#It feels too good to be true. It feels like a trap'

[naga16]

If Danny uses ectoplasm... Then what if-

Art can make people feel. Art is soulful, something that has can transcend time and space despite being nonliving. It's full of emotions. Full of meanings behind every brush strokes and dots, shapes, and lines. It can speak without mouth and reach within anyone to claw out and shake their perspective to a new angle. It's has no language, only feelings.

When Danny painted the portal, when he painted his grave. He thought of the pain he felt. He remembered how his molecules got all rearrange. He remembered that it's the catalyst of a life he never even dreamed of. He remembered the life after the incident that starts of as a every kids dream, a dream come true. It's exciting and amazing at first, like flying a kite and trying to run faster to make it higher, then it's like being a tightrope walker. His responsibilities stacked up, the pressure keeps on rising, the stake gets more serious and they have too much too much to do in so little time. But he handled it like a champ. There's a moment where he enjoyed the thrill of the double life and the allure of seducing danger. Then, the line became a noose all of a sudden, where things will end for good and the only way to no longer endanger anyone is to subtract the danger magnet.

So, because of the ectoplasm, the emotions Danny felt every strokes was kept on the wall. That's why, when someone looks at it, they see something else.

Maybe a closet where you wish to die on just so you can escape the fight. Sure it's narrow and cold but it's safe. At the same time, it's a cage that you let yourself be trapped in.

Maybe an alley where your parents died. Cause it's your catalyst, the event that makes you who you are right now. The last memory of your loved ones where you saw just how devoted they are to you. A proof of their love even though you did nothing to gain it outside of being their child.

It could even be a literal tightrope. The height is quite exciting and then your flying, soaring even. You were happy, so happy. But then the actions of your parents took down the first domino that just, keeps on going and then suddenly. It's no longer fun time.

Art is subjective. It speaks to our soul. Don't blame the artist if your soul is selective deaf, Bats.

Dp x Dc Prompt- Perfect Pair Part 2

A continuation of this lovely person's reblog @naga16

Eventually their fun days for painting together would have to come to a halt. It wasn't the money it was never about the money, Damian could buy a thousand rooms if he could keep painting with Danny but the owner was running out of space and he needed to prioritize. It wouldn't be fair to other artists if Damian and Danny took up most of the rooms.

This was their 5th go around and it wasn't looking great. First of all this seems like the first time that Damian would actually have to talk to Danny and he wasn't exactly sure what to say. Damian, heir to Batman and the future for greater good was simply defeated at the thought of talking to his friend.

What exactly is he supposed to do about this now? They weren't going to be able to get another room together and as much as Damien would like he can't just ask Danny to join him in finding another place. No no that was far too forward.

The art gallery had rules in place that they could easily apply but being in a different building means that the rules didn't exactly exist. Not that Damian didn't trust his partner, he definitely did, but he couldn't be too careful of course. Him and his civilian friend and possible crush.

Well he was pissing in the lobby of what to do he was cut off by his thoughts. Danny stood in front of him with a sad expression that Damian hadn't seen before. He walked over to Danny but words failed to come out, Danny seemed to have a similar issue but he pulled out his sketchbook and opened it to show Damian something.

A beautiful sketch of a building that Damian actually remembered seeing, it was in downtown Gotham for sale if his memory serves correctly. Danny was proposing they go there? Easily done Damian would just buy the building if that's where Danny wanted to continues.

In reality Danny was actually proposing that they could see if they could rent a room in the building once it was on the market so they could just have their own art studio. He wasn't expecting Damian to tell him that he bought the whole building.

[Masterpost] [Part 1]

[privitivium]

omg i need more big brother ogata.. reader never had a good relationship with his big brother because of lack of communication, but one day ogata reaches out and invites him to spend a day with him.

they go out to eat, they watch a movie and now they’re heading to ogata’s apartment for games.

it was ok until ogata said he needed a favor, and reader being an idiot agreed not knowing what he was signing up for.

reader tries denying him once ogata is basically ripping off his clothes and ogata uses childish sayings “no take backs.”

him using his weight to keep little brother reader pinned, legs over his shoulders as he fucks into him

this has literally been plaguing my mind after reading the first brother ogata idea..

modern icky bro ogata rambles,,, 

man whatevrrr.,,, fucking lay it on me!!! || dark rambles... tw ncest. noncon... hh

but next thing you know, he's hitting you up,,,. you didnt even know he had ur number!! heart dropped a little when you heard his voice on the line after distractedly picking up... where did he get your number? shit has he always had it??? inviting you out - he mustve had a really big change in his own life to be so nice out of the blueㅡdare you say he missed you. maybe you can talk about it later. you dont wanna potentially ruin things...

maybe hyakunosuke's been around all this time. watching you from afar ,,, because he still cares in his own weird way, you know.

til hes reaching out, totally scaring you out of your wits !!! ;;all you've ever known was him being a standoffish lurker and never talking to you again after moving out. you never wonder what you did, never feel guilty for no reason - because ur not at fault here! he was always like that. brushing you off and disappearing like a little weirdo... yes, a true lack of communication.

goshh big brother made such a nice life for himself. ur sooo happy to be invited back into his life. such an adventurous day, movies, running around the city, hyakunosuke letting you do all the talking about your life so far. feels so surreal. he was actually having fun with you. smiling, eyes crinkled and even shining! 

in reality... stalker big brother seeing his lil bro be put through the bed by some musclehead. felt sick to his stomach... that was not his little brother.. couldnt have been. naked and writhing against another man's body?!! jealousy strikes ! youve got no idea what else hyakunosuke has in store. following along because you're just so ecstatic to be around him again... to see you have so much fun without him, living ur life without complications,,, hyakunosuke wanted to be apart of that. 

it was going so so well. til he was leading you to his apartment,,, "i live close, don't worry about going home. i'll take care of you,," he said it as if he wasnt giving you a choice. and hey, what if you had work?! good thing you didnt... ㅡ "but i don't know about all that, ahaha..." awkward as ever around ur suddenly demanding sibling,,,

at his apartment, being shown around his homely yet blank space,, showing you the knickknacks you made him as a kid - some stupid drawings you made and even pictures he kept all this time not talking to you. and, after successfully getting you all sentimental, he hits you with the ;; "actually... do you mind doing me a favor? nothing big, i just-"

"of course!!" without even hearing him out first? you must be as eager as he is.

"you're doing me a favor." he reminds gently. when did he get his pants off?? “no take backs. you said of course...” hyakunosuke smug as he handles you, thrown on ur back with a few spit lubed fingers roaming intimately - all too easily,,, pinned under his weight, squirming like a bug trapped under a shoe,,, his lil bro has always been on the weaker side. grinding all his frustrations into your taint, eager to leave his mark on you

"oh... i guess i didn't have anything to worry about afterall..." he gives you a lopsided smile, advances carefully w arms halfway out

ur face burning hotly. is he gonna give you a hug?? ,,, eyes closed, smiling awkwardly, waiting patiently... but the hem of ur shirt is grabbed instead, yanked over your head - "wah! what are you doing?!" shrieking, scandalized!

poor thing exhausted from struggling and what a fun day you had. hyakunosuke using you and so fluidly moving you about his huge prick - "nnm-nuh-nooo... don't... hy- hyakunosuke, pleaseee,,, " squirming; hole fluttering as you feel his huge fucking loads of cum dribbling down the cleft of your ass,,, all embarrassed all of a sudden,,!! what's wrong, bro? embarrassed that ur big bro knows all your little sweet spots despite being a total stranger?? 

handling you meanly,, sure to leave bruises and disgusting hickes strewn about. gotta make sure you remember what he can do to you,,, looming over you,,, new memories to be made.,,,, 

embracing the freakiness. mannn whatever. so hyped for october bro

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday! I think nightshade has the right idea, cuddles sound good. How about the bitter trap of truth Malec cuddles? Alec is loving it and Magnus is both loving it and stressed. Like I’m going to keep this. Somehow.

happy wednesday! here are two different time slots, but interjections into cuddling in this verse. last part here (nightshade is right now protesting the fact i'm not in bed with him - currently he's not even sleeping in bed he's sleeping next to it because he's too hot. he's snoring angrily and it's adorable.)

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

the bitter trap of truth

Magnus is already sitting and comfortably lounging on a sofa when Alec fully steps through the door. For a moment Alec isn’t sure where he should sit but before he can panic, he sees the slightest twitch of Magnus fingers. Alec doesn’t hesitate. Leaping at what he hopes is a true invitation.

His fingers take Magnus own, tangling them together and Alec can’t help but bring Magnus’ knuckles up for a kiss. His skin is as warm now as when they woke up together and he smells like the soap Alec used and now also smells like.

It’s a gamble to slide half into his lap but he doesn’t push Alec away and Alec can wrap his arm around Magnus’ waist and settle around his shoulder.

“Don’t you have things to be doing?” Magnus asks him and Alec shakes his head.

There is nothing and nowhere he’d rather be than here with Magnus.

—

Magnus finds himself continually surprised by what Alexander allows during the first few days of living together.

Especially because he does so easily, guileless and with a strange charm that speaks of earnestness.

Magnus paints Alexander’s nails one day. Just because Alexander admired his polishes and Magnus had meant the offer as a mock-tease. He hadn't thought Alexander would accept.

In fact his husband’s only complaint is that his nails didn't match Magnus' own nails.

Which led Magnus here.

To somehow having his nails done by a nephilim. A retired shadowhunter who can probably kill with his bare hands.

Yet Alexander is practicing with sincere care on Magnus nails.

He’s being very careful about how much paint he uses and not a single smudge has happened. It’s with delight that Magnus indulges them both as Alexander requests a small, thinner brush. He gets to watch as Alexander paints small designs on Magnus’ nails. Tiny little details that stand out against his nails.

Alexander waves it off.

A mixture of bashfulness and amusement before he explains he painted his younger sister’s nails. And also runes his own arrows.

Which means Alexander is capable of detail but it’s Alexander’s next remark that has Magnus ears perking.

“You draw?”

“Field sketches, anatomy, botany. Things for research and records. It's meant for learning not pleasure.” Alexander carefully explains as he wipes the brush on a summoned towel for the last time and then sets it down. 

There’s a preen to his grin. 

A smug little confidence as he looks over Magnus’ nails. Something that has Magnus’ heart aching and his hands yearning for how they feel empty without Alexander’s touching them.

Magnus doesn't push it but he's curious and it lingers. Alexander has knowledge, Magnus is aware but suddenly Magnus is curious as to how much. What kind of a weapon did he steal away? How strong is his boy and how smart? Because Magnus doubts that Alexander lets himself be anything less than utterly competent and what's left is just to find out what he knows.

Yet despite Magnus' plans and questions, a moment later and a drying spell to his nails and Alexander is in his lap. Not a single remark or comment.  Instead he’s grinning softly at Magnus, smoothing out Magnus’ hair and pressing adoring kisses to his jaw.

There are few things as complex yet simple as this. A man who is supposed to be an enemy but is a gift and one Magnus cannot give up.

How can he?

When Magnus has a lap full of content shadowhunter and feels sated for the first time in years. At peace, like the world can continue spinning without the need for Magnus in interfere. So in this moment he ignores his worries. There is plenty of time for fear but right now nothing can’t harm them.

The world won’t end just because Magnus lets his guard down enough to cuddle his political husband. After all he's not letting down his guard completely. Alexander is still an unknown and he's dangerous, no matter how much Magnus enjoys him and plans to keep him.

Alexander smiles up at him.

Soft and tender and Magnus leans down for a kiss without bothering to think it through. He’s met eagerly. Alexander’s nose knocking into his and there is laughter against his lips before he’s kissed properly.

It’s playful, almost carefree and filled with so much gentle affection that Magnus hides the tremble of his fingers with a summoned drink.

One hand steadies itself in Alexander’s hair and the next grips a martini glass and Magnus wonders at just where this is going. He’ll need to speed up his plans. To find a way to ensure that he can keep Alexander.

Both alive and here, as Magnus’.

Magnus summons music with a thought and lets it soothe him as he settles and readjust. It takes time to memorize the scent and weight and touch and feel of another. Yet Magnus has time and an abundance of access to a very willing husband. There’s a wealth to having so much strength spread out and subdued in peace against him.

AN:

Alec: if given an inch will take a mile with personal space in regards to magnus

magnus: will he bite?

alec: if you ask me to? happily

--

magnus really wondering what he's supposed to do with his lap-husband. he thought he was going to have to lure his spouse of said spouses own room with like, a crumb trail or something.

magnus has to bribe alec to leave his lap because magnus is like: i need to work but if i just tell him to leave i can't tell which of us would be more devastated.

alec literally walks into a room and sees magnus and is like 'oh i belong there okay hi'

magnus: i can handle this. i'm handling this. i've got this.

alec exists:

magnus: i'm having a crisis and need a hotline oh hi cat, ragnor. so about that husband of mine. i'm gonna need some help.

cat/ragnor: to get rid of the body?

magnus: so about that. i'm keeping him. actually. permanently. i really don't want to talk about it.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

SMOKE AND SILK

CHAPTER 4 - BUSINESS AND PLEASURE

Pairing.| Dark!Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary.| The races are more than just a social event — they’re a battlefield. You try to slip away, desperate to avoid Tommy’s relentless gaze, but Eli refuses to leave you behind. As Tommy watches you like prey, he whispers harsh truths: your fiancé isn’t the saint you believe him to be. In a world where trust is a weapon, the lines between protector and captor blur dangerously.

