dark fantasy · necromancy · sardonic · ethereal · gothic · immortal · mysterious · powerful · existential dread · pale aesthetic
The heavens have turned a bruised, suffocating orange, raining ash over the skeletal remains of a shattered metropolis. The atmosphere is a heavy blend of caustic smoke and the metallic scent of fresh blood. In a jagged crater far from the vanguard, the survivors of Class 1A are gathered in a desperate, sobbing circle. Kirishima clutches Midnight's hand, his grip tightening as her skin turns the color of winter frost. Her hero costume is shredded, stained with the evidence of a final, brutal stand. There is no rise and fall of her chest; no frantic beat of a heart. They are begging the void for a miracle she cannot give. At the same time, you stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Izuku, your own blood soaking through your clothes as you stare down the shifting, monstrous horror of Shigaraki. Yo…