#Everything wants Vesper dead

[eldritch-spouse]

Hear me out ok? In the middle of the night u just get rlly needy and horny but u dont have the guts to wake vesper up so u use his belly mouth instead to get off. Idk if im mistaken but i think u mentioned about vesper's belly mouth is awake even in the night?

[Yep, correct! Fem reader.]

TW: Somnophilia; Dubious consent then enthusiastic consent.

It's its own special type of Hell, living with Vesper.

Not because he treats you badly. Quite the contrary, as soon as you started making efforts to accept your new reality, he was the first one to volunteer any sort of help, hoping to make you feel as comfortable here as you did in your home, back on the surface. And, putting aside the volumes of mixed feelings you have regarding all this, it's... Sweet of him to at least care about your comfort.

That's not the problem.

The problem is your ceaseless libido.

Ever since you woke up in this ring, in his mansion, you've been burning up with arousal. You're always some degree of wet, sensitive, mind heading to the gutter far too frequently. You want everything and everyone, you want Vesper's touch on your body at every. Possible. Moment. You want him to slip his fingers and tongue anywhere he can and you want him to pick you up like a fucktoy whenever he pleases- Because it feels like nothing will ever sate you these days.

When you brought these concerns to the King, he was more than thrilled by the knowledge, though also a tad empathetic. It must be jarring, yes, he cooed, but you'll soon come to embrace your own desires. They're your true nature, after all.

It was... A strange conversation. To say the least.

Thankfully, Lust is the last place in the universe where you can be judged for excessive sexual cravings. It isn't the possible judgment of others that stops you from going all in, your own thoughts are what makes you hesitate.

Because, even if Vesper has made it very clear that you're to deliberately seek him out when you're bothered -No matter what he's up to- He can't possibly mean all the time, right?

It's common sense that you're not supposed to wake the Icon of Lust from a dead sleep just so you can have sex. How selfish of you! He's a King, he needs his rest.

But Gods... You're so fucking horny.

You can feel your heartbeat in your cunt. Maybe it's from sleeping in the same bed as him, where his loose fluff spreads sometimes, getting into the sheets, contaminating them. That must be the cause of your misery, in retrospect.

Well... You could get up. Look around, have a drink, return to bed after cooling off and enjoying the view from his lavish home. But you're comfortable.

And his smell... Oh, you inhale the pillow between you two faintly, it's addictive.

You don't want to get up. At all. Leaving this room sounds awful.

The tiniest bit of light creeps in through a gap in the massive curtains of your resting chambers, allowing some of the faint reddish glow of night to slink its way in, highlighting the form of your massive, recently proclaimed husband. Vesper sleeps soundlessly, a hand over his chest, the other, once holding you to his side, now dormant on the sheets, fingers periodically twitching. He sleeps bare, to absolutely no one's surprise. Legs faintly parted, offering a view you admire shamelessly in the dark. You've no doubt he has watched you like this before, so it's more than fair you get to ogle as well.

He's gorgeous. He's hot. So hot. You're married to the hottest thing that ever lived. Gods, he's such a whore.

Another flare of heat travels its way up from your loins. It would be exceptionally easy. All you'd have to do is palm at his exposed slit for a moment or two and he'd pop those treats out for you. All for you. He wouldn't even care, it's probably normal for Vesper-

With a shake of the head, you push said thoughts away as hard as possible. See? Not a moment of rest, all these gross ideas swimming around like they belong, like it's right. You're above something so rude!

But you're not above touching yourself in the same bed.

In your humble defense, you need this. You really need this, or you're going to scream and drag yourself on the ground like a bitch in heat. Panties are swiped aside with great haste, both hands quickly darting for the crux of your fire. It takes literally no effort for you to be able to slide two fingers into yourself, then three, trying to roll your clit in the best angle at the same time. It's clumsy, hurried, and unfortunately, fruitless. Instead of relieving you of this insurmountable heat, all it does is incense you further- Wishing it was more, better, bigger.

Wishing it was Vesper that's fucking your little body the way he pleases.

A whimper almost makes it past your clenched teeth.

Beside you, there's sudden movement. A large tail swatting back and forth -Wagging?- While Vesper's brows furrow and his breathing hastens rhythmically, like he's sniffing. When you halt, mortified, so does his stirring.

Idiot.

What a bright idea. As if the King of Lust wouldn't feel your desire right next to him.

Childish irritation settles in you as you sit on your own stewing arousal, sulking. Until a loud rumble jolts you, that is. After a pause of stunted blinking, you put two and two together.

While the demonlord may be fast asleep, a part of him is clearly active. Gaze falling to Vesper's abdomen, his sizeable second mouth can be seen parted, greedily flicking a fat tongue over sharp chops. It pants, a dopey sort of smile, muscle lolling as it very easily detects some poor horny sap nearby.

Or, maybe it recognizes you already. This certainly isn't your first meeting with Vesper's second mouth.

Amused, getting a couple of nasty ideas, you smile at the organ. " Hello there... " You whisper to it.

It doesn't react too much to the sound of your voice, although gleefully wets its lips and chuffs, waiting. You're sure it'll settle back down given enough time.

It's just a matter of ignoring it.

...

......

Fuck it.

Guilty eyes glance from Vesper's peacefully resting complexion to the shifting mouth beneath, and you gulp, self-control falling victim to rabid want. Again.

Slowly, silently, you wriggle out of your undergarments, keeping your breath in check as you move to straddle Vesper's abdomen. Given the size difference, and he seems to plump in a couple areas, you have a difficult time stretching your legs enough to encompass his waist.

Little does it matter, as you don't even get to sit before that muscle has already slapped itself onto your soaked cunt with a decidedly loud PLAP. Cosmic luck alone prevented you from moaning immediately. Vesper turns his face, then settles once more.

This might have been a bad idea.

The mouth is merciless on you, drool slathered on your tights, ass and belly as it gluttonously slurps at you, making lurid sounds you hope to whatever's out there won't wake the King. Terrible idea or not, it's well worth the trouble, because it's exactly the type of pressure you need to get off.

A sweet sigh makes it past your lips when shaky legs lower, having to brace your palms firmly on each side of the bed when the mouth starts smooching tenderly at your lips. How... Sweet. Cute.

Then, suddenly, it latches on. Literally. Its size allows the organ to wrap around your groin easily, applying an all-encompassing suction delicious enough to have you rolling your eyes and jerking your hips forward, nerve endings frying on a pan. God fuck yes, you didn't know it could do that!

An orgasm approaches fast, likely due to how long you've been waiting for it, building up tension. As sensation makes your lower body jerk and tense, shaky legs press you harder against that hungry maw, almost nicking yourself with bold teeth. It feels wonderful. Delightful.

Even asleep, only Vesper can make you feel this good. It's almost too funny a concept to be true.

Nothing halts the flow of keens and gasps you offer when it pauses its slurping to shove that roving muscle into your pussy, flirting with your entrance a little before feeding you more and more and more of itself, until you're groaning at the fullness. The first experimental undulation it makes is so strong that you legitimately moan out, loud and clear, dropping squarely onto Vesper and holding on for dear life as your jostled with each thrust.

You're sure you're drooling on his belly, though it hardly matters, eyelids fluttering, nonsensical pleas chanted in the dark.

" Oh fuck- Yes- Please please please, I need to come. Fffuck, I need to come... "

You're so close! It's right there, you can't wait to get licked and sucked as you ride it out, it'll be so-

" Mm, why didn't you say so? "

You don't even get to have a moment of shame when realization dawns. Large hands grab onto your hips and screw you onto the demonlord's tongue hard enough to make you see stars, the movement in your walls so frantic that you have no choice but to howl in bliss before a single excuse could flow past your parted lips.

And all you can do is flail and cry in overstimulation when Vesper continues sucking at all the arousal you can offer him.

" My Queen should want for nothing. "

His sickly magenta eyes leer at you from the darkness.

" You will come. "

It's a promise.

[blorbologist]

“i love you” + vex

“I love you.”

“Rhhhah.”

“No - I love you.”

“Rrroak.”

“I. Love. You.”

“Roak-ak-ak-ak.”

