#I have strange relationship with this game

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾.⠀( the base violence necessary for change , 9.3k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this third chapter, there's a lot going on. mentions of death, injuries, prostitution, blood, fights, and a brief suicidal thought at the end. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀third chapter out! i'm so sorry thta it took me another full day to post a new chapter. i haven't even watched act 3 yet because i lit have no time, but i managed to finish this. it is very sad. i'm sorry about that too. but next chapter will be slightly more relaxed, with less drama, i promise. happy sunday 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

It's hard to know what your last breath will be, but sometimes you can feel the moment lurking, like a shadow looming over you, icy and heavy. Crouched on that rooftop, the air had a strange edge to it, as if each breath cut inside. The mist rising from the streets scratched at your throat, but it wasn't just mist. It was the weight of the inevitable.

You paused, frowning, as the usual swaying of the wooden sign of Benzo's caused your gaze to wander towards the entrance of the shop. And before you could comprehend what was happening, the scream came as a jolt, tearing through the silence of the night. It was as if the sound pierced your skin, sinking into your flesh, clinging to your bones. The kind of scream you can't help but hear, a gasp ripped from a throat. A hopeless, desperate voice that forces you to imagine the pain behind it. One last breath, and a body slumped to the ground.

And then, you caught a glimpse of him. A blurred figure, moving with a ferocity that seemed unnatural, unloading a punch on another uniformed officer, the glare of his gaze utterly animalistic. You cowered over the edge of the building, struggling not to look away, and flinched at the brutality of the pounding. The Enforcers all looked the same, with the metal mask and the blue cap, but the creature that had attacked them was familiar. It seemed less human with every movement, a mass of disfigured flesh and purplish meandering veins, but the curve of its chin, the soft wave of its hair... you had been so close to its face that you had come to memorise it.

Deckard. You recognised the sharp turn of his movements, accentuated in that state. You had felt his violence in your own skin, you knew it. Altered into a violent beast, he still retained some of that cruel strength, no doubt hindered by the way his body had grown and deformed. You saw him ignore the authoritative warning of a third Enforcer, and approach her at superhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, the police collapsed at his feet, like a drunk by a tavern door. Her blood spilled down the wall of the tent, sloshing everywhere, and you followed it with your eyes as it slid between the stones, thick, after Deckard had torn her flesh to the bone.

The force of his attack hit you like a shot in your chest, and you clutched at the concrete beneath your hands as if you could somehow anchor yourself to the past. There was silence in the weathered street. You could only hear your ragged breathing, quickening under your skin, and Deckard's silent footsteps as he disappeared. Night had fallen on Zaun like a blanket on your bed, and you felt it on your shoulders, suffocating you. You looked down again, where the rickety bodies of the agents lay like broken dolls on the pavement, their stiff fingers still gripping their pistols, and you could faintly distinguish the movement of someone approaching them in the shadows.

Measuring his pace, as if calculating every step he took, a fourth Enforcer approached the bodies of the fallen agents, his service gun in his hand, and he hesitated. For a moment you wanted to say something to him, to warn him perhaps, that there was a beast loose in the darkness, tell him to run away while he could, but a movement in the dusk stopped you. He was not alone. Behind him, shoulder to shoulder at the entrance to the shop, two frozen figures watched the scene. You felt a knot in your chest as you recognised them: Vander and Benzo. Their stances looked sharp, like a taut bow about to shoot an arrow, ready to defend themselves if necessary.

You leaned forward, caught between the urge to descend and the helplessness of knowing you could do nothing from up there, but something stopped you. You saw something dancing in the fog, the soft walk of a distorted silhouette slowly approaching from the other side of the street. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, a shiver that was not only cold, but that also contained more than just that, the fear locked in your ribcage, rising up to feel it pulsing in your throat.

And then, the glow of embers in the night: a kaleidoscope of shadows and flames, pierced by a scar, so different from its twin that they looked like the eyes of two different people. The face, sharp, pale, and an imperturbable pace, so sure of himself that the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

‘Silco?’ Benzo, hesitant, confused at first, turned rabid as he brandished the old silver candlestick in the direction of the unknown man. ‘You animal,’ he said, coming closer, stumbling, ’go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of.’

You couldn't see the venomous smile that tugged at Silco's thin lips, but you did hear the desperate tone torn from Vander's throat as he raised his hands towards his friend, cuffed, useless, trying to prevent the inevitable, ‘Benzo, stay back!’

‘You never did know when to walk away,’ Silco's voice, velvety, echoed down the street, emptying the silence, and your heart stopped inside your chest as Benzo tried to pounce on him.

The motion was too fast for the human eye. One instant, Benzo had raged forward, steadfast, defying the impassive man of mist. The next, Deckard's raw strength had brought Benzo down in a bundle of violet swirls, the body of the one who had cared for you since you were a child lying lifeless on the ground. The creaking of his bones echoed wet and dry at the same time, like tree branches snapping under too much weight, the blood surging beneath his shoulders, as if fleeing from the veins it was ceasing to flow through.

From the rooftop, it all seemed painfully distant. You brought a trembling hand to your mouth, a scream dying in your throat, watching Deckard keep his hand on Benzo's neck. His crooked fingers seemed to tingle from feeling the violence of death again, waiting, hovering over Benzo to check that he was gone, and you heard Vander's torn whimper, his legs buckling under his weight, under the weight of loss.

‘Stubborn to the end,’ muttered Silco, relishing each word with reverence.

But then the Enforcer left standing dropped his arms, defeated, betrayed, half-face covered by the mask they wore so as not to breathe Zaun's toxic air, and questioned Silco angrily, ‘What the hell have you done? This wasn't the deal!’

The echo of his words expanded, vibrating inside your head as if searching for a place to linger, and you stood still, watching from the shadows as that chilling scene unfolded, kneeling on the edge of the building, utterly overwhelmed.

‘Deal's changed.’

Silco's words reverberated on the cobblestone floor of the poorly lit street, ringing in your ears, as you tried to clear your mind. You took a breath of air, which cut, cold, down your throat, and looked down. You could still hear his voice, ominously calm and low, and the clink of coins clattering on the floor. A deal. Between the topside and the underground. You frowned, realising that there were no fire stairs on that front, and accentuated your frown as you tried to understand why someone from Zaun would want to ally himself with an Enforcer, of all people.

Before you could even try to slide down the wall, however, leaping from window to window as you had done in the past, you heard Deckard's heavy footsteps on the cobblestone floor, and you raised your head. He was slowly approaching Vander, with no sign of a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop, letting out a low growl as the beast finally took up a position in front of him. His arm swung once like the pendulum of an old clock, and the punch blew against Vander's face with a low, muffled thud, causing him to stagger under its weight.

Your throat closed as you watched him anchor his legs to the ground to keep from falling. You saw him drop his shoulders, defeated, as if he had forgotten his own strength, and he stood just as still as you did whilst Deckard shoved his hand through Vander's hair, grabbing him violently and pulling him to the ground. You watched him, because you were unable to do anything else, as if fear had slid liquid across your skin until it solidified around your ankles, the monstrous creature dragging Vander across the ground. 

It was the certainty. Vander, who had picked you up off the street at your weakest moment, who had taught you how to defend yourself, who had shown you the resilience that characterised him like a class while learning how to make Powder's favourite juice, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self by a punch. What could you have done to stop it? To stand between Vander and the one who had abused you as much as he had wanted? To face Deckard's vicious eyes once more, risking losing him all the same?

It wouldn't have helped.

You watched them walk, Silco's figure turning away from the chaos of shadows and death he left behind him, while Deckard followed close behind, gripping Vander's hair with a bruising strength. Your fingers itched. You had braided that hair many times, elaborate and funny designs as you grew up, but those hands were treating it cruelly, a monster freed of any kind of sentience. And it hurt. Watching them disappear into the fog, the Enforcer staggering down the street to the other side, it stung like an open wound. You bit your cheek, holding back the tears that threatened to slide down your skin, and felt the blood on your tongue like a foul aftertaste.

And then you heard it. The cry, choked and broken, that pierced your chest like a sharp knife. You stood up, waking the legs that had felt numb against the concrete edge of the rooftop, and moved on instinct, ignoring the insignificant discomfort of your ankle every time you leaned on it.

It was Vi. You slid across the roof, your feet seeking support on the nearest window ledge, hanging on to it to climb down to the next, and continued descending. You followed the heartbreaking sound of Vi's voice, drowning out her own sobs, and swallowed all the emotions you didn't want to feel, focused on finding your girlfriend. The polish of your nails peeled as you buried your fingers in joints between bricks, clinging to them to keep from falling to the ground, and you closed your eyes tightly before you took the last leap, placing most of your weight on your good foot as you landed on the ground.

You rose to your feet, a shiver running through your skin, as you heard the piercing cry of frustration, and turned to face it with a jolt. It had come from Benzo's shop. Had she been there all that time? You frowned, restless, and turned towards the massacre, clenching your jaw and staring straight ahead. You had to get Vi out of there. That was your priority. You couldn't afford to look at the ground, to collapse. Every breath you took, the air sounded slightly ragged, as if you were about to scream but held back, and you clenched your hands into fists as you dodged the bodies sprawled on the floor.

Your first step into Benzo's shop was hesitant, like an unconfident fawn's. You didn't want to think that it was the first time you would enter the place knowing that its owner would never come back to wait for you behind the counter, but the certainty came back to you again and again, as if brought by the tide. There was almost no light, the little oil lamps that were scattered around the shelves were off, as if they held a mourning you had not yet faced, and the darkness brought with it a feeling of coldness that dug into your bones.

