion landed in the clearing, and... Moss. He felt himself tense.

Olimar stepped around the Pikmin, towards her. She was fast asleep despite the commotion, snout twitching.

"Hey girl," he croaked out. His throat fell awful now that he was talking, but he continued. "Glad you're alright after-" He coughed, stirring her from her sleep. Moss let out a startled ruff, before realizing who was in front of her. Her leafy tail wagged furiously, and she licked Olimar's face.

...She licked his face. He backed away, groping at his cheeks, his forehead, wherever, as if hoping his hands would suddenly be stopped by the familiar glass of his helmet. Tens of beady little eyes bore into him, not calming his nerves any, until finally his hands tried at the top of his head. He yelped.

He could feel something that definitely wasn't supposed to be there. He first traced the unfamiliar growth with his fingertips, sending shivers down his spine, before simply grabbing it. It was too long to simply trace, and soon enough it was clear it was flexible, so he pulled it down in front of his face.

... A stem. It was a stem. A red stem, with a single leaf at the end. A Pikmin stem. And it was part of him. The strange words started again, now indistinct, as the Pikmin glanced amongst each other. Olimar pulled at the stem. He pulled and pulled and pulled. Harder and harder. He could feel tears building up in his eyes from the pain he'd been craving moments ago but he just kept pulling and pulling and

"STOP!!!" The buzzing turned into an ear-splitting squeal. Or maybe that was just the Pikmin's frantic protests, as a number of them held his hands with their roots, pushing back. "The leaves help Leader! Safe from the soil! Leader can't leave again!"

He let go of his stem, slumping down onto the ground. "Can't leave again...?" he echoed. He grabbed at the sides of his head.

"Leader's onion fell from the sky. Leader fell too. It almost left us by drowning on land. But now it's back! Leader won't go back to the soil with its leaves!" A Blue Pikmin tried to smile at him as the words rang through his head, drowning out the Pikmin's chirps. Olimar felt like he was going to throw up. It was quite clear now that the strange 'buzzing' voices were the Pikmin- even if he still heard their babble normally, his stem seemed to translate for him, as it was... And it was equally clear what they had done to him. Of course he wasn't breathing- not as he would recognize it, at least- he was a plant-riddled corpse, unconsciously taking in the toxic air through his new stomata. A corpse that could never leave this planet. A corpse that his family would never see again. One they'd never get closure on.

With the state he was in, he almost hoped that SOS had fallen on deaf ears.

#Vesper's Writing #Pikmin #<- maintagging bc you WILL look at my drabble

[vesper-roux]

WIPs in 3 emojis

Personal notes:

- indicate shared universes until “Standalones”

[] indicate that I don’t have working titles yet and want to avoid using genre

Rules: Well... try to summarize your WIPs in 3 emojis

~~~~~~

Count the Valleys: 🧟‍♂️𓋹🏜️

-

TMitMiaS: 🦾🌗🫀

-

[ASO]: 🚀👾🩸

[Ilmeon]: 🧙🐉🌌

[Chosen One]: 🏛🧩🧓

[Siter]: 💎💰🔮

[Precarnation]: ⛓️👰💔

[Revenge]: 🏟 👶🦊

Anthem: 👑👹☣️

Interlude: ⛩️🏔️👬

Lullaby: 👶😆🏫 (not the same universe but the same characters)

-

Morty & Mave: 🤸🏻‍♂️☠️📆

-Standalones-

in order of most to least interest atm

Denunciation: 🌨🏪👆

The Kids: 👨‍👦🏃‍♂️6️⃣

[AP]: 🧊🤯🏃

[Wick x Leon]: 🗡️🧑‍💼🚸

[Body]: 🔪🧬🧠

[Hunter]: 🚢⛪🧛

[Prophetic]: 📷🕵🏻👿

[Novella]: 👠💸🎭

[Afterlife]: 👥👁️😞

~~~~~

Tags: @fairy-anon-godmother @aquitainequeen @alnaperera @surroundedbypearls @@samanthamarkle92 @albatris @kwshahrazad @chauceryfairytales @mercurialsmile @k--havok if you want!