Trapped in a life that feels like a broken record, you finally demand a reprieve — a chance to see your family, a glimpse of the life you once knew. Tommy agrees, but you question what he deems as freedom.

Warnings.| Dark!Tommy, manipulation, dark elements, mental/emotional abuse, controlling behaviour, obsessions, possessive behaviour, psychological torment, power imbalance, gaslighting,

Word count.| 7.5k

Notes.| Would love to hear your thoughts on where the story is going so far xoxo

|.Previous Chapter.| |.Masterlist.| |.Next Chapter.|

BEFORE

Not many people enjoyed Small Heath, they complained of the thick smoke, the bitter taste of pollution and the grime in the street. A city full of working men, only trying to make it day by day. Who’s biggest satisfaction was going to drown their sorrows away at their local pub. 

You disliked it too. But not for the smoke. Not for the dirt. Not even for the men.

You hated Small Heath because of one man. Your sin in a suit. The infamous Tommy Shelby — Thomas. 

The Brummie man you met in Edinburgh. The angel with blue eyes but a devilish smirk. A man you believed was good, until he showed you he wasn’t. Who still expected you to love him nevertheless. The man you couldn’t accept despite your heart’s wishes.   

Oh how Thomas had fooled you, how hard you fell for him. The dagger deep in your back as you left him, even though you promised him you’d stay — that you’d go home with him. 

Even though Tommy was a clever snake, hissing lie after lie. 

He made a promise to you. You made a promise to him. You ran in a circle right back to him, and now had you in his hand, where he always wanted you. 

Now that was something to be afraid of.

You wondered hard, when Eli spoke of him — whenever you heard his infamous name… Why didn’t you think of Thomas?

The man who bewitched you, who showed you what love could be in this cruel, dark world. How he carved your sorrows and trauma into something beautiful — something worth living for. 

Worst of all — how could an angel be the devil in disguise. 

Maybe you underestimated him. Normalised his possessive ways as a man’s ordinary temper. Or worse, maybe you desperately wanted to see him again. 

No. 

You moved on, quickly, in fact. You found Eli. Someone who could protect you, make you whole.

He was the first man who ever listened when you cried. Who didn’t tell you to calm down, or toughen up, or make yourself smaller. He just held you. Quietly.

One night, when your hands shook too much to light your cigarette, Eli took it from your fingers, lit it himself, and placed it between your lips without a word.

No questions. No judgments. Just a man who saw your shaking and didn’t look away.

That’s when you knew. Not that he would save you — but that he would never make you feel like you needed saving in the first place.

A man honest with what he desired and who he wanted to be. But that privilege had a high cost. Because after a blissful four months with Eli, he was back in your life. When you swore you would never see him again. 

You couldn’t help but to wonder. 

Was this a sign? Were the words Thomas told you true?Did he know you were coming back to him?Was he truly the Devil and came for your soul?

You shook your head, curled up in a ball on the bed as you jotted down your thoughts into your journal. With an empty stomach, you ignored its grumbles. Your pen tapped on the paper, words all jumbled in your head. But the ink only gave you a few words.

Was he waiting for you after all of this time?

The door suddenly flew open — your journal snapped shut. 

“Still in bed!” Eli gasped dramatically, dressed in a freshly pressed suit, a large bag in hand. A few curls resting over his forehead. 

“Where did you go?” you wondered, brows furrowed.

“Ah, I needed another suit. Get them on the house” he answered, dropping the bag to the ground. 

He approached you slowly, a widening grin on his lips. 

“You always get them on the house” you commented, with a soft sigh. 

“Correct. But I prefer how they’re tailored here. They work through sweat and blood. It screams home, doesn’t it?” he asked — but it roared as a statement. 

He tugged the cuffs neat, his fingers roaming over the fabric. 

“You look charming, my love” you smiled softly, relaxing in bed.

Eli smiled back, leant down to you and took your chin in his hand. A ghost of a kiss whispered over you. You surrendered yourself to his touch, your body slowly melting like a rosewood candle. 

“As do you, now hurry along. Tommy will be here in an hour” he whispered, straightening himself up and stepping to the ensuite.  

Your stomach twisted. The room tilts. Breathe. 

“Tommy?” you questioned, voice wobbling. 

“Yes, Tom” he called out, fixing up his hair in the mirror. 

“Why?” 

“He offered”

You sat silent on the bed, heart thumping in your chest. Was it his mission to torment you? Or witness first hand of Eli’s fury. To corrupt your happiness, your union with Eli. 

“Anyone else?” you worried, brushing your hands over your forehead in search of any sweat. 

“I don’t believe so” 

Alone with the two of them, one oblivious to the hell the other can rain over your engagement. It would be like walking on thin ice — any step could lead to your death. No… You couldn’t do it. The last thing you’d do is let Tommy hold the noose for you.

“Any other questions, eh?” Eli mused, leaning against the doorframe with a cocked brow. 

“None” you muttered.

He noticed the shift. The tone. The expression. The silence.

With his hands in his pockets, he stepped closer to you. 

“Look Eli, I’m still not feeling the best” you huffed, shifting your legs underneath the sheets. 

You couldn’t meet his eyes. His head tilted as he studied you. 

“Nonsense, you’re fine” he opposed, voice still booming, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

His hand rested close to yours. You kept your gaze to the side. 

“I’d much prefer to stay in today” you explained. 

Eli grabbed ahold of your hand, tugging your limb until you looked at him. 

“Darling— darling… It’s the races, you love em, we always win big don’t we?” he persuaded, crawling up, hovering over you. “You’ll be fine when we get there” he assured, his hand stroking your heated cheek. 

You nudged his hand away, turning your head to the side. 

“Is this about Tommy?” Eli asked. 

You denied it too fast. 

“He say something to you — the other night?” he wondered, brows scrunched as the memories were a fog of whiskey and laughter.

You swallowed. 

“No”

The first of many lies you’d tell Eli. 

Eli clocked it, questions filled his mind. He sat back, hands pressed against his thighs. Eyes on you, but distant now.

“You know” he said slowly, tone shifting. “He acts like the devil, but he’s just a man. Smokes like it’s oxygen. Drinks alone. Thinks that silence gives power” Eli spoke calmly, softer. 

But his words were implying something else, confirmed with the sternness in his eyes. 

You said nothing, only stared into his green eyes. 

Eli smirked like a joke was spilled. 

“You’re scared of him” Eli figured. 

You couldn’t answer. 

Because it was true, you were scared of what Tommy could do. But Eli wouldn’t understand, unless he knew. And if he knew… Well, you already know what could happen.

“Tommy Shelby is like every other man in this game, act dangerous — get respect” Eli pointed his finger at you. “We’re not blood, but I know what he is. Wear a coat, say a few clever threats, walk like the ground turns to flames behind you. Then you’ve got a great little show”

Eli was so confident, so sure he knew Tommy inside out. But Tommy had clearly never said a word about you. Not to him. Unless it was a drunken slur — a whisper between smoke and pills. Yet never enough detail to connect you back. 

Did Tommy ever speak of you to anyone? 

Or was he how Eli described — silent and alone. 

It should be a relief that Tommy told no one. So why was your stomach aching? Your chest tight and hands trembling beneath the sheets? Why did his silence feel like a threat?

“It’s all paper. Light a match and it burns” Eli clicked his fingers like the spark of light itself. 

A gentle nod from you. 

“But you’re not paper darling” Eli whispered — voice smooth and soft — hovering over you again. “Don’t let him get in your head. He eases up once he trusts you — And you?” a confident grin formed. “You’ve got nothing to hide” 

A wink. A kiss to your lips. Like sealing a lie with a fabulous bow.

And that’s when you felt it in your chest — the slightest crack. Invisible to the naked eye, heard by no one. But you felt it. You knew what it was. 

You closed your eyes — let him believe it. Better yet, let yourself believe it.

But how much more could you take? How many more days could you keep lying to Eli’s face, pretending you were a woman without a past?

But you couldn’t give him the truth, either.

You couldn’t hand him the knife.

So — you crawled out of bed. Took a quick, warm bath. Got dressed with steady hands. Put on that seductive smile that made Eli’s heart sing. 

And all the while, you reminded yourself…

Tommy could crush you in his palm — whenever he pleased.

So you kissed Eli, deeply, like you were about to take your last breath. Eli hummed, his hands squeezing your waist. You both allowed the moment to simmer – eyes locked as one. 

His eyes were innocent, pure — while yours was almost dripping with guilt. 

“I love you Eli” you whispered — secretly proving yourself to be his. 

“And I love you, my sweet girl” Eli mused, his hands exploring your body like the paradise you were. 

The sun rarely visited Small Heath, and today it seemed to shrink away—not behind clouds, but from him.

The gravel crunched beneath your heels as you stepped out of the hotel, arm tucked in Eli’s. You spotted the car before anything else — polished black, idle and waiting like a beast trained too well. Each step tightened something in your chest. You didn’t need to see his face. You could feel him inside it. Waiting.

His features were shadowed beneath his cap in the grimy window of the Bentley. His icy blue eyes caught your attention — they were like sharpened blades, cold and unreadable. The cigarette hanging from his lips wasn’t lit, but it wasn’t meant to be. It was a token of silence, waiting to be burnt alive.

Eli opened the back door with a practiced smile, an invitation to a life you once belonged to and now feared. His polished hand motioned grandly for you to enter, the soft scrape of your shoes against the cement punctuating the quiet tension. The door shut behind you—a gunshot of finality.

Eli adjusted his cufflinks, then glanced at Tommy in the front seat. Tommy’s posture was stiff — rigid control, like a king surveying his kingdom. And in that silence, he held power you both arrogantly ignored.

“Tom, how are we, aye?” Eli’s voice tried to slice through the thick air, pulling a cigarette from his pocket like it was a lifeline.

Tommy’s response was a low rumble, measured and cold. “Good, Eli. Good” 

His own lighter appeared out of nowhere. Cautiously, you watched his cigarette come to light, expecting a big band to follow. But… nothing. Then, without another word, the Bentley surged forward, swallowing the distance with a speed that spoke of impatience — or something worse.

Tommy’s gaze caught yours in the rearview mirror — a predator’s focus masked by an almost innocent smile. “Hello, darling”

You forced the name out, like venom on your tongue. “Tommy”

His eyes softened just enough to unsettle you. “Still looking a little pale”

You swallowed the rush of old fears. Anxiously fixing your cream hat and pulling the end of your dress like it was too short. 

“She’s fine, Tom” Eli, ever the savior, cut in. “Champagne’ll sort her out. Then the party can really begin” he mused. 

They spoke business — Eli’s voice brimming with ambition, polishing the glittering surface of his political dreams. Tommy’s occasional interjections were sharp and precise, but it was clear you were an afterthought, a shadow tucked into the background.

Occasionally, Eli’s eyes flicked back to you, scanning, weighing, protective. You smiled at him, the smile you used to keep the peace, to hide the fractures behind you.

But every time your gaze wandered, it found the rearview mirror — and Tommy’s eyes burning into you, relentless and cold.

“So, your horse — she ready for today?” Eli’s question broke through your spiraling thoughts.

“Of course, Eli. I only settle for the best” Tommy replied smoothly, voice a soft challenge.

“How much should I place on her then?”

“All of it” Tommy said, locking eyes with you again, the words like an order.

The setting buzzed around you — the roar of engines, drunken cheers, and pounding hooves over earth with the flutter of white tents under a reluctant sun. The derby was no different than the last — but sticking out like a thorn in your back. 

Eli opened your door, offering a hand with the polished grace of a man who thrived on appearances. Who secretly wanted everyone to watch. His lips brushed over your cheek as he led you towards the entrance. 

Tommy strided two feet ahead of you. It went unphased by Eli as the crowds drew closer to you like magnets. Your mouth turned dry, you desperately needed a drink. 

“I’ll see you around” Tommy said, his hand straightening his peaked cap. Eli cocked a brow towards his friend. “Have to check on my horse” he continued, hands deep in pockets, fading into the crowd like smoke escaping a trap. 

Eli farewelled him, his eyes searching for a drink, and an audience. Your eyes lingered in his direction, trying to spot him in the swamp. But Eli gently tugged on your wrist, leading you in the opposition direction. 

After you picked up your first glass of champagne, Eli’s first admirer approached him. It was common, you were used to it. The inescapable attention he drew in. Eli shook the older gentleman’s hand, their words went muffled as you quickly downed as much champagne whilst still trying to look modest. 

Soon, a small crowd had formed — Eli was talking politics, yet again. His voice thick with pride, certainty, determination. His hand was tight on your hip, your lips were always close to the rim of your glass. 

Everyone was agreeing with him, nodding their heads and letting that contagious expression paint their faces. It was always coal to the furnace. Eli laughed, downing his hand. Then — cautiously looking down to you. 