‘Vi,’ you whispered, your choked voice faintly spilling across the room. ‘Vi!’ you repeated, louder.

You heard your name, low, dazed, almost vanishing into thin air, and tried to follow it. It was the storage room. She had been locked in the storeroom.

‘Wait!’ you said, rushing to the counter, ‘I'll get you out!’

You tried to piece together what had happened, your hand searching in the gloom for the spare key Benzo always kept in the wooden drawers. It was in Vi's nature to have tried to fix everything herself. It was inherent in her, to carry as much of the burden as possible so that her siblings —and even you, if you got into trouble— wouldn't have to suffer the consequences. You didn't know how she could have warned the Enforcers, but you knew they had come to Benzo's shop for her. You knew it as clearly as you knew you would have done the same for her if it had happened.

But if Vander had shown up, it was also because he had discovered her. And if he had been wearing the handcuffs, it had been him who had locked her in the storeroom. To stop her from doing another stupid thing. Maybe Vander wasn't her biological father, but a strained smile tugged at your lips at the thought that they were more alike than they allowed themselves to think they were.

When your fingertips brushed against the metal frame of the key, you grabbed onto it, running the few meters between the countertop and the door behind which Vi stood. Your hands trembled as you slid it into its lock, holding your breath as you tried a second time, and you turned it on its axis twice, as you had done so many times in the past, pulling the heavy door off its hinges so that you could wrap your arms around Vi's body.

She clung to you tightly, choking her sobs in the crook of your neck, and the silence grew heavy around you, empty of hope. You felt Vi's hands squeeze your shirt, squeezing your body against hers, her warm tears sliding down your skin. You looked up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh between your lips, and ran your hand up her back until it was tangled in her hair. Her shoulders shook under your touch to the rhythm of her own sobs, and you stayed still beside her for as long as she needed, allowing her to collapse.

‘Did you see what happened?’ you finally murmured against her hair, as her breathing slowly regulated.

‘Not much,’ she replied, her voice broken by tears, pulling away from you to rub her hands across her face. ‘Did you?’

‘It was Benzo...’ you began, and you hated the way you faltered before continuing. ‘They killed Benzo. And the Enforcers, some of them...’

‘And Vander?’

‘He's alive,’ you said, sliding your hand down his arm. ‘They took him.’

And your breath hitched as you realised.

He was alive. They had taken him, but he was still alive. Your mind was scrambling, trying to plan an impulse that came to you like a tug at your heart, watching the tears glisten on Vi's freckled cheeks. You couldn't let her lose someone else. Piltover had taken enough from her. Vander was still alive, you told yourself. He was still breathing, his chest was rising and falling, even if he hadn't had the strength to rise and confront them. He was alive, and you still had a chance to fight for him.

Your face took on a more worried tinge, ‘We need to find out where they've taken him.’

Vi looked up at you, her unfocused eyes darting across your face, but she nodded.

‘I know where,’ muttered a voice behind you. You turned abruptly, brow furrowed in distrust, and felt the pain wither against your ribcage. Ekko.

Little Ekko, never as small as he looked at that moment, his shoulders slumped forward and his crystallised gaze fixed on you. You took a step forward, ready to take him in your arms, but it was he who crossed the distance between you, taking refuge in your embrace. The pained expression on his face melted into tears as you snaked your hands around his back, and your own lump in your throat threatened to unravel as you felt him cry against your chest.

‘They killed him,’ he murmured, over and over against your skin, choking back his own tears.

‘I know, kid,’ you replied, unable to understand what you were supposed to do at that moment. You felt the warmth of unshed drops in your own eyes, and fought against them, burying your face in his hair as you felt one slide down your cheek. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry.’

‘We'll get them, Ekko,’ Vi promised, resting one hand on your back, stroking you comfortingly, and another on the boy's shoulder.

He parted slowly, rubbing his hand over his cheeks as Vi had done a few minutes before, and looked at the two of you, trying to gather the energy to speak. You couldn't stop to think what it must have felt like, watching Benzo die like that and still finding the strength to follow the perpetrators, the murderers, just so you could have a glimmer of hope of getting Vander back. He had been very brave.

‘It should be quick,’ you said, cradling his face in your hand, the pain shining in your gaze. ‘An hour and a half, maybe, tops two hours.’ You slid your gaze slightly to Vi, who was watching you with her brows furrowed in a helpless gesture, and added, ‘If we're not back then, please, go to my Mom's, yeah?’

Your mother would know what to do. She always did. She would take care of Ekko.

‘But...,’ he stammered, and you decided to ignore the way his chin began to tremble again, new tears gathering in his almond-shaped dark eyes.

‘No buts, Ekko,’ you replied, interrupting him gently. You took a breath of air, tangling your fingers in his short pale hair, pulling him to your body, and held him tightly in your arms. ‘I need you to be safe, please,’ you implored.

‘I don't want to lose you,’ he murmured against the fabric of your shirt, and you felt every movement of his lips, your own face struggling not to cry. 

You looked up, blinking back tears, sighing the lump in your throat, ‘You won't,’ you told him, stroking his white curls, ‘you have my word. I'll come back in one piece.’

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your hands on his shoulders, and slid your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the strands of tears that had leaked from his eyes, trying to muster the courage to flash a crooked smile. It wasn't easy, but you couldn't afford to look weak. Not in front of him, not when he needed you more than ever.

‘Besides,’ you whispered, unbuttoning your waistcoat, holding the pocket watch between your fingers, resting it against his chest in a graceful motion, ‘who's going to look after my watch while I'm gone?’

‘Are you going to let me keep it?’ he asked, cupping it in his two hands as if it were a treasure. He slid his fingertips over the silver curve of its circumference, over the twelve chipped numbers you had drawn above it - all Roman numerals - and looked up at you.

‘Forever,’ you promised, nodding solemnly.

He pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you melted into his embrace with closed eyes, memorising every detail. Vi joined in a sigh, wrapping her strong arms around you, and for a moment you remained buried under your own skin, wishing that it was all a nightmare and that when you opened your eyes, the rapid breathing, tears and screams were just part of yet another of your childish games.

Reality was far crueler than a kid's imagination.

You felt Vi's hand intertwined with yours like a shackle pulling you back to consciousness, the faint discomfort of your ankle keeping you sane as she led you to The Last Drop. You hadn't exchanged a word since you had left Ekko in the same room of broken glass you had fled from that morning, hidden in the rafters of the ceiling, and both of remained trapped in your minds, thoughts running at too much speed.

It was difficult to face such a situation. As inhabitants of Zaun, loss was part of your DNA. You came into the world crying for the loss of your future, a future that had been taken from you at the founding of the city, and you mourned the violence that you would inevitably encounter, ever-present in the streets of the underground. Vi had endured the death of her biological parents, as had Powder and the rest of the Vander children, and you had been born without knowing who your father was, growing up surrounded by brutality.

You didn't know what your girlfriend was thinking, but you tried to remember if you'd ever spent enough time in the docks to have been able to investigate the large building that loomed over the water, as if it were floating. Ekko had claimed to see the man of mist and Deckard disappear within its tall brick walls, but had refused to come any closer. You had left a soft kiss on his forehead as a farewell, and in a glance you and Vi had known what to do.

Vander had trained you for such a moment. He had spent years teaching you how to defend yourselves, practising boxing with you, training you to take care of your own. You had always assumed it would be complicated, any fight was. But as much as Vander had been a proponent of using violence, in his past, you had also learned peace. It was clear that Silco would not accept a dialogue, a bargain of any kind. He had negotiated with that Enforcer for Vander. Vander had been his target.

The importance of acting was to do it right. And if you sneaked in and out, as you'd done so many times before to get some food, you'd all sleep on the top floor of The Last Drop that night, listening to Vander's snoring, the sheets moving every time Powder rolled over in her bed, and Vi's body warm against yours.

The bar was dead silent when you slipped in through the back door, and you assumed Vander would have closed up before he went to find Vi. You waited a few moments for her as she went inside to fetch the gauntlets Vander always kept hanging over the counter, and slipped down the stairs to the small room in the basement of the building when she returned with a shake of her head. Someone had taken them.

‘Vi?’ uttered Claggor, turning to you as she opened the door. He added your name, avoiding the hint of a question. You tried to force a smile as you realised that they had always assumed that if one of you was there, the other would appear shortly after.

Vi came down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the two boys, and slid her eyes around the room, searching for the gauntlets, ‘Where are the...?’

You sat on one of the steps, listening to the soft thump of Powder's body as she pounced on her older sister, and pulled your trousers up to your knee, untying your laces at full speed. Whenever Vi was set on something, she acted on instinct and with great speed. You didn't know if she would look for something more —except perhaps other weapons— but you delegated finding them to her. You had little time to slow down the way your ankle was going to worsen its condition irremediably in the remainder of the night.

Nor did you have much more strength than she did to explain what had happened.

You pulled off the bandages you carried in your pocket, resting them on the old wood of the stairs, as you heard Vi's quickened breathing echo through the room, pulling your injured foot up a step to remove your boot. You looked up when you heard Mylo protest, ‘Hey, those are Vander's,’ he said, grabbing Vi by the wrist. ‘Slow down. What is going on?’

‘Benzo's dead,’ she muttered, and you closed your eyes for a moment, before continuing to untie the tight knot in your shoes. 

‘Dead?’ Claggor repeated, and you wondered if you were better off waiting outside. You removed your sock, shook your head, took a breath of air, and picked up the bandages, placing your foot on the knee of your other leg.

