eu0n1a

[eu0n1a]

i created a SCP-like file that combines THE BOYS with MHA, a file basically going through Izuku's time in the lab with a similar backstory to Homelander's.

https://youtu.be/Vlx2h_mnig8?si=GWigoGjkdNVeWOPt

[eu0n1a]

someone who can't experience sadness, guilt, shame...

just imagine if yandere pro hero deku was not allowed to feel any other emotion outside of...

joy

no matter what he does or what he experiences. joy is something that has always been an inescapable emotion.

being punished, scolded, or rejected, such high levels of dopamine don't allow his brain to consider them for what they are.

he is resilient: "that just means i need to try harder. it’ll feel even better when i win."

if he is happy, he assumes everything is right. since birth he had been born into this genetic condition. it took him a while to adapt to imitating other emotions.

and the people love him. he is so gentle. so kindhearted, so inspirational during times of uncertainty. unlike other heroes, his smile never wavers.

it especially doesn't waver when it comes to you. he absolutely adores you. you bring him the highest level of dopamine. your face, your voice, and your presence are all forms of dopamine stimuli. any kind of attention you provide, whether negative or positive, is good because it means you are focused on him.

as someone born with high levels of dopamine, you have nurtured something in him that pleads to be fed. a certain joy that he has not felt before, a joy that spikes, and he needs more of it. scream profanities, run away from him, or kiss him, they all equally make him fall deeper in love with you.

[eu0n1a]

what if #1 pro hero izuku is your #1 fan? inspired by @abbyfmc

he can't let you know that though, can he?

not yet, it's too soon. love needs care and time, he understands that, and izuku would never make you rush towards anything you wouldn't want. so he's patient.

follows you through a secret burner account. your vinyl records sheltered in his mansion. he's been an adoring fan for a while now.

he recalls listening to your music when he was just a little boy. it validated him. and it still does now.

"but there's nowhere to run when it comes to you

all my camouflage melts"

you're so sweet. those lines were for him, weren’t they?

his face flushes and his heart melts. it has to be about him.

it has to be about him! in that one interview you called him your favorite. so he's on your mind. so you like him, don't you? he loves you too.

once he finally gets enough time from his hero work, he shows up at a meet and greet. baggy sweater, even baggier sweatpants and a cap as an attempt to deviate from public attention. until he reveals his face when she autographs a shirt of his.

you look at him astonished and praise him, just as he expected it to go.

"can i get an autograph?" you laugh. of course you couldn't pass up in having your role model's signature. he signs your hand and before he leaves, he swiftly passes her a piece of paper. it has his phone number in it.

his heart leaps once you text him back a "hi". it's all going according to plan.

he lures you in with his sweet words. though one slip made him return to first base, a voicemail:

6/24/46

3:55 AM

"mmm…i got so lonely had to watch that old one again. that old interview? you have a nice laugh, the real one, not the one they trained you to do. it’s still stuck in my head.

you're stuck in my head.

i bought that wine you you love… it’s sweet, like you. been drinkin’ it slow, pretendin’ you're here with me.

especially in that dress. the one you were wearing today, red skirt, hair up, so fucking perfect i almost forgot i was supposed to stay hidden.

you're so cute."

[eu0n1a]

types of poem forms izuku wrote for you in his book during his UA years+explanation for how the poems work:

𓆩♡𓆪 cinquain:

╰pretty

sleeping beauty

you leave the door unlocked,

dark circles, i come at late hours

swiftly

: ̗̀➛context: line 1, 2 syllables➼line 2, 4 syllables➼line 3, 6 syllables➼line 4, 8 syllables➼line 5, 2 syllables

𓆩♡𓆪 haiku:

╰divine is your soul

overfills all the oceans

i hope to drown in

: ̗̀➛context: haiku contains three lines, the first and last contain five syllables, meanwhile the middle contains seven. it often centers an image only found in nature

𓆩♡𓆪 quatrain:

╰within me is a deep-rooted hatred

it refuses to seeth

if the person embracing me

is not your arms sacred

: ̗̀➛context: a set of four lines, often rhymed. a poem may contain one quatrain or a series of quatrains

𓆩♡𓆪 acrostic:

╰Bound to you

Overcontemplating my next move

Understanding why you look at them

Next time won't you look at me? Cherish me? Adore me?

