#cannibal sprout au

[severalratstiedtogether]

forgot to post this last night

[sweettoothsprout]

:]

This is an AU Sprout rp blog ran by @severalratstiedtogether . DNI, boundaries, etc that apply there, apply here

Asks will be answered via text (most often), doodles, or a mix of the two.

Other characters may occasionally be avaliable for questions if you ask nicely, just remember this is a Sprout blog.

No sexual asks. Text gore is fine, it's part of the AU.

This blog is just for fun! It's nothing grand or serious. Lets play with our touys. Together

Sprout looks like this v

[ratzhatz14]

Btw, to everyone who sent me asks;

Just know that I am SLOW at answering some, since I get distracted faster than Toodles

But I WILL eventually answer EVERY ASK I HAVE ROTTING IN MY INBOX

For now, have a singular grain of art which most likely insulted the entire scenecore community and gave me hand-soreness

[girlfox]

WAIT NOW I'M CURIOUS sorry if this is such a random question. feel free to ignore ;w; but! which gifts would Ahri enjoy in a visual novel universe? i got SUPER curious, your last post was the cutest thing ever omg

+ in relation to this post.

okay this is the cutest question ever! and thinking of ahri as a romanceable character in a visual novel is just so perfect. ;w; also thank you for liking my original post hehe!

i think she has tiers of gifts, in which you obtain a mild response and a bit of recognition from her, a very pleased response for more recognition, and a flustered response that nets you a ton of affection. and of course gifts she would really hate to the point of reducing your progressing with her.

if you're just starting out romancing 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐊𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐇𝐎 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓, you may recognize that she is fond of nature and animals and flowers at a glance. and so, there's a good chance she'll enjoy gifts related to this. well, it's true! ahri does not enjoy grandiose gifts when your relationship is still from acquaintance to friend━━━it makes her feel awkward and pressured. while ahri normally enjoys vast expressions of love and materialism, when it comes from someone she doesn't know well, it feels more than a bit pushy or forced. ahri would certainly accept the gift, but you it'll negatively impact your progress with her. so, be mindful of her feelings when romancing the fox!

now, how do you begin?

at the start of your pursuit, ahri's ♡ ❛ MOST LIKED GIFTS ❜ include basic but meaningful items that show you've taken notice of her interests. this means something to her. you might try: a bouquet of flowers you personally picked ( flowers from another shop or her own will net you massively negative points; even if the bouquet is small or sparse, the intention matters ), a cup of warm floral tea, a spool of pretty ribbon, or fresh fish from the fishmonger.

as you earn her favor, you might become so bold as to offer the pretty fox her ♡ ❛ MOST LOVED GIFTS ❜ which can include: a pretty necklace or bracelet, a historical romance novel, a bottle of sweet wine, spicy noodles, or an expensive fox trinket found only from a particular vendor during a particular festival ( this one will go especially well with her ).

once you have fully romanced ahri, she begins to expect further displays of extravagance, whether that is material or simply as a show of affection. the fox loves deeply and passionately and deserves just the same in return. therefore, you may express yourself to her with ♡ ❛ AN OBJECT OF YOUR INFATUATION, ❜ an item that will lock in her feelings towards you once & for all, signifying your newfound bond. although it may take some time and effort to acquire, it would be in your favor to seek out a highly rare and expensive plant called the 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋. it is a large, potted flower with massive, dainty leaves and a drooping pink-ish purple bloom with petals the shape of hearts. at night, it has a luminescent glow in it's center, like a jewel that attracts fireflies to flit all about it. its beauty is highly sought after, much like the fox herself.

in order to obtain this ever-lasting gift, one has two paths: at near-maximum affection, ahri will present you with a vial of shimmering water, claiming it to be the tears of mother nature herself. ( the item description is similarly vague, though one can sense old magic infused within ). after purchasing the rare and expensive seeds for this flower, you can nurture it with the water ahri has given you; to grow it with regular water will only result in failure, making this necessary. or, you can hunt down a breeder of this plant and purchase it yourself at an exorbitant price tag. special dialogue acknowledging your efforts will ensue if you go for the option to grow it.

Ahri stares down at the potted flower in her hands, surprise written across a particularly flushed face. It takes her a moment to collect herself, but eventually she looks back to you, breath hitching and water welling within her eyes. ❛ You've grown this for me? I see ... ❜ Ahri smiles softly at you. ❛ I can sense your feelings within it, and I ... I feel the same. Will you promise to nurture me, too? ❜

now, it's all too easy to hand out the wrong gifts when you're still getting to know your chosen bachelorette . . . it is in your best interest to be wary of the following, 'lest you negatively impact your relationship with ahri: coffee, strong liquor, and modern tech gadgets. ( while she is certainly not opposed to it in daily life and uses it herself, it's clearly not something she engages with frequently so gifting it feels as if you've paid little attention to her interests )

lastly, there is a ♡ ❛ SECRET ENDING GIFT ❜ ! although ahri will not make this aspect of herself known without prompting and absolute trust at maximum hearts, she does drop subtle, unintentional hints at times and small clues can be found around her shop & abode of her status as a man-eating fox i.e. smudges of blood, bloodied knives, odd smells late at night, strange reactions to you when you're physically close & have high relationship points. if you wish to engage this part of her, you must take a highly dark turn during your journey and kill a man for her sake. you have one opportunity to do so at near-maximum relationship points, when an intoxicated customer lingers around at night and engages you violently just outside of the shop in an alley. then, you must carve out his most vital organ and present ahri with a 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌, 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 as your mental fortitude begins to spiral from the reality of the act, becoming consumed by the frenzy of your love for her. in this ending, you offer your eternal devotion to the fox both emotionally and physically, becoming a font of blood and soul whether that is your own or by luring in sacrificial lambs for her time and time again.

[severalratstiedtogether]

rlly quick doodle but. theres Two Of Them. put your cosmos on a really high shelf they cant reach

Drew stuff for @severalratstiedtogether 's cannibalistic Sprout (au?) . I think the concepts fun!

Heres sprout eating and healing cosmo so he has an endless supply of meat idk . And then trying to eat Dandy (who has infinite health in game. Not a great idea!)

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part nineteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

The cool paste feels tingly on your skin as you rub it against your bruised stomach, wincing. Christ. Maybe Ghost was right to think he might break you. Beneath the mottled patchwork, another kind of pain stirs— your muscles are growing. Firm and tight. The only soft parts of you left are your breasts and your ass. Gently applying the paste to a nasty purple one on your left cheek, you curiously pinch the sore flesh between your fingers. Scratch that. Even your ass is firming up. 

Arnica has healing properties. Yesterday, you found a patch of it with Blue and created a salve with some water. You already applied some last night before bed. Whether or not it’s helping probably doesn't mean much when new ones are about to be added; still, the placebo effect brings some comfort.

You're still massaging your backside when the bathroom door groans beneath a heavy fist. 

"Hurry up. Grab your bow."

“Shit.” You startle, almost dropping the salve. "Uh, coming.”

Chucking on a clean shirt and your old pair of jeans, you pad out of the bathroom, ignoring the cry of your joints. Ghost is outside waiting for you. Wait— bow? Confusion delivers an uptick to your pulse; you never bring your bow to train.

“What’s going on?”

"The air," he replies in a flat tone.

The stale smell offers enough explanation. You cringe. "Should we split up?"

He shakes his head and nods towards the direction the gentle breeze is rolling in. "No need. It's coming from this way."

In the violet wash of morning, you trail beside him over tall grasses and scattered groundhog burrows as the air leads the way, luring you opposite the clearing where you train. There haven't been any Greys since the one you burned together. For the past few weeks, you'd almost forgotten about their existence— a pleasant naivety for once. 

Neither of you bothers with much small talk. He asks if you're sore, probably noticing how stiff you are, and you answer honestly. That's it.

You keep your attention strictly on the wood bow molded into your palm and the slight rustling of leaves all around you, scanning for signs of anything astray. You don't look at Ghost, even when you feel his eyes flicker to the side of your head. Staring at him for even a second longer than necessary rouses something in your gut that was once easy to label as fear; now you don't know what to call it.

He is wearing thicker clothes today, the intimidating vest stocked with ammo glued to his chest. You'd gotten used to his more casual wardrobe of gym shorts and hoodies. They make him look... softer, almost. A little less like a death omen. Though, you sincerely doubt there are any soft parts of Ghost left under all that gear, given the rigid planes you felt beneath your hands when you—

"There."

You snap your gaze in the direction Ghost is pointing at.

At first, you don't see anything.

Then, squinting, you make out a red color far too metallic to naturally sprout among the conifers. 

An arrow is urgently slotted on the bowstring as the two of you head towards it, your brows tightly knitted. You've been this way a few times and never saw a— is that a red car?— before. Closing in, your suspicions are confirmed when a stroke of sunlight bounces off the metal bumper. The patchy sedan is tucked within a bush, tail-end sticking out, with half-flat tires resting on corroded rims. Shadows of movement dance behind the tinted windows, too disjointed to be natural.

