Eventually Together // Vander X Reader

I'm back with my Cliff x adult mc ideas, I just love this man so much. On the idea of mc also being a single parents, what if mc has either a newborn baby or a very young toddler, and after dating Cliff for a little while the baby's first word is 'dada' and directed at Cliff?

LOL I should really know better than to check tumblr while I'm working because it was a STRUGGLE not to stop and write all this, I love him so much, please keep the Cliff requests coming if you like this because I love it and him forever and ever amen

I couldn't do baby's first words, not with my idea of Cliff lol, but it's the same gist!!!

For years, Cliff had figured that he'd spend the rest of his life alone. Well, not alone, not truly -- he had Cove, and he was all he really needed. He had Kyra, who had become a dear friend, and he had Pam and Noelani who had always been there for him. But he'd always known that when his son grew up and moved out, he'd be, most of the time, alone.

Then he met you. And you proved him wrong.

He thought about that as he gently stroked your hair and listened to your breathing getting deeper as you fell solidly asleep, your head on his lap.

Looking back on it, Cliff couldn't figure out if he'd fallen in love with you slowly or if had happened all at once. There was an attraction the first time he met you, but it wasn't unusual at all for him to recognize that a person was attractive and then do absolutely nothing about it. But the deeper connection he felt, the overwhelming affection he had for you -- that was definitely unusual.

You'd met at his shop, over a year before. You'd just moved to the area, it was your first time living by the beach, and you'd wanted to appreciate it fully. He didn't learn all of this the first day, but you'd gotten out of a bad relationship and wanted a fresh start for you and your son, who was just about six months old at the time.

"I was thinking about taking scuba lessons, and I saw online that you offered them?" was what you'd told him that first day.

He'd smiled at you, a wide, friendly grin like he gave all his customers. He gave you the schedule of when the lessons were offered, and his smile faltered a bit when you frowned. You couldn't make any of these times, you'd explained.

"Here's the schedule for next month's lessons," Cliff had said quickly, pulling out another flyer. But those wouldn't work either. You could only take lessons on certain weekdays, and only during the mornings, you'd said. You had a baby who was in day care and you were trying to fit in a few hours for something you'd always wanted to do, but you could figure out something else.

There was the smallest hint of sadness in your voice, and it hit him hard. He remembered those early days when Cove was a baby, the sheer exhaustion, the desperation to do everything right and how hard it was to find the time to do something to take care of himself. It was hard then, and he'd had Kyra. You, it seemed then, and later on he learned, had nobody.

Before Cliff could even think about it, he said, "We could do a private lesson. What time works for you?"

"Oh no, that's all right," you'd said, shaking your head, "I couldn't --"

"My treat," he interrupted, cranking his smile back up to its full power. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and right then, he really, really wanted to be.

And he was, charming enough that you ended up agreeing to a free private lesson. Then you agreed to another. After that, you agreed to dinner.

He thought about all of it as he watched you sleep. How it took so long for you to come together, to conquer your respective fears and hang-ups and admit that you wanted to be with each other. How he wouldn't trade a moment of any of it for anything.

Cliff glanced at the clock, then back down to you. After taking a listen to the baby monitor that sat on your coffee table to make sure your son was fast asleep, he slid a hand down to your shoulder and gently shook you awake.

"Time to get in bed," he said quietly, leaning down to plant a kiss on your temple.

Knowing how sleepy you must be if you'd passed out on his lap during movie night, he carefully slid out from under you and stood. He grabbed your hand and helped you up, despite your protests.

"You can go right back to sleep," he laughed lovingly, placing a steady arm around your waist. "But let's get you more comfortable first."

He grabbed the baby monitor then led you to your bedroom. A quick peek in your son's room showed him that the little boy was sleeping soundly on the new toddler bed he'd assembled last week for him. He smiled at the sight, placed another kiss on your head and continued down the hall.

When you were inside your room, nearly asleep on your feet, he softly shut the door behind him and started undressing you. He'd undressed you plenty of times with more impure thoughts in mind, and though he couldn't help but land little kisses on your skin as he uncovered it, this wasn't that. When you were down to your underwear, he grabbed your pajamas from a drawer and put them on you.

