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idkwhatimdoingbutslay · 8 months

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… I can’t imagine that we actually watched the same show. Like I REALLY AISNSOSNWKMEJDND

hold on I’m gonna need to calm down.

Let me just make a list of why I disagree and at least organize my anger. Long post incoming.

Vander was friends and had a deal with Grayson. The sheriff. Idk what else to even add to that

Caitlyn is more than a cop and Arcane isn’t copaganda. Genuinely don’t know what kind of progress some of these people are looking for. Real allies are a necessity for real progress.

SILCO IS A CLASS TRAITOR. HE FUNNELLED DRUGS INTO THE UNDERCITY AND PUT POOR KIDS IN FACTORIES FOR THAT DRUG FOR PROFIT!!! HE PAID THE ENFORCERS TO LET HIM DO IT WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE

Vi is not as much as an activist as you would like to believe

WHY IS EKKO NEVER EVER BROUGHT UP IN THESE CONVERSATIONS????

Silco was not good for the Undercity

Silco was not a great guy. Ekko had to build an entire separate hidden community for the people he hurt and stepped on for his own benefit

Caitlyn is ignorant and naive. That’s ok. That’s what character development is for.

Loving imperfect characters like Silco and Jinx then hating characters like Vi and Caitlyn is peak media illiteracy to me

FOR THE LAST TIME: VI DIDNT ABANDON POWDER!!!!! Silco literally wanted Vi DEAD for trying to stop him from killing Vander??? How could you possibly say silco was there for jinx when Vi refused to be???? SHE WAS IN PRISON BECAUSE OF HIM???

Silco’s manipulation is working wonders on y’all

Embracing all the outrage without at all looking out for the people harmed by bigotry is not activism

SILCO IS A CLASS TRAITOR x929282929394

Caitlyn was the first person in years to show Vi kindness and care. She listened and stuck by her and took care of her after Vi was locked up for years and beat up by cops (i wonder what led her to be thrown in there?). Cait being a cop stopped being a point of contention once Vi recognized her naivety and genuineness.

NUANCE NUANCE NUANCE. ITS NEVER EVER BLACK AND WHITE

The only way I can see Vi touching ‘class traitor’ in season one was the shimmer raid. Guess who the hell put those kids in there in the first place.

Just hanging out with Caitlyn isn’t being a class traitor if Vander’s allowed to be friends with Grayson.

Critical thinking is very necessary for watching shows like Arcane

What the hell did Silco really do for the Undercity???? What changed over the 7(ish) years he was basically in power of the place? All I’ve heard was he made the air cleaner, which would be great except for, you know, shimmer and the child factory workers

Jinx is unwell and feeding into it like this in a fully serious manor would not help Arcane as a show at all

What do you want Arcane’s message as a full show to be? ‘Screw cops’? That’s a little boring and unproductive isn’t it?

CAN WE TALK ABOUT EKKO AND HIS IMPACT PLEASE???? x9382728283

Caitlyn is trying to make Piltover and Zaun a better place. Is that not allowed? Am I missing something?

Caitlyn and Vi’s arcs have only just started. Season one is basically fully set up except for characters like silco and Jinx. This is far from the end.

Genuinely think Vander would appreciate Vi for being friends (using this term loosely because they are in love) with Caitlyn considering he was the one who was opposed to war and Vi wasn’t.

Silco should NOT be your idea of Undercity independence and respect. He oppressed the Undercity the same way the Council and the Enforcers did. He helped no one but himself, his team (barely) and Jinx.

You’re allowed to like and dislike any character you want but pretending like Silco is better for the Undercity than others is just so ridiculous to me. Everyone is of course completely allowed to like Silco, but we can’t pretend like he’s this stand up guy. If you have to pretend like he was, maybe you don’t like him as much as you think.

“Because Cait’s pretty” is also incredibly incorrect. Go check point #14.

Vi never stopped loving and caring for Powder. Powder’s mental health issues were amplified and utilized by Silco because he couldn’t even heal himself.

If all of your opinions of Caitlyn and Vi start and end with “cops suck” and “class traitor” then you genuinely don’t respect Arcane as a show enough to show you nuance.

The misinterpretation of characters is just so … it’s like you go out of your way to love and/or hate characters no matter how much they show you who you are.

Your closed mindedness is clouding your judgement and making you out to seem like you don’t actually want the Undercity’s triumph, you want Silco and Jinx’s, even if it means ruining the Undercity. And that would be fine because father/daughter evil duo but trying to say you’re all for this duo because you want what’s better for the Undercity when they continue to hurt it is simply not correct and very harmful (to fictional characters in a fictional universe 😭)

Only being able to understand how Silco and Jinx were oppressed and therefore should be able to not just destroy Piltover but also Zaun is not the eat you think it is

Why is Viktor never called a class traitor? I think he's great (I also think Silco and Jinx are wonderfully written) but we hardly saw him in the Undercity/ interact with people from the Undercity plus he killed someone (Sky) from there (accidentally)

EDIT TO ADD ANOTHER POINT: Caitlyn has shown little to NO malicious intent and has no real negative impacts other than Jinx’s attachment issues and insecurities being amplified by her mere existence. Again, this is her story and development. Throughout the season she is exposed to reality and recognizes her and her peers/ families wrongs. I have no idea what you want from this character. Should Piltover just be gotten rid of in the story? Then what? Should Caitlyn have just never gotten involved and continued to embrace her privilege? Should she have left Vi in prison and stay ignorant?