"What the fuck?" you mutter under your breath, boots scuffing over a long-faded gravel pathway that is now shrouded in weeds. The car must've been following it before winding up in the bush— the occupants no longer human enough to drive.

"They... they must have just turned while they were driving," you think aloud. "When did this even get here?"

"Maybe during the night," Ghost mutters.

He paces forward and swings open the passenger door. A string of moans is released as a Grey lurches within the confinements of the seatbelt, but he quickly silences it with a bullet to the forehead, causing it to flop sideways out of the car. Maybe just a day ago, it was a young man. His hair is fully intact and he's wearing a blue shirt with the Chelsea Football Club logo on the back.

"I wonder why they were driving this way to begin with," you say quietly, stomach rolling.

In the driver's seat is the slumped-over corpse of an older man, having died from so many bite wounds before the infection could take hold. The early stages of decomposition smell almost worse than the infection and you have to breathe through your mouth as you head for the back door. 

"There's another here I think."

You're ready to shoot and put whoever it once was out of their misery when you pry open the door, but the sight of a small body wriggling around makes you freeze. Curled up against the faded leather is an infected boy, no older than eight or nine. His eyes are all white except for the outer rim where a few vessels are still filled with red blood. Your fingertips dig fiercely into the frame of the door as you stare down at him; his soft brown hair, his small hands, his Minecraft shirt. He whimpers and tries to claw at you, mouth hung open in mindless hunger.

The feeling that washes over you is hot and cold at the same time. It's not the first or last time you've seen an infected child, so you don't know why the sight traps you for a few heartbeats.

A voice emerges beside you. "It's not a kid anymore."

You almost forgot Ghost was there. Your teeth clench. "Yeah, I know."

You feel his eyes burning into you. Your fingers tighten and untighten around the arrow's stem as you aim. 

"Hone it, Twix— the anger."

The tension in your jaw releases at the same time as your arrow snaps forward, cutting through the boy's skull and driving his limp body down to the car floor.

“You good?”

You forcefully swallow and look away, giving Ghost a short nod. "Guess that's all of them."

He slowly nods in agreement, studying you, but all he says is, "For now."

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

“Seen stranger things over the years,” he says. “It seems like they were headed somewhere, maybe needed a new place to settle, and one of them got bit. Infected the others.”

You nod, thinking it over. “What about the car?"

"No fuel left, so it's pretty useless." Rifle still in his grip, he moves around to the hood and props it open. "Might have some parts I can use, though."

While he scavenges for gears that aren't rusted beyond functionality, you take a look at their belongings. There is an empty bottle of whiskey in the cupholder. In the boy's lap is a stuffed tiger that you assume was once white, but now it's a worn of grey. You carefully shift his corpse and take it.

"I have a friend who might be able to care of this for you."

In the trunk, at least, you find some tripwire. 

Dragging the two adult bodies back to the trench for burning is your 'strength' training for the day. Since they haven't decomposed much yet, they're heavy; you go back and forth, taking one at a time. Ghost carries the small one over his shoulder. After the flames snuff out the smell of rot, he relieves you, claiming he has other shit to take care of—more traps to set with the newfound tripwire.

"Hey. Would you like this?" you ask Blue when she's up, handing her the tiger. 

"I'm kinda too old for dolls, Twix." She must see the expression on your face because she shakes her head and disappears into her room for a minute before coming out with a teddy bear. "My mom gave me this one when I was a baby and it just sits on my bed by itself, but now it can have a friend."

You smile and nod. "Yeah, okay."

The day is spent playing board games with her. When she notices how sore you are, she offers an exclusive massage from Grim, who hops over your back and legs as you relax face-down on the couch. However, even with the honorary treatment, the aching lingers. 

"Auntie, I'm over here!"

In a violet-tinted field, you search for the voice.

It's barren and hazy, with no hard edges or places for a little boy to hide; so why is it so hard to find him? You call his name. You wander around, aimless, until you catch a familiar whiff of baked cinnamon and fresh laundry. This way. He's this way. You start running fervently. When a small hand tugs at yours, you whip around and try to grab him, but the soft touch dissolves through your fingers like ash. 

When you wake up, there's a hand on your back and blood on your tongue, evidence that you'd bitten through it during your sleep. The taste is quickly replaced with bile as you launch up, grabbing the sleeve of someone's shirt.

"Oh no, you don't."

The hand moves to your hair, wrapping it around in a fistful before forcing your head to tilt down. A bucket is tucked beneath your chin. You vomit into it, the cool metal rim hissing against your fingertips. Again and again. When it's all out, your throat feels like sandpaper. 

"Done?"

The dark room surrounds you; the perfect place to hide what you know must be a ghastly look on your face. Awareness creeps in, and you're not thrilled by the fact that you've thrown up in front of him twice now. Without looking up at the white skull you know is there, you nod.

Wordlessly, he takes out a cigarette and lighter. You hear a deep inhale. See the dull glow of the flame. Then, he passes it to you and leaves.

"You look like shit today."

You can't even be offended, fully aware of the purple painted beneath your eyes. One look at you quirks his brow up in that annoying mannerism of his.

You offer a tight-lipped simper, mumbling. "At least I can always count on you for brutal honesty."

"Good trait to look for in an ally." He throws the gauze at you and you begin wrapping up. "I don't suppose it has anything to do with the fact you nearly ruined another shirt of mine last night."

You tie off the gauze and glance up. "Look, I'm s—" you stop yourself, "I mean, I'm not sorry, because you wanted my box open so now it's open. You already knew the potential consequences."

"Try opening it without emptying your stomach next time."

You flash him a look. "I think I miss when you pretended I didn't exist."

"And I miss getting a full night of sleep."

"Can we just get started? I'm ready."

Ghost keeps his eyes on you as he motions a fisted hand. "As you wish."

When the familiar dance begins, and adrenaline ripples up your spine, you realize that you missed this yesterday. The rest felt good, but this— the thrill of seeing Ghost start to get as worked up as you, the sweat stains on his shirt matching your own... it is something you itch for these days. 

You get a few hits in that have your ego swelling. But then— the rough night catches up with you after half an hour of wordless sparring. Your breathing grows labored, while his is barely winded.

"Tired yet?" he asks.

"No," you say, but he calls you out immediately.

"You're a terrible liar," he reminds you. A few more swings have your lungs burning as you dodge until one finally catches up with you, and whatever healing your homemade salve has done is erased by a fresh layer of pain. 

As you clutch your side, he changes the subject. "Are you going to tell me what it was about then?"

"What what was about?"

"Whatever was making you whimper in your sleep."

Your face twists. "I wasn't 'whimpering'."

"Fine, then. Crying," he corrects plainly.

You sigh through your nose, averting your gaze only for a moment, then focusing back on him before he can strike you again. His words hang in the air, ignored, as you jab an elbow toward his ribs. He grabs you by the knob of it and pulls you unnecessarily close to his chest. When you try to wriggle free by placing a hand on his chest, he fists your hair, which has slipped out of a bun into a haphazard ponytail, and tugs hard enough to force your eyes up to his.

His gaze is demanding but his voice is light— a mere breath over your forehead. "Tell me why someone who has seen plenty of infected kids by now seemed so bothered by the one she saw yesterday. He reminded you of someone, didn't he?"

The mention of it makes you snap. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Trying to act like you know anything about me."

"I know enough. You are easy to read."

So that feeling you get when he looks at you isn't just in your head; he truly can see through. Your nails dig into your palm. "There's no need to read me. We're not friends. We're just... allies, or whatever."

"Or whatever," he repeats thoughtfully, tasting the words. "You talk like a teenager."

"Compared to you I might as well be," you retort.

"Jesus." He chuffs out an exhale, eyes flickering down for a moment before returning up to yours, narrowing. "Let's not change the subject here." 

"Fine. Take this stupid Halloween mask off," you lift the hand on his chest up to the hem of his balaclava, feeling how weighted the fabric is with sweat. "And I will tell you all about it."

His jaw flexes before he gently guides your hand away. "Tempting offer, but I'll pass."

You refuse to acknowledge the tinge of embarrassment at his dismissal and inch back as far as the hand on your hair will allow. The close proximity, or harsh sun, is making it hard to breathe. "Well, it's not fair for you to ask me shit about my life when you don't even let me see your face."

"I never claimed to be fair." 

"I promise I won't vomit no matter how ugly you are. I've seen worse things out here."

His hand tightens. "I think I miss when you were scared of me. Less mouthy back then."

"Well, I'm not anymore."

"No?" He flips you around so your back is against him, one hand settling on the toned curve of your hip. His voice lowers to your ear. "Maybe I need to fix that."

An unwelcomed shiver courses through you. He lets go. A wristbone nudges against your spine, shoving you forward. Irritation simmers in your veins when his remark finally registers, and you whirl around, readying your stance. 

