#However in the end he himself falls under the distribution

[breadmecoshy]

He finally found a real family

Old lady: Oh, Bruno, darling, what good fellows you and your kids are! It's been so quiet on the streets lately! Apparently, God favors us

Narancia: WHAHAHAHA, you blew like a sucker, Giorno!

Giorno: DAMN IT! If I had been there, they wouldn't have had a chance!

Giorno: Fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Holy shit, Mista! Why did you bother them at all?!

Mista: Sorry man💦

Someone: WHERE DID THESE ASSHOLES GO?!

Moviе: Gus: What's great about dating homeless girls? Murphy: What? Gus: You can drop them off anywhere.

Abbachio: Ugly.

Giorno: I don't like it either.

Giorno: What if our world is a simulation, like in the Matrix? Well, I mean, you also sometimes sit down, and just turns off for 40 minutes? What does it look like?

Fugo: Well, yes, it happens...

Giorno: And?

Fugo: It looks like.... Reboot the system.....

Fugo: ....fuuuuuuuuck

Fugo: man

¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯

In the end, Giorno is really just an ordinary teenager, and he deserves a family that will love him despite his harmfulness

After the appearance of another child in the gang, Bruno decided to buy a new PS2, but eventually it was occupied by Narancia and Giorno

Giorno and Mista usually hang around the city and look for new places or entertainment. But, since Mista is a master of creating problems for himself from scratch, most often they find only trouble on their heads

Leone and Giorno like to watch movies together (mainly because apart from Bruno, no one else can make Leone a decent company). They watched "3000 Miles to Graceland" at the cinema, and they didn't like it XD

Giorno and Fugo's conversations are similar to all those conspiracy theories in which the events of the film are actually the dying delirium of the protagonist. Recently, they watched the Matrix with the whole gang, so the conversations of these two acquired a very specific topic

Bruno usually takes Giorno with him to patrol the streets and communicate with the townspeople. And, of course, Giorno does not steal from old ladies, he just likes to tease Bruno

[onyourowndaisymae]

when solomon falls in love

content + warnings: solomon x reader, angst with a happy ending, there is a deep sadness within solomon but i can fix him, minor discussions of s3 plot points // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.5k

the day solomon realizes he's in love with you is the worst day of his life, he thinks, in the first moment he realizes.

solomon's had a lot of terrible days. from simple ones-- caught in the rain, misplaced keys, harsh words spoken by people he cares about-- to life-altering, fate-changing hellish days. he's been around for centuries, and admittedly conjured himself up some pretty shitty karma. this day, however, tops the list.

because the moment solomon realizes he's in love with you is the moment he realizes he'll never have you.

it's a rare moment the both of you are sharing. the two of you are alone in a coffee shop in some quaint corner of the human realm. your trials with the sorcerer society have been wearing on you, so solomon saw it fitting to sweep his adorable little apprentice away for some well-deserved down time.

it's dawn here. sunlight peaks through the clouds, painting the gray skies a vibrant orange through the shop's large windows. the sunlight tickles your cheekbones, occasionally catching your eyes and making them flutter as you dodge the blinding sunbeams. how long has it been since solomon's seen you in the daylight? the devildom is beautiful, but it's dark and dim during all hours of the day. he's used to seeing you under city lights, shop signs and advertisements in neon colors dancing across your features. or under the warm-but-artificial house lights in all the buildings down there, cozy but not quite the same. no, you look best in daylight. golden, pure daylight, trickling through the cosmos just so he can see every detail on your face.

he wants to memorize you. he wants to etch your features into his brain so that he'll be able to remember you far into the future. the coming days are uncertain. licensure into the sorcerer's society is not exactly easy-- you'll have your work cut out for you if you continue down this path. maybe somewhere along the way you'll find yourself content instead with a simple life in the human realm, shedding the devildom like a winter coat in spring when your life begins a new chapter. he's always worried about you, about losing you, about a day when you'll bid him goodbye for good. obsessive? he likes to think of it as "sentimental". and he's never been this sentimental for anyone else but you.

you take a sip of your drink with a small smile. it's cold outside, the subtle chill of autumn beginning to fade into the biting cold of winter. the drink in your hands is warm, and you cup it between your between your palms for warmth. he smiles. his own drink is smooth and a little bitter. solomon he grabs the last sugar packet from the center of the table and dumps it in, swirling the mixture around the distribute the sweetness. then he folds the trash into a compact ball. there's a dink! as he flicks it at you, hitting your cheek gently before it falls onto the table. you laugh at his antics. it's the best sound he's ever heard.

"gotcha."

"what are you, seven?"

"you're just mad i have good aim."

"yeah, yeah, whatever, old man. do... do you mind if i ask you a question?"