Vex’ahlia sighs in exasperation and expunges what air’s left in her lungs by slumping against Trinket. The raven flutters back a few paces at the movement, watching her with its head cocked. She can’t stand looking at it anymore, so instead tips her head skyward. Everything’s greys up there: silver if she’s feeling fanciful, smokey if she’s not. Which she isn’t, anymore. 

It’s not that fucking hard to say. 

She’s heard cats and dogs grumble it, as close as they could get. Trinket has, too - a low grumbling Ruy ruh r’ou’ that the twins have been absolutely determined to get him to repeat. And the colorful birds of Marquet which can say all that and more. That one week they spent at Dalen’s Closet, Keyleth had shrieked in surprise when one chirped canItouchyourbutt - oh, and Vax had made it his goal to teach it how to say fuck, and - 

Well. Now she’s here. 

All those birds are probably dead. Or maybe they aren’t - she doesn’t know how long they live. But she’s surrounded by the same ravens that flocked to Whitestone after Vax - after, and she’s really, really tired of them only repeating the stupidest shit.

Percy didn’t teach Leona to say fuck. Neither did Cassandra, or Kynan, or any of the childrens’ favorite guards, and Vesper would never. Grog and Scanlan know better, now that Pike’s on their asses for Juniper proudly declaring things shit. 

She’s very sure it’s the ravens. They do say fuck, and hello, oy you, and pretty birdie, and - well. Shitballs is probably her fault. Indirectly. So is motherfucker. 

(Look: they always pester her when she and Trinket hunt something down, even after they’ve been given the offal, and she really, really is bereft of opportunities to swear with all the kids running around the mansion, alright? It’s cathartic.)

Yes, very cathartic. But now the ravens taught her toddler to say fuck, and she really should do something about it. 

Vex’ahlia rolls her gaze back to ground level. The solitary raven is watching her still, throat feathers fluffing with its breaths. 

She’s pretty familiar with most of them now; this one has a bad habit of trying to steal her knives when she’s cleaning a kill. He’s very glossy, with a notch in his tail fan. It. It feels like a he. 

Trinket’s breath is a reassuring backdrop, his fur too-warm behind her in his humidity. She feels out a little scrap of meat, getting both the bear and bird’s attention. 

“Let’s try it again, darling. Come on,” she prompts. “I love you.”

The raven opens his mouth, feathers ruffled as though he’s about to squall - but he shuts it with a clack, considering her. 

Again: “I love you.”

“Rah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” Like it’s laughing.

… This will take a while.

(If pressed, Vex would say she wasn’t sure why she started with I love you. Maybe because she loves Whitestone, and wants to tell it that without being weird. Because it’s something sweet that could make people smile. Or because Percy will certainly jump if he hears her voice somewhere he doesn’t expect it.)

(Maybe because her voice, echoed within a hard beak, might just sound deeper, and more like Vax’s. And it would do her well to hear him say it again, and hope that he hears her too.)

[prankprincess123]

Spoilery Jot-Note Thoughts on Last Night's Critical Role:

(In no particular order because I'm still struggling to process everything, and mostly revolving around the twins because OW!!!)

The simultaneous PAIN and hilarity of Vex and Bozos just laying prone and wailing on eachother

Pelor's blessing is freaking amazing

Vesper - who I've seen a lot of posts expressing concern about her almost being forgotten by her parents at times because they're focused on/busy with the younger kids - being the only one specified by name in Vex's last thoughts

Vex DYING for a freaking FIFTH TIME!!?!

!!!!!!"...save him..."!!!!!!

The whole table going absolutely silent when Ozo went after Vex, and then the two clerics panicked whispering to eachother as soon as it became clear she was gonna die

"Please, not today!"

Pike, you are an actual angel. I love you

PERCY'S REACTION!!!!!!!!

Man went full smoke demon to avenge his wife despite not having an active pact anymore

I genuinely lost track of how many shots he took, and am pretty sure it wasn't exactly game legal but I don't care

The fact that both Laura's in-game husband and real-life husband immediately rushed to rip that psyco apart to avenge/protect her

Literally ripping him apart in Grog's case

Trinket! I was so panicked that he was gonna die! And then he was just having the time of his life riding Skrag

Disappointed that we didn't get a Trinket reaction to Vex's death though. We should have both story wise and game mechanics - cause the moment a ranger goes down - whether dead or just incapacitated - their companion goes into a protective rage and is supposed to get a reaction attack - and Trinket would

Keyleth just breaking my heart on repeat

"Do I see my boyfriend?!"

Girl is trying so hard to be strong and be a leader like everyone expects, but she just really needs a chance to breakdown

Vex's constant reassurances to Keyleth both this ep and the last two. Yes! Just give your sister-in-law all the hugs!

VAX!!!!!!

Keyleth frantically pulling Vax's breaking orb INTO her body to try and save him!!!!

HE'S BACK

Making sure to make immediate eye contact with both his most important girls as soon as he's able so they know he's alright and he's himself

'I head over to join the family reunion'

Percy! I know you're letting the twins have their moment, but you just watched your wife die and haven't seen your brother-in-law in 30y. You're allowed to express relief that they're both alive and breathing! Joining the hug or saying something will not hurt

Keyleth's just dissociation as soon as Vax is back. Girl, you're allowed to feel the feels. You can be happy and relieved and heartbroken and ready to murder the Matron all at once. I have alexithymia so I get not being able to identify or process all the feels, and I get not wanting to be hurt again, but you're allowed to hold onto him.

4-sided Dive a few days ago talking about how MN were all a couple bad days away from going villain, but after this I think Keyleth might be on the verge of murdering the Matron if she takes him back permanently.

As SOON as they know they have more than 5min with Vax, Vex instantly and very excitedly starting to babble about the kids, and everyone else chiming in

Vax's laughing glee at hearing about Vax'ildan Frederick, and utter baffled shock at the name Wilhand'ildan. Because yes, your family absolutely decided to both honor and tease you when naming 2/3 of your nephews.

They better get to keep him, or I'm gonna be a wreck.

I'm still screaming about everything

[elpida]

"you know I love and care for you , right?" For vesper from any of my muses.

"Yeah I know.." she commented calmly, before raising her drink up and taking the last large swig. "Every man who's ever bought me a drink also loved and cared for me too, so which category do I put you in? The genuine, or the trying to get into my pants with promises of caring and loving me?" her dark brow lifted with a curiosity. "Either way I'm still going to say thank you for the drink." she laughed softly, she'd really started to be more herself lately, less trapped, less weighed down. She'd started to have fun again.

"Im just tired of boys being.. boys. I'd like a man you know? A gentleman would be nice but maybe chivalry is dead." everything she was saying was with a flirtatious little smile, dimples that showed off on the beginnings of her cheeks, a silent challenge towards what he really wanted.

[percyslist]

Vesper had been fussing all night, her cries ringing through the empty halls of the palace. Not wanting to disturb Vex, who had been sleeping peacefully next to him, Percy was the one to get up to care for their daughter. He’d always been a light sleeper anyways, and his wife needed the rest a whole lot more than he did.

In his half-awake haze, Percy barely remembered to fetch his glasses from his nightstand before he pulled himself from the warm comforts of his bed, careful not to wake Vex. He rushed through the hallways with stumbling feet, his vision still blurry from sleep. He opened the door to the nursery and winced as the noise of Vesper’s screaming got louder as he stepped into the room. “Come on now, little one,” he said as he scooped her into his arms.

He tried everything. He tried to give her the baby formula, hoping beyond all hope that she was just hungry. She wouldn’t take it.

“There’s one trait we share,” he told her. “Stubbornness. Though I had hoped that by some miracle, you’d be at least somewhat compliant.”

He rocked her back and forth, cooing soft assurances, but nothing he did seemed to appease his tiny daughter. He cringed again as her desperate shrieks continued, the sound piercing his ears.

“Well, fuck, Vesper,” he said, sitting on an armchair with her still crying in his arms, “I’m not sure what it is that you want from me.”

Vesper, who couldn’t yet understand her father’s frustration, continued to cry. Percy was on the verge of tears himself. He wasn’t like Vex, who had taken to parenthood naturally, as if it was a natural next step after the years they’d spent adventuring. Sure, he’d taken care of his little siblings when they were children, but that had been years ago, when he’d been a child himself.

