#again. showing loyalty in such different ways

[sleepyvib-es]

Percy Jackson is a highly empathetic and compassionate character who shows kindness and loyalty to all kinds of people no matter what their background or story is. It didn't matter if they were mortals, immortals, gods, demigods, titans or monsters. He has shown kindness, compassion and loyalty to:

Tyson (his half brother, a cyclops, who he protected from bullies before and after knowing what he was. yes he faltered once but that was more of him feeling bad that he was once again the odd one at camp. he made up for his negative feelings about tyson being his brother by continuously saving him, standing up for him and finally recognizing him his brother. Percy believes so much in Tyson.)

Grover (his best friend, who he protected from bullies before finding out grover is a satyr sent to protect him. he defended grover vs the council of cloven elders, when they labeled grover as a liar regarding his news of Pan)

Rachel (his first mortal friend, who's bravery he admires. His thoughts about Rachel are very positive and he is constantly impressed by her. He has voiced out his respect for her on many occasions.)

Briares (ancient Hundred-Handed One, who was set free from his prison by Percy and his friends. He was abused and so afraid to the point where he wanted to fade like his brothers but ultimately saved chb b/c he was inspired by Tyson's faith in him. and who showed Tyson how to be brave and stick up for those in need? Percy.)

Blackjack (a pegasus who he saved from luke's ship and was so grateful to percy for it that he's always offering percy his help)

Mrs. O Leary (he adopted a literal hellhound for a pet and is fiercely protective of her. he once hesitated to kill hellhounds in TLO b/c they reminded him of mrs. o leary)

Cerberus (literally tells Hades "it wouldn't hurt to play with cerberus once in a while. he likes red rubber balls")

Bessie the Ophiotaurus (sea creature with the potential to destroy the gods but who percy advocated for in front of the 12 Olympians and asked them to save Bessie b/c you shouldn't kill an innocent creature on the basis that they might or might not destroy you)

Other sea creatures (he would lose hours of sleep doing rescue missions)

The river naiad from Geryon's ranch. He literally says he didn't want to be that kind of guy that puts his weight on being the son of Poseidon to get what he wants. He saw that she was scared and was only putting on a brave front to protect her ecosystem. She is one of the reasons why we have Percy embracing what it means to be a son of the sea god - the sea is within him.

He showed her compassion and in turn she tells him a secret. She showed him a way to save his friends.

Calypso (an immortal titanness punished for siding with her father Atlas and the other Titans. He felt extremely bad for Calypso, told her that it wasn't fair that she got punished for siding with her family and asked her how he could help free her. He couldn't stay in Ogygia but he did directly ask Zeus to release her. He also planted the moonshine plant she gave him like she asked "build a garden for me in Manhattan." He remembered her.)

Zoe Nightshade (hunter of Artemis. They had mutual respect after seeing a different side of each other.)

As soon as he figured out it was Hercules who had abandoned Zoe, he threw out his lion-skin cloak, which had been very helpful in keeping him safe from harm. He proceeded to trust Zoe and her judgement and he mourned her death. He actually didn't want to accept that she was dying at first, asking the others to give her more nectar and ambrosia and asking Artemis if she could heal her with magic.

Thalia Grace (the first person to hold her when she was resurrected, who yelled at the other campers to help her and to get her nectar and ambrosia.) For all the times they fought, he also felt protective of her:

Percy put his pride aside to beg Mr. D for help because he looked at Thalia and decided he didn't want to put her in a position where she would die to protect her friends again. Because how could he let that happen to her? He won't.

Clarisse La Rue (felt sympathy for her despite being bullied by her when he first got to camp b/c he recognized what kind of dad Ares was to Clarisse. He gave her the golden fleece, trusting her to complete the quest and save camp:

This even impresses Annabeth. Percy genuinely liked seeing Clarisse happy. He smiled when he noticed her and Chris Rodriguez hold hands at the end of botl.

Artemis (took the sky for her, which they both knew would have killed him, so that Artemis could help Zoe fight Atlas. In turn she vouched for Percy and Thalia when the gods voted on whether they were too dangerous to be kept alive)

Bianca di Angelo (he felt bad for the di angelos. they were taken out of the casino, hunted by monsters and soon after discovering that they were demigods bianca was asked to join the hunt. That is A LOT to process. Percy was the only one who asked her to consider other options before joining the hunters. He also reminded her that her brother couldn't go with her.)

He later was the first to voice out his support as long as she was happy and placed himself in her shoes to better understand where she was coming from:

Percy is the only one who saw Bianca's decision to join the hunters from both her and her brother's perspective. After asking her to consider her options and expressing initial disappointment at her decision, he adjusted his way of thinking and directly asked her how she was doing. How was she settling in with the hunters? How was her life with Nico prior to being discovered? He understood where both siblings were coming from and he tried to comfort and reassure them both (Nico at camp during capture the flag and Bianca during their quest.)

Ethan Nakamura (they were forced to fight to the death in the arena and while Ethan was trying to kill him, Percy only knocked him down and told him to run when he saw an opening. He later asked Ethan to come back with him but he refused. Percy's choice to not kill Ethan and letting him go literally led to Kronos rising b/c Ethan pledged himself to the titan lord right afterwards. Ethan was also the one who figured out Percy's vulnerable spot. He would have killed Percy had Annabeth not taken that knife for him. Percy, even after feeling "betrayed" by Ethan, STILL remembered and considered him when turning down immortality and literally asked for the minor gods to be given recognition - which was what Ethan wanted for Nemesis - and for the gods and demigods who sided with Kronos to be forgiven. Ethan also got his own shroud:

Nico di Angelo. Yes, Nico. Percy spent six months looking for Nico after he disappeared at the end of ttc when percy broke the news to him about Bianca with the goal of wanting to make things right with him. In the labyrinth, he said he felt Nico was close and he ran towards his direction, leaving annabeth grover and tyson running to catch up with him. Nico was double crossed by the owner of the ranch, Geryon ("you should've made me swear on the river styx") and got taken as prisoner to give to Luke Castellan later. It was Percy who bartered for his release:

Percy and his friends were free to go! What does Percy do instead? He makes Geryon a deal to make sure that Nico got out safely.

Also, I find it kinda interesting that Rick Riordan went the "percy talks shit about nico behind his back" route in HOO because this is Percy talking about Nico when he's not there in the og series:

Percy Jackson told the Queen of the Gods that she only cared about her perfect family, not real people, because she didn't secure Nico's safety passage through the ranch. Percy and Annabeth both made a bad impression with Hera because they disliked her attitude towards Nico di Angelo (there's more complexities to this scene but again I won't dive into them).

Percy also literally prayed to Poseidon to help him with Nico:

More of Percy caring about both Nico and Bianca di Angelo:

He claimed the prophecy so that Nico wouldn't have to. To save Nico from more suffering. He hid Nico's parentage from Chiron and the rest of camp because he wanted to prioritize his safety.

More on Percy having compassion towards Nico:

He told Nico that he could come with them on their quest, even if dangerous, because he didn't want to leave him behind. Nico refused. He asked Nico to stay at camp and even told him he could sit with him and Tyson at the Poseidon table (which is against the rules). Again, Nico told him no and instead said he needed to find out more about his past. Percy told Nico to keep in touch. At the end of the book, Percy invites Nico in for blue birthday cake b/c he felt bad that Nico had probably never been invited to a birthday party before.

Percy is later rewarded for what he did for Nico. Nico tells Percy that he found a way to help percy survive against Luke/Kronos as a way to thank him for what Percy did for him in Geryon's ranch (we later find out it's also because nico was crushing on percy but I won't get into that).

Another scene to add to the Percy Jackson Caring About Nico di Angelo list:

Hades had quite literally planned to imprison Percy in the Underworld a few chapters before this. For as much as Percy's trust in Nico wavered after that, he STILL found it in his heart to mention Hades and Nico by name in front of the other gods, requesting that they have a place at camp. Wishing for them to not be left out. Imagine that? Zeus was the one who killed Maria di Angelo, who nearly killed Nico and Bianca di Angelo had it not been for Hades. And Percy still rejected his offer of immortality and included Hades and Nico in his wish. Here was Percy, who offended the gods by rejecting immortality and by making them swear on the river styx to do good on their oaths, who had demanded a lot from them already, asking for Nico and Hades to be recognized after being cast aside and ignored by the gods.

Even his own dad, Poseidon, told Percy that he asked for too much. He did it for them. The forgotten, the unloved, the side lined demigods and minor gods and "peaceful titans" that sided with Kronos. Because that is who Percy is. Empathetic, compassionate, kind.

Chiron. Even the immortal mentor of heroes. Percy helped clear his name when he got accused of poisoning Thalia's tree (by tricking Luke into confessing via Iris Message)

Charles Beckendorf (one of his first real friend at camp besides annabeth and grover. Besides Percy and Nico, Beckendorf was the only one who Mrs. O Leary trusted enough to get close to her at chb. Percy thought of him when turning down immortality)

Silena Beauregard (felt angry on her behalf every time he saw how she looked grieving charlie. he never once told anyone she was the spy and thought of her when he made his wish at the end of tlo)

There are many others Percy is seen showing kindness and compassion towards, including HoO (that i won't get into because percy's character becomes less himself rip character assassination) and crossovers (Magnus Chase, Carter and Sadie Kane) but this is already long so I'll end it with this:

Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. Two Roman demigods who started at the bottom of the legion. Percy saw two underdogs and went "they're under my protection now." He even promised Hazel that Thanatos wouldn't take her back without a fight. Even after Percy got his memories back he never once cared about greek vs roman beef. These are his friends, his people.

Percy Jackson is usually awarded for his loyalty and compassion (see: Blackjack, Rachel, the river naiad, Nico) and sometimes it gets him nearly killed (see: Ethan Nakamura and his achilles spot, Nico both walking him into a trap because he trusted him and later saving him). He doesn't usually ask for anything in return.

In Rachel's case, he asked for her help in the Labyrinth because they needed a clear sighted mortal to lead them, but he emphasized how dangerous it would be and that rachel didn't have to do it. He also apologized to her for getting her involved and reassured her when she felt bad that she seemed to have led them to a trap even though she was sure that was the path they needed to go. Percy could have died but he never held that against her ("Don't feel bad, I'm usually about to die"). His faith in Rachel never wavered.

In Nico's case, he asked him to convince his dad Hades to join the fight and to lead the the seven to the doors of death (a task that he only trusted Nico with to successfully lead).

Percy Jackson inspires loyalty for good reason. He considers people, he sees them, understands them, encourages them and he either helps them or he lets them make their own choices (which he learned from Sally Jackson - "if my life has to mean anything I have to live it myself"). They are made better for it. Percy is made better for it.

His first instinct is always to fight for those who can't or don't have anybody else to stand up for them. You don't have to prove your worth because to percy, you already are worth it.

He is either "I love you so I will help you" or "I love you so I will let you go" and to him it does not matter who or what you are.

[aspenmissing]

Hopefully you have not received sooo many Arcane requests so far. If yes, I'm sorry that I'm one of them. It's also an angsty one so...double sorry 🥹

It's about the trio "Reader, Vander and Silco" (so it's about their younger selfes from Season 2) The tension between Reader and Silco was always meant to bloom into something big. While Vander was always aware of it, he felt something for Reader as well. But never admited it because he could saw their feelings for each other. But Reader and Silco never got officially in a relationship.

Until it came to the day, where everything changed: The day, where Vander tried to kill Silco, while Reader tried to get to them. Before Vander got the chance to hurt Silco (and also damaged his eye) Reader was instead the person, who got the full damage and nearly died. While trying to protect Silco (So maybe she is the one, who lost either an eye or got a scar on her face).

Out of his own sorrow and shame, Vander vanished and left Silco and Reader alone. Silco grabbed Reader and run to their shared apartment. He frantically tried to save her and succeded.

After she woke up, he admited his feelings for her and promised her, that nothing will ever happen to her again.

...the end 👉👈

ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴢᴀᴜɴ

ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ-ɪꜱʜ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5478 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ɪɴꜰᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴡᴏᴜɴᴅ.

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!! ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪꜱᴇ, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴏ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀɴ ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ. ꜱᴏᴏᴏᴏ, ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ

The three of you were inseparable once — Vander, Silco, and you — bound by scraped knees and revolution, by midnight whispers in the undercity and the unspoken oath that none of you would ever let go first.

You were young, wild with conviction and grief, trying to shape the bones of Zaun into something liveable, something proud. You dreamed with them on rooftops, ran with them through smoke-stained alleys, and bled with them in the quiet war no one ever acknowledged out loud.

Vander was the shield, strong-shouldered and steady, always putting his body between danger and the people he loved. People followed him, trusted his hands to catch them when everything else gave way. His loyalty was heavy — a burden he carried like a badge, especially when the world kept asking him to break his own morals in the name of survival.

Silco was the spark, sharp-eyed and eloquent, the one who could look into the rot and see possibility instead of despair. He was clever, careful — always watching, always planning. Where Vander was all brute heart and fists, Silco was shadow and cunning. But underneath the edge, he cared just as fiercely. He just showed it differently.

And you… You were the quiet constant. The voice of reason between the fire and the storm. You knew how to cool Vander’s temper with a word, how to tether Silco’s ambition before it spiraled too far. They both leaned on you — needed you. You were the fulcrum that kept the weight of them balanced.

But even back then, something deeper simmered between you and Silco.

It started small — a look held too long across a table stained with spilled whiskey, the way his fingers lingered a little too long when he passed you a tool, the way his eyes softened whenever you laughed, like the sound belonged only to him. You felt it, too — in the way your chest tightened whenever he touched your arm, in the moments of silence between you that felt far louder than any fight.

Neither of you said anything. Maybe you were both too scared of breaking the fragile peace you had, too scared of what it would mean to give that tension a name. So you held it. Quietly. Closely. Like a secret neither of you was ready to let out.

But Vander noticed.

He always did.