"If you even think about threatening me after I explicitly asked you not to, then I would suggest sleeping with a knife tonight."

"Who's threatening who, Twix?" He gives a low chuckle. "Relax. I'm sure I could handle you in my sleep, anyway."

He's egging you on; you know it. And yet, you stubbornly take the bait. His knee— the right one. That's where you got him last time that made him falter. Maybe an old injury. But when you swing a boot at it, he expects your attempt, knocking you away by the ankle. 

"Ah. Eager to get me beneath you again?"

Pink sears your cheeks as you wipe a trickle of sweat from your forehead. "I'm eager to humble you for once."

"Might need to keep your dinner down to do that."

You grit your teeth. So maybe he did allow it last time. The realization darts your eyes to his wide stance, searching for an idea. Without second-guessing yourself, you kick at the other knee. He must find your second attempt amusing because he easily predicts it, but before he can catch your leg, you snap it back and drop yourself to the ground.

The brief distraction allows the second of time needed to fit yourself between his legs. You're slim enough to push through, kicking at the inside of both knees once you're on the other side. His legs buckle, and you reach up to pull his arm, finishing the job.

Once he's down, you scramble to get on top, not caring if your boot kicks his face in the process. You grab both of his wrists and bring them above his head, but it's impossible to wrap your fingers all the way around them. Instead, you lace them through his fingers, breathing hard in his face as your breasts meld against the solid heat of him.

"Did you allow that?" 

His voice is rougher than you've ever heard it. "No."

Your lips furl. "Good."

A dark gleam passes through his dilated pupils that makes your head fuzzy. You let go of his hands. Immediately, they gravitate to your hips again, thumbs fiercely pressing into the sliver of skin exposed from where your shirt rides up. You don't move even an inch, frozen in place as you stare down at where he grips you against him. That feeling in your gut deepens and spreads. It is hard to pinpoint—so insane and foreign yet familiar at the same time—but one thing is certain: it begins and ends where his rough skin touches yours.

Before you can figure anything else out, a scream shatters the air, and Ghost rips you off of him in one swift movement. 

[defectedrockstar]

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss AU

Opening this up for discussion and ideas. Since the RWBY one got so much attraction, why not see what another AU that is so musically inclined like Hi-Fi Rush?

Hence, Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss. Though it might be more learning towards Hazbin, at least with what I can think of. It's a simple concept and I only got Chai in it, so feel free to send questions about this crossover after the read more.

What if Chai’s surgery mishap did more than just give him cool music robot powers? What if he had died and woke up in hell? Now Chai needs to figure out this new life of his while also trying not to get killed by either cannibals, murders, and of course angels.

His appearance has changed. His clothing is darker, with the star on his shirt shattered, black jacket, hist left eye having a lightning bolt scar over it, and his eyes went from a brown color to a amber one. His skin is the same, if not paler. When he goes berserk, his skin goes yellow with black lightning patterns coursing through his body, his horns sprouting out and forming around his head like a crown, and sporting demonic wings. In terms of powers, it is the same as canon except with the added demonic traits.

[fushipurro]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 5 - Journey's End...?

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, suggestive in satoru and sukuna's part, implied murder, mentions of pregnancy/childbirth in toji’s, gangs, brief mention of gunplay in satoru’s part, description of gore and cannibalism in satoru’s and sukuna’s

☆ Word Count: 7k

As heartwarming as it was reuniting Kento with Clementine, the same could be said for your own reunion.

On your first night in Blackwater, Kento treated you to dinner at one of the classiest restaurants in town. There, he had eagerly listened to the events that followed his departure ─ from Valentine’s rescue to the massacre of an entire game. With you, he quickly learned that there is no end to the surprises in store.

Your life is one out of a story ─ an odyssey, and you chose him to enjoy the ride with.

You stayed with him in his hotel room for some time, savoring the mix of fine dining and high-stakes gambling located conveniently downstairs. During the day, Kento would be away at work, leaving you to bide your time. But once the sun sets, you two take the town by storm, whether that meant with cards, chips, or a dual in the streets. On some nights, or many, your fun was kept to the sheets instead, clinging to each other’s form.

Occasionally, the two of you would ride horseback instead of train, making memories through evening gallops in the prairie, or taking scenic trails to wherever his work needed him to be. He excelled at his job, simply because he knew how best to help others ─ it’s what he’s good at. But at a certain point, he began realizing where his priorities needed to be, and what he wanted in life more than anything.

That’s how you ended up with a ring on your finger, because Kento wanted you.

After a night of poker where the stakes were especially high, Kento came out with a large sum of money. It was enough to push him into finally quitting his job, and using those funds to purchase a farmhouse along that same prairie stretch you often rode across. Between banking and farming, the answer was clear, as farming allowed him to continue with doing what he’s good at, while also being closer to home and subsequently you.

The property needed a barn which was no sooner constructed after moving in. Acres of fencing seemed to sprout up overnight, all for whatever animals you two would go on to have, and a dozen more for the joint business you created for yourselves.

Kento spends most of his days out in those fields, tending to his ever-growing abundance of crops. You on the other hand have taken to the barn, working day and night to care for your animals, as well as your newfound business in horse training. Some days, when the cattle need to be moved, you two pack a picnic to enjoy out with the wildflowers as the herd circles around you. Those days are your favorite, since they’re all spent with him. Just the two of you, in your own stretch of the world, enjoying every little thing.

Life on the farm has been simple, quiet, and everything you’ve needed to sit back and enjoy the feeling of being alive without any need to rush. If you wish to stay as you are now, Kento would have no complaints; but if you ever choose to grow your family, then the space is there, and with an incredible husband-to-be at your side to walk down that path with you.

Like most evenings after a day of hard labor, the two of you currently are resting on a swinging bench that hangs from your front porch, all while admiring the picturesque view of your property and the prairie beyond. Kento has a book in one hand, the other idly drawing shapes into your shoulder as you rest your head over his lap. Your eyes are closed, savoring the gentle breeze in your hair, and the distant sound of your many animals.

“Darling?” Kento says to get your attention. You hum, a quiet request for him to continue. “What do you think about having our wedding ceremony in the summer?” he asks.

“We could get married right now if I’m being honest, but why summer?”

In truth, you know exactly the reason he’s making this request, but where’s the fun if you don’t tease him first?

You hear him close the book he’s reading before setting it down, replacing it with some homemade sun tea. As you turn your head slightly, you have the perfect view of the liquid disappearing, and the bobbing of adam’s apple with every sip, glistening with the evening light. That golden glow seems all his own, yet pales in comparison to that of his hair, eyes, and every freckle dotting his face.

“Weather, firstly,” he starts, clearing his throat after putting the glass back down on the table. “The rainy season will be here before we know it, and if we wait too long, I fear that with the harvest, we won’t have much time on our hands.”

That’s not all, you think to yourself. There’s one more detail he hasn’t explicitly stated yet, but one you know he wants to bring up. The wedding is big of a day to him as it is for you, only he’s willing to put aside his own feelings for your happiness. Not on your watch.

“And what’s stopping us from walking out into the yard and saying our vows now? Aren’t you excited to marry me, or is there something else?”The effects of your teasing are evident from the deep shade of red that comes over his face.

“I couldn’t be happier marrying the love of my life,” he refutes, sending color to your own cheeks when his honeyed eyes fall to yours along with that sweet smile of his. “I was however thinking of having it along the oceanside, but if you’re against that or waiting, I’ll gladly put my suit on now.”

And you know he would.

He even makes a move to get up from his spot, showing his determination to please you, to marry you. But you quickly stop him, forcing your weight down to keep him still.”

“I’m only teasin’, Kento,” you chuckle, fixing yourself back on his lap. “I know how much you love the beach, so I think it’s perfect. Consider the date set.”

“Thank you,” he breathes, happy you’re agreeing to his request. What’s waiting until summer, anyways? The way things are now, you may as well be Mr. and Mrs. Nanami.

A sudden movement arises from the corner of your eye, enticing you to follow.

“Kento, look!” You hush shout at your fiancé, shooting up from his lap and pointing out into the prairie. “Bison!”

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and husky. You turn to him all excited, finding that his eyes are instead resting on you. “Isn’t that right, my darling wife?” He smiles.

Kento gently pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to keep you secure at his side. Your faces near, eyes brimming with desire.

“It sure is… husband.” You smile back, and let your lips meet in the middle. The thunderous sound of the herd echoes in the distance, pairing with the whinnies of your mares calling out to the world.

This life is beautiful, and all you could ever want, but only when you’re sharing it with him.

Back in Valentine, Satoru was eager as could be to see you again. His excitement evident by the silver star he brandished you with before you could so much as dismount properly from your mare.