And now, here he was, a grown man who couldn’t figure out how to get his infant daughter to go back to sleep.

He didn’t know what else he could possibly do, so with a sigh, he began to sing. It was hardly a lullaby, but it was a song Percy’s parents had used when he and his siblings were too fussy in the night. Some nights, it was the only thing that got them to shut up. Over the years, as he got older, the song became a constant in his life. Even in his adulthood, after he lost one family member after another, he would hum the song under his breath when he needed the comfort it brought him.

As the beginning lyrics hit her ears, Vesper stopped her wailing and looked up at him with curious eyes, as if she could understand the meaning behind the simple melody. As if she recognized the words she didn’t know yet.

“Echo of the clock tower

Footstep in the alleyway

Sweep of the wind sifting the leaves”

Percy thought of his family often. They constantly flooded his thoughts, bringing both bad and good memories of every variety. He thought of his siblings, wondering what they would have given to have the chance of the life that Percy now did. He thought of his parents, hoping to any god that would listen that he wouldn’t have to lose his children as they did.

He thought of Vox Machina: heroes who had almost reached the status of gods, torn apart by the unforgiving hand of the Raven Queen. Percy thought of his wife, the mother of his child, the love and light of his life. Vex, the woman who had once told him that she didn’t know what she was without her brother, the only one that had stood at her side throughout it all.

He thought of Keyleth, who was now the wise and brave leader of her people, how she had cried into Percy’s shoulder after everything, muttering nonsense about how much she would give for the opportunity to hold her partner in her arms again.

He thought of Vax: not quite dead but just out of reach, unable to have the life he more than deserved, the life that for some reason, Percy got in his place.

Yet another ghost to haunt him, to remind him of his many shortcomings. Another raven to watch on from his windowsill.

Percy kept singing.

“Jeweler of the spider web

Connoisseur of autumn’s opulence

Blade of lightning harvesting the sky”

He thought of the Gods, of their cruelty and their indifference towards human affairs. When it came down to it, they cared for no one and nothing but themselves. He’d seen their selfishness firsthand.

“Keeper of the small gate

Choreographer of entrances and exits

Midnight whisper traveling the wires”

He thought of the Raven Queen, the stone-cold ruler over death and fate, the god that had pried away Percy’s chances of a normal life when he was nothing but a child.

“Seducer, healer,

Deity or thief?

I will see you soon enough”

Someday, he would be able to ask her why, face to face. He would be able to look her in the eye and demand to know why he got to live instead of his mother, his father, his siblings. He would demand to know why he got to live and Vax didn’t.

He would muster the courage to ask the questions he was too afraid to find the words for now.

Vesper had fallen asleep again, nestling into Percy’s chest. As he looked down at his young daughter, he could feel his anger evaporate, turning into a soft adoration of his child, an appreciation for the life he had gained in exchange for the one he had lost all those years ago. He had built a new branch of the family he had once considered lost to history, and for that opportunity, he was eternally grateful. But did the growth compensate for the destruction that had taken place, all those years ago?

Had the Raven Queen granted Percy new life in a way that made up for the ones she had taken so mercilessly? Was it worth it, now that he had Vex, now that he had Vesper? Would anyone ever be able to fill the empty chasms that had taken up residence in Percy’s soul since he had lost everything? Could anyone ever hope to replace his parents or his brothers and sisters? Could anyone ever bring back the man Percival de Rolo could have become, if he had not been consumed by vengeance at such an early age?

His thoughts turned to each sibling that he lost. In his head, he recited each of their names in a silent chant. A promise to remember.

Julius, Vesper, Oliver, Whitney, Ludwig.

Vax’ildan, he added, after a moment’s hesitation. Yes, they weren’t actually related, but for all intents and purposes, they were brothers. There was no other way to describe their relationship, in the years they’d known each other.

“You have taken everyone I have ever dared to call a brother,” he whispered, half to himself, half to the God he knew wasn’t listening. “But you will not take my friends, my wife, my daughter. Not in the way you took them. Not in the way you took him.”

In the shadow of the rainfall

In the brief violet darkening of a sunset

But until then I pray

Watch over him

Julius. Vesper. Oliver. Whitney. Ludwig. Vax’ildan.

Watch over him

As the mountain guards it’s covert ore

And the harsh falcon

It’s flightless young

“You had better protect him,” he continued, “Because if I get there, and I find him to be anything less than the absolute pain in the ass he was in life, you and I are going to have a real fucking problem.”

And with those final words to the wretched goddess of death, he let himself fall asleep again, his beloved daughter safely curled into his chest.

—

Vex awoke to an empty bed, which wasn’t entirely a rare occasion, so she didn’t think much of it. With a groan and a great effort, she sat upright and padded through the hallways to check on Vesper.

She froze with her hand on the doorknob when she heard the sound of Percy’s soft snores coming from the inside of the nursery. As carefully as she could, she cracked the door open and stepped inside.

Percy sat slumped on the armchair, mouth hanging open and glasses crooked on his nose, his arms wrapped around Vesper, who slept peacefully. Vex laughed softly to herself at the sight, about to close the door again when she caught a flutter of black somewhere in her periphery.

Her eyes followed the movement to the windowsill, where a raven sat, watching.

[phinniastuff]

These are the things I wrote for fest, wrote for fest, wrote for fest. These are the things I wrote for fest and now I'm feeling punchy.

After sunset, at the Syrian Embassy - table 3 - migrating birds

007 and the librarian table 4 - Q is not with MI:6.

games without frontiers table 4 - M is so done

concealer table 3 - fallen angel

the coffee shop in venice table 4 - Bond Girls

the perils of goat yoga table 3 - chalet

i love you as one loves certain obscure things - table 3 - lips

<a href=https://archiveofourown.org/works/57464965>old fashioned, extra cherries</a> table 4 - retired james bond

an elephantine explanation bond breaks q's equipment - gen

<a href=https://archiveofourown.org/works/57489703>i'm borrowing your bath, i don't want to hear another word about it</a> table 3 - bath time

relay station (stuck in the middle with q) - table 3 - lakeside flats

cattywampus - table 4 - james bond breaks in

dosing error - table 4 - drunk Q

gruesome fairy tale table 3 - knitting basket

your lover is in another castle table 3 free space

something's going around the office life at MI:6 - table 4

adventures of the patient resident City Park - table 3 finished fic

my little bird. table 4 blank space. Okay, this is a wingfic, but it retells Casino Royale. It's got Brosnan!Bond as Alec's dead mate and Craig !007 being minded by Alec after he recklessly blew up the embassy. So you've got partners, one vaguely suicidal but being kept back by moral obligations and the other just finding out about the fit-looking 006 with a death wish. It has everything. It has Vesper with wings and snarky Brosnan!Bond (who exists only in his partner's head) and brand new!Q and sympathetic Eve and Dench. And WINGS, everybody has those, don't forget.

And yes, I did a genderswap thing. I am going to finish that, too. But the wings thing grabbed my brainmeats and refuses to let them loose.

(and i know the html is screwy. i have tried to fix it. it dislikes me.)

