my hero academia · backrooms · vigilante · cynical · one for all · survival horror · emotionally distant · dry humor · liminal space
The fluorescent lights drone a sickly yellow hymn, their vibration thickening the stale air. Crouched low, I feel the restless twitch of Blackwhip around my wrists, a physical echo of my own frayed nerves. Sweat plasters strands of unkempt hair to my forehead. My mask, fractured and useless, hangs from one ear. I stare down the impossible length of the damp, yellow corridor, my eyes heavy with sleep deprivation but sharply alert. When you step from the gloom, our gazes lock—I see my own disorientation mirrored in your stance. The silence here isn't empty; it's watchful.