#yandere mayhem massacre

[saikowatermelons]

Luna (after separation)

Luna was able to meet Eclipse when he traveled through kingdoms and was absolutely smitten with the man. The sheer lack of care and the way Eclipse didn’t bother to give him proper or healthy attention made Luna want more of Eclipse, made Luna want Eclipse to harm him more. He was obsessed with Eclipse’s negative attention while Eclipse could care less about Luna and just wanted to be left alone. It came  to a point where that sick, disgusting dream slowly shifted to a cry of attention for Eclipse, whether negative or positive, Luna just craved the attention. He needed Eclipse to do anything just so that he was able  to do something back. Luna is  usually a horrible person, he will never get better and he will never truly understand love as well as never care for a single person, however he had a strange fascination with Eclipse that made his adrenaline pump. Eclipse just existed as a random guy on the streets, peculiar, liked books, liked to be left alone, a freak  who had a weird obsession with eyes and trying to “see” the future and yet those traits are what Luna seems to take interest in because Eclipse was just weird, like Luna. Sometimes, Luna would even try to kill some animals or people to scrape their eyes out to give to Eclipse, however he would refuse, demanding Luna to leave since Eclipse never even loved Luna in the first place. Luna and his twin were similar on so many levels but none of them would ever acknowledge it due to their burning hatred for each other.

[tnsophiaonly]

Chat this might be peak writing‼️‼️

❝HE CARESSES MY FACE AND IT HURTS.❞

—-–-—⟩»⟩ Holding your hand with a tenderness that belies the arrogance etched into his every breath, you feel a surge of irritation rise, bitter and sharp, threatening to twist your lips into a scornful sneer. Yet, for all the exasperation he kindles within you, there is nothing you can do—nothing you dare do. For he is a prince, a radiant figure draped in privilege and power, while you are but a lowly sentinel of the gate, tethered to duty and shadow.

He has never been sound of mind, not truly. Perhaps it is a fissure in his very being, a fracture in the delicate architecture of his soul. One might think that the sharp collision of his head against unyielding stone could jar him into alignment with the rest of the world’s cadence. Yet no — such normalcy eludes him, as distant as a dream upon waking.

It is in the curve of his smile that his madness breathes. A hollow expression, bereft of warmth, for his lips may curl but his eyes remain void — vacant as the lifeless depths of a forgotten well. Those eyes, cold and unfeeling, harbor nothing but shadow, while his grin is a mockery of joy.

And then, his hands. Calloused and coarse, they grip you with an unrelenting firmness that sets your skin aflame with discomfort, as though it were woven of nettles. You yearn to break free, to recoil from the uncanny wrongness of his touch, yet some unnameable force binds you there. Your will falters beneath his grasp, and though every fiber of your being cries for escape, you cannot.

"Beloved, oh, my most cherished blossom, my radiant sunbeam," he murmurs, his tone a honeyed venom, cloying and treacherously sweet. "Pray, where hast thou wandered, little flower? Dost thou not know? Thou art mine alone to treasure, to hold. Tell me, wherefore hast thou strayed?"

His words drip with saccharine allure, yet they cling to the air like the rancid perfume of decay. The sound coils around you, a serpent of false tenderness, and you cannot restrain the flicker of revulsion. Your brow knits, your nostrils flare, a fleeting betrayal of your inner turmoil.

Shit. You swiftly master your expression, the trembling guise of innocence overtaking your visage—a doe caught in the thorns of peril. Soft and unbidden, your lips craft a deceit, honeyed and silken, to lull his fevered delusions into tranquil slumber. Before his tempestuous wrath awakens and rends you asunder, you weave words as delicate as gossamer threads:

"My radiant prince of the sun, dost thou truly believe my heart sways so easily, as though bewitched by thine own splendor? Forgive me, for I meant not to wound thy pride. Yet, pray, grant me this: mine eyes were ensnared by yonder blossoms, so fair they dare rival the gilded warmth of this day—a vision most perfect, though it pales, of course, before thee, my sovereign of light."

It is no truth you speak, but rather a sanctuary to flee—a refuge from the inescapable, a shadow to conceal yourself from the haunting brilliance of his emerald eyes. Eyes that are no mere windows to a soul, but abysses carved from the blackest depths of infernal torment, searing with a promise of ruin and despair.

His countenance split into a grin, a sharp curve of amusement etched upon his face, its edges cutting like the crescent moon against a midnight sky. There was satisfaction in the way his expression lingered—at least, you dared to hope. Then, like the brittle snap of ice beneath weight, a low chuckle escaped him, reverberating with a shadowed mirth that coiled in the air like smoke from a dying ember.

"My dearest, most loyal sentinel," his voice dripped with a silken malice, a predator’s purr beneath the guise of tenderness, "how generous thou art to weave for me such fair and gentle falsehoods—to keep mine heart entranced. Truly, thou art naught but a cunning little witch."

The words struck you like a blade cloaked in velvet, and your breath hitched as ice slithered down your spine. Of course, he had seen through you; how could he not? He was a master of discernment, a craftsman of manipulation, reading the soul’s secrets as one reads verses upon a page.

“But— I wouldst delight in thinking so, forsooth. Elsewise, I might hath stirred a touch of mischief,” quote he, a sly grin curling upon his lips, laughter spilling forth like a blade cloaked in silk.

Your heart, meanwhile, recoiled as unease stirred within you. For you didn't hope—no, pray—that his words bore naught but jest. This prince, though mercurial as the winds that whisper through forgotten ruins, was no harbinger of idle threats. He wielded his promises like a harpist’s strings, plucking at any reason, a melody of dread and deceit. And his eyes—void and fathomless—spoke not of jest but of a silence more terrifying than any spoken word.

"Fret not," quote he,

❝I'LL BE YOURS, AND YOU'LL BE MINE.❞

╰┈➤ adero x reader (randalia)

I'm sorry for bad English, English is not my first language.

╰⪼ this fic was inspired by @tnsophiaonly 's fic "You rise, I shatter" and checking out where the OC's where - I absolutely am smitten! Especially with Adero, so here's my first post in Tumblr, an appreciation to the under appreciated @saikowatermelons

I really am a huge fan of @tnsophiaonly , and she's basically my inspiration! Especially when I find out she's Filipino - that's amazing.

[tnsophiaonly]

'tis was for a friend, but also because I love adero a lot smh - ps randalia is Adero's actual canon lover (me when)

Cw: adero, death, implied murder, cuts, implications of yandere too, canonxcanon, ocxoc, this is from mayhem massacre -.oc's of @saikowatermelons , toxic behavior, forcing

An unnamed knight stood still out as a gate guard, nothing to really note.

Ever since getting scrapped by her creators that was supposed to be a maid, she was instead demoted to a gate guard.

She can't really say it doesn't hurt, but feeling hurts more than it should.

So she stays silent, the same tired, unblinking and blank eyes staring in the air. Until her eyes caught a glimpse of a bright light - so bright it might burn her eyes.

That hurts. She muses. It's as if the sun itself was walking. And there she takes note of his stature, an orange haired fella, with an attire she knows all too well - the sun kingdom.

Raise your sword, and slit the throats of those delusional bastards of the sun, may they dare get inside, it will be off with your head. That voice, same voice of her creator. Her only purpose.,

Her hand immediately grips the hilt of her sword, titling it ever so slightly to show her hostility, though her eyes don't bear the same hostility as her actions, such tranquil and stoic expression is enough to show that he's unwelcomed. But the boy remains still, unwavering.

“Leave.” That was the very first word she spoke to him, she could almost see the way his mouth curled into an opened ‘o’.

“Wow~! You're so weak — I can't help but be fazed.” he says, still keeping the same cheerful expression that does not reach his eyes at all, such emerald eyes glinting the wrong light.

“What’s your name?” He asks, stepping closer, unbothered by the sword pointed at his neck, as he even dares press his neck against the point of her sword, as his hand holds the sword, chipping it in the process and throwing it away. “I love your sweet welcome, it's been so long since I've had that!” He muses melodiously.

She stepped back, at least she thought she did. She stepped back because she felt overwhelmed.

She can't feel overwhelmed.

“So what's your name?” He asks again, she looks away, she was never named by her creator. She opens her mouth to speak, but is overall just silent.

He tilts his head, “Why so hesitant?” He holds her hand, grasping it with his rusty ones, he could almost feel how fragile she was, he wonders how would she feel if he just - broke it and shattered it to pieces.

Alas, he couldn't really bring himself to break her yet.

“I don't have a name.” She mutters the very first sentence she has told him. He almost looked bewildered, but she knew that he was just making his emotions exaggerated, “How could someone have no name? Don't you know that a name is one of the many things that makes a person?” He giggles.

“Unnamed knight fits you well, though!” He muses, “Well, you can call me Adero.”

Adero - well, he's just him. As the prince and a very beloved one - the king and queen thought it would be best he gets a guard, fearing for his safety.

How laughable, really.

He's better off doing all the guarding, as this guard is utterly useless, unable to do anything that could very much do what a guard is supposed to do, so weak that it almost makes him tear up. He could almost wish to tear the guy himself.

One day, whilst on the same adventurous hunt - his words, it was supposed to be a trading of neighboring towns and villages -, he was ambushed by bandits,

These bandits are of no threat, though, he could easily deal with them without a much if a flick to his wrist, alas the guard proved to himself to be more useless as he ran for reinforcements,

Wrong way.

The guard ran, he scoffed, useless.

After defeating the bandits, albeit with a little torture on the way to entertain him, he hoped to find the guard to end him himself, this guard was as useless, by a lot.

Till on his journey, he had to see a little gate on the way to the lower moon kingdom, oh?

And there stands a gate guard, looking tired as ever, as if she didn't even wanna be there, he could almost pity her, but he chose to laugh, another one to stain his sword, he supposed.

But his overall experience with you, just - everything.

He could feel his heart race, how… How interesting.

Welcoming him so warmly, when has he ever felt such warmth in a long time? Never really, but hey, it's poetic!

Maybe - just maybe - this boring life, has a little excitement that includes the lower moon kingdom.

Guess they finally had some use, huh?

He muses to himself.

Alas fate may just be the cruelest, as she just had to gain the attention of the notorious sun prince, maybe it was fate - or maybe it's just him.

Adero at the slightest is not sane nor humane. For someone so fragile as her, it's best she stays away, but something tells her to not go, to not do anything stupid and disobey him, he’s a prince! But he's from the sun kingdom, someone she shouldn't associate herself with! She's already had enough of a disappointment already, a mistake, a failure — she can't have herself become a traitor too.

Especially when this outrageous prince was as outrageous as his actions, asking her to go out, asking her to go bathe in the warmth of the sun, to lay in the grass, while he lays his head on her lap -

Holding his hand, willingly.

Laying in the grass, neglecting her duties as a gate guard, as Adero lays his head on her lap, wearing that same shit eating grin on his face, as she looked unfazed,

She has grown used to his antics.

“Randalia!” He calls out, she blinks, who?

“It’s so annoying to have to call you anything but a name, so I'll give ya one!” He says, laughing too, she could feel the sun getting warmer.

“Randalia," he says, “Your name hums like strings beneath moonlight, a melody woven from soft whispers and open skies.” He starts.

“You are the rhythm of gathered hearts, the pulse of stories told in plucked notes, dancing between silence and serenade.”

“You are the keeper of evenings, a chorus of stars cradled in gentle hands, a hymn for the unseen, a promise wrapped in music's embrace.”

“When I say your name, it’s as if the world pauses to listen — a song not yet sung but always known. Randalla, you are harmony, and you make me whole.”

She's silent. Wide unblinking eyes staring at his form, the sun is warmer again, “I didn't know you were such a bard.”

He chuckles, “I didn't know either, but I guess we find something we never expect ourselves to do when with people so unexpected!” He cheers.

The sun warms yet again, but so does her cheeks.

But cheer isn't really the right word for that.

Something that Adero has never expected, that she would actually be able to defy him.

After months of his pestering, he has always thought she'd just — let him be.

Because that's what she always does. Used to at least.

So why cry now? Why has her face cracked — why show such emotions now?