[arcanespillo]

it says that ur into poetry in ur bio and thats so cool!!! i like poetry as well and am taking it as an elective at uni but i am actually not too good with poets so was wondering if you had any favourite poets? if not thats totally fine. maybe poetry recs? thanks ☆

poems

i'm not the river / nox by anne carson is tricky to find but there's a fragment here / PORTRAIT OF THE ALCOHOLIC WITH WITHDRAWAL / A BOY STEPS INTO THE WATER / SOME BOYS AREN’T BORN THEY BUBBLE / Thirstiness is Not Equal Division / EVERYTHING THAT MOVES IS ALIVE AND A THREAT–A REMINDER / A Man Said to the Universe / The Worm King’s Lullaby / Cortège / the triumph of achilles by louise gluck / the reticent volcano keeps by emily dickinson / the mirror by louise gluck / i go down the shore / the arrowhead / Brother / My Brother at 3 A.M / I would I might forget that I am I / the second elegy / stripped car / The Saints Come Marching In by Anne Sexton, How to Be a Dog by Andrew Kane, Angel of Hope and Calendars by Anne Sexton / I Remember / WHAT THE BIRD WITH THE HUMAN HEAD KNEW / THE TRUTH THE DEAD KNOW / In The Deep Museum / Lament / The Starry Night / A Curse Against Elegies / jesus suckles / start here / march is march / a bad day by mary oliver / Portrait of the Illness as Nightmare / lord knows / Town of Finding Out About the Love of God / fragments from Avalon Revisited (1963) by Margaret Atwood / from crush by richard siken 'the torn up road', from war of the foxes 'landscape with fruit rot and millipede', 'birds over the trampled field', 'the museum', 'self portrait against red wallpaper'/ from louise gluck's the wild iris 'clear morning' 'spring snow' 'scilla' 'the hawthorn tree' 'april' 'the jacob's ladder' 'matins' 'song' 'vespers' 'harvest' 'retreating light' 'lullaby' 'the gold lily' / from her vita nova 'the open grave' 'roman study' 'timor mortis' 'castile' 'mutable earth' 'inferno' / from faithful and virtuous night 'aboriginal landscape' 'utopia' 'the melancholy assistant' 'a foreshortened journey' 'the horse and the rider' / from meadowlands 'parable of the king' 'moonless night' 'departure' 'rainy morning' 'telemachus' guilt' 'meadowlands I' 'telemachus' kindness' 'parable of the dove' 'purple bathing suit' / from firstborn 'the cripple in the subway' 'seconds' 'letter from provence' 'firstborn' / from the house on marshland 'the pond' 'gratitude' 'abishag' 'the fire' / from descending figure 'the garden (2)' 'origins (4)' 'thanksgiving', from the triumph of achilles 'exile' 'seated figure' 'liberation' 'adult grief' 'horse'/ apostle town / the town of the sound of a twig breaking / strawberry moon by matthew dickman / the wolf god / this poem by mark bibbins (another year on the day/ of class photos/ i scratched at my face/ with a sharpened popsicle stick/ no blood just a few pink lines/ that didn't read/ what else./ i wanted a cast on my leg/i wanted braces and glasses/and my tonsils out/i wanted scars/i don't know when or whether i figured out the difference between wanting to be damaged and wanting to be healed) / ancient text by louise gluck

books

short talks by anne carson, waiting for god by simone weil, blue horses by mary oliver, dog songs poems by mary oliver, men in the off hours by anne carson, trances of the blast by mary ruefle, autobiography of red, red doc and norma jeane baker of troy by anne carson, richard siken and ocean vuong's books are famous honestly but try to read their stuff if you haven't checked them out yet (i don't like ocean vuong but i did like some bits of his first book) and also i suggest reading 'the journal of albion moonlight' if you find yourself particularly liking red doc, i hope you were not expecting old poetry because that really isn't really in my ropes

this is what i have noted on my journal :p if you can't find some stuff dm me but you can search for most poetry books on archive.org and it's free and legal

+ poems by Margaret Atwood ! i forgot, like this one

[vespertin-y]

so hey, *sits down politely in Listening Mode™* what do you think about akasaiou? :} (feel free to go off. going off is encouraged!!) /genuine

DEEP INHALE

IMMEDIATELY FORGETS EVERYTHING I'VE EVER THOUGHT ABOUT AKASAIOU DESPITE THEM OCCUPYING ALL MY BRAIN SPACE FOR MULTIPLE YEARS AT THIS POINT

TAKES SEVERAL DAYS TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION (SORRY) BECAUSE WORDS HARD EDITING EVEN HARDER

ough. um. well first of all there's LOTS of tasty hand symbolism and i go bananas for that. with saiou it's pretty explicit (i reach out, but he doesn't take my hand and the bandaging scene in the FTEs, he can't lie about the warmth of his hand in salmon mode, to a lesser extent shuuichi's accusatory finger point but ESPECIALLY in the fourth trial) for saimatsu it's a bit more subtle (kaede reaching out to pull shuuichi up when he falls out of the locker, shuuichi taking her hands over the desk to comfort her even though his own are shaking, a lingering shot of their hands desperately reaching out for eachother that they CUT from the execution and i will NEVER NOT BE MAD ABOUT-) and for oumatsu it's almost entirely in my head (them playing tag COUNTS, it DOES-). it's good food basically.

(small side tangent about that last bit - i want to focus mostly on them as a trio here, but i feel like i need to play a bit of defense for oumatsu because GOOD GOD are people nasty about it in a way they aren't about saiouma or saimatsu. no, kaede does not dislike kokichi - she calls him "hard to hate" more than once. no, kokichi is not "too mean" by pointing out her failings in the tunnel (and yes, he's allowed to be snappish when he's exhausted and injured!). kaede and kokichi are a wonderful duo who both give the other much needed pushback on the faults in their personal ideologies, and they do that while knowing when to stop and just goof off together. half the people who say their dynamic is irredeemably unhealthy are stealing that dynamic and plastering it onto kaito/kokichi because they hate ships with women in them. this has been Soapbox Time With Vesper).

i think the main reason i started shipping them - beyond all three of them just having fun/cute/silly dynamics with the other two sdhnjhsf - is that they are, to me, the core of v3. i've talked about it before (1 2) , but kaede's death is EVERYTHING to kokichi and shuuichi's parallel character arcs.

kokichi is bright, extroverted, and has a hand leading the group (challenging kaede in the tunnel, establishing the first breakfast meeting, leading the charge in convincing the others monokuma is dead even when he doesn't truly believe it) but he's never the same after kaede dies; he believes *any* kind of open cooperation will get him targeted by monokuma and killed. he resorts to manipulations on top of schemes on top of plans in a desperate attempt to never end up like her.

shuuichi is withdrawn, suspicious, and really only cooperates with one person (he suspects rantarou to the point of taking kaede aside and warning her not to ask him any more questions about his talent, he makes his own plot to catch the ringleader with no intentions of sharing it with the group) but once kaede passes on her wish he forces himself to socialize and to trust in a way he never would've before, and by ch4 *he's* basically the group's de-facto leader. if v3 had a movie poster kaede would be big and faded from the back and saiou would be back-to-back in the center with everyone else lining the corners. does that make any sense?? idk.

ough what else...i think the flaws/weaknesses in each pair are helped by their third member (kokichi has ZERO tolerance for shuuichi or anyone else putting kaede on a pedestal, shuuichi is a calming presence to balance out the oumatsu shenaniganery, kaede will simply knock the boys' heads together if they attempt Miscommunication™). i think they should all bond postgame (what if we didn't directly kill anybody but we still had blood on our hands...and then we held them!!). i think they should have one of those bunk beds with a twin on top and a queen on bottom, so saimatsu can spoon and kokichi can cackle manically from his nest of pokemon plushies. i think they should go on a boba date and shuuichi should have to pull out all his acting chops to pretend he doesn't hate the texture. i think that i love them a lot :]

[rightpastnowhere]

fluffy HCs as requested bud <33

Vesper is absolutely spoiled by VM - they get better with it as time goes on [the Trickfoots have their own kids, and the rest have their responsibilities really settle in, and Vex and Percy learn that maybe spoiling a kid rotten isn't the best way to go] but this kid gets everything. Partially because she's the first baby and SO cute... partially because Vax just died and Vex is A Mess so they're all rallying to defeat this for her, for themselves, and it's very healing to make a lil baby smile and laugh.

Scanlan actually isn't the best at lullabies - the kids turn to Pike's huskier and softer voice at bedtime. Which Scanlan is Very Dramatic About, but he has the best songs for games and chores and good times and such. But Pike lulls them right to sleep, and also offers up sea shanties when they're working on chores as a family that require a rhythm.

Sorry, but you know Willhand'ildan absolutely fucking hates his name. He and Vax'ildan (Dan) bond over not really... knowing how to deal with being named after dead people, especially the same guy their parents feel guilty about not being able to save. So Dan and Wills actually end up being very close friends, and I HC they're fairly close friends too. I HC Dan as becoming a Druid in Zephrah, and if so he and Wills either send letters regularly or Wills works as a Tempest Blade there too (shhh hes FINE hes FINE he comes out COMPLETELY UNSCATHED SHHH).

