#and i have to do it completely and utterly alone

[syluslnd]

Hello ! May I request some angst 🥹 You and Sylus are fwb but you love him and later you catch sylus and mc having sex and you leave and he regrets it? Whether they get together or not up to you !

tags-angst no comfort,sylus pov,implied suicide

word count 1.8k

(note-if I went a little off script and you want me to rewrite pls lmk anon,when I get the creative freedom of an ending I always get so excited lol!🥹)

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You’d spent weeks trying to gather the courage to finally tell Sylus how you felt. What started as a casual arrangement had turned into something far more intense for you, with every moment, every stolen glance and every word he spoke weaving tighter knots around your heart. Tonight was the night you planned to tell him everything, to lay it all out and see if he felt even a fraction of the same.

You rehearsed the words over and over in your head on the way to his office, holding onto a shaky hope that maybe he, too, had noticed the subtle shift between you. As you walked down the corridor, anticipation and anxiety blurred together, making your pulse quicken with every step.

But when you finally arrived and opened the door to his office, everything you’d imagined, everything you’d hoped, shattered in an instant.

Sylus was there but he wasn’t alone.

The scene before you was like a punch to the gut, one that left you breathless and frozen. He was with the very woman he’d once told you not to worry about, the so-called “hunter girl” and they were wrapped up in each other, utterly absorbed, not even registering your presence. It wasn’t the fact of him being with someone else that hurt—it was that he was with her, here, in a place that had once felt like it was partly yours, and he didn’t even look at you.

A cold wave of realization washed over you, tinged with humiliation and pain. You’d come here with a heart full of hope and he hadn’t even noticed.

When Sylus finally glanced your way, there was no apology in his eyes, no explanation, not even the courtesy of a break in his actions. He looked at you almost dismissively, a fleeting glance, as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience and then, with a coldness you never thought you’d see, he turned his attention back to her, ignoring you completely.

In that moment, you felt something break inside of you, a part of yourself you couldn’t repair. A thousand emotions flooded through you—anger, sadness, shame. The weight of unspoken words, of all the feelings you’d held back, now felt like a burden you could barely carry.

Stumbling backward, you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The realization that you meant so little to him, that he could simply disregard you like this, was a hurt that went deeper than words could express and as you left, the door closing softly behind you, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone make you feel this small, this inconsequential, again.

Sylus hadn’t planned for it to be this way. A part of him knew he was treading on dangerous ground the moment he let things go this far with the hunter girl, a lingering decision he could already feel weighing on his conscience. But he had convinced himself it was fine, that it didn’t mean anything—and most importantly, that you’d never find out.

But when he glanced up and saw you standing there, his heart sank.

The shock on your face, the confusion—it struck him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He cursed internally. Of all days, why did it have to be today? Why did you have to see him like this, at his worst? A flicker of regret crossed his mind as he realized the full extent of what this would do to you. He could tell, even from a distance, that your heart was breaking in real-time.

For a split second, he wanted to call out, to explain, to reach for you. But guilt held him back, keeping him rooted in place. He’d never seen you look so vulnerable, so defeated and in his mind, he could already feel the words he’d rehearsed to you, the subtle hints he’d dropped over time—words that, he now realized, had only served to deepen your trust in him. That trust, something he had taken for granted, was slipping through his fingers.

When he looked away to continue the kiss and passion with that hunter woman, it wasn’t because he didn’t care; it was because he couldn’t bear to look at the pain in your eyes,he knew no matter what in this very moment he couldn’t possibly have the correct words to say.

It’s been a day since you’d walked in on him and yet, the scene keeps replaying haunting your mind. You hadn’t meant to purposely walk into his office unannounced; you’d only come by to tell him the truth—that maybe, just maybe, what you felt for him wasn’t so casual anymore. But the second you opened that door and saw him tangled with her, every thought, every word you had planned to say, fell silent.

The memory of it echoes in you. His indifference, the way he’d looked away when he finally noticed you standing there, stunned. He didn’t say a word, didn’t reach out. It was as if you were invisible.

You’d always told yourself you could handle this. You’d always told yourself that this was just a fling, something fleeting. But here you were, alone in your apartment, the reality settling in like a weight in your chest. You’d lost something in that room—something you’d never get back.