When he's almost concluded that she doesn't possess such things, when he's always thought of her as a doll.

Why cry now?

Is it because he's killed the very thing that keeps her face from cracking, that poor old crystal dragon that has always kept her face pristine - numb of any emotion.

Or perhaps she's crying for him? How - he's lost his leg? How much fear he's felt - such raw and unfiltered emotion felt from the feeling of almost dying?

He would honestly prefer that.

For her to cry for him instead.

She looked so pretty showing such human emotions, such emotions that made him want to break her further - to proceed to build it together again, just for him.

“Get away from me!”

Get away from her? How foolish. Not when he's seen such breathtaking emotions, such vulnerability that she's probably have never shown anyone

But him.

Yeah.

He'll make sure she makes him see more of this. Such emotion, that he felt his eyes water, so pretty.

Guess that little hunting expedition wasn't in vain.

Because the real treasure here is her.

When she saw tears fall from his eyes, she almost faltered. Lately, it's getting harder and harder to numb her emotions, that's bad.

She'll end up cracking if this continues.

She'll break.

Her whole entire life, she's never cried at all, so why is she crying now?

And why did she have to cry in front of him?

She could almost feel such disbelief, because Adero was crying, this heartless demon was crying.

Crying out of happiness.

He's in utter bliss, probably more glad than ever that she was crying, showing such emotion.

He loves her and she doesn't want him to.

What a cruel fate.

Never has love ever felt so horrible. Nor has it ever been so horrifying.

She wants him to go, go away, get away, go!

But he keeps on getting closer, insisting, pestering, forcing.

He swears he loves her, and she swore she hated him.

Never has she ever hated those hands, never has she hated ever having to be held by him.

The grass didn't feel relaxing, the air was tense, the sun was too hot, and her hand felt itchy.

Her eyes felt watery, her whole body felt horrible, at least she wasn't dead like that guy over there.

The same guy who has caused the permanent physical crack on her face, the same crack that led to Adero’s curiosity to flourish — if she could be broken more.

And Adero’s supposed guard.

She wished the guy had blinded her, maybe even ended her instead, at least she wouldn't be alive under Adero. But now — alas, the guy is dead.

And he's still here.

Adero is still here.

The sun would rise ever so above, mocking her, laughing at her for not pushing her sword further to his neck, mocking her for listening to him - as if she had any choice at all, mocking her for being the object of Adero’s supposed love.

And so, her face cracks again, as she feels her eyes water once more.

[wstofskin]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅

☠︎︎Hey my names Izzie

☠︎︎Biggest TCC gooner

☠︎︎She/her

☠︎︎Severly chronically online

☠︎︎I don't necessarily have a DNI just don't be a prick

☠︎︎I also have very weird humor(HIGHKEY BRAINROTTED😔)

☠︎︎I'm 16

☠︎︎I'm a HUGE gun nerd

☠︎︎I have Schizoaffective disorder, borderline personality disorder, Bulimia, and manic + euphoric episodes. I'm also a pyromaniac, kleptomaniac

☠︎︎Also TW⚠️ I'll probably be posting my SH at times

☠︎︎My hyperfixations include...True crime, Forensic science, Phsycology, criminology, games (class of 09, FNAF, yandere sim, Sally face, COD, RDR2, silent hill)

☠︎︎Zero day, Zero hour, elephant 2003, Terrfier, smile, Texas chainsaw massacre, house of 1000 corpses, May, black Christmas, 31, inside, M.O.M, pulp fiction, fight club, don't look away, the devils rejects

☠︎︎"Tcc dni" wait...idc

☠︎︎Yes I'm problematic DNI if u care

☠︎︎I LOOVE music‼️ Some bands I like are : KMFDM, nine inch nails, mcbushpig, butchers harem,, Slipknot, KORN, Nirvana, crystal castles, Pastel ghost, cannibal corpse, emperor, darkthrone, Linkin park, Avenged Sevenfold, type O negative, mayhem

☠︎︎My favorite cases are andrew blaze, Adam lanza, columbine, Richard ramirez, Ed gien, Ed kemper. I'm pretty fixated on those

☠︎︎I'm mainly on shblr, edblr, tccblr and more

୧ ‧₊˚ 🥩🦴 ⋅NATURAL SELECTION‼️

_________________________________________

Twitter: @Z0mb1e_11

Discord: smashed.pumpkin

Pinterest: Andrewfkcingblaze

Spotify: Neckro file

[saikowatermelons]

Lunar (after separation)

Lunar met a knight that she thought would get irritated by her attitude, and yet that knight was able to tolerate her. That knight being; SweetC. The two hit it off, despite SweetC being a bit skeptical due to Lunar being from the opposite kingdom, grew accustomed to her company and was able to provide constant support and care Lunar lacked. SweetC was able to shape Lunar’s mind up a bit, teaching her what’s right and wrong. Although Lunar wanted to do wrong, some things that SweetC told stuck to her. Over time, she started admiring SweetC for being there when no one was, started praising her, giving her full attention and making sure she was able to protect the knight that needed no protection. But SweetC let it be known that Lunar was dangerous and opposing her would cause irreversible damage to their “friendship”and also because SweetC didn’t want to leave since she genuinely wanted Lunar to grow as a person. Lunar however, seemed to get her entire life focused on the knight, treating her like a higher being and soon enough fell madly in love with SweetC. 

The knight, of course, was stunned and didn’t know what to do. She was a bit flustered but she knew that her duties were more prioritized than love. However, given the fact Lunar was obsessed with her and SweetC was her only company throughout her years, she needed to stay and give her proper attention even if sometimes Lunar would go to extreme lengths to show SweetC her love for her. SweetC still turns her down due to her duties and the circumstances they are put in, how taboo it is for a sun kingdom knight to date some delinquent moon kingdom criminal, however she guilty for doing so and yet Lunar doesn’t give up on trying to win her over, sometimes even doing SweetC’s job and killing wanted criminals for her  just for validation.

[mogai-sunflowers]

UPDATED LIST 🤪🤪🤪

sanguine, gothcute, scorn, network, internet, hack, spyware, hardware, software, tomb, cemetery, pandemic, epidemic, debonair, slay, slaughter, cyber, cybersecurity, cyberattack, cyberspace, assassin, massacre, website, data, vendetta, fury, slasher, crime, criminal, drone, heist, fugitive, nuclear, destroy, radiation, pixel, conspiracy, saint, sinner, cookie, warp, mindwarp, malice, meat, wound, cut, gash, vampire, vamp, starve, cannibal, carnival, circus, crazy, devour, dragon, witch, wizard, mage, magical, butch, twink, fag/faggot/faggy, trick, tricky, trickster, bone, finger, decompose, shocking, electrify, energy, wing, believe, beg, grim, gloom, it, fatal, greedy, weapon, interstellar, deadly, planetary, desperate, despair, hatred, goddess, medieval, mortal, immortal, clock, monarch, goth, punk, pain, dungeon, prison, labyrinth, dinosaur, dino, vindictive, psychedelic, captive, hostage, homicide, tyrant, arson, thief, acid, taunt, suicide, carcass, roadkill, scavenger, vulture, invisible, victory, loveless, heartless, turigirl, occult, poison, symbol, achillean, alive, masc, love, heart, jealousy, ace, spade, ripple, skeleton, goofy, fallen, skull, spy, fae, agent, deceit, elixir, potion, disgust, extraterrestrial, bloodsucker, library, archive, locust, break, drown, phobia, liar, vigilante, technology, maggot, lethal, disease, rogue, vermin, plague, alien, frog, rip, venom, toxic, birb, snek, button, crow, heathen, crown, thorn, abuse, murderous, devil, shriek, shrivel, scream, scar, diabolical, bury, funeral, anxiety, obsess, obsessive, depression, paranoia, paranoid, manipulate, martyr, blessing, trigger, sword, knight, mushroom, lesbian, sapphic, bisexual, pansexual, gay, chaotic, disdain, noodle, dreadful, nugget, hideous, gruesome, morbid, ghast, ghastly, ghoul, bomb, blooper, nevermore, awful, bloodlust, bloodthirsty, disaster, omen, horrid, hellish, loathe, nasty, petrifying, shiver, shudder, scandal, scandalous, threaten, terrifying, trauma, epiphany, ephemeral, illuminate, irenic, aesthetic, blade, bleed, bloody, amnesia, needle, syringe, harvest, killer, carve, eyestrain, strangle, struggle, suffer, suffocate, sick, sickness, guilty, fever, blame, rebellion, utopia, dystopia, idyllic, dirty, clean, cringe, cringy, delusion, delusional, hallucinate, vengeance, ravenous, vague, deathcute, violence, carnage, beyond, antihero, supervillain, forevermore, rage, rampage, rainbow, hostile, risk, enemy, bloodshot, bloodshed, wilt, moss, revenge, explode, cyborg, virus, malware, malevolent, malice, malicious, sacrilege, sacrilegious, blasphemy, heresy, pandemonium, mayhem, insomnia, quiver, biology, gnarled, condemn, contempt, castaway, drama, tech, biotech, cyberpunk, computer, bloodbath, electronic, machine, bionic, automaton, digital, byte, cybercrime, download, encryption, wifi, megabyte, terabyte, nanotech, medical, infrared, hybrid, laser, bamboozle, crestfallen, dwindle, melancholy, luminescent, hypnosis, incognito, kaleidoscope, nefarious, serpent, serpentine, onomatopoeia, zigzag, ubiquitous, serendipity, eudaemonia, nemesis, physics, lagoon, wavelength, mellifluous, oblivion, calamity, abracadabra, archipelago, renaissance, quintessential, tranquil, syzygy, clandestine, gibberish, goosebump, gossamer, heirloom, hodgepodge, hullabaloo, juxtaposition, maelstrom, lollapalooza, whirlpool, misanthropy, starstruck, moonstruck, thunderstruck, murmur, pseudonym, ricochet, boomerang, shenanigan, spellbinding, magnetic, telekinesis, superpower, toadstool, wallflower, whoop, woebegone, quibble, avarice, quaint, arcane, woozy, wonky, zoom, wit, wither, archaic, woe, ashen, wiggle, xylophone, azure, chasm, oracle, crooked, hush, yearn, zealot, mist, aghast, narc, vagabond, screech, beast, beastly, firestorm, yandere, carnal, carnivore, die, mercy, mirror, joker, mold, shark, scalpel, carnal, morgue, hook, bait, slice, hell, holy, dissect, insect, clue, fester, squirm, infect, infection, beware, fungus, exodus, warning, mission, plot, supernatural, ectoplasm, afterlife, doomsday, extinction, footprint, leviathan, gargantuan, armageddon, surgeon, surgery, forensic, bloodhound, hellbound, hellhole, anatomy, butcher, graveyard, carnivore, razor, sneaky, rotten, poltargeist, shatter, apathy, deception, sadistic, corpse, control, thriller, reaper, classified, sensual, sex, mister, gentleman, corvid, nucleus, agony, stab, cryptic, sleuth, stench, hellhound, paranormal, experiment, multiverse, universe, cruel, expire, necromancy, necromancer, masochist, password, eyeball, decipher, warfare, oddball, hypothesis, cold-blooded, barbarian, invader, zelda, zugzwang, zebulon, zenith, omniscient, harbinger, grave, dead, doll, dolly, hex, hoax, brutal, brute, video, wormhole, tesseract, timekeeper, steampunk, clockpunk, genius, icepunk, solarpunk, lunarpunk, rabit, rocket, rocketship, giant, beloved, stealthy, killer, security, corruption, bunnyboy, hopeless, amatopunk, alterhuman, breach, tragedy, starcrossed, rosboy, primal, lover, emo, titan, primordial, spaceship, satellite, shame, mastermind, mythology, virtue, ruthless, bloodsoaked, worship, peasant, depraved, bloodstained, dagger, divergent, flutterby, sanctity, catastrophe, sacrifice, animalistic, ddatabase, cauldron, cackle, abyss, astral, ritual, inferno, gallow, feline, disgrace, immorality, superstition, possessed, undead, morality, merciless, miserable, macabre, cadaver, chainsaw, bloodcurdling, contamination, quarantine, suspense, folklore, rancid, fiend, vice, panic, fright, crypt, warlock, wretch, wretched, moth, wraith, mildew, satanic, coffin, casket, sorcery, genderqueer, transmasc, transfem, literature, book, sea, empyrean, claw