He watched the two of you when you thought no one was looking. Saw the way Silco’s gaze found you in a crowded room. Saw the way your voice softened when you spoke to him. Vander never brought it up — not once. But there was something haunted in his eyes the first time he watched you patch Silco up after a raid, your hands gentle, your voice low and worried.

He cared for you, too.

Maybe he always had. Maybe it started the day you took a pipe to the ribs for him, or the night you stayed awake by his side after a bad job, whispering stories into the dark to keep his mind off the pain. But he knew he could never give you what Silco did. That he could never reach that invisible thread that had already tied you to someone else.

And so Vander stayed silent.

Instead, he poured everything into the cause — into protecting the Lanes, into keeping you both safe. He built walls where bridges used to be, especially as Silco’s visions for Zaun grew more ruthless, more dangerous. He said Silco was pushing too hard, too far. That he was starting to lose sight of what really mattered.

But what really mattered had always been you.

And you were torn.

You loved them both, in different ways. Vander was warmth and strength and safety — he made you feel like you belonged somewhere. But Silco made your heart ache, made your thoughts race — he saw something in you no one else did, something dark and powerful and whole.

You spent years trying to keep the balance. To hold them together while everything around you began to fray at the seams. You calmed the arguments, stitched the wounds, swallowed your own desires to keep the trio from splintering.

But time sharpens edges, and old loyalties start to rust when the ideals that built them crack under pressure.

The fights came more often. Silco's ideas turned bold, then reckless. Vander grew colder, more commanding. He accused Silco of abandoning the people. Silco accused Vander of letting fear dictate his choices. And you stood between them like a dam in a rising flood, desperately trying to hold back the current.

Until the night the dam finally broke.

The night Vander saw only betrayal.

The night Silco refused to back down.

The night you ran — heart in your throat, the sound of shouting echoing down the alleys — praying you weren’t already too late.

The night everything shattered.

It was raining down at the docks — not the kind of rain that washed the grime away, but the kind that thickened it. Filthy droplets, slick with soot and chemicals, fell from the sky like the city itself was weeping oil. Thunder cracked overhead, echoing off the spines of half-finished scaffolds and the rusting bones of freighters long forgotten. The scent in the air was a cocktail of iron, salt, and something acrid that stung the back of your throat. You pushed forward anyway, lungs burning, boots splashing through shallow puddles slick with runoff that shimmered in sickly green and purple hues.

Then you heard it—shouting, raw and savage. Familiar voices, twisted by fury.

Your pulse spiked.

You turned the corner, skidding to a halt on the slick, narrow plank walkway, and your breath hitched.

Vander had Silco pinned against the edge of the dock, his forearm jammed under Silco’s chin, teeth bared in a snarl you barely recognized. Silco's back was arched, struggling against the crushing pressure, his fingers clawing at Vander’s wrist — not in violence, but in desperation.

“You betrayed everything!” Vander’s voice was ragged, drenched in fury and heartbreak, a decade of wounds bursting to the surface.

Silco coughed hard, choking, but didn’t raise a hand in defence. Not yet.

His eyes flicked over Vander’s shoulder and locked on you. The look in them — that flicker of fear, not for himself, but for you seeing this — sent ice slicing down your spine.

“Vander, stop!” you cried out, your voice breaking against the storm. “That’s enough!”

But the words didn’t reach him. Or maybe he just didn’t want to hear them.

The rain beat down harder as you sprinted toward them, your boots skidding on the algae-slicked wood. You could feel your heart clawing at your ribs, your mind spinning, screaming for time to slow down. The way Vander’s shoulders hunched. The way Silco’s lips turned blue. The madness in Vander’s eyes.

You didn’t hesitate.

You leapt onto Vander’s back with a snarl, wrapping your arms around his neck and yanking, pulling, digging in with every ounce of strength you had. Your fingernails tore into the collar of his shirt, scratched at his skin, and when that didn’t work — you bit down on his shoulder, hard, until the coppery taste of blood hit your tongue.

“Let him GO!” It was primal, animal, a scream ripped from somewhere deep in your chest.

But Vander just roared, shaking you like a wolf trying to break the neck of its prey. His hands slipped from Silco’s throat — and for one hopeful second, you thought it was over.

Until he turned on you.

It was instant.

The shift in him — from rage to shock to something darker — was terrifying. His eyes met yours, and they were wild with something unrecognizable. Not hatred. Not even anger. Pain. Betrayal. Confusion.

He didn’t see you.

Not really.

“You too?” he whispered, almost too quiet to hear. “You’re with him?” You opened your mouth — to explain, to plead, to say anything — but it didn’t matter.

His fist came crashing down, fast and brutal, slamming into your face with bone-shattering force.

The world cracked.

You heard something snap—maybe your cheekbone, maybe your orbital socket, maybe just reality itself. Light burst behind your eyes, sharp and electric. Your vision blurred instantly as you staggered back. The dock spun beneath you, tilted, twisted, and you couldn’t tell if you were screaming or just hearing the echo of your own blood rushing in your ears.

You stumbled once. Twice. Then the wood beneath your feet was gone. You plunged.

Into the river.

The cold hit you like a sledgehammer. The moment your skin touched the water, it was like fire — a chemical burn that sizzled along your flesh. The infected runoff bit deep into the cut on your face, the one Vander’s punch had opened. You gasped, and the water filled your mouth, choking you, drowning you.

You flailed in the darkness, the current pulling you under like claws. The pain in your face was unbearable. Your eye — your eye — it burned like it was being eaten alive. You couldn’t see out of it. Couldn’t even open it. You screamed, but all that came out were bubbles, lost to the sludge.

Your limbs grew heavy. The world blurred. Somewhere above the water’s surface, you thought you heard a voice — Silco shouting your name. A splash.

And then nothing but black.

Silco dove in after you.

The water was black — thick with runoff, waste, and the rusted taste of metal and chemicals. It stung his eyes the moment he plunged in, burning his lungs as he fought to stay beneath the surface, diving deeper, his body cutting through the murky depths as he reached out, desperate for you.

He didn’t see you at first.

He only felt you — limp, drifting just beneath the surface, your body weightless, lost in the current. His hands found your arm first, his fingers digging into your cold skin, then his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close as his legs kicked frantically, struggling against the weight of the water and the drag of the sludge that clung to your clothes.

You didn’t move.

Your head lolled against his chest, like a ragdoll’s, your body a dead weight that made his heart race with every pump of his aching legs. He gritted his teeth, diving deeper into the polluted water, struggling to reach the surface. There was no sign of life — not a flutter, not a breath. Only your cold, motionless form.

Finally, they broke the surface.

The air was thick, tasting of ash and decay. His throat burned with each desperate breath he took, but it didn’t matter. He dragged you, with every ounce of strength he had left, coughing as he struggled to keep both of you above the waterline. Your hair clung to your face, slick and heavy, the dark strands like seaweed tangled around your cheeks. His eyes darted over your face, frantic, barely holding it together. Your skin — gods, your skin was too cold, too pale, like a ghost.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he saw the cut on your cheek. A simple wound from Vander’s punch — just a thin, shallow gash, but the polluted water had seeped into it, leaving it swollen, red, and angry. The contamination had infected it, and now it looked worse than it ever should have. Your left eye was swollen shut, blood mixing with the dark smears of filth, the streaks of tears stained pink with blood.

He then realised...

You weren't breathing.

“No, no—” Silco muttered, his voice cracking as he wiped the grime from your face with shaking fingers. “Y/N, come on. Please—”

He couldn’t think. There was no time for anything — no time to scream or shout, to rail against the unfairness of it all. His heart hammered in his chest, and he knew what he had to do. He didn’t even hesitate as he scooped you into his arms again, lifting you, cradling your limp form like the fragile, precious thing you were, your head falling back as he sprinted through the muck toward the shoreline.

His legs burned as he stumbled over the rough terrain, the jagged rocks tearing at his boots, but he didn’t stop. You were heavier now, your body colder, your breaths fainter. Every step he took, his heart seemed to beat slower, in sync with the fading rhythm of your pulse.

When he finally reached the shore, he didn’t waste a moment. He dropped to his knees beside you, his chest heaving as he pulled you onto the rocky earth, rough hands desperately searching for a sign that you were still there, still fighting. His mind raced, working on instinct. He knew what he had to do.

Your chest rose and fell, but it was too weak. He pressed his fingers to your pulse — faint, almost gone. His heart pounded harder as the panic clawed at him. No. He couldn’t lose you.

His hands moved quickly — he placed his palms over your chest, fingers pressing down hard, sending shockwaves through your still form. His body was shaking, his thoughts frantic, but he couldn’t stop. He breathed in deeply, then forced air into your lungs, over and over, praying for a response.

He did it again. And again. His hands slipping from the slickness of your skin, forcing himself to push harder, breathe deeper, scream into the silence between breaths, demanding you live.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you coughed — sharp and jagged, your body jerking beneath him. Your chest heaved as you took a breath, a wet, ragged sound, but it was enough. You were alive. For now.

He didn’t let you go. He didn’t move from your side as he wiped away the water and blood from your lips, eyes locked on you as if he couldn’t bear to look away, afraid the moment he did, you would slip away again.

And then, as if the weight of the world had lifted just a fraction, your eyes fluttered open — one, swollen and bruised, but the other clear. For a moment, everything seemed to stop. You were alive. And for Silco, that was the only thing that mattered.

His breath was shallow, his voice barely a whisper. "Y/N, please... please stay with me."

He held you in his arms, your body trembling from the cold and the shock, but he didn't care. He couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

There was no time to think. No time to shout or cry or rage. He then scooped you into his arms again, cradling your body like something fragile, broken — something irreplaceable — and ran.

=

The streets of Zaun were a blur of dark alleyways, flickering street lamps, and distant echoes of life. But none of it mattered. Silco barely noticed them. His legs burned, his chest seared with every painful breath. But still, he ran, driven by one single, raw instinct.

You took the hit meant for him.

Your body was growing heavier in his arms. He could feel it — feel your life slipping through his fingers as the streets stretched endlessly before him.

"Hold on," he whispered to you, but his voice was cracking under the weight of his fear. "Just hold on for me."

==

The apartment was barely more than a hole in the wall — a shared sanctuary of stolen quiet, dim lights, and old books, the smell of ink and metal. It had always been your space, your safe place. Now it would be your battlefield.

He kicked the door open, knocking over a chair in the process, and laid you down on the worn mattress, his hands already tearing through the drawers. Cloth. Scissors. Thread. The bottle of disinfectant you'd bartered for weeks ago — gods, please let it be enough.

Your skin was pale and clammy, your chest barely rising.

“Stay with me,” he whispered hoarsely, grabbing a bowl and filling it with boiling water from the kettle. “Just—just a little longer.”

He stripped your coat and shirt away carefully, muttering apologies every time you winced or whimpered in your half-conscious state.

The sight of your wound made his stomach turn. The flesh around it was blistering, angry, infected. The river water had already begun to rot the edges.

His breath caught. “No… no, no, no…”

He doused a cloth in the boiled water and pressed it to your cheek, holding you still with the gentlest pressure he could manage. You screamed — your body arching, hands twitching — but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He cleaned the wound again, and again, until his hands were soaked and slick with blood and your cries had quieted to whimpers.

“Shh… I know, I know. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked. “Just hold on.”

He rinsed the wound with alcohol next — you jerked, nearly rolled off the bed. He had to hold you down with his arm across your chest, trying not to sob.

Your eye — your beautiful, sharp, knowing eye — was clouded over now, red and weeping. He couldn’t tell if you’d ever see out of it again.

“Y/N. Y/N. Stay with me. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He bound your eye with gauze — soft, clean, and tight — then wrapped you in every blanket he could find, settling on the edge of the bed to press his forehead to your hand.

He didn’t sleep. He didn’t blink. Every time your breath hitched, he flinched. Every time you whimpered in your fever dreams, he held you closer.

For two days, Silco never left your side. The air in the room was thick with tension, suffocating and heavy, but he didn't care. The world outside could burn for all he cared — you were all that mattered now.

His hands were never still. He spooned broth into your cracked lips, his fingers trembling as he tried to feed you. He wiped the sweat from your brow with cool rags, trying to bring down the fever that had you shivering beneath the thin covers. Every moment felt like an eternity. The rest of the world — the gang, the power struggles, the endless war in Zaun — faded away. You were the only thing he could focus on.

He slept in short bursts, curled up in a chair beside the bed, always within arm's reach, always watching, always waiting. A knife sat within his grasp, a silent promise to anyone who dared to disturb your peace.

He didn’t let himself think too much. Didn’t let himself process the fear gnawing at his insides, the horror of seeing you so broken. Instead, he kept talking to you, even when he didn’t know if you could hear him, his voice hoarse and raw, as though the words were clawing their way out.

“You’re the only thing I care about,” he said one night, as he gently wiped your forehead. “The only thing that ever made this place bearable.”

The words felt like a confession, but he couldn’t stop himself. There was no one else. No one else in his life who had ever made him feel like he wasn’t just a monster. Not until you.

He moved to sit by you again, his eyes dark and tired, but still wide with panic. "I should’ve stepped in," he whispered. "I should’ve seen what he was about to do…"

A jagged breath cut through him, raw and desperate. "You didn’t deserve this. I did. I should’ve protected you."

He could hardly breathe as the guilt welled up inside him, tightening his chest until it felt like he might suffocate under the weight of it. The anger at himself for letting you slip through his grasp, for not seeing the danger, for not being faster. He hated himself for it. Every breath was a sharp reminder of how he had failed.

"I’d trade places with you if I could," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The words were foreign to him, strange and vulnerable. But they slipped out anyway, jagged like broken glass.

And he hadn’t even noticed the tears until they were dripping down, onto your bandaged cheek. His heart cracked wide open as they fell, his face tight with sorrow. He hated the weakness, hated the tears, but they came anyway, mixing with the blood and sweat and guilt. And they didn't stop.