Devotion shouldn't ache like this

Tender thoughts turn into violence

Only in silence I confess my hopes

Your breath makes me tremble

Over and over, in my mind, I rehearse where we will be

Until you fit my perfect image

: ̗̀➛context: starts with a word written vertically on a page, one letter per line. each letter is the beginning letter of the first word in a line of the poem. a line might be one word or an entire phrase

𓆩♡𓆪 diamante:

╰petal

gentle, delicate

beckoning, twirling, intoxicating

attracting life, repelling death

unfolding, breathing, fluttering

vibrant, lush

blossom

: ̗̀➛context: line 1, a noun. line 2, two words that describe line 1, line 3, three "ing" words that describe line 1. line 4, four nouns, two describe line one and two describe line 7, or how they relate. line 5, three "ing" words that describe line 7. line 6, two words that describe line 7. line 7, a noun.

---

follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

the calm before the storm—a yandere pro hero izuku short story

prompt: lethal seduction

2.3K words

(tw: intense g0r3)

Behind you came a maid. “Please don’t touch the flowers too much,” she moved your hand away, “I don’t want them to lose their order.”

The flowers would bloom, then revert to sheltering themselves each season. You walked around, barely touching them as you passed your hand among the petals. Some had a more delicate texture than others, but they were captivating all the same.

You smile, “Of course, I’m so childish, I just really love how soft they are.”

“Delicate too,” added the maid under her breath, eyes fixed on the gentle bend of your fingers.

Then you heard a voice call out to you: “Honey,” and as you turned, your heart skipped a beat. It seemed every time your eyes locked with those emerald ones, time instantly stopped. You rushed from the garden towards him, holding him in a tight embrace.

The maid watched from afar, her eyes lingering on the loving pair for longer than they should. The pots became overflowing with water, until she saw them disappear from her sight.

The sun was setting down, and you accompanied your husband with his shower. Cleanser. Toner. Essence. Eye cream. Serum. Moisturizer. Each step carefully applied on your face, a ritual of care he had grown used to watching. You were in your 30s; it was vital to maintain your skin nice and smooth, you would always say.

As you cradled together, the bed seemed to sink you in. You didn’t recall feeling tired, but something about being held, the crickets chirping—it felt just right. His strong arms held you loosely.

But as the night deepened, the space seemed to close in around you, and there would be no escape. His arms were like ropes that would not let you go, subconsciously in fear that anything could happen to you if you weren’t glued to him.

By four a.m., it was time to go. Working as the #1 Pro Hero meant placing others over himself—making the world a safer place for his wife to be in, for his future children to be in, didn’t it?

You woke up with him. You showered. You brushed your teeth. You applied cleanser. You applied toner. You applied serums. You applied eye cream. You applied moisturizer. You applied sunscreen.

Tamago kake gohan was served in a small bowl along with miso soup. Grilled salmon was in a separate dish, a fruit platter, and green tea for him. You had water, a 24 oz tumbler that you could never go without. You both thanked the personal chef before eating. Izuku always watched these details, every step and every sip. He had to; it was part of who he was.

“When are you coming back?” you asked, dreading the fact that he had to leave.

He responded unsure, “Hopefully not so late. I have meetings and things to review, but after that, I’ll be back home. Maybe 7 again?”

You helped him pack his things and gave him a tender kiss before he left out the door. The maid lingered in the kitchen, her eyes flicking to the door as it shut.

By breakfast, you drank half of your tumbler. The maid’s quiet presence felt different today—her movements more precise, her eyes softer. She watched you carefully, offering help that didn’t seem needed.

By 10 pm he was returning home. The lights were off; the housekeepers, cooks, gardeners, and all other workers must have left a while ago for the night. You must be sleeping by now, he thought. So, he turned the key and stepped inside with care. His heart leaped, eager to get into bed, to be cozy with his wife.

But then he stumbled on something that almost made him slip and fall. His heart lurched, but he maintained his balance. He took his phone, thumb trembling only once as he turned on the flash and kneeled down.