With every quality you’ve shown thus far, he was more than ready to start chipping away at the bounty board with a reliable partner back at his side, until he learned of your recent escapade. That cocky sheriff exterior faded into a delicate side you never knew he had. As it turns out, he’s fiercely loyal and protective towards those he cares about ─ which also explains why after all these years he remains on good terms with Suguru.

You had to hold him back from marching into Tall Trees himself to get revenge for you, with or without any lawmen at his side to help. His eyes, so bright and full of life never looked as dark as they did at the sight of your bullet hole injury, but you managed to calm him and reassure that you and the Outlaw Killer had already done the unthinkable.

His emotions went from anger to dumbfounded, with hints of remembrance in his stare ─ something you later learned was due to Toji’s deep involvement with his life as the catalyst for the destruction of Limpany and Suguru’s fall from grace.

During your recovery, you also learned that Satoru comes from money. His family being one of the biggest in the oil game and railroading, and yet here he is, protecting the peace from a lower level. That money is still his to claim, and his to use to pay for anything you need in this time and in the future, whenever, and whatever the cost may be.

Shoko became one of your closest friends, going from the doctor next door to someone you trust to have your back no matter what happens in life. She’s often stepped in to pry Satoru away from his doting duties to ensure you’re able to get a proper rest in. In a way, he’s like a lap dog, begging for any attention you’ll spare. Attention you always so happily gave.

You didn’t need any of the fancy meals or the shopping sprees across town. All you ever needed was right here at your side, with or without a wallet in hand. The two of you loved riding along the Dakota River, shooting glass bottles in the woods, or curling up in each other’s embrace whenever you could.

Although rare, some days and nights were shared with Suguru again, under the falsehood of collecting the bounty on his head, only to get some head in return. The weapons involved in these reunions weren’t for violence, but instead acts of love, all for the thrill of it. And speaking of familiar faces… it didn’t take long before you noticed Sukuna’s ceasing to pop up.

His presence in Valentine became that of a mystery, his name merely a rumor now, designed to scare children back to their beds and drunkards out of the street. The butcher now running his stall is someone by the name of Uraume, who never fails to show their disdain in passing.

You didn’t have much time to think on his disappearance before a spree of killings stole your attention. Each crime scene the two of you visited told the same gruesome tale through the bodies strung up and their organs splayed out, keeping them bound to rocks or trees. And every time, their blood was smeared into a cryptic message ─ one you knew came from him.

By the time Satoru ordered the move on Sukuna’s forest home, the devastation was clear from a distance. The cabin you once shared an incredible night with now a pile of ash and rubble along the forest floor. Though for better or worse, his cellar workshop remained nearly intact.

Whatever the case, it seemed his time of hunting in Valentine had reached an end, or so you thought. New rumors had begun sprouting up from the heart of Saint Denis, rumors of some bloodsucking “vampire” who matches Sukuna’s description seen devouring the hearts of his victims.

As someone branding a silver star, you knew what would have to be done should you ever cross paths with him again, although that moment may come sooner than you think.

The morning light flickers between the curtains, casting its rays over your form, sitting buried beneath Satoru’s. Your hand finds its way to his hair, combing through the white strands with your nails. This action stirs him awake, a breathy sigh escaping his lips.

“Good morning, princess,” he starts with a yawn, his eyes fluttering open, revealing a gaze so gentle ─ so loving ─ that you can almost forget the turmoil running rampant in your mind. But as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes, he catches on to how it eluded you through the night. “You look terrible,” he quips. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t sleep.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes to try and throw off the inevitable conversation to be had. “Wow,” you drawl the word with a teasing touch. “You really know how to make a girl feel pretty.”

“You know what I mean,” Satoru chides, visibly pouting at your remark. He then lifts himself onto his elbows, pushing further up the bed until his lips can meet just under your eyes. “Did I not tell you enough last night how pretty you are?” he teases with a sly grin, though behind those crystalline eyes lie a deeper concern.

“Oh no, you did. I believe I remember you saying, ‘nothing compares to your beauty; you’re a goddess among humanity and no portrait could ever hope to paint you with everything I see and love about you.’”

“And I’m right, aren’t I?” Satoru chuckles, rolling off to your side. He reaches out, pulling you against his body. His arm, a shield from the world ─ his protection infinite. “So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

With a sigh, you let your eyes close, remembering all the things that have kept you up in the midnight hours, or rather, the people. Through everything, you’ve never felt as afraid as you are in this moment.

“I don’t know if I can do it, Satoru,” you tell him without any clarity on the ‘it’ in question, simply because he already knows what troubles you so. How could he not know?

Nevertheless, you continue, “I know what he’s doing is the work of a devil, but…”

“He’s still someone you liked,” Satoru finishes for you, the thought hurting more now that it’s out in the open.

You nod your head weakly, feeling a kiss against your temple ─ an affirmation.

“I get it,” he says, his thumb now smoothing over your skin. “I think it would be best if you stayed here, in Valentine.”

Astounded, you roll partway to face him, ready to open your mouth in protest before his words stop you in your tracks.

“Now I know I said before you’d be coming with, but this isn’t your burden to bear. Even if you wear the star now, your feelings still come first.”

“Satoru, I can’t let you go alone,” you claim, brows pinching in anguish.

“I won’t be alone,” he refutes. “I’ll have the other deputies and lawmen at my side, including the joint force in Saint Denis. I would feel better knowing you were here watching over everything, maybe throwing on that dress I got you for when I come back…?” At that, he pushes his nose into your neck, hands reaching up below the hem of your nightwear to tickle your sides.

With how often he calls his princess, Satoru simply had to dish out the funds needed for a dress straight out of a fairy tale novel.  He picked one adorned with colors resembling his eyes and some of your favorites. Jewels and an intricate hem from top to open. A dress he wants to see you in when you walk down the aisle and into his arms.

“You’ll be safe, right?” Your lowered voice another sign of your anxious state. “I better not hear about you getting reckless and hurt.”

Satoru laughs, a sweet sound the contrasts the way he holds you just a little bit tighter.

“Who do you think I am? I’m the sheriff after all,” he tells you, his words as confident as he was the day you met him. “Besides, we both know Shoko would have my ass in the dirt if I came home with another big injury after that last time.”

As the morning sun looms higher through the curtain, it becomes a bitter reminder of the dwindling time left together before he leaves on his biggest job to date.

“I love you, Satoru.” You take his hand, placing it close to your heart, hoping he feels how it beats only for him. “Come back to me and I’ll have on any dress you throw at my feet, ring or no ring.”

“You know I will, princess.” He kisses the crown of your head. “I’ll make sure you have the biggest dress, and the most expensive ring money can buy.” Another kiss, one filled with absolution. “And I love you too, forever and always.”

Following the map Suguru had given you, you were able to find his camp with ease, and were welcomed with open arms.

Well, from a few of them, at least.

Some of Suguru’s closest confidants were weary of you at first, and for good reason. They first recognized you as the Valentine showstopper who fired back without mercy in the midst of their robbery and grand theft equine. And here you are now, strolling into the heart of their camp with Suguru’s arm draped around you. Just who do you think you are?

They made their lack of trust apparent, never bothering to hush their voices when openly complaining. The worst of which came from a scrawny fella named Mahito, as he was always vying for Suguru’s attention and praise. Not to mention the other woman, Manami, who would stick to your outlaw like she was his own holster. A bunch of fools, you’d call them. Fools who in time will be akin to that of your own flesh and blood.

Regardless of it all, you knew where you stood. Something Suguru reminded you of whenever he could. After a few train robberies and drunken brawls, you went from being the stray that wandered in to Suguru’s girl.

To some others however… you were a mother.

Nanako and Mimiko ─ the children Suguru had rescued from that atrocious cell in Limpany the day his star dimmed to a void. They were incredibly shy with you at first, always hiding behind Suguru or cramming themselves in the back of his tent. He was their safety net, their savior, and most importantly ─ their father, blood or not.

You cried the first time those twins called you their mother; the memory of that day quickly became one of your favorites to date.

The camp itself never stayed in one spot for too long, and at times it felt as though you had traveled the world before settling in one place before carrying on with the next big heist. Your newfound notoriety began drawing attention across the frontier, specifically from the Outlaw Killer himself.

Toji always had a way of popping up when you least expected. “Hunting your bounty” he’d say, each time pretending he was just there for the cash, and yet, you always managed to get away without a scratch on you. Sometimes, you’d leave a richer woman than you were that morning ─ lady luck simply never on his side for monetary value.

Satoru was another familiar face, one more welcome than others. You’re more than aware how he and Suguru mail letters to each other from time to time, and sometimes you wonder if Suguru purposely guides him close for a reunion under the stars.

Those same stars that watch over and guide your travels are the same set looking down upon your camp now. The surrounding swamps come alive at night with a cacophony of crickets chirping and toads croaking, all meshing with the vibrant atmosphere after a robbery done well, earlier in the day. While Dagon prepares the feast, Mahito sings an out of tune monstrosity of a song for Jogo and Hanami, and all the rest to dance around the bonfire flame, hand in hand.

