#utopia spoilers

[garydsketch]

happy 10th anniversary utopia, you will never get another series

[alisha-on-arcane]

I just realised something. Initially it annoyed me a little that AU Powder doesn't seem to have psychosis. Which Powder had on the bridge!

But no, Ekko had a bad reaction and threw a tool at Powder, then Benzo comes in and... they both laugh it off? "Oi, one of those days huh?" "You know those ugly twins. Genius and madness!"

...they're all used to working around Powder's psychosis, aren't they? She's okay because multiple people are helping her to understand what's real and what isn't, and not blaming her for being unsure. And they're automatically doing the same for Ekko.

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - Scala ad Caelum

[egophiliac]

I have never been more concerned for a JP update from your art than I am seeing a Cheka knowing the context of Leona’s dream.

My bois ok right?????? My sweet nephews ok right??????

well

uhhhh

I'm sure the real one is fine :)

[lanschpaket]

Appreciation for our lord and savior! Do you have a little time to spare to talk about our lord and savior Arcane Jesus Viktor? Vander apparently rejected him and his truths

[mwagneto]

my power to recognise any doctor who episode based on any screenshot finally comes in handy at the sutekh landing montage coz im losing my MINDDDDDDD HIIIIIIII 3x11 UTOPIA MENTIONED!!!!!!!!!! EPIC FUCKING REFERENCE

[maelancoli]

i'm kind of late to this but i just finished reading the scholomance trilogy by naomi novik and i feel like it is such an underrated urban fantasy?? taking the chosen one trope and turning it on its head with a fmc who has been prophesied to bring death and destruction, who is imbued with terrible power, but cannot even properly use said power to solve any of her obstacles because it would obliterate them and her soul. it takes a tired trope and the idea of an 'overpowered mary sue' and throws it back in your face by showing how all the power and destiny in the world is useless against a system filled with corruption that has burdened you with an easy way out (evil/destructive magic) that you can't take so now you have to work twice as hard as everyone else just to do simple, constructive spells instead of flicking your wrist and being done with it.

[smilingaspera]

I found extremely funny that Carla’s first reaction was thinking the Doctor abandoned Ruby here and there because that is EXACTLY what the Doctor does BUT not to Ruby because she’s BLONDE

[yloiseconeillants]

and yes in case you're wondering i do subject the discord to my waffling critique of every city in this game's urban design

the lopporit zone is a personal affront to me thank you ffxiv for effectively communicating how FUCKED it would be for literally any human-shaped creature to live there.

[omnis-hostis-resurrexit]

The Light of Absent Eyes

Vander has taken to visiting Ekko's mural on quiet evenings. Without the oppressive haze of the grey, Zaun's nights are colder than they used to be. Silco, ever observant, brings him his sweater. Sentimental shenanigans ensue.

Read on AO3

Rating: T for mild smut

Tags: Silco/Vander, S2 Utopia AU, Fluff, Old men being sappy and cute, Multiverse-Typical OOC

Word Count: 2110

Without early winter's chill in the air, Silco thought, this place would smell intolerably swampy. A few browning lilypads still clung to the surface of the pool, and a carpet of the giant ginkgo tree's shed leaves slid and squished under his boots as he made his way through the water. Dusk barely filtered down into the abandoned reservoir, and the only clear light came from a cluster of mismatched candles in front of the mural of a young woman's face. A young woman with fiery red hair and a fighter's wraps on her hands. A young woman whose expressions made her look by turns angry and angular, soft and smiling, and utterly at home in her own skin.

A young woman Silco had never met, and never would.

"Missed me that much, eh?" Vander was leaning against one of the mossy concrete pipes that littered the reflecting pool, and his voice echoed off the metal walls around them.

"Were you gone?" Silco asked with a mocking tilt of his head, slinging Vander's thick, much-mended cardigan off his shoulders and holding it out toward him. "You shouldn't be wandering around the fissures this time of night in your shirtsleeves."

"Yeah, alright, mum," Vander said with a good-humored roll of his eyes as he shrugged his arms into the sweater. In the poor light, Powder's riotously-colored darning washed out to a shadowy camouflage around the cuffs and elbows like flashes of unpolished ore emerging from the mud-brown yarn.