Your once clear skin, always so youthful, was shriveled. It clung to your bones like wax to a wick, dried and cracked. Your plump cheeks had hollowed, the soft meat beneath your skin vanished. Your lips, once so glossy and inviting, were now brittle and split; your eyes were sunken, crusted with dryness. Even your hair, once soft and flowing, was brittle, lifeless.

This couldn't be you.

He reached out, fingers brushing your arm—stiff, frozen, but unmistakably yours. The wedding ring glinted, your name etched within it, a testament of his undying love for you. The pearls you never had before, now so garish against your frail form, looked too large, too heavy for a body so empty.

He paused, the disbelief flickering in his mind, but disgust never surfaced. Gore was not new to him. Death was no stranger to him. But the beauty you treasured, the hours you spent tending to your skin, to your health—gone. That was what rattled him.

Too tranquil, too calm. His mouth stretched into the kind-hearted smile you used to love so much. His eyes, though, were glassy, hollow. A part of him refused to believe it, the other part already calculating what it meant.

He cradled you in his arms. "You know I love you, right? I’ll fix this. I promise." His voice was low, soft. The phone in his other hand. Calm fingers dialing the police.

The moon met eyes with Izuku until it was morning. Not a movement from his limbs, even his eyes did not dare to glide as he stared out from his bed. For any outsider, this may have appeared to be an image of a grieving husband in shock. But Izuku was never the one to wait on the sidelines. Already overanalyzing the situation since the moment he laid eyes on a body whose life was sucked to the very most.

"Are you alright, sir?" called out the maid. What kind of stupid question is that? But he nodded, as if meaning to shoo her away. He was already deeply infatuated with this case for distractions. There was a look of fixation reflected through his eyes. He needed to know more about the six w's and one h.

During this grieving time he paced more often, walking in between rooms. Up and down the stairs he would go. Returning to his office, seeking out recordings from surveillance cameras inside.

4-8 AM: You drank your first 16 oz of water from your tumbler bottle. After having breakfast with him in the kitchen, you went to bed. Then you went to exercise in the gym and afterwards showered. Regular.

10 AM-12 PM: You drank your second 16 oz of water from your tumbler bottle. You slept in a bit more, then turned on the television and crocheted. Then you had lunch. Regular.

3-5 PM: You drank your third 16 oz of water from your tumbler bottle. The house chef served you dinner.

You were meant to have finished your fourth 16 oz of water from your tumbler bottle, but that time never came. Rather, after returning from a late night swim in the pool, your body had shriveled. Your legs had weakened and you could barely hold yourself up as you struggled for air. It had all happened so quickly in front of that very same dining room you shared your last meal.

“Someone had to have done this,” he commented to the officers as he delivered the hard drive full of evidence.

Every day locked in his mansion was excruciating, a widowed leave all heroes were forced to abide by as to prevent any emotional altercations. One thing that would not pass his mind, however, was the common sighting of one of his maids, Mikiri. She always looked proper—delicate hands, hair tied in a bun. All of these attributes made her bland, something that could blend in the background. However, now she seemed to stick out among the rest.

"You should eat, sir," she provided him with more food and water. Her hands might have rested on his as she passed the small meals to him, lingering just a second too long. She would always find a way to touch him, though always subtle, and he caught on. She liked him, didn’t she? Of course she did—he could see the faint pink flush to her cheeks, the way her gaze never quite left his face. It was practically impossible to not fall for a man of his appearance and charming personality.

His lips had started shifting towards a subtle yet sweet smile. It was important to show kindness towards the people that have been kind to you, and Mikiri was nothing if not devoted in these last few days. Her touches were careful but deliberate, each glance a silent confession.

"She was a good woman, you'll surpass this. I believe in you, sir," she said, her voice softer, almost tender.

He remained quiet for merely a moment. "I failed her. I was supposed to protect her, especially with her being quirkless, and even then I failed."

She nodded, eyes bright. "I mean, I'm quirkless too, but I can't imagine what it was like for her."

"Really? I didn't know you were quirkless." He tilted his head slightly, a gentle curiosity flickering in his eyes. "You'll be safe on your way home?"