=

On the third day, you woke. The world around you was soft and blurred, your mind slow to catch up with reality. The aching in your body felt like a distant echo, and the heat that burned behind your ribs seemed to settle only slightly. Your lips were cracked and dry, your eyelids heavy, but you managed to open them. The first thing you saw was the faint glow of candlelight, casting shadows across the room.

Then, you saw him.

Silco was there, his face half-hidden in the dim light, eyes bloodshot and wild. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t eaten. His clothes were rumpled, and his hair messy, but he was there. And that was all that mattered.

"Silco?" Your voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it felt like it carried a weight that was enough to shatter the silence in the room.

The moment your voice reached his ears, Silco was at your side, moving like a blur, his hand gently brushing the strands of hair away from your face. His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and relief as he looked at you.

“I’m here,” he choked out, the words barely making it past the lump in his throat. His heart was pounding in his chest as he knelt beside you, his hands hovering over you as though afraid to touch you too roughly. "I’m right here."

Your brows furrowed, confusion mixing with the exhaustion in your gaze. Slowly, you reached up, your fingers trembling as they touched the edge of the bandage that covered your eye.

“My face…” Your voice was a strained whisper, and the rawness in it cut straight through him.

Silco swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say to make it better? What could he say to undo the damage?

“I know,” he said softly, his voice almost breaking. "But you're alive. That’s all that matters." His fingers brushed against the back of your hand, a desperate touch as if trying to ground himself in your presence.

The silence stretched between you, and you were quiet for a long time, your fingers moving over the gauze with hesitant curiosity. It wasn’t just the pain in your eye that you were feeling — it was the weight of everything that had happened, the hurt, the fear, the confusion. You had been through so much, and here you were, still alive, but not the same.

“Does it look bad?” You whispered the question like it was a secret, the vulnerability in your voice so soft that Silco’s heart shattered all over again. You were afraid. And that fear, the rawness of it, twisted something deep inside of him.

He paused, swallowing hard, his chest tightening with the weight of your words. He had to say something, anything that could ease the anguish he saw in your one clear eye. His hands trembled slightly as they brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he murmured. “No, it doesn’t look bad. Not to me.”

He looked down at you, taking in every detail of your face — the bruising, the bandages, the rawness of it all. But you were still you. Even with the scars, even with the damage, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His throat tightened again, and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking the truth that had always lived within him, buried beneath his walls.

“You still look beautiful,” he said, the words almost sacred as they left his lips. "Even now. Even like this. You’re still… you."

The weight of those words hung in the air between you both. It wasn’t just about your appearance; it was about something deeper, something more than skin. He saw beyond the wound, beyond the bruises, to the heart of you, and that — that was the part that he loved.

A flicker of something passed in your eyes as you processed his words. You didn’t smile. But your fingers curled around his, and the world, for a moment, felt less jagged. The pain in your eye dulled, and the ache in your chest began to ease.

“I love you,” he said then, his voice hoarse with emotion, raw and unguarded. “I should’ve said it before. I should’ve told you a thousand times. But I’m telling you now — I love you. And I will never let anything happen to you again.”

The words, the rawness of them, the truth in them, settled between you both like a final, irreversible truth. Everything changed in that moment. The air shifted. The tension cracked. Your fingers tightened around his, and though you didn’t smile, something inside of you shifted, like a piece of yourself finally finding its place.

“Then don’t ever leave,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. You were holding onto him with everything you had left, and Silco felt the depth of that plea in his bones.

His forehead pressed gently to yours, his breath shaky as he whispered back, his voice steady with the promise that would echo in both your hearts forever.

“Never.”

And there, in the quiet of that shared breath, the unspoken promise was sealed. Neither of you would ever let go.

And as the years passed, as Zaun began to twist and darken into something unrecognizable, you stayed.

With Silco.

The city, once full of vibrant, chaotic life, was now a mere echo of what it had been. The streets, once filled with hope and the pulse of the working class, had been replaced by a suffocating air of dread. Every day, it felt like the city was breathing its last. The streets were filled with a haze of smoke, the scent of burning metal and decay lingering in the air. The sounds of distant gunshots and screams were commonplace, an unsettling rhythm that became part of the backdrop of life in Zaun. Yet, amid it all, you and Silco remained — standing firm in a world that seemed to be constantly breaking apart.

Zaun had shifted, transformed into something darker with each passing year. The towers of iron and steel loomed above you like dark sentinels, each crack in the city’s infrastructure a reminder of how far it had fallen. The underbelly of the city had festered, filled with criminals, mercenaries, and those who sought to exploit the broken system. And in the midst of it all, Silco had built his empire. An empire of shadows, of power wrested from the chaos that now ruled Zaun. The world outside had become more ruthless, more dangerous, and yet, you were still here. You had remained.

It wasn’t just the city that had changed. You and Silco had both grown. Time had carved new lines into both your faces, though for him, it was the sharpness in his eyes that spoke more of his transformation. He had become harder, more calculating. The warmth that once lingered in his gaze was now hidden beneath layers of cold, but when he looked at you, you could still catch that brief flicker — a glimmer of the man who had once been softer, more human. It was a rare thing, a piece of him that only you could see, and it was all you needed.

The scar on your face once a symbol of your pain, had become an indelible part of who you were. It had long since ceased to be just a wound; it had become a mark of survival. The wound that had once burned with the sting of injury had softened over time, but it still held the memory of the night everything had shifted.

The night that had bound you both together in ways that words could never fully capture. The night that had been the turning point, the beginning of your journey together. It was a reminder of the sacrifices made, the loss and the gain, and the moments where you and Silco had chosen each other. Through all the battles, the bloodshed, the betrayals — you had remained by his side. And now, after all these years, the scar had become your truth, your bond.

But there were days, dark days when the weight of it all pressed down harder than usual. Days when you caught your reflection in the broken glass of the nearby alleyways, and the scar that marred your face seemed to mock you. The scar, the mismatched eyes, the permanent reminder of that night, felt heavier then.

Some days, you hated it. Hated how it twisted your features into something foreign, something not quite you. The memories it brought, the way it made others look at you — they stung. You’d find yourself tracing the scar absentmindedly, wondering what you would look like if you hadn’t been the one to carry it.

=

One of those nights, as you sat across from Silco in the dimly lit room of his office, a glass of something strong in your hand, you couldn’t hide the sigh that escaped your lips. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the cracked mirror by the door, and the discomfort surged through you once again. The scar felt more like a burden than a badge.

“I hate it,” you muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear, but he did.

Silco, who was usually so wrapped up in the workings of his empire, paused, his sharp eyes flicking toward you. The softness in his gaze was almost imperceptible, but it was there — just for you.

“You’re still beautiful, you know,” he said, his voice low, almost gravelly, as he stood from his chair and approached you. “The scar is part of you now. But it doesn’t change who you are.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a moment, then glanced back at your reflection. His words felt like a balm, but they didn’t completely heal the ache.

“I’m not so sure,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. “Some days, it just feels like it’s all people see.”

His steps were quiet, measured, until he stood beside you. He didn’t touch you right away, but the weight of his presence was enough. After a long silence, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“Let them see what they want,” he said, his tone fierce, possessive. “They don’t matter. It’s me and you, and that’s all that matters.”

He gently cupped your chin, turning your face towards his. His touch was tender, careful — as if you were made of something fragile, something he didn’t want to break. His eyes softened even more as they met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside disappeared.

“That scar…” he continued, his voice quiet, but filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “It’s a symbol. Of everything you’ve survived. Of everything we’ve survived together. It’s a part of you that no one can take away.”

The way he looked at you then, with such utter conviction, made your chest tighten. In his gaze, there was no judgment, no pity. Only something fierce — something deeply protective.

And in that moment, the sting of the scar seemed to fade, just a little.

You swallowed, finding your voice again. “I’ve been through so much because of this city, because of everything we’ve done… But sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.”

“You’re free,” he whispered, his fingers lightly brushing against your scar, sending a shiver down your spine. “As long as you’re with me. And I’ll always keep you by my side.”

He kissed your forehead, his touch gentle and grounding. “Zaun can burn. The world can crumble. But you’ll always have me, and I’ll always have you.”

In that quiet moment, you realized something — it wasn’t the scar that defined you. It was the journey you had taken together. The things you had survived. And most of all, the love that had endured through it all.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“No need,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “You’re mine. That’s enough.”

And as the years went on, as the city continued to burn and twist around you, one thing remained unshaken — your bond with Silco. Even on the darkest days, when the scar felt like too much to bear, Silco’s words echoed in your heart, and you knew — you would never be alone in this fight.

[holyblonded]

Could we have some soleil and azulita hcs, i’m kind of curious of what there dynamic would be like? obviously estrella and syd play on the same team so they would get on like siblings, but i’ve just wondered how those two may interact

— soleil is one of the few people azulita lets in without a fight. there’s no performance, no barking or deflecting, just quiet companionship. she doesn’t have to be “tough” around soleil, because soleil never demands anything from her.

— when azulita’s having a bad day, she doesn’t need to say it. soleil can tell by the way she slams the door or goes silent. she’ll just hand her a hoodie and a blanket, tap the couch, and turn on something stupid like a cooking competition. they don’t speak for hours, but azulita always stays.

— they both love late-night walks, but for different reasons. azulita needs to move, to wear out the static in her bones. soleil just likes how the world softens when the sun’s down.

— they balance each other without trying. soleil can wordlessly redirect azulita’s fire into something gentler, and azulita can pull soleil out of her quiet shell when she starts to retreat too far inward.

— soleil’s the kind of person who remembers your favorite snack and how you take your tea. azulita pretends not to notice, but she always eats everything soleil puts in front of her, every time.

— azulita’s the kind of friend who’ll show up with scratched knees and someone else’s blood on her sleeve if she thinks soleil’s been hurt. soleil’s the kind of friend who would thank her with a soft smile, then wipe her knuckles clean without judgment.

— they paint together sometimes. azulita’s never been good at it, but soleil makes it fun. they cover their hands in color, flick paint at the canvas, at each other. the mess always ends in laughter. the wall in soleil’s room has a splatter painting they both pretend is “art.”

— azulita calls her “sunbeam” when she’s feeling especially soft. soleil calls her “stormcloud,” but with nothing but fondness.

— their friendship is rooted in quiet loyalty. they don’t need to say “i got you.” it’s just understood. when one falls apart, the other doesn’t run, they kneel beside them, stay until the pieces are safe again.

[wormtime123]

thinking hard. about last life grian saying about etho “he has no loyalty to you, he’s just immediately teamed up with the next guy that’s come along. if he loved you why didn’t he give you a life" and secret life etho saying about grian “he had to move on with his life, what was he supposed to do, mourn the whole time?" both projecting their own reasonings for ‘abandoning’ certain alliances when they turned south. these two being teamed and staying loyal until the end. can anyone hear me

[plutotheplum]

Beating Hearts

sylus x fem!reader

summary: following the aftermath of his match, sylus shows you how much he adores you.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, loss of virginity, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, p in v, belly bulge, praise kink, inappropriate use of evol

wc: 4.1k

a/n: he was so sweet in this card <3 if you would like to read an mma au with sylus (mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader), then you can find it here! :)

also on ao3!

“Are the strong always required to be strong?”

Sylus’ words ring out in your mind as you sit beside him on the stairs, draped in silence. He runs his hand through his hair, having wiped off the rivulets of sweat that were sliding down his skin with a towel.

Was he trying to be vulnerable with you? It’s the only reason you can think of as to why he would ask that question. The thought of him being devoid of strength is a nauseating one. He wouldn’t be the same without his strength, the raw power he carried, his Evol a testament to that. 

Absent-mindedly, you play with the ring he had given you. Onychinus’ leader is a confusing man. There’s an unexpected softness to him that you’re not used to. It unnerves you a little, the way Sylus had pressed his face into your hair in a gentle kiss.

You stare at the side of his face, Sylus’ eyes have slid shut due to the lack of conversation. He looks even more vulnerable like this and you can’t imagine what you’d do with yourself if he was hurt, or even worse killed if his healing abilities somehow failed him. It’s only then that you realize you care more about the asshole than you should. 

Still, it doesn’t stop you from sliding closer, your side pressing against his. Sylus’ eyes flutter open, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees how close you’ve gotten.

“Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks in a drawl.

“No,” you shoot back, eyes slipping back towards the ring on your finger. “It’s just-” you sigh, avoiding his gaze completely, “the answer to your question is no. The strong aren’t always required to be strong.”

Sylus raises his brows, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You glare back at him, cheeks flushing under his knowing gaze.

“What I mean to say,” you grouse, “is that it would be good if you were strong all the time, but if you aren’t, then- then you don’t have to be, around- around me.”

“Is that your twisted way of saying you care for me?” Sylus muses, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“And if it is?” you murmur, leaning into his touch when he traces the tips of his fingers over the curve of your cheek.

“I’d be grateful,” Sylus replies, gripping your chin gently.

Your breath hitches when he leans forward, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. His calloused hands cup your cheeks afterwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. Sylus’ thumbs smooth over the expanse of your cheeks and you reach up, hands curling around his wrists.

“Don’t you think you’re giving too much of yourself away?” you whisper.

“Perhaps,” Sylus murmurs, his breath fanning across your face. “Will you use it against me?”

There’s no uncertainty in your mind as to what he’s asking of you. Loyalty. Yet, you and Sylus come from entirely different worlds, ones that don’t mesh well together, ones that would make blind loyalty a bitter curse.

Against better judgment, you shake your head. Sylus lets out a low laugh, surprise flashing through his eyes at your answer.

“Looks like we both have our weaknesses, sweetie.”

You let out a slow exhale when he tilts your head, lips pressing against your cheek in a reverent kiss. Sylus stares down at you, his thumbs running over your cheeks again. Your lips part when he nears, but he doesn’t kiss you the way you want, instead dropping a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering.

“You said you adored me,” you say weakly, trying to stop him from rising to his feet.

“I do,” Sylus says, smiling down at you. His hand reaches out, pulling you to your feet, his arm curling around your waist to pull you flush against him. “But I won’t show you how much I adore you here.”

