𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚! 📸✨

(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.

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) >

Eventually Together // Vander x Reader

Request:    Ooooo, Benzo tells Vander “If you don’t make a move on Reader, I will.” Vander can’t tell if he is bluffing or not lol. + I love the idea of the kids picking on Vander cuz he has a crush on reader. Maybe even does the “Why are you acting weird?” While reader is at the bar. “Oooooooo Vander likes her.” Ugh so cute.

Requested by: ​Anon, and Anon

Summary: One slowburn fic, mostly detailing the actions of Vander’s family upon discovering he has fallen for you. 

Warnings: None, I don’t think

Words: 10.4K

Notes:  This is the longest thing I have ever written. It’s somewhat a slowburn. Enjoy. My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif 

Like most days during the week, business at The Last Drop had been somewhat slow – steady but slow. It had been enough to bring in profit to pay the bills and clear the ledgers, but it hadn’t been enough to keep Vander’s mind occupied. His mind kept wandering away from the tasks had been provided with by his patrons, and to you. A mysterious new face that had started appearing more and more frequently amongst the faces of more regular patrons, not that he would complain about that. You were a nice sight – especially when he was having a rough evening. In some ways, you calmed him – your mere sight alone just made him… Relax. He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain the effect, or the warmth that spread through his chest when you came up to order drinks, the smile that started to occupy his face more and more as your number of interactions increased. You had been coming for something near three weeks now, almost every other day. Vander knew that your primary reason for visiting the establishment was for drinks, business or both, like everybody else, but part of him wanted to believe that it was for him, too, for his brief amount of company. Though the rational side of him tried to dismiss this – there was little point in trying to give hope to someone like him, when there was none. There was no need to disturb the status quo, or to change things from the way they were. Though, Vander supposed, in some senses, he was lonely. Of course he had his four children, and they could indeed keep him company through long and restless nights, by distracting one another by talk of imaginary chases or dreams – but as much as Vander adored spending time with his children, there were other areas of his life that had sat long neglected, almost forgotten. Parts that, he vaguely hoped, you would be able to help him tend to – if he were able to strike up any kind of conversation with you.

Keep reading

I think it's hilarious that Michael Keaton basically tried to make Beetlejuice a dad bod sad meow meow mess in the second movie yet all it did was produce an even more feral group of us freaks pining after him

It's Us Who Made This Mess

Part Three, at last; the bitch that didn't allow me to have any good ideas for a week straight only to suddenly give me a burst of inspiration so strong that I managed to write this whole thing within one sitting. So if that's why this is the worst one, I apologize if that is the case lmao.

Content Warnings: It's the alleyway scene, so Vere jokes about eating you. Canon-typical swearing and mentions of death. Vere has a panic attack and there is a very, very brief implication of accidental self-harm.

Other: And the overuse of italics returns! Word Count: 2k

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 streets behind the Wick were as dead as the bar was crowded. A cold breeze cut through the humid air. The further they walked, the more muffled the Wick's racket became, until the only sounds were their subtle breaths and footsteps.

He stopped at an alleyway. They were alone. Nobody would bother them; nobody would play witness. His shadow stretched over the cobbled street in the moonlight, practically devouring the outsider whole.

"You had questions. Ask." His breath misted in the cold air as he spoke, "Quickly. I've got a show to attend. Heavenly lutist, as I'm sure I mentioned."

He already knew for a fact that he did. He simply wanted to test them; to see if they ignored everything he said earlier or is they only ignored his warning.

They were clearly peeved by his attitude---they had been since he met them, actually. But clearly they needed information, and he was happy to provide some. Of course, it would only be vague details, but if all went according to plan, it would be enough to bait them into telling him a secret or two of their own.

He expected the outsider to ask about the Senobium. Or about him, at least. Instead, they wasted his precious time by asking about the others. As much as he disliked thinking about most them---other than Ais, that is---in general, something about the outsider's curiosity of them had him particularly irked.

Vere didn't want to look too closely into why their interest in the others pissed him off so much. He just told himself that it was because he was in a hurry, and they were wasting his time.

It didn't take long for him to grow bored of it, letting out a growl. "Don't you dare ask me about another soul. I haven't got all night for idle gossip."

"But I wasn't finished asking---"

"You get two more questions. Make them count."

He wasn't actually planning on counting any questions. The poor thing just happened to look somewhat cute when their brows scrunched up in frustration.

Their eyes narrowed slightly, exasperated, as they asked their first question "Leander told me that the Senobium imprisons people. Did he mean you?"

Of course, he gets stuck talking about Leander anyway. "Leander's a moaning fool with a throbbing victim complex. He loves to see himself as a savior, but the only difference his cronies and the Senobium's stooges are the uniforms."

A subtle wince spread over their features, showing some mild concern at his words. Fair enough, considering where they're apparently sleeping tonight---if they make it out of the alleyway alive, that is.

"You're asking who, when you should be asking why." Maybe that will be enough o a hint for them to actually ask about him directly.

"Says the asshole counting my questions." Their scowl returned to to their face.