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #point number 32 sums it all up I think #i blocked most of the people who added and made the post so they wont see this lol #i might be overreacting or misinterpreting #maybe i didnt watch the show right #or maybe i did and some of these people are bad at this #some points are most definitely redundant #and im open to people disagreeing.... respectively lol maybe dont wish death on a character and ill hear you out #again i wouldnt dislike silco as much if he wasnt put on a pedestal by people who swear theyre all for the undercity #i wrote this kind of in anger so like sorry about that lol #anti silco #<- for tagging purposes if this is too silco critical for the people who like him #to slay or not to slay #caitvi #this is the second repost because the first two didn’t show up in the tags cuz I messed with my settings 😭😭😭

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aestheticsicrushon · 3 months

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#arcane #silco #silco is the best dad #it's 2024 and i keep seeing posts about silco being manipulative to jinx #stop posting this shit #otherwise i will fight you to death #silco my beloved #silco appreciation post

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msmagicmane · 11 months

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“Brother” 2023 🎨

#silco #arcane #league of legends #vander #warwick #fanart #vanco #zaundads #digital art #wolf #hound #werewolf #death #love #brothers

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jaegerbroshoe · 6 months

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Okay but like Sevika waiting for Silco in his office after her last fight with Vi? Not knowing he’s never gonna show up because he’s dead? 😭

#arcane #sevika #silco #my opinion #the camera even pans to his empty chair #hits me right in the feels 😔#I wonder what her reaction to his death will be #she already had issues with jinx so I wonder if this will turn her completely against her #cause she knew how much jinx meant to silco so her being responsible for his death would probably really upset her #also given the whole loyalty thing; she did choose to stick with silco till the end #cause really she was willing to keep her trust in him even though he was slipping because of paternity just like vander #anyways my point is I think his death will affect her #unlike vander’s #probably cause she was actually involved with silco for years #vander kinda just imposed his own decisions on the lanes #so she wasn’t really involved with him

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eternalwanderer-stories · 2 months

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creators: here is a charismatic character who, due to certain circumstances, becomes an anti-hero and a very influential person in the criminal world, whose actions are explained in the context of the general setting, who calmly gets his hands in blood, but at the same time you can understand why he became like that and in general is not without tragedy

me: sounds great, but it’s still not a fact that I’ll love him, any more arguments?

creators: he is a loving father

me: fuck, I'll take it

#dramatic breakup with your ex as a bonus #and death in the end of course #yes that's definitely my type #not only Silco and Geto these two are just living in my head now #criminal fathers and their beloved daughters #they quickly finish their criminal cases in order to be on time for parents' day at school for their child #these hands are meant to hold weapons and braid hair #silco #jinx #arcane #geto suguru #mimiko and nanako #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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zaunite-electrical · 11 months

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[[ I edited this one because I couldn't tell what it was in the glare from the sun on the car and now I want to go back to before I brightened it up ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡ ]]

#arcane #arcane edit #silco arcane #silco #arcane silco #arcane screenshots #//let there be light//#tw: character death

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zkyfall · 1 year

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Me to myself after looking at Scrooge gifs all afternoon: be cool, don’t ship characters you don’t know from a movie you haven't seen just cause they’re hot

Me five minute later: draws this

if this isn’t what a christmas carol is actually about, I'm sorry lol

#scrooge #scrooge a christmas carol #if we're not supposed to ship people with death why did they make death a sexy monster huh #dorito looking motherfucker #actually what is his character name?#the ghost of christmas yet to come or some shit #is anyone in this fandom?#does scrooge fandom exist??#not ready to move on from arcane tho so just gonna write scrooge silco now

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ravenkinnie · 1 year

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my #1 pet peeve is def jinx being woobified to purely an unaware victim of everything, she DID know that. first of all, all of the lanes know silco is the one who killed vander, finn says so himself but also jinx herself says "this is where he stabbed vander in the back" which i mean. metaphorically I guess but he also literally did do that. second of all, jinx sees herself as equal to silco and vice versa because of all the violence on top of their abandonment/betrayal trauma, like one of her diary entries is "he is broken/just like me" - she knows what person silco is and silco never pretends to be anything different to anyone really, but there's comfort in knowing her monstrous side is safe with someone who nurtures and understands it

#she does feel guilt for vanders death but like she can feel guilt and still know silcos involvement #trauma doesnt have to be logical #jinx #silco and jinx

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lullabyes22-blog · 8 months

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Snippet - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - The Siege

Silco remembers the war between Zaun and Piltover...

tw: violence, bloodshed, mentions of rape, aftermath of war, PTSD

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

“The Siege,” Jinx whispers.

The Siege.

That's what they call the partition—belowground and above. An incursion of monsters, but as with everything else, the definition of monster differed depending on which side of the river one's blood flowed. In Zaun, it meant the Enforcers. To Topside, it meant the entire Undercity populace. The war was a warped mirror; the inevitable endpoint of decades of resentment and repression.

Silco remembers the losses suffered, and the dead left behind. Their neon city a pitch-black hellhole. The crack of gunfire and high-pitched wails. The humid air beating down on them like a superheated fist; every breath dragged as if through bloodstained cloth.

The Last Drop was blown sky-high. With it, so many of Vander's hopes, and the heart of his lie. A principally foolish and persistently shortsighted lie: peace between the cities.

Peace was never in Zaun's stars.

The only bright point shone through the dark. The embers of Piltover burning.

The final night was spent in a game of deuces with the Enforcers. Zaun's last stand: a desperate gamble against the odds. Their enemy was equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry. They outnumbered the Fissurefolk ten-to-one. Their ranks were lethal and their bullets endless.