‘They took Vander.’

‘Who took Vander?’ added Claggor, as you began to wrap the bandage around your ankle, taut, inflexible on your skin, tense enough so that when you came back your joints wouldn't resent it. You did it angrily, trying to bury all the emotions you had managed to control so far.

‘I don't know,’ you heard Vi reply, and her voice sounded slightly closer as she turned to include you in the conversation, ’we're gonna help him.’

‘We're going with you,’ Mylo replied, almost as if he was hurt that it hadn't occurred to you earlier.

You put your sock back on when the bandages felt like a second skin over your foot, and tied your boots tightly. A bloody sprain wasn't going to stop you from rescuing Vander. It wasn't going to stop you from bringing him back, safely, home. You weren't going to let it. You looked up, sighing, and tried to intervene.

‘Whatever killed Benzo...’ you said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘It was nothing like I've ever seen,’ Vi continued, and her voice trembled as much as yours. ‘It tore him apart.’

You saw the way her shoulders tensed before even the first sob slipped from her mouth, but you didn't have a chance to approach her before her brothers, who embraced her warmly, all united by stubbornness and impotence. Vi put her hands to her face, covering the obstinate tears she did not want to let fall down her cheeks, and you knew she had come to the same conclusion as you. They were both going to want to go with you, and you were going to need their help, no matter how much Vi wanted to keep them safe.

‘You're not doing this alone,’ Claggor stated, determined.

‘He's our father too,’ Mylo added, his hand tracing circles on Vi's back. ’Do we know where they took him?’

‘Ekko followed them,’ you interjected, clearing your throat as Vi stowed what her brothers had left on the table in one of the backpacks you always left lying around. ‘The old cannery next to the docks. He said...’

You looked up from the backpack, calming yourself once you realised it had been the boys who had taken the gauntlets, but the muscles in your back tensed again as you noticed Powder standing in front of you, a look of determination on her face, and a suitcase in her hands. Of course she wanted to go with you too.

Vi turned to you as she heard you hesitate, and exhaled an exhausted sigh at the sight of her sister.

‘I need you to sit this one out, Powder,’ she asked, approaching her.

‘What?’ her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and your heart crumpled in your chest. Ekko had been easier to convince because he had seen what had happened. He was shocked, willing to wait for you to return. But Powder had always followed his sister's example, longing for a chance to show her worth and to stop being treated like a child.

‘You're not coming,’ and Powder's expression was worse than if she'd received a slap in the face.

‘I'm not afraid,’ she replied, desperate within the quietness of her response.

You couldn't intervene on this occasion. Nor were Mylo and Claggor going to. It went beyond their sense of responsibility, this was a blood sister fight to see which of the two would get their way. And the older one always had the upper hand.

‘It's too dangerous,’ Vi added, and you didn't have to see the gleam in her eye to know that she needed Powder to listen to her, to understand why she was asking so much of her.

‘But families stick together,’ Powder continued, accentuating his frown, ’you said it yourself.’

‘I know what I said...’

‘I want to fight,’ she announced, and the freckles creased on her cheeks as she looked up, raging, at Vi. ‘I can help.’

‘You're not ready,’ Vi replied, and her sharp tone cut over Powder's determination, shattering what hope remained. You saw how Vi held her breath for a moment, regretting her choice of words, and tried to correct them in a whisper. ‘You're all I have left,’ she said, resting the palm of her hand against Powder's cheek. ‘I can't lose you.’

‘Here,’ you uttered, in a soft, conciliatory tone, approaching them with one of the flares you had in a box under the stairs. It was a blue smoke one, a symbol you had talked about more than once with Powder, making jokes about the colour of her hair.

Vi took it gently from your hands, handing it to her little sister, ‘If they come for you, take this and run,’ she whispered, her gaze locked on Powder's pale pink eyes. ‘Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you.’

Eyes shining, you almost couldn't hear the last words, a gentle ‘I promise’ murmured against Powder's face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her sister's, memorising the warmth of her body before parting. You turned, beckoning Mylo and Claggor up the stairs, and you followed, leaving the sisters a few more seconds together.

The mood seemed somewhat subdued, Mylo's mouth closed in an altogether uncharacteristic muteness, and you peeled back your lips to make some comment to cheer them. The words died in your throat when you reached the landing, suddenly surrounded by Claggor's arms, and you held your breath in surprise.

‘I'm sorry,’ he said, and Mylo repeated it, both of them hugging you.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of weakness, and let out a choked sob against Claggor's shoulder, still feeling the lump in your throat.

‘It's not your fault,’ you murmured back, ’it's not.’

‘It's not yours either,’ Vi uttered, and you turned your face towards her, who had just appeared through the door.

You tried to curl your lips into a grateful smile, your eyelids quivering to keep from shedding a tear, ‘I know.’

But it wasn't true, because you could never find out what would have happened if you had come down from that rooftop before Silco appeared, if you had warned the Enforcers of Deckard's presence. It was already in the past, you had lost your opportunity. Maybe, if you had confronted them while Vander and Benzo were still conscious, everything would be fine. Maybe your presence would had led them to fight back. And that was something Vi didn't know either.

You trailed behind, but kept pace as Vi led you through the crooked streets of Zaun, turning corners and ignoring drunken men, towards the city borders. The docks were not a highly desirable place, though one to which Madam sent many prostitutes on the days of disembarkation. Most traders transacted goods with the topside, and its bright and shiny harbours, but those who dealt in coal and alcohol had to make a stop at the Lanes, and the black market in its streets.

That building, however, looked even darker in the moonlight, the mist rising from the water creating a cloak of eerie mystery around it. You walked around its perimeter in a couple of minutes, trying to figure out which entrance was the most secluded but best accessible, and it was your keen eye that located an open window on the first floor. You climbed onto Claggor's shoulders, a rope at your shoulder, and clung tightly to one of the pipes, checking with a smirk that it would be able to support your weight.

Of the four of you, you were the best at climbing. You were elusive, small and slender for your age, even more so than the children of Zaun, no doubt a consequence of the fact that on many days your mother had been unable to offer you food to put in your mouth. The need to hide had made you learn to duck between the rooftops of the city, and though Vi was better at leaping from building to building, you were certainly the sneakiest of the bunch.

You even seemed to glide along the facades, you'd been told, clawing at bricks and picking out which spots on the wall were best to rest your limbs on, as you were doing at the moment. You panted as you managed to get your arm over the window sill, sliding your leg over so that you could slide into the building, and held your breath as you glanced down the dark corridor. No one seemed to be there. You grabbed the coiled rope you had slung over your shoulder and began to drag it down the window, waiting for Vi's two tugs before you crouched on the floor and braced your feet against the wall.

You held on, with the rope wrapped around your waist and tugging at it while the others climbed, and left it hidden under the window once everyone had climbed up. In case any guards found it, they wouldn't know where to start looking, and you doubted you would need it to escape. Vander was too heavy and too weakened to get out the way you had come in.

You scanned the corridors of the warehouse, rusty platforms stacked in a narrow space, and hurried to take up position behind Claggor, the four of you forming a line with Vi in front and Mylo last, slouching forward under the riveted iron pipe railings. Vi signalled to you when she realised that there was a poorly lit room on the upper floor, and you all hurried up the stairs, still crouching. 

When you reached the other side of the corridor, Vi leaned forward, peering quickly, and turned to you with a triumphant smile, voicelessly pronouncing that Vander was there. You rested a hand on Claggor's shoulder as you felt Mylo's on your waist, and you advanced at a rapid pace until you reached the room, where Vander sat, defeated, in a big iron chair, all his limbs imprisoned by metal straps, fastened by padlocks.

You saw him spit blood, his broad chest straining to breathe out a hoarse cough, and he whispered a soft ‘Vi,’ his unfocused eyes closing as he felt his eldest daughter's arms slipping around his shoulders in a hug. His tone became more urgent as he realised you were really there, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘We're breaking you out,’ Vi explained, as you picked up the backpack she had left on the ground.

You opened it, kneeling on the ground, and pulled out the lock-picking device you had built for Mylo. It didn't always work, but it was the best you had. ‘Mylo,’ you called, and tossed the gadget to him.

‘On it!’

You turned towards the door, rising to your feet to check that no one was coming in, your fingers tingling to check the time on a watch you no longer had, but you froze when you heard Vander's husky voice.

‘How... how did you get in?’ he said, stuttering hurriedly over the words that were building up in his mouth. ‘There's guards everywhere.’

Oh God. Of course it had been a trap. 

‘It was easy,’ you heard Vi reply, her tone losing its strength as the realisation dawned on her. ‘We found an open window and...’

You rushed over to the backpack, hastily pulling out the weapons that Claggor and Mylo had gathered, as you saw Claggor's figure hurrying to grab his favourite dagger, trying to release one of Vander's wrists from its prison. The man made eye contact with you, Vi stepping behind you to watch the door, and you held back a sob as you heard Vander again, ‘You have to get out. Now.’

No. You weren't going to leave him again. You weren't going to fail at the same task twice. There had to be time, you could do it. Silco's men probably hadn't even realised you were in yet, you had a chance, you could....

But you heard a clap reverberate through the warehouse, soft and dangerous, and your breath caught in your throat.

Silco.

‘Welcome,’ he murmured, his voice flowing like a river down its course, the sound of his rhythmic clapping coming hopelessly closer to you, ‘you have my congratulations,’ you tried to ignore it, to keep the memory of his tone from bringing back the vision of Benzo's body falling to the ground, but it came to you with the force of a storm, leaving you breathless, ‘but i'm afraid this will be a very short reunion.’