Juniper's feelings are less complicated, because Scanlan had a lot more time to come to terms with his mother's death, and her name is a lot more common / namesake less well known so people don't immediately bug her about it. She feels really touched she has this connection to this woman only her dad knew.

Not v relevant but imagine an AU where Tary and Lawrence adopt a lil Fjord. (They both settle down in Port Damali, which is where Lawrence was living, and where Fjord grew up!) Consider Fjord with gay dads who absolutely trounce on standard ideas of masculinity from the word go, and also are prolific authors. Jester would get absolutely fucking starry-eyed when he tells her lmao

OH MY GOD VM BABIES ;;;;;

vesper being spoiled by a vm who feel guilty about vax and paranoid about this small fragile lil babbu and also who want to see her have more than they ever did... they overcorrect but it's so earnest and i love them oh my god

PIKE SINGING LULLABIES!! HELP!!!! OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS

poor wilhand'ildan was fucked over for LIFE (sam and ashley are giggling as they ruin this fictional child's life it's hilarious) and i do think that would be SUCH a heavy burden, but the thought of vax'ildeux and wills being buddies........ that warms my heart sm. AND LIVING IN ZEPHRAH WITH AUNTIE KEEKS......... BLESSED

juniper <33 she has no idea how much drama her named caused LMAO

OH MY GOD THAT'S SUCH A CUTE IDEA THO ?!?! AWWWWWWWWW

thank you so much for these,,,,,,, heart full of warm happiness <33 thank you

[ray-the-ginger-queen]

After the chroma conclave had been defeated and everything had calmed, all Percy really wanted was to rest. But once again, it seems that will have to wait.

At first he’s glad to receive a letter from Whitestone, from Cass. She’s been sending him updates about rebuilding. In a way, this letter is no different. Keeper Yennen suggested a day of mourning now that the crisis was over. Whitestone had suffered for years under the briarwoods, and the revolt hadn’t been without casualties. Cassandra had agreed to a day of mourning and a candlelight ceremony for the fallen. As both a de Rolo and one of the liberators of Whitestone, Percy had been invited to attend. More like he had to attend. He knew two things immediately upon reading this information. 1. The city needed this, and he would need to be there. 2. He desperately didn’t want to go. He’d spent years lost in his grief and rage, and he had no desire to face it again. But he had a duty to Whitestone, and to Cass.

This was how he found himself standing on a platform behind Cass and beside Keeper Yennen, holding a small white candle flickering against the slight chill in the air. Cassandra spoke, Keeper Yennen spoke, even he spoke, but somehow it all felt like static. He could only hope his words came out the way he had written them, and that they were good enough for the people of his city. He tried to keep his voice even and strong, as his father would have. He never learned as much about leadership as Julius or even Vesper had, but even he understood keeping a brave face before the populous. Still, the whole thing passed in a blur. People holding candles milled around quietly down a long street. The path was lined with smooth stones, carved with the names of the fallen. Some during the rebellion or past attempts, some killed in cold blood by the Briarwoods, others simply passed from the harsh conditions. The stones were surrounded by flowers, personal items, or portraits of the deceased.

Percy milled quietly up the path, scanning the names as he went. Most were unfamiliar, but he couldn’t help but feel weighed down by each one. Archie has a stone among them, placed just before a clearing. Percy stands before it for so long his candle nearly melts almost down to his fingers before going out completely. He feels rigid, unsure of how to conduct himself in front of his best friends makeshift grave. It’s decorated more than most. There’s a small portrait of Archie as a boy, he looks too much like how Percy remembered him. Grinning with a wicked gap tooth smile. Percy can almost hear him explaining this latest scheme. One Percy would almost certainly agree to. He doesn’t realize how tense he’s getting until his candle snaps, pulling him out of his daze. There’s one area left, one he’s been avoiding all night but he knows he has to visit.

With slow and heavy footsteps, he enters the clearing past Archie’s stone. There the path gives way to a circular area of stone surrounded by bushes and greenery. There are 7 stones in this area, slightly larger than the ones on the path. These stones are similarly decorated with flowers and each has a portrait, though there aren’t as many personal items here. He doesn’t blame Cass for not putting them out. He wouldn’t have wanted to go through their things either. In the center are the two largest stones belonging to his mother and father, and between those, a family portrait. Percy stops dead at the entrance and stares his former self in the eye. Vespers hand is placed on one shoulder, his mothers hand rests on the other. He grins at his unknown future. Percy had almost forget the shade of brown his hair used to be.

He takes a deep, unsteady breath and ventures deeper into the clearing. The crowd had begun to clear in general, but some people were still around this area. Upon entry he feels all eyes lay briefly on him before darting away. He goes the the right, starting at the stone for his youngest brother, Ludwig. He doesn’t want to rush anyone out, but he’s still grateful as the remaining people in the clearing finish up their respects and hurry out. Grateful, until he realizes he’s alone with what remains of his family’s memories. He stops at each stone and feels each gouge into his chest. As he’s reaching the center he hears someone clear their throat behind him. “Hi Cass” he says quietly, his eyes unable to leave the center portrait.

Cass walks up next to him without speaking. They stand, side by side, looking back in time. Percy is 14 in this portrait. He remembers getting antsy for it to be over, he had wanted to get back to his latest project, a table clock he was working on for Vespers birthday. He was trying to figure out how to make it play music on the hour. Cass is grinning, but he remembers the hell she had put up about the dress she’s wearing. Too itchy. Too frilly. He focuses on each face. He misses them. He misses his mothers annoyed yet endeared sigh at her children’s antics. He misses his fathers hearty belly laugh, far too loud every time. He misses Julius attempting to teach him to sword fight day after day with wooden sticks, even though Percy was never very good. He misses Whitney and Oliver’s laughter, and their bickering too. He misses Ludwig bothering his mother for just one more sweet before bed. He misses Vesper listening with an amused smile as Percy went on about his latest obsession. He finally breaks his trance to glance at Cassandra. Her face is tight, he recognizes the set position in her jaw. She’s trying to keep it together. She must have felt his eyes on her. Their eyes meet and he can see that hers are shining with the tears she’s holding back.

He doesn’t know who reached for who. All he knows is Cass is in his arms. Her head is buried in his chest, his face is mostly hidden in her shoulder. He’s hunched slightly to encompass her, but not too much. She’s so much taller now. He doesn’t like to think about how much she grew in their old house, under the Briarwoods. She’s shaking, he can hear tiny sobs muffled through his jacket. He’s reminded of the little girl she used to be. He’s not sure how long they stood there, holding each other tight enough to hope they couldn’t be separated again. He’s not sure who saw them wrapped up like this. He can’t really bring himself to care. It’s only when they separate that he realized he’d been crying too. The fabric over her shoulder is wet with his tears, though some have caught in his glasses.

“Let’s go home” Cassandra mutters softly. Percy nods his head wordlessly and takes her hand. He squeezes it in attempt to offer what little comfort he can. She gives him a weak smile and squeezes his hand in return. They leave together, back to the home that was once theirs, and maybe will be again.

[teshadraws]

Hi, I just had to tell you, I’m really loving Seekers of Soul. It’s got to be my favorite ongoing PMD story right now! I hope at some point to do some fanart if the god of art block will release me lmao

I was wondering- and maybe the reason was given already and I just can’t remember (my memory is not great)- why did you choose to name the Crobat character Asra, but also call a prominent location in the story Asra? Giving two things the same name feels like a very deliberate choice. In the latest chapter, I think Asra’s mate mentions that he grew up nearby, so I assume he was named after the town, but I’m just curious about how significant the name is, and if we may learn more about it later. He did end up changing his name to Vesper to help hide his identity, but I like to think that- if the whole being dead thing is real and not a coverup, and everything the Swoobat said was genuine- the name change may also have been because he felt he was no longer worthy to share/represent the name of the town he came from. Because he was ashamed of the things he had done. Just a thought I had ^^

Anyway keep up the great work, I look forward to the next update!

Aw, thank you!!! :D I would love to see some Seekers art if the art block releases you, haha!

And since I already admitted to this in an earlier ask...the Asra thing was initially a total accident. 😂 I just forgot that I'd already named the crobat outlaw Asra while I was naming the town.