-

The ride back is a tense one.

You keep fidgeting in your seat, fingers alternating between playing with your dress and the ring on your finger. If Sylus notices, he doesn’t say anything, instead keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. It takes everything in you to stop yourself from reaching out for his hand and lacing your fingers together.

“Relax,” he murmurs when the traffic light turns red. His hand spreads over your thigh, warm and comforting and you bite back a whine, eyes slipping shut.

Sylus leans across the center console, his lips pressing against your cheek. You can feel his smile against your skin, your hand reaching up to run through his hair when he drags his lips down across your jaw.

“You’re not playing fair,” you mumble, tilting your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek again.

“I never said I would,” Sylus replies, squeezing your thigh again before letting go as the traffic light turns green.

Sylus helps you out of the car, nodding to one of his men to take it elsewhere while his hand encases yours, pulling you through the doors and down the hallway towards his room.

You watch as he manages to conjure up a vase, disappearing into the bathroom to fill it with some water as he unwraps the bouquet of flowers you had given him. It’s an unfitting image, the most dangerous man in the N109 zone and Linkon combined taking such care with the flowers so as to not crumple the delicate petals.

You wonder whether he’ll be just as gentle with you.

A squeak escapes you as his Evol surrounds you, the red tendrils lifting you off of your feet and bringing you closer to him, until you’re settled on his desk, legs dangling off the edge, feet not quite reaching the ground.  

Sylus steps between your legs, crowding into your space, his hands on either side of you, against the wood of his desk. Your head tilts back to meet his darkened eyes better, breath hitching when his hands squeeze at your waist. He pets his hands across your sides lazily, his forehead pressing against yours.

Soft, airy breaths leave you, back arching into his touch as Sylus’ hands roam over you, touching every inch that he can find. His nose nudges against yours, and you rise to meet the challenge, hands splaying across his firm chest before your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him closer.

“There’s something you should know,” you whisper when Sylus presses his face into the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin as he leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses.

“What?” he murmurs, tightening his arms around your waist and pulling to the edge of his desk.

“I-” your breath falters, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. You try again, but your breath gets caught in your throat, something akin to an odd gulp sounding in the quiet room.

Sylus draws back when he senses your hesitation, his brows raising. You blink up at him, shrinking under his piercing gaze. 

“Hey,” Sylus says when you try to avert your gaze, trapping your chin between his fingers and forcing you to meet his eyes. “What is it?”

“I’ve never done this before,” you blurt out in a rush, cheeks flushing deeper.

Sylus stares down at you in surprise, clearly taken aback by this new revelation. He doesn’t say anything for what seems like an eternity and the more uncomfortable you grow, trying to squirm off of the desk.

He doesn’t let you, gripping your chin tighter in a bruising grip, his carmine eyes boring down into yours.

“Never?” Sylus asks finally, his head tilting.

“Never,” you mumble, a pout making your lower lip jut out, feeling sullen at his reaction.

Sylus hums before a slow grin spreads across his face, his hands cupping your cheeks, thumb smoothing over the plush of your lips.

“Were you saving yourself for me, sweetie?”

“Shut up!” you retort, swatting his chest.

Sylus laughs, nuzzling into your cheek and kissing it. You lean into it, eyes fluttering shut when he strokes his hand over your hair, cupping the back of your head.

“I suppose I’ll have to take care of you then, hm?” he muses.

“You’re making it seem like a chore,” you huff out, pushing at his shoulders, sending him a glare.

He grins, hoisting you up into his arms. You squeak, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, hands tightening on his shoulders to steady yourself. 

“Quite the contrary, sweetie,” Sylus says, planting a kiss to your sternum as he carries you to his bed. “Once I have you, I won’t be inclined to let you go.”

You stare up at him shyly when he lays you down, his hand catching yours as he kisses your knuckles, fingers grazing the ring on your finger.

“Perhaps I ought to get you a better fitting one.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter, flushing at the implication of his words.

You reach for him anyways, lacing your fingers together and tugging him closer. Sylus’ body settles between your thighs, and you whine, lips parting as his face draws closer.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you go,” Sylus murmurs, peering into your eyes, “I meant it.”

The conviction in his voice has your heart fluttering, a satisfied smile pulling at your lips. Sylus laughs, the tip of his nose brushing yours gently as he lowers his head to kiss you.

You stop him, thumb pressing against his lips.

“Do you promise, Sylus?”

“I already lost you once,” he mutters, “I won’t lose you again.”

Your brows furrow, confusion flitting across your face. “What are you talking a-”

Sylus doesn’t give you a chance to finish, shutting you up with a kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, hand leaving untangling from his to cup his cheek instead. A soft gasp spills out of you when Sylus’ hands creep up under your dress, his fingers squeezing at the fat of your thighs.

His kisses grow hungrier, taking and taking until you’re all but gasping, tugging at his snowy hair in an attempt to get him to detach so you can breathe. Your lips are slick with spit and Sylus grins at the sight, collecting the drool that’s escaped from your mouth with his tongue, licking up the side of your cheek and into your mouth.

“M-more,” you whine needily, legs locking around his hips.

“Wet already?” he whispers, fingers reaching between your bodies to find your panties drenched. Sylus coos, his thumb pressing against your clothed clit to rub firm circles into the throbbing bud. “Is that all it takes? My baby just needs some kisses to make her cunt leak.”

You glare at him, pinching his shoulder at the vulgar words. Sylus smirks lazily and you squeal when he slaps your ass playfully, his body jostling closer to capture your lips in another hot, demanding kiss.

Sylus’ hardening cock grinds into your clothed cunt and you whimper, arms wrapping around his neck tighter. His hand smoothes over your hair, keeping you in place, fingers dragging against the skin of your thigh harshly as he pants into the crook of your neck. 

“Gonna let me lick that pretty pussy?” Sylus asks, his fingers toying with the band of your panties, “hm, sweetie?”

You nod hazily, sitting up for him. He helps pull your dress up over your head, your bra soon after, his eyes darkening when he sees your breasts and hardening nipples in the cool air.

“Don’t stare,” you grumble, shying away.

Sylus clicks his tongue, shaking his head before lowering it to press a kiss to your right nipple. You whine at the unfamiliar sensation, gasping when his tongue lolls out, licking over your nipple before enclosing his mouth around your breast.

“Oh-” you mewl, pulling his head closer, “S- Sylus, fuck- ngh-” 

He flicks his tongue against your hardened nipple, swirling around your skin for a moment before pulling away with a soft, suctioning pop. You fist his tank top, yanking him closer to smash your lips against his.

Sylus grins against your lips, squeezing at your hips as you shove at his chest and crawl up onto his lap. You’re pent up, and can hardly believe you have Sylus here, mouth dropping open as you drag your clothed cunt against his stiffening cock.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, gripping your thighs as he drags you up his body, stopping short of his face.

“W- wait,” you sputter, trying to squirm your way back down, “Sylus!”

“Sit on my face, baby,” Sylus says, smoothing his hands up your thighs and squeezing at your breasts.

“That’s- that’s weird,” you hiss.

He rolls his eyes and you shriek when his Evol wraps around you, picking you up with ease and places you onto his mouth. Your body jolts when his tongue licks across your ruined panties, hands gripping the pillows above his head desperately.

“Oh fuck-” you whine, voice strangled. You bite your lip hard, hands fisting Sylus’ hair when he pulls your panties to the side and licks across your bare cunt. 

The bridge of his nose presses into your clit perfectly, and Sylus taps your thighs, his eyes peering up at you as he urges you to move. You find yourself unable to look away, desperation swirling in your gaze as you rock your cunt across his mouth, heat shooting through your stomach as he stares up at you intensely.

Sylus presses his head back and you reach for his hand, squeezing tightly as he sucks his clit into your mouth. He runs his thumb across your skin, slurping messily at your cunt. You shudder, moans and whines spilling out into the air as he ravages your pussy with his mouth. 

It nearly makes you cum when he manhandles your body, hiccuping at the way his thick biceps flex as he pulls you off his face and places you flat onto your back. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he rasps, thumbing apart your slick folds and groaning when he sees how messy you are, your slick and his spit coating your inner thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing pitifully.

Sylus buries his face back into your wet pussy, licking across your folds messily before splaying his large hand against your stomach, tilting his head to kiss your swollen clit. He strokes the calloused pads of his fingers across it gently and you twitch, tugging at his hair wantonly.

“Fuck,” he snarls, gripping your thighs roughly, fingers dimpling your flesh as he shoves his face in harder, trying to burrow into your cunt, “‘s not enough.”

“‘m gonna-” you whimper, “if you keep doing that- hah- ‘m gonna cum!”

“Good,” Sylus mutters, sucking your clit back into his mouth, “cum on my tongue, baby.”

You bite back a scream when he presses his fingers inside, curling them and thrusting them in and out of you. Your thighs tighten around his head, trapping him against your cunt and Sylus groans while you suck in a shuddering breath, watching with dazed eyes as his hips grind into the bed spread. The muscles in his broad back shifting drive you further to the edge, but it's the press of his nose against your clit that sends you over, eyes rolling to the back of your head, back arching as you twitch and jolt, legs kicking out as you cum.

He keeps you pinned in place, licking over your puffy folds, even as you tug at his hair desperately in an attempt to make him stop. Sylus’ eyes meet your wild ones, the corner of his mouth ticking up as he presses a sloppy kiss to your clit. He lands a few more soft kisses, massaging your thighs as you come down from your high.

“I- I need a moment,” you mumble out, body curling into itself, eyes slipping shut at the overwhelming pleasure.

Sylus slots his body behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he tugs you into his chest. You lean into him tiredly when he kisses down your neck, his hands rubbing up and down your side soothingly.

“Was that good?” he asks quietly.

You can hear how smug he sounds, an irritated huff of air leaving you. Sylus smiles against your cheek and you tilt your head back, pecking his lips gently.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Now, now, sweetie,” he drawls, rubbing circles into your hip, “don’t be like that.”

You pout and he grins, dipping his head to kiss you again. Sylus’ hips have begun to move, his clothed cock rubbing into your ass, the hard length straining against the flimsy fabric of his shorts.

“Off,” you murmur, pulling at his tank top, “take it off.”

Sylus takes it off without complaint and you smile at the sight, hands spreading across his chest appreciatively. His shorts come off soon after and you swallow nervously at the sight, the bob of his thick cock entirely too intimidating.

“Relax,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, “you’ll be fine.”

You moan softly when he kisses your shoulder, his hard cock grinding into your ass again. Sylus lifts your leg, and you whimper when he slots his cock between your thighs, reaching back to run your fingers through his hair.

“So soft, baby,” Sylus whispers, fucking his cock between your thighs, “so perfect for me. My pretty, perfect girl.”

“I think I’m ready,” you breathe out, feeling the head of his cock nudge against your clit every now and then, “just- just go slow, please.”

Sylus grasps your face, turning it back towards him to kiss you. It’s softer this time, lips working against yours as he grasps his cock, rubbing it through your folds and coating it in your slick before notching the tip of it against your pussy.

He kisses you through it, doesn’t let you squirm away, keeps his lips against yours as he presses his cock in. You shift uncomfortably and Sylus nuzzles into your cheek, letting out a low hum.

“Doing so good, sweetie,” he praises, seeing the tears prick at your eyes, “so, so good.”

Sylus is thick, practically splitting you open, forcing your pussy to accommodate him. You whimper in pain and he kisses you gently, brushing your hair away from your forehead as he continues to sink his cock in.

“Too big,” you pout, feeling completely and utterly full.

“Look,” Sylus whispers, his fingers brushing across your stomach when the entirety of his cock sinks into your stretched out pussy.

You peer down to where he’s pointing, flushing when you see the bulge in your stomach, his fat cock the culprit. 

“All mine,” Sylus murmurs, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he rolls his hips in, making you gasp and dig your fingers into his forearm. “My pretty fuckin’ baby, all fuckin’ mine.”

“‘s too much,” you hiccup, eyes fluttering shut and moaning when he presses down on the bulge gently, a tingle shooting through your body, making your toes curl. 

“Take my cock, sweetie,” he whispers, kissing your neck reverently, his fingers pinching at your nipples.

“Sylus,” you whine when he draws his hips back out and thrusts his cock back in, “want- want more.”

“Are you sure?” Sylus asks, staring down at you, “I thought it was too much?”

Your eyes narrow, hand reaching for his, letting your Evol flare, resonating with him. Sylus lets out a choked noise, his head dropping and eyes squeezing shut, body shuddering behind yours. You smile up at him, satisfied and smug. 

“Little brat,” he hisses, though there’s no real venom in his voice. “Again.”

You do as he wants, resonating with him again, moaning loudly when he humps his hips into you, cock dragging through your clenching walls. Somehow, you can hear your own heartbeat, the energy flowing through you heightening your senses as Sylus’ Evol strengthens. 

The red and black mist caresses your body, grazing across your nipples and your clit. You whine into the pillows, hand grasping his tighter. Sylus’ Evol eventually dims down the more he gets lost in the wet heat of your cunt, his arm curling around your leg to hoist it up as he fucks his cock into you.

Sylus moves your leg after a while, slotting his hips between your legs again, hips rocking into you. You let out soft airy noises and strangled moans, nails clawing down his back as Sylus presses his face against your neck, growling lowly.

“Feel so good,” he groans, leaving sloppy kisses across your skin, fastening his pace when he feels your legs lock around his hips.

“Sy- Sylus,” you moan, pulling his head up to kiss him.

He returns the kiss just as hungrily, planting his hand on your head to hug you to him as he tilts your hips up a little, cock driving into you. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, hugging him closer as he presses his body flush against yours, heavy balls slapping against your skin, the lewd sound emanating through the quietness of the room.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum,” Sylus rasps, dragging kisses across your sweaty skin.

“Then- then cum,” you hiccup, tugging at the strands of his hair gently, “want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, peering down into your eyes, “want me to stuff this little cunt full?”