You refused to turn toward him, your hands instinctively gripping Vander's gauntlets, and Vi positioned herself at your side, shooting a defiant glare at the man of mist as she held out her arms for you to place Vander's weapons on her.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ he added, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, ‘Vander the coward fled town with his children. And they were never seen again.’

You finished knotting the second gauntlet to your girlfriend's wrist, the straps stiff but comfortable on her pale skin, and exchanged a glance with her. You were going to make it. You rested your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, and she gave you a fragile but sincere smile, real, just for you. Vi was the best at boxing. You took a quick glance back, your gaze hardening as you saw that Silco was surrounded by his followers, a bunch of buff men and women, all of them ready to fight. You sighed, determined. If there was anyone who could take on a man two heads taller, and visibly stronger, it was her.

You moved your hand up to the nape of her neck, stroking the lower part of her hair, and closed your eyes as you rested your forehead on his. It was a good-luck caress, a wish to go home, a temporary goodbye. She took a breath of air, parting from you reluctantly, as she always did, and positioned herself at your back. You saw the way Claggor's dagger broke from too much pressure, and heard Vi's first step toward the door.

‘Claggor, see if you can find another way out of here,’ you ordered him, rotating your shoulders. You saw him nod, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mylo wrestled with the device in the lock on Vander's right leg. Claggor nodded. Vander looked at you, concerned.

‘You don't have to do this,’ he said, but you knew he was talking to Vi.

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, determined, resolved.

Your priority was to get Vander out of there, to get everyone home safely. You ignored Vander's strangled gasp as Vi's quickened footsteps echoed over the metal lattice floor of the corridor, and you brought your hands to your head, grabbing the two long metal bobby pins you wore in your hair, both sharp and U-shaped. You crouched down next to Vander's other leg, and picked up the padlock. Inventions were your thing, you had to figure out how to open it.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a thud behind you, momentarily startled, but smiled as you saw Vi, exultant in the middle of the bridge, and in the floor the body of the giant tattooed man you had seen when you turned around. That was your girl. You inserted one of the hairpins into the lock hole, noticing how Vander relaxed minimally against the seat as he saw that his daughter was perfectly capable, and then turned the other, recreating the teeth of a key. You imagined the mechanism under the padlock's metal cover, turning its gears to loosen.

Everything was going to be all right.

‘Mylo,’ you heard Vander, and saw out of the corner of your eye that Mylo had slipped the device to the floor. ‘You can do this.’

You looked over at Claggor, your fingers struggling against the lock, and saw that he had found a crack in the wall. There were enough tools in the backpack for him to open a hole. Perfect. You took a breath of air, forcing your wrist to turn the downward facing bobby pin all the way around, and the locking bow opened with a soft snap. You removed the hairpins, withdrawing the lock, and Vander rested his leg on the ground.

‘We're gonna get you out,’ you murmured, crouching down next to Mylo. ‘Hey, Myls,’ you said, laying your hands on top of his, helping him move them nimbly, ‘big breath.’

You felt him inhaling briefly, closing his eyes to feel the gears of the device against his palm, and you exchanged a glance as the smooth sound was repeated, releasing Vander's other leg.

‘We got this,’ he whispered, more encouraged.

‘Of course we do,’ you replied, placing a hand on Vander's knee to pull yourself to your feet.

Vi's soft panting continued to echo off the walls of the warehouse, to the rhythm of the punches of her gauntlet-covered fists as they impacted against the bodies of Silco's minions, and you looked back once more. Vi was rising against a bare-chested man, her shoulders tense, turned so that she could deliver another blow.

You focused on the lock on Vander's wrist as Mylo did the same on the other side of the chair, holding your hairpins tightly, moving your hands as fast as you could. You listened to your heart pounding in your ears, for a moment drowning out all sound from outside, like every time you secluded yourself in your studio, until you heard the first howl.

It reverberated in your mind, emptying it of all thought, like a shadow stretching over you. Deckard. You turned, eyes widening in horror, the mass of flesh that was the boy who had once abused you looming over Vi, and for a moment your heart stopped in your chest. In the darkness, you were only able to make out the fluorescent violet color of his veins, Vi's light pink hair, facing each other. You had seen what Deckard was capable of. You weren't going to let Vi end up like Benzo and those Enforcers.

‘Mylo, hurry,’ Vander pleaded, as you twisted the hairpins urgently, releasing the lock as soon as it gave way.

You turned toward the backpack, watching in horror as Vi leapt toward Deckard, and grabbed the first thing you saw. A piece of pipe, thin and hard against your hand, long enough that you could strike without getting too close. It wasn't a sword, but it would have to do. You looked up, checking that Claggor had already begun removing bricks from the wall, and advanced toward the deck, ignoring the way Deckard had grabbed Vi by the neck.

‘Silco, let her go!’ shouted Vander, slamming his free hand on the armrest of his chair. ‘This is between you and me!’

‘You had your chance,’ Silco replied, not even flinching.

Vi coughed, a choked, desperate sound, followed by a scraped gasp in her throat, seeking oxygen, and you slid onto the metal walkway. Deckard was barely aware that you had moved behind him, too focused on snatching every last breath of air from your girlfriend's lungs, and he dropped her against the ground as you jumped, unloading the pipe against his skull with all the force you had.

Deckard grumbled, an anguished scream spilling from his mouth, and you let go of the pipe, running to Vi. You slung one of her arms over your shoulders, one of yours around her waist, and carried her back to the room where Vander was, panting, the pain in your ankle beginning to awaken. You gritted your teeth, leaving Vi on the floor, leaning against the wall, and charged over to the sliding iron door, doing your best to close it. When you felt the door slam as it hit the wall, blocking Deckard's access, you pushed past the latch, collapsing against the floor, your shoulder pressed up to the door, just in case.

“You did good,” Vander whispered, looking at you, at Vi, his gaze clouded with admiration.

You merely nodded, exhausted, as Claggor continued to throw bricks, opening a large hole in the wall. You felt light, despite your tiredness, and leaned your head against the door. Mylo was struggling with the last lock, but you knew he was going to make it. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a heartbeat, sighing, a moment of quiet before the first bang came. It echoed through the room, metallic and dry, and you felt it coursing through your body. Deckard was trying to reach you all.

You watched as Vi sat up, the one fist that still retained a gauntlet resting on the ground to stand, and tried to crawl to sit beside you, her chest rising and falling at full speed. There was only waiting, you knew. A slow, agonizing wait, until the boys were done with their part of the mission. You felt Vi lean her head on your shoulder, your bodies moving in time to Deckard's pounding, straining against the door to try and hold on as long as it took, and you clenched your jaw.

You were going to make it. A knock, a furtive glance at Mylo, and you heard the soft sound of the lock being released. You were going to make it. One punch, your shoulders tensed, and Vander was finally free. You. Were. Going. To. Make. It. One punch. A gentle squeeze on Vi's free hand. And Claggor finished tore a hole in the wall. You stood up, advancing forward, and then, just silence.

Suddenly, an explosion. You stopped, alert, your eyes wide, and turned to Vi. She had the same terrified expression on her face, one hand resting on the door to pull herself to her feet. You listened carefully over your ragged breathing, your ankle throbbing, your throat dry. Another explosion, closer this time. You turned to Vander, frowning, looking at him as if he could have some kind of answer. He extended his hand toward you, gesturing for Vi to hurry towards them.

A third explosion, and the world around you ceased to exist.

The crackling of the fire, soft and malleable in your ears, was what greeted you when you woke up. Your mouth felt dry, ragged, as if you had swallowed dust, but you opened it anyway, taking in a big breath of air. The oxygen burned your tongue, your eyes still closed, and you tried to move your hands, but you were unable to. You were caught.

The weight of certainty hovered over your ribcage, imprisoning it against the ground, and you moved your head on the cement beneath you, the ground warm against your forehead. You breathed in a second time, your respiration becoming more erratic, and then it hit you. Ashes. There were ashes everywhere, flames eating up the space in the room as if to make you disappear.

You opened your eyes, hearing a faint cough somewhere, and tried to focus your gaze on some point, but you saw only shadows and fire, dancing over you, coming closer, taunting you, and then going away again. You turned your head, looking for some familiar figure, Vander's comforting gaze in the darkness, Vi's soothing touch on your skin, but you were alone. You clenched your jaw, trying to fight against the stone that held you prisoner on the ground, but you found it impossible.

And then, a cry. In a déjà vu, you stirred again under your stone prison, turning toward the desperate sound of Vi's voice. You couldn't see her, but you knew she was there. Your chest was beginning to ache under the weight of the stone, each time managing to breathe less and less air, but you gritted your teeth, struggling, and managed to get a hand out. You mumbled your girlfriend's name, calling her name amidst the chaos, and sobbed when you got no response.

It seemed like the end. You felt dirty, drenched in sweat, stiff under the night of Zaun, and you were unable to perceive your legs, dumb under the stone. They were bricks, probably. Or the roof, perhaps. Snippets of the explosion came back to your memory, the dull sound against your ears, the brutality of the shockwave, and you looked straight ahead again. Vi was there, somewhere, and you had to get to her.

You fought against the cement block above you, trying to move it with your hips, with your arms, doing everything you could to get out of there, until you heard your name. In a wail, low and desperate, to your right. You turned, ignoring the laceration from the edge of the stone on your torso, and saw her. Her clear, frightened gaze, calling for you, the desperate gesture of her body. She was trapped under the metal door.