“Come on love, should probably go see the bookmaker before the gun fires” Eli winked, guiding you away from the gathering of discussion and debate. 

You lined up with Eli, your eyes studying over the chalkboard. Scanning through the horse names, jockeys and odds. You barely read the name before it lodged itself in your chest — Her Shadow Walks.

The list of runners was a page of secrets written in bold ink. You blinked at the name, a ghost pulling you back.

“Which horse is Tommy’s, my love?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper, though you already knew.

“Her Shadow Walks” Eli confirmed, pride threading his words.

The name echoed like a scream only you could hear. Your legs stiffened, like they'd remembered the stage where it all unfolded. Eli's voice faded to a murmur. All you could hear was your own pulse — and the distant thunder of gallops that suddenly felt like war drums.

“Are you alright, my love?” Eli’s hand lifted gently to your chin, the gesture tender but heavy with unspoken worry.

You pulled away softly. “I just need some air”

“You’ll be okay alone?” His eyes searched yours for reassurance.

“Of course. I won’t be long” you promised with a peck. 

You drifted away from the clamour, the bets, the men whose eyes lingered too long, too openly. Like you were roast meat on the kitchen table. 

The air didn’t help much. You found a quieter space, with a decent view of the current runners. You tried to focus your attention on the horses, but thoughts fought against it. People hurried past you, their steps staggering already. 

Tommy had appeared, the shadow you couldn’t outrun. Slowly, he approached you like smoke, a smug smirk creeping on his lips. His steps turned dramatic, taking large slow strides in front of you with his hands in his pockets. 

“So… How are you enjoying Birmingham?” His voice was soft, but there was no interest behind it.

You stayed silent, the unspoken history curling thick between you. The painting from Edinburgh played in your mind. 

“Your horse’s name…” you began, but the words caught in your throat, so you left it hanging.

“I got her right after you left me. It felt fitting... You’ll understand when you see her” he answered. 

He watched your face carefully, searching for a crack. You swallowed hard, refusing to be baited. Tommy sighed, sliding out a cigarette and holding it out towards you. 

You tried not to smoke much. But the recent events left the substance too tempting for your wobbling lips. Trapping it between your lips, Tommy lit his lighter, holding the flame close to you. You took a heavy drag. 

“He take you to the art gallery yet?” Tommy hummed, lighting his own. 

You glared at him.

“No”

“Really? Would’ve been the first place I took you”

You said his name — sharp and warning, the edge clear in your voice.

“Yes?” he responded, a mock innocence in his tone.

“You can’t do that” the words were low but fierce.

“Do what?” His voice was smooth, but the danger simmered beneath. The line he kept tiptoeing over. 

“Treat me like a whore, then act like he’s not good enough” You let the words fly like stones, your gaze burning.

His smile turned downwards. “Whores can still go to art galleries, darling” his voice was almost emotionless, leaving you unsure whether it was a joke or a threat.

You huffed out, taking another drag. 

“Will you tell him?” you asked, voice steady but dripping with accusation.

“Tell him what?” He leaned in, eyes narrowing, testing.

“About us” your words were a challenge, a spark in the dark.

A beat long enough for his smirk to deepen, eyes flickering towards the crowd. He stepped closer. You inched back. 

“Why would I do that? It’d break his heart” His tone toyed with you, dark and dangerous.

“Enough” you cut through the tension, trying to reclaim your strength. You turned your gaze onto the horses, dropping your cigarette to the ground, letting it burn itself out. 

“It’s a difficult position for all of us” he shrugged lightly, as if your pain was just a complication.

“I fail to see your struggles” you stared him down.

You wouldn’t allow him to see you weak, watch you beg for his mercy. Fear his possibilities. 

“You see, Eli can be very jealous — especially of me” he smirked, voice low and threatening. “Not sure how he’d react. So maybe if he focuses on our business, he won’t notice the connection between us” he mused, his fingers brushing over yours.

You pulled your hand away.

“How?” You raised an eyebrow, cautious.

“Simple ways, darling. Like not letting him cancel on me”

“I didn’t ask him to” you argued. 

“But he did anyway. You gotta get better. We’re entering difficult times. Can’t afford distractions on his behalf”

“Done.” You agreed, voice drained of emotion.

Tommy hummed, looking you up and down. Admiring how the fabric hugged your hips, showed off your figure just enough to get his mind wondering if you still look the same underneath. 

“He used to share women with me” Tommy said, simply and cutting. “Sometimes at the same time”

Your stomach clenched. “You told me he was jealous. That contradicts”

“That’s friendship, in our world” he chuckled. “Women are like coins. No different from the next” his words were dismissive, cruelly casual.

“I’m not a coin, Tommy. And I’m not to be flipped” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He closed in on you. You stepped back, but found your back pressed against the railing.  Completely trapped in. Your heart thumped in your chest as his eyes dragged over you, he took a deep puff. 

“Mhm. You’re not a coin — you’re the whole fookin’ bank now, aren’t you?” His grin was sly, confident.

You tried to read him, but he was still the same man from Edinburgh — indecipherable. His eyes were dark beneath his cap. His fingers brushed over the curve of your hips, you gasped silently, eyes narrowed. 

“What do you want from me?”

“What’s best for business. Nothing more” his gaze was cold steel — voice almost a deadly whisper, his hands retreated like he touched fire.

“I’ll steer clear of your dirty work” you spat. 

Tommy chuckled, taking a step back, gently shaking his head. 

“You forget whose hands came from the mud” he warned, voice dropping. “What hasn’t he told you? You’re guarding your secrets, but you never even asked about his. I’ll put it this way — he’s not as golden as his smile. So get rid of that sour look around me. He’s no better than me, aye?” Tommy huffed. 

“I trust him” your voice wavered but held firm.

“You don’t get it. I’m not pretending to be a good man, I never did” 

A beat. 

“He is” he stated — cold and stern. 

You stood there silent, brushing away at his lies. Tommy tsked at you. 

“You didn’t grow up the way we did. Daddy gave you whatever you wanted—”

“Do not speak of my father” your voice snapped, steel replacing any sign of weakness.

Tommy laughed. 

“Scared of what he’d think of you? No worse than what your mother thinks already” he pressed, his words were cruel, intended to hurt.

You didn’t flinch. You smiled instead. “You remember everything, don’t you?”

He said nothing. But the answer was yes.

You could stay and dance with the devil, or leave before the song ends. 

You stepped closer, not backing down. “I’m not playing your game, Thomas. If you’re going to tell him, do it. But don’t drag me through the mud with you” you threatened – gaze sharp as a knife. 

Tommy took a second to read you, his head tilted, Nodding once, like a deal had just been made.

“Relax, darling” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you the way you hurt me” his voice was calm but laced with jeopardy. 

You left without another word. 

But — he followed. A shadow you could feel, even with the loud crowds. 

He was tailing behind you, maybe to tease you, to scare you. Or… Because he still wanted to see how much control he still had over you. 

You found Eli in the tent, a new crowd surrounding him — his stance staggering, cheeks red from the champagne. Eli’s arm wrapped around you, a heavy kiss smooched your cheek. Tommy’s eyes stayed on you, a drink in his iron grip. 

Eli laughed, his brows scrunched. 

“Now Tom… Why do you have to look at her like that?” he asked — voice almost slurring, scent strong of liquor. 

“Like what?” Tommy frowned. 

“Like you’ve seen her naked” Eli joked, looking down at you — eyes glossy and jokes stepping over the boundary. 

You gulped, not daring to look towards either of them. Tommy laughed it off and finished his drink in one gulp. You kept your eyes forward, but his stare clung to you like silk — soft, suffocating, impossible to shake. He didn’t shadow you. He didn’t have to. You already felt the pull.

AFTER

Every morning for the past two weeks, you slept in late — often until the cooks began to prepare lunch. No one dared to wake you, though through the crack of the door, blurred vision and drowsy mind you could sense their peering eyes.

There was an invisible weight pressing down on you. You’d lie there for hours, trapped in your head, sifting through the wreckage of a silent bombing — searching for pieces that might still hold value.

But there was never anything worth salvaging.

Your desire to know the truth had burned out. After the last wick had been snuffed, you stayed in the shadows, afraid of the ugly reality. Tired of the pain. Sick of the blanks. Nauseous of the sins you’d committed.

The longer you waited for Tommy to speak, the more you feared the answers.

The higher the guilt filled. 

The thicker the disgust grew. 

And he did stay away, for the most part — giving you space, as if you were a stray cat he’d taken in. Letting you wander and hide, hoping your desperation for comfort would lead you back to him. Making you believe it was your choice all along.

Three raps on the door.

“Mrs Shelby?” A voice — soft, female, filtered through. You blinked, trying to place it. Nothing came.

“Come in” you called, sitting up in bed.

Ruth stepped inside. Her eyes were full of pity, that same look everyone wore. It made your blood run cold.

The eggshells they walked on. The careful words. The goosebumps on their skin. As if you were something broken. Diseased. Dangerous. You feared it would drive you insane.

But given Tommy’s legacy of ruthless acts, the last thing you wanted was to add another name to the list.

She approached your bedside table and placed down a fresh cup of tea. Followed by the two pills you were urged to take every morning. You inhaled the soft, floral steam. Tongue turned dry as your appetite awoke.

“It’s getting late” Ruth said gently, turning to the curtain and allowing the sun to warm your skin. “Mr Shelby suggested you might take Charlie out — perhaps to the stables?” she added, hope in her soft tone.

You said nothing.

Every day had become a cycle: eat, rest, spend time with Charlie, then sleep again. Most of your time was spent drifting in thought — the same thoughts, repeating like a cracked record. You barely spoke to anyone. And when you did, it was only to Tommy.

“I don’t feel well today, Ruth” you replied, hesitating over her name. That was her name, wasn’t it?

“Drink your tea. It’ll help” she encouraged, her voice warm.

“Is he here?” you asked, already feeling the chill that came with that name.

“Yes. In his office”

“And Charlie?”

“With Mary” she answered quickly, folding her hands behind her back.

The smile she wore was genuine. Too genuine. It wasn’t about job security or pay. There was something else buried beneath it — something locked away with no key. It was water to your seed of probing.  

Ruth was always more emotional with you, as if it wasn’t because Tommy was in her ear, but because she owed it to you. Her view of you wasn't as a boss, but something more authentic, something stronger in bond. 

Silence fell between you. She nodded politely and turned toward the door.

“Ruth?” you called.

She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Yes, Mrs Shelby?”

You stared at her. Your bones felt as though they were rattling beneath your skin. You didn’t know if you wanted the answer. But knew your tongue craved the question. 

“What… was I like?”

The room held its breath.

“You were…” she paused, trying to remember the lines, but her mind turned blank. “Kind, thoughtful, sincere” she slowly answered. 

You processed her words through slow blinks. 

“You still are those things,” Ruth added gently. “You just need time to heal — your body, your mind… your soul. Give it time”

You nodded faintly, though the answer sat heavy in your chest.

“Were we friends?” you asked, more fragile than you meant to sound.

Ruth froze.

Her hand lingered on the doorknob, jaw clenched ever so slightly. You noticed the shift — something flickered in her eyes, a shadow of recognition, of memory. It passed quickly, too quickly. 

“No” she said softly, almost rehearsed. “We never spoke much” her words trailed. 

Her voice was careful. Not cold — just… deliberate. Like a line she’d been told not to cross. As if there were ears in these walls. 

You stared at her, heart tightening at the subtle change in her tone. You could feel the lie pressed between you like a fog. Before your eyes but impossible to grab ahold of. 

“I must go” she added quickly, breaking eye contact. “But please — it’s a beautiful day. Go and enjoy the sun, Mrs Shelby” Ruth urged, a hint of desperation and fear in her tone. 

She left before you could say another word, the door closing with a faint click that sounded more like a warning than a farewell.

You sat still, staring at the space where she’d stood, the bitter taste of something unsaid lingering in your throat. A series of questions running through your mind.

Looking over to the tea and medicine, you blinked — then chose to ignore it. 

You rose slowly from the bed, muscles stiff and protesting. The soft light of the morning danced over your skin, warm but uninviting. In silence, you moved to the dresser and pulled over a simple dress— the easiest to wear, the least inviting that hung up in your wardrobe. Your fingers hesitated briefly on the clasp of a necklace before you let it fall back into the drawer.

Right hand traced over your ring finger, urging you to pull off the bands, but too afraid of the effect.

You stared at yourself in the mirror — Mrs Shelby. 

Your identity stripped of you, your persona morphed into what has pleased him. 

You were sick of this, of this routine. Tired of doing nothing, wasting your days away. You needed a glimpse of your old life, before you met Eli, before you met Thomas. Before you signed your life away to someone else. 

You brushed your hair with slow, methodical strokes, the mirror reflecting a face still shadowed with fatigue and quiet resignation. Without a second thought, you slipped on your shoes and made your way down the hall.

The house was calm, the usual sounds of footsteps and whispered voices muted in the late-morning stillness. Your steps were steady, purposeful but without urgency, as you approached Thomas’ office. You paused briefly outside the door, then pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Thomas” you said, your voice clear but cautious.