Cliff was so focused on the task that it surprised him when he you wrapped your arms around his shoulders when he was done. You pulled him in for a kiss, on the lips this time finally, and he readily accepted. He let you pull him in closer, and he kissed you harder. Every time you kissed like this, no matter how many times it had happened, he made sure to be completely in the moment, to appreciate how lucky he was. To take you in and savor every single second that you shared yourself with him like this.

He was slipping a hand under the bottom of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin when you pulled back to look at him.

"Stay?" was all you asked.

How could he say no to that?

He kissed you again, slower this time, happy to have the night to take his time. Before he could really get to work, he heard a little thump coming from the baby monitor.

You stopped kissing him and dropped your head against his chest, letting out a sigh. Your son had been having a hard time sleeping, which is why you'd been so tired. Before Cliff could offer any words of encouragement, the door flew open, and there was your little boy, wide awake and grinning.

"It's supposed to be bedtime," you told him as you scooped him up in your arms. He laughed and hugged you tight, his little fists bunching in your hair, and you smiled.

"I wanna play," he told you. You told him that you'd played all day and now it was time to sleep, and then the boy said something that nearly stopped Cliff's heart.

"Not with you, I wanna play with Daddy."

You froze, then Cliff saw your eyes dart to him. There was concern there, he saw, but before he could say anything else, your son twisted in your arms and started making little grabby hands at him.

"Wanna play with Daddy," he repeated, reaching for Cliff.

"I don't know where he heard that," Cliff heard you mutter -- or he thought that's what he heard, he couldn't be sure because he had burst into tears. The boy looked at him quizzically, then made a dive for him. Cliff caught him easily, and the tears came even faster when it was his turn to receive a hug.

"It's ok," he said, looking back at you. "I don't mind at all."

You started crying as well, which only made Cliff cry more. He reached his free arm over and pulled you into the hug. You buried your face into his chest, and he kissed your head. He'd never pass up an opportunity to kiss you.

After a moment, you pulled back and looked at your son and offered him a smile, telling him, "We'll talk about this in the morning, ok?"

"Don't wanna talk, I just wanna play."

You laughed, then gave Cliff a nod. Knowing what you meant, he hoisted the boy over his shoulder, bringing out a flood of giggles, and took him back to his own room.

For the next little while, Cliff put his all into playing. He lifted your son high in the air, then carefully tossed him down on the bed, earning more giggles. And when the toddler was finally tired out again, he watched you put him back into bed and pull his blankets over him.

Raising Cove was the best thing he'd ever done. It was the most rewarding experience of his life, watching his own son learn and grow and become a person he was so unbelievably proud of. When he'd met you, Cove was almost grown, and part of Cliff was sad that that chapter of his life was coming to an end.

But when he was like this here in your home, with you and your son, he thought he just might get lucky enough to do it all over again.

"I really don't know where he heard that," you told him when you were back in your bedroom. He took his clothes off while you got into bed, and after turning the light off, he joined you.

"I really don't mind," he said as you turned your back to him and scooted backwards up to his chest. Cliff was a big guy, and although it had been ages since he slept with anyone, it didn't take him long to remember how much he loved being the big spoon.

"I understand if you do, of course," he continued, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer against him. "But I don't want you to think it's going to scare me away."'

"It's not?" you asked, so quiet he nearly missed it.

"Nothing would," he said truthfully. He heard your breath hitch as he moved his hand under your shirt again, placing his large hand flat against your bare stomach. He brought a kiss to your shoulder, thinking in passing about how he could never, not for the rest of his life, take being able to hold you like this for granted.

It would have to be a conversation, Cliff knew that. Your son couldn't just slip into calling him "daddy" without one -- he knew at this point that he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, that he would be honored to be your son's dad one day, but his own life experiences had taught him to be careful. He knew now to go slow and take all the right steps when it really mattered.

But for now, as he felt your breath slow down again under his touch and with the soft sounds of your son's light snores through the baby monitor, he could let himself appreciate this feeling of bliss.

Free Palestine!!!

🇵🇸🍉

8 months of Genocide and, 15,500 children killed

30,000 orphans

35,000 child amputees ( Gaza has the largest population of child amputees in the world)

and there are people out there still justifying this??? like are you not human enough?

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE!