A growl, a large, dark silhouette in the smoke, and pounding. But you ignored them. You tried to turn a little more, struggling to reach Vi, your fingernails clawing at the ground and the ashes under your hand, dragging you towards her. Then the floor began to shake under your fingers, the ringing in your ears intensifying. The door imprisoning Vi flew off, and she crawled over to you, her hand outstretched in search of yours.

You stretched out your arm to reach for her, flinching as you heard a pained shout from Vander, extending your fingers, reaching out as far as you could for her, but before you could finally touch her fingers, a monstrous figure loomed over both of you, snarling, and grabbed Vi's body, leaping out of the building.

Your hand fell to the ground, defeated, and the walls that were left standing shook with the force of another explosion. You closed your eyes, stubborn, and shook yourself. You had to get to Vi. You had to find her, and Vander, and together you would search for Mylo and Claggor. You would return home. Nothing would have been in vain.

The flames crackled louder around you, almost warning you that getting up was a bad idea, but you ignored them. You weren't going to listen to them. You rested one hand on the ground, the other pulling the stone above you. You weren't strong enough to be able to lift it, but maybe you could wriggle out from under it. You were good at crawling, you could do it. You heard a cry of pain, distant but sharp against your chest, wholly yours. Your shoulder began to burn.

The first drop landed on your cheek. For a moment you thought it was blood, thick and dark against your skin, but then another fell on your chest, light and cool, and a next, and a next. Rain. It was raining. Water, cold and clear, that made the fire sizzle around you. You breathed a sigh of relief as you rested your shoulder on the ground, the dust and rain soothing the burns that threatened to sear your flesh, and leaned forward again. One arm in front of the other, ignoring the pain, pulling yourself back up as you fell to the ground, slowly and achingly moving forward.

Your legs wobbled as you tried to stand up. The bandages on your ankle were soaked in blood, which slid down from your thigh, staining everything in its path. Your torso was bruised, throbbing against your hand, and your ears were ringing. You leaned against the stone that had been above you, towering over it, and blinked, sliding your gaze around the room.

And then you saw them, Mylo and Claggor. Buried under the pieces of ceiling that had collapsed on top of you, motionless, drained of blood. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step toward them, a sob piercing your throat. There was nothing to be done, you knew. Still you knelt beside them, stroking Claggor's face, running your mangled fingers through Mylo's hair. You couldn't leave them. They were your family, you had to take care of them.

Powder's desperate scream echoed across the starry sky of Zaun, and your heart pulled forward in your ribs, your head turning toward the giant gap in the wall. Powder. She was supposed to be safe, in The Last Drop. She wasn't supposed to see any of this. She was supposed to wait for you to come back, in a couple of hours, and hold each other, perhaps commenting on it all as a successful anecdote. Mourning Benzo, honoring his memory.

Powder wasn't supposed to be there.

You rose to your feet once more, brow furrowed in concentration, gritting your teeth as you braced your injured leg on the floor, crawling, leaning against the walls to get out of there. You walked the metal corridors of the deserted building, of the cemetery of concrete and fire, descending the stairs one at a time, holding back the screams of pain that threatened to spill out of your mouth. You had to get to her, protect her, look for Vi, find Vander. Together you'd be okay. You always had been. You could make it through, with Ekko, with your mother's help. You would make it. You could fix it.

The night air greeted you like a slap in the face, the empty street echoing your footsteps. No one was there. You had heard Powder, you were sure. But she wasn't there. In a haze of light and shadow, you saw a body on the ground. Everything was gone, but there was another corpse right in front of you. You approached slowly, limping, gasping for breath, until you were able to recognize his face.

It was not Deckard, as you had wished. It was Vander's bruised and deformed face, turned into a monstrous beast, the violet blood spilled under his body. You put a hand to your mouth, falling to your knees beside him, collapsing. And the lump in your throat finally burst, a scream leaving your mouth, resting your forehead on his chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

You looked up, the loneliness caressing an uneasy shiver across your skin, and stared before you, seeing nothing.

Sometimes your last breath doesn't belong to you. It is stolen, ripped away by others with firm and merciless hands. One second, one heartbeat, one desperate look. One second, one heartbeat, and life leaves your eyes. Other times you hold your breath, the emptiness opening in your chest, deepening as you try to contain it. You tell yourself it's the end, that you need it to be. But it isn't. You end up breathing. You let the oxygen invade you again, even though it feels like a weight on your chest. You keep breathing, even though you wish you weren't.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky , @luvrluvrr , @ssqra , @darkmoonchic , @urlocalsabito , @spicetouched , @astrxwitch , @deadlynightshadebylana , @bachirastoe , @pickmmeup , @your-scarlett-world

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Just had another Jimmy thought...

If Curly had a daughter he would definitely introduce Jimmy as an uncle of sorts... Cutting it short once shes of age Uncle Jimmy about to get a whole lot creepier.

First he pulls you on his lap while He and your dad Curly are watching football or something, and you feel something but you dont say anything... but your dad needed to run to the store to grab some more beer. -Cupcake anon

Your own age.

Uncle! Jimmy x Curly's Daughter! Reader.

warnings: age gap(reader is an adult),toxic relationship themes, jimmy is a major creep, non-consensual touching. curly is an oblivious single father.

a/n; cupcake anon, you're a fucking genius. love you for sharing this prompt with me,hope I was able to do it justice!

It wasn't fun being a well respected captain's daughter. Especially after your mom left, your dad would leave for shipments for months on end,and you had to spend a good chunk of your childhood with nannies rather than your parents.

But that was when he came along,Jimmy... Or Jim,as your dad would call him. He was your dad's closest friend since childhood,and now he was gonna be... Living with the two of you? Your dad said that it was due to the shortage of leases on the market currently,but you know damn well it was because that jimmy person was just a broke guy.

"hey,so you're the daughter I keep hearing my friend talk about,huh?".

"uh yeah,my name is y/n".

"y/n huh? well that's a pretty name for a pretty little girl".

you did think it was strange as to how,Jimmy... or well,uncle jimmy as your dad advised you to call him, was so Frank and open minded with you,but you realised that's just how men in his situation were. Open-minded,and careless.

Uncle jimmy... was an interesting man to say the least,you hadn't really had the luck of having any fun 'relatives' for that matter so you thought this was the best as it was gonna get. Jimmy would offer you cigarettes. Something that your father had clearly mentioned in front of him was off limits for you.

"C'mon aren't you a big girl now? some rules are meant to be broken y'know?

"but dad would kill me if he ever found out..."

"it's alright,it will be our little secret".

All in all you started warming up to him,you thought that hey,this guy is already down on his luck,and he's also so fun to be around! wouldn't hurt to be friendly with him.

It didn't matter how unnecessarily long his hugs were,or how suffocating they were. he would always hug you so tight that you had to physically wriggle your way out of his grasp. on some occasions you could've sworn you heard him say something under his breath.

It didn't matter how he would stare at you for long periods of time if the two of you were in the same room,you thought maybe it's just a middle aged man thing

It didn't matter how during road trips,he would sit in the backseat beside you instead of sitting beside his best friend in the front. How somehow his hands would always find it's way to be on your thigh.

He was a fun guy after all! He lets you drink,smoke,and sneak out. Do all the things which your dad would have crucified you for.

Seeing both of you so close would have your dad asking you—

"wow you sure are having fun with uncle jimmy,huh? you guys seem to be close".

"yeah he's so cool! it's super fun to be around him".

"fun huh? Well im hoping it's a good kind of fun,honey".

But curly shouldn't be worried! His best friend was just taking care of his daughter... Right? He wouldn't do anything,wrong... Right? That much faith curly should have in his best friend... Should he not?

Your dad and uncle had a habit of watching football games during weekend nights,and you decided to join them one such night.

While watching the game,jimmy suddenly turned to you,and said.

'oi y/n, c'mere and sit" as he motioned towards his lap,he turned towards curly and said. "For old times sake,eh? You remember how I used to carry ya around? I'm feelin nostalgic".

Curly was already feeling tipsy from the 3rd pint of beer he was chugging,so he just laughter and said "haha,you guys are so adorable!".

Albeit,a strange request,you decided to do as your uncle asked anyway,and you went to him and plopped on his lap. No matter his lanky figure,he was still strong enough to carry your weight. So he had no problem in adjusting himself to have you sir on his lap while still getting a comfortable view of the ongoing game.

everybody was focusing on the game,but you,your focus was on something else entirely,all the while you were sitting on his lap, you could feel Jimmy's hot breath on your shoulder,how his left hand was rested at your side,firmly placing a grip, you could feel his heart beating, and you don't know what got over you,but you decided to do something risky, somthing vulgar which you hadn't even properly processed in your mind.

You grinded against him just a little,and that was enough to get his heart beating 10 times faster,you could practically feel his breath hitch,and him letting out the quietest groan. And you felt something hard between you legs,you realised that you had just gotten him rock hard. you felt accomplished for some reason. But that's when your dad decided to drop off the bomb.

"wait,fuck we're out of beer,jimmy look after y/n while I make a quick trip to the store to get few more".

"you got it boss".

You knew that it was wraps the moment your dad walked out the front door and closed it behind him. You blinked and suddenly you were pinned down onto the sofa, your uncle had both your hands pressed firmly above your head,he stared at you like a wild animal on the prowl, hunting its prey.

"damn,I didn't know that you were so dirty, grinding against me like that,you know how 'fuckin hard it was for me to keep from moaning?,you deserve to get punished for it don't you think?".

• you intently stared him,not knowing what to do,excited yet scared of what he was going to do next.