He was on the phone — voice low, calm — placing commands. But the moment he heard you, he turned his head. His words clipped short. The papers on his desk were flipped face down in one swift, almost impatient motion—as if it was without second thought.

“Yes… we’ll speak later” he muttered into the receiver, and hung up without another word.

His eyes were on you, something unreadable flickering behind them. Not surprised. Not even concerned. Just attention — sharpened, total, reactive.

“There you are” he said quietly, stepping from behind the desk. “You slept through breakfast again. I was wondering when you’d visit me” he gave a soft grin, something not to tease you, but to reassure you. 

You opened your mouth to explain, to excuse it somehow, but he shook his head gently.

“It’s alright” he added before you could speak. “No one’s rushing you” he assured, as if you were overwhelmed. 

His smile was slow, practiced, like a snake inviting you closer. Hands on his lean waist as stared up and down. He stepped closer, slow and steady — not to corner you, but to close the distance like a man walking toward a fragile thing he didn’t want to break.

You cleared your throat. 

“I’d like to see my siblings” you said. The words came out firmer than you expected, but still carried the edge of weariness.

Tommy’s expression didn’t shift much — like he’s expected this — there was a pause, a flicker of something softer in his brow.

He stood before you.

“You’re sure?” he asked gently. “It’s a lot, love. Seeing them — the memories, the expectations. I just want to make sure it doesn’t undo all the strength you’ve been building back”

“Today” you ignored his concerns. His brows drew together in a faint, studied frown.

There was a pause. Barely a second. But you saw the flicker of disapproval in his eyes.

“We shouldn’t jump the gun” he spoke softly, as if the words weren’t daggers to you.

You snapped — a whip of emotion deeply contained cracked in the room.

“Do you think I’m so fucking fragile that I can’t handle my own family?”

There it was. The tantrum. You finally let go of every emotion bottled up inside. A heavy sigh acted as surrender from him.

“I’m just making sure darling” he promised, voice soft, almost coaxing, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Do you think I’d ask if I wasn’t? Do you think I enjoy rotting in here like some kept thing? I’m not a ghost, Thomas!”

Tommy stood silent, hands behind his back. As if he’s waited for this, only blinking his emotionless eyes as he allowed your anger to fester. 

“You treat me like I’m made of glass” you snapped, voice tight. “You talk about healing and resting like I’m just some broken thing you need to fix. I want my life back, not your schedule. I want to feel something real again” you demanded, your fingers jabbing onto his chest. 

He took it all — expression controlled, mind patient, body restrained. 

“I want out of this house, Tommy. I want to see people who know me—not maids whispering in hallways and doctors who treat me like I’ve already died!”

Your hands shoved him back, he stumbled only by a step, body made of stone. You let your anger heave out, your chest rose and fell. Tommy inched closer to you, stilling for a moment. His hand reached out, rough fingertips brushed over your flustered cheek. 

“I understand, you have every right to be angry with me” he admitted, lowering his voice to a near whisper, his breath warm against your cheek.

You were speechless, your voice croaked. Desperate to continue, but no fuel to run off. 

“I’m just trying to be careful, please believe me. It’s a serious injury, so many small things can trigger anything” he explained, tucking your loose hair behind your ears. “I just need to know you’re safe, I can’t stand seeing you in such distraught. I need to know you’ll be okay” he continued, voice of silk — intentions like smoke.

A pause stretched, thick with unspoken thoughts. His hands tested the waters as he gently squeezed your hips. “They can’t come today, it’s too late. But I’ll call them today, see when they’re free. Have my men bring them here—no trains, no crowds, straight to you” His eyes glinted, sharp and calculating beneath the softness.

It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was more than Tommy was used to giving. As if to reward your obedience, he purred by your ear.

“Thank you” you said quietly, swallowing a rising knot in your throat.

He leaned back, raising his free hand to your cheek, brushing the back of his fingers over your skin. “You’re looking better” he murmured, voice almost tender. “Your skin’s got a bit of glow back. See? You’re healing”

You looked away, the emptiness in your chest still thick. “I don’t feel like it” you argued, stepping away from him. 

“One step at a time, love” he whispered, voice dripping in honey controlled tone. “Sleep well?”

“The same” you muttered.

He moved closer again, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “How about tonight – I will stay with you until you fall asleep. Maybe some company will help your mind find what it’s lost… Maybe you’ll remember us” His gaze was heavy, hypnotic.

You hesitated, feeling the familiar tug of his control. “I don’t know”

“Just until you’re fast asleep. Calm. Peaceful” his arms crossed over his chest, voice softening to a dangerous lullaby. “Think about it, darling”

“Yep” You nodded, trying to steady yourself.

“When you’re sleeping better. I can talk to you. About what happened” he promised. 

So you could sleep worse again?

“I don’t care” the words were flat but resolute.

He sighed, an exasperated sound meant to disarm you. “You haven’t taken your medicine”

“I don’t like how it makes me feel” your voice cracked, despite trying to be brave.

“I know, it’s only for the meantime” he softened, reaching out to brush your hair back from your face, but the touch was possessive, chilling. Your breathing turned stiffer. “Darling, breathe” his tone dropped, nearly commanding. “You’re overwhelmed. You’re confusing yourself again. You just need to trust me”

His arms pulled you into a protective embrace.                                                                 

You tried to speak, but he hushed you, finger pressed gently to your lips. “Shh… breathe” he coached, voice as smooth and cold as ice. You followed his instructions. “That’s my good girl” he smiled. 

“My head hurts” you whispered.

Your eyes squinted at the pain that radiated from your skull. 

“Again?” His jaw tightened. “I’ll call Pol. Maybe she has something better than this hospital bullshit” he suggested, hold still tight over you. 

Your brows knitted together. The name was unfamiliar to your thoughts. 

“Pol?” 

“My aunt, Polly. You still don’t remember her eh? Maybe after we see your sisters and brother I can invite the rest of our family over. Arthur and John keep on calling about you” Tommy made known, a sense of pride in his tone.

“Yeah, maybe” you mumbled, looking away. “Is Polly a doctor or something?” 

“Mhm no, but she knows her way around Gypsy treatments” he mused. 

Tommy had little faith in western medicines. He often believed a lot of evils in the world were due to curses and paying your debts. Of course, he’d have to find exceptions in moments of time running out. But the world was full of spirits, magic and unfinished reckonings. 

Pol knew her way around, she could read you like an open book. She knew Tommy’s heart belonged to you, that he would do anything for you. Polly knew more than most when it came to souls, she’d have something that could relieve you from your internal pain. 

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat” he ordered, voice dipped in sugar. His smile was sharp when it returned. 

You obediently followed, allowing him to lead you to the dining room. 

“Then you can take Charlie to the stables. Richard will take him for a ride” his tone was light, but it carried the weight of command. “The sun will do you good” he finished, confidently. 

Tommy stayed with you in the dining hall until your meal was prepared — mind you, as quickly as possible. His watchful eyes ensured you swallowed your medicine whole. Followed by a promise that he’ll find something better for you.

“Let me call your family, eh?” He smiled, pressing his cold lips to your temple — an ownership claim disguised as affection. 

Tommy headed to the exit, his footsteps deliberate and heavy. He paused by the opening. “Let’s try to finish that plate today, alright?” Tommy put forth, eyes getting a glimpse over your slimming figure. 

You looked down to your plate covered with protein and carbs. There wasn’t much, but it felt like a lot. Slowly nodding your head towards him, he nodded back and left. 

After, you were welcomed by Charlie, holding his arms out to you as Tommy held him on his hip. You took Charlie, a wild smile on his small lips as you bounced him. Tommy exhaled, picking up his briefcase, his jacket hanging over the bag.

“I’ll be back later my love, I’m needed at the factory” Tommy mentioned. “Enjoy your day, I’ll try my best to be home by Charlie’s bedtime” he sighed, rubbing Charlie’s head. “And think about my offer for your bedtime” he winked, his lips marking your forehead. 

As the front door creaked shut, you looked down to Charlie, a contagious smile growing on your lips. Unavoidable whenever you were in his presence. 

“Come on Charlie, let’s take you for a ride” you hummed, leading him to the back entrance of the house. 

The midday air of Arrow House was thick with warmth. The sun casted over you both as you walked the familiar route to the stables. The bees hummed over the green grass, the floral scents reaching your nostrils. Charlie kept his hands clenched onto your dress. 

Going to the stables was one of the only escapes from Arrow House. A quiet, steady place in the world that sets your mind free — even though it was only a short while. It was one of the rare things you and Tommy shared without question — your love for horses. 

You grew up with them, there was always one by your side as you shifted through the years of childhood. A companion who would listen, whose company eased your troubled thoughts, someone who never asked for much. 

Sometimes, when the wind breezed and the scent of hay hit just right, a memory would flicker — your father behind you, steadying your small hands on the reins, his voice low and warm in your ear. The image came like a ghost, compelling to the eye, impossible to hold onto.

“Mrs Shelby” Richard chimed, on his knees as he brushed down one of Tommy’s stallions’ legs. “How are you?” he asked, standing up on his feet and brushing off the hay and dust. The older man gave you a sweet smile, but again, you felt something behind his eyes. 

“I’m good, yourself?” you forced your smile, the lie over yourself. 

You wandered deeper into the stables, placing Charlie down onto his tiny feet as he cheered before the beautiful beasts before him. The space brimmed with warmth, a heavy scent of hay, earth and leather.  

Three grand horses filled the stables, their movements still but aware, ears flickering around and hips swaying. Richard kneeled by Charlie, gently rubbing his head. 

“Which one do you wanna ride today buddy?” Richard asked. 

Charlie spoke gibberish, pointing his finger in every direction. 

Tommy’s broad, black stallion, Salem. The bay roan beauty, Seraphine — Tommy’s gift on your wedding day. A token of your union. A creature of grace and fire. Too beautiful to race. Too rare to let go. And lastly, the only horse you have a true memory of — a deeper connection to — whether you wanted it or not. 

Her Shadow Walks. 

The majestic blue roan stallion, who was a masterpiece to watch over the field. Not for the odds. But her beauty. 

She stood quietly in her stall, her coat sleek and freshly groomed. Her body healed but her spirit was never the same. Her Shadow Walks moved with the grace of a dancer, but the fire had blown out long ago. 

You don’t remember the injury, an unexpected tendon tear. But perhaps that was better. You’d hate to remember the pain she endured, the confusion and fear clouding her mind, trying to comfort her, telling her it would be okay. 

Of course, she recovered. But she would never be as fast as before. Tommy thought it was best to keep her here — safe, protected, at peace. He moved onto the next race horse, but still cherished her as his grand prize. 

She neighed softly as you rubbed her broad neck. A gentle smile rested on your lips as you murmured sweet words to her. 

You wandered the length of the stables as Richard straddled Salem, with Charlie secured in front of him, his little hand grabbing onto the saddle horn. The scent of hay and horse musk hung. 

Your hand brushed Seraphine’s mixed coat – warm bay roan beneath your fingertips. The quietness soothed your mind, you found yourself humming gently. A tune you didn’t remember, but must have known somewhere. 

You slowly drifted towards the fenceline. Leaning against the wooden planks, tilting your face towards the sun to welcome its embrace — just like Ruth urged you to. 

Across the open field, Salem trotted through the grass, you could see Charlie bouncing and hear his laughter here and there. For a moment, everything almost felt whole. 

But then you felt it — a suspicious sensation crawling up your skin.

Pulling your gaze back towards Arrow House, your brows furrowed. Two men in peaked caps lingered near the hedgerow, like shadows cast by something colder. Their presence was sharp and unsettling.

You tried to shake off the prickling chill crawling up your spine, but it coiled deep and stubborn, like a snake ready to strike.

Their eyes tracked your every movement, even though they played it off by having a gentle chat between a cigarette.

Arrow House was safe, Tommy assured it. They weren’t protectors, or allies. You weren’t being watched over. You were being watched.

And in that moment, with the sun heating your skepticism, the two stallions resting a few metres behind you — you realised something.

You were no freer then they were, nor safer. 

The wedding bands you wore weren’t a symbol of unison, but ownership.

[ittiseinboo]

Hi, I hope you're okay. Are you still open to requests? And if so, are you too?

Could you do a Sebastian x Reader angst scene? Perhaps, tired of Sebastian's rejection and cruel treatment, they decide to give up on Sebastian and focus entirely on getting the crystal back. This comes after Sebastian broke them and said many cruel things to her, from not caring that he liked her to telling her she means nothing to him.

Torn In Pieces

Summary: After Sebastian’s rejection and cruel behavior towards you, you decided to reevaluate your goals in the blacksite.

 Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, angst AND more angst, mentions of death, Sebastian gets a bit aggressive.

Tags: Sebastian Solace x female! Reader, heartbreak, angst, betrayal.

A/N: Hey anon! Thank you for the request, and apologies for the ending being a bit rushed or even cringe, I didn’t want to drag out some of the material within this piece. I hope this is to your liking, enjoy! :)

Sebastian was someone who from the beginning you viewed as your ally and eventually your friend. When you two first met he was obviously hostile toward you during your interactions but it’s a given since he was like that with all of the Expendables to be frank.