(the linktree to donate for the people of Palestine is in my bio)

Best touchstarved fic so far YUHHH

One Step Closer

Vere x Reader: Reincarnation AU Part 2! I really need to come up with an official name for this, shouldn't I? Anyway, this ended up being much longer than I was planning, so it looks like there will be a part 3 before I start getting to the endings. I currently do not have access to my laptop, so I had to depend on someone else's playthrough for dialogue, so if the MC in this one feels v=catered towards the Hound origin, that's why and I apologize in advance.

Content Warnings: Vere-typical swearing, innuendos, and death threats. Also, there's a brief mention of a dead body.

Other: Yet another brief Undertale reference, but it only pops up once. Vere might be OOC. Hopefully better usage of italics and semicolons (English is my first language, but I am a victim of the American Education System). Trying to avoid using a name for MC/Reader during two scenes where the use of their name was very deliberate and important to the game (because I forgot that "y/n" is a thing). Word Count: 3k words.

This work may be edited in the future if I discover any previously missed typos or content warnings. This work will not be cross-posted anywhere and I will make a direct announcement if that ever changes.

The memory of your face was both a blessing and a curse to him.

Sometimes it was a bittersweet sight from his sweetest of dreams; a reason for him to get through the motions every day just so he could see you again once sleep came for him.

Other times it haunted his worst nightmares: the look of fear, pain, and betrayal being the last thing he saw in your eyes before the life vanished from them completely.

He tried to forget that face, but he clung to any memory of your other faces the way a web clung to a spider's prey.

Many of the pages in his sketchbook were dedicated to those faces of yours. Many lives were taken from poor fools foolish enough to be curious about them.

None of your faces---or bodies, for that matter---were exactly the same; there was always some small difference.

Eye color. Hair length. Freckles. Height.

There was always something different.

But despite that, it was always you.

So imagine his surprise when it was you---or at least, a particularly familiar stranger---he spotted strolling out of the Wet Wick and through the streets of the Amaryllis district as he waited for the Senobium cleric given the unfortunate task of having to deal with him today to finish her business.

Whatever was left of his heart froze for a moment and his lungs felt as if they were filled with dread instead of air.

Surely it wasn't you.

It couldn't have been you.

He easily could've just ignored them; let them walk past without any knowledge he was there.

But he had to know. He had to be sure.

He needed them closer---needed them to turn and look him in the eyes so he could get a proper read on their soul; it would put any and every question to rest.

Besides; if it wasn't you, then they'd make a good distraction for the night before he inevitably killed them by the next morning.

But if it was…

As he pondered on what exactly he would do if it really was you, the stranger strolled further down the street. He had to act quickly.

It wasn't much of a hassle; just a little trick with the shadows which loomed from the walls of the surrounding buildings.

The stranger froze, the smell of their fear permeating the air as he nabbed a key from their cloak's pocket.

They reeked of blood, death, sweat, and cheap booze. The latter two scents weren't unexpected; they did just leave the Wick, though he did let out a brief, rumbling snarl when he smelled that damned hound on them. The former, however? Neither of the two scents were uncommon in this shithole; just earlier today he watched as a few locals stepped over a partly rotted corpse that had been left in a walkway because nobody could be bothered to clean it up.

But the scent clinging to the stranger was a bit different---as if it was the stench of their own death and blood clinging to them instead of someone else's.

How curious…

He retracted the beastly shadow once he noticed they were going to turn around; finally allowing him to see their face.

It looked startlingly similar to the face you the day of the incident. The only immediate difference he could spot was that their hair was off a shade.

They surveyed the area, panicked and confused, before finally spotting him, sitting on a stoop and lounged against a wall.

While he was able to see their eyes now that they were looking at him, he wasn't able to get a good view of their soul just yet.

He needed them closer.

He baited them with their key---claiming that they had dropped it, but he didn't want to toss it to them, just in case some urchin ran by and stole it while it was still in the air.

They didn't trust it. If it weren't an inconvenience to him, he would've laughed at how they were smart enough to be cautious of him right off the bat despite getting all close and personal with Leander.

But with some teasing and flirting, he eventually managed to urge them closer---even if it was just to snatch up their key and move away from him as quick as they could.

Unfortunately for them, he was faster.