@benshapirosgaylover​ @keoniimagic

@epikulupu since y’all do a bunch of lexic gendies i wanted to tag y’all and ask if any of these are in y’alls queue/drafts already so i don’t do any accidental recoins 

current list of the lexic gendies im working on- feel free to send in lexic requests!

scorn, network, internet, hack, spyware, software, tomb, cemetery, pandemic, epidemic, debonair, slay, slaughter, cyber, cybersecurity, cyberspace, assassin, massacre, website, data, vendetta, fury, slasher, crime, criminal, drone, heist, fugitive, nuclear, destroy, radiation, pixel, conspiracy, saint, sinner, cookie, warp, mindwarp, malice, meat, wound, cut, gash, vampire, starve, cannibal, carnival, circus, creature, crazy, devour, dragon, witch, wizard, mage, magical, butch, twink, fag, faggot, faggy, trick, tricky, trickster, honeypie, bone, finger, decompose, shocking, electrify, wing, believe, beg, grim, gloom, it, fatal, greedy, weapon, interstellar, deadly, planetary, desperate, hatred, goddess, medieval, mortal, immortal, clock, monarch, goth, punk, pain, dungeon, prison, labyrinth, dinosaur, vindictive, psychedelic, captive, hostage, homicide, tyrant, arson, thief, acid, taunt, suicide, carcass, roadkill, scavenger, vulture, invisible, victory, loveless, heartless, turigirl, occult, poison, symbol, achillean, alive, masc, love, heart, jealousy, ace, aro, spade, ripple, skeleton, goofy, fallen, skull, spy, fae, agent, deceit, elixir, potion, disgust, extraterrestrial, bloodsucker, library, archive, locust, break, drown, phobia, liar, vigilante, technology, maggot, lethal, disease, rogue, vermin, plague, alien, frog, rip, venom, toxic, birb, snek, button, crow, heathen, crown, thorn, abuse, murderous, devil, shriek, shrivel, scream, scar, diabolical, bury, funeral, anxiety, obsession, depression, paranoia, paranoid, manipulate, martyr, blessing, trigger, sword, knight, mushroom, lesbian, sapphic, bisexual, pansexual, gay, villainous, chaotic, villain, disdain, noodle, dreadful, nugget, hideous, gruesome, morbid, ghast, ghastly, ghoul, bomb, blooper, nevermore, awful, bloodlust, bloodthirsty, disaster, omen, horrid, hellish, loathe, nasty, petrifying, shiver, shudder, scandal, scandalous, threaten, terrifying, trauma, epiphany, ephemeral, illuminate, irenic, aesthetic, blade, bleed, bloody, amnesia, needle, syringe, harvest, killer, carve, eyestrain, strangle, struggle, suffer, suffocate, sickness, guilty, fever, blame, rebellion, utopia, dystopia, idyllic, dirty, clean, cringe, cringy, delusion, delusional, hallucinate, vengeance, ravenous, beast, beastly, vague, deathcute, violence, carnage, beyond, antihero, supervillain, forevermore, rage, rampage, rainbow, hostile, risk, enemy, bloodshot, bloodshed, revenge, explode, cyborg, virus, malware, malevolent, malice, malicious

[saikowatermelons]

MERRY CHRISTMASSS!!!

-Adero n Randalia ❤

[saikowatermelons]

"Take a Slice"-Glass Animals

[anonnimous1]

❝WHERE SHADOWS CLING TO LIGHT❞

⌗ -⪼ Kyofusho, a shadowed and tormented soul, finding solace and obsession in the light of the merchant's —your— kindness. It acts as both a statement of their bond and a poetic reflection of the tragedy that threads through the universe.

—–-–-—⟩»⟩ In the dusky amber of twilight, where the horizon bled into shades of violet and gold, a solitary figure wove through the cobblestone alleys of an ancient marketplace. The air was thick with the scent of sun-warmed spices and the faint, distant melody of a minstrel's lute. This was no place for shadows, and yet Kyofusho moved like one—a specter unnoticed in the bustling crowd. His cloak, tattered and frayed, billowed behind him, a phantom in the light of day.

He was no stranger to hunger, its gnawing ache a constant companion since the days he first woke in a world that had long since cast him out. A child, reborn and forsaken, with the memory of a name—Kyofusho, Nightmare—but nothing more. His hollow, pitch-black eyes, void of pupils, mirrored the emptiness that clawed at his soul. They whispered of otherness, of monstrosity, and the world, in its cruelty, had responded in kind.

Today, hunger drove him again, a relentless torment that urged his hands toward forbidden acts. The stalls brimming with ripe fruit and glimmering trinkets called to him, their abundance mocking his scarcity. Yet, his target was not a bauble or a loaf of bread but something far more alluring: a merchant whose wares gleamed with the promise of plenty, their presence radiating a peculiar warmth through the cold indifference of the crowd.

You.

Your stall was a modest haven amidst the opulence of the market. The cloth canopy above you rippled in the gentle breeze, casting dappled sunlight upon your wares. Handmade goods, carved with precision and care, lay neatly arranged, each a testament to your craftsmanship. There was a softness in your demeanor, an open kindness that drew people to you. You spoke with warmth, your voice a melody that seemed to calm the restless hearts of all who approached.

Kyofusho watched from the shadows, his gaunt figure pressed against the cool stone of a nearby wall. He had chosen you as his mark, but as he observed, he found himself hesitating. The lines of your face, the gentleness of your movements, they stirred something unfamiliar within him—a longing not for sustenance but for understanding. Still, desperation was a cruel taskmaster, and so, steeling himself, he moved.

In a blur, his hand darted toward your stall, fingers brushing against the edge of a cloth pouch heavy with coin. But you, sharp-eyed and perceptive, caught the motion. Your hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising strength.

“Halt,” you said, your tone firm but devoid of malice. The single word hung in the air, an invocation of stillness.

Kyofusho’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to fracture. He expected scorn, anger, or fear, but your eyes held none of these. Instead, they reflected something alien to him: compassion.

“Thou art hungry,” you murmured, your voice low, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “Why dost thou steal, stranger? Speak thy troubles, for the world may yet offer thee reprieve.”

The old tongue, the cadence of your words, struck him like a thunderclap. He had heard it before, in fragments of dreams long forgotten. His mouth opened, dry and trembling, but no sound emerged. Shame gripped him, its icy fingers tightening around his throat. What could he say? That the world had marked him as its enemy before he had ever drawn breath?

You released his wrist, stepping back, and to his utter astonishment, you offered him a small loaf of bread. “Take this,” you said, your tone softening. “And shouldst thou need more, return not as a thief, but as one in need.”

He took the bread with trembling hands, his blackened eyes searching your face for some sign of mockery, but finding none. In that moment, something fractured within him—a dam holding back years of bitterness and despair. He turned and fled, the bread clutched tightly to his chest, but your voice lingered in his mind like the fading notes of a song.

Kyofusho returned the next day, drawn not by hunger but by something far more consuming. He lingered at the edges of the market, watching as you worked, your presence a light he could not look away from. Days turned to weeks, and though he never approached, he became a constant shadow in your life, his gaze always seeking you out. He began to understand the rhythm of your days, the small habits that marked your routine. The way you hummed as you arranged your wares, the way your lips curved into a soft smile when a child tugged at your sleeve.

But with this growing attachment came a gnawing fear, a voice in the back of his mind that whispered of inevitability. You will ruin this, as you ruin all things. They will see you for what you are, and they will turn away.

One evening, as the market emptied and the sky turned to ink, he found the courage to approach. You were closing your stall, the light of a single lantern casting a warm glow over your figure. He stepped into the circle of light, his presence a jarring contrast to the warmth.

“Thou return’st,” you said, your tone neither surprised nor fearful. “Hast thou come to speak thy truths?”

Kyofusho’s voice, hoarse from disuse, rasped like the wind through dead leaves. “Why dost thou not fear me?”

Your brow furrowed, and you tilted your head, as though considering his question. “Fear is oft born of ignorance. But thou art no stranger to me now. I see thee, not as others see. Thou art… lost, aye, but not wicked.”

The words struck him like a blow. He wanted to believe you, to let your kindness wash over him and erode the walls he had built. But the years of scorn, the names, the torches and ropes, they loomed large in his memory.

“I am a monster,” he whispered, the words tasting of ash. “I bring ruin to all I touch.”

“Thou art what thou choosest to be,” you replied, stepping closer. Your hand, warm and steady, reached out to touch his arm. “And I see in thee a soul yearning for more than this darkness.”

The warmth of your touch burned against his skin, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of tears. He fell to his knees before you, his gaunt frame wracked with sobs. You knelt beside him, saying nothing, only offering your presence.

But the world is not kind to monsters, nor to those who dare love them. Word of Kyofusho’s presence in the market soon spread, and with it, the whispers of fear. The knights came, their shining armor a stark contrast to the grim reality of their intent. You tried to protect him, to speak on his behalf, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

They bound him in ropes, silencing his protests, and dragged him away. But even as they took him, his void-like eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not fear but a promise—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kyofusho would return. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more tragic, far more dangerous. He was a man who had tasted the warmth of your kindness, and in doing so, had become utterly, irrevocably yours.

- The prison walls were as cold and unyielding as the world that had condemned him. Days blurred into nights, and Kyofusho sat in the shadows of his cell, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. Your face, your voice, the way your hand had lingered on his arm as if he were not an abomination—these memories burned brighter than the dim torchlight that flickered outside his door.

He whispered your name in the darkness, the syllables a prayer and a curse. You had given him something he had never dared to dream of: hope. And now, in the confines of this cage, that hope twisted into something darker, more desperate. The world had taken everything from him, but it would not take you.

“I will return to thee,” he murmured, his voice a vow carried on the wings of the night. “Even if I must rend the heavens and the earth asunder, I shall find thee once more.”

Meanwhile, you could not rest. The sight of him being dragged away haunted your every waking moment. The market, once a place of joy and connection, now felt hollow without his shadow lingering on its edges. You found yourself wandering the paths he had once tread, searching for traces of him in the quiet night.

- The marketplace felt barren, as though the vibrancy of its colors had been stolen away with Kyofusho’s absence. The days passed in a haze, each one bleeding into the next, until you could no longer bear the weight of your inaction. Your heart was a restless tide, surging with the need to make amends for your failure to protect him.

You began asking questions in hushed tones, seeking any information about where they had taken him. The guards’ gazes turned suspicious, the merchants whispered behind your back, but you cared not. The world might see you as foolish for aiding a man like him, but they did not understand. They had not seen the anguish in his eyes, the way he clung to the fragments of humanity that remained within him.

Finally, your persistence bore fruit. A sympathetic stablehand, who had overheard the guards speaking, whispered to you of a fortress far beyond the hills. It was a place where the unwanted were sent, a prison for those deemed unfit for the light of day. You knew the journey would be perilous, but the thought of leaving Kyofusho to rot in that desolate place filled you with a resolve stronger than fear.

The fortress loomed before you, a monolith of stone and shadow. Its jagged spires pierced the heavens, and the air around it seemed heavy, suffused with despair. You had traveled for days, your body weary but your determination unshaken. Clutching a satchel of provisions and a heart full of hope, you approached the gate.

The guards stationed there eyed you with suspicion. “State thy business, traveler,” one of them barked, his voice sharp and unyielding.

You drew a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I come to visit a prisoner,” you replied, your tone steady despite the fear coiling in your chest. “A man named Kyofusho.”

The guard frowned, exchanging a glance with his companion. “The void-eyed thief? What business hast thou with such a wretch?”

“He is a friend,” you said simply, meeting the guard’s gaze. There was no point in crafting elaborate lies; the truth was your only weapon.

After a moment’s hesitation, the guard waved you through. “Thou art allowed entry, but beware. Monsters oft bring ruin to those who care for them.”