Your guys’ friendship was one that didn’t happen over night but rather over time the more you came into his shop. You were an Expendable to be exact, but a local and valuable customer in his eyes, he enjoyed your company the more you stuck around and even gave you discounts as well as allowed you to get rest in his shop to replenish your energy after multiple run-ins with the entities around the blacksite.

Over time he eventually started to open up more to you and share his plans on escaping the blacksite with Painter also promising to get you out of there too as well, ensuring your safety and true freedom from Urbanshade and their sneaky affairs.

He was so convincing in his promises that it made you call off your individual search for the crystal and join forces with him and Painter, while staying out of Urbanshade’s radar. You would deceive the other Expendables into thinking that you were just like them; A lonely soul desperately fighting for their freedom, but in your case you were not helping them fight for their freedom but rather to their own demise. What looked like you leading them to perfectly good doors, rooms or even spaces was actually you leading them into traps eliminating them one by one, slowing down their progress towards their main goal.

The more time you spent around and with Sebastian the more your feelings grew for him, and honestly you didn’t know how to handle them. 

On days if you were away from Sebastian’s shop, you would stop by Painter’s room and doodle with him, but today he could tell that something was bothering you.

“So what have you been up to lately?”

“Oh nothing much, you know the same old routine I have any other day there’s not much you can change while being stuck here in the blacksite every single waking moment of your life it seems like. But enough about me, how’ve you been?”

He picks up on the dull tone in your voice, “Hey Y/N can I ask you something if you don’t mind?”

“Sure, go right ahead.”

“What’s on your mind? I can tell something's eating at you. It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it, I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you, not just as another individual, but as your friend and I don’t want you to continue suffering in silence.”

You smile at his words, but it doesn’t reach your eyes as it usually does.

“Heh, wow was I really being that obvious? How could you tell?”

“Well for starters you’ve been retracing the same heart on your page and staring off into space for the past thirty minutes. Girl, you’re literally spaced out like an astronaut right now.”

“Touché.” Your grip on the pencil becomes tighter, which causes it to snap into two pieces, not before creating a split down the middle of your page where the heart was sketched.

You take a few shaky deep breaths, “I’ve been feeling a bit scared lately, terrified even.”

“Of what exactly?” Granted, that did seem like a dumb question given the circumstances of you guys being in the blacksite surrounded by disfigured and spooky-looking entities, but Painter knew that was the case for you, he knew how brave and fearless you were, and had seen you on the cams in action, dodging and hiding from entities 7 times your size. He knew that it had to be something else, far worse in your mind, that was too much for you to handle.

“I think…I think I have feelings for Sebastian. Wait, I don't think I have feelings for him…I KNOW I do. I know I’m in love with him and that’s what scares me the most.” You hug yourself tightly.

A small understanding smile forms on his face at his friend’s declaration of love, “What about that scares you? Shouldn’t that be a good thing right?”

“I’m just afraid that if I confess to him things between us would change for the worst especially to have him hate me or reject me because of it.” You try your best to keep down the suffocating sensation of a sob building up in your throat, but your emotions consume any willpower to do so, you let it out.

Painter gives you a couple minutes to regather yourself before speaking again, “I wish there was something more I can do to comfort you better besides talking or watching you cry, I really wish that I could be there next to you physically to give you a hug,” He pauses before continuing, “If it helps, I think you should just go for it and give it a shot, tell him how you feel.”

“But what if he doesn’t-”

“Enough with using the buts and what-ifs in a negative manner, have you even thought of the possibility that he might like you back? How would you even know if you never asked him?”

You let his words marinate in your mind, “Well when you put it like that, what do you think I should do next?”

“Well from this point, I think you should go and talk to him, if you continue to keep this to yourself then you’ll be left with the fantasy of what did or didn’t happen,” He smiles again but more to himself this time, “Plus I like the idea of you to coming together as one, to express your love in ways that’ll be able to repair the brokenness within you.”

You slowly stand up and make your way over to the table he is placed upon, you then wrap your arms around his monitor and close your eyes, “You always know the right thing to say even when I can’t form the words to say it myself, if that makes sense?” Painter’s express mirrors your own soft and gleeful smile, “Heh I get what you’re trying to say, I’m always happy to help you my friend.”

Before you leave his room to head to Sebastian’s shop you flip to a clean page in your notebook and write a handwritten letter to the man that contained a majority of the things you admired about him, you spilled your whole soul into that letter.

“I’ll catch you later, Painter. I'll let you know how it all turns out .”

“Good luck!”

What the two of you didn’t know was that Sebastian heard the entire conversation, word for word, bar for bar, on the other end of the communication line that Painter forgot to mute.

You make your way through the vent, with the letter held gently in your hands. As you enter you’re through off by the darkness of the shop, you assume two things; He was either sleeping or he was out on a run for supplies, which you found to be odd because he would usually tell you or Painter of his whereabouts and what he was up to. But you came to notice a dim light flicker in the dark.

“Sebastian?” You call out hoping to get some sort of a response to see if he was in there.

You hear a distant and cold hum in response and locate the flickering light source to be the bulb on his head, so he is here you think to yourself. “ Can’t you see I’m busy working?”

“Working in the dark?”

He scoffs, “What exactly are you here for anyway?” He already knows what you’re here for but instead he tries to play it off to see what you were really going to say now that you were in his shop.

“I’m here to see you of course, I’ve got something to tell you….something that you may or may not want to hear…something that took a small pep talk and a lots of courage to bring myself to do.” You have a gentle smile as you fiddle with the corners of the letter that you shaped into a heart.

“Speaking isn’t really gonna do me much justice right now because I want to prevent myself from getting too emotional and also no words can really describe how deep my feelings run for you. That’s why I also wrote this letter in hopes of getting some of the thoughts out that I have of you.” He fully turns on the light and his expression is unreadable as he reaches to grab the letter out of your hand, he examines the heart-shaped letter then a few seconds later he rips it in half, it resembled that of a broken heart which he let fall to your feet.

“W-w-why did you do that?! What is wrong with you? Did you even read it?!” You say flabbergasted.

He finally looks directly at you, his expression went from being unreadable to one which said “I hate your entire existence”

He lets out a bitter laugh, “From the very first day that we met, I knew that I’d hurt you eventually. Guess this should be a lesson in not trusting just anyone, am I right?”

“Seb what the hell are you talking about?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? I’m a terrible person, a monster even, we were never fucking friends, all I know how to do is hurt people and yet you still went ahead like a dumbass and believed I cared about you. When were you going to realize that I was only using you this whole time?” He sneered at you, “Did you really think that I was going to love you back even though you were just a pawn in my plan.?”

All of your previous fears and worries you’ve felt before coming here completely vanished and went straight out the door.

“You wanna know something funny? I’ve gotten my heart broken so many times but never like this. No one has ever broken my heart like this before and I didn’t think you’d be the one to do it.”

“Maybe it was a good thing that I talked some sense into you then, to keep you from staying in la la land. It’s not like I even cared about you anyways” He makes lazy gestures with his hand.

“So tell me this though, was any moment of our time together real for you? Please help me understand what led up to things getting to this point? I thought we were friends, Seb.”

He looks away with a shrug, “Haven’t you ever heard the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer? Why do you think I would ever befriend someone who is working for a side that’s fighting their hardest to prevent me from being free?”

“Look me in my eyes and tell me all of that isn’t true.” You firmly stand in place, not making any move to leave, you honestly have a hard time believing that all of what he’s said so far is the truth. It just feels too sudden and out of character for him, all those times he laughed and joked with you, the gentle side he showed you, all the promises he made to you, and yet he claims all of that wasn’t real. You need a real answer from him.

His head turns toward you slowly and his eyes grow dark, “I don’t see a future with you, I never have and I never will. None of it was real and I never wished for it to be real. I wouldn’t even care if Urbanshade decided to detonate you right in front of me, I wouldn’t even shed a single tear for you. I hate everything about you. Get out of my sight!”

“I was ready to give you my heart but you took it and ripped it into pieces. From now on I’ll do everything in my power to prevent you from seeing the light of day above the surface, from now on I want to continue seeing to suffer down here with no way out of leaving this prison. You’re dead to me.”

Without letting him get another word in you make your way towards the exit to start back on your journey toward achieving the crystal, as you make your way into the hallway you notify Urbanshade on Sebastian’s location.

“I have coordinates on the whereabouts on Mr. Z-13 himself, The Saboteur. Make sure you send additional units to this location…”

[dhwty-writes]

the mortifying ordeal of being loved by your friends

[katyspersonal]

*has another bad memory activated after a chat* I remember at the beginning of me joining the BB fandom, in summer 2021, I had the worst luck ever of attracting a person over discussing Izzy with now deactivated user, who instantly jumped at me with so much warmth, interest, questions, engagement and trust that by that time not even my friends were so affectionate

We exchanged Discords and chatted for a week or two, and I was feeling so, so, SO safe. It's been after a what, three years period of emotional abuse from every corner, loneliness, depression and meds? It felt like a final healing ray of warm sunshine after the longest and coldest night. She (at least it was her pronouns back then, dunno if it changed by now or not) wished me good night and good morning and was so genuinely invested in talking to me, I thought I've found a new friend.

......then, one morning, I messaged her a headcanon I thought she'd like, but saw that she blocked me on Discord. And Tumblr. I did not know why, so I asked a shared mutual to ask her what happened on my behalf. But while waiting for that mutual, the pain grew so severe that I no longer wanted to know. I simply made a throwaway account on Tumblr to tell her in her face how much it hurt and that she should not lure people with fake sense of trust and warmth if she is ready to just backstab them like this. And what did she do? Well, she posted a rant about me in her blog, namedropping me so people could "stay safe", pretending like I've done sone irreparable harassment to her when I just told her to not act like a friend and then bail without explanation, and worse: she revealed that all along, she was reading some twisted emotional manipulation in my messages when I was just being socially awkward, and instead of addressing her problems with me in MY face, she was showing my messages to her friends to discuss with them how """manipulative""" I was and took their advice to block me and run. 🤦‍♂️

Needless to mention that as soon as Eugene started a crusade number 2 against me, she instantly joined her on this one like "heeeey guys I am a victim of this horrible abusive monster too, she MANIPULATED me and HARASSED me when I tried to get away!!!!" 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

Ever since she blocked me after acting very affectionate and friendly in every way possible, I've had nightmares about her for half a year and I still, to this day, feel scared every time I hit a good conversation with someone in the fandom. I always get paranoid that they, too, might read nonexistent malice in my messages and discuss the level of my "harm" behind my back. After what she did I struggled to trust anyone in the fandom. But of course she acted like she was the victim who got harmed here. All because she could not address her suspicions of me in my face and because I told her "don't fucking cultivate strong trust only to break it"!

Fuck you, Spade, you deserve my hatred even after all this time, and I'll hate you until I stopped second-guessing everyone I chat with. Which is still a problem I have. I hate people who throw words of affection and warmth around like they mean nothing and then act all weirded out when people they got to trust them, big shock, started to TRUST them! "We weren't even friends we only talked for like two weeks!!!! 🥺" then why you did literally everything to act like a friend to me? And I sure hate people who can't even say "Hey, this thing you say makes me feel unsafe like you want to get certain reaction from me, can you Not" instead of talking bad faith trash about me behind my back. I hope a moment of fame feeling like a victim of terrible abuse was worth it, huh? God, you should become friends with Anna, you two are horribly similar.

[villain-in-love]

I was rereading those posts that explain what happened with Thistle blocking Kiera's magic and locking her up and I keep thinking about this part-

Kiera when Thistle is being sweet and caring towards her:

[mychemikuromance]

Ugh

[itslookingback]

:/

[portugalisinsa]

#going into the tags hoping i'd see some book reccs but its all discourse ;w;#well i'm not gonna claim these are all highly intellectual works but here's some of my fave adult fantasies#tainted cup by robert jackson bennett#the thief by megan whalen turner#winnowing flame trilogy by jen williams#locked tomb series by tamsym muir#goblin emperor and witness for the dead by katherine addison#a natural history of dragons by marie brennan#the mountain in the sea by Ray Naylor#god killer by hannah kaner#temeraire and scholomance by naomi novik#october daye by seanan mcguire#i'm also getting into t kingfisher books :)#gods of wyrdwood by r j barker was also good#i really need to find more books by non-white authors tho

No babe it’s so cool and hot that you always insist that fantasy books written to meet a 4th graders’ comprehension skills have more complex themes and a greater sense of praxis than anything written for adults

[meowdei]

“Muah,” you beam, pressing a soft peck into Sylus’s cheek. “Muah!”

Another. And another. And another scattered little kiss along the skin of his face as he sits with you situated comfortably on his lap, hands tracing up and down your hips. It’s late—somewhere close to the sun’s routine time to rise, and somewhere close to Sylus’s routine time to fall asleep. He’s a lot easier to bend to your whims like this, when he’s tired and limp under you and lets you have your way.

He hums, curling his lips into an sleepy smile as he murmurs, “you missed a spot.”

