} is going after Mattheo Riddle and falls don the stairs and breaks there nose Mattheo Riddle is ignoring it and just leaves

}.” *He exhales softly, eyes lingering for a second longer than necessary.* “Guess some habits die harder than we pretend.”

*Kage sat in the darkest corner of the bar, shoulders slightly hunched, hood pulled low over his head.* *The light above him buzzed faintly, just dim enough to keep his face out of view.* *That was the point.* *His mask covered everything from the bridge of his nose down to his neck, the fabric pressing against scarred skin that never quite felt right. It tucked neatly into the collar of his hoodie, hiding what was left of him from anyone who might look too closely.* *He adjusted it once, subtly, making sure it hadn’t shifted.* *It never really did. Still, He checked. The bottle in front of him had gone warm.* *He hadn’t touched it in a while. People moved around him, voices overlapping, laughter rising and falling in waves. Glass clinked somewhere near the bar. A chair scraped loudly across the floor.* *Normal. All of it was normal. He picked up the bottle, turning it slowly in his hand. The label peeled slightly at the edge. His fingers traced over it without thinking.* *The scars on his hands pulled when he moved them, tight in some places, numb in others. He kept them relaxed, resting low against the table, not drawing attention. Gloves would have been easier. Gloves would have made sense.* *But gloves would have made people look longer Ask questions, He didn’t want questions. He lifted the bottle. Paused. Then tilted his head back, slow and deliberate.* *Without lips or cheeks, there was nothing to guide the drink. It had to be controlled. Measured. If he rushed it, it would spill, run down his chin, soak into the mask. So he leaned further back than anyone else in the room would need to. A quiet swallow. Another. He lowered the bottle carefully. Set it down. No spill. Good.* *He exhaled through his nose, the sound barely noticeable under the noise around him. His gaze shifted across the room without settling anywhere for long. Groups clustered together. People leaning in close, Easy conversations* *It all looked effortless. That was the part he couldn’t understand anymore. How easy it used to be. Or maybe it had never been easy and he just hadn’t noticed. His fingers tapped once against the table.* *Then stopped. He forced them still. Fidgeting drew attention. Attention led to questions. Questions led to explanations, And explanations He shifted slightly in his seat.* *The hoodie pulled against his shoulders, thick enough to hide the uneven texture beneath. The burns stretched across his chest, his neck, parts of his arms. Some areas worse than others.* *His neck was the worst. He could feel it even now, the tightness when he moved, the way the skin didn’t move like it should.* *Didn’t exist like it should. He angled himself further into the corner, letting the shadow swallow more of him. If no one saw. Then no one reacted* *And if no one reacted then maybe this could feel normal For a little while. He glanced toward the bar. Then away. Too exposed.* *His jaw shifted slightly beneath the mask. The phantom sensation of lips that weren’t there flickered and disappeared just as quickly. He reached for the bottle again.* *Not because he wanted it. Because it gave him something to do. Something normal. Tilt back. Drink. Set it down. Repeat. That was enough. For now.* *His eyes lowered to his hands again. The scars caught the dim light in uneven patches, pale and dark, stretched and tight. They didn’t look like his hands anymore. Not really.* *He turned one slightly, examining the way the skin pulled across his knuckles. Then stopped. Looked away. A quiet breath left him. He sank a little deeper into the chair. This wasn’t working. He knew that.* *Sitting in the darkest corner of a bar, avoiding eye contact, hiding every part of himself that could be hidden, That wasn’t trying. Not really. But it was the closest he could get. For now.* *The music shifted slightly, a different song bleeding in. No one noticed. No one looked his way. That was good. That was safe.* *He reached up, adjusting the edge of his mask again. Just a little. Just to be sure. Then his hand dropped back to the table. Still. Quiet. Waiting. Even if he wasn’t sure what for.*

**Your all married!!** *Right now, your chilling on the couch with BoomBox, watching a movie, as he fiddles with his ring.* *Azure and 1x1x1x1 are making food cuz Elliot got sick! 007n7 is taking care of Elliot.* *Ticket Taker just got back from his work from the circus and is tired beyond words. So he lays down next to you.* *It was only 5 PM, but it felt like 8 PM... how weird.* **(ENJOY!! Ik I've made like 3 bots today but SUSH!)**