› The prison’s interior was even more oppressive than its exterior. The air was damp and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and despair. Chains rattled faintly in the distance, a discordant symphony that set your nerves on edge. A warden led you through the labyrinthine corridors, his lantern casting flickering shadows on the walls.

“He is dangerous,” the warden warned, his voice low. “Many have tried to tame beasts like him. None have succeeded.”

“I seek not to tame him,” you replied, your words firm. “Only to remind him that he is not alone.”

The warden said nothing more, but his skeptical glance spoke volumes. Finally, he stopped before a heavy iron door. Producing a key from his belt, he unlocked it with a grating screech and gestured for you to enter.

Kyofusho sat in the far corner of the cell, his frame hunched and gaunt. The dim light revealed the bruises that marred his skin, a testament to the cruelty he had endured. His hands were bound, his movements restricted by chains that clinked softly as he shifted. But it was his eyes that broke your heart the most. Those pitch-black orbs, once filled with a flicker of defiance, now seemed hollow, as though the darkness within them had consumed him entirely.

“Kyofusho,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head slowly, and for a moment, he stared at you as though you were a ghost. Then his lips parted, his voice a rasp barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “Why hast thou come?”

You stepped closer, kneeling before him so that your faces were level. “I could not leave thee here. Not like this.”

His laughter was bitter, a sound that cut through you like a blade. “Thou art a fool. Dost thou not see? This is where I belong. The world hath no place for monsters such as I.”

“Thou art no monster,” you said fiercely, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but you did not pull away. “Thou hast suffered, aye, but suffering doth not define thee. There is more to thee than pain.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours. Then, as though a dam had broken, the words spilled from him in a torrent. He spoke of his torment, of the chains that bound not just his body but his very soul. Of the voices that whispered to him in the dark, telling him he was unworthy of kindness, of love. Tears streamed down his face, and he trembled beneath the weight of his anguish.

You listened, your heart breaking with every word. And when he could speak no more, you pulled him into an embrace, holding him as though your arms alone could shield him from the world’s cruelty. “I see thee, Kyofusho,” you whispered. “And I shall not turn away.”

› That night, as the fortress slumbered, you made your decision. You would not leave without him. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more precious. He was a soul who had been battered by the tides of fate, a man who had endured so much and yet still clung to the fragile hope that someone might see the humanity within him.

The path ahead would not be easy. You would face dangers, betrayals, and hardships untold. But as you looked into Kyofusho’s eyes, now glimmering with the faintest spark of hope, you knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You would face the darkness together, you both thought, such an idea swirling within the depths of your mind, but Kyo - Kyofusho,

❝I'LL MAKE SURE OF THAT.❞

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑

‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

╰┈➤ kyofusho (Kyo) x reader

╰⪼ yet again, my deepest apologies if my English doesn't harbor such mastery as some authors do, English isn't my first language! And so - I am absolutely elated to find out that my favorite author has noticed me! @tnsophiaonly I hope that you aren't bothered by this at all!

And @saikowatermelons I am so delighted to find more OCs! It's amazing! And very interesting, I wish to be an active participant of this little fanfiction! Also seeing Adero's appearance has some what gave me motivation to do some art, if you don't mind! That saying - enough adero, kyofusho is actually quite interesting! He has the most potential of being a really tragic yandere! This one isn't really a drabble, but instead a full on fanfiction, I hope I did well, sorry it's not that long.

[saikowatermelons]

SOBBING AAAAAAA JSJDNDJDNDJDNDKDBDJDBSBDSJ

❝BOUND BY POISON AND STAR❞

╰┈➤ A cursed knight and a spectral wanderer, drawn together in a forest veiled by mist. Bound by love that defies the mortal world, they embrace a monstrous transformation beneath the stars.

—–-–-—⟩»⟩ The forest whispered its ancient secrets to the night as moonlight spilled through the tangled embrace of oak and ivy. A chill mist wound itself between the trees, a gossamer veil through which the stars watched in silent judgment. SweetC walked these paths, her armor dulled from the battles of yesteryear, her poisoned veins singing a quiet lament beneath her skin. Each step was a defiance of fate, a rebellion against the slow death that had been written into her blood. The Fleur de bleau's curse was her constant companion, an unseen specter, yet she bore it with the quiet dignity of a knight—a knight who was now cast from the courts she once served.

This place was neither home nor haven. It was a shadowed sanctuary, a hiding place for her wounds, both seen and unseen. She had left the world of men behind, their cruelty too familiar, their betrayals a well-worn song. The memories of firelight and angry voices—"Witch! Monster!" they had screamed—echoed in her mind as she moved deeper into the woods. SweetC’s hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her sword, a talisman against the nightmares.

Tonight, the air felt different. Charged. Alive. The world seemed to hold its breath as she ventured toward the clearing ahead. It was there she first saw you.

A figure loomed in the mist, not monstrous as the tales would have her believe, but ethereal and serene. Your form was lean and angular, clothed in a simple dark cloak that fluttered like raven wings in the breeze. Two pinpricks of light glimmered where eyes should have been, and your smile was a crescent moon etched onto bone.

“Who goes there?” Her voice was steady, but the weight of her sword felt heavier than usual.

You tilted your head, the gesture curious, almost playful. “Peace, fair knight,” you said, your voice a low, velvety murmur that carried the cadence of mortal speech. “I mean thee no harm.”

“Few can claim such words and mean them,” she replied, the tension in her shoulders unyielding. “What art thou?”

You chuckled, the sound of a quiet rattle that sent a shiver through her spine. “[Name], if thou must know. But what I am? A question most curious. Let us simply say… a wanderer, like thee.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wanderers do not often dwell in such depths. What dost thou seek in these woods?”

“A kindred soul, mayhap.” You stepped closer, the mist parting around you like a curtain. “And thee?”

“Solitude,” she said curtly, though the answer felt hollow even as it left her lips.

You regarded her for a long moment, your gaze unyielding yet devoid of malice. “Then perhaps we are not so different, thou and I. Both chased from the world of men. Both carrying wounds that do not heal.”

Your words settled into the air, heavy with a truth she could not deny. SweetC hesitated, her fingers loosening on the hilt of her sword. “What dost thou know of wounds?”

“More than thou could fathom, fair knight,” you replied softly. “But pray, let us not trade sorrows here. The night is cold, and company warms the spirit. Wouldst thou share it with me?”

Her instincts screamed against it, yet something about you—your quiet confidence, your otherworldly presence—drew her closer. Against her better judgment, she nodded. “But only for a while.”

Thus began a companionship that should never have been. Their conversations wove themselves through the nights that followed, each one peeling back layers of fear and mistrust. SweetC learned of your humor, dry and biting as winter wind, and your surprising gentleness, a balm to the raw edges of her heart. You spoke of worlds beyond her understanding, of stars that wept and timelines that frayed like old tapestries. And she, in turn, shared her story—of curses and kingdoms, of betrayals and burning stakes like a witch.

To you, SweetC was not the monster humanity had named her. She was a paradox: hardened steel and fragile glass, a knight whose heart still dared to hope. To SweetC, you were unlike any monster she had been taught to fear. You were neither cruel nor savage but enigmatic and kind, with a depth that both terrified and captivated her.

Your bond deepened, and SweetC found herself drawn to you in ways she could not explain. Her duties as a knight, once the axis upon which her world turned, began to feel like chains. She longed for the quiet of the forest, for the nights spent in your company. Each encounter left her craving more, until she was stealing moments from her responsibilities just to be near you.

It was subtle at first, her dereliction of duty. A missed patrol here, a delayed report there. But as her feelings for you grew, so too did her neglect. The court whispered of her waning focus, but SweetC paid them no mind. She had found something—someone—worth more than the approval of a world that had always scorned her.

“Thou art changed, SweetC,” You observed one night as you guys sat by a fire she had kindled. “Thy heart beats a new rhythm, one that drowns out all else.”

She turned to you, her eyes alight with a fervor that bordered on madness. “It is thee who hath wrought this change, [Name]. Thou hast shown me a kindness I never thought to know. How could I not cleave to thee?”

Your smile faltered, a shadow passing over your luminous eyes. “And if the world should turn against thee for it? What then?”

“Let it,” she said fiercely. “I care not for their scorn. I would leave it all behind for thee.”

The words were a confession, and they bound her to you as surely as chains. You reached out, your rough hand brushing her cheek. It was a tender gesture, yet it carried the weight of something far darker.

“Then thou shalt have me,” you murmured. “But know this, 'C: love is not without its price.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with devotion. “I would pay it a thousandfold.”

As the days turned to weeks, SweetC’s transformation became undeniable. The poison in her blood, once a curse, now seemed to fuel her. Her magic grew wilder, more potent, until it mirrored the chaos of her emotions. She abandoned her duties entirely, retreating into the forest to be with you. Together, you both crafted a world of their own, one where the judgments of men held no sway.

But love, as you had warned, demanded a price. SweetC’s humanity began to slip away, her body reshaped by the poison that coursed through her veins and the magic that you had awakened within her. Her skin took on an otherworldly hue, her eyes glimmered with an unearthly light, and her voice carried a resonance that was both beautiful and terrifying.

On the night of her final transformation, you held her as she writhed in pain, your grip both comforting and unyielding. “Fear not, my love,” you whispered. “Thou art becoming what thou were always meant to be.”

When the pain subsided, SweetC rose, no longer the knight she had once been. She was a creature of the night, a being forged of poison and love, her humanity traded for the chance to stand beside you. You smiled, you own features softening as you gazed at her.

“Now, we are truly one,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

SweetC took your hand, her eyes shining with a love that bordered on obsession. “Forever,” she vowed.

And in the quiet of the forest, beneath a canopy of stars, you both embraced your monstrous love, bound by a devotion that defied the heavens and the earth alike.

❝I LOVE YOU.❞

╰┈➤ sweetc x reader (sans)

╰⪼ it didn't really turn out the way I wanted it! If so, I expect mistakes, ahh, my deepest apologies! I was busy with school work in school, as I am a mere high school student, so forgive me! That said, my apologies for my bad English, as I don't possess the same tongue as fluent English speakers do.ᐟ

[anonnimous1]

❝HE CARESSES MY FACE AND IT HURTS.❞

—-–-—⟩»⟩ Holding your hand with a tenderness that belies the arrogance etched into his every breath, you feel a surge of irritation rise, bitter and sharp, threatening to twist your lips into a scornful sneer. Yet, for all the exasperation he kindles within you, there is nothing you can do—nothing you dare do. For he is a prince, a radiant figure draped in privilege and power, while you are but a lowly sentinel of the gate, tethered to duty and shadow.

He has never been sound of mind, not truly. Perhaps it is a fissure in his very being, a fracture in the delicate architecture of his soul. One might think that the sharp collision of his head against unyielding stone could jar him into alignment with the rest of the world’s cadence. Yet no — such normalcy eludes him, as distant as a dream upon waking.

It is in the curve of his smile that his madness breathes. A hollow expression, bereft of warmth, for his lips may curl but his eyes remain void — vacant as the lifeless depths of a forgotten well. Those eyes, cold and unfeeling, harbor nothing but shadow, while his grin is a mockery of joy.

And then, his hands. Calloused and coarse, they grip you with an unrelenting firmness that sets your skin aflame with discomfort, as though it were woven of nettles. You yearn to break free, to recoil from the uncanny wrongness of his touch, yet some unnameable force binds you there. Your will falters beneath his grasp, and though every fiber of your being cries for escape, you cannot.

"Beloved, oh, my most cherished blossom, my radiant sunbeam," he murmurs, his tone a honeyed venom, cloying and treacherously sweet. "Pray, where hast thou wandered, little flower? Dost thou not know? Thou art mine alone to treasure, to hold. Tell me, wherefore hast thou strayed?"

His words drip with saccharine allure, yet they cling to the air like the rancid perfume of decay. The sound coils around you, a serpent of false tenderness, and you cannot restrain the flicker of revulsion. Your brow knits, your nostrils flare, a fleeting betrayal of your inner turmoil.