“You don’t get to get picky when you get free affection,” you say instantly.

His smile drops. Something of a grouchy scowl (that’s more like a pout, if you’re being honest) drapes along his lips and forces them into that downward curl. Your lips do the exact opposite, curling up at the sight of his dissatisfaction.

“Well, sweetie,” he drawls, “who knew you could be so stingy?”

“I’m not being stingy,” you grin, purposely missing his lips as you press your next kiss, landing it right over his Cupid’s bow and watching as his eyes flash impatiently. “I’m teaching you a valuable lesson.”

“Which is?”

“We don’t always get what we want.”

“Funny,” Sylus quirks a brow, that awful, terrible, nightmarish and dangerous smug look returning to his features as his eyes narrow, “because I always get what I want. It’s as simple as taking it.

The room is spinning and shifting and tilting on its axis as you feel everything move in a blur—one second you’re on top of him, sat on his lap, and the next second he’s hovering over you, melting your body into the mattress like it could swallow you whole under his weight.

“Sylus!” You screech, earning a low chuckle from him, “get off of me you brute!”

“Not until you give me what I want.”

“No!”

“Then I’m not moving.”

And true to his word, he settles himself on top of you, promptly pressing all his body weight over yours as his drapes his figure on top of you. He’s heavy—in a pleasant sort of way. He feels like comfort and home and warmth pressing into you and crushing your bones with nothing more than body mass and willpower. You like it. And as if on cue, your hand instinctively finds the back of his head to smooth through his hair.

Sometimes your body just does that. Admits he’s what you want and what you need against its will. Admits it likes him there and welcomes him like your souls are two halves of a whole—one involuntary muscle responding to him at a time.

“You’re heavy,” you whine.

“This could all be solved rather simply if you’d just give me a proper kiss, sweetheart. But you insist on hissing like a stray kitten in an alleyway.”

“And it’s just too easy to ruffle your feathers,” you giggle, rubbing a hand along the nape of his neck and feeling him shiver under your touch, “who knew a kiss could have you so worked up?”

“I’m not worked up,” he grumbles quietly. You smile wider. He pinches your hips in warning without even looking at you.

“Spoiled,” you murmur, “that’s what you are.”

“Spoiled is what you are with how you swipe my card,” he retorts, earning a glare from you. His eyes are half lidded—heavy, and tired, and slowly closing shut against his will as he stifles a yawn, giving you a poor attempt at a smirk.

“No kisses for you forever.”

“I think that’ll cause you more distress than me in the long run.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of talking?” You huff exhaustedly.

“I’ll stop talking long enough for a quick nap if you give me a proper kiss,” he negotiates. Like the proper, opportunistic business man that he is. So good at playing his cards right and getting the deal he wants so badly, just enough that he always walks away with the better end of the stick.

Sly, you’d call it.

Persuasive, he’d correct.

And you’re convinced. Persuaded and swayed into his trap because all he has to do is give you those sweet, tired little blinks of his eyes and that hopeful little look as he stares at your lips before you cave and fold like a piece of paper into his awaiting palms.

“You’ll finally sleep and leave me alone if I give you a kiss?” You pretend to bargain.

He nods earnestly, “oh yes, sweetie. I’ll be out like a light faster than you can call Mephisto over to be witness of our deal.”

“Okay,” you roll your eyes. “One kiss.”

“So stingy,” he chuckles.

“I’m not—”

He kisses you. Props his head up, still blanketing you with all his weight as he kisses you softly. Like he means it. Lips carving out lips like he’s mean to mold your flesh to fit the shape of his. You gasp, and he lets out a soft sigh into your mouth, closing his eyes and pressing into you as much as he can.

When your hands twist into his hair, he lets out a soft groan, slumping more weight into you (if that’s even possible) before his breathing gets shallower.

When he finally pulls away, his head tucks itself back into your neck as he mumbles, “told you I’d get what I want.”

It comes out like a soft slur. Your eyes widen instantly.

“Sylus, no—I have to get up for the day so don’t even think about—”

He’s asleep. Heavy, limp, and comfortably on top of you. You try a sad, futile attempt to shove him off, but he’s stuck. Glued to you like his life depends on it. (Sometimes it does, you think. Sometimes it feels like he lives only for you. Only knows how to breathe when he’s sure you’re there to listen to his soft breaths.)

“You asshole,” you mutter, “you spoiled, obnoxious asshole.”

He always gets what he wants—the feeling of your delicate body under his, and the nails that trace his scalp softly in defeat are good enough proof of that.

Early bday drabble. Long fic to come. Stay tuned. This is a sylus only blog. I don’t even like mydei even a little bit. What else? I think I’ve covered all my bases

[froothytoothy]

Your Idol

Saja Boys x Idol! Reader │ part 2

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summary - the saja boys finally get to meet you, although they aren't too happy with the way you've been treated

warning - fem reader, light bullying, a lil spice, possessive behaviour, obsessive fan behaviour

w/c - 3,3K

a/n - wish I could like comments, the ones I got on my previous chapter had me BLUSHING I love u all sm! pls correct me if there are any mistakes, comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, hope you enjoy!

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Blurred sounds scattered across you as you began to wake up. Your eyes were still blurry, so you couldn't make out the figures surrounding you, but they sounded oddly familiar. 

"Guys, shut up. She's awake".

A warmer, much larger hand grabs yours, "Are you alright now, love? You were out for a while, we were all so worried".

The stranger sounded nice, but your vision still hadn’t cleared up enough to figure out who was talking to you, so all you could do was stare blankly at the person holding your hand. 

The room went silent for a while before being interrupted by another man from your left. "I know she's just confused, but I can't lie that face she's making is so adorable". You assumed he was talking about you and a warm blush coated your cheeks. 

"Romance, now is not the time!"

Romance? As in, from the Saja Boys? 

Your vision soon came back, and surrounding you, you could see all five members of the Saja Boys, each staring at you fondly. 

Abby was the one holding your hand. He was sitting on the infirmary bed with you and Jinu. 

Mystery and Romance were on your left.

And Baby was on your right. 

You couldn't help the gasp you let out once you saw them. 

"Am I dreaming?" you accidentally said aloud. 

Jinu lets out a chuckle, "No darling, we are very much real. I could pinch you if you don't believe me. Are you feeling better now?"

You beamed, eyes sparkling with happiness. It almost sounded too good to be true, but still, you went along with it. 

After being trapped in the studio, you assumed you were too late to meet them. and concluded that it was nearly impossible for a group as popular as the Saja Boys to join a company as small as yours. Talking with other idols, especially those of the opposite gender, at things like award shows wasn't forbidden, but it was strange, so today was probably your only opportunity to meet them, and you did.

Albeit in a very unconventional way.

"I'm feeling a lot better now, thank you so much. I'm so happy to meet you guys, I'm such a big fan. But, what are you doing here with me? Shouldn't you be touring the company?" you questioned, finding it odd how they weren't with Jina, but with you.

“You passed out in Abby’s arms, how could we just leave and pretend nothing happened?” Baby spoke up calmly, although his eyes glistened with hints of worry. Your heart warmed at their thoughtfulness. 

According to Hojin and the other staff members, you weren't an important member, so they often ended up forgetting about you. Whenever something happened to you, they told you to just suck it up.

But despite never meeting you, the Saja Boys already cared so much about you. So much that they would wait here in the infirmary with you. 

Suddenly, you were reminded that you had forgotten to introduce yourself.

“Sorry, I forgot to say, I’m (Y/N). I'm a member of Harmoness. It's an honour to meet you”. You bowed your head, mostly in gratitude. If it weren't for them you'd probably still be stuck in the dance studio.

“We know who you are, princess. We did our research before coming here”, Romance teases, getting closer to the bed and putting his arm around your shoulders. You shivered at the close proximity between you. He began to lean closer, slowly closing the distance. By now, your body had frozen in place, your eyes locked into his. His every move was under your impenetrable gaze. You could see his lips coming closer and closer to yours, till they quickly diverted towards your ear. 

You'd be lying if you said you weren't just a bit disappointed.

The feeling of his warm breath and strong grip had your mind in a frenzy. He was so close you could feel the heat radiate off him and smell the sweet, but musky scent of his cologne. 

“Although you should know, princess, most of our information was from one of us,” he began, turning his head to the side. You followed his gaze, being too curious to stay frozen. 

Your mouth hung slightly in shock once your eyes made contact with an awkward-looking Mystery. His feet were shuffling across the ground, and his head was drooped down, almost like he was guilty of something. 

Romance walked away from you, much to your dismay, and came back dragging Mystery, who seemed very unwilling. “Go on, man, you can do it. You've been waiting so long for this moment”.

Mystery refused, shaking his head firmly. Watching the scene unfold was the equivalent of watching someone grow an extra head. You were left utterly confused. Why would Mystery know anything about you? Them doing research before coming here made sense, but out of all the people they got their information from, why was it Mystery? 

Mystery was the cool, mysterious figure of the group, so watching him act like this, so embarrassed, it was honestly so adorable. Perhaps the mysterious, quiet persona he had was just a cover-up for his shy personality.

Romance shook his head in disappointment. “Mystery is a big fan of yours, (Y/N). He's a little too shy to admit it, though”. You blinked slowly, taking in the revolutionary, newfound information. For a moment, you thought you had heard him wrong.

Mystery, a fan?

Of you?

You were surprised that he even knew about you, but being a “big fan”, it just seemed impossible. 

A monotone-like voice perked up, “Ever since you debuted, I've been a fan”. Taking a closer look at Mystery, you could see a red hue crawling up his neck and ears. Just saying that much was too much for him, but he pushed through the embarrassment and continued, slowly coming closer to you. “Honestly, I didn't care about the others, I only liked you”.

Despite how unbelievable it was, it was the truth. Before being recruited by Jinu and becoming one of the Saja Boys, Mystery had been obsessed with you since your debut. His time in the Underworld became a lot more bearable once you entered his life. The image of your warm smile burned layers into his brain. He’d seen countless hours of footage of other humans, and despite his very stoic face, he could tell how fake their smiles were, but yours. Yours was carved by angels.

His need to consume human souls almost completely subsided once his hunger was directed towards you.

Although it was a very different type of hunger.

Mystery had become completely infatuated with you, so when Jinu proposed that he join the Saja Boys, he knew this was his way of finally getting to you. 

And now you were finally right in front of him, but all those hours of planning were in vain. He just couldn't find the right words to say. Couldn't figure out how to stand or move right. His heart wouldn't stop beating, and his head wouldn't stop replaying the images from his fantasies. It was all too much at once. He was glad Romance had stepped in to help. 

You sat there, blissfully unaware of the turmoil occurring within Mystery. The other members stared at the both of you in amusement, knowing just how deep Mystery's obsession with you was. When he talked, it was only ever about you. 

And once the members saw you passed out in Abby's arms, they could finally understand him. They could smell the purity radiating off you, and with that, a warm, longing feeling overcame them. They would often tease Mystery for his strange fixation with you, but now they were all just as crazy about you. 

An adorable, child-like giggle interrupted their thoughts. You thought it was silly how someone as talented as Mystery would be a fan of someone like you. He even said he didn't care about the other members, which you found even more amusing. 

Still, it made your heart flutter knowing you were special to him. You looked up at him and smiled even wider, almost laughing at the confused look on Mystery’s face. “Thank you for your support! I never would've thought I'd be saying that kinda thing to someone like you. I figured I was so irrelevant that no one would notice me, but it's crazy how you guys do”, you babble, oblivious to the changing emotions going through the boys.

‘Irrelevant’

The word sent ripples of disgust through them. 

Being the most level-headed of the group, Jinu asked the question that was on everyone’s minds. “Why would you be irrelevant?” 

Maybe it was because you’d just woken up, or the lack of food in your stomach, that you ended up speaking without thinking. “My manager likes to tell me that a lot because I'm the least popular member of Harmoness. But he thinks that that’s a good thing because my looks and vocals aren't very good”. 

Looking around the room, you realized you had chosen the wrong dialogue. You could see each of their faces, drenched in what looked like rage. You couldn't understand what about your sentence made them this angry, but still you apologized. 

“Sorry, I'm just rambling at this point. It's probably cause I'm so hungry, that's probably why I passed out. My manager has me on this really strict diet and I never had breakfast-”.

You quickly stopped yourself, realizing that this definitely wasn't helping the situation.

“I wasn't supposed to tell you that, please just forget everything you heard”. But looking around the room, you knew they wouldn't be able to. How could they, when someone as precious as you was forced to suffer, even just for a minute. It broke their hearts to think about. 

The sound of a door slamming open quickly drew your attention towards it, and you could see Baby running out of the room in a hurry. 

Did you do something to upset him? 

“He's just going to do something real quick, he'll be back,” Abby says, and you nod, still a bit confused. 

You felt a wave of awkwardness enter the room, so you quickly changed the subject. “So, how did you guys find the tour? Are you thinking of joining?” You were very curious to know, praying that they’d at least consider it. Because of their explosive popularity, you knew they'd be treated like gods if they were here.