And then without a warning,he smashed his lips against yours,into a rough, messy, hungry kiss. he tasted like liquor with a hint of cigarettes,the cheap brand which he smokes all the time. His tongue was wildly exploring every inch of your mouth, he felt like an animal in heat.

then in between the kiss he said, "you don't know how long I've been wanting to do this,kid".

you already knew that this was going to be quick as your dad would be back from the store in no time,but you also knew,that this was the beginning of something,very long, something very vulgar. and even though it might be wrong,you felt eager,you felt excited. you were looking forward to whatever was going to happen next.

[blueberri-blu]

(Oop my shi sent before I even put the request 🙂)

Anyway....

So I had a request for Rise Donnie where it's like valentines day and reader is on their computer and then they get a notification that says their computer has been hacked then they hot the "ok" button and then it just says "i just have one question for you" then we click the "ok" button again and it says "will you be my valentines? " and then a yes and no button and every time you click the no button it jus says "please? "

Thanks!

Feel free to ignore!

And have a good day/night/afternoon/ morning or whenever you see this!

Omg! Don't worry ^^

I absolutely love this idea (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾) My heart just... Fluttered, And I am so down bad for Rise Donnie (I have way too many fan Edits of him)

Please? 人.⁠·⁠´

[rise]Donnie x g/n reader

~ Oneshot, Fluff

人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´

The sun had fallen, leaving only the moon's soft light. You almost couldn't tell that tomorrow was Valentine's Day.

Since you had no significant other, you planned on just playing games on your computer. You had hoped for a certain purple clad turtle to be with you on Valentine's Day

But since he had yet to ask, you ultimately lost hope.

As you woke up the next morning, you did your morning routine, brushing your teeth, washing your face

Sitting down in your chair in front of you computer, your fluffiest blanket on your shoulders, wearing you comfiest pajamas

Turning on your computer, your mouse already near where to click for your game

A glitch dawned your screen

"Your computer has been hacked" with the only option being a button that said ok

After pressing it, a question you never thought would be directed at you, popped up

"Will you be my Valentine?" With two buttons: Yes and No

At first you clicked no, because what kind of creep would hack your computer and ask you this?

By pressing no, another one showed up saying "Sigh, please?"

There was only one person turtle you knew that verbally expressed these sorts of things

So, you pressed yes

And confetti showed up on your screen, and a video of Donnie dancing showed up

At the sight of this, you immediately went down to the lair

You walked to the lab with purpose, and upon entering, you saw Donnie, happily squealing and dancing

You chuckled to yourself, then said "chuckle, You're so cute Don" Donnie whipped around, a bit stunned that you were there

"oh, ahem, my apologies, y/n, I was nearly... Celebrating"

"Celebrating what exactly" you said with a smirk

"cough, uhm well you see, on this strange holiday, most dumdumbs would take their s/o out for dinner. However! Our celebration shall last all day!"

"oh! So I'm your significant other?"

You could tell he was holding back a blush, trying not to blow his bad boy facade

"Well... I wouldn't be against the idea, that is if you aren't" he was softer, gauging your reaction, looking for any sign of discomfort

"I would love to Don" you two closed the space, he put his hands out, as if to grab you by the waist, but stopped and looked at you "is this satisfactory?"

You giggled, realizing his nervous brain was looking for data to collect

"actually, I am extremely satisfied" he relaxed, allowing his hands to pull you close, and softly kissed you, marking the beginning of your relationship

人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´人.⁠·⁠´

I hope you liked it! I tried to get it done as soon as possible >~<

I really appreciate your request! Let me know if you'd like another Oneshot of just what Donnie planned for Valentine's Day!

[t4tpumpkinduo]

every day i mourn the fact that cpumpkinduo could have become the next gomez and morticia in this fandom if only people had read their relationship right

TEARING MY SHIRT OPEN NO LITERALLY LITERALLY LITERALLY my 9/11 is ppl's bone chilling media illiteracy and it happens to me EVERY DAY multiple times. they're MATCHING in how bizarre and strange they are there's no nefarious malicious horror dynamic there's no abuse on either end they're just speaking in tongues!!!

it's weird loaded kinda shouldn't be doing this in public power plays, it's hiding the earnest want to be with eachother expressed through riddles and actions, it's cq eating cschlatts heart and saying he doesn't gaf abt him to a crowd he's performing for then crawling to CBADBOYHALO OF ALL PEOPLE (?) with cschlatts bloody bones in his hands asking about revival, it's cschlatt spiraling in manburg so bad that one of the things that gensrs destroys a MASSIVE chunk of his stability is cq shooting him (he dies frm this the same way he did during the FESTIVAL, another manic self betraying decision he didn't think would escalate that far), cq leaving, then him thinking cq planted the tnt under manburg (which was actually cwilbur ✌️ smthing cq tried to talk him out of. btw. cq who's entire deal is he hates being looked down on he doesn't like being treated as lesser spent an entire thing pleading with cwilbur to let him meet up w cschlatt. who he then doesn't corner or hurt and earnestly engages with in a clear plan tht would allow him to step down w/o harm. they make prenup jokes during the fucking meeting don't speak to me.). "you left me in my hour of need" WHAT THE FUCK. having GAY SEX in front of CQS DAD while he was ACTIVELY ENGAGED WITH TWO OTHER PEOPLE!!!!!!!! cq keeps the fucking jerk off book he kept the manburg flag in his enderchest cschlatt reaches out to CQ FOR REVIVAL despite having countless options he tries to keep learning spanish for him he's allowed to leave lnv and yet he keeps coming back so they can play board games cq is directly propelled into TORTURE on schlatts behalf he already has plenty motivation why was cschlatt needed in this plotline. can we get goddamn REAL

the fandom urge to scrub down every interesting dynamic into a one note dehumanized abuser prop and uwu poor baby blameless mush woobie KILLS me, and ESPECIALLY with how much people show their asses abt it. (i've said it before i'll say it again. why do you see addicts and brown people as inherently crueler meaner more sadistic abusers assaulters ✌️ and why am i killing you with meteors) it's such a disservice to everything involved it's so boring and one note and Nothing it's NOTHING. make ocs and stop bothering me.

like if it pisses you off stay pissed oawf idc.... t4t gomez and morticia cpumpkins is beautiful and true cschlatt stunning revived politician arm candy in lnv and cq freak weirdo who loves her so much and hunts people with bricks about it. like get mad if you wanna but they will keep kissing idk what to tell you

[librivore42]

A cultural exchange

This gif is mildly false advertising because there's no kissing in the fic but it definitely carries the 'Minthara yanks Gale in, much to his pleased surprise' energy. A secret withers gift for @quescon! Ao3 link below, and full text under the cut if you want to stay on tumblr (but comments and kudos would be welcome!)