Shit. You swiftly master your expression, the trembling guise of innocence overtaking your visage—a doe caught in the thorns of peril. Soft and unbidden, your lips craft a deceit, honeyed and silken, to lull his fevered delusions into tranquil slumber. Before his tempestuous wrath awakens and rends you asunder, you weave words as delicate as gossamer threads:

"My radiant prince of the sun, dost thou truly believe my heart sways so easily, as though bewitched by thine own splendor? Forgive me, for I meant not to wound thy pride. Yet, pray, grant me this: mine eyes were ensnared by yonder blossoms, so fair they dare rival the gilded warmth of this day—a vision most perfect, though it pales, of course, before thee, my sovereign of light."

It is no truth you speak, but rather a sanctuary to flee—a refuge from the inescapable, a shadow to conceal yourself from the haunting brilliance of his emerald eyes. Eyes that are no mere windows to a soul, but abysses carved from the blackest depths of infernal torment, searing with a promise of ruin and despair.

His countenance split into a grin, a sharp curve of amusement etched upon his face, its edges cutting like the crescent moon against a midnight sky. There was satisfaction in the way his expression lingered—at least, you dared to hope. Then, like the brittle snap of ice beneath weight, a low chuckle escaped him, reverberating with a shadowed mirth that coiled in the air like smoke from a dying ember.

"My dearest, most loyal sentinel," his voice dripped with a silken malice, a predator’s purr beneath the guise of tenderness, "how generous thou art to weave for me such fair and gentle falsehoods—to keep mine heart entranced. Truly, thou art naught but a cunning little witch."

The words struck you like a blade cloaked in velvet, and your breath hitched as ice slithered down your spine. Of course, he had seen through you; how could he not? He was a master of discernment, a craftsman of manipulation, reading the soul’s secrets as one reads verses upon a page.

“But— I wouldst delight in thinking so, forsooth. Elsewise, I might hath stirred a touch of mischief,” quote he, a sly grin curling upon his lips, laughter spilling forth like a blade cloaked in silk.

Your heart, meanwhile, recoiled as unease stirred within you. For you didn't hope—no, pray—that his words bore naught but jest. This prince, though mercurial as the winds that whisper through forgotten ruins, was no harbinger of idle threats. He wielded his promises like a harpist’s strings, plucking at any reason, a melody of dread and deceit. And his eyes—void and fathomless—spoke not of jest but of a silence more terrifying than any spoken word.

"Fret not," quote he,

❝I'LL BE YOURS, AND YOU'LL BE MINE.❞

╰┈➤ adero x reader (randalia)

I'm sorry for bad English, English is not my first language.

╰⪼ this fic was inspired by @tnsophiaonly 's fic "You rise, I shatter" and checking out where the OC's where - I absolutely am smitten! Especially with Adero, so here's my first post in Tumblr, an appreciation to the under appreciated @saikowatermelons

I really am a huge fan of @tnsophiaonly , and she's basically my inspiration! Especially when I find out she's Filipino - that's amazing.

[saikowatermelons]

HOLY SHIT KYO CONTENT IS REAL?? AAAAA

❝WHERE SHADOWS CLING TO LIGHT❞

⌗ -⪼ Kyofusho, a shadowed and tormented soul, finding solace and obsession in the light of the merchant's —your— kindness. It acts as both a statement of their bond and a poetic reflection of the tragedy that threads through the universe.

—–-–-—⟩»⟩ In the dusky amber of twilight, where the horizon bled into shades of violet and gold, a solitary figure wove through the cobblestone alleys of an ancient marketplace. The air was thick with the scent of sun-warmed spices and the faint, distant melody of a minstrel's lute. This was no place for shadows, and yet Kyofusho moved like one—a specter unnoticed in the bustling crowd. His cloak, tattered and frayed, billowed behind him, a phantom in the light of day.

He was no stranger to hunger, its gnawing ache a constant companion since the days he first woke in a world that had long since cast him out. A child, reborn and forsaken, with the memory of a name—Kyofusho, Nightmare—but nothing more. His hollow, pitch-black eyes, void of pupils, mirrored the emptiness that clawed at his soul. They whispered of otherness, of monstrosity, and the world, in its cruelty, had responded in kind.

Today, hunger drove him again, a relentless torment that urged his hands toward forbidden acts. The stalls brimming with ripe fruit and glimmering trinkets called to him, their abundance mocking his scarcity. Yet, his target was not a bauble or a loaf of bread but something far more alluring: a merchant whose wares gleamed with the promise of plenty, their presence radiating a peculiar warmth through the cold indifference of the crowd.

You.

Your stall was a modest haven amidst the opulence of the market. The cloth canopy above you rippled in the gentle breeze, casting dappled sunlight upon your wares. Handmade goods, carved with precision and care, lay neatly arranged, each a testament to your craftsmanship. There was a softness in your demeanor, an open kindness that drew people to you. You spoke with warmth, your voice a melody that seemed to calm the restless hearts of all who approached.

Kyofusho watched from the shadows, his gaunt figure pressed against the cool stone of a nearby wall. He had chosen you as his mark, but as he observed, he found himself hesitating. The lines of your face, the gentleness of your movements, they stirred something unfamiliar within him—a longing not for sustenance but for understanding. Still, desperation was a cruel taskmaster, and so, steeling himself, he moved.

In a blur, his hand darted toward your stall, fingers brushing against the edge of a cloth pouch heavy with coin. But you, sharp-eyed and perceptive, caught the motion. Your hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising strength.

“Halt,” you said, your tone firm but devoid of malice. The single word hung in the air, an invocation of stillness.

Kyofusho’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to fracture. He expected scorn, anger, or fear, but your eyes held none of these. Instead, they reflected something alien to him: compassion.

“Thou art hungry,” you murmured, your voice low, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “Why dost thou steal, stranger? Speak thy troubles, for the world may yet offer thee reprieve.”

The old tongue, the cadence of your words, struck him like a thunderclap. He had heard it before, in fragments of dreams long forgotten. His mouth opened, dry and trembling, but no sound emerged. Shame gripped him, its icy fingers tightening around his throat. What could he say? That the world had marked him as its enemy before he had ever drawn breath?

You released his wrist, stepping back, and to his utter astonishment, you offered him a small loaf of bread. “Take this,” you said, your tone softening. “And shouldst thou need more, return not as a thief, but as one in need.”

He took the bread with trembling hands, his blackened eyes searching your face for some sign of mockery, but finding none. In that moment, something fractured within him—a dam holding back years of bitterness and despair. He turned and fled, the bread clutched tightly to his chest, but your voice lingered in his mind like the fading notes of a song.

Kyofusho returned the next day, drawn not by hunger but by something far more consuming. He lingered at the edges of the market, watching as you worked, your presence a light he could not look away from. Days turned to weeks, and though he never approached, he became a constant shadow in your life, his gaze always seeking you out. He began to understand the rhythm of your days, the small habits that marked your routine. The way you hummed as you arranged your wares, the way your lips curved into a soft smile when a child tugged at your sleeve.

But with this growing attachment came a gnawing fear, a voice in the back of his mind that whispered of inevitability. You will ruin this, as you ruin all things. They will see you for what you are, and they will turn away.

One evening, as the market emptied and the sky turned to ink, he found the courage to approach. You were closing your stall, the light of a single lantern casting a warm glow over your figure. He stepped into the circle of light, his presence a jarring contrast to the warmth.

“Thou return’st,” you said, your tone neither surprised nor fearful. “Hast thou come to speak thy truths?”

Kyofusho’s voice, hoarse from disuse, rasped like the wind through dead leaves. “Why dost thou not fear me?”

Your brow furrowed, and you tilted your head, as though considering his question. “Fear is oft born of ignorance. But thou art no stranger to me now. I see thee, not as others see. Thou art… lost, aye, but not wicked.”

The words struck him like a blow. He wanted to believe you, to let your kindness wash over him and erode the walls he had built. But the years of scorn, the names, the torches and ropes, they loomed large in his memory.

“I am a monster,” he whispered, the words tasting of ash. “I bring ruin to all I touch.”

“Thou art what thou choosest to be,” you replied, stepping closer. Your hand, warm and steady, reached out to touch his arm. “And I see in thee a soul yearning for more than this darkness.”

The warmth of your touch burned against his skin, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of tears. He fell to his knees before you, his gaunt frame wracked with sobs. You knelt beside him, saying nothing, only offering your presence.

But the world is not kind to monsters, nor to those who dare love them. Word of Kyofusho’s presence in the market soon spread, and with it, the whispers of fear. The knights came, their shining armor a stark contrast to the grim reality of their intent. You tried to protect him, to speak on his behalf, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

They bound him in ropes, silencing his protests, and dragged him away. But even as they took him, his void-like eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not fear but a promise—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kyofusho would return. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more tragic, far more dangerous. He was a man who had tasted the warmth of your kindness, and in doing so, had become utterly, irrevocably yours.

- The prison walls were as cold and unyielding as the world that had condemned him. Days blurred into nights, and Kyofusho sat in the shadows of his cell, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. Your face, your voice, the way your hand had lingered on his arm as if he were not an abomination—these memories burned brighter than the dim torchlight that flickered outside his door.

He whispered your name in the darkness, the syllables a prayer and a curse. You had given him something he had never dared to dream of: hope. And now, in the confines of this cage, that hope twisted into something darker, more desperate. The world had taken everything from him, but it would not take you.

“I will return to thee,” he murmured, his voice a vow carried on the wings of the night. “Even if I must rend the heavens and the earth asunder, I shall find thee once more.”

Meanwhile, you could not rest. The sight of him being dragged away haunted your every waking moment. The market, once a place of joy and connection, now felt hollow without his shadow lingering on its edges. You found yourself wandering the paths he had once tread, searching for traces of him in the quiet night.

- The marketplace felt barren, as though the vibrancy of its colors had been stolen away with Kyofusho’s absence. The days passed in a haze, each one bleeding into the next, until you could no longer bear the weight of your inaction. Your heart was a restless tide, surging with the need to make amends for your failure to protect him.

You began asking questions in hushed tones, seeking any information about where they had taken him. The guards’ gazes turned suspicious, the merchants whispered behind your back, but you cared not. The world might see you as foolish for aiding a man like him, but they did not understand. They had not seen the anguish in his eyes, the way he clung to the fragments of humanity that remained within him.

Finally, your persistence bore fruit. A sympathetic stablehand, who had overheard the guards speaking, whispered to you of a fortress far beyond the hills. It was a place where the unwanted were sent, a prison for those deemed unfit for the light of day. You knew the journey would be perilous, but the thought of leaving Kyofusho to rot in that desolate place filled you with a resolve stronger than fear.

The fortress loomed before you, a monolith of stone and shadow. Its jagged spires pierced the heavens, and the air around it seemed heavy, suffused with despair. You had traveled for days, your body weary but your determination unshaken. Clutching a satchel of provisions and a heart full of hope, you approached the gate.

The guards stationed there eyed you with suspicion. “State thy business, traveler,” one of them barked, his voice sharp and unyielding.

You drew a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I come to visit a prisoner,” you replied, your tone steady despite the fear coiling in your chest. “A man named Kyofusho.”

The guard frowned, exchanging a glance with his companion. “The void-eyed thief? What business hast thou with such a wretch?”

“He is a friend,” you said simply, meeting the guard’s gaze. There was no point in crafting elaborate lies; the truth was your only weapon.

After a moment’s hesitation, the guard waved you through. “Thou art allowed entry, but beware. Monsters oft bring ruin to those who care for them.”

› The prison’s interior was even more oppressive than its exterior. The air was damp and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and despair. Chains rattled faintly in the distance, a discordant symphony that set your nerves on edge. A warden led you through the labyrinthine corridors, his lantern casting flickering shadows on the walls.

“He is dangerous,” the warden warned, his voice low. “Many have tried to tame beasts like him. None have succeeded.”

“I seek not to tame him,” you replied, your words firm. “Only to remind him that he is not alone.”

The warden said nothing more, but his skeptical glance spoke volumes. Finally, he stopped before a heavy iron door. Producing a key from his belt, he unlocked it with a grating screech and gestured for you to enter.