You nod eagerly, and he grins devilishly, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck obediently, eyes fluttering shut at the comfort of his thumb, losing yourself in him.

“Resonate with me when you cum,” Sylus whispers, his voice strained as he feels the walls of your pussy clenching tighter and tighter.

He laces your fingers together, bringing your hand to his lips. You can see the way he looks down at you, as though he can’t quite believe you’re here, his head tilting to press his lips against the ring firmly.

It’s a struggle to control your Evol, but you do as he asks, resonating when you feel the tight coil in your lower stomach snap as he shoves his cock inside of you all the way, gasping at the way it throbs inside of you. Your orgasm is blinding, body shuddering violently as you cum, Sylus’ Evol making you see stars.

It feels as though you’ve been set alight, somehow able to feel the energy pulsing around you, just like how his cock is inside of you. Sylus isn’t faring much better, his hips stuttering to a jerky stop as he slumps over you, gasping raggedly. His cum spills into you, hot and thick, adding to the haze in your mind.

The red and black tendrils stroke over your body gently and you whine softly, chasing after the mist of his Evol when it dissipates. Your thighs are sticky with his cum, his softening cock slipping out of you, cum leaking out soon after.

“I adore you,” Sylus whispers after a moment, pulling you into his chest, kissing your forehead.

“I know,” you say, eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you, slow and soft, his fingers sliding over your jaw and across the expanse of your cheek.

You smile up at him, body draped over his, chin resting on his chest. Sylus runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, scratches your scalp gently and presses his thumb against your lips for you to kiss.

“I’m glad it was you,” you murmur, head tilting to the side.

Sylus hums, leaning in to kiss you tenderly before he stands up. You bite your lip, watching his broad back as he disappears and returns with warm, damp cloth. He wipes your inner thighs with care, and over your puffy pussy, cleaning the cum and slick that soils your skin.

Your feet press against his chest playfully and he smiles, hands curling around your ankles to kiss the soles of your feet.

“Sore?” he asks, peppering lazy kisses to your ankles.

You nod, feeling a dull ache settle in your thighs and pussy. Sylus kisses your feet again and finds you a shirt to wear, pulling a pair of boxers up over his hips. You curl into him, staring up into his eyes.

“You said you lost me once,” you say quietly, fingers tracing over his chest, “but we’ve never met before.”

A pained expression comes over Sylus, his lips pulling down into a frown. You can’t understand what he’s so upset about, you don’t even understand what he meant when he said that.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sylus murmurs, his arm tightening around you, “I have you now.”

You purse your lips, examining his expression a little more intently, but whatever pain was there is now gone. His lips meet yours and you kiss, thumbs stroking over his cheeks soothingly.

“Then keep me,” you whisper, “for as long as you want.”

Sylus runs his fingers over the champion’s ring, sitting prettily on your ring finger. He holds your eyes as he brings it to his lips and kisses it again.

“Eternity, then.” Sylus whispers, forehead pressing against yours. “Crows keep that which is shiny. You, sweetie, happen to burn the brightest in my eyes.”

[sunseed-fandump]

The Witch must have been crazy to have made such a Bad Batch of cookies...

(Sorry it's not any of my other AU content, but this was an idea I just really wanted to get out of my head.)

More Info under the cut!

The kids are EEEEEVIL!!!!

Wizard is in his Azure Flame costume from ovenbreak. Strawberry is Wild Strawberry from Twizzly Gummy’s Crew. Gingerbrave is emo a zombie, kinda.

In this timeline, Wizard’s need for power in order to survive quickly turned into a lust for it. He craves it, and is under the thrall of the Azure Flame Staff which whispers to him. He is convinced that only the strong will survive, and those without power are worthless. He is terrified of being powerless as a result. He remembers what it’s like to be helpless, and never wants to feel that way again. His prickly and reclusive attitude is a result of trying not to get attached (because attachments are a weakness) yet he can’t help but have a small fondness for Gingerbrave and Strawberry, as they’re one of the few cookies who understand what it’s like to hit rock bottom.

Strawberry was deeply traumatized when she saw her witch eat a cookie before her eyes. When she tried to warn others of what she had seen, she was dismissed. Too quiet, too soft, too shy. Eventually she found herself on Twizzly Gummy Cookie’s crew, and they were a pretty bad influence. She learned to be ruthless, because showing kindness will just result in others walking all over her. This version of her isn’t afraid of speaking her mind and being heard. Twizzly’s gang fell apart due to the TBD, and she felt abandoned as a result. After being spat out into a random timeline she decided to lay low and eventually met Wizard and Gingerbrave. She’s stuck with them ever since and silently appreciates their loyalty.

This timeline’s Gingerbrave didn’t survive his escape from the oven. The Witch caught him just as he had busted open the doors and she smashed him to pieces. However, with a few icing stitches and a bit of dark magic, he was brought back to life and swore vengeance on all witches. Not too long after escaping his Witch, he recruited Wizard and Strawberry to his cause to “fix” what he perceives to be a rotten world. He does truly care for his comrades and considers them his dearest friends, as they were the first to not mistake him for a mindless undead or recoil at his habit of falling apart. He’s retained a decent sense of humor, and is still a bit ignorant when it comes to the world due to being freshly baked, however he’s a lot more closed off when it comes to strangers and not quick to think that everyone has his best interest in mind like his Canon counterpart.

The trio have looked out for one another for a while, at first things were a bit rocky between them, a loose allyship to pursue a common goal; but it’s grown into a deep loyalty towards each other.

If Wizard Cookie is separated from the Azure Flame Staff for too long he starts to experience severe withdrawal symptoms. His fear of being powerless, alongside the Staff’s thrall over him, will cause him to act desperately and get it back by any means necessary.

Wild Strawberry Cookie has seen a lot in other timelines, and as a result recognizes quite a few faces that she otherwise wouldn’t have met. She also has a stash of Time Jumpers, which allows her to dominate a battlefield as she utilizes its abilities to fast-forward and rewind herself.

Gingerbrave frequently has to redo his stitches, as they have a habit of breaking or wearing down due to the icing’s low quality. The worst ones are around his neck, which will cause his head to go flying off and getting lost. Despite the major drawbacks this causes, he can also use it to his advantage, as his individual parts are still autonomous from one another. He can also swap parts out for new ones, meaning if he loses an arm, he can take one from a fallen enemy cookie or cake monster and use that instead. He has a supply of different parts that he swaps out depending on the mission. However, he feels most comfortable with his original pieces.

While it isn’t official, Gingerbrave is considered the leader, as he keeps the group focused on their goal: to steal the Soul Jam and use them to destroy the Witches and their influence.

They actually don’t like Dark Enchantress Cookie and don’t plan to join the Cookies of Darkness. While they both have similar plans of stealing the Soul Jam and wanting to reform the world, Dark Enchantress wants to make a world that is under her control, while Gingerbrave wants to create a world of absolute free will and lawlessness.

Basically, the kids are anarchists who view Dark Enchantress and the Ancient Heroes as Tyrants.

Idk if i'll do more with this concept, but I thought it would be fun/funny considering Strawberry and Wizard both already have "evil" designs.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

it’s you, it’s you, it’s always you ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

the blue lock boys who will only ever have one lover throughout their life…and the reasons why.

(a/n: this one can be cute but it can be just as humbling and cruel at the same time. i tried to be as realistically romantic as possible, remembering that the blue lock boys are still in the end, teenage boys)

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

the ones who have one lover simply because they’re loyal

isagi, yukimiya, kaiser

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ isagi - growing up with a loving family who loves him unconditionally, isagi is naturally someone who believes in monogamy and traditional dating values, such as loyalty. even if there is a hypothetical scenario where isagi falls out of love with his lover, he’ll still stay because he simply believes that it’s just “the right thing to do”. even if his lover breaks up with him, he’ll stay single because he doesn’t want the potential scenario where he falls back in love with his lover while dating someone else.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ yukimiya - loyalty and good morals is something that yukimiya shows a lot of in the series, so naturally, it’s the same when it comes to romance with him. cheating on someone is a clear “no” for yukimiya—why would he date someone in the first place if he’s just going to cheat on them anyways? and if his lover ever cheats on him? well, he’ll be far too heartbroken and insecure to ever go on a date with someone else ever again. he’ll probably try getting his lover back though.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ kaiser - i know, i know. kaiser, of all people, loyal? i think the biggest factor in this is his mother and also his constant needed desire for unconditional love. kaiser’s mother left him and his father, and kaiser is most definitely not wanting to follow in his mother’s footsteps. plus, kaiser canonically having studied psychology makes it clear that he probably knows that if he stays loyal to someone, that’ll make it easier to make them love him unconditionally. ultimately, kaiser’s sure as hell a red flag, but he’s not heartless.

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

the ones who have one lover because no one else wants them

bachira, nagi, hiori

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ bachira - i think we all know that bachira grew up pretty much alone. with such a lack of friends, the moment someone shows interest in him, he’ll latch onto them. it’s to the point where it gets unhealthy, as he’ll get into a nearly depressed state if someone he latches onto finds someone else, like his reaction when isagi and rin were ignoring him during the second selection. because of this, he’ll realize pretty damn quickly that if he wants someone else to be loyal to him, he’ll have to be just as devoted.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nagi - similar to bachira, he grew up with basically no friends until he met reo. although nagi doesn’t seem to care nearly as much, ever since meeting reo, he is much more attached. nagi is self aware that he’s not the most pleasant of the bunch, so similar to how he is with reo, if he meets someone who genuinely cares, he will latch onto them. sure, there will be times where he will leave for a little while; but in the end, he will always come crawling back to his lover because he knows that no one else would want him.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ hiori - hiori is a weird one. a lot of people definitely have a crush on hiori; however, due to his childhood and the way that his parents treated him like more of a tool, hiori definitely just wants love—similar to kaiser. however, the biggest difference is that when hiori finds someone who loves him, he doesn’t realize that other people love him too. it very much matches the saying “love is blind” if you don’t understand what im saying. hiori is obsessed with the idea of being loved that he’ll do anything to help and stay loyal.

⋆｡°✩₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧₊ °✦

the ones who have one lover because they want no one else

reo, kunigami, barou

(a/n: remember kids, THESE are the MEN—not boys—who you should date)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ reo - reo is someone where if he falls in love with someone, there is no one else in the world except for him and his lover. just looking at the way that reo acted when nagi left him for isagi says enough already on its own; reo didn’t try to find someone else to replace nagi—he tried getting nagi back and grieved. when reo falls in love, he truly wants no one else. even if someone goes on their knees and begs for reo to give someone else a chance, he’ll just reject them. in fact, reo will do anything for his lover to stay.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ kunigami - walking green flag. growing up with younger sisters, he knows that being loyal and dating someone who he truly loves is extremely important. he always makes sure to not date someone or give someone who he doesn’t like the wrong idea because he doesn’t want to break their heart and make himself feel guilty. similar to reo, once kunigami falls in love, the world is just him and his lover. to him, falling in love is an eternal thing—something forever. and kunigami knows better than to take advantage of that.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ barou - just like kunigami, barou always grew up with younger sisters who he took good care of. he understands to be a loyal man—that it’s important to treat someone who he loves in a devoted and loyal way. it’s rare for barou to fall in love because this man KNOWS his worth. he doesn’t want someone who will take advantage of him and his housewife ways; so barou falling in love is—like kunigami—a lifetime thing. he’s dedicated to whoever his lover is because…why shouldn’t he? if he fell in love, he won’t fall out of love.

[beloveds-embrace]

Ask for the dukedom poly 141!

How did it started for all of them to get together? Any specific details? Who fell for whom first? Did it start as just sex? Is it still just sex? Or some kind of deep feelings? Some brutal men type of love wich could be soften with Reader's delicate tenderness? I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING! Please please please?

Part one

It started first with Kyle and John! They grew up together, and had all their firsts together despite the age difference because their fathers often worked together despite Kyle’s family being commoners, and by the time John became a Duke, Kyle had also befriended and slept with Johnny and was just finishing his own training- recently moved in from the neighbouring country an the attraction between them had been apparent from the very start.

Up until that point, Kyle and John hadn’t put a label on what they had; they just knew they loved the other, and slept together in more ways than one. Johnny and Kyle started out as just sex, but Johnny took his mother’s natural socialness and would still drag Kyle with him to the family bakery they’d opened up.

Johnny meets John through Kyle, and it’s that same spark of attraction once again- except Kyle joins them, obviously, too. That same spark and yet another thing that tastes just as sweet as the desserts Johnny makes and helps his parents sell.

Even now, they don’t put a label on it. They can’t, even if they wanted to. John is meant to marry a good woman who will give him an heir and they are commoners. It was never meant to be but they don’t care.

John then becomes a Duke, and as is tradition he enlists in the empire’s military to prove his loyalty and show his Dukedome’s strength. Right before he leaves, he hires both Kyle and Johnny. The night before he is set to leave is one they spend entirely awake.

It’s during his time in the military thag John meets fellow Duke Simon, whose attitude is cold and stoic yet no one can deny his strength. John is among the few who are unafraid or unbothered by his attitude.

Saving one another (John refuses to leave any man behind and Simon refuses to leave any debts unpaid), deep in the trenches and with so much tension and stress, a few fucks would honestly boost morale.

Except Simon doesn’t do anything half-assed and John is a sucker for this surly bastard and well. He knows Simon fits Kyle and Johnny’s types too.

Once he and Simon are finished with their mandatory enlisting, John takes up the rest of his duties and ignores the need for a wife even if rumors swirl. And just as he predicted, his men do get along very well. He’s happy with his men whom he loves (it took a while to accept that it was truly love, but it’s undeniable) and the last thing he wants to add into his house is a woman who would no doubt never accept this arrangement and who’d never respect Johnny and Kyle and would drag them all in trouble.

But he can’t push it off for too long, and even Kyle, Johnny, and Simon tell him they _understand_- Simon especially but thankfully most everyone is too scared of him to say anything- and that he should just do it.