As they made to grab their key from his palm, he snatched their wrist and pulled them closer; finally giving him the chance and view that he needed… as well as a good whiff of the smell of that fucking doctor.

His suspicions on that note were proven to be correct, but there was something else…

Something not quite Human, but also not quite Monster… How inter---

"VERE!"

And of course the fucking cleric chose right then stop taking her sweet time. Gods-fucking-dammit.

He managed to trick the woman into believing he was just chatting with a friend and sent the stranger off with some free advice before the cleric dragged him off on his leash.

As he listed to the sound of their footsteps as they walked away---at an insultingly yet understandably brisk pace---he made a mental note to go visit the Wick once he was let off his leash for the night.

He'd get another chance there.

-=-=-=-=-

The Wick was suficatingly filled with the usual regulars; the stench of sweating, unwashed bodies watered-down booze clouding the humid air.

Vere sat by Ais---who had only just showed up less than an hour ago---towards the end of the bar, watching the crowd.

He still hasn't spotted the stranger yet. At this point, he was starting to wonder if he was wrong about their lodgings. He was close to just leaving---the mixture of annoyance at his incorrect guess and at Leander's joyful chitchat making a truly dangerous combination.

"Pardon me."

No human being would've been able to hear the soft-spoken request from where he was sitting, but Vere could hear the doctor perfectly well as he parted his way through the crowd.

His exasperation at his appearance was just enough for him to almost get up and leave---until he spied two heads trailing behind Kuras's towering form:

Mhin, who apparently formed a habit of following Kuras around like a lost kitten whenever they needed something to do with their time…

And the stranger from before.

About damn time.

He watched as the trio approached Leander, who was just putting the finishing touches on whatever abomination of a drink he was trying to kill Ais with this time. He was momentarily distracted at the glowing green liquid in the glasses that Leander slid down to them, which was followed by Ais downing it in one go.

"It's chewy."

"Chewy? Wait, let me try again…"

"I told you this place was a nest of degenerates."

Vere's attention was drawn back towards the three at the sound of Mhin's grumbling. As Mhin and Kuras quietly spoke to each other, the stranger observed the bar; seeming surprised to see him and Ais there.

He noticed that their gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than it did for Ais before they returned their attention back to their companions.

"Ah, if it isn't Kuras and Mhin!" Leander exclaimed, finally taking notice of them.

Either he didn't see the stranger, or they haven't been introduced yet.

"Good evening, Leander. Ais. Another drinking competition?" Kuras said, approaching the bar and ignoring him entirely.

Good. He didn't need another annoyance on top of everything else already.

Vere just turned to Mhin. "I almost didn't see you there, Mhin. Looking for your booster seat?"

It was petty and entirely unprovoked, but he needed to take the edge off somehow.

The white-haired mercenary pushed back their hood. "I though Ais wasn't allowed to bring his pets in here."

Oh this little---

As Vere's ears flattened against his head and his tail twitched angrily, Leander vaulted over the bar, slotting himself in between Ais and Kuras, snaking an arm around the latter's shoulders and offering him one of his horrible drinks---effectively preventing a fight.

"I'm afraid not. We were merely escorting them back to their lodgings." He responded, gesturing to the stranger, who reluctantly stepped out of the shadows at their acknowledgment.

Leander's face brightened---indicating that the two of them had, in fact, been acquainted. He immediately waved them over and introduced them to him and Ais.

(The name was different than the last one he remembered you bearing, but that didn't mean much of anything. They were almost always different---except for that one time, but even then, the spelling was different.)

Once again, they were still too far for him to get a good look at their soul. At this point, he almost believed they were doing it to be spiteful.

Leander starts talking again, and Vere tunes him out as he orders a flute of champagne---the only drink that doesn't taste too much like rat's piss.

Everyone's attention turned towards him when the bartender popped the bottle.

"They serve champagne here? Since when?"

"You don't mind, do you?"

"No, be my guest. I know you've got expensive taste…"

Vere sipped from his glass as Leander shot the bartender a frantic look and Ais offered to buy a drink for the stranger---calling them "Sparrow" as he did so.

Leander interjected and offered to buy them a drink instead.

It's their first night here and they've already got these two in a dick measuring contest over them. He was almost impressed.