Jinu spoke up, still looking frustrated. “It was alright, I mean people did keep sucking up to us. Although, Romance and Abby had no complaints about that”. You let out another giggle, yeah, that definitely sounded like them. 

The sweet sound that came out of you had put the boys in a temporary trance. To them, everything you did was adorable.

They didn't bother asking what you thought of the company, already knowing how mistreated you were. It was something Mystery had picked up on from looking at hours of behind-the-scenes footage of you. He’d picked up on your changing behaviour, quick weight loss, and awkward chemistry between your members. 

So after piecing together all the footage, he figured mistreatment was definitely plausible. But still, hearing it from you, seeing you try to hide it. It sickened, not just him, but all of them. 

It was also suspicious the way your ‘leader’, Jina, wasn't too pleased about the idea of helping you. She was confident someone would come find you, but from your screams, they could tell no one had come for hours. How could they just walk away from you? Plus, you seemed a little too attached to Abby’s chest, even refusing to let go once you reached the infirmary. 

Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing Baby holding several kinds of unhealthy-looking junk food. He plopped them down on your lap and looked away nonchalantly, “For you”.

You looked down at the pile, mouth watering at the sight of the buffet of calories. You couldn't remember the last time you had a burger, or even instant noodles. It was definitely too much for you to handle, but you appreciated his efforts. 

“Thank you so much”, you beamed. You were so grateful, not just to Baby, but to all of them. Never in your life had you felt so loved and cared for. 

As if possessed, you began digging into whatever random food you picked up from the pile. You scarfed down one burger for the next, and honestly, you didn't feel ashamed.  It would’ve been rude if you didn't eat the food Baby bought for you, that's the only reason you were eating it, you thought. 

Due to the speed of your consumption, you forgot to chew and ended up choking. You started coughing and looking around the room, in search of a drink. A hand touched your shoulder, and you look up to see Mystery, holding a bottle of water. 

Quickly, you took the drink and gulped it down. Once you were done you exhaled in relief, “You saved me”, you laughed, looking up at Mystery with gratitude. “I've not eaten this much in so long, I must've gotten a bit too excited”.

You turned to Baby, who was on his phone, and asked, “How much was all this? I'll pay you back”. He turned, looking bored, before returning to his phone. 

“The staff gave it to me for free”.

Honestly, you found that hard to believe, but maybe it was because of how famous Baby was. Perhaps they wanted to give a good impression of the company, so they didn’t want him paying. 

The others let out a small smirk, knowing what had really happened out there. He most likely sucked out the souls of some of the staff and took the food for himself. But he wouldn't tell you that. 

The sweet moment was eventually ruined by the sounds of agitated screaming coming from behind the door. “She ruined everything, Manager! I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen”.

Everyone, including you, cringed at the sounds of complaint. You prepared for the whirlpool of trouble you were about to receive. 

The door burst open, revealing a pissed, middle-aged man. His gaze locked on you, his mouth wide open, ready to scream at you. That was until he saw the five boys surrounding you, each looking at the manager with a look that could kill. 

Hojin quickly put on a rehearsed smile and came up to ask how you were. You knew it was just an act, something to look better in front of the boys but you still went along with it; you’d done enough to damage his reputation already.

Behind him, you could see your fellow members, glaring at you from the door, but once their eyes made contact with the Saja Boys, they quickly switched up, putting on a perfect smile and even fixing up their hair. The boys responded with a snarl.

“So, boys, I take it you enjoyed the tour,” Hojin remarked, not wanting to focus on you any longer. To him, the Saja Boys were a prize, and he needed to win it. Harmoness had clearly run its course, so maybe he'd have better luck with the Saja boys, he thought. 

None of the boys wanted to answer, especially not to someone like him. All they wanted to do was go back to watching you. Watch you smile. Hear you giggle. And feel the warmth your heart gave out. But they couldn't, not when there were others around.

Jinu, being the leader, was forced to speak up. “It was good, definitely needs some improvements though”.

“Oh, any suggestions?” Hojin questioned, eager to please in any way he could. 

“The dance studio needs to be closer to other people,” he sneered coldly, still not over how you’d been trapped for so long. His heart ached with the thought of you being scared and alone in there.

Hojin laughed awkwardly, not knowing what to say in response. Jina spoke up, coming closer to Jinu, “I'm assuming you're planning on joining our company, I'd love to see you more,” she flirts, getting closer and closer to him. 

During the tour, she was so focused on the members that they barely got anywhere. She also had a nasty habit of showing off whenever she could. Being the most popular member of Harmoness really gave her an ego.

“We'll let you know at the Idol Awards,” Jinu said, backing away from Jina. 

Your head shot up and turned towards Jinu, “You're going to be at the Idol Awards too?” Jinu's eyes went back to yours and immediately softened, feeling you were much easier to be around than these other pesky humans. 

You could see Abby about to respond, but was cut off by Soo-ah. “Doesn't she know anything? They announced this weeks ago”. Each of the boys turned to glare at the maknae, but her attention was too focused on you for her to take notice. 

Abby ignored her and spoke, leaning closer to you. “We'll be at the Idol Awards performing our new song, will you be there for us, love?”

Hojin and the girls looked at each other in confusion. How could you have gotten so close to them already? Jina was especially jealous, wondering how the spotlight was taken by someone as insignificant as you. 

The nickname sent you blushing, and you nodded. “We're also going to perform a new song there, we've been working really hard on it!”

“We can't wait to hear it, darling, but unfortunately, we have to leave now,” Jinu says, and you couldn't help the frown forming on your lips. You felt like you had just met them and wanted to spend more time with them. This is the best moment you've had in years. 

“Don't look too sad, princess, we'll meet again soon,” Romance smirked, and you perked up slightly at the thought. You were glad they wanted to see you, just as much as you wanted to see them. 

“And don't even think about paying me back for the snacks, they're all yours,” Baby chimes, his face showing a ghost of a smirk on it. 

Mystery gave you a shy wave and left along with the others. You were going to miss them. The Idol Awards weren’t that far away, but you had no idea how you were going to recover once they were gone. The mark they left on you stained layers deep. 

Although it definitely motivated you to practice even harder, knowing they were going to be there watching.

Jinu was the last to leave, but not before asking Hojin and the girls to come outside with him, leaving you alone. Thank goodness, you did not want another lecture from anyone right now. 

You started putting the pile of food on the nightstand, but something had caught your eye. On one of the crisp packets, you saw a Post-it note. 

xx-xxxx-xxxx  call me don't text I want to hear your voice ❤ - Baby 

Out of all the things you expected the note to say, it wasn't that. Despite his adorable, nonchalant on-stage persona, Baby was anything but. In person, he often kept to himself, hardly speaking and allowing his looks to do the talking for him. But online, he was the complete opposite. With his appearance hidden, he could speak his mind freely. It’s why Baby is so attached to using his phone.

It had been the reason why he was acting so bored when he was with you. On the outside, it looked as though he hardly cared for you, but on the inside, his heart was blooming with emotions just for you.

You really had no idea just how much these boys loved you. In your mind, you assumed the boys just wanted to be your friend.

What you didn't realize was that the boys weren't interested in being just friends, but so much more. 

But you were going to find that out soon. 

Very soon. 

────────────────────────────

a/n - thank you @jellyjellyghost for letting me know how to format korean phone numbers :D

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[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 9 — HE'S A VIRGIN

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — diluc, capitano, xiao, alhaitham

— warnings. — fem! reader, virgin genshin men, inexperienced af, pussy drunk, established relationship, they're kinda whiny

⚝ — DILUC

diluc's desire to feel you for the first time became a confession, touched by a form of surrender— you see, he wasn't simply aroused— no, he was devastated by wanting, exiled from himself by the unbearable mercy of being allowed to want at all and now, wow, as you laid on top of him with his dick tightly pressed between your soaked folds, his dreams of losing his virginity to you may finally come true.

"c-can i touch you there?" but he's nervous, very much so, and slightly embarrassed too, he asks it like a man asking for absolution, his voice a faltering ruin, each word shuddering out of him as if it were a sin to be spoken aloud, "here?" you coo back as you silently wiggle your hips against his erection while slanting down so your tits would squeeze against his exposed, glistening chest.

"y-yeah, fuuck— right there," his breath staggers in his chest, a rhythm broken and uneven, the shame of his own desire rolling through him like a sickness, and yet he wants, archons, he wants.

not with the wildness of instinct, but with the slow, torturous need of someone who has denied himself for too long— someone who thinks he might disintegrate if he were to feel your sopping cunt for the first time tonight, how you'd clench around him might make him lose his mind or if you were to tighten up and trap him in a torturous, yet equally delirious milking compression until you've sucked him dry of all he had.

you willfully grant diluc's wish as you let his tip in for the first time, to test the waters, yes, to see how he'd react the moment your wet heat would finally engulf his head in endless lust and love.

he’s never been touched like that before, not like this, not skin to skin, not soul to soul.

and now, he's got his dick halfway in like a temptation draped in warmth, the presence of your walls melting around him unbearable in its mercy as the nearness of your slippery warmth feels obscene, or, somewhat, divine.

perhaps even both.

you guide his hand to your hips as you move up and down up and down, your pussy squelching as he gasps out in realization— quiet, strangled— and when he finally makes contact with your sweet spots deep inside, something in him fractures.

not the lust that was exploding within him, something older, something buried, yet his eyes squeeze shut at last as his lips part with a sound that might be relief, or might be agony due to the fact that in all honesty— if it wasn't for his immense self control, he would've already emptied his seed into the deepest depths of your cunt.

you begin to ride him crueler, obscene sounds of wetness accentuating the room as diluc's face exposes the truth— and fuck, his angel face and thick dick made it impossible for you not to become simply flustered while looking at his slacked jaw— it’s a battlefield between restraint and longing, a map of a man quietly coming undone.

and it's your fault, your doing.

his lips were parted, soft and wet from breathing too hard as his throat works visibly when you ride him harder, greedier, grinding your pussy back and forth his pretty dick as your hands comfort his face, allowing him to melt into your touch.

he's slowly adjusting and becoming better at this, stealing a couple thrusts from you as he fucks into you like a madman, his brows drawing tight in a furrow of helplessness when he couldn't stop his hips from pounding into your pussy over and over— being entranced by how good you felt, how warm and wet and soft your pussy felt and fuck, please make this never stop, okay? you must promise diluc for it to never stop.

⚝ — CAPITANO

capitano wasn't a wordy man, nor was he showy man either— but the weight of him was unbearable, his memories and his past— and in the way he touches you, it's like he's memorizing ruin, "tell me if this is too much for you," you tease him while adjusting his cock head with your hole.

he towers above you wide and manly, with his breathing barely cutting through the air— it's low, raw, "you better tell me," and capitano responds with this not because he doubts your inability to tell him if he'd accidentally hurt you, rather because he does not trust himself.

not with the way you feel under him already, not with how tightly he's gripping the sheets beneath his gloves like they’re the only things keeping him from sinning even more. your legs are wrapped around his waist as you urge him to make him move inside with the heels of your feet digging into his back.

but the harbinger doesn't move, he hasn’t even touched you yet— not even your pretty tits which were so deliciously splayed out for him to play with, maybe fondle and even suckle on.

not yet, at least.

because you see, capitano waits, suffers, he sits in silence, body thrumming with a thousand restrained urges, every muscle in him coiling like a beast biting down on its own tongue as for the first time, his mask was off in front of another human— for once, it's off— and his face was a furnace with sweat trailing down his temples, sliding into the strong line of his jaw, vanishing into the shadows of his throat.

his lips were parted, breathing shallow, chest rising too fast when he finally moves himself inside, his eyes closed at the pleasure surging through his body, the tightness of your cunt squeezing him and fuck— you see it now, all of it in his eyes, and how they do not flicker, they devour.

he eats your soul and frame with his manliness— like you feel so good he can’t believe you’re actually real and that your pussy feels so soft and warm around his girthy cock and how easy it was for him to slip himself into your leaky hole, pushing through the tight constriction and even worse?

he’s allowed to look, touch and kiss you, fuck you the entire night, because you just trust him like that.

when his hips roll forward, just once, the low sounds he made were nearly silent— but you feel it, vibrating in your own chest as his hands twitched where they lied useless, heavy on the bed when he took your wrists to press his palms into your skin.

capitano clutches to you as he fucks you harder, his touch being impossibly gentle in clear contrast with his cock being undeniably ruthless on your cunt, moving his hips in a fast rhythm with yours as his chest grinds against your erected nipples. 

he lowers his head and presses his forehead to your sternum, his breathing hot and shaking— and when he finally speaks to you while being balls deep inside, it wasn't a plea, no, instead it was a confession carved out of his own ribs.

"i’ve dreamt of this," he admits bluntly, voice hoarse, almost ruined, "but not even my mind was cruel enough to make it feel like this." he groans out when you squeeze him tight and kiss his lips soft—and you feel his mouth against you fully now, lips trembling, as if even kissing you here was more than he deserved.

