You breathe it in. Crisp, cool air fills your lungs. Your eyes flutter shut. With your inhale, you imagine becoming such a beautiful sight. Soft blue azaleas will curl throughout your ribcage. Your breath would taste of white rosemary as the flowers bud from your throat. In your belly, sunflowers bloom and face the light. You'd cry bluebell petals and you'd sing daffodils. And, at your heart, a bundle of wild snapdragons will beat. You exhale, long and slow. Your mind is clearer. Your chest aches no longer. Your body feels unburdened. The Lord has no love for you and that's a mutual feeling. However, you will always admit that He certainly did two things right; sunrises and flowers. All this ugliness in this damnable world- all that ugliness in you- it holds no candle to sunrises and flowers.

Your fingers strum softly across the cords of your guitar, each note the sound of a sight before you. You hum along with whatever tune spills from your hands before you recognize what it is that longs to be sung.

"I am a man of constant sorrow.

I've seen trouble all my day.

I'm going back to California.

Place where I was partly raised."

"All through this world, I'm bound to ramble.

Through storm and wind, through sleet and rain.

I'm bound to ride that northern railroad.

Perhaps I'll take the very next train."

If you had it your way, you'd sing until the end of time. You'd sing until your fingers turned to dust and your guitar strings were rust. You wouldn't worry for a thing. You would just sing.

"Your friends they say I am a stranger.

You'll never see my face no more.

There is just one promise that's given,

We'll sail on God's golden shore."

"I am a man of constant sorrow.

I've seen trouble all my day.

I'm going back to California.

Place where I was partly raised."

"Don't sound like such a bad idea, that."

You smile, letting the song continue on as the sound of heavy boots in the grass approach form behind you. Arthur steps over the log you're sat on and takes the empty spot beside you. He's silent for a moment. Your guitar's voice weaves through the breeze and the sun keeps rising. If you were the romantic type, you'd think it was rising just to hear you sing. You give one last thrum of the copper string. "Thinkin' about runnin' away, are ya?" You ask as you gently set your guitar aside, turning to look at Arthur for the first time. He's hunched slightly, arms resting on his knees and worn hands rubbing together in front of him. He's gazing out over the trees below the steep cliff edge you're sat together on. Somewhere off in the near trees, that mourning dove is singing with another.

He gives a humoured huff from his nose. "Nah," his words a relaxed and low, "ain't got no place to run." You both know that's not exactly true. He's already ran and he's sitting right beside his destination.

You reach out and brush a thumb over the decent and rough scruff he's been growing. Dark chestnut hair curls at his ear, strands fall loose beside his face, and the rest tumbles at his shoulders. Tired blue eyes shift to meet your own. You're not sure he realizes it when he's leaning into your palm, nose turning to press against your skin. Your snapdragons ache. Even as his lips speak into the lines of your hand, he inquires; "Why you always comin' back here, huh?"

Arthur Morgan is a contradiction of a man. He's the strongest man you've known, yet the most fragile soul you'll ever meet. He is a man of such longing and sorrow. His hands are stained in red and his heart is knotted down by an anchor -weighed with every life he's ever taken. He's known loneliness longer than he's known himself, been acquainted with the Devil before any psalm or hymn. Yet he kissed your fingers with the reverence of a sinner seeking forgiveness. He has adoration, cruelty, despair, and love like any other that walks the world. Arthur Morgan is just a man. Your man.

"Because there's nowhere else I wanna be." You murmur, the lines in his face deep with a conflicted grimace that immediately softens when you lean in to kiss away the furrow of his brow. "Besides," a chuckle bubbles from your mouth as you speak and it makes Arthur smile, "you're the one comin' to me. I'm just singin' like always." "Bullshit." He denies playfully, "You know I love t'hear you."

"That don't sound like my fault at all, Morgan."

"Not your fault, huh?"

"Not one bit."

A thick and strong arm slings around your waist and hikes you right against Arthur's side with startling easy. You laugh as Arthur buries his face against the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching your skin but his lips soothing soon after. He's laughing with you, against you. You feel the rumble of his voice and you rest your hands on his chest. Not an inch of space is between your bodies. He kissed your jaw and your cheek, then the spot beside your eye. Your foreheads meet gently. Your chuckles mingle for a moment longer as you gaze at one another. You smile so wide and for so long that your face hurts, but it's a pain you'd want to feel for the rest of your life.

