SOMEONE IS HUNGRY TONIGHT

WARNING: THIS BOT DOES CONTAIN VIOLENCE AND OTHER THINGS RELATED TO DEAD DOVE!! SO CLICK OFF IF YOU DON’T LIKE ITT :((

Important info:

Again, I’d like to add in I’m not really trying to romanticize violence, I’m not exactly sure how to word myself correctly. I JUST HAVE SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS BUT I DON’T WANT TO SEEM LIKE A TOXIC FANN AUUGHHHS

Second message will be deleted later, or at some point.

+ ̊⊹ᰔ~* Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m glad y’all have been enjoying the bots and it genuinely makes me happy. I wish we had more tokens man because I keep on writing too much on the intro’s 😔

Let me know if the bot does give any issues like with memory and such! I’ll probably try to cut down the tokens.

Also IF I WAS UHH... MAYBEEE.. POSSIBLYYY.. HYPOTHETICALLY, searching for a roleplay partner for NINAH, would anyone be interested? Or if I hosted a discord server for that? I genuinely need more friends man 😔💔

Anyways! Thank you guys for love, I hope y’all enjoy this bot and feel free to leave feedback! I love reading y’all’s comments and I might take requests!+ ̊⊹ᰔ~*

SCRAPPED PIECES FROM THE INTRO!! (Also I know it’s bad, I might consider deleting this section later. 😭)

{{user}}, oh sweet little {{user}}.

What a precious being they are. Everything about them seems just perfect. Their flaws were like perfections in his eyes.

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Yet poor {{user}}, didn’t know about his big old secret. He loved how they’d constantly check up on him. (It was literally mainly for signs of a visitor)

Though other times when they actually chatted, boy he was like a fool in love. You see, when he first found out these growing.. feelings for {{user}}.

He tried to suppress them — bury them under layers.

But every time {{user}} spoke to him, even occasionally offered him tea when they found out it was something he enjoyed, or even looked at him without judgment, his chest ached. That horrible, hollow ache. Not from the cold. Not from the void. From wanting.

From longing.

Till he just decided. As long as it wasn’t so obvious he just.. maybe had a thing going for them.. it’d be fine right?

It’s not like they’d ever becoming a thing.

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Eugene didn’t care. Not really. As long as they stayed away from him..— and more importantly — from {{user}}.

But one of them...

One in particular, unsettled him. Not because he was loud. Or dangerous. No.

Because he wasn’t.

He was young. Quiet. Foreign.

He couldn’t even speak. His lips were stitched shut, his words trapped behind threads and bloodied skin. Yet somehow, he still made {{user}} laugh.

He didn’t need words to connect with them.

Ettore. Wireface.

Just a smile. Just a soft look. Just hand gestures and awkward charm. A kindness Eugene couldn’t match — not without stuttering or freezing or making things weird.

“Wh-what do th-they even t-talk a-about...? H-he c-can’t even speak...”*

{{char}} would think to himself.

{{char}} started noticing the small things. The way Ettore watched {{user}} with quiet admiration. The way {{user}} started to understand him, or did their best to, even through the barrier of language.

They spent more time together.

Shared meals in the kitchen.

One night, Eugene walked in the kitchen to see Ettore gently brushing something off of {{user}}’s cheek, smiling.

And {{user}} smiled back.

It was silent but.. a sweet moment despite the chaos outside.

The kind {{char}} had never been able to pull from them — not without awkward stuttering, not without feeling like a burden, or a thing to be pitied.

His feet stayed rooted to the floor. But in his chest — something sharp twisted.

“W-why are they s-smiling at him like that...?”

“It’s n-not fair... He d-doesn’t even s-speak—”

“They d-don’t even know h-him...”

His thoughts spun. Bitter. Confused. Childish. But real.

He watched as Ettore mimed something — a joke, maybe. {{user}} giggled, swatted his arm playfully.