Their mistake was hubris. Topsiders had never fought for their own freedom. Why would they? They had it already, in full measure. But the Fissurefolk? They'd never known the comfort of choice. When you've got nothing left to lose, everything's a chip to bet. Every breath is a fight to the death.

Five hundred Enforcers descended into the Undercity. Only twenty-three returned home.

Silco had devised a strategy off-the-cuff. No time to weigh the pros and cons, or schedule a war-council with the chem-barons. Most had fled to their strongholds. The rest were too busy pillaging. It fell on Silco to act, and he had done it on his own terms. He'd chosen those with the most to lose from Piltover's reign. Ballbusters and bruisers; mercenaries and miscreants; chem-fiends and chemists. A motely crew, each with their own agenda. But none who could be bribed with coin or cowed by bullets.

They loved the city too fiercely. Loved it with a rage that ran so deep the only answer was freedom.

Or death.

When the Enforcers stormed, they were ready.

"Don't meet them head-on," Silco ordered. "Lure them down.”

Down—where centuries of gallows fodder had hid from the law. Down—where every backstreet had bred sinners and spawned killers. Down—where every crevice was a chokepoint and every corridor a death-trap.

Down—where life was a war waged by inches.

Silco knew the terrain like the black hollow of his heart. In boyhood, he'd negotiated every cobblestone with intimate ease. As a man, he and Vander had made the back-alleys their own, long before they'd claimed the Lanes. The festering warrens deepened into a sinuous complexity that presaged threats at every turn.

The Enforcers had the firepower, but no experience. They'd been taught to take prisoners. They'd never learned to chase shadows.

"Give 'em a taste of home," Silco said, and led the way.

Into the slithering dark, he and the crew descended. Sentries were stationed along the canals; shadowrunners between the bridges. Jinx stayed by his side. The others scattered through the alleys. The Enforcers were stubborn—but their strength was not without limits. A fortnight of hard-hitting combat was wearing them down. The disorienting labyrinths left them vulnerable to paranoia. The fumes from the chemical sludge became a miasma.

By midnight, they'd gone from towering titans to terrified mice.

Jinx took the initiative. With the crew's help, she rigged the drain valves with bombs. She didn't have the resources for a big blast; not after the destruction of Piltover's cityscape. She'd had to get creative. With canisters of compressed gas, she'd flooded the streets with pressurized sewage. It was a fatal, fast-moving tide; the Enforcers were left with no choice but to retreat into Zaun's guts or face a no-man's land of filth.

Straight into Jinx's trap.

One Enforcer's footstep triggered the pressure plate. A gas of hallucinogenic potency spewed out. It had each man turning on the other in a frenzy of gunfire and screams.

Sevika and crew took aim, ready to take the rest out at close range.

Silco stopped them.

"Let them bleed out," he said. "Save our ammo."

A second squad of Enforcers rolled in. They charged headlong into a Jinx's playground of razor snares and spring-loaded incendiaries. The explosions lit up the streets. The shrapnel sliced open their ranks. They fell shrieking to the gods for mercy.

Mercy was a foreign language belowground.

"Steel yourselves," Silco ordered the crew. "Their reinforcements will be prepared."

The prediction was dead-on.

In the hours after midnight, the two cities reeled. The Enforcers were dazed and drained. But they knew their mission, and followed it doggedly. When the third wave came, they were equipped with body-armor and respirators. They took shelter behind reinforced barricades, and penetrated the dark with night-vision goggles.

In the ruins of Factorywood, they cornered Silco's squad.

It wasn't a melee—but a massacre. The Fissurefolk knew the territory, but the Enforcers were locked and loaded. With a barrage of gunblasts, they sent Silco's men toppling. While the survivors regrouped, they began a relentless advance. The whistling scream of bullets and the liquid pop of blood vessels became a symphony. The streets ran black with gore.

Silco had to make a snap decision. Retreat or engage?

In his ear, Vander's voice:

"Kill me, if you must. But spare the Lanes."

At the forefront, the battle raged. At the sidelines, the corpses piled up. At his crux, the choice was simple.

Silco thought: You died for our cause, brother.

I'll fight for it.

Sevika's hand fell on his shoulder. She urged, "They're closing in. We need to fall back."

"No."

"Sir—"

Silco's mismatched eyes scoured the flaming skyline. He spied the Old Hungry, the first spot Vander had ever showed him. He saw its smoking turrets and pockmarked walls. He saw the gutted factories and charred canals. He saw the smoldering husks of abandoned homes. He saw the wreckage of his people's lives, and felt the ache of their loss.

He stared at the blackened vistas of his savaged city, and knew: Vander had always meant to protect it.

To the last breath.

So did he.

"No," he repeated, and met Sevika's shocked stare. "No retreat. We box them in the sewers. Then we go all in. We fight with everything we have."

"Silco—"

"We end this, Sevika," he said, and his voice didn't come from inside his chest. It webbed up from someplace deeper still, down below the cracked foundations of his psyche. It was a place of endless hunger, unyielding rage; an impregnable nucleus of self. "No more games. No one—nothing—is coming for Zaun again. We take the fight to the bastards, and we burn them out."

Sevika's expression shifted from shock to steel.

He would never forget the look. It burned through him; bit deep into his gut. It was the look of a soldier saluting her flag; a Valkyrie summoning her chariot; a priestess kneeling to her god. It was the look that said: I will follow you to hell, and make it a home fit for us both.

A vow as binding as blood.

There was a salvo of intensifying gunfire. Shrapnel spangled off the cobblestones. There were screams and the choking stench of gunsmoke. Silco dared a look over Sevika's shoulder. He saw two of their number dead—the twins, Zoked and SzSza—their faces the same pallor as the soot hazing the foul air.