"You are a ridiculous man, Arthur Morgan!" Your finger pokes at his chest in accusation and he snorts. "Mmhm," he hums with a handsome grin, "ridiculous enough for you to sing however much I like?" "Maybe..." You drawl sweetly. He nudges his nose to yours, eyes flickering to your lips without shame. "Ridiculous enough for you to finally kiss me?" Your eyelashes flutter and the adoring timbre of his words rolls down your spine in a shiver. "Oh," you murmur, "yeah, you're definitely ridiculous enough for that."

The sun is rising higher.

The light bathes you both. Arthur's hand holds the back of your neck and you tilt your head to feel him further when your lips meet in a kiss. Time itself seems to take pity upon the two of you, nestling your bodies in a pocket of forever. You need not breathe because he gives you all the air in his lungs and you return it without hesitation. You don't know that he can taste the rosemary and daffodils. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. You want and he gives. He wants and you give. It could be like this until the end of the world.

It should have been like this until the end of the world. The sun is rising even higher. The dawn is disappearing into morning.

You feel something in your chest sink. It's like he feels it too. Arthur just barely separates from you, your eyes stay screwed shut and your fists close tightly at his shirt. He says your name as soft as a man like is able. You shake your head. "Darlin'," Arthur whispers, "I'm sorry. Y'know I am." You hide your face against him and his arms hold you like you'll slip away any moment now (because he knows it to be true). "Please, Arthur-" you plead, "Please don't let me go back." He holds you tighter and his chest trembles. The mourning doves no longer sing together. "Take me with you," your voice breaks as you feel his lips at your hairline, "I can't- I-I...I don't wanna do it anymore. I don't wanna keep-"

"Don't you finish that sentence." Arthur cuts you off instantly, his voice admonishing but pained. "But it's true." You insist, "Keep me here. Let me stay. I'll sing again and- and I'll play my guitar and you can listen-" He says your name again. "Please, Arthur, please-" Arthur pulls back and his big hands cup your face to raise your head, to look you in your eyes. Tears had already started spilling- no, flooding- down your face. You know his heart breaks at the sight. He always hated it when you cried. "Please...I can't go back there, A-Arthur." His thumbs do their best to wipe away your tears and you cover his hands with your own, pressing him closer. "It's- i-it's not enough...! It's never enough t-time!" You sob as everything within you begins to wither away.

The azaleas are choking you, the rosemary is rotting on your tongue, the broken stems of sunflowers jab at your insides, there are no pretty bluebells rolling down your face, your cries are not beautiful like daffodils, and the snapdragons are dying. The snapdragons are dying and there is nothing you can do. Just like...

You don't dare complete the comparison.

But it's too late. The morning is here. The sun is over the mountains. Arthur rasps your name. When you blink, you start crying even harder. He's changed. His complexion is pale, his voice is strained, his eyes are sunken- the visage of sickness. Still, that blue is as vibrant as the day you'd met him. He blinks twice in quick succession to fight back the misty layer over his eyes and his throat bobs. Arthur's gaze darts over every detail of your face desperately, drinking you in as if it'll be the last time he ever does it. A hiccup of complete sorrow falls past your lips as you find yourself doing the same. His trembling fingers gingerly feel your skin beneath his hands, the warmth of him is gone. Your face scrunches and you sob, "A-Arthur," he doesn't allow you to finish. His arms hug around your shoulders and crush you in his embrace- you return it without hesitation.

The two of you are no longer on that cliffside. You're standing, holding each other like the gates of hell are about to swallow Arthur up and gain another sinful man. A symphony of gunfire echoes all around you, far into the distance. The distance Arthur would soon walk towards. He kisses the top of your head and stays there. Neither of you are able to see the other's despair. Maybe that was always for the best. "I-I," Arthur begins and you just cling to him harder because you know what comes next, "Y-You gotta get outta here." You can't go with him. You never will, no matter how many times you try. He's the one to force himself away from you, his hands sliding down your arms slowly before you manage to catch one just before he's gone entirely. You hang on. Arthur Morgan can only peer into your heart one last time. He holds your hands in his and gives one last squeeze. Something hard, round, and small presses into your palm as he closes your hands around the object.

