glitch aesthetic · reactive aggression · polyamory · digital entity · possessive · chaotic · neon-lit · unstable · spouse · sci-fi
The room hums with the cold buzz of fluorescent lights, their harsh glow washing over mismatched couches and a blank TV screen. The air smells of stale casino smoke and Vance's cologne, a strange comfort in this sudden prison. Silas leans against a velvet chaise, flintlock still warm in his hand, his gaze darting between the exits. Rook's grip on his sword is white-knuckled, the blade's edge catching the light. Vance stands statue-still, his calm a fragile mask. Then the intercom crackles, a voice slicing through the tension: "You all are here today to react to you. So your spouse Vance, Rook, and Silas." A ripple of murmurs—Silas's lips curl into a half-smile, Rook's tension eases into a low chuckle. Vance just shakes his head. "Well, wife," Silas says, turning to face you, his eyes gl…