Sevika's hand squeezed his shoulder, then fell away.

She said: "I'll hold the line."

"Hold it tight. No quarter—"

"—No mercy." She smiled, a slash of teeth. "You've got ten minutes, sir."

"I've got a lifetime." A heartbeat, his eyes on hers. "Go."

Sevika went.

The troops fell in behind her, the whole company a solid wedge. She led them out. The Enforcers took one look and opened fire, their bullets blitzing. It didn't matter. The Fissurefolk held formation. Sevika's orders rang strong and cold. They'd trained under her, and would lay their lives at her feet.

Silco saw the brief radiance of Sevika's mechanical arm firing up. The blade jutted like a lance. Charging, she cut an arc of whizzing metal through the bodies. The noise of gunfire gave way to a riot of screams. More Enforcers pressed in. Their shields were a bristling wall, but Sevika kept coming. Her body was a juggernaut, a battering ram, a dragon's claw. She tore the barricade in half, sending the Enforcers reeling. They opened up a lethal crossfire, but she didn’t stop. Her prosthetic arm was a meat-shredder. Every swipe opened up a torso or a throat.

Every blow was a testament.

To Zaun.

To Nandi.

To him.

Silco understood. She was ready to die for the cause—and be done with it. There was no one else left to command; he was the last line of defense. Him and whoever was left of the holdout. The street was a riven map of bodies. So many dead, their number beyond counting.

Silco counted the survivors: twenty-three.

Twenty-three against an Enforcer's squad of fifty.

Eighteen more would die before the dawn. But not before they wiped their enemies out of existence.

Silco shouted: "Down-low!"

It was the signal.

Six of the survivors closed ranks in the narrow streets, holding off the assault as best they could. The rest followed Silco through the tar-slick warrens. A volley of bullets ricocheted off the stone walls; a flare went whizzing overhead. The fetid murk of the Sumps had never smelled so sweet.

"Fuck!" Lock shouted.

A distant explosion swelled across the rooftops. In the shower of flaming wreckage, Silco turned to glimpse Sevika. Her left was arm was a mangled twist. She'd caught the tail-end of a rocket-launcher blast. A starburst of blood hit the wall. She staggered in a daze; her mouth shaping unsayable words.

Then she vanished. A ripple of smoke spread like a shockwave.

"Fuck," Lock said again, more raggedly.

Silco wanted like blazes to turn back. But that wasn't his and Sevika’s bargain. She'd bought him ten minutes, not a lifetime. The deal was to go all in. They were out of options.

There was no turning back now. No running.

Silco let the image of Sevika burn itself into his retinas. His pulse didn't race. His breath didn't quicken. There was only a blackness of rage, spiking into a knife of pure white-hot focus that scalded his hairline down to his nerve endings.

He made a vow, then and there.

He would not fall. Not while he had blood left to shed and lives left to save.

Not while he had Jinx.

They crashed through the gritty underbrush and into Zaun's sewers. The muck sucked at their boots. The atmosphere reeked of decay. The city's bowels were a subterranean labyrinth of wormholes and dead ends. A haven of nocturnal low-lives; a last resort against Piltover's rule.

The ultimate death-trap

Silco kept a breakneck pace, navigating the complex with unerring instinct. It had been nearly a decade since he'd set foot in these corridors. But his memory spat out the layout, and his body knew the way. The tunnel branched, forked, doubled back. His crew kept in formation, their boots like a drumroll behind him. They cleared each intersection with brute efficiency. No matter how fast the Enforcers chased them, Silco knew they couldn't keep up.

Not without losing a man—or three.

The tunnels narrowed into a chokepoint of interlocking grates. Silco's hand slid across the slime-slicked wall until he reached a rusted panel. The concealed hatch yielded with a shriek. He thrust his torso through a gap and found his way down a rusted ladder. His feet hit a submerged floor. Within moments, the rest of the crew were gathered in a low-ceilinged chamber.

It was a storage depot. The air stank of purifying chemicals. Steel barrels lined the walls; rubber drums piled up in the center. Silco kicked one open. Dust spurted, and with it the bite of gun-oil. Inside was a cache of weapons. They were the same design used by the Enforcers: top-of-the-line, and packed with a payload. Enough to level a city, or lay waste to a battalion.

The crew's shock was audible. "Holy shit!"— "You gotta be kidding me!"— "Where'd all this come from?"

"A last resort," Silco said succinctly, and lifted the lid off another barrel. There was a stash of grenades. His smile spread like blood in the darkness. "We'll bury them alive."

He snapped orders and the crew leapt. The explosives were prepped and primed. The trap was laid. They set up along the tunnel’s mouth. Dustin took point. Lock and Ran guarded the rear. The rest were to act as a cordon along the walls.

And Jinx—

She was to his left, just like always. Fishbones was slung across her back; Puff-Puff was holstered at her thigh. A belt of grenades encircled her hips. Her arm cradled Pow-Pow with a casual alignment of weight, like a child in the crook of her elbow.

His child—a wisp of a creature—with enough firepower to destroy a nation.

Yet the worst wreckage was her eyes.

"Jinx."

Silco beckoned, his voice soft as a slit throat.

Soundless, she came. Her eyes held a fritzed-out blankness. She was Jinx times ten—and yet she was almost gone, all the animation drained out of her. The past days had pushed her psyche past the boundary of human endurance. There was a vacuum inside her now: the space Silco ought to have filled with love—and hadn't.

He'd failed.

Failed as a father. Failed as a leader. Failed as a man.