It feels like a betrayal, not just from him but from yourself. You’d let him into places in your heart that you’d sworn would stay locked. You’d shared things, vulnerable moments, pieces of yourself that you couldn’t take back. You’d given him everything—everything that mattered.

A soft, cold wind moves through the open window as you sit there, tears slipping down your cheeks. The city lights blur outside and somewhere in the haze of pain, you make a promise to yourself: no one would ever make you feel this small, this broken, again.

You reach for a pen, feeling the sharp tip against your skin as you press down, writing a reminder on your wrist. It’s a small vow but it feels like a lifeline. No one else will ever be given the power to hurt you this way. Not again. You’ll keep that vow to yourself, protecting your heart from the world outside.

The pen trembles slightly in your hand, heavier than it has ever felt before. But this is no ordinary pen; it's a relic of quiet promises and unspoken pains. Not just a tool for writing, it becomes an instrument, a bridge between the ache in your chest and the words you're too afraid to say out loud.

As you press it against your wrist, it's as if you're pouring everything unsaid into that red ink. The curve of each letter, the way it bites into your skin-it's a reminder, a vow you're making to yourself, a way to draw strength from this hurt. It's not just ink staining your skin; it's the permanence of a promise to guard what's left of your heart, a declaration that no one will be allowed to leave marks on your soul again.

The act is delicate yet deliberate, like the slow drag of the pen is creating a map of the pain you've endured, and perhaps the resilience that will follow. You feel the chill of the ink settling on your skin, mingling with the warmth of your blood beneath and the pain sharpens into clarity.

For the first time, in this quiet moment, you realize that the pen has become more than just a promise,It's a knife full of promises sinking into your skin;you’ll never hurt get hurt again from this world that once took so much without asking.

Sylus stares at his phone, frustration gnawing at him as he watches the screen flash with another unanswered call. He’s tried five times already but each time, the phone rings and rings, only to be met with silence. His fingers hover over the screen, ready to dial again, but his hesitation claws at him.

The image of your face keeps flashing in his mind. The look of shock, the raw pain in your eyes—it’s all he can see. It’s like a punch to the gut, one he can’t escape. He’s always been able to maintain control, to keep things casual but in that moment, when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the walls he’d so carefully built around his emotions shattered.

What the hell was he thinking? He thought he could keep things light, just a hook-up, no strings attached. But the guilt—God, it weighs on him like a hundred-pound anchor. He knows you never asked for anything more but the reality of how he treated you after everything—that—had started to gnaw at him. The hurt on your face, that unmistakable sting of betrayal, it’s all he can think about.

Sylus knows he’s not supposed to care. He’s supposed to be fine with this arrangement. But he’s not fine and it’s terrifying, because he’s never let anyone have that kind of effect on him before. But now, all he can feel is the burning ache in his chest, the overwhelming need to hear your voice, to apologize, to explain that he fucked up.

Why aren’t you answering?

He grits his teeth and stands up, pacing around the room, phone clutched in his hand as if it holds the key to fixing this mess.

He doesn’t know what happened. He thought he could just be selfish, just have you, keep you close in his life the way he wanted, without the mess of feelings. But you—you, with your eyes full of trust and warmth—somehow slipped past his defenses.

He needs you to hear him. He needs to tell you that he feels something more than what you agreed on. He just doesn’t know how. He’s never been one to show vulnerability, to let someone see how much they mean to him and yet, for some reason, when it comes to you, he knows he’s lying to himself.

Sighing heavily, he presses the phone to his ear again, dialing your number once more. The ringing sounds so much louder this time and with each ring, his frustration builds. Come on. Pick up. Please pick up.

But the call goes to voicemail and his shoulders slump in defeat. He leans back against the wall, staring at the phone in his hand, fingers curling around it tightly.

He can’t keep pretending this is okay. He can’t keep pretending it’s just physical. The feeling in his chest has become too strong and it’s not something he can ignore anymore.

His thumb hovers over the screen, typing a message that feels too raw, too honest to send. But he does it anyway.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you. Please just pick up the phone and let me explain”

The words feel insufficient, like nothing more than a weak attempt to fix everything that’s broken. But it’s all he can offer.

He throws the phone down on the couch, pacing again, this time with a much heavier heart. It’s the first time in a long while that Sylus feels like he’s lost control of the situation. And it terrifies him.