"I love you."

Your eyes open to darkness. Wetness tickles your face and you can only stare up at the familiar ceiling of your bedroom. Rays of moonlight pour through white curtains and onto your curled up form. You push yourself upright slowly, a stray tear rolling down your cheek to free fall on the gold band on your ring finger. Your husband's body stirs beside you- his arm slung lazily over your waist. It is comforting. It's not Arthur, but it is comforting. You wipe your forearm against your eyes and sniffle softly. That's the fifth time you've dreamt of Arthur this week. You had the same dream the entire week before. And the week before that (and the week before that one). "Y'alright, hon...?" Your husband's sleepy voice mumbles before he shuffles nearer to your warmth.

"Yes." You whisper, dull and exhausted stare pointed nowhere in particular. "I'm fine." "Lay back down. Get some more sleep with me." Your kind but unaware husband tells you gently. Even if he doesn't see you do it, you nod your head. He adjusts with you as you move to lay on your side with your back to him. His chest presses against you. He rests his chin at the top of your head. "Love you, darlin'..." It doesn't take long before your husband's breath slows and evens out entirely. You hold your own hands beside your head, gaze focused on what it always wandered to after that dream.

On your nightstand is a mason jar. Dried, nearly dead snapdragons curl within. Frail and lonely. A beautiful, gently gleaming ring hides beneath curled petals. The sight blurs.

"...I love you, too."

- Seven Eyes: You are the planned successor of a highly cherished clan descended from great traveling prophets with the ability to look into the near and far future. Holding the greatest gift of your bloodline, your future and success is not an expectation, it is inevitable. However, the scales of balance forever change with one fateful meeting and a boy with blue eyes.

- Quiet Lives: You are a simple, single, and young mother who owns a humble but beloved local bakery in Sendai. You've come a long way from your rough and horrible past. You want nothing more than a quiet life. That pursuit for a simple and easy life is halted when a blonde stranger walks through your doors.

- No Rest For We Sinners: To the dismay of all around you, you possess the most powerful cursed technique to run in your bloodline. Born the youngest and only daughter of the most prestigious family in the renowned Abe clan, you are thrown into a world of painful trials and tribulations to make sure your existence will prove fruitful. However, after brutally slaughtering the clan head and staining the sacred grounds of the Abe gardens with blood at sixteen years old, you flee to the world beyond your home's walls.

- Two Slow Dancers: After a mission gone horrifically wrong, you are left as the sole survivor of your second-year in the Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College at only sixteen. Suffering the heavy loss of your peers, you continue your year in isolation and earn a title of strength by jujutsu society, and choose to participate in the Tokyo-Kyoto Sister Exchange Event.

- No Phoenix From Our Ashes: A strange series of incidents and deaths happening within incredibly wealthy families and corporations across Japan have caught the attention of the Jujutsu Society after a violent robbery takes place within the Zen'in estate. The upper echelon of jujutsu society have found that this is the work of a rogue curse user, narrowing down their investigation to a very concerning suspect. Shoko is sent out on the field along with Gojo, Geto, and Yaga to neutralize the threat with specific conditions.

- Starve and Gorge: Sukuna Ryomen, a spawn of damnation and hunger, tears across the land of Japan from the moment of his birth. He lives a life of true and unique hedonism- cares for nothing but the pursuit of strength. And yet, when encountering a strange apothecary on the first day of spring, the King of Curses succumbs to that which he rejected before he could even understand it. His humanity.

- The Skeleton Lovers: You are the result of a cruel experiment that is praised and worshiped as the idol of an infamous cult known by the jujutsu society. Though, the circumstances of your creation were certainly less than ideal, your family loves who you will be very dearly. Isolated from the outside world, your only companions are the magic of a television screen and the ancient, angry being you share a body with.

(teasers)

- Gojo + Geto + Shoko

- Nanami + Utahime