That’s when you come in; sweet, precious you who don’t threaten them with anything when you find out, and who are nice to all of them even when John knows some newspapers have started calling you barren. Soft, precious you who John also accepts as his own, and he knows, just watching you interact with them, you are what would soften and sweeten this relationship more. You are perfect for them, and when he hears about Graves and you? John knows he can’t just sit back anymore.

[justcat-judging]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞

⋆. 𐙚˚- 𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒅 '𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒏𝒂𝒑 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆' 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒂 𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅.

𝑰𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝒀𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊, 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖, 𝑹𝒆𝒐 𝑴𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝑺𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐, 𝑹𝒊𝒏 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊, 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒖 𝑹𝒚𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒆, 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝑲𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓, 𝑺𝒂𝒆 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

𝑰𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝒀𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒊

It started as a joke.

You sent Yoichi a snap of you in the mirror, flexing a very unimpressive "bicep," captioned, "When he's copying your snaps, so you pulled this move." It was part of that dumb TikTok trend you saw, and honestly? You didn't expect a reply.

But a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

Yoichi had sent back a snap—his serious face in the mirror, mimicking your exact pose, sleeve rolled up, arm flexed. His bicep actually had definition, which made it ten times funnier. You could tell he was trying so hard not to laugh.

Then he messaged:

"You tryna start a flex war?"

"Because I'm winning."

You choked on your water, grinning like an idiot.

Touché, Isagi. Touché.

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒂 𝑴𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖

You sent the snap mid-laugh—shirt sleeve tugged up, face exaggeratedly serious, flexing your "bicep" like it was made of steel. The caption read:

"Since you love copying my snaps, here's one to test your loyalty."

A beat passed.

Then your phone lit up with a reply.

It was Bachira, shirt halfway off, in the middle of what looked like the team dorm hallway. He had one eyebrow raised, flexing both arms like a wrestler in a dramatic pose. His caption?

"HA! Is that all you got? I’m FLEXING my LOVE for you."

"Also my muscles. But mostly love."

You burst out laughing. Somewhere in the background of the snap, someone (probably Isagi) was yelling "PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!"

Bachira just sent another photo of his bicep… with a crudely drawn smiley face on it.

"He says hi."

𝑹𝒆𝒐 𝑴𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒈𝒆

You sent the snap, flexing your arm with a teasing grin, trying to match the same playful energy from before.

"Let's see if you can top this one, Reo."

You knew he wouldn't back down from a challenge.

It only took a minute before his response came. Reo, in front of a mirror again, perfecting his pose as usual. His flex was smooth, his bicep clearly defined, and his expression… well, still effortlessly smug.

"Is that your best shot? You'll have to try harder if you want to beat me."

Reo's confidence was something else, and it showed in the way he held his pose like he was born to flex. He wasn't just copying you—he was trying to show you that he was the one setting the bar.

You couldn't help but smile.

𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊 𝑺𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐

You stretched your arm, flexed in the mirror, and snapped a photo with a wide grin plastered on your face.

"He keeps copying my snaps, so I hit him with this one."

You figured Nagi wouldn't respond. Too much effort. Too lazy. Too… Nagi.

But then—ping.

Snap received. It was Nagi, in bed, half under the covers, one arm sticking out just enough to mirror your pose. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were barely open. But his flex? Still better than yours.

"Ugh. So much work. Did I win?"

The worst part? He probably didn't even try.

And yes—he definitely won. (My heart)

𝑹𝒊𝒏 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

You aimed your camera at the mirror, flexed with all the fake intensity you could muster, and snapped the photo.

"Since you wanna copy my snaps so bad, try this one."

You smirked as you sent it, expecting either no reply or something dripping with passive aggression.

But a few minutes later, Rin's snap popped up.

Same angle. Same flex. His face was unreadable, jaw set, but he’d clearly copied you.

Only difference? His arm actually looked dangerous.

"You done?"

No emojis. No extra words. Just peak Rin.

But you could feel the tiniest bit of effort behind that mirror-perfect pose.

He copied you. And that was basically love, Rin-style. (Headlock when?)

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒖 𝑹𝒚𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒆

You hit send with a smug grin, flexing your arm dramatically in the mirror.

"Let's see if he copies this one."

Shidou wasn't the type to pass up a challenge—especially if it was stupid.

Sure enough, his snap came fast.

He was shirtless, of course, flexing both arms like he was on a magazine cover, wild grin in full effect. Hair messy. Chaos radiating.

"You tryna turn me on or start a flex-off?"

"Cuz I’m down for both."

You stared at your phone.

Yeah. You walked right into that one.

𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑲𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓

You sent the snap with a playful smirk, dramatically flexing in the mirror like you had biceps worthy of worship.

"He keeps copying my snaps, so I hit him with this one."

You weren't sure if Kaiser would even take the bait.

Then—ping.

Snap incoming: Kaiser, shirt slightly pulled up, sleeve pushed back, perfectly copying your pose with annoyingly perfect lighting and annoyingly real muscle.

"Cute. But mine's premium."

Of course he added a smug wink at the end. You could practically hear the ego through the screen.

He copied you, alright. But he still made it all about him.

Very Kaiser of him.

𝑺𝒂𝒆 𝑰𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊

You sent the snap with a casual flex, barely putting in any effort—just enough to make it look like you were playing along.

"Let's see you copy this."

You weren't sure if Sae would humor you, but a few moments later, your phone buzzed.

It was Sae. Of course, he was posing like a model, not even breaking a sweat. His flex was effortless, and his eyes were narrowed like he was sizing you up.

"Pathetic. Try harder next time."

The flex wasn't the only thing on display. He made it clear that he was above the game, even as he played along. But he did copy you.

Sae was always a little extra, and you kind of loved it.

𝑨/𝒏: 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒎 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕.. 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒌𝒚𝒖𝒖 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐?

-𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐯𝐞𝐫

[theskywithin]

The Part of You That Keeps Coming Back in Every Relationship

Chiron in Aries

You keep choosing people who make you feel like a race. Something fast. Something loud. Something you have to win before it disappears again. You’ve confused urgency with love because nobody ever stayed long enough to teach you the difference. They fell in love with your spark but never asked what it costs you to keep burning. So you rush toward closeness. You show up quickly. You say yes before you even know what you need. Because somewhere in you, there’s still a child who thought that to be chosen meant to arrive first. To be louder. Stronger. Faster. To make sure no one ever passed you by again. But what if love isn’t a finish line? What if it’s a quiet room and someone waiting inside who won’t leave when you finally stop running?

Chiron in Taurus

You wait by doors long after they’ve been closed. You hold on like love is something you owe to time, to memory, to the version of yourself that once felt safe in their hands. You don’t call it fear. You call it loyalty. You call it knowing how to stay. But deep down, you know there’s a difference between being devoted and being afraid to move. You were taught that if you lose something, you have to mourn it forever or risk being called ungrateful. So you hold. You hold people, patterns, promises, even when your hands are blistered. Even when it’s costing you the softness you were born with. But not everything that ends is a betrayal. Not everything that leaves is a loss. And not every silence means you were forgotten. You are allowed to loosen your grip. To choose peace over permanence. To walk away without apologizing for the way your heart finally opened its fists.

Chiron in Gemini

You say a lot. But you rarely say what you mean. Not because you’re hiding, but because you’ve lived inside your head for so long you’re not sure what’s real until someone answers back. You learned early that connection lives in conversation, so you kept talking. Even when the silence was begging to be heard. You narrate your pain like a story with no ending, hoping someone will interrupt you just to say, “I’ve felt that too.” You want to be heard, but not just for your thoughts, for your tremble. For the part of you that doesn’t know how to be eloquent when the truth shows up shaking. You want to be listened to even when you don’t make sense. Even when you go quiet mid-sentence because something in you suddenly remembers that no one ever stayed when your voice got soft. But connection doesn’t come from being articulate. It comes from being real. And the people who are meant for you will read between the pauses and stay for the parts you never learned how to say out loud.

Chiron in Cancer

You’ve always known how to make others feel safe. You know when to offer silence. You know where it hurts without being told. You know how to pour your heart into theirs and leave yours untouched. You call it love. But sometimes it’s just the ache of not knowing how to ask for the same in return. You carry people like they’re fragile and you never tell them that you are too. You think if you’re strong enough, gentle enough, invisible enough, they’ll stay. You learned that needing was dangerous, that the moment you reached for something, it could be used against you or taken away. So now, you give and give, hoping someone will notice the hunger in your hands without you having to say it aloud. But love isn’t earned in silence. It doesn’t only belong to the ones who arrive whole. You are allowed to fall apart in front of someone and still be held. You are allowed to be kept, even when your softness feels like a risk.

Chiron in Leo

You’ve made joy your offering. You bring light into every room and pretend it doesn’t dim you. You laugh loudly. You speak beautifully. You give more than you have just to make sure no one leaves with less. And when they do leave, you wonder if maybe you should’ve glowed brighter. You’ve learned to become unforgettable because being overlooked once felt like vanishing. So you perform. Not for applause, but for proof. That you mattered. That you were worth remembering. That someone saw you before you gave them a reason to. But love isn’t earned in volume. It’s not handed to the most radiant. It’s found in the quiet afterward, when your hands are empty, your heart is tired, and someone reaches for you anyway. You are not a spark to be used. You are not a sun to orbit. You are a whole sky. And you deserve the kind of love that stays, even when the light goes out.

Chiron in Virgo

You are always editing yourself. You notice the things others don’t. A word misplaced. A glance too long. The way silence lingers after you speak. You read people like instruction manuals, and wonder why no one does the same for you. You offer help before they ask, clean up what no one saw fall. You make yourself easier to love by making yourself smaller to need. You’ve learned that being useful is safer than being open. That being essential is the next best thing to being wanted. But closeness isn’t a reward. You don’t have to earn rest by stitching everyone else’s wounds first. The people who are meant for you won’t keep a ledger. They’ll sit in the room you’ve tried to organize into worthiness and say: You don’t have to do anything. I already see you.

Chiron in Libra

You’ve become so good at becoming who they need that you’ve forgotten who you were before they asked. You read the room like a script, pause where it pleases, smile where it softens. You keep peace like a secret, fragile, heavy, and never yours to keep. You call it love. But sometimes it’s just the fear of being left if you ever stopped being easy to hold. You want connection, deeply. Desperately. But you’ve spent a lifetime offering the watered-down version of yourself because you’re afraid the full one might be too complicated to keep. You’ve been chosen for your light, your ease, your grace, but what you crave is to be chosen when you’re messy. When you’re quiet. When you finally say no. Real love doesn’t flinch when you disagree. It doesn’t vanish when you stop performing. It stays, even when your reflection does not.

Chiron in Scorpio

You want someone to see you. But you don’t make it easy. You hand them clues, watch how gently they hold them, then pull back the moment they get too close. Because once, you let someone in and they didn’t stay. They saw your softness, your shadow, your truth before it had time to dress itself and they left anyway. Now you love like a secret. Intense. Unspoken. Full of meaning, but never a map. You long for intimacy but only the kind that doesn’t ask you to explain why you’re shaking. You say you trust slowly. But what you mean is: I’m still carrying what they dropped when I finally handed them my heart. But not everyone wants to hurt you. Not everyone will leave when you reveal the parts you usually bury. The right ones will stay at the threshold until you’re ready to open the door and they won’t ask you to be anything but exactly as you are on the other side.

Chiron in Sagittarius

You keep one foot out the door even when you want to stay. You say you love the open road, the unscripted moments, the freedom, but sometimes, freedom is just what you’ve learned to call the space you create before someone else takes it from you. You leave before you can be left. You joke when the conversation gets too close. You make meaning feel like a game so no one sees how badly you want to be known. It’s not fear of love. It’s fear of the weight love brings, the way it roots you, names you, asks you to belong somewhere long enough to be missed. You long for connection that doesn’t cost you your wings. But closeness doesn’t mean confinement. And being seen doesn’t mean being captured. The right ones won’t put a leash on your spirit. They’ll walk beside it. And still make you feel like you’ve never been more free.

Chiron in Capricorn

You show up holding more than anyone knows. You carry the silence. The weight. The work. You call it responsibility, but deep down, it’s the belief that love comes after you've proven your value. You were never handed softness. So you built yourself out of stone, reliable, composed, safe for everyone but yourself. You say you don’t need much. But that’s a lie you learned to survive. You pour effort into everything, because somewhere along the way, someone taught you that ease meant laziness and softness meant weakness and being needed was the closest thing to being kept. But love doesn’t wait until you're finished. It doesn’t ask for your résumé. It doesn’t care how much you’ve carried. The ones meant for you will see the cracks in your strength and call them beautiful. Not because you broke, but because you let someone see where it hurt.

Chiron in Aquarius

You stand at the edge of every room, watching the way people reach for each other, wondering when someone will notice you’ve never quite learned how to stay. You love from afar, not because you don’t feel deeply, but because closeness has always asked you to become something you’re not. You learned that blending in meant safety. That being understood meant compromise. So now, you speak in riddles, leave before they ask questions, and hope someone can love you without needing to hold you. You’ve taught yourself that being misunderstood is better than being swallowed. That disappearing on your own terms hurts less than being forgotten. But love doesn’t always require explanation. Sometimes, it just asks for presence. You don’t have to leave to be free. And you don’t have to isolate to be whole. The ones meant for you will sit beside the quiet in you and never ask it to speak, only to stay.

Chiron in Pisces

You love like fog, gentle, all-encompassing, and barely there. You become what they need so you never have to ask for what you do. You disappear in the name of closeness. You soften your edges until no one knows where they end and you begin. You call it compassion. But sometimes it’s just fear that if you show up fully, they might leave for something quieter. You’ve mistaken sacrifice for safety. You’ve believed that love means letting go of yourself just enough to be wanted, but not so much that you vanish entirely. But love that requires your disappearance is not love. It is longing dressed as devotion. It is erasure wrapped in grace. You don’t have to disappear to be held. You don’t have to hurt to be holy. You are allowed to stay, exactly as you are, and still be chosen.