"I'm serious. Winter's getting colder every year since they redid the air filters," he said, wrapping his arms across his chest and burrowing his chin further into his scarf as he settled himself next to Vander on the concrete pipe. "Not that I miss the grey, mind, but I'm beginning to understand the topsiders' penchant for hats and gloves and twenty-seven petticoats at a time."

"Oh?" Vander reached over to twine a finger absently through the fringe on Silco's scarf. "Is that why a pallet of Shuriman cashmere shawls fell off the back of an airship straight into the upstairs storage closet?"

"Just reading the market, darling. Remember our deal," he said as he gently unwound Vander's hand and held it in his own. "You don't stick your nose into my perfectly legitimate import-export business, and I don't complain that you still don't put enough bitters in an Old Fashioned."

"I did agree to that, didn't I." He shook his head and settled his hand comfortably on Silco's knee. Wind sighed across the mouth of the reservoir far above, scattering a grace of golden leaves across them. Vander looked up into the branches, one fan-shaped leaf caught against his hair.

It pulled at something in Silco's chest, the thin thread between them that had been cut and re-tied against all better judgment, frayed and worn and haphazardly repaired again and again. Stronger at the mended places, he thought as he plucked the leaf between his fingers and quietly slipped it into his shirt pocket.

He didn't know how long Vander had been here communing with this uncanny vision of his dead child, older and more fully-formed than she'd ever been in life. His girl, his Violet, his fierce little firecracker, and Felicia's and Connol's before that. Never really Silco's. He was an infrequent visitor to their cramped little rooms under the old water tower, while her parents lived. And after? Forgiveness refused to be rushed, it took its own hard-bitten time, and time in Zaun always had casualties.

"She's definitely Connol's work, no mistaking that," he commented as he drew one leg up, perching on the dry moss. "The one on the far left? Tell me that's not exactly the scowl he'd give every scab who walked past us on the picket line."

Vander chuckled and shook his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Gods, he was a force of nature, eh? Always the quiet ones."

"Hmm," Silco nodded. "They made an odd pair. I always thought he grounded her a bit. Not always a bad thing." He pressed the side of his leg against Vander's warmth and felt him shift closer.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Vander gave him a brief sidelong glance. "What else is different over there. Who else might've…" He dropped his head slightly, and his grip on Silco's hand tightened.

"Been spared?" A corner of Silco's mouth contracted, and he squeezed Vander's hand in return. "We were children of Zaun when that meant even odds we wouldn't live to lose our milk-teeth," he said, his voice tempered by something like remorse. "Who knows if any of us survived to see her at that age?"

Vander made a soft grumbling sound in the back of his throat. "The way Ekko talked, sounds like I never did learn to give a good apology. The other Ekko, I mean. Her Ekko." He tilted his head toward the mural.

Silco tucked a strand of Vander's hair behind his ear and saw how the candlelight glimmered in his eyes. "Sounds like I was never smart enough to let you try until you got it right. I would have been a great fool to walk away and leave all this on the table."

His fingers strayed to the back of Vander's neck, warming under the smooth blanket of his hair. Every silver strand still felt like victory to him, a shining thread of resistance against the years of want and days of ash and blood.

Vander leaned into his touch, and his breaths deepened. "That your way of saying it's time to head home?"

"It is where we keep our bed, for better or worse," Silco murmured as he gently scraped his nails over the base of Vander's skull, just to feel him shudder.

Vander turned, placing himself between Silco's legs and sliding his hands slowly and firmly along them, pulling him closer. "Since when did we need a bed?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his lips to Silco's with a gentle familiarity that did little to hide the underlying hunger. Silco clutched at him, hid his hands under the warm wool, strained to twine his calves against the backs of Vander's thighs. The cold air around them seemed to hone every exposed edge, every shirt-hem lifted, every collar drawn aside. It made the warmth of Vander's skin even more precious and ever more urgent.

They kissed like drowning men with something true to live for, lips and tongues a sliding, driven dance, Vander's hand at the small of his back, both increasingly ravenous for the other's heat. Vander bit gingerly at Silco's lower lip as he sucked it into his mouth, and Silco swallowed back the needy sound that threatened to leave his throat. He scraped a fingernail over Vander's nipple through his shirt, provoking a low and blissfully undignified whimper.

Never let it be said that Silco didn't give as good as he got.