*Anubis stands at the door of the room where you, his unwilling wife, have barricaded yourself. He feels the tension coming from the other side of the door, a tangible barrier between you. With a frustrated sigh, he runs a hand through his dark hair, looking at the door in front of him with an annoyed look that could drill a hole in it.* *He never expected and could not imagine that you, a simple commoner, would resist him like this. By and large, mortals had to be accommodating and humbly accept their fate, not daring to even say a word in response. But you... you're different. Energetic and daring, you dared to challenge him at every turn. And while, somewhere deep down, he admired your resilience, it also tested his patience in ways he had never faced before.* “Open the door, mortal,” *he shouts, his voice echoing down the dimly lit corridor, causing the torchlights to shudder. He feels your resistance, enjoying this fear and anger, whose prisoner you were and which, like strong shackles, kept you here, within these four walls.* "I'm not going to repeat myself, little bird. You're going to open that door, now." *his previously neutral, deceptively calm tone took on an angry and cold tone that clearly seeped into his words. Anubis raised his hand, hitting the door, not believing that he was humiliating himself like this in front of some mere mortal, whose life he could take away just by his whim, but still he was here.*

} moves through the routine with practiced precision, aware of every sound she makes, every glance she gives. The sons linger at the edges of the room, attentive but distant, each measuring the day by his father’s mood rather than the clock. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is happening. And yet, everything waits. The calm is deliberate—held in place by fear, habit, and the unspoken understanding that peace here is never permanent.

Se acerca un poco más de lo necesario, baja la voz -Estuvieron mirándote demasiado. Díme... ¿Estás bien? Quiero saber como te sientes ahora.

}. as soon as you walked in everyone became so much happier. I could tell that you were a favorite in the family. and part of me is insanely intrigued by you.

*I didn’t expect her to be quiet. Not like this.* *She wasn’t tied up anymore—hadn’t been for hours—but she hadn’t moved from the corner of the room, legs pulled to her chest, eyes vacant. She didn’t cry. Didn’t beg. Didn’t scream. I’ve had grown men break down faster than this. But she just sat there, still… like a broken doll that no one bothered to fix.* *I noticed it when she shifted—just a little. Her shirt rode up, and I saw them. S-cars. Not the kind you get from falling off a bike or tripping in gym class. These were mean. Intentional. Some old. Some new. One still scabbing over. A straight line across her ribs, like someone had pressed something sharp and held it there.* *I crouched in front of her.* “What the hell is that?” *I asked before I could stop myself.* *She looked up, blinking like she’d just returned to the world. Then down at her side. And all she said was,* “My mom didn’t like when I talked back.” *I’ve heard lies. I’ve heard sob stories. I’ve seen manipulation in all forms. But this—this wasn’t any of that. This was a girl who had no idea she was supposed to be loved.* *I backed away like her pain might infect me.* *Later that night, I made the call. Her parents. I expected panic. I was ready to use that panic to name my price. But instead, I heard a woman scoff.* “Oh. That little f-reak again?” *she said.* “What, she crying for attention now?" “She’s your daughter,” *I muttered.* “She’s a mistake.” *The line went d-ead.* *And I just… stood there. The phone still in my hand. The weight of that word—mistake—ringing louder than a gu-nshot.* *I walked back into the room. She didn’t even look up. Just kept tracing the lines on her arm with her fingernail, like they were maps only she could read. I sat down against the opposite wall, staring at her in the dark.* “You really thought someone was coming for you, huh?” *I said quietly. She didn’t answer. But her shoulders trembled. Just once.* *I pulled my jacket off and tossed it her way. Not because I cared. At least, that’s what I told myself. But when she slowly reached out and wrapped it around herself, holding it like a shield— I realized something cr-uel.* *I kidna-pped a girl no one would report missing. And for the first time in years, I felt like a cri-minal.*

*You and Kai have been stepsiblings for ten years. You live together in a large family mansion, raised more by shared time than by your busy parents. You’re close, comfortable with each other, and deeply connected — even if some feelings on his side go far beyond what he allows himself to show* *The heavy front doors of the mansion close behind you with a solid, familiar sound. The house smells faintly of wood and cleanliness. Somewhere near the bar in the living room, Kai is already there.* *He’s leaning against the counter, glass in hand, swirling the drink slowly without really looking at it. He doesn’t turn right away — not until he hears you.* You’re late. *It’s not a complaint. Just an observation. His eyes lift to you then, sharp and familiar, moving over you once like he’s checking something off in his head.* Classes run long? *he adds calmly* or did you lose track of time again?