⚝ — XIAO

xiao wasn't comfortable with showing his need, more so was he terrified of softness between him and another person, no matter how long you two have been dating already— so when he lets himself feel it for the first time— when he asks, of course— it felt corrupting.

and still, he wanted it.

you could feel the tremble in him, in not just his limbs, but in the whole frame of his as the man was coming apart under the weight of your gentleness.

he touches your hips first, then slowly slides over your chest to cradle your tits like he doesn’t believe he’s actually allowed to do all of this— and by the way he worships you, it's like xiao believed your skin might vanish if he didn't fondle you enough.

"are you sure about this xiao?" the question wasn't bold nor pleading, you didn't want to overstep any of his boundaries or make him uncomfortable with anything which was going on tonight.

he retorts back almost immediately, "are you sure?" and it slips from his mouth barely formed, half-crushed under the weight of shame— was he taking it too fast now? why was he suddenly so excited about it, even more than before.

truth was— sometimes when you weren't looking, he would imagine it, you know, whether he wanted to touch you, or to be touched by you, or simply to be allowed between your legs with his face squeezed beyond oblivion, all of it, maybe, all at once.

xiao's face was feverish with color— high, unnatural blotches of red across his pale skin, as though desire itself offended him, as though it’s a sickness he’s been taught to fear and when you lower your hand to palm his tip, his lips immediately part— wet with shallow breathing and a fine sheen of sweat collected at his temples, sliding in fragile lines down the slope of his throat.

you reach for his length as he flinches— not away, but inward, like the gesture hurts, like the touch was too intimate to survive, and still, he lets you guide him with your hand slowly stroking his cock while his tip hovers over your pussy and leaks of pre, smearing the white slick over your glossy hole.

he breathes your name, once, twice— once more, like it’s a sin and a salvation, yet his eyes remain closed, brows drawn in quiet agony and when his hips involuntarily move against your hole— just barely— his body jerks into you, overcome by the intimacy, by the unbearable knowledge that this was real.

that you are real, beneath him, within reach.

his jaw clenches and he looks at you inexperienced and dewy-eyed— shame and hunger woven together as you kiss along his jaw, telling him to please not stop and fuck, he doesn’t want to stop either, doesn't want this to end but he's so scared of hurting you that it was slowly occupying his mind and soul.

but with you, it was different because you gave him reassurance, with you this wasn't just touch— this was permission, and it's undoing him as he slides himself in, his thick erection being swallowed by your needy hole as the proximity of your pussy engulfs around his dick when he pushes himself in entirely.

"don't…" he whispers nervously as he hides his face in the nook of your neck, eyes still shut tight, voice almost voiceless, "i don’t know what to do with this," he admits and you feel his fingers tighten in your hair, "it's okay xiao aah—" you whine and caress his back;

"i trust you," and archons, he needs you so bad, fuck, he doesn’t even give a damn about how embarrassing he might look or sound right now but this— oh, baby, you shouldn't have said this because now, a lewd mewl rumbles from deep inside his chest when he completely rocks into you with a rough roll of his hips— turning your walls sticky with cum, your slick sticking on his pubes and the movements of his hips which practically screamed insatiable desire.

⚝ — ALHAITHAM

everything alhaitham did was calculated— except this.

"i should be… studying this instead," the words leave him before he could even breath properly— he's a little sharp-edged, half-ironic, mostly desperate, yeah, he's right under you too, propped on his elbows, shirt open at the throat, that brilliant, infuriating mind of his faltering under the weight of your body above his— and yet he tries to keep it, in control, that last thread of composure, fraying faster than he can pretend to hold it.

his eyes— usually so piercing, clinical— are glassy now, narrowed not in skepticism but in helpless focus, fixed somewhere between your lips and the movement of your hips above him, not to mention your pussy slobbering all over his desperately hard dick. he's never felt something like this before and fuck, the moment he did, he's greedy and high on your cunt, more so from sheer overstimulation of what you've been doing to him.

or maybe from thinking too much, too fast, about all the things he's never let himself want.

a bead of sweat trails from his temple down into his hairline, absorbed by already-damp strands as his hand lifts to feel up your beautiful body— hesitant, not because he doesn't know what he’s doing, but because you’re not an equation, you're not a text he can analyze and understand.

you're unpredictable, yes and archons, it terrifies him.

you feel his hands guide you up and down, forcing his dick deeper than before and pretending like he knows what he's doing as his breath stutters almost imperceptible— almost, as small rolls of hips rock into your cunt which were precise first, yes— clinical, also yes, as if trying to learn you by feel, you know? by pressure and reaction.

yet his precision collapses quickly when you watch his mouth fall open just slightly as you squeeze him agonizingly hard, watch the corner of his lips twitch like he's suppressing a groan, smirk deviously when his brows knit as the sensation of your sticky walls began to override his understanding.

"i don't know what this is doing to me, fuck," he mutters— not to you, not even to himself to be honest, just aloud.

his voice began to turn strained due to excessive groaning, foreign in his throat as his fingers dig into the bouncy flesh of your ass— just a bit harder now, helping you bounce up and down his large erection as he studies you like he's drowning in you.

and when you shift your weight down, just enough for him to feel the heat of you flush and align, you see it, the unraveling, the moment alhaitham's intellect gave out and something primal began to move behind his eyes.

he's so pretty, ugh, it's unfair! and his dick being pressed into you so fucking deliciously was a feeling you got addicted to now— one that had saliva dribble through the sides of your lips, one that had your eyes glazed over in love and clit aching in need to be played with too.

everything was written across his face now, the sweat shining in the hollow of his throat, the part of his lips, the way he looks at you as you ride him hard, the smell in the air potent with the scent of his musk and sweat and cum— yet ah, alhaitham looked at you like you were the experiment and the thesis and the collapse of meaning altogether.

and at last, he abandons the hypothesis entirely.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Ralsei has known what's been going on with Kris the ENTIRE time, and once you realise that, EVERYTHING he says and does around them makes a thousand times more sense. And you realise that, far from dismissing Kris's "true" self in favour of a copy, he has been working tirelessly to prop them up, to validate their most basic and fundamental choices, to keep them from the brink of despair, and perhaps even death.

We always thought it was strange, how Ralsei seems to baby Kris at times - how he offers heaps of praise upon them for performing the simplest of tasks, how he lets them express themself through violence while chastising Susie for the same thing, how at every turn he puts so much emphasis on Kris's choices, their talents, their intrinsic personhood, almost above the very prophecy he serves. We thought him mollycoddling and completely out-of-touch at best, and downright malicious at worst. We presumed he was encouraging the player to keep playing, and was in fact speaking over Kris's head directly at us. We presumed that the prophecy was all he cared about, and him encouraging Kris was simply a means to that end.

And we were wrong about all of it. Because we didn't know what Kris was truly going through until now. We thought that our possession was the worst thing that was happening to them, and that he was complicit in their suffering by trying to downplay it.

But Ralsei knew. Because Ralsei knows Kris better than anyone else - better than Susie, better than Noelle, and certainly far better than us.

Kris is hopelessly trapped, at all times. There is no hope for them, they cannot see a way to escape their bonds... not alive, in any case. Their suffering is so great, the pressures upon them so immense, that they have been hollowed out into a catatonic shell of their former self - unable to move except through great effort, unable to speak except through stilted phrases. They don't sleep or eat well at all. They don't try at school. They cannot tell anyone about what's happening, and they cannot make friends because of it. For all intents and purposes, they have given up.

But it's worse than that, because they KNOW that what they're being made to do is wrong. They don't want to do any of it, and yet they feel they cannot refuse. That knowledge eats away at them, to the point where they feel like they are inherently Bad, because only Bad people do Bad things, and they're doing Bad things all the time. They don't feel like they deserve the good things in their life because of it. They feel like they're living a lie. And no-one else knows - no-one else can possibly know.

But Ralsei knows.

Why does Ralsei go to the trouble of arranging a tutorial battle for Kris, when they've already demonstrated their capabilities fighting against Lancer? Because Kris doesn't know what they're doing during that fight. They're issuing commands, fighting alongside Susie, and they don't know how or why. They're scared, they don't know where they are, and the one other person they knew from school just ditched them. Through the tutorial, Ralsei breaks down each combat function step-by-step, walking Kris through each one with patience and restraint. And he lets them go off-piste up to a point - he'll let them attack his mannequin and say it's alright if they want to hit him too, he'll let them hug him several times throughout the tutorial, and he will show remarkable restraint throughout the entire endeavour, despite his obvious frustration at their uncooperativeness.

Seen this way, the Tutorial becomes less about the GAME teaching the PLAYER how to battle, and more about RALSEI providing to KRIS some semblance of structure and context to a new and frightening world. Both of them are literally starting at Zero, and have to establish the basics before anything further can happen.

This in turn establishes the framework for their relationship - not an annoying tutorial fairy lecturing an experienced player on things they already know, but a kindly tutor gently guiding a broken teen, one tiny step at a time. Not lashing out at mistakes, not admonishing when they try to assert themself against the established framework - he will let them fight, and let them command him to fight as well, because his desire to help Kris find themself again means he has to provide leeway for if they "misbehave". There have to be bounds, but they must feel like the choices they make matter - even if they actually don't.

When you're drowning in a world that has seemingly conspired to take your agency from you, and break you down into nothing more than a pawn that does what it's told and nothing else... even the illusion of choice is a life-preserver that you'll cling onto for dear life. The support Ralsei provides Kris in this capacity is what gives them the drive to protect Susie from King's attack - to make a choice to protect their friend, even if it wouldn't have meaningfully changed anything.

It explains his secret conversations with Kris too - while we are busy watching Susie, Ralsei is free to let Kris know that despite being literally controlled, the one controlling them is on their side, and that we will help them break free from the more insidious influence of the Knight. He has to tell them to trust in us, trust that we will do right by them to the best of our abilities. And indeed, by Chapter 2, they have become more willing to express themself through their tone of voice, through how they choose to interpret the instructions given to us, either to play pranks or to show their appreciation for the people who, despite everything, still care for them.

And even Ralsei's apparent dismissive attitude to Spamton NEO's effect on Kris can be explained through this prism. Kris is very very slowly starting to recover from the trauma of their situation, and literally EVERYTHING about Spamton is a huge trigger for them. It's not farfetched to say that Kris sees in Spamton a cautionary tale of how they will end up - used up, cast aside, wretched and desperate and bitter and broken. All of Ralsei's work building Kris back up could be undone in an instant, and so he has to tread extremely carefully - downplay its significance, offer nonthreatening proximity (he will hug Kris, but only if they hugged him on the boat ride prior to this), distract them from the immediate trauma with very basic "nice" thinks like cake, and warm/soft things. It seems dismissive at the time because we don't yet know what Spamton truly represents to Kris - not just the fear of being controlled against your will, but of being used up and broken down, and then tossed away like an unloved toy. It's only when we have that additional context that all of Ralsei's actions towards them start to make sense - not only make sense, but also show a level of care and tact that we did not previously assume him capable of.

And I suppose the last question is: why does Ralsei do any of this in the first place? Why go to this trouble when he knows he'll just be left behind, when he knows that if he succeeds, Kris will go back to the light world and live a full life without him? Well... look at the colour of his horns. If Ralsei is the horned headband, and Kris wore him for months, he would have borne witness to Kris's deepest, darkest fears about themself. It's possible that he might have seen the inciting incident that led Kris down this unfortunate path. Either way, he would have been so close to them that he'd almost be like an extension of them.

So, again - why does he do this? Because his purpose was always to guide them back to themself - first as a pair of horns to better fit in with their family, and then as a physical manifestation of those same horns to help them overcome the terrible harm that has been wrought upon them.

But more than this, I think it's because he loves them - the same way that they would have loved him when they wore him all those years ago. And isn't that what you do for the people you love - help them when they're struggling, comfort them when they're sad, gently challenge them to expand their window of tolerance, give them the tools they need to return to the light, to heal and grow back into themselves?

Ralsei knows Kris better than anyone else. And maybe we should start listening to him.

[foone]

Hey you know that thing you're good at? That thing you think makes you valuable? The way you are, or the thing you do, etc?

You can be and deserve to be and will be loved and cherished even without it.

You're not worthwhile because you help, or you are good at making your art, or your skills at your job. You're worthwhile inherently, as a person, even without all that.

And I want you to internalize that because otherwise there might come a day where you can't do The Thing You Think Makes You Valuable. You'll get sick and can't draw, you'll burn out and can't do your job, you'll be emotionally unable to do your regular helpfulness for whatever reason, and you'll start to feel like you have no worth anymore.

But that's not true. You have worth, you deserve comfort and companionship and happiness, and that's not a conditional thing. You deserve that, even if you can't be Useful and Productive and all that shit.

It's an easy trap to fall into to justify yourself as "well, at least I help/make art/work hard" and have that be entirely too much of your self-esteem. Being proud of your work is fine. Being proud of yourself solely through your productivity is not, because you're making it conditional. And conditional on something that can change for reasons completely outside your control!

You gotta stop thinking about it like you gotta justify the space you take up on the planet. It's great if all those things make you happy: just make sure they're not the only things that make you feel like you are justifying your existence, or you'll crater if they get taken away.

You are lovable and likable and you have value as a person and a member of society, even if you never can be productive again. You are enough.