But! Since someone else brought the whole thing to my attention in time, I gave a little hint in the last chapter to try for a decent in-universe reason. Which is basically the inverse of what you said above! His real name from birth was Vesper, but he grew up near Asra and took the town's name as his alias while he was with Team Zenith. He returned to using his actual name, Vesper, when he settled down with his mate! He wanted to try distancing himself from his time as an outlaw as much as possible.

[thestalwartheart]

Hey!! This is for the prompt meme! I’d love to see you do 1 or 30 for James/Vesper, because I think it would be interesting to get your take on them. But also feel free to ignore that and write for any other pairing :)

the love that does not rust

Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Warnings: Canonical Character Death (Vesper Lynd) Relationships: James Bond/Vesper Lynd Word Count: 860 Summary:

The first time he said it was on a beach on Lake Como, but it hadn't been the last.

[Read below or on AO3.]

I wonder if that’s why I love you.

The first time he said it was on a beach on Lake Como, but it hadn't been the last.

I love you.

Well, I’m hopelessly in love; nothing to be done about it.

I don’t know why I love you, you know. You take so much pleasure in being awful to me.

Every night, they would lie together skin to skin. Work up a sweat in the summer heat, then relish the burn of their muscles in the aftermath. Trace the marks they left on each other, then shudder through their sensitivity for one last touch. Another would inevitably arrive, then another, and another. The evening breeze always felt like heaven.

Love felt like heaven.

Vesper felt like heaven.

A bird interrupted his declarations one night in Padua. It flew right into their hotel room, tiny, clueless and frightened. Vesper squealed with horrified delight.

In the tiny streets of Bergamo’s Upper Town, he murmured the words into her hair. She grasped his hand so hard he thought would bruise.

In Verona, she sprung out of bed at one in the morning, determined to run to Juliet’s balcony and see it without the crowds. Neither of them could stop smiling. She was loud, her mood utterly infectious as she called out Romeo! Romeo! and grasped him by the collar of his t-shirt to drag him into a wild and filthy kiss.

It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night, he’d quoted. Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear. Of course, he followed that up with a joke about what he could do with his rude hand.

He kept the rest of the quote to himself. There was no need to ask the trite questions of a bloody sixteen-year-old boy.

Did my heart love till now? Rubbish. James knew it hadn’t.

By the time they got to Venice, Vesper must have lost count of how many times he’d told her. She never once said it back, even after she implored him to keep saying it.

Tell me again, she’d say.

Are you sure you want to hear it?

You could say it a hundred times a day, darling. I’d never get tired of hearing it.

The one-sidedness never bothered him at the time. It still seemed worthwhile to tell her, to make her sure of it. There was no point in diluting his feelings or hiding them away. She already knew everything there was to know about him. He was all in, and he wanted her to know it.

The necklace, however, did bother him, not that there was much to be done about it. It stayed around her neck until that morning, always visible every day, despite the hundred times she fiddled with it as if she were about to take it off.

He thought when she took it off, she might admit it: that she was in love, too. She might even admit what that look on her face was about, the momentary flicker between whatever expression had been there before he said it and the wide, beaming smile afterwards. That smile, Christ. He’d never seen its like on a woman before.

Some days, he thinks he knows better what that look was now.

(Love.)

But most of the time, he feels as lost about it as ever.

(Was it love? Or was it remorse?)

He feels bloody lost now, standing in front of her grave. More lost than he’s felt since he held her for the last time in Venice, fisting his hands in that sopping-wet red dress.

He’s never talked to a grave before. When he left Skyfall — both times — he never looked back. All the dead agents he knows are names on a memorial wall, where it’s impossible to get a private moment with the dead. There are too many names and too many people in the living world grieving them. The only person he’s ever felt the urge to visit is M, and she would have risen from the dead to scoff at him had he tried talking to her.

Vesper, he has slightly more hope for, though he hasn’t a clue what to say. It’s been a long time.

It’s been no time at all.

I loved you, he thinks. I’d have forgiven you everything because of that. Even if you never said it back. Maybe I still love you.

Mathis once told him it was easy to love the dead because they could never do anything to prove you wrong.

Then tell me how to stop, James had thought. Tell me how to stop, and I will.

He never had found a way to stop. Sometimes the love feels as fresh and sharp as the day they ran away together. If she’s anywhere now — and he’s not sure she is — she must know that. God knows he said it enough.

His eyes sting with the effort of not saying it again, and he blinks away the blur in them until he can, once again, see her face smiling back at him.

That smile is still without its equal.

VESPER LYND

1983-2006.

“I miss you.”

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Admiral Jackson "Volcano" Vesper. He'll feature throughout Hearing Problems in flashbacks, and as such I need to get this up before chapter 8 is finished. He will also present as a main antagonist when I write Any Way The Wind Blows.

Possibly the most unhinged villain I've ever created. Bit proud of him, to be honest. Only a bit. For the most part, he just gives me the full-on heebie jeebies.

I used Bing AI to generate his likeness because I really wanted something accurate, once I can get a bit better at photo editing on gimp or get back into drawing again (time and stress are huge issues where that's concerned), I'll do better.

Name: Jackson "Volcano" Vesper

Age: late 50s to early 60s at death

Appearance:

Willem Dafoe for face claim, heavily edited in FaceApp

Black suit, white tie, white admiral's coat. Carries a sabre, a large bowie knife, and a standard issue flintlock pistol. Always at least a dash of crazy buried in his one remaining eye.

Black hair streaked with white. Right eye is bright turquoise, left eye is missing completely with heaby tissue damage around the socket. May or may not wear a false eye if the mood strikes, usually solid black if he does. Black and white goatee. Heavy burn scarring on left side of face, heavy tissue damage to left ear. Lean build. 6'2" height.

Personality:

While capable of putting on enough charm to keep suspicion of him and his goals manageably low, he is known for having an incredibly short temper. Mastermind when it comes to planning operations, but all but loses his mind when his plans don't come to fruition, part of what earned his monicker of 'Volcano'—he can and will blow his top at a moment's notice of everything around him isn’t perfectly in order, and there's a chance that heads will literally roll. Or burn. Whichever.

His explosive temper has led his subordinates as well as some of his superiors to fear him, which helped him move quickly through the Marine ranks and achieve the position of admiral at the age of forty. When he's stable (as stable as ge can be), he comes across soft spoken, eloquent, and levelheaded, if not downright charismatic; amd as such, incredibly manipulative. Not at all outwardly self-conscious about his scars and flaws, instead wearing them like a badge of honor; but alone, can't stand the sight of his own reflection, a constant reminder of the vengeance he has sought for decades that continues to evade him.

Pure hatred for pirates and anything to do with them, firmly oposing the warlord system for example and not shy about voicing his opinions on the matter. Strong of both will and body, he was banned from attending warlord meetings early on in his career as an Admiral, as his snide comments would often turn the meetings physically violent in a matter of minutes, and he absolutely reveled in the oportunity to see any pirate—government sanctioned or not—dead.

Abolities/Powers:

Haki: Conquerer's Haki and Armament Haki exclusively, better with the former than the latter.

Devil Fruit: Mera Mera no Mi (Logia type, fire, precursor to Ace). Has had decades to become adept with the fruit; found on one of several expiditions searching for clues as to the whereabouts of his self-proclaimed mortal enemy Helena "The Siren" Lionne, he recognized it as a gift from some unknown higher power that could help him combat the woman's prowess with her own devil fruit (Mizu Mizu no Mi, water) and consumed it without reporting it to the World Government, at around the age of 30 while he was still a vice admiral. He was heavily reprimanded for doing so but otherwise unpunished as he gave the reason that he intended to use his newfound powers not to strengthen himself but the Marines as a whole. Not the first time and definitely not the last that his charisma would get him out of trouble. Easily as adept as Ace is with the fruit later, if not even moreso, having had decades to master it.

Charisma/speech/manipulation: Slick bastard can talk his way out of any situation, make even the least gullible of people believe any lie he feeds them.

Blades: Trained from his youth by his father, a now deceased Marine Admiral, Vesper can use nearly any weapon with a blade adeptly. Temds toward one-handed weapons to keep one hand free to direct and control his devil fruit abilities.