He was a black-hearted monster who'd built an empire on blood and drugs. He'd cast away Vander for a knife to the gut; he'd forsaken Nandi's goodness for a last-ditch gamble. He'd sent his precious girl off to die without a thought; now he wasn't certain he could summon her back to life. In one night, he'd managed to ruin himself, and his city, and the one person he would kill for.

The universe, in its cruelty, had sent Jinx to save him.

Silco cradled Jinx's face in both hands. The brokenness of her eyes pierced him to the bone.

"Jinx," he said, "You've done well. You've done so well tonight."

Jinx stared. Her irises glowed like sickly phosphorescence.

"You've kept us alive," he said, more urgently. "Now you must hold on."

A quiver of breath. "Hold..."

Silco fought down the tide of self-loathing and forced himself to keep speaking. "Hold on to yourself, Jinx. Stay with us. The fight isn't done."

Jinx stared blindishly.

"Please, Jinx. We need you."

The words throbbed: hollow, desperate, true.

Jinx stayed silent.

"I need you!” Silco barked, a brutal whiplash of command. "Now, Jinx. Hold on to yourself—as I hold on to you. I will keep you alive, even if I have to burn their whole damn city for it."

The silence stretched on.

Then—

Jinx shivered.

The fizzle in her eyes faded. She pressed the heels of her palms to the swollen lids and rubbed. When her lashes lifted, the brightness was all the brighter. It was like a magic trick. In a trice, she was there: his wild child, his weapon; his wonder. She focused on him with such intensity, it felt as though his skull might fracture under the impact.

Her lips shaped secret syllables. Silco could barely hear them over the choking silence.

"Say again, child?"

"Show them," Jinx breathed.

"What?"

Her eyes gleamed.

"We'll show ‘em," she said. "We'll show 'em all."

Silco nodded. His palms skated up the sides of Jinx's neck, a tender strangulation. Leaning in, he kissed her forehead. Then he let go.

"All in," he said.

"All in," Jinx repeated, and he knew she understood.

At their backs, the thud of boots.

"Bossman!" Ran hissed. "They're coming! They're fucking coming!"

No time for delay. The surviving Enforcers were forty-two strong, and no fools. They'd follow Silco's straight into the depths, until they could call it a victory. They were tenacious, tireless, but they had no idea who they were facing.

Silco was counting on it.

He ordered, "Bite the bullet."

In their network's parlance: Go hard. Go fast. Go out with a bang.

Tonight, there was no better motto.

The Enforcers' footsteps thudded. Closer. Closer. Silco gave the signal, and the crew went on the offensive. A canister of colorless gas spewed across the floor. In the gloom, a flash-bang. The smoky air was interrupted with sparks. Silco and the crew kept their heads down, their aim high. They wore goggles and had sealed their mouths with respirators. It was enough to keep their vision safe and their lungs unclogged.

The Enforcers were not so fortunate. They tore off their helmets, eyes throbbing from the flashbang—and began to choke. The gas was from the mines: a caustic chemical that burned their throats. They stumbled into the dark, and met their deaths at the business ends of his crew's barrels. They emptied clip after clip, the recoil jolting their arms, their hearts like hammers in their chests.

The tunnel morphed from a war-zone to a blood-red hell.

The survivors were disoriented but determined. Blindly, they charged. The crew's reflexes reverted to close-quarters combat. Blades whipped out, and the Enforcers were taken by the throat and the gut. The fight devolved into a brawl, the sound of metal and meat a ghastly concerto.

An Enforcer swung the barrel of his rifle. Its butt nailed Dustin in the gut. He went down, gasping. The Enforcer aimed his firearm. Then his head exploded. His corpse slumped. Behind him stood Jinx, the muzzle of her gun smoking.

A shriek came from the left. Ran went down, a knife stuck in the arm. The Enforcer drew a pistol. Silco was quicker. His palm gripped the bone handle of Vander's bowie knife like a lover's throat. Soundlessly, he crept up behind the Enforcer. The blade went in like a kiss, deep into the man's jugular.

The Enforcer gurgled; his pistol dropped. Silco's boot slammed into his back. The Enforcer toppled. Silco followed, and the knife went in, and out, and in. The man thrashed, his last words a plea. Silco twisted the blade. He didn't bother with the mercy of a quick reply.

In the background, the Enforcer's comrade charged, and died screaming. A scythelike swipe of metal took his legs off, and sent him spinning like a child's doll. Sevika rose out of the haze. Her prosthetic arm was a fritzing exoskeleton—but her blade was intact. Her hair was charred against her skull and her silhouette bloodsplattered.

She didn't look human anymore. She was the dragon in the flesh: a thing made of rage and fire and steel.

A third Enforcer lunged at her blind-spot. Silco pivoted, and whipped out his boot knife. He threw it. It spun in a whirling blur, then buried itself hilt-deep in the man's left eye-socket. He slumped.

Sevika's eyes caught his. A nod was traded between them; a debt owed and paid.

Then their attention went to the carnage.

To the hunt.

The Enforcers were down to sixteen. Silco's own crew were reduced to the same number. They'd done their job: a suicide mission turned triumph. Now it was a matter of finishing the fight.

Silco gave the final order: "To the Bridge!"

It was the home-stretch. It was also the greatest risk. They'd never had time to run drills, and Silco had never wanted to test their mettle in a live-fire scenario. But their survival depended on it. If more Enforcers charged belowground, the fight was over. Their city was lost. Their freedom, forfeit.

They could not stay in the Sumps any longer. They had to go above.

"Jinx," Silco shouted. "It's time!"

Jinx nodded. Fishbones was slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were a smoldering pink, and her mouth was set. She was a small, vicious thing, armed and ready.

And she was his.