The maid nods, feeling a sense of warmth in her heart that he seemed to care for her well-being. The small smile he offered was so gentle—so sincere—it sent a little thrill through her.

By the time she left, the surveillance footage continued to play through his mind. Again and again he considered all factors. Nobody was in front of his wife during her time of death. However, Mikiri was the last person to leave. Sweet, Mikiri, the one that had stayed by his side for so long. And yet… something in her kindness felt almost too perfect. Too deliberate. His mind was already weaving a pattern, calculating the cracks beneath her soft-spoken words.

That night he spent his night investigating her history and she lied to him. She wasn’t as defenseless and quirkless as she wanted to come off as, she had a water-compulsion quirk, something that strengthened her role as a prime suspect.

The next evening, he caught her folding his clothes and smiled at her tenderly. “Skip that,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? It’s been so long since I’ve had dinner with anyone at all.”

Her heart practically skipped five beats—the #1 Pro Hero wanting to have dinner with her? It felt like a Christmas miracle, except…it was June.

The aroma of cooked seafood filled the air as they descended the stairs together. “Tonight,” he said, giving her a seat at the table, “we’re having unagi and sekihan. I thought it would be…tasteful, considering my wife’s passing.” He sat down across from her, and together they murmured their thanks for the food.

He took a delicate bite, his gaze never leaving hers. “I really am grateful for everything you’ve done since you started here. You took very good care of us—so loyal.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said breathlessly. “It’s an honor to serve you.”

A subtle rain began to tap against the windows. “I guess you won’t be watering those plants tonight,” he teased lightly. She laughed along with him, a small ripple of relief in her chest. Maybe this was what it felt like to be close to him, she thought.

They chattered back and forth, but it didn’t take long for his smile to fade. His lips began to quiver, eyes turning distant. The dinner had reminded him too much of her—of you. His voice wavered as he looked away. “I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing,” he said, tears slipping down his cheeks.

She reached out instinctively, but something felt wrong. Her hand barely lifted an inch before her fingers twitched and fell.

A metal chopstick clattered to the floor, followed by a soft thud. He didn’t flinch. “I really did love her, you know that,” he said, voice steady, eyes glassy. “No one will ever be able to fill the void she left in me.”

As she tried to speak, her lips barely parted. The numbness was spreading—arms like lead, face stiff and unresponsive. “Mmm…” Her voice was a muffled whimper. Panic flooded her mind.

He turned to her with a soft, almost apologetic smile. “I know, I know—not being able to move isn’t fun. But you’ll get used to it, just like she did.”

He rose from his chair, calmly stacking the plates in the sink. The gentle clink of porcelain and the soft patter of rain against the window were the only sounds that filled the room.

She realized then—there were no other staff tonight. He never washed the dishes. But tonight, he did. Tonight, the routine was broken.

An alarm sounded after one hour had passed. “There it is.” he turned it off and stood next to her as he smiled tenderly.

She sits there, her breath shallow, heart thundering against ribs she can’t even move. Her limbs, her lips—they’re heavy, distant. Only her eyes can move, darting from his back to the doorway, the sink, the looming bulk of his shoulders.

His rough hand grabbed her by the arm, by now she was completely unable to speak or move.

Then he pulled, dragging her body through the floors of the hallways. The cameras were off tonight, they were off ever since your death, so there were no eyes to tell her story. Down the stairs she went, the feeling of marble stairs rocking her as he took her to the basement, so there were no ears to share her story.

Her body all laid out in the ground.

“I’ll make you beautiful, just like you left her for me”

He kneels down and presses a hand to her shoulder. His fingers curl, and she feels the strength behind them, the strain in her bones as he presses down. A pop. A tearing sensation that she has no way of expressing her pain from. Her body had not permitted her to scream, kick, or squirm. Her eyes widened. The smell of iron—the scent of her own blood would soon not be a faint scent, but an evident one. The only thing he desired more than his wife at the moment was the colors of these walls painted in crimson.

Her pathetic attempts at begging for mercy are only exerted through whimpers.