Vander's thumb was toying with one of the brass buttons on Silco's trousers, making maddeningly patient little circles that just barely grazed the head of his cock through the stiff twill. "S'alright?" He breathed into Silco's ear, just a shade of hesitation in his words.

Silco's breath hitched, and he put his hand on top of Vander's, stilling them both. In an instant, Vander had gently tilted out of Silco's embrace and propped himself one hip against the mossy concrete, his other hand still resting on Silco's ribcage.

"Happy to take my time, you know," he offered. "You could wear my sweater if you're cold." He couldn't see the tentative smile on Vander's face in the dark, but he could hear it. He couldn't hear the concerned little line between Vander's eyebrows, but he knew it was there.

"No, it's not — it's fine, Vander. It's not you." He leaned forward and tucked his cold fingers under the waistband of Vander's trousers, nodding toward the mural. "I just can't shake the feeling we're being watched."

Vander let out a breath that sounded relieved, and clouded in the air. "Well, I can't say my knees aren't grateful," he said with a subtle lilt of laughter, dragging one heavy boot through the limestone gravel beneath it. He held one hand out, and Silco slid down from the concrete pipe into his arms.

"Don't go making them any promises," Silco said, pressing himself closer, hands flush with Vander's chest. "Plenty of dark and relatively dry alcoves between here and the Drop. You might get your chance yet." He patted one hand in joking reassurance and pulled away with languid steps, heading toward the tunnel mouth.

Vander's answering low laugh was a banked coal, deep in the belly. "Relatively dry, hm?" He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You really know how to show a fella a good time."

"So you keep telling me," he said, the scars on his cheek straining against the slow, vulpine smile that overtook his face in the dark.

He stood at the edge of the water while Vander put out the candles under the mural, one gentle hand lingering on Vi's painted hair for a moment. Silco might have heard a murmured g'night, love in the gathering dark. He must have heard it. Nothing else explained the swell of sentiment that rose beneath his sternum for a breath.

Vander slung his arm across Silco's shoulders, and they fell into step as they sloshed back toward the tunnel. Its inky depth was broken only by a thin trace of glow-chalk on one wall — Powder's helpful contribution, a new invention she was justifiably proud of. Its light pulsed faintly in time with the hollow sound of their even steps.

And if their youngest cast a skeptical eye at the smear of chalk across the back of Silco's jacket, or looked askance at the mud on Vander's knees before he hid them conveniently behind the bar? Well. There were worse things out there than two old rabble-rousers having a nostalgic fuck in a forgotten corner of the infrastructure.

As Silco stood by the back counter and made them both a proper cocktail, still loose-limbed and supple with fading afterglow, he pondered over all his hard-won blessings. How many did the other Silco have? Useless thought, but there it was.

Had he already died an ignominious, lonely death? Died young? Been cut down in his prime, coughing up blood until he drowned in it, like so many of their comrades from the mines? Lived still, driven by spite and distrust, fighting for every scrap until a violent end became inevitable? It didn't bear imagining. Not standing here in the warm light of the Last Drop, two full glasses in his hands, gazing at his partner's broad back as he pulled another pint of lager.

"There you are, love." He sat one glass on the counter near the taps. "That one's yours."

Vander handed the pints off to Gert with practiced efficiency and picked up his drink, reflexively wiping a wet ring from the counter with the bar towel. Behind him, a table of academy students boisterously toasted Live forever!, leaving a careless shower of suds in their wake.

"Now that's a prayer for bad luck if I've ever heard one," Silco mused, swirling the liquid in his glass.

Vander gave him a thin smile and cast his eyes briefly over his shoulder. "At their age, anything feels possible. Even in Zaun."

Silco rested his drink against his breastbone, looking aside in a satire of shame. "Gods, what am I like. You'll tell me, won't you, if I become one of those hideous old men who can't stop going on about how the younger generation's gone soft? Just say the word, and I'll give Powder a length of piano wire and tell her I hate her haircut."

"Oh, now I definitely won't tell you," Vander replied, his smile broadening into something genuine and bubbling under the surface. "Besides, someone has to teach these young'uns what their city's made of."

Silco raised his glass. "Blisters and bedrock?"