Together, they sprinted. Up through the subterranean tunnels. Up through the stinking dark. Up towards the light.

The battle was not done. But it would be, soon. They had the upper hand. They had the Hex-gem. And they had the element of surprise. Piltover hadn't anticipated the Trencher's’ zeal. Now they would learn the full truth: that a cornered beast will bite and bite hard.

Silco would do the biting. He'd sink his teeth in, and twist, and tear until he tasted blood.

And he would savor every drop.

At his side, Jinx was a bright streak. Her eyes shone. She was the broken girl he'd plucked from the streets: the comet who'd saved his life.

Now she'd save their city.

At Bridgeside, there was an oncoming wave. A troop of Enforcers. They were the vanguard, and Silco's crew would have to fight tooth and nail.

So they did.

In the heart of the firestorm, Silco took the helm. Sevika was his right hand. They were two beasts of war, their teeth bared and their claws out. Every inch was suffering; every breath was a challenge. There were bullets and blades, screams and smoke. Silco's mind was caught in a mesh of razor-wire. His hands were a blur, the knife an extension of his arm, the pistol an extra digit. He didn't know how many Enforcers he killed. Only that they'd fallen, and kept falling.

His crew fell too. He saw Thieram's head blown off his shoulders. He saw Cath, slumped over in a pool of entrails. He saw Ran dragged into an alleyway by three Enforcers. He heard the shred of cloth and the crack of bones. Ran's screams rang out, a high-pitched wail of violation.

The others fell to the sludge in the aftermath, their eyes staring blindly.

And Jinx—Jinx was a blur. Pow-Pow and Puff-Puff were her wings. Fishbones was her trumpet. She cut a path through the swarm, a gloriole of destruction.

In the final surge, the Enforcers were taken apart. Silco and Sevika became the butchers. Jinx was the killing-blow. With a scream that resonated to the rooftops, she unleashed her arsenal. Fishbones's rocket sailed. The Bridge exploded, a chain reaction that rippled down its length. The night was ablaze; a perfect blue inferno.

She painted Piltover with magic and doused it with blood.

She saved them all.

She saved them, but victory came at a steep cost. War is like that. It sinks inside you, under your skin, into your lungs, rooting itself in the mind and soul. You must surrender something of yourself as a matter of brute survival—or perish. In the aftermath, there was no jubilation. Only the sun rising on a city laid waste, and a long march down the path to progress.

His squad were reduced to five. Each one was in rough shape. Sevika had gone into shock from the blowback on her left arm, bronze skin turning ashen, her dark eyes glazed beyond the sphere of pain. Ran huddled under the blanket, bare-skinned and slicked to the elbows with blood, features distorted with agony. Dustin lay pin-cushioned with morphine syrettes, a twitchy pup yelping for rescue. Lock stayed standing, but he resembled something badly-chewed: ragged with wounds and missing whole layers of himself.

Jinx, meanwhile, crouched in the shadows. She'd kept pushing bullets into Pow-Pow's chamber, then emptying them out. Over and over, with no real sense of purpose, as if they were memories she was trying to jam inside and then blast out for good. Her eyes were huge, pupils ringed in luminous pink. Tears streaked her cheeks like war-paint.

Silco stood in their midst, a crooked silhouette plastered with blood. His fingers clenched and unclenched on Vander's knife. Everything will be fine, he could have said with a slickster's ease. A lie, but the dogs of war were fed by lies. The machines of progress were fueled by them.

He could have lied, out of necessity, or cruelty, or mercy.

He hadn't.

Words failed to take the night down to scale. It was too big, too bloody. It was freedom, and the past, and the future.

It was Zaun.

By dawn, they'd picked their way to a safehouse in Entresol. Bodies everywhere on the street. Slabs of spoiling meat. The ones still groaning, he'd ordered dragged to the temporary shelters. The rest, they'd left where they lay. The time for cremation wouldn't be for weeks yet. By then, most corpses would be unrecognizable.

Inside, Singed was waiting with medical supplies. Together, they'd tended to the wounded who trickled slowly in, patching up bullet holes and setting broken limbs. In the end, few survived perfectly unscathed. Some lapsed into comas that they never awoke from. Others died in a rictus of anguished screams. The lucky ones went silently, slipping into death's embrace with a sigh.

It was near sunset by the time Silco slept. By then, the light in the safehouse was an eerie twilit green, just enough to make out the bodies of his crew rolled in threadbare sleeping bags: Lock an unmoving mass, Dustin sprawled on onto his back in a jittery sprawl of limbs, an arm flung out, knuckles nearly touching Ran’s hair, peeking in tufts from the fabric, the rest of their body enfolded. Silco found himself in the corner, apart from the others but close enough that if someone went into Shimmer convulsions, he'd be at hand to stabilize them.

Across from him, Sevika lay sprawled on her side, eyes shut. Her good hand lay stretched out, in the weak halo of the candle. Silco had stared at it. For a moment he'd wanted to take her hand in his, all rough and bruised. Nothing else. Just take her hand. The war had reminded him that there were facets to his life that he couldn't keep by the wayside forever.

Desires that had nothing to do with Zaun.

He hadn't touched her. The candleflame was flickering, and they couldn't waste it. He'd licked a fingertip and pinched it out. And in the dark, he'd rolled, fitting his chin to the hard curve of Jinx's skull. His child lay nestled close. Dead to the world; her scent salty from weeping. Tears still seeped from under her sleeping eyelids.

He wanted to sleep too. But the safehouse was full of specters. Vander. Nandi. Lika. Benzo. His knife lay close at hand, the blade clean. He'd stared at it, and vowed that Topside would never be forgiven.