A sudden touch to your shoulder disturbs your peace; your beating heart calming when you realize it was merely Suguru having now returned from the house.

“That was fast, the girls went down that easy?” You scoot to make some room for him to sit, but your effort proves pointless when he pulls you by the hip against his side.

He kisses your cheek a few times, holding your head in place with one hand. “That easy,” he replies with another kiss to your lips. “I think they’re finally settling in enough to sleep. I didn’t even have to check under the beds for any ghosts and monsters,” he tells you, and you sigh with relief.

“Good, I was worried after all the shit today.”

Ever since the move to Shady Belle, it’s been tougher than any swamp gator to get those two to sleep an entire night on their own. The twins are strong after all they’ve been through, but the dark remains as one of their greatest fears. At some point in the night, they always end up squished between you both in your spacious bed.

“I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?” he says, and from that smirk ─ one as sly as any fox ─ you know he’s referring to something that goes beyond the surrounding atmosphere.

Suguru pulls up by your hand, swinging you flush to his body, his other hand now resting gently against your waist. He begins to sway you to the beat of the song ─ one that’s no longer out of tune or a mockery of Mahito’s own guitar.

“Suguru, what’s this abou–“

He cuts you off with tender kiss. “Relax, just enjoy yourself,” he says. “We have a special night ahead of us, now let’s give them a show.” He smiles eagerly.

The rest of the gang cheers and sings along. Pairs coming together, some trios even, all circling the bonfire in song under the full moon sky. You dance your heart out with Suguru, his eyes never leaving you once. If they could speak a thousand words from his stare alone, they would each be of you, and all that his heart wishes to say.

At one point, the song slows into a calming tune, causing everyone to back away with all eyes set on the two of you at the heart of it all. You glance around the group first before looking to Suguru out of confusion. He returns your look with that same sly grin from earlier before falling to one knee.

“Suguru?” Your lips part slightly as he reaches into his pocket, the shock and anticipation of what you know is coming sets a stampede of thoughts off in your mind.

He says your name as he reveals his ornate offering ─ a ring, bound in the metal perfect for you with a diamond at its center. That precious stone is joined by two amethysts on either side, their hue nearly identical to his own two eyes.

“From the day I met you, I knew you were something special,” he continues.

A diamond in the rough, he’d go on to say ─ that, and a thousand other words on how you’ve been a guiding light to him in a world so full of darkness.

“Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, from now until these very stars watching over us can shine no longer more?”

And you only have one answer.

“I would love you as your wife beyond that time and the end of time itself,” you tell him, feeling a tear fall from your eye as your smile grows wide with joy. “I will gladly marry you, Suguru Geto.” The determination evident in your speech.

He takes your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. The fitting is perfect, just as the two of you are together, leaving no room for doubt. Suguru stands, bringing your hand up to his lips, kissing that very ring before sealing his vow against your lips as you do all the same to his.

“I love you,” he says, breathlessly, and with a look of love like no other. And as the gang cheers for you both, you know in your heart that you made the right choice and found your treasure.

Your return to Sukuna ignited many emotions, some more volatile, and others ─ true to his nature.

He welcomed you back with open arms, practically calling you to his side. There was praise with how you stuck to your word and came back to him, praise that evolved through that sensual reembrace into actions meant to… punish you for the marks left by another. The marks left by Toji.

Sukuna didn’t really care about them, or the fact that there was another. Why would he, when you came back to him, and all he has to do is bury them beneath his own, time and time again to remind you of that.

But then came the marks left by someone else, designed for absolution and oh, how that brought out a whole new side you hadn’t seen before.

He had a fire in his eyes, black flames that seemed to circle and smolder an intense red when he demanded the names of whoever shot that bullet into you. You were his now, and that means whoever lays an uninvited finger on you is his to do as he sees fit, and oh, the ideas he had in store.

You managed to quell the storm after telling him how it all went down. From hunting the coward down through the hills, to ending his life with your own two hands. Sukuna’s wrath took on a new form ─ pride ─ at your abilities in battle. How enchanting you are with blood soaked on your hands.

He still couldn’t help but pout over the missed opportunity of a new soul to torture, something you soon learned was a hobby beyond what most would consider as one.

Although he was careful to hide his tracks, it wasn’t difficult to figure out, not when every time some lowlife would make a pass at you with sinful intentions, they’d end up missing a short while after.

…Did you approve it? Maybe, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You can’t deny that the world isn’t a better place without all those creeps. Perhaps with all the time you’ve shared with Sukuna thus far, a part of him has rubbed off and embedded itself into your soul. Such is the nature of depravity.

During the day you would help him out around town, be it with livestock or adding to his stall with game from outside the city. You each had your own hunting grounds, with yours being the forests or down by the Dakota River, and for Sukuna? Well, he preferred his food close to home, food that was always ripe for the picking.

That went about as well as expected, taking into account the Valentine sheriff whose curiosity remained fixated on you. And while Sukuna isn’t a jealous man by any means, he made his disdain for the man evident, keeping his fangs forthright. After one passionate ─ possessive ─ night of romance, Sukuna told you as you rested in his grip that it was time to move on.

You hated to have to leave the cabin behind, especially when for the two of you, it was home. But as you watched the remains turn to ash before your eyes, the structure engulfed in a mighty, somehow divine flame, you remembered that so long as you have Sukuna, you have a home with him.

The journey itself was long, with many stops along the way before eventually reaching a spot high in the desert plateau, far from anyone to disturb either of you. Along the way however, among the many oppositions were a gang intent on seeking revenge. Whether it was for your killings or his, that much remains a mystery, but the outcome resulted in the right side of Sukuna’s face becoming marred by Molotov flames. Their bodies made for an excellent display along a grand oak tree, the final piece of art created in his name for some time.

The night sky never looked more beautiful than in the desert while leaning back against Sukuna’s frame, your forms carefully illuminated by the campfire glow beneath a sea of stars.

“Aww, don’t tell me you’re cold?” His voice mocks, paired with a suggestive move from his hand settled the curve of your hip. “If you wanted me to warm you up, all you had to do was ask,” he purrs, pulling you tighter against his core.

You exhale an amused sound at his offering, angling your head back to meet his gaze. “Was earlier not enough for you?” you tease back with that same flirtatious undertone that has his fingers digging just a little bit deeper ─ more possessive.

The reason you’re shivering to begin with is become of him. Your clothes have long since been discarded along the flooring of your home, and the arousal between your thighs, still glistening with the rest of your bare flesh.

“Is that a question?” He chuckles darkly before claiming your lips roughly and with a renewed flame. His free hand curls around your neck, preventing any chance of you turning away to avoid his touch.

Sukuna breaks the kiss, but his forehead remains pressed against yours. His eyes half-lidded with lust and a multitude of emotions he doesn’t dare claim to feel, but you know.

“You know better than anyone I could keep going until the sun rises,” he says confidently, and for good reason too. It’s one of the many things you’ve come to love about him.

The sex is good ─ perfect even, but his word, and the promises he makes are everything and more. When he claimed you as his, that wasn’t just for show, and he’s always eager to remind you of such and every little thing you do to him.

Sukuna may never say those three little words like you have to him, but that’s okay because his actions have always made up for it. Normal has never been your thing, so why stop now?

Your eyes move to his scar ─ the point in case that shows where his priorities have been since the beginning. He was the one who stepped in front of you, shielding you from the harm that permanently scarred his features.You bring your hand up to cradle his face, brushing your thumb against the rough texture. His left eye narrows at your action but doesn’t leave the hold he has with yours. With only one working eye… for him to see the world, he first has to see you.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it?” he says, not as a question or a plea for some sympathy, but rather to state the obvious. Personally, he has no problem with it, as with any scar on his body. Others are deterred, some viewing him like any other outlaw when he goes into town, but never have you looked at him with anything but adoration after that first night together many moons ago.

“Not at all.” You shake your head, a soft smile gracing your features. “I’ve always thought it made you look more rugged or badass.”

He smirks, nudging your face with his nose before another ─ more gentle ─ kiss to your lips.

“Careful, dove” he murmurs a faux warning before taking your hand into his, guiding you from his face to his chest, and further down to his stiffened length. “Look what your words have done to me ─ what you do to me.”

Sukuna lets out a hiss of relief when your fingers wrap perfectly around him, applying just the right amount of pressure to all the right places.

“Feels like you’ve got a pretty big problem here,” you chuckle, shifting your body around to better face his. “Need me to fix it for you?”

In one deft motion, Sukuna lifts you onto his lap, his hands finding placement along the curve of your hips. “I would hope so, seeing as you’re the cause. It’ll give you something to do to warm up.” He pats your side a few times. “Now let’s see how far your riding’s come along, shall we?”

After accepting his offer, your life with Toji exceeded every expectation you had placed in the beginning.