Vere only smirked in response, and they rolled their eyes at him.

They sighed. "Fine. Why were you imprisoned?"

"For the same reason they'll disappear you given half the chance; I'm something special." He gathered up his hair, pushing it behind his back and craned his neck, inviting them to have a closer look. "See this collar?Looks unremarkable, doesn't it?"

They didn't say anything. Instead, they started reaching towards the buckle.

Wrong move.

His hand lashed out, grabbing their wrist before their hand could get too close. He could've easily snapped their bones, but he chose to be merciful, and instead only held their wrist with just enough pressure to scare them a little.

It was the second mercy he's granted them tonight. And not matter how interesting they were, he wouldn't be granting them a third chance. Really, they were lucky he was even generous enough to offer them the second.

He tutted like a scolding teacher. "Don't you know better than to touch without asking?"

"You didn't ask first, so why should I?"

He grins. "because I said so."

"That's not very fair."

A surge of anger began to slowly rise through him at that. "Fuck fairness. Life's not fair."

If life were, he wouldn't even be here, talking with the pesky little outsider. If life was fair, he wouldn't even be Eridia. Shit, Eridia probably wouldn't have even existed. If life were fair, then he wouldn't have been imprisoned by those fucking mages. If life were fair, he wouldn't have killed you that day. If life were fair, you would've died from either old age or some incurable illness, because he would've been able to protect you from an unnatural death.

He closed his eyes, silently pushing his rage to the back of his mind. He's had years to hone and sharpen it into a weapon deadlier than he was, and it wouldn't do him any good to waste it on one, insignificant human when there were plenty others more deserving of it.

"Patience… I'll tell you when and how you can touch me." He opened his, staring into their startled ones, getting another view of the agony writhing around their soul. "Behave, or I'll make you bleed."

"…Is that a threat, or a promise?"

It was both, but he didn't say that out loud as he released their wrist. They began to smooth down the bandages covering their arm, glancing at him though the corner of their eye.

"Are you saying that's what'll happen to me if the Senobium finds out I'm… different? I'll be collared?"

"Doubtful. they keep me around because I'm the best at what I do."

They were looking him straight in the eye now. "And what, exactly, do you do so well?"

His answer wasn't hesitant in the slightest. "Killing. As long as I wear this collar, I'm made to hunt the Senobium's dizzying array of enemies: Monsters, Soulless, noisy dissidents who grow overbold… I'm bound by their will until the day I die."

He liked to pretend that he was only saying that last bit for dramatic flair. He didn't like to acknowledge just how little hope he had in any chance of freedom.

"That's… awful."

Hah. They have no idea.

"It is, isn't it?" He internally shook off his brooding mood, "And that's all you're getting from me. I really must leave now. I'll be late."

"That's it? Why'd you bring me out here if you weren't going to explain anything?!"

He laughed, allowing it to sound a bit more like his genuine laughter as opposed to the smooth chuckle he's been practicing over the years. "Isn't it obvious? I wanted to lure you out here alone so I could eat you."

They tensed up immediately. "You're lying again."

They were only half-right. Less that that, really. There's been a pit of hunger that's been growing within him since he was captured, and flesh was usually one of the best ways to sate it, even temporarily.

"And you're asking far too many questions for hiding so much."

They quickly hid their hands deep into the pockets of their cloak. "What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"

"Would you like me to list the obvious indicators first?" He asked sarcastically, staring pointedly at their arms, "The bandages, to be specific. Not exactly subtle, after all." He glanced back up at their eyes, "I'll be going… unless you're willing to share some morsels with me?"

As much as he talked about wanting to be elsewhere, he really wasn't actually planning on leaving until he got something out of them.

They hesitated. "I can't tell you anything."

He felt his ears flatten on his head. For fuck's sake. "Wrong. You can start with what you are."

They step backwards, trying to get away from them, bumping into the wall behind them. Vere moves forward in lockstep. They try to turn, but instead of a way out, they only find his arm, trapping them against the wall.

Finally, they were right where he wanted them.

He reached for them, lifting their chin and forcing them to meet his eyes.

"Would you believe me if I said the eyes are the windows to the soul?" Their eyelid twitched, and he smiled, "Cliche, I know, but let me tell you a little secret..."

He leaned in, close enough for his eyelashes to flutter against their cheek.

"There's nothing you can hide from me."

He was staring straight into their eyes now. Straight into them. Straight into the sweet, agonizing suffering that wrapped around their soul the way a ribbon wrapped around a box of chocolates.

"The betrayal, the loss of hope, the sheer desperation that drives you still to search and search to no end…"

All that from which he listed only came from the more recent suffering they've endured. It was almost like a thick shield, hiding both the true nature of their soul and the strange, seemingly ancient suffering that seemed to be latched deeper in.

"I could give you something new to live for…"

It was a dangerous promise, but it wasn't like they could do anything to force him into keeping it.

They swallowed, skeptical and afraid. He didn't mind their lack of response; it only allowed him to focus on looking deeper.