Either way, they get their drink and Leander holds a toast to their arrival---much to their own dismay. Vere was finding himself more and more peeved by the minute, but still, he lingered.

They'd move towards him eventually; he was sure of it.

The conversation moved---Vere learned that the outsider apparently already managed to find themself on death's door twice today. Clearly, they had not taken his oh-so generously offered advice earlier.

Vere just turns to speak to Ais for a moment. Once he tunes back into what the rest of them are doing, he notices that Kuras, Leander, and Mhin have all disappeared somewhere; leaving the poor outsider all on their own.

"Lost your tour guide?"

They turn to him and Ais, their expression going from indifferent to mildly irritated.

Guess Ais left a bad impression on them as well. Or he was just particularly successful in his earlier ploy to annoy them.

He tried to offer them the seat next to Ais, but they were still hesitant.

Ah. The song and dance continues.

"How about we start fresh, hm? Begin with proper introductions, get off on the right foot and whatnot. I'll start…" He readjusted himself on the counter, resting his chin on the back of his hand, "The name's Vere. Hunter extraordinaire."

They were quiet for a moment. "I'm sure you already know my name…"

"Hard not to when Leander's shouting it every other second. It's a pleasure to formally meet you…"

His tone when he spoke their name was slow and deliberate, savoring every syllable; earning him yet another flustered reaction.

They were far too easy. If they weren't who he thought they were, they'd be fun to toy with for the night.

They glance over Ais's shoulder, then they start heading towards the entrance. "I'll be back."

He just hummed and waved his fingers at them. As they stepped away, he considered ordering another drink, but chose not to. It would be easier to plan a way to get them closer if he were at least somewhat sober.

Then he heard a grunt behind him. "Out of my way, shitstain."

Turning, he saw that the outsider had apparently bumped into some drunken roughneck. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"You watch it!"

Probably the other way around, then.

That was enough to piss off the roughneck, who shoved a bloodhound out of the way as he angrily stalked towards the outsider. Once he makes it over, he shoves them down to the floor.

Well, that's certainly an issue for his plans.

Fortunately, before he can start throwing punches, a few bloodhounds circle the two of them; sizing him up as the outsider was still stuck on the floor.

Ultimately, the roughneck was smart enough to back off at that point. He spat at them, barely missing their cheek, and started to walk away…

Only to find himself face to face with Ais.

Ais smiled. "You'll do."

Then he punches him square in the jaw. Chaos follows in the form of shouting and cheering as the outsider scrambles to their feet.

It doesn't take long for Leander to yell at the two of them to take it outside and distract the rest of the bar-goers with a free drink; immediately followed by the bartender throwing him an annoyed glance as everyone else started cheering.

Ais left out a back exit, dragging his quarry out with him.

Kuras lingers near the door, surveying the bar for any wounded people before departing.

Mhin drew up their hood and slipped through a side door, apparently separated from Kuras during the brief fight.

Leander made his way to the bar opposite of where Vere sat, frantically apologizing to the bartender.

Vere just leaned over and grabbed a glass of wine from behind the bar, watching the outsider through his peripheral vision.

They stand still for a moment, surveying the bar. Then, they move towards him; their steps hesitant. Eventually, they slide into the seat beside him as he sips from the wine glass.

Finally.

He didn't turn to them just yet; souls were easier to read when their bearer was vulnerable. He wanted them to let their guard down, first.

"I didn't think you planned on sticking around."

"A free drink's a free drink, even if it tastes like rat piss."

"Didn't you say you wouldn't be caught dead slumming in this shithole?"

He sips from his glass, tail thrashing below the bar. "You've caught me red handed." He peered at them over the rim of his glass, "How ever will you punish me?"

"I figured my company's punishment enough for you."

Vere felt a small smile form on his lips. "So, you survived the night. Are you here for praise or would a headpat do?"

"About that. Turns out you were right; I did run into trouble---"

He knows. He could smell the Seaspring's lingering odor on them, as well as the stench of a Soulless.

"---Now I don't know if you're and oracle, a threat, or just completely full of shit."

He scoffed. "Most people would buy me a drink before insulting me."

"After the way you jerked me around? If anyone's owed a drink, it's me."