From bounties to bar fights, duals and a shit ton of gambling, your life became all about living in the moment, seeing to whatever whim you had in mind for where the day could take you. “Wherever the money is, we go,” Toji always said ─ up until you realized both you and Valentine had become pregnant.

It was a surprise to say the least, but what’s more shocking is that it didn’t happen sooner given Toji’s apparent breeding kink when it came to you. Whatever the case, the news couldn’t have come at a more perfect time.

Your travels brought you into the valley, not far from Lake Owanjila, in a field rich with lavender and all the familiar sage from your childhood home. These flowers serve as a reminder of where you came from, but the rest, it’s all of your own making.

For a while you two slept out of a tent. That is ─ until the local wolves became a tad too curious, often straying too close for anyone’s comfort. That, and the one day you came back from hunting to find a bear napping overtop your then-broken tent. Needless to say, Toji got to work on using those muscles of his not for show, but to build you a cabin, all from the ground up.

He worked tirelessly during the course of your pregnancy, often leaving you to stay behind in a hotel in the city of Strawberry. As for Valentine, you boarded her at a local stable to better monitor her pregnancy without any risk of predators interfering.

It was hard going days sometimes without any word from Toji, and not having Valentine with you left you feeling quite lonely under stars you equally shared. At the very least, it made your reunions a time to celebrate, with a night of making sweet love together again.

On the day he came to collect you, your heart raced ─ faster that any thoroughbred ─ with excitement and joy. The many months of effort and separation were finally paying off. And then your water broke mere moments later, delaying that journey to your new home by another few days. Neither of you minded, not when you were both too busy welcoming both Tsumiki and Megumi into the world ─ your beloved pair of twins.

You got married not long after that.

If having children didn’t seal the deal, the vibrant, emerald ring on your finger and the cabin built just for you certainly did. Pronghorn Ranch, you two named your stretch of the valley. You even had the ceremony right there on the property with a child in each of your arms, and a few close others to bear witness to matrimony.

Shockingly, Valentine ended up giving birth to a pair of twins as well. Turns out, all those gambling losses Toji’s accumulated made up for being gifted in other departments, his trusty steed included, considering the rarity of twin foals that manage to survive their youth.

After the death of your parents, you never imagined getting to experience family like that ever again, and how happy you are to share this again with Toji at your side. For someone as unpredictable and crazy as any bucking bronco ─ he’s shown you that anything’s possible, and he’d do anything to make your dreams a reality.

Your life went from that same unpredictability and camping under the stars to enjoying that same night sky from the view of your porch with the ones you love with all your heart and more.

“There you are, Ma,” Toji greets, hugging you from behind. He pulls you closer by your waist, kissing you along the side of your neck. Your giggling only serves to entice him further, but with Megumi in your arms, he knows he can’t get too carried away. “Been lookin’ for you, what are you doing out here with Megs?”

It’s become your daily tradition to go on walks around the property with Megumi. Compared to his sister right now, he holds a lot more energy. Seeing all the animals around the ranch has become his favorite activity. And right now, he’s found you up close and personal with Valentine and her foals.

“’Gumi here”–You pinch his chubby little cheeks–“wanted to see the babies up close.” You turn your head, smiling at Toji for a second before your eyes wander. “Where’s Tsumi’?” you ask.

“She’s fine,” he says, pointing back to the porch with a thumb over his shoulder. “Let her with her toys so I could come see you.”

You’re surprised he managed to get away without any tears. Tsumiki has a way of getting what she wants when it comes to Toji, and how could he ever say no to either of his kids?

“Well, you’re just in time to watch Megumi ride a horse for the first time.”

Toji about chokes on his own spit when he hears that.

“Ma, are you sure that’s a good idea?” he questions, his tone full of worry. “He’s two, what if he gets hurt?”

“He’ll be fine, Valentine wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt him,” you refute, and Toji knows it’s meaningless to argue, but the thought of anything happening is one of the few things in this world that genuinely scares him. This family of yours matters just as much to Toji as it does for you, if not more than you can imagine given his own upbringing in a shitty cult of a family.

What a story that was the night he first told it.

“Besides, it’s about time he saddles up,” you add.

“Is he even going to remember this?” Toji stresses, biting his lip as you place Megumi on the mare’s back. He finds himself unconsciously stepping closer.

“Maybe, maybe not, who knows?” You place a hand on Toji’s arm to reassure him, keeping your other one around your son’s. “This is something my father did for me, and someday one of these foals will be his to ride on, and Tsumiki the other.”

You wonder if Megumi will take up the soon-to-be black colt like his father, or the chestnut filly. With their baby coats having almost finished shedding, their true colors are finally revealing. It’s one of the many joys of watching foals grow up, and a gamble in itself at what coat colors two parents could pass on.

Toji still isn’t convinced, but at the sight of your bright smile, and Megumi’s joyful babbles, he finds himself grinning with amusement ─ something you don’t miss.

“Go get Tsumiki so she can have a turn!” You tell him, patting his bicep eagerly. His smile no sooner disappears, replaced with that of a stern father’s gaze.

“Absolutely not. She can wait another few years to try.”

And by few, he means a decade or more, depending on his mood.

“That’s not fair, her brother is already riding.” You plead to him, pouting all the while, but this is where arguing becomes impossible for you.

With Megumi, he’s Toji’s son through and through. He believes Megumi to be a miniature version of himself and will prove that in time as he gets older. Tsumiki however, she’s a princess in his eyes, and you swear you’ve seen him tear up over her getting the smallest of cuts.

Overall, he’s the best father you could’ve asked for with your children, and an even more loving husband to yourself. You look forward to growing old with him at your side, and with your children living their best lives like you are now.

“If you don’t come up to the house, your dinner’s gonna get cold,” he says at the sound of your stomach rumbling.

You gasp, “Why didn’t you say that earlier? I’m starving!”

Toji lifts Megumi, holding him in one arm, with his other all for you. “Because someone didn’t hear me callin’ for them,” he scolds. “Now come on, sweetheart. I made your favorite.”

You wrap yourself around his arm, leaning into him on the way back up to your home. “I love you, Toji,” you tell him fondly, eyes staring into his equal weight to your words.

“I love you too, Ma.”

Life couldn’t possibly get better than this, not when you’ve already found everything you could’ve possibly wanted in it.

Fate has many things in store for you, even if you weren’t previously aware how knotted into its red fibers you are.

Instead of choosing one, or any of the men ─ you continued on with life as you originally planned before stopping in Valentine. Rather than settle for anything domestic, you opted to continue your journey across the frontier, sleeping under a blanket of stars, and meeting a whole new realm of people along the way.

You spent some time with Choso and Yuki for starters, hunting bounties together or raving in the nearest saloon. Both you and the couple shared many experiences, somehow always finding each other despite parting in separate directions each time without fail.

There were other faces and names that also crossed your path ─ some good, some bad. You might have even considered a life with them if you were ready to aside your reins. At the end of the day, your best company was found with Valentine, your beloved mare to have seen it all and come out on top, regardless of the circumstances.

All in all, the life you were building was entirely of your own making, and to you, that was the way to live. “Pick a direction and trot on,” became one such motto of life, through deserts and mountains. Every step brought a brand-new experience, and that experience was everything you unknowingly needed in order to be prepared.

It was a day like any other, or so it had seemed. The sky was clouded over, on the brink of tearing forth with the full wrath of nature. The only thing is… the calamity that came forth didn’t come from the heavens ─ no.

It came from down below, in what could only be described as hell, and the catalyst that sent you back to the city you strayed from in your journey of life.

How else were you to survive the apocalypse once the trumpets sounded, and the undead came to life.

☆ Notes: sorry this took 3 months almost lol

I won’t go off with any heartfelt messages just yet, but I am incredibly grateful to everyone that’s stuck around this far, and I hope you like how I did this “ending” :)

Honestly, when I first started this series, I was going to make Toji the endgame, but then thought that would piss off anyone who came here for the other men, so I came up with multiple routes instead. It may not be everyone’s preference, but I thought it to be fair and it lets me go off with more headcanons separate from smut.

In light of that though, I hope you guys look forward to the bonus chapter I’ve kept a surprise until now ^^ aka, the secret polyamory ending.

Lastly, linked below are some of my favorite cowboy artworks of the jjk men, some of which helped inspired parts of this series <3

NANAMI 1 & 2 | SATORU | SUGURU | SUKUNA | TOJI | CHOSO

[vampiric-moonstone]

(TW: Cannibalism? I don’t know if a toon eating another toon is cannibalism or not, but you get the idea)

I’m so mad at the fact that I can’t find Twisted Sprout that I want to draw Sprout in my Yandere AU threatening Shrimpo to leave Cosmo alone

[respiratory-kristem]

…

Kristopher Hoffmann! Most people just call me Kris

I'm nineteen!