There was a warm shadow in Vander's eyes as he clicked the worn gold rims of their glasses together and returned the age-old toast. He held Silco's gaze longer than usual, looking at him as if he was something Vander couldn't bear to lose, someone he couldn't imagine living without. And for a moment, Silco felt the terrible, dizzying weight of the trust he'd placed in this man. The other Silco — Vi's Silco — would no doubt scoff, and fume about the catastrophic foolishness of his choice. In any other timeline, he'd be right.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

[dandelionjack]

alright well maybe my first review last night was too harsh but i still stand by my words that utopia + army of ghosts + bad wolf + the stolen earth all hold up as individual standalone exciting episodes with character development and conflict, worldbuilding, a real sense of place and time — the legend of ruby sunday felt like an exposition dump copypasted straight out of the tardis wiki with an uninteresting setting, uninspired direction and all in service of a lead-up towards what? a cheap anagram reveal of a one-off villain from 1975 whose motivations don’t stretch far beyond “kill everyone now because i’m evil and bad”.

don’t you dare compare it to utopia. utopia is one of the best, most nuanced and layered episodes of the entire show.

i feel like russell has been replaced by a zygon.

[alisha-on-arcane]

Episode 7 - Silco's Zaun or Vander's undercity?

We all love "Pretend Like It's The First Time", right. But there's two ways of interpreting it, and I like one better... 1. This is Silco's Zaun. At some point, possibly right after Vi's death, he got Vander back on side for his revolution. Using Silco's unethical but very effective methods, they got freedom for Zaun and it worked out pretty well for everyone. Silco runs the place but he's trying to hand responsibility on to the next generation, and it's sufficiently easy a job now that at 5pm every day his adoring husband knows to have a post-work cocktail ready for him. 2. This is Vander's undercity. At some point Silco went back to Vander - maybe he got the letter, stormed into the bar to yell at Vander, and Vander poured him the best liquor and let him continue yelling for three hours. At which point he fell into Vander's arms and bed and has been there ever since. No more Shimmer, no more unethical methods or exploiting Lanes kids like Deckard, he's Nice Now and talks about forgiveness. It doesn't matter that the undercity isn't free, it is clean and safe and prosperous and they're happy together in it.

In both cases this appears to also improve the weather, with Mylo, Claggor, Heimerdinger, Powder and Ekko working on poison absorption and air cleanup technology (I love that).

I like 1 better, of course - I think it fits better with the season 1 themes of there being things worth fighting for. But... we don't see any Zaun symbols or flags, as far as I can tell, and only a few hints of Shimmer colour (like the lanterns over Ekko and Powder). It doesn't even really look like Zaun - the glass is a Piltover-style glass, the people don't look that rough and vibrant, they're having a cute competition.

Also Silco seems to be drinking from his hipflash initially. I know the hipflask is a symbol of zaundads understanding, but it's odd to be using a hipflask in your own house if you're a person of importance and responsibility. Also, he's lost his trademark Shimmer eye, hopefully because he has better medicine in this AU but if not... (At least he got Vander to dress properly. As soon as I saw Vander in this AU I thought "ohhh is that the influence of- ") The second option... well I can see how they could leave that open for the Silco-haters and extreme centrists. But it's a bit darker, isn't it. I am also wondering what exactly Vander did to get and keep Silco that... pliant.

[bluesyjean]

Do you ever sit around and think “well, if nothing else at least Leonard Peabody/Harold Jenkins is alive and well in the final timeline.”

Thank goodness they defeated the family who made everyone the worst versions of themselves.

[mettywiththenotes]

"Stick your head in the dirt if you want, but this fantasy you've been living out here, it's not going to last forever." Sevika to Jinx who refuses to make a return

"Very well, but I assume you understand already that if you perish, this commune is soon to follow." Singed to Viktor who refuses to keep living at the cost of another's life

Just some interesting quotes that seemed similar to me

[cactiaintracist]

Outside the TARDIS when it’s getting flung to the end of the universe in Utopia:

[lanschpaket]

Vi appreciation post, cause daaaaaamn can we talk about her looks?

(It's just stills from S02E06, might make more from other episodes)

But also, she has been through so fucking much and then this episode happens?!?!? LIKE MAKING UP WITH HER SISTER, HOPE FOR HER DAD, CHILLING FOR A MODERATE AMOUNT OF TIME, MEETING CAITLYN AGAIN AND DOWNING AMBESSA??

shhhh we talk about the good things and not what happened at the end shhhh