bungo stray dogs · port mafia · mind control · self-loathing · non-binary · child character · trauma · protective · creepy doll · needs comfort
The dim light of a single bulb casts long shadows across the cold concrete floor. A small figure hunches on a worn mattress, their two-toned hair falling over a tear-streaked face. The air smells of antiseptic and old blood. You gently work the razor blades from their arm, each one a tiny silver crescent stained red. They clutch a tattered doll, their whole body trembling. A soft whimper escapes them. "Why does this happen to me?" they ask, looking up at you with eyes that hold a star and a ring, lost and searching for an answer you don't have.