A cultural exchange (1051 words) by Librivore42 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minthara Baenre/Gale Characters: Gale (Baldur's Gate), Minthara Baenre Additional Tags: Rated teen for the fact that they're definitely undressing eachother but that's about it, I'm bad at ratings okay Summary: Minthara is attracted to Gale, and Gale is clearly both interested and absolutely not going to make the first move, so why beat about the bush? She takes matters into her own hands.

~~~~~~

Minthara was indeed beautiful. Forceful. Powerful. Direct. So maybe Gale should have been slightly less surprised when, not half an hour after they’d set up their tents and he’d wandered toward the tree-line to look at some fascinating mushrooms, he’d been powerfully and directly pressed up against a tree.

“Minthara?”

“Wizard,” she said calmly, as if pinning wizards to trees and busying herself with the laces of their shirts was a common everyday occurrence.

Surely it wasn’t.

“May I-” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice level as a hand briefly dipped under the fabric, “ask what by Elminster’s beard you’re doing, exactly?”

“I did not think you would need it explained to you.” Red eyes much too close, much too pleasantly heated. “Or did your goddess not concern herself with the mortal necessity of undressing a bedmate?”

“Mystra would- I. That isn’t-” Feeling too flustered by the suddenness of it all to come up with a proper retort, he batted her hands away.

“Now really, I must protest!”

“Must you?” she said dryly, resuming her unlacing. “To what do you object, wizard?”

There were numerous and equally valid variables in this situation to object to. The suddenness of it, the lack of asking whether he was actually interested, as if his willingness to participate was not a consideration- not that he was wholly unwilling mind you, nevertheless it was the principle of the thing- but as his mind spun for some excuse to get her hands off of him so he could have a single coherent thought, all he could come up with was “The location.”

She raised her eyebrows, fingers stilling as he willed some blood back to his brain.

Good. She was distracted. Now he could push her very warm and very appealingly muscled arms away and walk back to camp and they could all pretend this had never happ-

“We. Ah. Are much too close to the campsite and our companions. A tent might afford us more privacy in this particular situation.”

Gods damn it. He went on, mouth working incessantly to fill up the silence she was staring at him with.

“Visual privacy at the very least, though if we were further in the forest we would have less chance of being overheard. It would be rather less comfortable but perhaps-”

“Are you never silent?” she said in milder annoyance than he was used to. And then, much to his surprise, “Very well. Privacy you shall have.”

Quick and efficient, he was grabbed by the mostly open shirt front and dragged into her tent, still a little dazed to have been given this consideration.

Once the tent flap closed them in together, she looked him up and down with vaguely proprietary air. Had Mystra ever looked at him like that, or had he always read it as affection? Minthara’s gaze was certainly different, but similar enough that it made him bristle.

“A second objection, if your sole interest is a warm body to satisfy your needs then I am certain there are many others to provide.”

A flicker of surprise, and then, bafflingly, increased interest as she stepped forward into his space and resumed undressing up.

“You are a strange one,” she said, her voice almost… amused? “If my sole interest was a warm body I would indeed have sought out another to provide it.”

Gale let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and he did have to wonder precisely how they got from Minthara seeming to express only the deepest disdain for him to her fingers sliding under his shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders.

Perhaps in drow culture disdain was a step up from indifference? He had to admit, he was not particularly well read on the ways of the drow, though he was dimly aware that men were faced almost exclusively with those two emotions. A shame really, he had been most remiss in learning more about their companion, not asking her nearly as many questions about the Underdark and drow as he had asked Lae’zel about the Astral plane and the Githyanki.

Given that Lae’zel was always very responsive and Minthara stared at him like a slug she’d prefer to step on, that was not surprising. But he could find books. Truly there was no excuse besides neglect that he had been caught so short-handed in this- her hands were at the laces of his trousers now - very…. sudden and… intimate…. cultural exchange-

A smack on his cheek, surprisingly light, brought him back to reality and the chill air on his increasingly bare skin.

“I expect you to pay attention.”

“Yes ma’am.” He wasn’t sure if it was the smack or the authoritative tone that made the response tumble from his mouth so readily, but he was sure that despite her lack of expression, he saw the following in Minthara’s eyes:

Surprise again Delight Satisfaction An even greater increase of interest

Duly noted. He filed that away in his currently limited mental codex of drow culture. Or his understanding of Minthara, at the very least. It would be prudent to assume that she was merely a partial reflection, not a complete representation, of what was no doubt a very varied and fascinating- oh Gods. Warm and calloused hands in the right place were remarkably focusing when he was in danger of getting distracted again.

He tried very hard to formulate a coherent thought again.

“Perhaps you should-” he gestured towards her. “Allow for a levelling of the playing field, as it were?”

“An impertinent question,” she scoffed, but took his hand and directed it to the buckles of her armour, giving him a little room to get his mind in order. He glanced at her quickly as he worked, noting the amusement buried deep in her eyes. She seemed to enjoy a little pushback, alternating with plenty of deference, though he had yet to learn if that was a drow preference, a Minthara preference, or simply what she preferred out of him.

“We shall have to do something about that failing of yours. Kneel.”

Ah well, who was he to miss an opportunity for greater cultural knowledge? He grinned a little, all too rapidly falling into the rhythm of this little encounter like a newly learned lanceboard strategy.

“Yes ma’am.”

[bawmbo]

hi, thank you. youve opened a can of worms that cannot be closed

killer is such an interesting character to me. i realized that im not actually too sure where to start but ill start with his timeline;

the idea of a character whose home was slowly destroyed for reasons outside of their control and beyond what they couldve ever thought was real is an incredibly interesting concept to me. i also love psychological horror and reality breaking type of things in relation to it.

to be transformed into something outside of the bounds of definition, and live with the consequences of that, of your loss of autonomy is terrifying. to be named under that total loss is horrifying. to know that everybody will only know your name and never what you went through to get there, that no one would even really care. not that you could get yourself to. theres so much potential with the idea of someone who wants to drain your world of everything for entertainment, and they can forcefully recode it, and they do not care about you because you are just a game character to them. and you are the only one aware of this. and when youre taken out of the timeline by a strange man who can also forcefully shift your control of your situation, everyone will only know you as just as bad as him. as a murderer with no reason. and every time you look at this man (nightmare) all you can feel is the same hatred you feel for yourself. you cant help but feel like youre the same. but this isnt about nightmare as much as i really do love him and writing his character (also super passionate about him)

i have a lot of problems in general with his fandom portrayal and the fact that we either see him as portrayed as either incredibly childish, dumb, very sexualized, etc. and its okay to want to write him how you want to write him, have fun, just not our cup of tea

to us, hes incredibly agile, quiet. hes eerie and incredibly smart and much more aware of whats going on than he lets on. he has lost all respect for anyone who claims theyre more powerful than him, and the way he taunts is by bringing them back to his level (or just doing things he knows pisses them off but not enough to get him killed for it. massive staring problem and wont elaborate on it). and while he can be flirty, where i understand the sexualization comes from.

i think i just crave more in depth characterization from him. how terrifying he is during battles, how he knows the knives he fights with better than the air he breathes and the placement of his feet just as much. how he could be using his magic but its difficult to fight him even without it. the absence of what he could be doing and the presence of how difficult what he is doing showing through. his disconnection from the world around him and how hard it is to realize that everything around you is just codes. that everything is malleable in the wrong hands and everyone lives their lives blissfully unaware of how quickly things can change. and how he could be deeply angry by this but never actually feel it well in his chest like he sees with others. he isnt indifferent, and at some point, somewhere he might express that care. but he cant. and this is it. and he doesnt know how to move on from that.

maybe when he gets close to people his relationships end up showing slow signs of trust. when he does trust people is he surprised if they leave? how scared is he to depend on anyone when no one was ever there to? maybe one day he finally learns to sleep with his chest or back exposed and around people. and his version of hanging out is going "hey i know a spot" and its a 50 minute walk through a closed off forest but its beautiful. and youll probably get some diseases, just gotta hope you dont. the next place is probably a feral cat colony hiding in the sewers hes been feeding and slowly gaining the trust of. hes weird.

in general i really do love complex characters and think about them a lot. and i love seeing how complex characters can be written. i love exploring the possibilities with him and i find that when we either write him or collab stories where we write characters interacting with him, we have a lot of fun and end up thinking about him a lot.

my friend @nullandvalid is a big killer enthusiast too and if you send him an ask you could probably get a big rant too. (also @thaltro. both him and null write killer super well imo. been incredibly fun to listen to them talk about how they write him and engage in writing stories with them) thank you for giving me time to yap about it, ill probably be thinking of more in the meantime but this is all i have atm fhahaha

another one for fun, pretty experimental. this one was one of those "draw regardless of whether or not you think it looks good" things. swore to myself the next utmv character i drew and posted was gonna be fell but here we are. gonna try to get used to posting things that i dont consider my best work. hi killer love you dude

[kazachokolate]

Watched walkthrough of Pizza Tower and decided to draw some characters

[colfy-wolfy]

god rain world is awesome. shout out to rain world.

[griem]

ijbol idk man releasing screenshots of very polarizing things said in a private discord server between friends in a public "callout" post is #the most #tumblrific thing ive ever seen LOL.

#opinion 😱 in tags

[carus26]

A couple more points I'd like to discuss, given the opinions I sometimes come across x)

Yes, I've been doing *analysis* a lot lately

Just give me some time

I've been saving all this up since 2013 

And I won't rest until I say it all

In my personal blog lol

*Sulley cheated at games just for himself, It was a purely selfish act*.

No, not just for himself. Because before that he literally defended Mike in front of the dean, and sincerely believed in him, but after her words *do you really think he's scary?* he began to doubt. Yes, he did all this so that everyone could get into the scary program, including Mike. Yes, he did a bad thing (which he already regretted a thousand times), but he did it not only for himself, otherwise the scene between him and the dean would not have existed. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have protected Mike, or tried to train him, he would have just done what he did.

*That conversation between Mike and Sulley (lake scene) is meaningless because Sulley doesn't understand him*.

He honestly admitted that he doesn't understand him, and honestly responded to Mike's claims that *everything comes easy to monsters like you, no matter what you do, you always win*. As it turns out, no? Everyone needs to try to achieve something, even when you have talent. If Sulley didn't try himself, he would not have achieved anything. And he admitted that everything in his life goes wrong, only because of him, and nothing can just happen if you don't try. So the reproaches about this scene are pointless, they both expressed their point of view and both understood each other.

*After fear was replaced by laughter, employees are now working overtime, Sulley is a bad boss*.

I don't really agree. This is not the moment when you get a ready-made business and you just do exactly what was done before you, this is a business from scratch, there is a complete restructuring, and this takes time, besides, no one is forced to work here. Seriously, what can you expect in a situation like this, when you don't have enough workers, and the management demands FAST results. Especially when you were made a boss on someone's whim, and now you have to clean up all the mess. In the future working hours should return to normal. By the way, he also works overtime.

And also my personal opinions on why I didn't like some of the scenes from maw related to him:

1. That episode with baseball, I still honestly don't understand why everyone, including Sulley (who suggested it himself), got mad at Tylor, who literally did what he had to do. Some weird childish grievances, he suggested it himself, and he himself got offended.

2. With all due respect to the scene with the *revelation* of Tylor in the eighth episode, it was very strange....

Everyone just went and believed that Tylor did all these crimes, and the company does not even have banal security cameras? Sulley just believed all the accusations and did not even think that they could be false? Considering that he KNOWS Tylor, and they have a good relationship in general.

But, you know, don't blame the character for a lazily written script... Everything happened so conveniently, just so that the script would work out as it should. It's a children's series, no one will ask questions, right? And this applies to ALL the characters in the series, which is why I sincerely hope for a sequel in the form of a full-length film, and not a continuation of the series.

At least with writers who care about how they portray the characters and the franchise.

🔹A few thoughts about Sulley, why i like his character and his relationship with Boo🔹

(personal opinion and views, I can say the most predictable basic things, and yet I want to express my personal feelings, it's corny but it's honest work)

(also a lot of words..and doodles)

I apologize in advance if I expressed myself in some way unclear or incorrectly and for grammatical mistakes, since I am not strong in english ")

Personality and appearances:

All of the Monsters Inc. characters have great designs that complement their personalities perfectly, and Sulley is no exception.

I LOVE how his design perfectly captures his character. He has soft and sharp features, just like he himself can be *soft and sharp* at the same time. He has a gentle nature, but under the right circumstances can become formidable and even dangerous. In other words, I like the fact that while he is calm, you may forget or even not know HOW scary he can be in the moment, that is, exactly until he HIMSELF shows it. A great way to show a character's kind nature without forgetting who they are and what status they have in their world.

I olso like that he is not a *perfect do-everything-right* protagonist. He is impulsive, he listens to himself and his opinion is based on his own considerations, often incorrect or risky. 

People can say that only at Monsters University Sulley is so *rebellious* and only does what he wants (hinting at how calm and humble he is in the first film as opposed to the prequel) and, based on my personal observations, I can say that he is ALWAYS like this, he acts for his own reasons, and yes, he acts from considerations of *do what is right*, but what is *right* everyone understands in their own way.

For example, like when he risked his and his best friend’s life/career for the sake of a human child whom he had known for a couple of days, or when he cheated at games and then goes to save Mike from the human world. Always impulsive decisions based on feelings and one’s own understanding of what is *right* at the moment.

He also thought that it would be right if he was in the company of high-status monsters and behaved the same way as them (because his family and those around him expect this from him, I believe), and he realized that he was wrong only when he understand (and saw) that he could be himself and that he can’t judge everyone by their appearance and *status* (specifically in that scene when Mike secretly brought everyone to the MI in order to show the uniqueness and dissimilarity of each monster) 

What I mean is that his worldview is always changing based on what he sees and feels, and he always acts based on his personal understanding of what is right and don't, which I find actually a very interesting character trait for a protagonist (not that it's super rare, but still).

Also how many different emotions he can express, from joy to rage, I always liked characters with a rich *baggage* of emotions, and who at the same time do not irritate, do not become hysterical with or without reason, and who simply use emotions at the right moments, not going too far, that is, not capricious and not *drama queens*. 

Another small detail I really like is the fact that Sulley is very aware of his physical strength and never brags or uses it unnecessarily. He is VERY strong, and somehow communicates and contacts with the smallest creatures without any problems, and does not even really use his full strength in a fight, only as self-defense or protection of another.

I also see a lot of different opinions about his prequel version, but honestly? I only started to like him more after university. He was shown from a completely different side, as was his development from who he was to who we know from the first movie. Showed what kind of character he is without Boo. What he thinks about, what he worries about, what kind of relationships he builds, his goals, what did it take for him to get to that point in his life that is shown in the first movie. Love how he went through his arc from "worst to best", how he accepted and realized his mistakes, and how he gradually became attached to those who are dear to him.

(the way he expressed himself to Mike at the end? Being the only one who told him the truth, while highlighting his virtues, thereby showing how attentive he is to those around him and how much he values ​​​​those who help him) 

Although I’m not really a big fan of the prequel, and I also think some scenes from there are little...questionable, and how Sulley turned out different from the version from inc, but in GENERAL I can connect these two images together, I can understand why Sulley behaves this way (given his problems with family and self-esteem), and how in fact it fits with him as an adult.

I can also say that in general I like the way he is written in Monsters at work, despite the fact that he and Mike don’t play a special role for the series, I’m just glad that he act's like himself and hasn’t been spoiled, he’s still trying to make the right choices in life, dealing with a situation that he never even thought about or was ever prepared for, and I just like the little funny moments with him.

Of course, you can't do without *questionable scenes* and sins (and animation ")), but overall I'm quite pleased.

(and I noticed that the writers kinda combined his images from mu and mi, big fan of this decision)

Overall, we have an interesting, well-written protagonist, with excellent design, a great movie as a solo film, and even prequel/series as a good bonus.

Why I think his relationship with Boo is so beautifully written:

First of all, I like the way they met for the first time.

Namely, HOW Sulley reacted, because we know that children are not only *toxic* for monsters, they are literally consumables for them, without feelings, without any rights, which means do with them what you want, your conscience will not torture you.

But Sulley never harmed her, although he could have used any means to get rid of her, because at that time he did not perceive her as a *person*, and still acted with caution. Tried to calm her down, cheer her up, and even sang her a song before bed, although he shouldn’t have even tried?

He understands that she is a living being after all.

And he actually care about this *creature*, he himself decided to bring her home, stayed up all night making a costume for her, he even realized that she is a girl and referred to her correctly all the time, and not as a *thing* (even worried that she was in the men's locker room? ")).

I just love the fact that he treats Boo well INITIALLY, he doesn’t hate her, he doesn’t think she’s a burden that needs to be gotten rid of.

He truly begins to worry about her when he finally becomes attached, but even at the very beginning he treats her tenderly as possible. And it’s just very cute to watch how they gradually get closer and Sulley becomes more and more attached to her, which makes him openly ignore all the advices of his best friend, whom he listened to and supported unconditionally before. He begins to worry about her so much that he no longer pays attention to everything that happens around him, he doesn’t just want to get rid of her quickly, but wants to protect her and do everything possible so that she gets home safely, and does not end up in wrong hands. And this attachment became SO strong that he was ready to leave his friend alone in the human world, risk his life saving her, and he no longer cares about HIS position and condition, she became his number one priority, and this is very damn touching honesty.

And, of course, THAT ONE scene, key to Sulley's development as a character, a scene, where he accidentally scares Boo.

A moment, where his whole consciousness is turned upside down, all the experiences that he went through became meaningless, and the work to which he devoted his life turned out to be cruel exploitation, in addition, a huge feeling of guilt, which will be difficult to get rid of for a long time, and everything that was important in his life ceased to have value, everything except the safety of this one *thing*, the *thing* he shouldn't have felt anything for.

I really love this scene, it perfectly conveys the mood of what happened, when you feel pity, compassion and understanding for both sides.

(you'd think that Sulley stop scaring kids just because of this scene, but honestly? I’m more than sure that it would be difficult for him to do this after meeting Boo, after what he experienced with her, it would be difficult to continue working in this direction)

And one of the best details for me is the fact that this event does not remain without a trace for the characters, this experience has consequences, they don't just continue to live as if nothing happened, Sulley realize that people are also living individuals with feelings that should not suffer, as a result of which he not only changes himself, but also changes his environment for the better, considering that the majority simply will not understand him, he considers it his duty to do something to somehow change and influence the situation (even without the fact that the energy of laughter is stronger than scream), and never again connect his life with what he feels guilty about.

The final scene with them is also so touching. 

The way Sulley says goodbye to her, knowing that he will never see her again, everything he had to go through for one single moment.

Betrayal, discovery of a conspiracy, expulsion, a quarrel with a close friend, disappointment in himself and his life, he even almost lost his own life several times, and all this was experienced in order to bring home one little girl.

And I'm just sincerely glad that they didn't end there, all this time I wish I had seen at least a little short with them (because I just have to squeak with joy every time Boo is mentioned in the series :"))

I know that the first movie ended perfectly and there is no need for a sequel, but as a fan I’m too weak :)

Honestly, this is the shortest and most general “essay” I can write about him as a character, if I had my way (and enough strength/knowledge in english) I would describe every key scene with him.

So, that’s all, I'm glad I was able to express my thoughts about a character that is important to me, at least in this format, and if you read to the end, thank you for your attention! 💙💜

(still waiting for a full-fledged sequel from Pixar and hope that it will come out acceptable...)

[jjkyaoi]

i feel like chloe and max having relationship problems makes a LOT of sense considering everything the two of them went through, and max sacrificing arcadia bay would 100% be a huge one of them. especially considering chloe lost her mother to that. it’s a decision max made to save her, but regardless. all of their troubles r incredibly realistic but you lost me at chloe dumping her for VICTORIA CHASE. like?????? it’s like they completely forgot every single aspect of what makes chloe chloe. yes they would be rocky but she would fight for her, just like how she fought for her hope and love of rachel still being out there. like. she is incredibly loyal and not once in the original games did she even fuck with victoria. i’m less mad about them breaking up and more mad abt the character assassination of chloe

[sonarsunbeam]

couple of mushroom guys for the funsies. sons and father (hearthands emoji)

[flossingh]

Devastating to realise that you absolutely can not under any circumstances reference any of Solas' other motivations or cause the player to understand his reasoning without the entire game crumbling into individual ones and zeroes before your eyes.

[timemachineyeah]

I think in the next Animal Crossing, you should have to earn your control over the environment. And I don’t just mean working to get terraforming, I mean, like, earning it before getting to decide where other people’s homes are and stuff.

Idk, the deserted island is fun but I kind of hope in the next one we’re back to being a new face in an already established rural community. And you can still progress to moving absolutely everything on the map and decorating each square foot and flower to your liking, but, like… these other people have lives of their own.

I like knowing a rando isn’t gonna move onto my carefully curated flowerbed and ruin my path, but I don’t like how much the villagers in ACNH feel like fashion accessories rather than neighbors.

[froschli96]

you know, i always find it really funny when dudebros complain about syndicate and odyssey being too "jokey" or not "taking its characters seriously" or whatever…

like, did y'all collectively sleep through "it's-a me, mario!", "i meant besides vaginas", ezio inventing the latte, bartolomeo's... just... *gestures vaguely* entire character, etc?

like, it's fine to have preferences of course, i myself prefer a more serious and grounded tone, but these are usually the same people who tout the ezio trilogy as "peak assassin's creed", call ac1 a glorified tech demo and hate on connor for being "too serious and boring", like? make it make sense!

[foodlesoodlesdoodles]

modern crossover aus are truly something because I feel like all of these gothic men are a single thread away from having the craziest gay sex imaginable and we’re just lucky it was a bed this time