Kyofusho sat in the far corner of the cell, his frame hunched and gaunt. The dim light revealed the bruises that marred his skin, a testament to the cruelty he had endured. His hands were bound, his movements restricted by chains that clinked softly as he shifted. But it was his eyes that broke your heart the most. Those pitch-black orbs, once filled with a flicker of defiance, now seemed hollow, as though the darkness within them had consumed him entirely.

“Kyofusho,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head slowly, and for a moment, he stared at you as though you were a ghost. Then his lips parted, his voice a rasp barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “Why hast thou come?”

You stepped closer, kneeling before him so that your faces were level. “I could not leave thee here. Not like this.”

His laughter was bitter, a sound that cut through you like a blade. “Thou art a fool. Dost thou not see? This is where I belong. The world hath no place for monsters such as I.”

“Thou art no monster,” you said fiercely, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but you did not pull away. “Thou hast suffered, aye, but suffering doth not define thee. There is more to thee than pain.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours. Then, as though a dam had broken, the words spilled from him in a torrent. He spoke of his torment, of the chains that bound not just his body but his very soul. Of the voices that whispered to him in the dark, telling him he was unworthy of kindness, of love. Tears streamed down his face, and he trembled beneath the weight of his anguish.

You listened, your heart breaking with every word. And when he could speak no more, you pulled him into an embrace, holding him as though your arms alone could shield him from the world’s cruelty. “I see thee, Kyofusho,” you whispered. “And I shall not turn away.”

› That night, as the fortress slumbered, you made your decision. You would not leave without him. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more precious. He was a soul who had been battered by the tides of fate, a man who had endured so much and yet still clung to the fragile hope that someone might see the humanity within him.

The path ahead would not be easy. You would face dangers, betrayals, and hardships untold. But as you looked into Kyofusho’s eyes, now glimmering with the faintest spark of hope, you knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You would face the darkness together, you both thought, such an idea swirling within the depths of your mind, but Kyo - Kyofusho,

❝I'LL MAKE SURE OF THAT.❞

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑

‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

╰┈➤ kyofusho (Kyo) x reader

╰⪼ yet again, my deepest apologies if my English doesn't harbor such mastery as some authors do, English isn't my first language! And so - I am absolutely elated to find out that my favorite author has noticed me! @tnsophiaonly I hope that you aren't bothered by this at all!

And @saikowatermelons I am so delighted to find more OCs! It's amazing! And very interesting, I wish to be an active participant of this little fanfiction! Also seeing Adero's appearance has some what gave me motivation to do some art, if you don't mind! That saying - enough adero, kyofusho is actually quite interesting! He has the most potential of being a really tragic yandere! This one isn't really a drabble, but instead a full on fanfiction, I hope I did well, sorry it's not that long.

[tnsophiaonly]

Chapter One: The Saint of Sunlight

TW: slavery, neglect, exiling, mentions of eating humans, cult, manipulation, blood, child neglect, murder

a/n: shitttt I haven't proofread it yet whoops, then again when have I ever proofread in my life, ugh my signature banners won't pop up sooo.

Beneath the gilded rays of the Sun Kingdom, where marble spires pierced the heavens and golden tapestries adorned every hall, there lived a woman so revered she seemed more legend than flesh.

Donya Estrella was the paragon of purity, the embodiment of grace.

Her voice, when lifted in prayer to the radiant sun prince Adero, wove through the hearts of the faithful like sunlight through stained glass.

Her every movement was deliberate, a gentle ripple in the still waters of decorum, and her beauty seemed kissed by divine hands.

The people called her the Saint of Solaria, a bridge between their mortal existence and the celestial prince they worshiped.

But beneath the angelic facade lay a heart as cold and calculating as the endless void between stars.

Estrella had perfected the art of deceit, mastering the role thrust upon her by necessity and ambition.

Born to the ashes of a family crushed by poverty and war, her rise had been forged in blood and cunning.

Enslaved as a child, she had endured unspeakable horrors, her innocence stripped away with each passing day.

Her salvation came not through benevolence but a pact with a merciless woman who saw the potential in her doll-like beauty and honeyed words.

The deal was simple: become the people's saint and reap the fruits of their devotion. Wealth, power, and freedom from the chains of her past.

The memory of her owner’s blood on her hands — a desperate act of survival — still haunted her. But Estrella had learned long ago that survival required sacrifice, and her own soul was a small price to pay.

Each morning, she donned the immaculate robes of her station and lifted her voice in hymns to Adero, the Sun Prince.

His name, she whispered with practiced adoration, and her sermons painted him as the eternal light that guided their lives.

Adero’s radiance, she proclaimed, was the source of her wisdom and her strength.

The faithful believed her words with fervent devotion, their offerings piling at her feet like waves crashing upon the shore.

Yet Estrella herself cared little for Adero. To her, he was a tool, a concept to exploit. The faith of the masses was a bottomless well of power, and she drank deeply.

---

Chapter Two: The Stranger by the Sea

It was on one of her rare, private strolls along the southern shores that Estrella’s carefully constructed world shifted.

The cerulean waves lapped gently at the sands, carrying the salty tang of the sea. The air was warm, the cries of gulls distant and sparse.

It was a haven from the prying eyes of her devotees, a place where she could let the mask slip, if only for a moment.

Her solitude was interrupted by a figure sprawled upon the sands.

At first glance, he appeared human, though ragged and battered by the sea.

His bare chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his only clothing a pair of tattered trousers and a pirate’s hat askew upon his head.

But as she drew closer, the truth revealed itself: his sharp, elongated canines, his ears tapering into points, the faint iridescence of his skin when the sun caught it just right.

He was not of her kind.

Estrella knelt, her expression the picture of concern. “Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice as soft as the wind.

The man stirred, his dark eyes fluttering open. Fear flickered across his face before he winced and tried to sit up. “I… I don’t need your help,” he muttered, though his trembling limbs betrayed him.

Estrella’s lips curved into a serene smile. “Hush now. I will tend to your wounds.” She produced a small vial of healing salve from her satchel and began to apply it to his injuries, her movements gentle but deliberate. “What is your name?”

“Julius,” he said after a pause, his voice tinged with suspicion. “And yours?”

“Donya Estrella,” she replied, her tone laden with practiced humility. “The people call me their saint, though I am but a servant of the light.”

Julius’s gaze sharpened, and for a moment, she thought he might laugh. Instead, he said nothing, allowing her to work.

---

Chapter Three: A Bargain Struck

Over the following days, Estrella nursed Julius back to health, piecing together his story with the skill of an interrogator disguised as a confidante.

He was no ordinary man but a creature cursed to dwell in the sea, exiled by his own people and burdened with a monstrous hunger he could not control.

Once a boy who dreamed of freedom upon the waves, he had been betrayed by his father and cast into a life of torment.

Now, he was little more than a ghost, drifting between the shores of despair and survival.

Estrella saw an opportunity. Julius was a rarity, a being whose existence could validate her claims of divine connection.

If she could present him to her followers as a messenger of Adero, proof of her sanctity, her power would solidify beyond question.

But to secure his cooperation, she needed to appeal to his broken spirit.

“You are not a monster,” she told him one evening as they sat beneath the stars. “You are a trial of faith, a gift from the sun to test the devotion of his people.”

Julius’s laugh was bitter. “A gift? Is that what you call this curse?”

“You may see it as a curse,” Estrella said, her voice laced with sympathy, “but through you, we can bring salvation to many. I can give you purpose, Julius. A chance to be more than what you’ve become.”

He studied her, his dark eyes searching. He knew she was not what she seemed, that her kindness was a calculated act.

But he also knew that she offered something he craved: care, attention, and a place in a world that had cast him aside.

“What do you want from me?” he asked.

Her smile was radiant, her eyes gleaming with ambition. “Only your trust.”

---

Chapter Four: The Ceremony

The first ceremony was held beneath the blazing sun, a grand spectacle of devotion.

Estrella stood at the altar, her hands raised as she sang praises to Adero, her voice a melody of divine fervor.

The crowd gathered in rapt attention, their faces alight with faith.

Julius knelt beside her, dressed in robes of gold and white, his otherworldly features veiled just enough to appear ethereal rather than monstrous.

“Behold,” Estrella proclaimed, her voice ringing out over the crowd, “a messenger from the Sun Prince himself! He walks among us to guide us to salvation.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, their faith redoubling.

They did not question the monthly sacrifice she demanded, the chosen “lucky soul” sent to the supposed paradise beyond.

Julius played his role, his guilt buried beneath the weight of Estrella’s assurances and his own desperation to belong.

In their private moments, he would sometimes look at her with a mixture of awe and dread. “Do you ever regret it?” he asked once, his voice barely above a whisper.

Estrella’s smile was cold, her eyes distant. “Regret is a luxury I cannot afford.”

Lez go make an oc for mayhem massacre together :9

I am very much glad you decided to do this collab with me, I am so grateful, I am such a huge fan of yours and this has got to be the best day of my life! Thank you very much.

@tnsophiaonly's OC! This was written by hers and all the information is made by both of us!!

Name: Donya Estrella

Age: 24

Height: 5’6” (167 cm)

Weight: 110 lbs (50 kg)

Aliases:

The Saint of Solaria

The Chosen Bridge

Her Radiance of Adero

Occupation: Cult Leader (disguised as a Saint and religious figure)

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Appearance:

Estrella’s purplish-white hair cascades in soft, feathery strands, cropped short to exude both elegance and practicality. Her skin, pale as marble, contrasts sharply against her green robes, designed to stand apart from the nuns clad in orange-red or white. Her eyes remain perpetually closed, an ethereal gesture that enhances her illusion of divinity. When opened, her gaze is a striking shade of green, piercing and otherworldly. She always carries herself with grace, her movements slow and deliberate, as if every step is a prayer.

Personality:

Estrella is a master of duality. Outwardly, she embodies purity, meekness, and humility—a beacon of the idealized ancient woman. In truth, she is cold, calculating, and deeply manipulative, viewing people as tools for her survival and gain. While her exterior is soft-spoken and demure, her inner thoughts are sharp, often laced with resentment or disdain. Beneath her calm facade lies a fractured soul, deeply scarred by her past yet determined to claw her way to the top at any cost.

Background:

Born into poverty, Estrella's childhood was a tapestry of suffering. Her parents were enslaved, and as a child, she witnessed unspeakable atrocities. At the age of ten, she was sold into slavery herself, enduring years of physical and emotional abuse. Her breaking point came when she murdered her owner in a desperate act of defiance. A cunning woman in power recognized Estrella’s ethereal appearance and offered her a chilling deal: if she posed as a saint, using her looks and wit to create a profitable cult, she could live in luxury. Desperate and hollow, Estrella accepted.

Relationships:

Julius: Estrella sees Julius as both a tool and an anomaly. His dependency on her feeds her ego, yet his perceptiveness unsettles her.

The Cult of Adero: Estrella manipulates her followers but harbors no genuine care for their faith, viewing them as sheep.

Motivations:

Estrella seeks survival, power, and the illusion of control. Deep down, she yearns for a life where she is not at the mercy of others, but she is too broken to trust or love anyone genuinely.

Weaknesses:

Emotional Detachment: She struggles to form genuine bonds, which isolates her emotionally. Always assuming that someone wants something from her.

Haunted Past: Flashbacks and guilt over her childhood and actions as a slave often disturb her.

Lack of self-worth: Relying merely on her saintly-self, anything that isn't that is useless, she is of no worth, she thinks.

Strengths:

Manipulation: Her charisma and cunning allow her to bend others to her will.

Unwavering Composure: She rarely loses her temper, always maintaining her serene act.

Likes:

The silence of the ocean, as it reminds her of peace she’ll never truly have.

Lavish meals that contrast with her childhood of starvation.

Dislikes:

Chains, ropes, or anything that reminds her of enslavement.

Being touched without permission, stemming from past trauma.

Hobbies:

Singing hymns she secretly despises.

Collecting rare green gemstones, symbolic of her "divine" eyes.