He didn't dignify that statement with an immediate response. Then, he propped his chin on his wrist. "I don't think you understand how things work around here. Information is a luxury; one you flung so carelessly aside."

"I'm not following."

"If you valued my words, you'd have taken them seriously. I gave you free advice---warned you of the danger you were in, and still you went parading off to the Seaspring. Small wonder the Soulless didn't tear you to ribbons."

"How did you know---"

"I have a very sensitive nose, remember?"

They glared at him. "Right how could I forget. Do you normally greet people by shoving your nose into their laps like an overeager Labrador?"

Vere glared at them for a heartbeat; a warning. Then, he laughed under his breath.

He'd let them get away with that one. After all, they only just got here. It's not like they knew…

"Only the ones I like." He sets aside his now empty wine glass and reaches for a long-abandoned tumbler of whiskey. "But the truth is, I despise most people."

His eyes flickered over their shoulder as Leander's boisterous laughter erupted from the other side of the bar, as if proving his point.

"What about me? Now that we've started off on the right foot…"

At last, he turned to face them fully. His gaze slowly glided over them as he sized them up, before finally ending on their eyes.

He could see the faint flickering of an agonizingly thick layer of suffering. An enticing sight, but still an inconvenient one. The suffering that one has gone through during their life always clouded the true nature of their soul; especially if it was left untreated.

"I haven't made up my mind about you, yet."

He turned back to the bar. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Have I done something to piss you off."

He let out a short sigh. "No. I'm just disappointed. People like us can't help but attract danger. Yet you seek it out, and for what? Cheap thrills?"

"I wasn't trying to get eaten by Soulless! There's something I'm looking for…"

"And you think Mhin can help you? Leander!? Are you really willing to risk your life with those dipshits?"

"What life? You've got no idea what I've gone through--- Oh, forget it."

They made to get up from their seat, but Vere stopped them by softly placing his hand on their shoulder; little more than a brush, but apparently enough to get their attention.

He said nothing, for a moment---simply searching their eyes; trying to glean whatever information he could from the suffering which marred their soul.

Now that he actually had a moment to read it, the answer was clear as day: betrayal.

Yet there was something… different, about it. There were many forms of betrayal, and each one left its own distinct mark, but whatever form this outsider faced was new.

No, not new. Not quite. Instead, there appeared to be two different type of betrayal there: one dealt recently, and one that seemed more… ancient.

The outsider simply continued to become more and more interesting by the hour.

"They couldn't even begin to understand you. But I could. I could help you, if only you'd listen."

"…How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't. But I'm slightly less inclined to waste your time with empty flattery and insults than those two."

They didn't respond to that.

"Is what you desire truly worth risking your life for?"

"If you knew what kind of life I've live, you wouldn't be asking."

Vere considered their response for a long moment before speaking again. "Will you trust me?"

"…For now."

Vere ignored the oddly familiar pinprick of satisfaction in his chest. "Good enough for me." He raised the tumbler to them, then he snapped back the dregs. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand once he finished. Let's talk. Outside. If I have to smell Leander's skunky aftershave for much longer, I'll hurl."

He slipped away from the bar, leaving the outsider to trail after him, out a side door and into and alleyway.

< Part One | Part Three (WIP) >

Thanks for tagging me @merrydoe !! <3

One of my irl friends sent our group chat this quiz! It's so cute!

Here's my results!

Tagging frens if they want to do it! No pressure ofc!

@faaarawayyy @veryeyecoded @wrong-gen-birth-unironically @autism-criminal @swagmaxxer and anyone else!!

My TOUCHSTARVED Hound OC

Nihil, The Hound

Personality: The Silent Hermit

Pronouns: He/Him

Height: 5'4

Likes:

Solitude, Cleanliness, Layered Clothing, Sleeping, Hoarding trinkets, Silence, Dark places, Cooking (rarely), Gardening.

Dislikes:

Everyone (including Princess), Betrayal, Flirting, Strong smells, Mirrors, Loud noises, Alcoholic beverages, Sudden movements, Public places, Being indebted.

Fatal Flaw: Has forgotten how to trust individuals.

Others: Nihil almost never goes outside. If he does, it's for personal errands.

• Nihil is a Latin word which means Empty. He surely got his name from how big and empty-looking his eyes are. He sometimes makes people uncomfortable if he stares at them for too long.