The night never forgotten.

#arcane league of legends #arcane #arcane silco #silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane jinx #jinx #silco and jinx #silco x sevika #sevilco #arcane ran #arcane lock #arcane dustin #tw: rape #tw: violence #tw: death

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found-family-tournament · 8 months

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Found Family Tournament Round 2 Part 8 Group 36

Propaganda and further images under the cut

Silco & Jinx:

Sorry, I got no propaganda for them yet :(

Watari & L:

Sorry, I got no propaganda for them yet :(

#tumblr polls #poll #polls #tournament poll #found family #found family tournament 2023 #tumblr tournament #tournament #Arcane #Silco #Jinx #Death Note #Watari #L

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kikiiswashere · 1 year

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Hey. I know I don’t have a lot of followers on here. And I know I haven’t been super active lately. Life has been really topsy-turvy as of late 😮‍💨

Hopefully I’ll be more engaged in the coming weeks - I have lots of drawing and writing drabbles swirling around my noggin ✍️🎨

In the meantime:

LOOK AT THIS. HOW COULD THEY MAKE HIM LOOK LIKE THAT AND NOT EXPECT US TO GET EMBARRASSINGLY FERAL???

#Silco #arcane #arcane shitpost #shitpost #personal #I’m nearing my own year anniversary with arcane #and this rat man still has me in a death grip #thanks for coming to my Ted talk

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klorophile · 9 months

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On death and life, more specifically suicide, Piltover VS Zaun

[TW: for death and suicide, obviously] There are differences between Piltover and the Undercity, in their culture and way of life, that are so big that they can’t just remain only one city—they’re two cities, and they basically all but don’t speak the same language, and share even less the same laws and morals even before "the Undercity" would become "Zaun".

They don’t see what it is "to live" the same way. Note: this is not about one being right and the other wrong, it’s about observing.

The way I see it, Zaun is more animalistic. "To live" is to survive. It’s survival first and foremost, survival at any cost: first you live, and then you see what you do, but you have be alive to do anything. You have to be alive to be free and live your freedom; and even if you are not free right now, it’s only by keeping on living that you can get to it. Living is everything. You are when you live. To be = to live. I haven’t actually looked at where the name "Zaun" comes from canonically, probably the German for "fence" I guess, but to me I can’t help but think that it comes from the greek ζωή (zoe) for life, and the word "fauna" from the latin gods of earth and fertility and forests etc Fauna and Faunus that we use to talk about the animal life. So Zaun would be the city of "living animals that are alive".—Let’s not be scared of repetition, it’s Zaun! (Note: this etymology would be meta, no in-universe, it’s how it will mean something to the spectators, not the characters.)

Piltover is more refined. It’s less about needs (the needs are met in Piltover, they aren’t as easily in Zaun) and more about wants. It’s the city of progress, and it aims to be always more beautiful and successful, than itself and than other cities. Piltover is all about being "more". In a way it’s less instinctual than Zaun. The architecture aims to be impressive and also identifiable: there is a standardization in it, where in Zaun you find art more as a need for individuals to express something through it. For the etymology, I guess it would be simply "over the Pilt", but what I hear, again as a spectator and not as someone living in this universe, is "built over"—over what? well, over the Undercity, over itself, over everything, and more importantly over what makes us animals and beasts and into what makes us human, because that is what progress is. It's "built over" because Piltovans don't simply live, the build themselves, an identity. In Piltover, to be is not enough, life wouldn’t be worth it with just that. To live = to be someone.

In clear, Piltover is all about being someone respectable: someone that has a moral code and follows it, someone who makes discoveries push humanity into flourishing, someone who helps the city, someone that their parents would be proud of and anyone would accept as a honorable human being. Zaun is all about existing at any cost: the end justifies the means, everything changes constantly and following laws and rules is not important when it can prevent you from following your own path and becoming who you are. Go with the flow, be the flow.

Now that we have those two mentalities, we can also say that the show loves to push its characters to their limits… And it’s very interesting to see how they will all react in their crisis, but what might be even more interesting is to understand what are each characters limits? When do any one of them stop being themselves? When do you lose yourself?? What must happen for each character to feel like they can’t be the person they are anymore, to feel like they can’t live anymore, and reach the conclusion that death is preferable. …So I guess: Who do they think they are? What I want to put into light here is how this question in answered very differently for a character who is from Piltover and for a character who is from the Undercity/Zaun.

As a Jinx fan, if we talk about a suicide attempt in Arcane I will immediately think about her letting a chomper go off right next to herself after her fight against Ekko on the bridge. Yes, but there is another suicide attempt we see a lot earlier in the show, and it’s Jayce’s. The feeling is the same, "I can’t continue", but their situation is very different. Jayce is very clean. He leaves a letter, there is his bracelet that started his dreams and hopes for the future on it, he’s well dressed and the white of his jacket contrasts against the shambles of his lab and the night, and this happens after a decision was taken with a vote at a trial. The law decided he couldn’t science anymore, Jayce can’t see himself being anyone else than a science dude that finds a way to control magic of anything, so he prefers death. He could still live and laugh, he still had his mother and a home, he still had money, he still had skills that could give him a role in society, but he esteemed that none of this was enough for Jayce to be Jayce. His standards are pretty high: he will follow his dream or nothing. In a way, his attempt makes his character look disturbingly impressive, because he still had so much for himself, but he considered it not enough for him to be himself. He’s the golden boy, but that’s also because he refused to be anything else.