[changeling-droneco]

Hi I'm that person who made the original post about "no doesn mean no" when a small bit of the mr beast company document was leaked, well, now we have the full document (thanks rosanna) so I'm going to go over it. Please note I am not a lawyer or a business man, I'm in college for psychology, so I might misunderstand some things or make the wrong conclusion. However, if this is a document made for the average mr. beast employee, if I cannot understand it properly, then im sure some employees also struggled

First of all, the opening paragraph. Like I get it's supposed to be like, to put people at ease, but

This is so strange? Like, first of all, this is your EMPLOYEE MANUAL, you should have run it through like, a spell check? Or had someone edit it? This is already incredibly unprofessional. Also the promising of a thousand dollars if you pass a quiz on it? It's bizarre and I'd love to see if it's an actual quiz.

Jimmy, hun, please god get an editor for this you're already trying my patience.

YOU SHOULD, you genuinely should, while interconnected these are all COMPLETELY different jobs, if you think you could write a separate manual for each branch you SHOULD

I'm sure I'm about to get an answer but what the fuck is the best YOUTUBE video then? If it's not comedy, its not production, its not quality, its not look, then what the hell is left? (monetization, it's monetization)

First of all, Jimmy, why are you using internet lingo in this, it's not a text message, this is not a place for, idc, and lol, and not capitalizing your headers correctly??? Also like I said, he's chasing trends for monetization, and also he's just wrong, there are plenty of hollywood level shows and the like on youtube. You fully admit you do not care about trends and actively rush things?

This is just fucked??? Like of COURSE IT MATTERS??? Results based company is bullshit, your employees that worked for five weeks and failed aren't "lesser" then James, it's a structural failure! They still worked for HOURS to try and succeed?? That shows merit and loyalty??? What the fuck???

Rosanna covers this one in her video but it's worth restating that this is FUCKED??? It's clear overwork "your job is your family" culture. Especially the use of the word obsessive? If you do not OBSESS over your work, you are considered poisonous. NO WONDER we have so many reports of employees doing things they feel is dangerous or unsafe, if they don't they're considered POISON to the company.

The formatting in this doc continues to fucking kill me, what are you DOING man GET AN EDITOR

This feels like such an easy fix of just...make the thumbnail after the fact? Or only make a rough draft of one first? Like if production makes a red bouncy castle instead of a yellow one, that feels like an easy fix to the thumbnail OR a communication error, and again, that's on management

A lot of the next stuff is like analytics stuff that for the most part I can't really speak on as someone who does not do any of this stuff. There are a few things though

Which like???? what??? a lull??? what do you mean "watching a video without even realizing they are watching a video??" That doesn't scream good or even mediocre content to me. If I'm actively tuning out as I watch a video, that's bad. Especially because there have been plenty of times I've been like half way through a video i go "hey this sucks actually" and click off. They actively want their audience to not be paying attention to the video so it runs all the way through, that's kinda pathetic.

I don't actually know if this is common or not in this industry, but as an outsider this seems INCREDIBLY micromanaging to me, to an immense degree.

Jimmy why are you putting swears in your employee manual?? sir??? and also something about this whole thing icks me out, I don't quite have the words but the whole emphasis on "im different im special no one else can be me" just reeks of something kind of manipulative

Why is production changing so much Jimmy??? Infinite growth is the mindset of a cancer cell Jimmy! This is incredibly unstable working conditions! Also again with the word obsession, if you take time out of your own day on your own time to watch hulu, that's seen as not being obsessed enough for the company. This is nonsensical!

Again, this is INSANELY micromanaging, and also so fucking unhinged??? "God himself couldn't stop you from making this video on time" is NOT a healthy work mindset, things HAPPEN!!!

In this segment he's actually talking normal things but I did just want to highlight his use of "freaken" who the hell puts that in an EMPLOYEE MANUEL

Again with the micromanaging, and the immense pressure on employees for problems OTHER people do. While he's not fully wrong that you should be in more contact with the contractor then the example, this is too much in the other direction. How much time in the day does he think people have?!

My kingdom for a fucking paragraph break dude, my fucking eyes. Also this is a lot of "im so great and do everything and you should do more for me and if i dont know something that's your fault" for something titled "I am not always right"

I'm getting lazy with my highlighting, but again, the micromanaging? If you're SOOO busy, the first question should be the ideal? it's quick and makes a quick decision, while the second one meanders and meanders

Again, Jimmy is pushing blame for HIS mistakes on OTHER PEOPLE. For again, a section called "i am not always right" hes taking NO accountability for that and just making the SAME excuses he's berating in other places.

I can't even tell what he means here AN EDITOR JIMMY

Autism Hell tm, PLEASE email me so I can DOUBLE CHECK IT, things in writing are SO useful

Again the language towards "C-Players" which as mr beast has said, are the people who y'know, are NORMAL employees who DON'T live and breathe this company

Okay first of all, a Lamborghini is like 300k so that's already A REALLY hard task, and i sure hope don't usually put typos in the tasks. SECOND of all the fact he thinks its okay to go "hey if the studio is literally on fire around you and you stop working to get the Lamborghini, you're not doing good enough" even if he claims it as a joke is NOT OKAY what the FUCK

We've covered this before, but to reiterate this segment is named after a sexual assault reference when it could have been named ANYTHING ELSE and harasses employees and pressures them to break rules, don't do that.

I'm not an editor, so maybe this is normal, but as someone from the outside it seems strange to put this much emphasis on dividing focus between so many videos at once.

Jimmy, hun, are you paying extra for this? Because if I'm an editor and you want me FILMING stuff then i want to be paid more for doing TWO jobs and I probably still wont be as skilled a TRAINED CAMERA MAN

First of all now THAT'S a type, consteatants. Also the fact they are aware that leaving contestants out in the sun is bad, why are you not doing MORE TO STOP IT BEYOND "hey maybe giving them three hours of heatstroke is bad, try only two next time"

Don't we love favoritism, more shitty unprofessional writings, and a completely unstable work environment?

If your people have to pull all nighters period something is wrong, and if something happens to an employees car that could have seriously hurt someone, i sure hope you care more then just "LOL FUNNY" Who's picking up the broken glass? Who's reimbursing the car owner? That one meme of "your first care should be commitment to the bit" is a MEME jimmy, it's not ACTUAL ADVICE

Ah shit I hit image limit, well, you've seen enough screenshots to know these are screenshots, we're almost done I'll put them in as quotes

"Let’s say you are tasked with finding us a castle to live in for 50 hours and while doing research you find a castle and a number to call for the owner. So you do call, and he answers. Only problem is he says he quit the castle renting business to pursue his dream of building a 100 foot tall lego catapult. You can obviously tell where i’m going with this. Ideally you’d recognize that’s badass as fuck and try to convince him to let us use it when we do find a castle. This is a bad example because it’s so obvious but if you’re doing your job right you will be doing an absurd amounts of calls and data collecting. While trying to complete your prios and prepare for the video you should always be on the lookout for new things you can bring to your creative team to inspire them. Because just like me, they don’t know what they don’t know and you can’t just say “i’m in production and i’m not very creative” because that’s literally the equivalent of saying I suck at what I do. You also need to apply this same mindset when problem solving because many people lose sight of this stuff when in the weeds. If a problem appears, always always always ask yourself if your new plan is whats best for creative, not just the easiest bandaid."

First of all it's really funny seeing all the red lines pop up, second of all this insistent blurring of everyone's job seems so strange? Again maybe this is normal, but it really feels like Jimmy wants everyone working every job, instead on focusing on what they are actually hired to do.

"What is the goal of our content?

To excite me. The goal of our content is to excite me. That may sound weird to some of you, especially if you’re new but to me it’s what’s most important. If I'm not excited to get in front of that camera and film the video, it’s just simply not going to happen."

That's fucking weirddddd, like I get that he's trying to be like "im authentic" but it always feels like a bad sign when the goal of a company is literally just "What amuses the boss" like...bad sign

"this is youtube and there are constraints. You know the video can’t be a minute so you’re obviously going to need a story to hold the viewers and there are rules to storytelling. Our audience is massive and because of that you have to be simple, for 50 million people to understand something it must be simple. Content can be anything but there is structure and rules that we must mold it into that I want to teach you about, because virality doesn’t just happen. Every frame of our videos will be seen by 10s of millions of people"

Gross

"I'd say the average MrBeast viewer is a teenage memer that likes video games."

Mr Beast is completely aware of his demographic and puts screen shots of it, he is very aware his stuff is aimed at kids, even when its about gambling or hiring people not around near minors

"I feel silly for having to write this but all the time I talk to 32 new people that have at most seen like 5 or 6 of our videos and it’s mind blowing that they don’t see a problem with that lol."

It's almost like your audience is teenage memer and that people who working here are not in fact, teenage memers.

"What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet.

How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content."

If my job as a creative writer had my boss tell me to have to see whats "popping on tik tok" as part of my job i'd quit also again, the micromanaging of someone's life as well pops up again, it's weirddd

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

If talent wants to draw a dick on the white board in the video or do something stupid, let them. (assuming they know all the risks and arn’t missing context on why it’s not safe) People like when we are in our natural element of stupidity. Really do everything you can to empower the boys when filming and help them make content. Help them be idiots"

More favoritism

"If you’ve made it this far you are probably at least semi interested in this being your career. So I wanted to chat about it. Because if you're ambitious and want to dedicate your life to work, you picked the best company in America to do it at. I really don’t care to hoard a bunch of money and I deeply believe in rewarding the people that help this business get where it needs to be. But before I get into that, let’s talk about the future. As I write this we have 2 teams, that will grow to 4 in the next year. (and possibly 8 in the next 2 years but I can’t talk about that cause james will kill me haha). We need more leaders in the company. Weneed hard working, obsessive, coachable, intelligent, grinders that can step up and take some of these leadership spots over the next 2 years. Every single department has an opportunity for you to grow in and you’re in luck because we don’t do yearly reviews. We do whenever the fuck you want reviewes"

Lack of communication from management, and more emphasis on grinding and crunch culture, goodie, all while riddled with typos! God.

"I see a world where this company is worth billions and one day 10s of billions. And those of you that help build this will be rewarded. I want nothing more then for you to go all in, obsessive all day everyday, and become so god dam valuable this company can’t operate without you. And in return for becoming so valuable I hope to give you incredible experiences, a fun place to work, and of course, more money then you could ever dream of making at any other company."

I feel like I'm reading a fucking pyramid scheme document here, "youre so so valuable spend literally every minute of every day on this company haha" good GOD man

[whisperingdaze]

❝ I WAS ALL OVER HER ❞

⛧𓂃 dean winchester x fem!reader

989 words ノ fluff

summary ⨾ a look into how dean winchester sees you .

dean winchester who has had to fight his whole life— whether its monsters, ghosts, demons, angels and even humans. he’s always been drawn to people who can hold their own and that’s why he’s drawn to you. he admires your strength and the way you handle the crazy, unpredictable supernatural world he lives in. even if you’re fighting alongside him in a hunt or just managing the chaos of his life, he loves how you stay grounded even if everything around you is terrible.

he loves how you stand up to him when he’s being stubborn or when his protective instincts kick in too hard. it’s not about you always being tough, but the way you push back when you need to, showing him you’re not afraid to challenge his methods and ways and to make him see from your perspective, a different perspective.

dean winchester who puts up walls around himself, guarding him from being hurt again. his vulnerabilities stay hidden behind snark remarks, sarcastic comments, and the tough-guy bravado. but you, your the one who can see right past all that even from the first moment you met him. you see all the layers that makes up dean; soldier of heaven, messenger of god, the true vessel of michael. you see the broken pieces of him, the things he doesn’t know how to express, the flaws that make him. that’s what he loves about you. you accept him and you never try to change or fix him. you get him.

he feels a sense of relief when he’s with you, he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not. you let him be himself, the real and true him, without any judgment and just love, and that’s something he doesn’t usually get from a lot of people. he lets himself be vulnerable with you, knowing you always listen to him even if he’s silent and pushing you away. you’re the one who makes him feel like he doesn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders all the time.

dean winchester who isn’t used to people sticking around. he’s seen friends and family come and go, from his mother to his father, and even seeing his brother die. sometimes, it makes him feel that he’s destined to be alone in this cruel world. but there’s something about you, something that makes him feel whole. your loyalty to him is unwavering, your willingness to stay by his side no matter the danger. he may joke about it, or even brush it off, but deep down, he’s incredibly grateful and knows he’s lucky to have you in his life.

the guilt of everything he’s done in his life weighs him down, threatening to pull him under, like one small slip and he just disappears. you’re the one person who never gave up on him, anchoring him to this world. one thing that he’ll never admit, he loves that your there, consistently, through everything.

dean winchester whose life is full of mayhem— there’s the blood, the constant hunts and of course, the constant threat of death. and he’s been in it for so long that it’s hard for him to imagine a normal life. you make him feel like there’s something worth living outside of the hunts and saving the world. when he’s with you, everything is different. he can imagine eventually settling down, having children, getting married and all the things normal couples do. whether you’re sharing a meal together in some diner, or settling into some worn out bed in a dingy motel room, you’re his escape from the madness.

dean winchester who isn’t always the best at communicating and even worse at opening up. but you, your someone who challenges him to be better, to think outside his old patters, to overcome unhealthy habits, and to consider things he might not have before. it varies from, pushing him to take a break when he’s running on fumes or it’s encouraging him to heal from his past wounds. you know how to get through to him in a way that no one else can. he respects the fact you call him out on all his crap when its necessary but you also understand when to let him come around on his own.

dean loves the fact you aren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when it comes to him. he knows he can be a stubborn pain, but you can hold your own against him while still showing him care, even when you don’t agree with him.

dean winchester who has a tough, no-nonsense exterior. he knows the world can be messed up and pretty dark, and it’s rare for him to find someone who holds onto their sense of empathy. he loves how you care about people, how your heart hasn’t hardened by the world’s cruelty. you’ve got a natural way of bringing light into his life without trying, and that’s something he never thought he would find.

in a word full of demons and monsters, he appreciates that you haven’t lost sight of what matters the most; kindness, love and loyalty. you make him remember that there’s still good in this world, and that’s what he clings onto.

dean winchester is a guy who doesn’t always take life seriously, he uses humour as his armour sometimes. and he loves your sense of your humour too, you get his jokes and sometimes you can even one-up him with your own quick wit. he loves the way you can make him laugh, even when he has been to hell and back. this sets you apart from anyone else in his life.

the laughter you two share together, is something dean holds onto. it’s those moments when he truly feels alive. he isn’t just a hunter, or just a survivor— but a guy who is trying to enjoy his life with you. the love of his life.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Worth it┃sirius black

summary: where Sirius is completely in love with James's sister, but everytime he wants to ask her on a date somehow ends up doing something embarrassing

just sirius being a dumbass in love

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ･˳ . ⋆

Sirius Black, known for his confident attitude and big ego, became a totally different person when it came to Y/n Potter, James' twin sister. From the moment he first saw her on the Hogwarts Express, he fell in love with her. Her bright eyes, her laughter that echoed through the halls, and her loyalty to her friends captivated Sirius in a way he couldn't explain.