#vesper posts #writeblr #writers of tumblr #series: anthem #series: tmitmias #book: count the valleys #vesper's writing

[rawliverandgoronspice]

◦ Descant of Greatness ◦

(The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time - Mature Audience - Gen, M/F - multi chapter - Part 2 of Unhallowed Vespers)

...

“I don’t fault you, Ganondorf.” Her eyes are crimson.The last seven years dried them of any tear worth holding onto, cleansed by the rain on the rampart of a kingdom that loathed them so. “Do you believe transcending godhood can save you from what you have started?"

All this stolen Power, and he still cannot stump the fear. “I have to try."

(read Chapter 1 on Ao3)

...

Finally, I'm kind of ready to start posting this fic!!

It was never meant to become such a huge thing, since I was just hoping to get the Zelda fever out of my system and handle some of the remaining frustrations about everything I couldn't touch upon in Litany of Betrayal, which is Part 1 of that series I called (after an INSANE amount of debate and hair pulling) Unhallowed Vespers.

This story is a non-linear character study of Ganondorf from OoT, with a healthy dose of liberties taken and choices made, that tries to get at the heart of why I think this character is so gosh darn interesting --but veers closer to dark fantasy than the original material even does, given, well, the kind of protagonist we have on our hands. It's a love letter that got kind of super long RIP to me being all like "yeah it's just going to be a couple of vignettes nothing crazy uwu" lol, look at you now with your 6k chapters you predictible fool

The story is a lot about legitimacy, culture, legacy and, of course, ambition and justice in the face of the divine. It's a tragedy, with a dash of existential horror that took me by surprise. It gave me an excuse to think a lot about gerudo culture!! I FINALLY wrote a scene about Ganondorf's coronation, which I've been wanting to have an excuse to do since I was like 14 years old!! There's a romance in there, though it is uhhh a little toxic because, again *gestures towards the protagonist involved*. People who are familiar with my writing will be very pleased (??) to know that this is the usual bullshit, and that I was bound to put politics in my Zelda if left unsupervised for too long. :(((

It's not 100% done yet so I don't have a set schedule of release, but it's about 75% done! I'll try to push the chapters out pretty fast (though it probably won't be fully released before TOTK :( the lore will come for me running and I'm s c a r e d)

#tloz #ganondorf #oot #ocarina of time #the legend of zelda #fanfiction #my writing #my art #impa #gerudo #gerudos #descant of greatness #unhallowed vespers

[blorbologist]

Just wanted to be brave like you

Gen | 1.7k | Perc’ahlia and little Vesper | Modern AU | Just fuckin sad

Cross-posted to AO3

--

She’d warned him.

Vex had taken her husband aside when it became clear this film was on the agenda for the day. “Percy, darling,” she’d said, all filed edges and feather soft, “you don’t have to-”

“I do,” he’d insisted just as gently. “I’m not missing out on time with the women of my life because of a movie. Not an obligation, but a pleasure.” Then, wry: “Besides, we’ve both seen worse. Been through worse. The reviews are great, Keyleth has recommended it for as long as I can remember. Now is as good a time as any.”

“Are you sure?” And she’d pulled back to scrutinize him. Vex’ahlia is and always has been very good at that. There are no lies in him for her to find, though he suspected that’s not what she was looking for. “Percy, it made Vax sob the first time we watched it after our mother-”

She fell short of words, so he went the extra mile to find some for her: “I know, I know, dear. But it’s Vax. He’s like that. It’s a silly movie, and I have you both to protect me. It’ll be fine. Please?”

“Alright, darling. If you’re sure.”

She’d warned him, and he hadn’t listened.

Percy buries his face in Vex’s shoulder, waits for the music to pick up a little louder, and uses all this to cover a pathetic, wet sniffle.

Peeking through his lashes, it does not seem like Vesper noticed, too enraptured by the television screen. 

She clutches her stuffie to her chest with a gasp. The dusty scene glides slowly over the still golden form of a magnificent beast.

“Dad?”

Vesper mouths no - he thinks, because his eyes are burning and he really can’t look a second longer. Percival de Rolo has another embarrassing, probably snotty sniffle in his wife’s (his, but she’s stolen it) sweater. 

Why the fuck is he, a grown man, getting weepy over animated lions?!