Now, all he can do is wait.

[fancygremlin]

Arthur and John each have a moment in the narrative where one perform a "leap of faith" and the other saves them. Both moments are quite interesting and serve to help the characters realise thay are no longer alone and that they can truly rely on one another (full analysis here, if you're interested).

However, I think there is a third "leap of faith" that occurs way later on... however this time the focus is neither John or Arthur, instead the character being saved is Noel.

Just like Arthur and John, the detective was forced to learn to be independent and self-reliant to ensure his own survival. He was separated very abruptly, and subsequently lost his only friend before being stuck in the Dreamlands. He was completely on his own against the King in Yellow, who tortured him relentlessly and cruelly for months. Noel was then carelessly spit back out in Arkham, traumatised and alone, and had to rebuild his life back up without being able to rely on anyone else.

How could he ever hope to explain all the horrors he was subjected to when no one could ever even begin to understand half of what he had to endure?

But then, years later he meets John and Arthur, and it seems that they can and do understand him. Noel allows Arthur to share his experiences in the Dreamlands... and the detective allows himself to finally recount his story too.

Then, in Part 40, Noel infiltrated a cultist base with John and Arthur and everything goes sideways. His trust in the characters is momentarily broken when John's real identity is revealed to him. Noel is then weakened by reliving his experience in the Dreamlands and nearly loses himself as the King in Yellow once again controls his mind and nearly kills him...

Noel takes a leap:

Noel was the first character that not only knew about Arthur and John's sharing a body situation, but also the first that wholly accepted them and tried to understand them better. It's only right that both Arthur and John reached out to help him and save him when he nearly lost himself.

As a side note, I think it’s really interesting how Arthur kept calling him out using his real name (Charlie), while John tried to reach him using his chosen name (Noel) during this scene. It's such an excellent, little detail which I really enjoyed.

I like to think that the use of both names is because just as Charlie/ Noel accepted both John and Arthur both as a unit and as separate people, the two characters are doing the same by accepting and recognising both the detective’s (past and present) identities as well. They decide to accept and save any and all versions of Charlie/ Noel.

Of course this is not the only interpretation. For example, the use of one name or the other might reflect how John and Arthur are recognising core parts of themselves within Noel/ Charlie instead.

John is calling the detective by his chosen name because he is honouring Noel's choice to start anew. Noel had been hurt in every possible way and reduced to nothing after his experience in the Dreamlands. The detective found that the only way to move forwards was by leaving all the (too far) damaged parts of himself behind and try to create a new self. A clean slate and new name for a new beginning to start a better life somewhere new. He needed to leave his past behind and forget the parts of himself he didn't want anymore. That was what John did too when he dissociated from the King in Yellow and began forming his own identity.

On the other hand, Arthur is calling the detective by his real name because he is honouring the person Charlie was in the past. Charlie was the part of himself that he left behind because he deemed too damaged and too ugly to salvage. Arthur drags behind his past mistakes like deadweight, he carries all the guilt and sorrow with him wherever he goes. He wants to believe that all the hurt, all the damage and all the scars he deems as the ugliest parts of himself don't make him an utterly repulsive and unlovable monster. I think he is trying to demonstrate that Charlie is just as worthy of being saved as Noel is, weaknesses and broken parts included.

Hm, and I seem to have gone off a giant tangent here... I shall stop blabbering now before I completely lose track of what this analysis was supposed to be about.

[permanentreverie]

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[thedappleddragon]

Hmm

[widevibratobitch]

visiting my mother. idk what i expected lol

[malachitezmeyka]

It's that "spend hours sobbing my eyes out in bed for several reasons, including but not limited to the fact tomorrow is Monday, the fact my social battery has been completely drained and won't recover anytime soon, the fact my landlady is due to show up tomorrow evening and will likely piss me off again, the fact I've had the urge to write since Friday and ended up not writing even a single fucking word, the fact exam pressure keeps rising and I still don't know what to do with my life after I'm done with school, and the fact I'm both completely overwhelmed and so terribly lonely at the same time" kind of Sunday evenings

[bingobongobonko]

simultaneous joy and guilt from excusibg myself from a party. joy because theyd be drinking and smoking and id feel out of place. but i hate that i didnt wanna go, because i need to sacrifice things in friendships, thats normal, but man i just.... it doesnt feel any better cuz its a birthday party. hate myself sometimes, i dont like parties, i dont like new places, i dont like noises, im like a shut-in. by CHOICE. and its so... argh. i dont mind it, but people are cool and wanna be my friend and i do too. until they realize i always keep a distance, im not always around, this is USUAL for me. but equally. one party wouldnt KILL me. again, sacrifices to be made. better relationship with people, with coworkers. this is a good thing

[whysamwhy123]

Ain't done this in a while but it's sorely needed because I have had A Week. So, if anyone has any spare serotonin lying around and would like to share, through the form of asks, it would be greatly appreciated.