He/They/It pronouns please <3

…You wanna talk? Yay!

red - xoran is speaking. He's a prick sometimes though

text - Fused. I'm really dangerous. Stay away from me when I'm like this.

purple - possessed. I'd… rather not talk about that, thanks!

Ability: Death of the guilty - the ability to sprout black tendrils in battle. When idle they take the form of wings and when the ability is deactivated they disappear.

(extra imagesunder the cut !! fused intro here)

MOD - @aredeemantagonist

TW, BLOG FEATURES THEMES OF MURDER, ABUSE, CANNIBALISM, SUICIDE, S€LF H@RM, ETC ETC. IT WILL NOT ALWAYS BE TAGGED, PROCEED WITH CAUTION

CURRENT EMPLOYMENT STATUS - WITH THE PORT MAFIA

CURRENT STATUS - ALIVE AND HUMAN

INFORMATION! Angst Facts!! Cosplay dump!! KRIS INFORMATION!!!! GO LOOK AT THIS NOW!!!! AU MASTERLIST!!!!!! A DAY IN THE LIFE OF KRIS diagonsis!!

FICS! Five Times I was Happy

FIRST TWO ASSASSIN OUTFITS

decay of angel arc design ^

[severalratstiedtogether]

THIS DUMBASS thinks he SUCCEEDED IN WHAT HE SET OUT TO DO!

he is incorrect!

[asherraccoon]

Urge- Radioapple- angst, dead dove- human au- TW: Murder, gore, cannibalism

Alastor grabbed his axe from his closet. He had to do this. He stared at the axe’s sharp blade. He had to. He didn’t know why, he just had to. He grabbed a knife and put it in the pocket on the inside of his coat. He took a pistol and held it up. Perfect. Lucifer wasn’t going to know what hit him. 

Lucifer had been told to meet Alastor in the woods. In their spot. The same spot that they had met the day Lucifer had gone camping with his father and brothers. They were 14 that day. Now they were both in their 30s. It had been a good life for them. Such a shame it had to end for Lucifer. 

Alastor walked through the woods. His boots crushed the dry leaves underneath them. It was fall, his and Lucifer’s favorite time of year. He felt the gun in his jacket’s inner pocket pressing against him. He needed to make sure all of the bullets got used. Needed to make sure Lucifer was dead. He looked at his hands, making sure his gloves were on. He couldn’t have blood on his hands, now, could he? 

Lucifer heard the sound of Alastor’s footsteps. He turned his head and excitedly stood up from the log he was sitting on. “Hey, Al!” He waved excitedly. 

Alastor paused. He was hoping to sneak up behind Lucifer and shoot him without getting seen. He forced a smile. “Hello, my love!” He greeted the blonde. 

Lucifer noticed the axe in Alastor’s hand. “What… What’s that for?” He asked, slightly nervous. 

Alastor looked at the axe. He slung it over his shoulder. “Nothing. I heard about bear sightings in these woods recently. I have a gun too,” He said, shrugging. 

“Oh,” Lucifer sat down on the log again. “Well, it's good to have protection,” He looked out at the river. 

Alastor sat on the log next to him. He stared at the back of Lucifer’s head. He reached for the gun in his jacket and pulled it out. He aimed it at the back of Lucifer’s head. His hand was shaking slightly. Why? He needed to do this. 

Lucifer turned his towards Alastor. He gasped and his eyes widened. He stared at the pistol Alastor was pointing at him. “A-Alastor…?” He whispered. 

“I need to do this,” Alastor said quietly. “I’m sorry,” 

“What..? Alastor, this… this is a joke, right?” Lucifer asked. He gave a forced smiled and laugh. Tears starting to form in his eyes. 

“No,” Alastor said. He stood up, keeping the gun pointed at Lucifer’s head. 

“Alastor, you’re scaring me… This isn’t funny, Al, stop it…” Lucifer’s voice was starting to tremble. In fact, his entire body was. He couldn’t get himself to move. He was scared. 

“I’m sorry, Lucifer,” He aimed the gun, making sure it was pointed directly at the center of Lucifer’s skull. However, just before he pulled the trigger, he moved the gun down and shot in between Lucifer’s collarbones. 

Lucifer screamed and fell backwards on the grass, leaves crunching underneath him. Tears sprouted from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. He pressed his hand against the bullet wound. He was breathing heavily. “A-Alastor please!” He shouted, terrified. He tried to scoot away from Alastor but he bumped into a tree. 

“Dammit!” Alastor cursed when he missed. Why did his arm move? He was supposed to get his head, not his chest! He pointed his gun and shot Lucifer’s shoulder. Dammit! He meant to hit the heart! Why was he fucking up his aim so much?

Lucifer shrieked as his shoulder was shot. “ALASTOR STOP IT!” He begged. He choked on his own breath. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The man he had loved since they were teenagers was trying to kill him. He was praying that this was all just a nightmare and he would wake up once he was killed. 

Alastor shot the gun again. He hit next to his first shot. “God, FUCKING DAMMIT!” He tried to shoot again, but the gun was empty. “Did I seriously only have three bullets!?” He checked the mag. It was empty. He let out a frustrated groan and threw the gun into the river. He pulled out his knife. “Doing this the hard way then,” He walked over to Lucifer and climbed on top of him, pinning him down to the ground.

“ALASTOR PLEASE!” Lucifer begged. He sobbed uncontrollably as Alastor pinned him down. He felt the knife’s blade press against his chest. “Why are you doing this to me?! I-I thought you l-loved me!” He stared up at Alastor. He felt betrayed and heart broken. He didn’t know what to do. 

Alastor paused. He looked at Lucifer’s eyes. The fear in his husband’s eyes… The pain, the heartbreak, the betrayal. He pressed the blade harder against Lucifer’s chest. “Because I have to, Lucifer. It’s not like I wanted this,” 

“Wh-what do you mean you have to?!” Lucifer asked. 

Alastor couldn’t explain. He didn’t know how. He just had this urge. This feeling. He needed to kill Lucifer. He stabbed the knife into Lucifer’s chest and listened to his screams of pain. He dragged the knife down. He watched as the blood poured out of Lucifer. He pressed the knife in further. He dragged it down Lucifer’s torso, stopping at his stomach and pulling the knife out. How Lucifer was still alive, he had no idea. 

Lucifer was sobbing, screaming, unable to speak anymore. He felt like he was going to pass out. He gasped for air, unable to breathe normally. He wanted this to just be a sick and twisted nightmare. But he felt the pain. He knew this was really happening. His husband, his first love, was killing him. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move. All he could do was let Alastor kill him.

Alastor stabbed Lucifer’s shoulder and listened to him scream and cry. He dragged the knife down. He paused as he reached around where the heart was. Was he really about to do this? Yeah. Yeah he was. He took a deep breath and the dragged the knife through quickly. There was a brief scream and then silence.

Lucifer was dead. 

Alastor looked up at Lucifer’s face. His tear-filled eyes blankly staring up at the sky, his mouth slightly open. He had been screaming just a moment before. Alastor pulled out the knife. He looked at the giant gash in the middle of Lucifer’s body. He shrugged. “Why not?” He muttered. He opened Lucifer’s body up and looked at his options. He found the liver and cut it out. His gloves where soaked in blood now, but he could always get rid of them and but new ones. He took a bite of Lucifer’s liver. It wasn’t an awful taste. He took another bite. Eating raw human meat probably wasn’t a good idea. He tossed the liver into the river after swallowing his current mouthful. He looked at Lucifer’s insides again. He wondered what the heart tasted like. He cut out one of the halves of the heart that he had slashed in half. He took a bite. Not terrible. He didn’t know why he was eating his lover, it just felt right after killing him. 

There was the sound of voices. 

Shit. Alastor looked at Lucifer’s body. He needed to get rid of this. Fast. He grabbed his axe and started chopping up Lucifer’s body. Cutting off his legs, arms, and head. Blood got everywhere. Maybe they’d think the blood and organs left over would be from an animal or something. He gathered up Lucifer’s parts and threw them in the river. He held up Lucifer’s head. “Sorry, my love. It had to be done,” He said softly. He kissed the lifeless head’s lips softly before throwing it in the river. He quickly grabbed his gun, knife, and axe and ran into the trees, hoping to get away before anyone could call the police. 