Bless his wife - no I told you so, just a calloused hand running through his hair, over and over.

“Dad, c’mon,” begs Simba - he thinks it’s named Simba, “you gotta get up. We’ve got to go home.” 

And fool that he is he looks up just in time to see the cub tug at his father’s ear - oh gods, just like at the beginning of the movie when he woke him up for the patrol - and the horror, the realization -

Percival does not say fuck because he is the father of a five-year-old. He comes close, though, because even a vehement “Fudge,” is wholly incapable of conveying how truly wretched he feels. 

He knew the stupid lion was going to die. The film is just about as old as he is, and Vex had warned him repeatedly. For all that he never watched these movies growing up, Percy was not found under a rock either - everyone knows Mufasa dies.

It’s just something else, to be presented with the desperate loneliness again. This can’t be happening. He can’t be gone, they can’t be gone. Help - somebody, anybody, help. (And no one did.)

“Percy?” Vex murmurs, and he can hardly hear her beyond the raspy breathing. His raspy breathing. Oh dear. 

“‘m coping,” he gets out.

They both freeze when Vesper starts whimpering. Percy just has time to see her cheeks become tantrum-red before she bubbles into hiccups.

“Vesper, sweetheart - what’s wrong?” 

The words are a trigger - springloaded, she spins around to bury her face in Percy’s chest with a sob that breaks his darned heart. “I don’t want you to go-” she sobs, and that heart crumbles to dust in tiny hands when she takes fistfulls of his shirt. 

“Dear,” and he’s so watery, he doesn’t want his baby to see him like this, surely it’ll make it worse, “I’m not going anywhere-”

“He promised! Papa, he promised!” He gets a shaking hand to the nape of her neck, rubbing soothing circles that do little to make him feel better. They don’t seem to help Vesper, either, who clings tighter. She also makes a very obvious smear of snot, which, really, is enough to get a choked laugh from him. 

Vex might have paused the television - Percy can’t be sure, when she shuffles around to hug them both. “Vesper - little Whisper,” Vex whispers, barely beyond tears herself, “what do you want, sweetheart?”

“I want Daddy,” she sobs, “and - and you, and me, and - and-”

Vex’s free hand takes up running through as much of Vesper’s hair as she can. It usually works on her just as well as it does Percy - instead their little girl jerks back, almost offended her mother thinks she can soothe this new pain. 

“He’s alone! His - his Papa’s dead and he’s alone and he promised-”

“It’s just a movie,” Percy warbles. Takes a moment to sound less devastated than his child. She needs him. “Vesper, darling, it’s okay. There are no stampedes here, no evil lions. We’re not going anywhere - I promise, I give you my word.”

He can’t promise that. 

He knows better than anyone, anyone at all. There’s worse than wildebeest, worse than evil uncles. Long live the king, death to the de Rolos, there’s little difference. 

But he’s a father, now, he’s Vesper’s father, and if this is her reaction to the understanding that he could die - that he could be gone - he will build every bulwark, every defense against her ever experiencing this heartbreak as he has. Fuck tragedy, age, accidents - he won’t leave his family. He won’t. Death will have to face him, and he’s got good odds that death will lose.

Death had won back then, though, which makes him clutch Vesper tighter.

One day. But he will fight for each one he has with them. And knows well Vex will do the same.

It goes around like that - the DVD player faintly whirring in protest, here and there, as Vesper keeps repeating the tragedy in her mind, as Vex and Percy keep trying to soothe her of it. 

Vex shoulders most of it. Percy is still in much of a state himself, to his shame. Bouts of comfort before he needs to take some for himself: Vesper’s hazel eyes made dark grey by the film of tears, or his grief-rough voice sounding like his father’s to his ears. 

It’s not fair to Vex, to be juggling the both of them. He hates this, badly, but struggling to keep his breathing even just makes it buck his control and throw him into more crying.

He has a family, now. Vex and Vesper and Cass and Vax and Keyleth and Velora and those bound to him by no law but forces greater than them. No one here is alone, and never will be again.

“Daddy, you’re sad.”

Well, so much for hiding it. Percy cannot exactly wipe away the tears regardless - hands full and all, and unlike his progeny he is not going to wipe snot on his shirt. “I guess I am,” he admits. 