The ancient strand of suffering was particularly enticing; like nothing he's ever seen before. He could practically feel it trying to pull him closer.

"All that suffering has made your soul so irresistible…"

He searched deeper through the wall of suffering, just trying to catch a better glance at what was being hidden behind all the betrayal.

Then, at last---

A chain-leash clinking as he was escorted through the dim, dank hallway.

A door hinge creaked as a cell was opened, revealing a familiar figure chained to the far wall.

An order to kill.

The sounds of screaming and bones snapping and flesh ripping.

The sound of someone's last breaths

--- he had his answer.

He was wrong. This strange, ancient suffering; ancient betrayal… he had seen it before.

He saw it in your eyes as you died in a puddle of your own blood that day.

His blood froze. His heart started to speed up. The fur on his tail began to stick up.

No. No, no. Nonononono---

"Y-You're late… the l-lutist!"

Their---your---panicked little reminder was enough for him to snap out of it.

He blinked, desperately attempting to recompose himself before you noticed anything was off. "Shame."

He let go of your chin and backed away. You slumped against the wall, now gasping for air.

He would only hope he didn't look the same way; frightened, panicked, as if his fight-or-flight response just kicked in…

He wracked his brain, trying desperately to find something to say or do that wouldn't give him or any of his emotions away; then he heard Leander' voice, calling out your name, echoing through the empty streets.

Once he noticed that it grabbed your attention, he quietly made his way to the shadowy back end of the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows before you could even blink.

-=-=-=-=-=-

He didn't run for too long; he knew the city well enough to find somewhere both decently distanced from the alleyway and hidden enough for it to be unlikely for someone to stumble on.

He found himself behind a bakery, trembling; his heart pounding so loud he was almost afraid that the stray cat sleeping in the gutters above him was able to hear it. Chills raced through his blood. His chest heaved from lack of air, but his lungs refused to let any more in. He felt dizzy, and had to slump down to the muddy ground in order to avoid falling over.

He hated this feeling. He could only recall feeling it twice: the first being after he killed you, and the second being when a century had passed without there being even half of a solid chance of real freedom.

Even though he didn't get the feeling often, he still hated it. The fear. The loss of control. The weakness…

He needed to get his shit together. Preferably before his claws accidentally dug deep enough into his arms and drew blood again, since it was too late to stop before he could feel the tears forming.

But no matter how he tried to aim his thoughts into a different direction, they always circled back to you.

You're here.

You're not supposed to be here.

You're here.

You're not supposed to see him like this.

You're here.

You can't be here.

You're here.

You need to get away, they're going to take you again.

You're here.

You need to get away, they're going to make him kill you again.

A trembling, almost manic laughter broke through his teeth, accompanied by breathless sobs.

In the beginning, he wanted nothing more than to see you again. But as time passed, he was happier that he hadn't been able to see you; that you couldn't see him in the state he was in. Nothing more than a particularly exotic and useful pet for some bastards who were too afraid of getting their own hands dirty.

He never did manage to figure out why it was you they ordered him to kill that day; if it was mere coincidence, or if it was intentional.

And if it was intentional, did they already know you were here? Were they already planning to grab you?

He growled involuntarily at the thought; both at the image of them keeping you locked in a cage for them to do as they pleased, and at the fact that he would be powerless to stop it.

And the worst part of it all? For whatever reason, you were apparently planning of walking right into their cruel, merciless hands; desperately searching for something that, apparently, nobody else in this damned city would be able to provide.

Amongst the chaos whirling through his head, he tried to find a solution to your being here:

He could ignore you completely, but somehow he felt like that wouldn't work.

He could try to free himself again, take revenge, and try to fix what he had done to you; heal that betrayal-inflicted wound that he apparently dealt so deep that it still stuck to your soul well over a century and who-knows how many lives later.

He could try to free himself again, take revenge, and then leave you, so that he'd never have to risk hurting you again, and you wouldn't make him weak again.

Or, he could try to free himself again, take revenge, and then devour your soul so that you'd never get to live another life ever again. It would be cruel, sure, and it would probably hurt, too. But somehow, it might just be the most merciful option for both of you…

He focused on these ideas until, finally, he felt his heart stop hammering and his lungs start to take in the appropriate amount of air. He was no longer trembling, though he felt his nerves vibrating as he made himself stand.

He felt restless and his head hurt. He needed to tear into something---into someone---before he made his way back to his dungeon for the night.

He was irritated by the mud clinging to his clothes, hist tail, his hand, and now his face as he wiped the tears from his eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to care about that.

The only thing he could care about right then was his potential plans.

He had no idea what he should do. But he swore to himself that he'd make his choice by tomorrow morning.

For now, it was the best he could do.

< Part Two | Good Ending (WIP) > | Neutral Ending (WIP) > | Bad Ending (WIP) >

i am begging you all to stop treating this site like instagram if you dont want it to be content free by next year

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.

Fluttershy is my spirit animal 😩 <333

i had this idea a REALLY long time ago, i guess I'm glad i sat on it because now i'm way better at rigging than i used to be!

think im hyperventilating