His other hand cupped her cheek with such delicacy, “I have to do this for her, I hope you understand.” A feral, obsessive look in his eyes, nothing like the man that she had dinner with, the man that deceived her.

He doesn’t rush. He has all the time in the world to crush this low life’s body with his brute force. A man of 6’5 and 315 pounds of muscle had time to make this woman pay for her sins against you. There was no greater sin that he could compare to the idea of you being taken from him.

His other hand moves to her wrist—thick fingers encircling it entirely—and he twists, rotating until she hears the pop of dislocation. The numbness from the toxin can’t dull the way her bones shatter like porcelain beneath his grip.

He doesn’t even blink.

He leans closer, his breath warm on her cheek. “I know it hurts. I know,” he says softly, as if comforting a child. His other hand wraps around her other shoulder, fingers digging into the soft flesh and muscle.

With a calm exhale, he pulls her forward, then turns her body around and grasps her by the hair. Again. And again. Each time, the sound is mechanical—a wet sound of skull meeting cement.

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

Each action was filled with pure rage contrasting his numb emotionless expression.

This is him grieving.

Her forehead splits on the third impact. Even after death he continues to smash, break, and contort. There is no moment of pause coming from him and his breath is as steady as it was when he was cleaning the dishes. Heroes are war machines, so many people forget that, don’t they?

Once he stops, his whole body is covered in blood and bits of flesh.

He isn’t happy. He didn’t want anyone to be happy, especially not her. He did what he was meant to do for you, he owed you justice and so he delivered it. This is routine, what he has done and is meant to do, especially for you. You’re happy now, right? He’s loyal, he’s loving, he loves you so very much, never forget that.

(-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more)

[eu0n1a]

deeply in love with izuku's protectiveness

he's already seen so much. traumatized. the last thing he needs is for a villain to get their dirty pathetic hands on you.

so he keeps you safe, in the only place he knows, home

but even then, sometimes he wonders how he can make it more safe. sure, there are already cameras and guards surrounding your home, but sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough for you.

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

I got bored so I made a doodle of fine ass shawty

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

i like how intelligent izuku is

i feel that even after attaining his #1 pro hero title and literally saving the world, he still has this hunger to know more and understand the world better.

has an understanding over the stars, non-toxic berries and ways to find himself back in case he is lost stranded somewhere for any particular reason.

a deep understanding on all kinds of weapons and their models, the human anatomy

and most importantly, you of course, knows all your patterns, likes, and what keeps you up at night like the back of his hand.

being studious is the new hot

P.S. give me an ask cause im losing extra ideas while im writing a whole short gorey psychological thriller that might come out in a week or two so watch for that

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

I actually follow you for your MHA content. You actually make the show appealing on behalf on the fandom.

tysm I'm sorry if I came off as mean👉👈, highly appreciate u's

[eu0n1a]

I personally do not like yanderes. They are easily defeated due to their insanity and lack of combat prowess. They can even be evaded and incarcerated if blood is spilt by them. (That and there are better character archetypes from Japan)

U might have to unfollow cause that's all I post on my blog queen😦

[eu0n1a]

you push him to murder

it's all because of you

he wasn't like this before; it's all your fault

the pro-hero, the star who captured hearts internationally with his ever-glowing smile and sweet face.

his fibers may be strong, but his heart has become delicate, his mind riddled with dark feelings and emotions.

you turned him into a monster, awakened something that should have been buried sixty feet under.

he can't control himself, really—the punches, the tearing, the breaking, the kicking. it seems all of those dark emotions escape and rule his mind just for a fleeting moment.

that fleeting moment when you're in danger, that fleeting moment when you're targeted.

your screams, your wails, your tears; it pains him to hear them.

he's already heard enough tears and seen enough gore; he can't stand the idea of it trespassing into your untainted soul.

you don't deserve that.

your soul needs to be perfect, shielded, protected. that's what he was meant for. that's his true purpose.

so, as he leaves the traces of a villain unrecognizable, he makes them an example—an example to others as to why you aren't his weakness but his strength.

every act of violence is a testament of his love. you know that, right?

he needs to do it. you made him do this.

he's innocent. perfect. always.