“You -” Vesper has to pause to work through the words - stuck somewhere in her throat, he thinks, maybe wiggling in her mouth like a frog, he knows the feeling. “You don’t-”

He leans into Vex’s touch. An anchor for the wave he knows is coming. He takes the time he can to measure his breathing before Vesper says, “I - Daddy, you don’t have a daddy.”

“No - no, sweetheart, I don’t.”

(He doesn’t include the list, the tombstone-script of names. He’s lost so much more than his father, but he supposes that’s a good place to start. Let alone Vex’s mother. One at a time, or he’ll break again and break worse and Vesper doesn’t need that.)

Vesper looks up at him with streaming eyes. “I’m sorry, Papa.” She squeezes him with all her might - which is considerable, to him. So much love to give and with no remorse. Those perfect little brows - more Vex’s than his - furrow something fierce, and she struggles just free enough of his hold to offer her stuffy. Who is also covered in snot. “’m sorry. Will - will Bauble make it better?”

And oh, fuck, he isn’t ready for that. 

“Thank you, dear,” he says solemnly. “Yes - yes, Bauble makes it better.”

He lets Vesper press the owlbear (it was supposed to be a bear, but - Velora, dear, that’s a beak) to his chest, where his heart struggles to pet it. 

“I love you, Papa.”

She says it often. More than daily, more times than he can count - and he has tried, diligently, to count and treasure each one.

This one makes his face melt into something awful, and Vesper looks so worried, so scared, and it’s because of the stupid animated lions - 

He must have made a gods-awful sound, this time, because there’s a racket of tags and claws on the hardwood as a brown blur bounds over from the kitchen and launches himself at the couch. 

Which he’s not supposed to be on, strictly speaking, but who could keep Vax from encouraging the habit? And who would dare fault him now when all the de Rolos shriek. 

“Trinket,” Vex scolds, hardly scolding at all. “Down, buddy!” 

He just wuffles and noses Vesper’s ear until she wails with giggles, shoving her open palms at their dog. Those get licked too.

It’s very hard to cry when a huge fluffy dog is whining at you for every whimper and licking at your mouth until they turn into laughs.

Percy will be sure to sneak him a little ham, later. 

“Tell you what,” says Vex, in his ear. Vesper wiggles to look up at her, too. What must their daughter see? Vex is too close and his eyes too damp to make out much of her beyond redder than normal and shaky. What a portrait, what a distressing sight. “You remember what the daddy lion -”

Sniffle. “Mufasa, Mama.”

She smiles. “- what Mufasa said earlier? About the great kings of the past?” Trinket’s collar rustles when Vex ruffles his soft ears. “Later tonight, after supper, we can go look at the stars, and… talk to them. Would you like that, darling?”

Percy is fairly sure she means Vesper. But when their daughter pinches her eyes shut - overwhelmed? To think? - she’s looking at him with eyes he’d surrender his fears to. 

Would he like that?

“Yes, Mummy,” Vesper burbles, with a final rub of her fist to her nose. She then pats Percy’s arm, snot and all. “Can - can we keep watching the movie, Papa?”

“It gets scary,” Vex warns gently. A glance at the screen confirms that Scar looms, some shadows in the dust behind him. “If it’s too much, just tell us and we can stop, alright darling?”

“Trinket will protect you,” Percy adds quietly. The thump of a stubby tail seconds that.

Vesper nods so bravely. “Alright.”

Dutifully, Vex - the only one with a free arm to reach the remote, and with the least gross hands - presses play, and soon enough the thrilling music and fast-paced chase have Vesper distracted again. Even Trinket watches, with his old eyes, laying his head on her little lap.

Percy brands a kiss to Vex’s brow. As hard as he dares.

She hugs him a touch too tight. It’s a promise.