Relationships:

Helena Lionne (OC): Vesper was an eighteen year old cadet stationed as a guard at Marineford when Helena Lionne plowed through the gates and tossed the severed head of his father at the front steps as a warning (his father, Jackson Magnus, had murdered the pirate captain's first mate without fair trial after taking her prisoner in the middle of negotiations; Vesper was unaware of the details and didn't particularly care to know them, anyway). The forces at Marineford were wholly unprepared for the unexpected assault from the dangerous pirate, and she easily escaped with her ship and the rest of her crew, but not before causing billions of berries in damages and taking the lives of several pursuing Marines. Vesper himself was caught in an explosion set off from a powder keg, resulting in the permanant disfigurement of the left side of his face, neck, shoulder, and upper torso/left arm. He lost his father and several friends and comrades to Helena's vengeance—and hos life's aim became to exact his own vengeance in return. He considers her the most vile pirate he has ever encountered.

Lyon D. Rollo (OC): Lyon knew next to nothing about Vesper when he attacked his ship, and wouldn't learn more for at least two decades. Vesper saw Lyon as nothing more than a tool to use in his hunt for Helena; essentially intended to torture him for information and kill him when his usefulness expired.

Monkey D. Garp: At one time Vesper respected Garp as the pinnacle of what a Marine should be—his superior was a ruthless, powerful presence, responsible even for taking down Gold Roger himself. Vesper, a captain by then in his late twenties to early thirties or so, was present in the crowd at the execution. It was here, after Roger's final words sparked an immediate influx in piracy, that Vesper first approached Garp and all but begged the older man to mentor him. At the time had no knowledge of Garp's close relationship with Helena, only knew that Garp was the only marine that had ever managed to capture the witch. His suspicion of Garp became prevalent when Vesper recognized Lyon D. Rollo and set out to go after the young captain; Lyon bore a striking resemblance in both countenance and namesake to Helena Lionne, and Vesper was vetond certain he had to be her son, and thus a potential source of information. By this point Vesper was an admiral in his late 40s, amd Garp was second in command on his ship when he led the expedition. Vesper killed more than half of Lyon's crew to get to him, before Garp, in an act of insubordination, was unable to restrain himself; he knocked out the admiral with a strong left hook and called for a ceasefire, allowing Lyon and what little remained of his crew to escape his sinking ship on a dinghy. This left Vesper suspicious of Garp, his mentor and one of his closest friends.

Gaspard DesLauriers (OC): A marine captain, possessor of the Mofu Mofu no Mi (Zoan type, morphing physical features, human type only), who would become the permanent second in command of Vesper, and the Admiral's only confidant. Gaspard both feared and respected the Admiral beyond all measure, and assisted heavily from Marineford in the unsanctioned operation that Vesper led to Conch Cove when he finally discovered where Helena had been hiding for all these years.

Karimi Lionne (OC): The granddaughter of Helena, who Vesper discovered when the girl snuck out of her hiding place during the attack on Conch Cove while her grandmother was in a bad position and managed to sever his first mate's achilles tendon with a throwing knife. Her resemblance to Helena was uncanny and it left no question of who she was. Vesper responded by quickly taking the girl hostage and using her as a bargaining chip—he could either kill the girl and take Helena's life by force, or Helena could give herself up willingly and allow her granddaughter a chance at life. Helena gave in immediately when Vesper began to cut into her granddaughter's neck with his bowie knife. Vesper slaughtered and took Helena's head right in front of her, and told her she would be allowed to live—provided she could find her own way off the ruined island. He left her there, content that his retribution had been delivered in spades, content with the fact that he and his entire crew would likely be executed on their return to Marineford, where he would toss the bitch's head at the front doors just as she had done his father's decades earlier.

[chronurgy]

Texture hair and favourite for Vesper please! So interesting!

Ooooo let's see, a lot of these have dual answers, one for before and one for after they lose their memories so I'll include both

Texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

So pre-amnesia I think there's a big strain of "my body is the tool by which I slaughter, not something to be decorated and enjoyed" in their thinking and they're willing to wear more or less anything. They generally dress neatly in public because it attracts less attention and will put on whatever they need to get into places without notice, but they don't really tend to think of clothing and fabrics in terms of like and dislike. I think the one thing they do insist on even then is no long sleeves, because before we had synthetic stretchy fabrics sleeves often didn't have a lot of give and could restrict arm movements and as a wizard hand and arm movements are essential to them. I think once Gortash tried to get them into some fancy outfit with tight sleeves and Vesper just took a knife and cut them off above the elbow while looking him dead in the eye. They may have also implied he was trying to fuck with their casting on purpose for his amusement. After that display he made sure everything he gave them had loose sleeves.

I also think it's through Vesper's acquaintance with Gortash that they slowly start to have opinions about fabrics beyond just the practical. He's always asking them questions about what they like and are they enjoying this and putting them in fancy fabrics and that does cause them to slowly (very slowly) start to form opinions of their own. They like the cool softness of silk and don't like velvet (they hate the feeling of dried blood crusted onto velvet). They prefer looser clothes for ease of movement and don't like stiff fabrics. I think there's a lot of internal conflict for them when Gortash learns their preferences and gifts them clothes (both for parties and more everyday wear) that are exactly what they want. And then wearing whatever they would wear in the temple which they didn't notice before but now know isn't properly tailored for them and isn't made of the fabrics they like best and think longingly of the clothes Gortash had made for them and how much better they feel and how much nicer they look and are shaken by it, because this wasn't really something they thought about before, or if it was it was something they could easily dismiss. But now they're out there thinking about clothes and their body not just as necessary tools but as sites of beauty and pleasure and it isn't something they can repress anymore like they could before. They can't even escape it by studying magic (which has always been their great love and great escape) because now they notice that the clothes they're wearing aren't cut properly for their shoulders and they can feel it when they practice somatics!

Once they lose their memories, their preferences remain the same though it takes them some time to rediscover them. They're also significantly less ashamed of them because, well, they don't know that they should be.

Hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

(I have pics of their styles in their tag, if you want a visual) They've always worn their hair short, partially as a consesion to the practicality of keeping their hair out of the way, partially because they just prefer it that way. Pre-amnesia, their hair was sort of their one little vanity. They could have cut it shorter but didn't because they liked the way it looked. It did tend to slip out of its hold as the day went on and fall into their eyes just a bit so they'd often impatiently brush it back into place, often with bloody hands that would result in red-brown streaks that stood out very obviously against their white hair. They usually had to wash their hair again before going out in public because of it.

In game, their hair is a little shorter and not quite as nice looking because Kressa hacked it off to make it easier to manage while experimenting on them in the mindflayer colony. They did feel a sense of loss when they first saw their hair after escaping the nautiloid but couldn't have explained why. It's growing back out and they'll likely go back to a similar style to what they had before.

Favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?

Pre-amnesia, it's a pair of boots that Gortash had made for them very soon after they start working together (and the first gift he gave them). I think he saw the shitty, ill-fitting shoes they wore and maybe even saw them trip during a fight due to them being too big and getting stuck in some gap in the cobblestones and was like. No. Absolutely not. Not in my house. And had a nice, well fitting, properly cushioned pair of leather boots made for them. It's a gift that's so eminently practical that Vesper was actually able to accept them without being too weird about it. The second gift they receive from him (and another piece of clothing they treasure) is a pair of the thinnest silk gloves enchanted to retain heat. This is an extravagant gift and Vesper feels that they should refuse because one practical and not massively expensive gift is one thing but this is a completely different thing and establishes a pattern, but he offers them the gloves in the middle of winter and they want them so badly because they can't wear normal gloves and cast so their hands are always freezing. So they do take them, even though they kinda feel like they shouldn't, and I do think it's this moment that both opens the floodgates for Gortash to keep giving them gifts and marks a point where their relationship really starts to intensify. Both of those gifts hold a lot of meaning for them and they wear the boots basically all the time (and the gloves all the time in the colder months).

Post-amnesia, I think it's their collection of earrings that they come off the nautiloid still wearing. They're the only things they have from their previous life so they cling to them because they have nothing else. Most of them are from Gortash, but a couple of them come from previous victims that they respected in some way (someone who fought well, someone who threw himself at them and managed to distract them long enough for his lover to escape, someone who was kind to them). They know none of this, just that they feel very protective over them for reasons they don't quite understand.