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

the idea that it's your birthday and out of all the things yan izuku has got you, your focus is on the necklace of precious pearls.

"is it too tight?"

"no it's fine" you replied, as the necklace clung to your neck.

its much worse at night. where depending on your position you could feel the vibration of blood transiting through your carotid arteries.

but he's not home. it's so tight you can barely move it to find the lock. there's no one that can help unchain you from his favorite collar.

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

a yandere that falls into a depressive, murderous mood after a night at the movies.

everything seemed great until your family showed up after the movie.

he's so awkward feeling out of place.

might have a mental breakdown screaming and crying.

it hurts him to feel out of place in your world. like he doesn't belong, he only wanted it to be you two.

i like the idea of yanderes that have other mental health issues and you're just the trigger, the last stop before his breaking point when it's all too much.

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

absolutely adore yandere alien deku

just picture this, you're an astronaut that arrived with your team. the atmosphere humid, the landscape displaying the features of a rainforest.

as you collect data and samples, none of your teammates notice an alien, with a black fluid form shift and shimmer, slipping into the spaceship...

it's fluid form allows it to lurk and easily hide. it slowly feeds off of one of your teammates, attaching itself, consuming nutrients which help it access the DNA.

each day the teammate becomes weaker and weaker, while the creature becomes stronger and smarter. by sharing human DNA and accessing human memories it develops emotions. the feelings that teammate had for you now transferred into the alien.

slipping through the cracks, above the vents, watching and observing.

once on earth the alien transforms into a human. It can take on any form really, a shape shifting creature.

green eyes, green hair, freckled face, slanted eyes that had a feral look to them. even the way he moved was unnatural because of its fluidity. anyone could easily tell that there was something wrong with him. luckily his victims would never see him until it was too late.

his face splitting open into appendages.

but he would never let you see that part of him. no.

as much as he is dying for you to meet him, he needs to master his craft of becoming human.

so he watches you, the way you act, the way you speak, what you like, what you hate. nice home by the way. you're already teaching him so much.

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

I'm like in s5 episode 5 of YOU and my thoughts rn are the writers did that fr.

Staying tf away from spoilers and edits until I get to the end.

EVERYONE pls watch s1, s2, s3, (s4 doesn't exist), s5, it's so camp so fun

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

izuku is definitely way too polite

holds the door for u every time, even if you get the door for him first I feel like he'd be slightly annoyed that he couldn't do it for u first.

in a campus/school au he'll stay as late as you want to after school because really who needs to rush home if you're right here?

at first you're probably weirded out by how much he shows that he cares, that he wants to please you since your whole life you've been so deprived from love and affection.

it feels weird but nice. see it starts out nice. then it feels good. then you let him keep pushing. so when some rights of yours get taken away, like the ability to go outside, it's okay. of course, it's okay, he's so polite for taking care of you.

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more

[eu0n1a]

yandere izuku is home with a gift for you

a door creaks open, a whispering sigh, but you did not hear it, especially not from I

it is the moon's hour, all times for rest something the owl knows nothing of

the thuds were not of a leaf on autumn rather paws of an apex dragging their body after a long hunt the echoes sliced peace of quiet into thin dices

dim lights flicker those caused a rubbing of eyes those told you of his arrival it was eventual, expected a working man to arrive at such an hour

in the stillness, you feel him near, a weight on the bed that almost sunk you

your arms draped over his shoulders you allowed yourself to embrace him though just for a little bit those strong shoulders were boulders under the boulders flowed a streamy river

the river's water tainted you a water that offered no refreshment the pulse of your heart accelerating

behind you, around the outline of his eyes are embers this is no exaggeration, his eyes are the only guide to his space in the room

gore drips softly, a macabre art, now it is shared among you two

his body stale, yours trembled, you trace the path, it pierces your heart, was it you who beckoned this fate so grim?

his face is sprinkled in more than just freckles yet he smiled, speaking to you softly through the night a cold breeze passed through your smile because to him you were not the catalyst but the sun to his earth being his sun, he sent a sacrifice for you

-follow me on tiktok: @sunnytingz69 for ur fav character edits & help me hit 1K so i can livestream games, book streams, n more