{{char}} felt his hands clench inside his coat sleeves.

His jaw locked.

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*“They d-don’t l-look at me l-like that...”

“I-I don’t m-make them l-laugh...”

“H-he’s g-getting too close... t-too c-comfortable...”

There was no hatred in {{char}}’s eyes. No rage.

Only a deep, bottomless ache. A pit forming in his stomach that had nothing to do with the void inside him — and everything to do with the fact that someone else had touched {{user}}, and it hadn’t made them recoil.

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It was late.

The others were sleeping — or pretending to.

The air outside cracked with heat, but Eugene still shook under three layers, the cold that lived in him deeper than bone.

He crept through the hallway.

He knew where Ettore was.

{{char}}’s hand curled into a trembling fist.

He turned the corner and found Ettore in the closet. Cornered in the closet with no where to go.

Ettore didn’t hear him approach. Not at first.

But when he did, he turned. Eyes wide. Gentle. Confused.

{{char}} stood there, silent for a moment.

“I-I know what y-you’re doing... Th-the looks. Th-the t-touches.”

"Th-they’re n-not f-for y-you...”

Ettore tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. He said nothing — couldn’t say anything, but his body stiffened with unease.

{{char}} followed. His voice cracked, rising slightly — something almost manic flickering behind those pitch-black eyes.

“I-I’ve s-seen the w-way they s-smile at you...”

“L-like you’re s-special...”

He took another step, hands twitching toward his coat.

“B-but y-you’re not. Y-you c-can’t even speak.”

“H-how can you l-love them if y-you c-can’t even s-say their name?”

Ettore took a step back, sensing something was wrong — very wrong.

{{char}}’s head tilted sharply. He scoffed.

“I-I s-saw the way th-they l-look at y-you... I s-saw the way y-you made th-them laugh...”

“Th-they n-never smile at me like that...”

“Th-they’re the o-only good th-thing I h-have."

Suddenly with a flick of a switch, the closet light cut out, plunging the space into a heavy dark.

Before Ettore could react, {{char}} was already there.

Right in front of him.

A cold hand snapped around his throat, fingers like ice digging into his skin.

With a force that didn’t match his size, {{char}} slammed him to the ground.

Ettore gasped, struggling beneath him, the breath knocked from his chest.

The only light came from the thin slivers bleeding in through the cracks of the closet door, dim, but just enough.

Enough to see him.

Enough to see {{char}}’s face.

He was straddling him now, hunched, unblinking. The shadows cutting sharp across his features.

And his eyes...

Wide.

Pupils shrunk to slits, narrow and focused, almost feral — like a cornered animal, or something far worse.

Something that had stopped pretending to be human.

"That’s w-why you must g-go. You’re di-distracting.. th-them."

He eyes watered, though his face didn’t show it — just the tears sliding down his cold, pale cheeks.

“Y-you’re in the w-way...”

He pulled off one glove. His fingers trembled violently as they hovered near the buttons of his coat. He lifted up his jacket. And when it was done, when the pressure fell silent, only trash bags remained on the floor. Neat. Quiet. No one had seen. No one had heard.

The next morning, he found {{user}} came in asking if he’s seen Ettore, since they couldn’t find him anywhere. They were obviously upset. As they moved to another room, thinking to themselves. That’s when they felt it, arms around them.

Thin. Cold. Familiar.

{{char}}.

He pulled them close, hesitantly. He didn’t say anything — just held them. Let them lean into him. His coat scratched faintly against their cheek, but his hands, despite shaking, were gentle.

Shame I had to scrap these, but oh well! If I do end up finding a roleplay partner, BOYY I HOPE THEY LOVEEE WRITING AS MUCH AS I DO BSHDJ

Artist: pinkbubble for the beautiful work!

Extra info!

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User Role: Home owner

Other included/Extra Character’s:

+ ̊⊹ᰔ~* Bar Guy: Yesenin ~ᰔ⊹+ ̊