• He's got eyebags not from lack of sleep but from crying. He does that when his other coping mechanisms don't work. He avoids everyone and tends to not speak even when spoken to.

• Abandoned and betrayed at a young age, Nihil was left injured after a Soulless attack. But he somehow survived... He woke up in Kuras' clinic, mostly unresponsive. At this point, he barely reacts to anything.

Character Interactions:

• Kuras → Dislikes, because of how indebted he is to him for saving his life.

"..............."

"Ah, good evening, Nihil. What brings you at this--"

*Nihil drops a sack on the counter and then continues to glance at Kuras to the sack*

"... Do you want me to open it?"

*Nihil nods as Kuras opens the sack, now inspecting the items inside*

"Alright... Are these... Herbs?"

*Kuras looks at Nihil surprised and the man nods again*

"Nihil, these types of herbs can be used in ointments for treating amputation injuries. Quite rare indeed, even in Eridia. Where did you-- .... Nihil?........ Sigh, He disappeared."

• Leander → Dislikes, because of how annoying he is in the morning and how loud he is in the evening.

"...................."

"Mornin', Nihil! Just in time for breakfa- Hey, where are you going?"

*Nihil speed walks the fuck out of the Wet Wick*

• Mhin → Dislikes, because of their rude attitude.

".................."

"......................"

"............................"

"Will you stop your gawking? Focus."

"..............."

"Ughh... How on earth did Kuras deal with you?"

• Vere → Dislikes, because... It's Vere.

"Well, Well, well. If it isn't the Menace of the Abyss."

"................."

"Finally coming out after your hibernation period from your hidey-hole?"

"........................"

"Ugh, Leander should at least train his favorite mutt to hold one conversation."

*Vere leaves the Wet Wick*

"............ Bitch."

• Ais → Dislikes, because of how much of a cocky bastard Ais can be.

"......................"

"... Something on my face, Sparrow?"

*Nihil keeps staring at Ais' smirk and pulls out a dish of cooked seafood. Ais' smirk falters*

".............."

"...................."

*Nihil bites a huge chunk of the seafood, still staring at Ais.*

"............................"

"..................................."

Bakamitai 😔

Bro misses his bros

As a rule of thumb, don't reblog donation posts or people asking for donations unless they've been vetted and reblogged by Palestinian bloggers. We usually go to lengths to verify this shit because we know scammers have been faking to get people to send them money, using the urgency of our genocide as bait.

It's disgusting this is what we're dealing with, but people are losing money because of some truly evil people out there.

Accounts don't just randomly spring up on tumblr without gofundmes while asking for someone to help them create a campaign. Fuck out of here with that shit.

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

(a low-effort, self-indulgent post about 141 x sunshine reader with a love for flowers <3)

Moving to a military town had been a gamble. You weren’t military, had no family in the service, and you had no real reason to pick this particular place other than the fact that it was safe, stable, and quiet. The houses were affordable, the people were friendly enough, and you figured you could make a home here. Besides, you were far enough from the base to avoid their early morning drills but close enough to still feel secure.

And it was nice. Really, it was.

The town had its charm. It was small, orderly, and filled with people who were either part of the military or had long grown used to living in the shadow of it.

You just hadn’t expected it to be so… plain.

Everything was muted, designed for practicality rather than beauty. Row after row of beige houses, identical porches, yards that were neat but uninspired. It felt more like a barracks than a town, and you knew you wouldn’t last long surrounded by such monotony.

So, you changed it.

Within a week of moving in, your porch was transformed into a floral wonderland. Ivy and jasmine vines trailed along the railings, hanging baskets, overflowed with cascading petunias, swung from the beams, and the front steps were lined with carefully arranged potted blooms. Roses, marigolds, lavender- anything that could inject some color and life into the dull uniformity of the street.

And the town noticed.

It started small- passersby slowing down, lingering in front of your house, knocking to ask if they can take pictures. Then came the comments at the local market.

“Did you see the new house on [] Street? The one covered in flowers?”

“I thought I was dreaming- looked like something out of a storybook!”

“Oh, that’s her place. She’s always out there, tending to them. Such a sweet thing, always smiling.”