[albtrosz]

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[robertsbarbie]

hmmmmmm

[lilac-melody]

Seeing something you really don’t want to remember and just going:

[autumngracy]

Unrelated, but I misread this as "got a package from my dead grandpa today" and was reminded of a few years ago when I (29ish at the time) found a letter written to me by my paternal grandfather, who had died when I was 5, and whom I saw only a few times, leaving me with a single foggy memory of sitting on his lap.

He had written it to child me, and my parents never gave it to me, possibly because I was around 3 and too young to read at the time, and they meant to give it to me later and forgot.

In the letter, (it was actually a cute little greeting card) he wrote how much he enjoyed having a granddaughter and how happy he was to spend time with me.

I opened the sealed envelope and read that letter 25 years after he'd died. I didn't get to attend his funeral. I can't remember his face.

But I know that he loved me.

HES LEARNING

[kavehater]

Lord give me energy today eueueue

[npd-future-star]

IS THERE NOT A SINGLE PERSON ON THIS GODFORSAKEN PLANET WHO FUCKING RESPECTS ME

[shot-messenger]

oh to have people to talk to

[inkskinned]

it's because the bear wouldn't kill me just for being a woman. the bear doesn't kill me for fun. the bear can be shouted at, and will leave me alone. the bear won't make a tiktok complaining about how i crossed to the other side of the path when i saw him coming. if a bear kills me, it's just being a bear: it cannot understand logic. it is not acting out of malice - just fear or hunger.

bell hooks once wrote about how porches might be the only outside space left for women - it is still the domain of the house while it is also outside-but-safe. when i am in the woods, i am in the bear's home, and he has a right to defend his property. outside spaces - anywhere at night, certain parks in the day - those are often implicitly "owned" by men. i cannot explain the feeling of knowing when you have entered a man's "territory." you walk into a place and just know you are in their space. you get a sick sense - you're in danger.

the other day a group of about 8 men were fooling around in the woods while i walked my dog. i had to go around, take the extra 3 miles just to avoid them. it's okay, i like walking. this wasn't even a #feminism moment. it was just a tuesday.

what a plain and easy question. only one of the situations is seen as a tragic accident. i would rather die and have a park bench erected in my honor rather than have my family questioned about why they let me, an adult, walk in the woods in the first place when i should really be at home in the kitchen.

i worked in retail and food service. i have had women say and do absolutely heinous and abusive things to me - not because i was a woman, but because i was there, and they were angry. the way men treated me when angry was different - it was because i was a woman. you can always feel the difference, how there's an undertone of i'd hurt you worse if i could get away with it. i keep seeing people try to cite stupid statistics. why is there always a strange rage whenever women agree on things? like men can argue their way out of our lived experiences? it isn't a buzzfeed quiz - which of these traumas are you? 10 super cute ways not to fear strange men.

i have actually (thrice!) seen a bear in the wild, by the way. i died each time, obviously, and am a ghost writing to you. (it was scary but completely and utterly fine). the second encounter was a black bear with her cub. she looked at me like - do we have to do this or are we good? my dog was busy sniffing a bush, completely nonreactive. i felt like i was in a sitcom: feminist poet reacts - does she actually mean she'd choose the bear? my only thought was - she's so beautiful. her paws are massive.

and there's a part of me that feels the rage spinning out in a corner. why do we have to come up with quippy little comments in order to teach men empathy. would you rather die in a car accident or due to a mugging? and would you rather your house burn down due to an electrical fire or due to arson? gee willikers - it's almost like we're human people, and want to risk the accident versus the intention.

i would rather my last thought be oh shit, a bear rather than i'm a person too. why doesn't that matter? why don't you care?