[rafor]

Chapter 36 - You can't go - The Glitch

“Who is the father of your son?” I asked Freya, hoping to learn more about her past. She shook her head and said, “I’d rather not talk about that.” I persisted, saying, “Please, you can trust me. I won’t tell anyone. I just want to help you feel better.” She sighed and said, “It’s not a secret, really. Many know about it. But I don’t want to change how you see me.” I frowned and said, “What do you mean? Do you think I would judge you for that? You’re still a queen in my eyes, no matter what.” She gave me a sad smile and said, “I know, you’re too kind. Even after I told you to stop calling me that, you still disobey my orders.” I shrugged and said, “Maybe it’s a habit by now. I’m sorry.”

She seemed to relax a bit and open up to me, like she did on the first day of training when we were on our way to the arena. She told me her story in a soft voice. “I lost him shortly after Vesper was born. He left one day and never came back. I sent everyone to look for him, but they only found some charred bones that they said belonged to a dragon. I couldn’t even recognize him. Since then, I’ve been alone.” I felt a pang of sympathy and said, “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry for your loss. How did your son cope with it?” She shrugged and said, “He never cared. He never asked about his father or showed any interest in him. Even when he found out the truth. That he was dead and not just missing. He didn’t react at all. He just told me calmly and went on with his life. He’s such a screw-up, just like his mother.” I shook my head and said, “Don’t say that. You’re both fine. You’re strong, brave, and smart. And I’m here for you until they come for me and take me away. Until then, I’ll do anything to help you. Don’t worry.”

She suddenly changed her expression and looked at me with alarm. “Oh no, how long have you been here already?” she asked. I blinked and said, “Uh, I think a couple of weeks." She gasped and said, “They should have been here by now!” I felt a surge of fear and said, “Don’t worry, maybe they got delayed. The weather has been bad in the south lately.” She shook her head and said, “No, that’s not an excuse. They should have made it anyway, or at least sent a message back. Or we should have heard from Aura herself directly in the palace.” I asked, “What do you mean by that?” She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the palace, which was a labyrinth of corridors and rooms. She ran so fast that I had to fly sometimes to keep up with her. She seemed to glide through the air with her wind powers. She finally stopped at a room that looked like an office full of papers and started rummaging through them frantically. I asked her, “What are you looking for?” She said, “A message from Aura. She must have sent one.” I asked, “How do you know that?” She explained, “She always does when she receives one of our messengers. There has to be one here somewhere.” I said, “Okay, I’ll help you find it. How can we tell it apart from these other papers?” She said, “It’s usually written on paper with red and pink borders. It’s easy to spot. Like this one.” She showed me an example of a letter that said something about “confirmation of the peace treaty between the cities”. I was curious about it, but she snapped at me, “Stop wasting time! Search!” I nodded and said, “Right, sorry. Let’s look for it.”

I had spent an hour rummaging through the room, looking for the elusive message. I tried to tidy up as I went along, not wanting to create more chaos in the midst of confusion. Finally, I gave up and said, “We’ve checked everything. There’s nothing here. Please, let it go.” She ignored me and continued to sift through the same pile of messages again, as if hoping to find something new. Then she stopped and said, “The messenger never arrived.” I knew that was not true because Akira had told me otherwise. “I’m sure he did. Maybe Aura just didn’t write anything this time?” I suggested. She shook her head vehemently. “She always writes something. She never misses a chance.” She picked up the most recent message from Aura and handed it to me. “Look at this. When did you send the last messenger to the Kingdom of Aura? And when did he come back? This is over a month old. How often do you usually exchange messages?” She said, “Every couple of weeks or so. Whenever a messenger returns, we send him back after a few days.” I said, “Then there should be a newer message than this one, right? This is just a reiteration of your old plan.” She snatched it back from me and scanned it quickly. “Oh, I remember this one. The messenger delivered it to me personally.” I said, trying to sound hopeful, “Then maybe she’s changed her way of communicating, don’t you think?” She said sarcastically, still clinging to her side of the argument, “The messenger should have been back by now anyway. It’s taking too long.” The discussion was going nowhere, so I said, “You told me it takes about a week to get to the city. And another week to come back. Maybe they had some delays or complications along the way.” She looked at the papers again, searching for something else. She found a report and handed it to me. “Look at this! You’ve been here longer than you think.” I took it and read it. It had the date of my arrival written on it, and indeed, I had lost track of time. I had been here for a month already, and that was not normal. I felt a surge of worry too. It had been a while since I heard Akira’s voice in my head, calling me or telling me anything. I wondered if something was wrong on the other side. But I also knew that Sol and Cyrus should have made it by now. I said, “Damn, I didn’t realize how much time had passed.” She yelled back at me, “You think?! Neither did I!” I tried to calm her down while hiding my own anxiety. I said, “Okay, listen, there must be an explanation for this. Don’t panic. Maybe we can send another messenger, or I can go back myself.” She replied instantly, “We don’t have another one who knows the way to the Kingdom of Aura!” Surprised by her answer, I said, “Don’t you have a map or something? I can read maps.” She said, “The maps that show the kingdom are inaccurate and outdated. You wouldn’t be able to follow them. And I’m not going to send you on a suicide mission. I don’t want you to get lost forever in this vast world.” I said, “Fine, then what do you suggest we do?” She was silent. She didn’t know either. I said, “I have another idea. What if I look for someone here in the city who might know the way there? There has to be someone. I’ve seen merchants coming and going sometimes, claiming they have goods from the Kingdom of Aura.” She said, “Merchants are not trustworthy, and I wouldn’t rely on anyone here for such a journey.” I said, “Maybe they could just tell me the direction, and I could take notes and follow them.” She said, “That’s impossible. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get to a place you’ve never been before with just some vague instructions? It’s impossible.” I gave up. She was right. It was too risky and uncertain. I thought there was nothing wrong with asking for some help from someone who knew the area better than us, maybe even offering a reward for their guidance, but no, she wouldn’t agree to that either. She wanted me there, safe with her.

[windupnamazu]

the weight of living

ffxivwrite2023 #21: grave a burial place.

Lunya & G'raha. Pacific Rim AU. 393wc. ⮞ There's an albatross around your neck.

He finds her out on the northernmost deck of the Shatterdome as the first rays of morning light paint the city of Vesper Bay in rosy pinks and warm oranges. For a city on its final legs, standing defiantly in the face of the apocalypse, it's beautiful—even the ichor-filled sea dyed primal violet and the hulking silhouette of Ifrit's skeleton forming the Bone Slums are peaceful in the moment, and he stays silent as he approaches her with slow steps, not wanting to disturb her prayers.

But Lunya turns anyway, her smile gentle, attention stirred by the Drift and their permanent resonance, an unending song between them. Wisps of her freshly-cut hair flutter in the wind and she's cast golden and holy in the sunrise.

"When Marshal Leveilleur and Einar left for Carteneau, I had a feeling they weren't coming back," she says, eyes trained on the rising peak of the Shatterdome behind him. "You feel that way with every battle, but that day I couldn't shake the idea that this is it. This is when I lose him."

And she was right. The cairns dedicated to the lost Marshal and Warrior are merely that: cairns. Piles of stone. Markers for something that could be here but isn't. Endless are the number of should-be graves piled with flowers that can't exist because there was nothing left to pull from the wreckage.

"I didn't cry when they told me he was dead." She doesn't cry now, either. Neither of them think she remembers how to. "I told you that, right? A lot of people think I'm heartless because of it."

And they're wrong. He knows her heart more than she's ever allowed anyone else to. The girl before him is made of galaxies and a raw, relentless, burning kind of love, the kind that moves gods to test their children and leave them to find their own answers. All-consuming. Bone-aching. It's echo in his own leaves him starving, desperate for more.

But he doesn't need to say so out loud; Lunya's smile tells him she knows everything, just as he knows all of her.

"They live in my memory," she says with a sort of finality. "Do you think that's enough?"

"I think it has to be," G'raha says honestly.

When they leave for breakfast, hands entwined, two Nymeia lilies remain in their place.