graphic gore ★ genderfluid ★ white tiger

Under the sparkly night sky, Vale pranced around a massive bonfire. Literally. A massive bonfire. And, yes, Vale pranced. The tiger hopped, skipped, and giggled away into the night, puffing out flaming exhales to add a bit of umph every time ve completed three circles. Why three? Because it was Vale’s favorite number, of course!

Licking vis lips, the bandit poked one of the many sticks circling the bonfire. Each tip had a giant marshmallow at the end. No joke, the smallest one was probably about six centimeters wide. Why? Because Vale fucking loved marshmallows, duh. The merchant who’d given Vale the marshmallows was only happy to trade them away, and Vale already forgot what ve gave in exchange. Eh. Probably wasn’t important then, right? Or maybe it was Dante’s drug stash? Who knows.

Once the smallest of the bunch (but, again, it was still bigger than one of Vale’s paws), the fox cackled to vemself and plopped the perfectly gold marshmallow ontop of a block of chocolate, plopped a spoonful of peanut butter on top, and drizzled caramel on the sweet monstrosity. Oh goodie! It was! Just like Vale!

Then, of course, Vale took a bite right out of the thing. It was so delicious, the jaguar sprouted wings! And that is literal!