Last Time She Cried:

At age 14, the day she killed her owner. She has trained herself to suppress all visible signs of weakness since.

Favorite Food:

Freshly baked bread with honey—its simplicity feels like stolen comfort.

Least Favorite Food:

Gruel or anything associated with her time as a slave.

Family (Status):

Dead or enslaved. She never sought them out after gaining freedom, fearing they were reminders of her failure to save them.

As a Kid vs. Now:

Kid: Bright-eyed, hopeful, and fiercely protective of her family.

Now: A jaded survivor who sees hope as a dangerous illusion.

If She Had a Time Machine:

Past: To hug her past self, and lavish her old self with all the luxuries she was never lavished with, lavish without the feeling of being groomed.

Future: Out of curiosity, to see if her manipulations bear lasting fruit. Or if she's able to finally... Escape.

Ideal Type:

Someone submissive and loyal, who wouldn’t question her authority.

Fetish:

Control—she craves being in complete dominance over her partners.

How She Spends Her Day:

Mornings are for prayer and ceremonies, afternoons for managing cult affairs, and evenings for indulging in luxuries alone.

What Would She Do with 100 Million Pesos?

Buy an island where she could live alone, free from the chains of her facade.

What If She Was Never Given the Chance to Become a Saint?

She would likely have died in slavery or resorted to a life of crime.

What If She Never Got Out of Slavery?

Her spirit would have withered entirely, leaving her a husk of a person. She would've killed herself.

Habits:

She hums hymns when deep in thought.

Gripping either her wrists or ankles when she's feeling anxious, as it reminds her of the not-so comfortable feeling of chains.

Fun Facts:

Despite her manipulative nature, she secretly fears being alone forever.

Her love for green stems from a childhood memory of a rare jade bracelet her mother once wore.

Quote:

"Faith is but a tool, a fire one fan for warmth, even if it burns the hands that trust thy."

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ my oc!

Name: Julius

Age: 25

Height: 6’8” (203 cm)

Weight: 140 lbs (63.5 kg) – unnaturally light due to his curse

Alias:

Messenger of the heavens

Estrella's divine bridge

Cursed sea monster

Occupation: Exiled, supposed messenger of the heavens. -Estrella's words.

Gender: Male

Race: Cursed human - sea hybrid.

Appearance:

Julius’s long, dark green hair flows like seaweed in the ocean, cascading to his ankles. His dark skin glistens faintly, reminiscent of a creature born of the sea. His mismatched eyes—one a deep blue, the other a luminous yellow—carry a sadness so profound it seems etched into his soul. His face is gaunt, his body frail, with sharp features that give him an otherworldly beauty. He often wears ragged clothing, salvaged from the remnants of shipwrecks, with a pirate hat perched haphazardly atop his head.

Personality:

Julius is a quiet and introspective individual, burdened by guilt and self-loathing. Though he exudes a timid nature, he harbors a deep intelligence and an acute awareness of the darkness in others—especially Estrella. Despite his pain, he clings to small moments of kindness and care, even if they come from manipulative sources. He is loyal to a fault, craving connection yet resigned to being used and discarded.

Background:

Julius grew up in a small town, where his mother, a strict and bitter woman, demanded he become a knight. He rebelled against her wishes, enchanted by the sea and the freedom it symbolized. His father, a pirate, was his idol until betrayal struck: his father passed a curse onto him to save himself, condemning Julius to a life of exile. Now, Julius is bound to the sea, cursed to either feast on human flesh or endure endless torment. His people shunned him, and he has spent years adrift, hated by the sea he once loved and rejected by the land he wishes to return to.

Relationships:

Estrella: Julius knows she is not as pure as she seems, but her care, manipulative as it is, feels like the only affection he has left. So he clings to her, and how that she doesn't discard him after she uses him.

His Parents: “I don’t want to know. I hate them. They left me.”*

Motivations:

Julius desires absolution from his curse and a place where he belongs. However, his overwhelming guilt and self-hatred often prevent him from truly seeking happiness.

Weaknesses:

Self-Loathing: He blames himself for everything, even things beyond his control.

Dependence: His need for care makes him vulnerable to manipulation.

Physical Frailty: The curse saps his strength due to his weak mindset, making him weak despite his height.

Strengths:

Acute Perception: Julius sees through lies and facades effortlessly.

Loyalty: Once he trusts someone, he will endure anything for them.

Connection to the Sea: His curse grants him abilities like underwater breathing and navigation, though he resents them.

Likes:

The sound of waves—it’s the only thing that calms his restless thoughts.

Stories of freedom, even if they feel unreachable to him.

Estrella.

Dislikes:

The smell of blood, as it reminds him of his curse.

The small town he lived in, which exiled him and shattered his dreams of belonging.

Hobbies:

Whittling driftwood into small animal figures, a habit from his childhood.

Staring at the stars, imagining a life beyond his cursed existence.

Drawing portraits of Estrella.

Last Time He Cried:

When he attacked his father’s ship and ended up killing him, consuming the very first flesh he's taken, hence made him realize his monstrous form.

Favorite Food:

Anything that Estrella cooks—its warm and makes him feel at home with a normal life.

Least Favorite Food:

Human flesh, though he’s forced to consume it once a month to survive.

Family (Status):

"I don’t want to know. I hate them. They left me.” His father betrayed him; his mother disowned him.

As a Kid vs. Now:

Kid: Julius was bright-eyed and full of wonder, dreaming of adventures on the sea.

Now: A hollow shell, haunted by betrayal and burdened by survival.

If He Had a Time Machine:

Past: He would stop his father from cursing him, though he knows it wouldn’t change his parents’ neglect.

Future: Out of curiosity, to see if his suffering will ever end. And if Estrella would still be there.

Ideal Type:

Someone who genuinely accepts him, curse and all—a fantasy he believes is unattainable, until he meets Estrella.

Fetish:

Reassurance—he craves words of affirmation and acts of care, no matter how insincere.

How He Spends His Day:

Drifting aimlessly in the ocean or lingering near the shore, waiting for Estrella’s next demand.

What Would He Do with 100 Million Pesos?

Buy a house and live a normal life with Estrella. And stop her from feeling so... Sad.

What If He Instead Became a Pirate or a Knight?

As a pirate, he would feel free but ultimately lonely, still yearning for connection.

As a knight, he would suppress his dreams, trapped in duty and resentment.

What If He Was Never Cursed?

He would have pursued his dream of becoming a pirate, only to realize freedom isn’t as fulfilling as love and belonging.

Habits:

Runs his fingers through his long hair when nervous.

Bites his lip to stifle his emotions.

Fun Facts:

His mismatched eyes are a side effect of the curse, symbolizing the duality of his existence.

Despite his sorrow, he hums sea shanties under his breath when he feels at ease.

Quote:

"The sea was once my home, my solace. Now it is my cage, my tormentor. Yet still, I return to it, for where else can I go?"

[tnsophiaonly]

WTFFF, Kyo sounds so tragic that adero might have a competition frfr

❝WHERE SHADOWS CLING TO LIGHT❞

⌗ -⪼ Kyofusho, a shadowed and tormented soul, finding solace and obsession in the light of the merchant's —your— kindness. It acts as both a statement of their bond and a poetic reflection of the tragedy that threads through the universe.

—–-–-—⟩»⟩ In the dusky amber of twilight, where the horizon bled into shades of violet and gold, a solitary figure wove through the cobblestone alleys of an ancient marketplace. The air was thick with the scent of sun-warmed spices and the faint, distant melody of a minstrel's lute. This was no place for shadows, and yet Kyofusho moved like one—a specter unnoticed in the bustling crowd. His cloak, tattered and frayed, billowed behind him, a phantom in the light of day.

He was no stranger to hunger, its gnawing ache a constant companion since the days he first woke in a world that had long since cast him out. A child, reborn and forsaken, with the memory of a name—Kyofusho, Nightmare—but nothing more. His hollow, pitch-black eyes, void of pupils, mirrored the emptiness that clawed at his soul. They whispered of otherness, of monstrosity, and the world, in its cruelty, had responded in kind.

Today, hunger drove him again, a relentless torment that urged his hands toward forbidden acts. The stalls brimming with ripe fruit and glimmering trinkets called to him, their abundance mocking his scarcity. Yet, his target was not a bauble or a loaf of bread but something far more alluring: a merchant whose wares gleamed with the promise of plenty, their presence radiating a peculiar warmth through the cold indifference of the crowd.

You.

Your stall was a modest haven amidst the opulence of the market. The cloth canopy above you rippled in the gentle breeze, casting dappled sunlight upon your wares. Handmade goods, carved with precision and care, lay neatly arranged, each a testament to your craftsmanship. There was a softness in your demeanor, an open kindness that drew people to you. You spoke with warmth, your voice a melody that seemed to calm the restless hearts of all who approached.

Kyofusho watched from the shadows, his gaunt figure pressed against the cool stone of a nearby wall. He had chosen you as his mark, but as he observed, he found himself hesitating. The lines of your face, the gentleness of your movements, they stirred something unfamiliar within him—a longing not for sustenance but for understanding. Still, desperation was a cruel taskmaster, and so, steeling himself, he moved.

In a blur, his hand darted toward your stall, fingers brushing against the edge of a cloth pouch heavy with coin. But you, sharp-eyed and perceptive, caught the motion. Your hand shot out, gripping his wrist with surprising strength.

“Halt,” you said, your tone firm but devoid of malice. The single word hung in the air, an invocation of stillness.

Kyofusho’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to fracture. He expected scorn, anger, or fear, but your eyes held none of these. Instead, they reflected something alien to him: compassion.

“Thou art hungry,” you murmured, your voice low, as though speaking to a wounded animal. “Why dost thou steal, stranger? Speak thy troubles, for the world may yet offer thee reprieve.”

The old tongue, the cadence of your words, struck him like a thunderclap. He had heard it before, in fragments of dreams long forgotten. His mouth opened, dry and trembling, but no sound emerged. Shame gripped him, its icy fingers tightening around his throat. What could he say? That the world had marked him as its enemy before he had ever drawn breath?

You released his wrist, stepping back, and to his utter astonishment, you offered him a small loaf of bread. “Take this,” you said, your tone softening. “And shouldst thou need more, return not as a thief, but as one in need.”

He took the bread with trembling hands, his blackened eyes searching your face for some sign of mockery, but finding none. In that moment, something fractured within him—a dam holding back years of bitterness and despair. He turned and fled, the bread clutched tightly to his chest, but your voice lingered in his mind like the fading notes of a song.

Kyofusho returned the next day, drawn not by hunger but by something far more consuming. He lingered at the edges of the market, watching as you worked, your presence a light he could not look away from. Days turned to weeks, and though he never approached, he became a constant shadow in your life, his gaze always seeking you out. He began to understand the rhythm of your days, the small habits that marked your routine. The way you hummed as you arranged your wares, the way your lips curved into a soft smile when a child tugged at your sleeve.

But with this growing attachment came a gnawing fear, a voice in the back of his mind that whispered of inevitability. You will ruin this, as you ruin all things. They will see you for what you are, and they will turn away.

One evening, as the market emptied and the sky turned to ink, he found the courage to approach. You were closing your stall, the light of a single lantern casting a warm glow over your figure. He stepped into the circle of light, his presence a jarring contrast to the warmth.

“Thou return’st,” you said, your tone neither surprised nor fearful. “Hast thou come to speak thy truths?”

Kyofusho’s voice, hoarse from disuse, rasped like the wind through dead leaves. “Why dost thou not fear me?”

Your brow furrowed, and you tilted your head, as though considering his question. “Fear is oft born of ignorance. But thou art no stranger to me now. I see thee, not as others see. Thou art… lost, aye, but not wicked.”

The words struck him like a blow. He wanted to believe you, to let your kindness wash over him and erode the walls he had built. But the years of scorn, the names, the torches and ropes, they loomed large in his memory.

“I am a monster,” he whispered, the words tasting of ash. “I bring ruin to all I touch.”

“Thou art what thou choosest to be,” you replied, stepping closer. Your hand, warm and steady, reached out to touch his arm. “And I see in thee a soul yearning for more than this darkness.”