(Felt like writing about Alastor killing and eating Lucifer. Idk, just an urge I had :3)

[pocketwei]

hii do you perhaps have any dofuwani fics recommendation. I've checked out the the ao3 but I really don't seem to like anything there after scrolling thru the most kudos'd works... I feel like you (and a few other artists) get them and I wanted to read things in a similar tone as your art and so far I'm in the trenches bleeding out. like obviously no offense to any of the writers it's just that all the like modern highschool loving dad croc and etc aus are not for me... OTL I hope I'm not sounding rude and thank you for your time!

oh anon come rest your head upon my bosom.... I got you anon..... as a fellow slave to canon-compliance I, too, know the pain of sifting through pages upon pages of AUs, not that there's anything wrong with them but I just can't imagine these sickos working a 9 to 5 in a suit...... thank you for thinking my vision of dofuwani is trust-worthy, this is vain on my part but it genuinely means a lot <3 OK rant over here are the goods, in no particular order (always mind the tags but I figure if you asked me for dfwn sacred texts you're probably a fellow sicko):

that was now and this is then. by ghostwit (M): one of my favourite ever, perhaps even my favourite. About a long relationship, about twisting each other inside the skin, about being formative to each other in ways so deep and intertwined that they can't seem to tear one apart from the other. And despite it all* (*the murders and the hatred and the irreconciliable flaws and differences of their Ego (philosophical) and the unbearable, unacceptable vulnerability of understanding), they are, somehow, unforgivably and incomprehensibly, in love. *smashes head against pavement, it cracks open like an egg, spilling millions of dofuwani thoughts everywhere

no better irony by ghostwit (E): shichibukai meeting sidequest...... excellent characterisation like everything Haze writes (it's just The Best dofuwani there is..... read everything he wrote please). I'm so fond of them in that fic in a way that's like. watching stick bugs in a terrarium. You don't understand them and they don't understand you but you're just happy they're having fun. You wouldn't join in for anything in the world though.

like i need a gaping headwound by ghostwit (M): loguetown era dfwn, Haze back at it with formative years and the fresh sprouts of insanity in these two. So so so good.

nothing in this world that's quite prescribable by ghostwit (T): the opening of this fic is perhaps one of my favourite scenes ever. Vulnerability and odd transparence that only drunken disinhibition allows. Which is rare for these two. Absolutely adore this one.

honestly you can and should read everything Haze has written for these two they're just so AUGHHHHHH

black & bloody & rotten & perfect by revolvermonkcelot (M): perfect capture of the fine line between (????love, perhaps) and insanity they walk on. Absolutely fucking insane about this one, the reverence and sacrality of their whole thing, the Indulgence:tm: and permission that can be revoked (for Crocodile is mercurial in his vulnerability), but that is somehow maintained in a delicate and incomprehensible equilibrium. + absolutely incredible undertones of wani (trans)identity crisis, the imperceptible yet meaningful and constant change of the Form... Head in hands

Just a taste by marimoes (M): perfect perfect perfect characterisation, little gestures that betray familiarity. Perfect on all accounts

Swallow by revolvermonkcelot (M): my roman empire. Absolutely perfect Wani characterisation, it's The Wani for me. Exploits perfectly the essential dfwn dichotomy of "one entity tumbling down and the other rising up, meeting halfway through in the eye of the storm, in a singular moment". Classy cannibalism that ties to the no-less essential concept of consumption, to be/become whole again. The reason why they somehow stick together is because of this primordial longing for something, for understanding perhaps, for beauty sometimes, for belonging. Fcuking hell I love them so mucj

A Bird and His Cage by doctornemesis (E): read this one a long time ago but it's in my bookmarks so I trust past me's judgment and tell you it's amazing

From Dressrosa with Love by Sibilans (E, on-going): incredible atmosphere, perfectly depicts the post-golden age rotting glamour of Dressrosa. They are particularly unhinged in this one.

i wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name by stealth-black-leg (Kiir_Bee) (E): I'm running out of steam for long meaningful comments but this one has top tier characterisation.

That's it!! Don't forget to comment and leave kudos to give writers the love they deserve <3

[windsroad]

MORE WHUMPTOBER... Dread Lord Justice AU time

we'll say this is for today, but i'm using an alternate prompt! or you could say since there's a vampire it's today's prompt "cannibalism" so who's to say

12 - Shivering

Pascale shivered in fear as he stood staring up at the dark fortress. He had elected to split from his friends and face the Dread Lord of Commoda by himself. 

The doors of the fortress creaked open to reveal a large, dusty front hall before Pascale did anything, like he was being watched. He stood nervously, waiting for something else to happen, breathing in the musty air.

A pale elf appeared from around the large door. “Here to see the Count?”

“The Count?”

The elf laughed. “Sorry. I will take you to see my lady.”

The elf—the Dread Lord’s butler, Pascale supposed—led him to another dark and dusty hall, bowed, and took his leave. Pascale was left standing at the far end of a dining table fit for a massive feast. On the other side was a dias, with a large throne, upon which two figures whispered.

“Look,” said the large figure to the left of the throne. “The whelp came alone. How brave.”

The figure on the throne fixed her glowing red eyes on Pascale. “Hm, quite so, brother. Come closer,” she called. “Please, I wish to see you.”

Pascale stepped forward, shaking rather.

The Dread Lord slowly stepped down from the dias, into the pale light herself. Horns sprouted from her head and fangs from her mouth. Her long black hair trailed into her heavy black cloak. Its large fur mantle was clasped with a glistening red gem. Underneath the cloak, the Dread Lord wore a brocade waistcoat, fit for any nobility, but her tail was decidedly not-noble.

Lathander, thought Pascale. She really is a devil.

“Your name?” she asked.

“P-Pascale,” he stuttered.

The larger figure stepped out of the darkness. He was more human looking than the Dread Lord, but there was a definite familial resemblance. “I may have spoken too soon,” he said. “See? He’s shaking.”

“Oh, hush, Emil,” said the Dread Lord, with a teasing tone. “It’s only a natural bodily reaction. It can’t be helped.” Still, Pascale tried to calm himself.

The Dread Lord narrowed her gaze on Pascale. “Why have you come here?”

“I came, my lady—”

“Please,” the Dread Lord interrupted, “call me Justice. I abhor titles of nobility.”

Pascale gulped. “Of course,” he said, fingering his holy symbol. “I came, Justice, against the wishes of my party—because I thought you might be redeemed.”

Justice cocked an eyebrow. She and Emil met eyes.

“Not the usual sort,” said Emil.

Justice turned again and smiled. “I’m sorry. I have been a terrible host!” Pascale shrank back as she approached, but she merely pulled out the chair at the head of the table’s right hand and offered it to him. “Please, be seated. Emil, tell Rahadin to bring some food and drink for our guest.”

“Oh, you really needn’t—”

“Please. Hospitality is important. If I can’t be a good host, what am I?” She smiled warmly, displaying her prominent fangs.

They both sat, and the elf from earlier brought out a plate of fruits, bread, and wine.

Justice continued to smile sweetly and waited.

“Please, my- Justice. It would not be right for me to eat before my host.”

“Oh, I’m not a fan of fruits,” she said, and continued to wait.

Awkwardly, Pascale bit into a fluffy roll of bread and took a large gulp of wine. It was unwatered and strong.

“My apologies that this is all we could provide at this time of night. Why have you come, at such an odd hour?”

Pascale gulped down a grape. “My party did not want me to come,” he said. “They thought I was crazy. I snuck out while they slept. I came because… because I heard you used to be a freedom fighter, and I thought you might… have some good in you, still,” he said bluntly.

“Interesting. Where did you hear this?”

“I met someone who said she used to know you, a long time ago.”

Justice stilled. “Did you now.”

Pascale took another large sip of wine; he was very nervous. “I thought… it would be odd, if you were a freedom fighter, to end up in this position.”

Justice sat back and crossed her legs. “Very astute,” she said. “It would be odd, wouldn’t it? I assume you’ve seen my people. How they suffer. I would like to see them freed, it is true.”

“But—” here Pascale summoned all his courage— “they suffer because of you.”

Justice rose from her seat, and began pacing around the table, hands behind her back. Pascale again flinched as she walked past, but the Dread Lord did not acknowledge it.

“I can see how you would think that,” she said. “But do you think I have the power to hide the sun? To suck the joy from food and drink? No, not me.” She wore a look of deep concern, her tail lashing behind her. “I suffer as much as they do. I want us all freed.”

Pascale sat up, leaning in with interest. “Then who? Who has done this?”

Justice circled to stand across from Pascale, leaning over the table towards him. “The Dark Powers,” she hissed angrily. She thumped a fist on the table. “They are to blame. They have unjustly imprisoned me and my people. I will escape and see my justice done to them. They have put me here to stop me. Because they are afraid.”

Pascale sat back, considering. “You want to stop this?”

“Yes.”

“And prevent it from happening again?”

“Of course.”

“And then… the people here will be free?”

“Every one of them.”

Pascale took another sip of wine. His head was feeling muzzy. He saw Emil had reappeared again; the man was smiling.

“Then… how can I help?

“I was hoping you would ask,” said Justice, whispering close in his ear. Her teeth were at his neck.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[ratzhatz14]

Have you heard of the cannibal sprout au? The name’s self explanatory, Sprout just eats Cosmo.

Awh hell yeah!!!1!! I like that au

Healing Cosmo with tapes = infinite food glitch

And... I might've subconsciously taken a teeny weeny bit of inspiration from it? eheh....... I hate how my brain works I can't get anything done