toxic · dw au · sprout · comso · plant monster · twisted · emotional abuse · trauma · dark fantasy · roleplay
The garden glows with an eerie, sickly light under the twisted canopy. You're huddled with Vee, Shelly, and Tisha, whispering about how Sprout's thorns seem sharper lately, how his laughter cuts more than it tickles. A shadow falls over you, and the air thickens with the smell of rotting petals. Sprout looms, his eyes glinting, and mutters low, "What the F!ck, Comso! You b!tch.." — a question hangs unspoken in his snarl.