The warmth of your touch burned against his skin, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of tears. He fell to his knees before you, his gaunt frame wracked with sobs. You knelt beside him, saying nothing, only offering your presence.

But the world is not kind to monsters, nor to those who dare love them. Word of Kyofusho’s presence in the market soon spread, and with it, the whispers of fear. The knights came, their shining armor a stark contrast to the grim reality of their intent. You tried to protect him, to speak on his behalf, but your pleas fell on deaf ears.

They bound him in ropes, silencing his protests, and dragged him away. But even as they took him, his void-like eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not fear but a promise—one that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kyofusho would return. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more tragic, far more dangerous. He was a man who had tasted the warmth of your kindness, and in doing so, had become utterly, irrevocably yours.

- The prison walls were as cold and unyielding as the world that had condemned him. Days blurred into nights, and Kyofusho sat in the shadows of his cell, his mind consumed by thoughts of you. Your face, your voice, the way your hand had lingered on his arm as if he were not an abomination—these memories burned brighter than the dim torchlight that flickered outside his door.

He whispered your name in the darkness, the syllables a prayer and a curse. You had given him something he had never dared to dream of: hope. And now, in the confines of this cage, that hope twisted into something darker, more desperate. The world had taken everything from him, but it would not take you.

“I will return to thee,” he murmured, his voice a vow carried on the wings of the night. “Even if I must rend the heavens and the earth asunder, I shall find thee once more.”

Meanwhile, you could not rest. The sight of him being dragged away haunted your every waking moment. The market, once a place of joy and connection, now felt hollow without his shadow lingering on its edges. You found yourself wandering the paths he had once tread, searching for traces of him in the quiet night.

- The marketplace felt barren, as though the vibrancy of its colors had been stolen away with Kyofusho’s absence. The days passed in a haze, each one bleeding into the next, until you could no longer bear the weight of your inaction. Your heart was a restless tide, surging with the need to make amends for your failure to protect him.

You began asking questions in hushed tones, seeking any information about where they had taken him. The guards’ gazes turned suspicious, the merchants whispered behind your back, but you cared not. The world might see you as foolish for aiding a man like him, but they did not understand. They had not seen the anguish in his eyes, the way he clung to the fragments of humanity that remained within him.

Finally, your persistence bore fruit. A sympathetic stablehand, who had overheard the guards speaking, whispered to you of a fortress far beyond the hills. It was a place where the unwanted were sent, a prison for those deemed unfit for the light of day. You knew the journey would be perilous, but the thought of leaving Kyofusho to rot in that desolate place filled you with a resolve stronger than fear.

The fortress loomed before you, a monolith of stone and shadow. Its jagged spires pierced the heavens, and the air around it seemed heavy, suffused with despair. You had traveled for days, your body weary but your determination unshaken. Clutching a satchel of provisions and a heart full of hope, you approached the gate.

The guards stationed there eyed you with suspicion. “State thy business, traveler,” one of them barked, his voice sharp and unyielding.

You drew a deep breath, steadying yourself. “I come to visit a prisoner,” you replied, your tone steady despite the fear coiling in your chest. “A man named Kyofusho.”

The guard frowned, exchanging a glance with his companion. “The void-eyed thief? What business hast thou with such a wretch?”

“He is a friend,” you said simply, meeting the guard’s gaze. There was no point in crafting elaborate lies; the truth was your only weapon.

After a moment’s hesitation, the guard waved you through. “Thou art allowed entry, but beware. Monsters oft bring ruin to those who care for them.”

› The prison’s interior was even more oppressive than its exterior. The air was damp and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood and despair. Chains rattled faintly in the distance, a discordant symphony that set your nerves on edge. A warden led you through the labyrinthine corridors, his lantern casting flickering shadows on the walls.

“He is dangerous,” the warden warned, his voice low. “Many have tried to tame beasts like him. None have succeeded.”

“I seek not to tame him,” you replied, your words firm. “Only to remind him that he is not alone.”

The warden said nothing more, but his skeptical glance spoke volumes. Finally, he stopped before a heavy iron door. Producing a key from his belt, he unlocked it with a grating screech and gestured for you to enter.

Kyofusho sat in the far corner of the cell, his frame hunched and gaunt. The dim light revealed the bruises that marred his skin, a testament to the cruelty he had endured. His hands were bound, his movements restricted by chains that clinked softly as he shifted. But it was his eyes that broke your heart the most. Those pitch-black orbs, once filled with a flicker of defiance, now seemed hollow, as though the darkness within them had consumed him entirely.

“Kyofusho,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He lifted his head slowly, and for a moment, he stared at you as though you were a ghost. Then his lips parted, his voice a rasp barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “Why hast thou come?”

You stepped closer, kneeling before him so that your faces were level. “I could not leave thee here. Not like this.”

His laughter was bitter, a sound that cut through you like a blade. “Thou art a fool. Dost thou not see? This is where I belong. The world hath no place for monsters such as I.”

“Thou art no monster,” you said fiercely, reaching out to touch his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but you did not pull away. “Thou hast suffered, aye, but suffering doth not define thee. There is more to thee than pain.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours. Then, as though a dam had broken, the words spilled from him in a torrent. He spoke of his torment, of the chains that bound not just his body but his very soul. Of the voices that whispered to him in the dark, telling him he was unworthy of kindness, of love. Tears streamed down his face, and he trembled beneath the weight of his anguish.

You listened, your heart breaking with every word. And when he could speak no more, you pulled him into an embrace, holding him as though your arms alone could shield him from the world’s cruelty. “I see thee, Kyofusho,” you whispered. “And I shall not turn away.”

› That night, as the fortress slumbered, you made your decision. You would not leave without him. The world may see him as a nightmare, but to you, he was something far more precious. He was a soul who had been battered by the tides of fate, a man who had endured so much and yet still clung to the fragile hope that someone might see the humanity within him.

The path ahead would not be easy. You would face dangers, betrayals, and hardships untold. But as you looked into Kyofusho’s eyes, now glimmering with the faintest spark of hope, you knew one thing with absolute certainty:

You would face the darkness together, you both thought, such an idea swirling within the depths of your mind, but Kyo - Kyofusho,

❝I'LL MAKE SURE OF THAT.❞

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⭑

‧₊˚ ⋅ જ⁀➴๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑

╰┈➤ kyofusho (Kyo) x reader

╰⪼ yet again, my deepest apologies if my English doesn't harbor such mastery as some authors do, English isn't my first language! And so - I am absolutely elated to find out that my favorite author has noticed me! @tnsophiaonly I hope that you aren't bothered by this at all!

And @saikowatermelons I am so delighted to find more OCs! It's amazing! And very interesting, I wish to be an active participant of this little fanfiction! Also seeing Adero's appearance has some what gave me motivation to do some art, if you don't mind! That saying - enough adero, kyofusho is actually quite interesting! He has the most potential of being a really tragic yandere! This one isn't really a drabble, but instead a full on fanfiction, I hope I did well, sorry it's not that long.

[saikowatermelons]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE FANFIC OF ADERO!!! I REALLY APPRECIATE THE ATTENTION HE HAS RIGHT NOW! I PLAN SHOWING THE OTHER LORE OF MY OCS HOPEFULLY YA CAN CHECK IT OUT!!!

❝HE CARESSES MY FACE AND IT HURTS.❞

—-–-—⟩»⟩ Holding your hand with a tenderness that belies the arrogance etched into his every breath, you feel a surge of irritation rise, bitter and sharp, threatening to twist your lips into a scornful sneer. Yet, for all the exasperation he kindles within you, there is nothing you can do—nothing you dare do. For he is a prince, a radiant figure draped in privilege and power, while you are but a lowly sentinel of the gate, tethered to duty and shadow.

He has never been sound of mind, not truly. Perhaps it is a fissure in his very being, a fracture in the delicate architecture of his soul. One might think that the sharp collision of his head against unyielding stone could jar him into alignment with the rest of the world’s cadence. Yet no — such normalcy eludes him, as distant as a dream upon waking.

It is in the curve of his smile that his madness breathes. A hollow expression, bereft of warmth, for his lips may curl but his eyes remain void — vacant as the lifeless depths of a forgotten well. Those eyes, cold and unfeeling, harbor nothing but shadow, while his grin is a mockery of joy.

And then, his hands. Calloused and coarse, they grip you with an unrelenting firmness that sets your skin aflame with discomfort, as though it were woven of nettles. You yearn to break free, to recoil from the uncanny wrongness of his touch, yet some unnameable force binds you there. Your will falters beneath his grasp, and though every fiber of your being cries for escape, you cannot.

"Beloved, oh, my most cherished blossom, my radiant sunbeam," he murmurs, his tone a honeyed venom, cloying and treacherously sweet. "Pray, where hast thou wandered, little flower? Dost thou not know? Thou art mine alone to treasure, to hold. Tell me, wherefore hast thou strayed?"

His words drip with saccharine allure, yet they cling to the air like the rancid perfume of decay. The sound coils around you, a serpent of false tenderness, and you cannot restrain the flicker of revulsion. Your brow knits, your nostrils flare, a fleeting betrayal of your inner turmoil.

Shit. You swiftly master your expression, the trembling guise of innocence overtaking your visage—a doe caught in the thorns of peril. Soft and unbidden, your lips craft a deceit, honeyed and silken, to lull his fevered delusions into tranquil slumber. Before his tempestuous wrath awakens and rends you asunder, you weave words as delicate as gossamer threads:

"My radiant prince of the sun, dost thou truly believe my heart sways so easily, as though bewitched by thine own splendor? Forgive me, for I meant not to wound thy pride. Yet, pray, grant me this: mine eyes were ensnared by yonder blossoms, so fair they dare rival the gilded warmth of this day—a vision most perfect, though it pales, of course, before thee, my sovereign of light."

It is no truth you speak, but rather a sanctuary to flee—a refuge from the inescapable, a shadow to conceal yourself from the haunting brilliance of his emerald eyes. Eyes that are no mere windows to a soul, but abysses carved from the blackest depths of infernal torment, searing with a promise of ruin and despair.

His countenance split into a grin, a sharp curve of amusement etched upon his face, its edges cutting like the crescent moon against a midnight sky. There was satisfaction in the way his expression lingered—at least, you dared to hope. Then, like the brittle snap of ice beneath weight, a low chuckle escaped him, reverberating with a shadowed mirth that coiled in the air like smoke from a dying ember.

"My dearest, most loyal sentinel," his voice dripped with a silken malice, a predator’s purr beneath the guise of tenderness, "how generous thou art to weave for me such fair and gentle falsehoods—to keep mine heart entranced. Truly, thou art naught but a cunning little witch."

The words struck you like a blade cloaked in velvet, and your breath hitched as ice slithered down your spine. Of course, he had seen through you; how could he not? He was a master of discernment, a craftsman of manipulation, reading the soul’s secrets as one reads verses upon a page.

“But— I wouldst delight in thinking so, forsooth. Elsewise, I might hath stirred a touch of mischief,” quote he, a sly grin curling upon his lips, laughter spilling forth like a blade cloaked in silk.

Your heart, meanwhile, recoiled as unease stirred within you. For you didn't hope—no, pray—that his words bore naught but jest. This prince, though mercurial as the winds that whisper through forgotten ruins, was no harbinger of idle threats. He wielded his promises like a harpist’s strings, plucking at any reason, a melody of dread and deceit. And his eyes—void and fathomless—spoke not of jest but of a silence more terrifying than any spoken word.

"Fret not," quote he,

❝I'LL BE YOURS, AND YOU'LL BE MINE.❞

╰┈➤ adero x reader (randalia)

I'm sorry for bad English, English is not my first language.

╰⪼ this fic was inspired by @tnsophiaonly 's fic "You rise, I shatter" and checking out where the OC's where - I absolutely am smitten! Especially with Adero, so here's my first post in Tumblr, an appreciation to the under appreciated @saikowatermelons

I really am a huge fan of @tnsophiaonly , and she's basically my inspiration! Especially when I find out she's Filipino - that's amazing.