#im Fine im totally Fine im so Fine im So okay I dont have Issues regarding dads dying i swear #critical role #cr fanfic #critical role fanfiction #perc'ahlia #percahlia #percival de rolo #percy de rolo #vesper de rolo #de rolo family #vex'ahlia #modern au #my writing #just a lil ficlet to get over some writer's block

[embersofhope-if]

Okay i wrote this a while ago bc somebody requested it but now i can't find the ask💔

anyways heres a drabble of the fight Mc and Aurel got into when they were sixteen

tw for fighting, dissociation, strangulation, and theres a needle used at the end but its not explicitly stated

wordcount: 1.9k

The rain pours down onto me as I stand waiting. What I'm waiting for, I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that I need to stand here and wait until whatever is supposed to happen happens. I see the blurred figures of both children and teachers leaving the school to go start their afternoon shifts in the factories. Even if I can’t clearly see their faces, I can feel their glares, anger, and hatred hot on my skin. It’s the only thing I can feel at the moment. It’s honestly about the only thing I’ve been able to feel since the games ended. I can’t bring myself to think too deeply about what happened, or I might start drowning in every emotion imaginable, again.

I can’t let that happen. They’ll put me on so many pills I won’t be able to tell which way is up.

So, I continue to stand, waiting in the rain, having only the heat of glares keeping me warm. A bolt of lightning hits the building across the street, followed by a loud crack of thunder. The jolt of fear suddenly clears my mind of the fog that it’s been trapped in, and I realize why I’m here.

Ash

Every day without fail, Ash and I would meet up here after school. Whether we would just talk for a couple of minutes before their shift at the factory or I was walking them home, we always met up here.

All at once, everything that I haven’t been able to feel hits me so hard I almost fall over. Every feeling forms into a single thought.

I’ve got to get out of here now.

I run, fleeing from the courtyard and everything that’s happened there. That courtyard is nothing but a painful reminder that Ash is gone, and there is nothing I can do to bring them back. With the fog lifted from my brain, I can now fully feel the pain of what's happened. My heart aches as if the games happened just yesterday, and it has left my feet unsteady as I continue to run. I have no idea where I'm running to, probably somewhere equally as painful, but as long as I’m moving away from here, I don’t really care.

I shove past several people, barely hearing their angry shouts of protest, and force my way through a set of doors. I have no idea where I am or where to go. I recognize the room, but my mind refuses to focus enough to remember the name. All I can think about is how much my chest aches and how cold my hands are. My skin feels so cold it's like I’ve never felt the Sun.

I force myself to sit down before I collapse onto the floor, trying not to make any more of a scene than I already have. Exhaustion begins to replace whatever panic is left in my body.

I need to stand up. Make my way home before someone tells Father that I’ve had some type of breakdown. Explain to him that this is nothing like that.

But it is exactly like that, isn’t it? I’m not entirely sure what counts as a breakdown, but sprinting through school grounds shoving anyone out of my way in a blind panic probably counts at least as the start of one. The worry of what Father is going to do when he finds out isn’t enough to motivate my body to move again. I’m so exhausted that all I can bring myself to do is sit here and breathe.

I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been here, but it’s long enough for me to finally realize where I’m at, the community cafeteria. I’m just thankful I didn’t barge my way into some teacher’s classroom, which means the chances of someone noticing me are significantly lower. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to stand, but I have noticed other people moving about and taking seats. These must be late-day shift workers. That means it's almost seven o’clock, and I’m supposed to be at dinner in thirty minutes. This realization finally manages to get my limbs moving again.

I’ve got to get across the city in the middle of a shift change in less than thirty minutes and then pretend that I’ve spent the last three hours in my room instead of out here trying not to lose my mind. This is going to be near impossible

I quickly stand, trying to come up with something to say to my family whenever I get back home.

Maybe I can say I went on a walk or Hope went missing and I went looking for him. Who am I kidding? Mother wouldn’t believe that for a second, and if she did, Calliope wouldn’t, and she’d have no problem with immediately calling me out on the lie.

No matter what I come up with, every excuse is worse than the last. Ultimately, I decided to just get back as fast as I could and wing it from there.

Once again, I begin shoving my way through groups of people not really caring for the looks they throw my way. I’m stopped whenever a hand grabs my collar and pulls, hard. The motion forces me to turn around, and I come face to face with Aurel Weaver. The anger in their eyes does nothing but confuse me.

I hardly know Aurel. I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to them. What could I have possibly done to make them so angry?