And then came the soldiers.

One morning, while you were watering your newest additions- lilies this time- a group of soldiers on their way to base slowed in front of your house. Their conversation died off, replaced by muttered confusion.

“Didn’t know we had a damn botanical garden in town.” One of them said, adjusting the strap of his gear bag.

“Are those-” Another squinted at your newest arrangement. “Does she change them?”

“She does,” a woman in the group confirmed; you had seen her before, you were sure. “Saw her planting new ones last week. Honestly, it’s nice.”

You smiled to yourself, pretending not to notice as they carried on their way.

But it didn’t stop there.

Another soldier stopped during his run, hands on his hips as he took in your porch. “Hell of a setup.” He commented, glancing at you.

“Thank you!” You beamed, wiping your dirt-streaked hands on your shorts. “Wouldn’t want the town looking too drab, now would we?”

His lips twitched. “Well, you’re succeeding.”

More and more soldiers began to take notice. Some just passed by with lingering glances, others stopped to admire the work. A few even asked for gardening advice- one particularly flustered private admitted he wanted to impress his girlfriend with a flower arrangement but had no idea where to start. You happily helped him pick out a selection, even wrote him a little care guide.

It wasn’t just the passing soldiers, either.

Older women in town would stop by just to chat about your arrangements, some even bringing over cuttings from their own gardens. Parents would pause during walks, their children pointing excitedly at the bright flowers and fairy lights you had strung along the porch. The local baker started leaving small bags of cookies at your door with notes like, Your flowers made my morning brighter!

And then there was Task Force 141, as they’d eventually introduce themselves to you.

The first time you caught Captain John Price standing on your sidewalk, arms crossed as he stared at your house, you thought you were in trouble. He had the kind of presence that demanded respect- commanding, observant, the weight of experience in every movement.

“You lost?” you teased anyways, adjusting a pot of marigolds, and hoping he wouldn’t consider you disrespectful.

Price huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flicking between the vines, the flowers, the fairy lights. “No. Just… wasn’t expecting this.” He gestured vaguely at the floral explosion around you.

“Well,” you grinned. “I refuse to live somewhere that looks like a training camp. You are the soldiers, not me.”

That had been the start of it.

Soap was the next to visit. He showed up a few days later, leaning against your railing as he inspected a cluster of bright yellow sunflowers. “Got any of those that’ll survive my terrible luck?”

You hummed, then handed him a small, sturdy succulent. “Try not to kill it.”

Then came Gaz, who always claimed he was “just passing through” but somehow always found himself near your house. He asked questions- what flowers worked best for balconies? His mum has a love for tending to flowers as well. Did you have any recommendations for someone who had never taken care of a plant in his life?

Regardledd, you happily enjoyed chatting with him, and he left with a small potted fern, promising to send updates.

And then there was Ghost.

Ghost never exactly visited, but you saw him. Once, when you were rearranging your display and muttering about getting new soil, you spotted him standing across the street, arms folded as he observed your work. He didn’t say anything- just gave a barely perceptible nod before disappearing back into the shadows.

But the next morning, a heavy bag of high-quality soil rested against your porch steps. No note. No explanation.

But from what the others had told you of him… you knew who it was from.

The townsfolk had opinions about that, too.

“That group’s been sniffing around your place an awful lot,” Mrs. Holloway, the town baker, noted one morning as she handed you a fresh loaf of bread. “You got yourself a security detail, dear?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think they just like the flowers.”

The butcher, a gruff man who had lived in the town longer than anyone, grunted in agreement. “Good. Those boys need something nice to look at.”

Even the local barista took notice. “Gaz came in the other day asking if we had any floral-themed drinks,” she giggled, leaning in close to you. “I swear, he’s trying to impress you.”

Ultimately, the town adored what you were doing. Where once there had been dull uniformity, now there was life. People started adding their own touches- small flower pots, window boxes, even a few hanging baskets inspired by yours. The air felt lighter, more welcoming.

And the 141?

They had seen the worst the world had to offer. They had fought in places where beauty was a distant memory, where survival took precedence over everything else.

Yet, somehow, you- sunshine incarnate, with dirt-streaked hands and a smile that could brighten even the darkest day- had managed to burrow into their hardened hearts.