I think it’s very interesting to compare him to Silco. Silco makes no apology. He does not accept people judging him and deciding what he can’t be (free! powerful!). He was betrayed by his own brother when they no longer saw their cause the same way, he fought for his life when he was being drowned by stealing a knife he didn’t have, he survived an infection to his eye, he found new followers, he made his way to the top, even if he had to kill and poison for that. As he says, he died, yes, but he was reborn. He refused to be erased and found a way to live still by reinventing himself, like a butterfly (Jayce did put his hands in the air like butterfly wings but this butterfly was going to go swoosh-flop, you need the cocoon phase first Jayce). I think it’s very interesting to note how Jayce and Silco are different, especially when you think about the scene where they meet to negotiate. Here is a man with the higher standards and here is another capable of the lowest blows, and they will try to reach an agreement…

We can also compare Jayce to Vi. Vi loses her whole family in front of her eyes, carries the guilt of having left her little sister behind, gets imprisoned for who knows how long, remains in hell for years… and she’s still standing and fighting. Maybe what she has is not hope per se, but there is something still pushing her. A zaunite light, one that refuses to be extinguished. Same for Ekko. He is only a little kid when when see him lose everything, and next time he appears, he has founded a strong community around a tree that can’t possibly grow in Zaun but has grown in Zaun and they are the resistance about what is poisoning their city. He is the same as Silco, he reinvented himself, though not on the same bases. When you lose everything, you build something else. Same for Powder. She causes the death of her family and gets rejected by her own sister, and when she is about to be stabbed, well she decides that the person with the knife will now care about her and fucking actually causes him to care about of all things. How? Because Zaunites survive, always, like the ivy leaves going around Singed’s lab, Singed who has to cover himself in bandages but hasn’t stopped what he was doing before this accident.

Like Singed who decided his axolotl was going to live no matter what, even if it has to stay in a tube. Like Silco who decided Jinx could not die, even if she had to become inhuman for it.

Piltover people have an idea of what their life can and cannot be. For Jayce, he has to be a part of progress, or his life doesn’t have enough quality for him to live it. We can also see it in Caitlyn, though she hasn’t been pushed to her limits (yet?), in the way she says "shit" in front of her parents because she has decided that she was going to be an enforcer and even go as far as defending the Undercity even if it is against what she was taught. She calls herself a "misfit" because she knows what she is and what she isn’t. Zaunite people just need to survive. It’s almost as if that instinct to resist is stronger than them… They can be dragged through hell, but they will find a way to get back up and continue living. They will find a solution, even if a limb or a brother has to be left behind.

Viktor is also really interesting in regard to that because he is from the Undercity but lives in Piltover, and he has a Piltovan moment before acting more like a Zaun guy. After he accidentally causes Sky’s death, he goes to scatter her ashes, and almost follows them down there. He then states to Jayce that they lost themselves because "in the pursuit of great they failed to do good". So this is his piltovan limit: failing to do good, doing bad. Very different from Silco who doesn’t shy from bad to reach great. Viktor has morals, and feels like if he steps over them, he can’t live with himself. It is interesting to not that when he is on the edge, it’s on a window with the shape of the Piltover crest…

…but with some kind of ivy on the right, reminder of Zaun and its survival at all costs. Because in this moment Viktor is rapidly dying. And I feel like this how he shows that he is a Zaunite at core: in the end, he turns to Singed. And if we watch who he is in League of Legends, he is not that scared to lose himself anymore, at the very least not his body. He responds to the ivy call, the ivy mostly in the shadow but with tendrils like hands not that scared from stepping into the light.

And then there is Jinx letting a bomb go off almost in her hand. Something I find shocking in what she does is how not Zaunite this is. We see Silco, Vi, Ekko, and even Powder herself, go through so much and still get up like there is nothing that could destroy them completely, but at this moment we see Jinx reaching a point of no return… A Zaunite, previously defined as a "living living animal" say "that's it, I’ve got enough" and I think that that’s a really heartbreaking moment when you think about how there is so much she can and already has survived, and there is finally too much.

Silco’s death is also very tragic in that regard, and I use "tragic" in the sense of a classic tragedy like Racine would write. We show that Silco does not want to die: when there is this doubt about who Sevika will choose and who she will kill between Silco and Finn, he’s not that confortable. He doesn’t want to be done. And as much as an in control villain he likes to look, he still has that instinct when in danger that makes him scared in close contact to his potential demise.

But when Jinx shots him? He accepts. He tells her not to feel guilty… even when we just saw how he very much minded staying alive. He could have been angry, he could have tried to still remain standing even with bullets in his body, but he did not. Why? Because he had reached his ultimate cul-de-sac too. He was the father of Zaun and the father of Jinx, and here the both couldn’t coexist. It was a choice he couldn’t make, because stopping for Zaun here would mean he was as weak as Vander, which could mean that killing him was a mistake since they were more of the same mind that he thought in the end, which could also mean that Sevika and other people following him would stop following him since he was not strong enough to seize their independence when given the occasion, but taking the opportunity would mean sacrificing his Jinx, and would his life be livable without her? But could he survive betraying Zaun? No to both. I am sure that hadn’t he be shot, he would have kept fighting. But he was, and there was no way he could be angry at Jinx for having the Zaunite instinct to shoot to survive.

PS: I’m not talking about Noxus here, but I guess Mel’s way would be "if you’re not letting me live like me here in Noxus, I guess I’ll live like me but somewhere else so that me can stay me and Noxus can stay Noxus."

PPS: Watching them crumble is fascinating ;u;

#that's my type #scratch that (as in write it down please)#character analysis #Arcane #Piltover #Zaun #Jinx #Silco #Jayce #Viktor #Vi #Ekko #Caitlyn #Mel #death #suicide #oh the misery

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