For a minute, we both just stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak. I take the moment to properly look at them. After the games ended, shifts at the factories began to ramp up, and Aurel ended up dropping out of school to keep up with the work they were assigned. I haven’t really seen them since then, but I can tell the work is taking a toll on them, changing them. They look about as exhausted as I feel. Their skin pale, and the bags under their eyes are worse than I've ever seen them before. But the biggest change I can see is in their eyes; beautiful hazel eyes drowning in nothing but fury and hatred, and it's all directed at me. A sharp pang runs through my chest. I may not have been best friends with Aurel, but I still considered them at the very least a friendly acquaintance. I force myself to ignore the hurt and very suddenly realize that I’ve been staring for too long and I can't afford to waste what little time I have to get home. “Sorry Aurel, I didn’t mean to run into you,” I say quickly, going to turn to leave.

I take a step away until I, once again, feel a hand grab me. Only this time, the hand is wrapped around both my collar and the chain hanging around my neck. They’re saying something to me, but all I can focus on is the chain in their hand and the fact that if they pull it’ll snap. I take a breath slightly, turning my head, forcing myself to listen to what they’re saying.

“It’s rude to not answer my questions, you know?” Aurel growls, and I can feel them getting ready to yank me back. Instead of responding, I try to move out of their grip. At the same time, they decide to pull, and I feel the chain snap.

The pendant slides down my shirt, and I watch it fall to the ground. The last precious gift that I will ever get from Ash now lays on the ground broken like it was nothing. I barely feel Aurel's presence anymore. All I can stare at is the pieces.

They grab my shoulder, tired of me apparently ignoring them, and force me to look at them. Suddenly, the nothingness I felt while looking at the broken pendant is replaced with an all-consuming rage at the sight of them standing, acting like I owe them any type of response. I glance around and notice a glass cup sitting on the table next to us.

Without a second of delay, I grab it and smash it against the side of their head. Before they manage to recover any semblance of balance, I lunge at them and knock them to the ground. One. Two. Three. I get three punches in before they get me off them. They pin me down with one hand around my throat and use the other to try and hold my hands down. I can feel their right hand around my throat, squeezing hard while I kick and scratch at them. As my vision starts to fill with black spots, I freeze and begin to realize that Aurel might just be trying to kill me.

I’m going to die on the dirty floor of the community cafeteria, and it’s nobody’s fault but mine. Broken and nothing on the ground, just like the necklace lying next to me.

I feel Aurel's grip on me loosens, and I know this is my chance to get them off me. I kick them in the side and manage to get out from under them. I throw a punch to the side of their head that knocks them into a leg of the table, hard. Disoriented and off balance, Aurel doesn’t even notice that I’m in front of them until I pin them down and begin to hit them over and over. I lose track of how many times I hit them; all I know is that they’re not fighting back anymore. I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Every emotion I’ve been trying not to feel comes out in every swing. I know I’m crying, but I can’t bring myself to care. I should be ashamed for doing this for letting my anger take control, but I’m not.

There’s a crowd around us now. I can’t hear them, but I can see them; with the show me and Aurel have been putting on, it was bound to catch some attention. If there’s a crowd, then that means there must be peacekeepers on the way. I don’t care. They can drag me away and lock me up forever, and I won’t care. I feel hands trying to pull me off Aurel, but I don’t let them.

They hurt me. Why shouldn’t I hurt them? I want to hurt them. I want to hurt all of them. Everyone in the districts and Capitol. I want to hurt them all.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice white uniforms surrounding me, and they begin grabbing me. They’re a lot better at getting me off Aurel than whoever was trying before. As I’m being pulled away, I notice the pendant still lying on the ground, a forget-me-not shattered into pieces.

Ash would hate me right now.

That thought takes any fight I had left, and I sag in the peacekeeper's arms. The last thing I see is my Father walking towards me as I feel a sharp prick on the back of my neck and fade into darkness.

#emma writes🪶 #aurel weaver. #mc vesper. #tw.fighting #tw.dissociation #tw.needles #i literally didnt edit this so ignore the errors im begging #drabbles.

[noveldivergence]

Had time and energy to draw Vesper as well. REALLY in love with how his eyes turned out.

This is him a bit younger than he actually is in the story.

#oc: vesper delgado #wip: the apostates #writing #original characters #writeblr #writing community #original character #original art