However, every attempt Sirius made to impress her seemed to end in humiliation. Whether it was tripping over his own feet, accidentally dropping a potion in Potions class while he was trying to show off, or simply forgetting his words when she stared at him or smiled, Sirius managed to humiliate himself over and over again and the marauders found endless fun in his failed attempts.

One particularly incident occurred during a Gryffindor Quidditch match. Sirius had been practicing tirelessly, determined to catch Y/n's eye with his skills as a Seeker and impress her (again). As he zoomed across the pitch during the game against Slytherin, he spotted Y/n cheering enthusiastically in the stands. Heart pounding with nerves, Sirius dove towards the Snitch, only to misjudge his speed and crash into a ring, sending the Snitch away to the opposite end of the field. The entire stadium bursted into laughter, including Y/n, who clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Nice one, Pad! Maybe next time you'll catch something other than the ground," James joked mercilessly after the match, laughing his head off, slapping Sirius on the back.

Sirius tried to laugh, but inside he felt enormous disappointment and shame. He had wanted with all his might to impress Y/n, to show her that he was more than just a prankster or a reckless troublemaker. But every time he tried, it seemed like he only managed to make a fool of himself.

Despite his repeated failures, Sirius refused to give up, she was worth it and he wasn't going to give up so easily. He found himself casting nervous glances at Y/n during meals in the Great Hall, trying to work up the courage to approach her. However, every time he decided to talk to her, his tongue would get stuck and his palms would sweat. Even simple greetings turned into awkward exchanges in which Sirius would end up stumbling over his words or making some ill-timed joke that fell flat.

One rainy afternoon, Sirius was sitting in his dorm with his friends. Peter and Remus were playing a game of wizard chess nearby while James lay on his bed playing with his snitch, occasionally casting sympathetic glances in Sirius' direction.

"You know, mate," Remus began tentatively, moving a knight on the board, "maybe you should just ask her out straightforwardly. None of this grand gesture stuff. Just be yourself."

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've tried, Moony. Every time I try to talk to her, I end up making a complete fool of myself. She probably thinks I'm an idiot by this point."

James chuckled "Nah, she doesn't think you're an idiot. Just a bit… charmingly clumsy as she told me."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile at his friends' attempts to cheer him up. Deep down, he knew they were right. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong. Perhaps what Y/n needed was not grand gestures or witty banter, but simply honesty.

The next day, Sirius was walking through the black lake, letting his feet walk without any direction, however he realized that he was precisely addressing Y/n who was reading a book in front of the lake. His heart raced as he made his way over, his friends watching with anticipation from a distance.

"Here goes nothing," Sirius muttered under his breath, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

As he approached Y/n, she looked up and smiled warmly at him. Sirius felt his legs weak.

''Hey Y/n''

''Hey sirius, what's up?''

''everythings fine, um I wanted to ask you something''

Sirius felt his throat dry and his mind went blank.

''Are you okey sirius? you seem a bit...pale'' Y/n asked doubtfully, standing up and getting closer to Sirius.

''No! I'm good don't worry!'' Sirius was actually planning on pretending to faint, or running away.

''Okey?..Well anyways I also wanted to ask you something''

Sirius was about to open his mouth to let the words out but Y/n interrupted him.

''I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Y/n said smiling ear to ear

Time seemed to stand still for Sirius. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did she just ask him out before he could ask her?

Taken by surprise, Sirius took a step back, his heart racing even more. To his surprise, he tripped on a tree root and fell to the ground with a thud.

Laughter erupted in the distance, echoing through the garden. James, Remus and Peter had been responsible for these as they were almost crying of laughter, unable to contain their amusement at Sirius's latest fall.

Sirius lay on the ground for a moment, his face burning with shame. He stood up as quickly as he could, trying to maintain some semblance of composure and dignity.

Y/n rushed over to him, concern mixing with her laughter. "Oh my god!, are you okay?"

Sirius nodded, his cheeks still flushed. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just… just caught me by surprise, that's all."

Y/n chuckled softly, offering him a hand up. "Sorry about that. I couldn't resist."

Despite the embarrassment, Sirius couldn't help but grin. "No need to apologize. I… I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you."

Y/n smiled wildly, relief evident in her eyes. "Great! It's a date then."

Sirius felt a wave of relief and excitement. He had managed to get through another embarrassing moment, but this time he had turned out better than he could have imagined.

As they separated, the rest of the marauders approached him, still laughing at him. James patted him on the back, shaking his head in amusement and hugging him by the side and Sirius couldn't help but do a little victory dance.

Despite all his fumbles and embarrassing moments, he knew one thing for certain: Y/n Potter was worth every stumble and every awkward pause.

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[evilherehotel]

one is a very interesting character to me. with most of the lore still up in the air as of the time this is written, it's hard to be sure who exactly she is; or, who she was. today, i want to take a closer look at what we have her character and try to figure out what that "was" could've looked like.

first, i'll start with what we know.

above all else, one is controlling. whether that be in a literal sense, when one influences the world and events around her, or in an emotional sense, when it comes to manipulating others in order to get them to agree to her deals.

in tpot 13, she tells basketball that something they have in common is not liking when things don't go their way. this makes sense for one; every little thing she does is planned, prepared, controlled. she knows the steps people will take before they even take them, she knows every move she needs to make to get under people's skin, and she knows how to make everything go according to plan.

but what about when it doesn't?

in tpot 17, it's as though that control slips. things don't go her way. she isn't nearly as put-together, nor is she calculative or patient enough to even try putting up her persona and coaxing donut in the same way she has with her other signatories. her room seems to reflect her state of mind, scattered and disorganized. she's not stable enough to think of a way to convince him, or even think to hold him down, and her lack of control in the situation gives donut more free will, the ability to reject her deal, and, more importantly, the ability to fight back.

this act is something so spontaneous, so unpredictable, that it causes one to snap and immediately try to grab this control back. she becomes blinded by rage and attacks him, yet her scare tactic only shows more of her weakness: one can't handle feeling powerless.

although she's stronger than donut and was more than willing to show him that, her behavior also seems to stem from a point of insecurity. being disobeyed, treated not as an all-powerful being but instead an equal - or even a lesser - is her breaking point. obviously anybody would be mad over getting kicked, but it's clear something deeper must've been triggered in one in order to get her that manically angry.

where did this need for control come from? how does this tie into her past?

to know this, we should first look at another key detail of her character: her deals.

on first glance, one's signatories don't have much in common. they're easy targets, people with weaknesses that one can easily find and exploit, with not much other correlation. but upon closer inspection, a pattern makes itself clear in every single person that one took into her room.

when fanny joined death pact again, she was taught to abandon her own beliefs and objectives and instead prioritize preventing death. for a while, she obliges by this, even as it causes them to lose challenges and causes her friends to drop out of the game like flies, until she decides she has enough of it and rebels against the others and their beliefs.

ice cube was used as a pawn of sorts by freesmart, a replacement for members that were held to more respect and value than her. her and the others always did what they were told for the alliance, and when she eventually splits off from freesmart, she is almost immediately coddled and controlled by book, still completely unable to speak or think for herself before she eventually snaps at book and leaves altogether.

basketball was completely complacent in bfb, her only feature outside of her loyalty to 8-ball being her empathy for others. this shines through in tpot when, even despite their differences in personality or team, basketball looks out for others more than herself, but nobody else listens to her when she tries to voice the problems she's seeing. this complete disregard for basketball and what she cares about is what causes a downward spiral of events beyond anybody's control.

gaty and two became attached to eachother very quickly, becoming almost codependent in a sense. gaty gives everything she has to two, and her willingness to stay in the hotel with them, to keep them happy - their willingness to keep her there because of their attachment - only puts her in more danger, and ends in them being separated for good.

it's stated outright by one that donut puts others over himself, even people like pencil and their mess of a team. he chooses to be selfless, a voice of reason, a leader that holds the team together despite the chaos it always brings in its wake.

her deals that weren't shown to us onscreen tie into this as well:

bomby, since his debut on bfdi, has been used as a weapon or tool by all of the people around him, mistreated and hurt and never taken seriously despite the fact that he tries to be strong and independent in the later seasons.

bell's privacy is treated as a joke by both the narrative and the others, and struggles to be left alone without help, help that more often than not isn't provided to her.

needle spent so much of her time in bfdia trying to appease others, which led to her being easy to take advantage of. she literally played on two teams at the same time in order to make everyone happy with her, but she eventually decided that she was tired of being used and left these groups, turning against them and deciding to win for herself.

barf bag's autonomy being tampered with started an apocalypse that changed the way she viewed herself and caused her to avoid her team for a brief period of time because she didn't want to be seen as a monster. in that same episode, her nightmare involved people doing things that she couldn't control and influencing her in ways that she couldn't stop.

what do you notice about all of these characters? all of them were overshadowed by others, either by prioritizing them over themselves or by being taken advantage of. all of them want to be recognized, respected, and heard, and despite that, all of them lacked one thing: control. if they wanted control in their lives, they'd have to fight for it, if they wanted power in their lives, they'd have to snap to get people to see that they deserved it. and if that weren't the case, the world around them would snap for them.

one seems to be very, very familiar with this kind of person. familiar enough for them to be her only targets, familiar enough for her to know exactly what to give them and exactly what they want to hear, familiar enough to suggest that this kind of person is much closer to her than just a means to executing her plan.

familiar enough that it could also very well suggest that this kind of person was one herself.

now, we really have no idea what one's past looked like, but we do have a crucial detail given to us by six in tpot 17: she was supposed to be gone.

this implies that one must've done something, something so bad that it made the other algebraliens decide to get rid of her for good. could this have been something ongoing until they decided enough was enough, or was it something bigger than that? had one, perhaps, snapped, the same way we saw her do when she was tested in tpot 17, the same way we saw multiple of her signatories do when they were tired of being pushed aside and looked down on?

in tpot 13, one expresses that she does have power, "but not enough." while this could easily be read in reference to her plan, it also hints at how she looks at herself: her power is not enough. one is not enough.

she needs two's power because she can't reach her goal without it. she needs to become something bigger, something more, in order for her to feel like that's enough for her. being obeyed and looked up to by her victims makes her feel powerful, like she's more, like she's enough, having constant control makes her feel like she's enough, having everything she wants handed to her makes her feel like she's enough, because maybe, she never had that.

maybe, one was just like her targets, selfless and almost complacent at times, observant enough to spot the issues others were having, even if she was the only person who did, even if none of the others took her seriously, even if they pitied her, treated her as a lesser, and acted as though she had no power in her own life.

and all of that lasted until she decided that everyone deserved to be a little selfish - it's only fair.

she became tired of giving herself and not getting anything back. she became tired of being looked down on, tired of not having control - all one wanted was control for once, and she would get that whether they liked it or not.

and that frustration was enough to make one snap and do something that earned her imprisonment in the moon, which only served as a painful and enraging reminder of how they saw her.

she was going to get out, and she was going to make sure that nobody ever looked down on her again.

for now, this is all theories, and it's a bit rough, but i appreciate you guys for sticking around this long !! lets see how well these theories hold up.. if they do.. at all.. um

[yesbothways]

I do not actually know how to handle how brilliant Arcane is. I had thought so much about how hard it would be to write a sex scene for Vi and Caitlyn that would fit with the excellence of the rest of the show. And the main question on my mind was like, where do you make it happen? The when was obvious to me, like right before the final battle, when everything is so heightened. But where was not. You cannot just use Caitlyn's mansion, because it means the wrong thing. This isn't a rags-to-riches for Vi where a girl who is essentially Piltover royalty falls in love with her. No. We aren't doing that. This is a ship where the extreme class difference doesn't mean anything except constant pressure to be enemies - means being caught in a cycle of violence and retribution. In this world, theirs is what a deviant and by default doomed love looks like. The class divide between topside and the undercity is the primary, structural inequality. And for them to essentially use repetition and parallel to stage that scene where Vi focuses on her one core loyalty and breaks the law to save her sister, then Jinx hits Vi in the wound and leaves her locked in the cell alone, and Vi has essentially an emotional crash over the cycle of failure and tragedy she's locked in... only to find that Caitlyn came down to get Vi and let her out of prison again. The way that communicated a crazy level of true love: I have so much recognition that I know what you're going to do when things get real and choices dire. And I love you, not in spite of this, but for this. And I am on your side no matter what is happening around us. Louder than loss or hate or revenge or duty or society. And then they just have sex right there and turn that prison cell into something completely else, unlocked and unprecedented. Nothing could be more of a clear poetic expression that their love wins in this against countless odds. Like if we weren't getting what their relationship was, if we were doubting it, if we were still thinking this story would be a tragedy piled on top of endless lesbian love stories used as the vehicle for tragedy, they just fucking said what their story was so hard it hit like a shift to another world. Punctuated by the final note of the last scene. And I genuinely fucking love them for this.