"anything."

you proceed to ask him how he found this place. technically, it's not even in the country you're from... he laughs and explains how he found it. he likes when your attention is focused all in on him. your eyes get this certain glint to them as you listen, like he's the only person you care about in that moment. he'd kill to see that look anywhere else-- could you imagine the faces of the demon brothers should you look at him so attentively around them?

solomon swallows down the lump of jealousy rising in his throat. that's the thing. you don't look at him like that in front of anyone else.

his next sip of coffee tastes bitter, more so than before-- he can't blame the shop, nor the sugar packet for the taste, but instead the acid creeping up his throat from the mere displeasure of the idea. it's so very solomon to ruin his own good time with a nasty thought.

why?

why does he do this to himself? to cherish something so delicate even though he knows it will shatter under the weight of life's circumstances?

that's because solomon's in love with you. and love doesn't always listen to reason.

he has toyed around with the idea of loving you for awhile. he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to always be the petulant, lost child he once was, always reaching for things he was never destined to have. when he was young, he craved freedom. as an adult, power. and now, further along in his life, he wants you.

you seem to notice the sour look on his face. your eyebrows furrow as you ask him what's wrong. it's instinct that guides him to brush you off, to give you a big smile and feign attention into whatever you begin talking about next.

does he deserve you? probably not. his sins probably outweigh that of any lower demon. he's lied and cheated, fucked people over in ways unimaginable to someone like you. you're a blank slate, a clean ledger, yet to ruin your own life. or maybe you won't. you've always been better than him that way.

will he ever distance himself to heal from the wounds of unrequited love? probably not. he'll stick by your side as you inevitably choose one of the demon brothers or angels or royals over him-- he won't blame you. of all the fascinating people you've met, he understands the allure of a human like him is dim in comparison. no hard feelings. he can't ever seem to muster up anything sour towards you.

"are you listening?" you finally ask, loud enough to grab his attention. he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

"sorry. i'm... a bit scatterbrained today. what were you saying?"

you huff. "i was telling you a story, but i bent my straw too far and it broke."

you bend it again to show him the damage. sure enough, it's snapped under the weight of your fidgeting. solomon's lips curl into a sympathetic pout.

"i can grab you another."

"nah, it's okay. i've got it."

you rise from your seat and walk to the counter of the coffee place. solomon takes a deep breath and steals his resolve. all this self-loathing and pining is making him a bad friend, and you deserve much better than to talk to a brick wall. he sighs. so what if he's in love with you? so what if he's lost in the tumult of his own feelings? he needs to get it together and enjoy this time with you before you return to the devildom, and he has to share you aga--

"excuse me?"

"yes? how can i help you?"

"can i get another straw? oh, and can i get some more of those little sugar packets? my boyfriend used the last one on the table."

"of course! give me one moment--"

...

what?

his brain almost completely shuts down hearing those words leave your lips. he subtly looks around to see if anyone else is in the coffee shop-- there's a man in the corner reading his paper and two teenagers huddled over iced coffee. no, none of them are at your table, using the last sugar packet like he did, your boyfriend--

"close your mouth. you're attracting flies," you say quietly, sliding a few sugar packets over to him.

he's... flabbergasted, honestly. during the entirety of his downward spiral, never once did he anticipate this outcome. you... you wanted him?

his lips pull into a smirk-- it's more of a grin than he wanted, but he just can't help himself right now. he's damn near giddy at your indirect confession.

"boyfriend? you wouldn't happen to be referring to me, would you?"

"that's why you brought me here, right?"

that question catches him off-guard. honestly, no. he just wanted some time to breathe with you, without obligations or demons ready to pounce for your attention. but the way your lips curl around the straw between them makes his heart race.

"... and if i did?"

"then i would say this is a pretty good date spot. now, pay attention when i talk, old man."

as attentive as he aims to be, he just can't stop his mind from wandering. you're his. all of the fear and angst wash away as the sun shines brightly on your table, illuminating the delicate wood grain beneath his trembling fingers. and for once, solomon doesn't worry about what will happen if he lets himself love you.

maybe this day isn't so bad after all.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset

[robiin-draws]

Team BEST character analysis

I am so normal about Team BEST So normal in fact that I wrote a whole character analysis about them

Anyway! We all know that Team BEST fell apart partway through LL, and was never able to repair itself. Let's start at the person who I think was the route of this problem…

Bdubs:

In Last Life, Bdubs is reckless. He makes a reckless deal that gets him down to yellow and then dies. He manages to get a life back, but then he dies again. This time it's Tango who needs to give him a life, but then he kills Tango, which is pretty much the start of their downfall. And on that subject…

Tango:

I may be biased because I love my little fire guy so much but lets look at it. Tango was used. He was used to give a life to Scar to save their base and to stop Scar from killing his team, he was used to get Bdubs off red, he was used to get Bdubs cured from the Boogeyman curse, and he lost his yellow life saving his team from a TnT minecart. Some of these were his decision, some were peer pressure, and some weren't his fault at all. Tango only actually died in Last Life three times, despite having six lives, and one was to his teammate. He gave THREE away, and even called himself a 'life dispenser' (which I'm so normal about btw. It makes me so sad.) Now, the player that pressured him to give so many in the first place…

Etho:

I don't have many thoughts on Etho specifically, mostly just on his relationships with people in the team. However, he does pressure Tango to give away life after life for the good of the team. He also is the one to send Bdubs on the mission to kill another red instead of giving him a life (a little hypocritical, isn't it?) And now the leader of the team…

Skizz:

Skizz is trying to lead a team that's falling apart at the seams. He tries to calm Tango down after Bdubs' Boogey kill, he tries to unite the team, but fails. And at the end of everything, they don't give him a life when he goes red, even though they did for Bdubs. And yet he's positive through everything, and he really does try, but can't stop his team from falling apart in the end.

And that's just the characters on their own! I haven't even started on the duo dynamics! Oh gosh this is gonna be long- Let's start with Ethdubs, shall we?

Etho and Bdubs are close in LL. Etho has an INCREDIBLE Bdubs bias in everything, and yet isn't quite willing to sacrifice his own lives for his best friend. They were initially teamed before Skizz and Tango reached out, and I honestly can't decide if they were better or worse off for that fact. They had plans, and they were good plans! But in the end, Bdubs is red and Etho is green, and Etho can't bring himself to give Bdubs a life just yet. Instead, he tells Bdubs that if he can kill another red name, he'll give him that green life. And Bdubs does, and Bdubs is ready for the life, but before he can get it he dies. It's Etho's fault really, and I think he knows it.

And now the other side of BEST, Skizz and Tango. They were friends immediately, within the first ten minutes, even. They met up just after the lives were distributed. They had plans, they made the Rocktopus together, although it became abandoned later. They joked, they had fun, and they were honest with each other. They cared. It doesn't stop Skizz from taking Bdubs' side on the Boogey kill matter (although it was mostly just an attempt to stop Tango from killing Bdubs on the spot and leaving) and I think that is when things go south in their relationship. When Skizz goes red, there's physically no way they can be friends anymore. The whole conversation they have in the cave under the Rocktopus makes me insane. Tango asks Skizz why he's stealing the sugarcane, hurt that he would take it after they planted it together. Skizz replied with "Look at my eyes buddy! They're red! My hair's red and all I see is BLOOD!" Tango says "I'm done! I'm done with you." afterward. Then Skizz drops some iron on the floor (the item Tango needed) and says "For old time's sake" which Tango takes and replies with something along the lines of "Is that all our relationship is now? Old times?" And Skizz says "You've always got a spot in my heart." They make me go so insane I'm sorry. Skizz also singles out Tango on one of his visits to the Snow Fort to steal stuff and tells him "I do miss ya buddy". He doesn't say this to Etho or Bdubs, just Tango. They want each other BADDD but they're in a death game and one is seeing red. It just wouldn't be safe.

Now Tango and Bdubs, they guys you've been waiting for! It's getting later in the game and Tango is on his fifth life (his 6th was given to Cleo) when Scar attacks the Snow Fort and threatens to blow it up. Now keep in mind that this isn't even Tango's base, his is the Rocktopus, but he's pressured into giving away his fifth life to save not only the Snow Fort, but Bdubs is getting chased down by Scar, so he gives a life to save his teammate, and it won't be the last time. When Bdubs dies to Mumbo's boogey kill, he's again asked to give up a life, putting him on his third. At this point, he's calling himself a life dispenser (please it makes me so sad) Tango cares about Bdubs, but not enough to willingly give him lives (he was peer pressured) and Bdubs cares about Tango, but not enough to spare him from a boogey kill. And that boogey kill, ohhhh that boogey kill. Tango gets hit and immediately knows what's happening. He runs, but can't get away from Bdubs. When he wakes up, he is MAD. And I mean MAD. Tango rage sounds like heavy breathing and laughter through gritted teeth, and that is exactly what he sounded like. He's the first person to literally see red in a life series, despite not actually being red at the time. Bdubs insists that he had to, that he doesn't understand, and I think this quote sums up Tango's feelings about the situation "No I don't get it! I'm never Boogeyman, I'm just a life dispenser." When he says it his voice even breaks a little on 'I'm just a life dispenser.' which breaks ME- For the rest of the series, Tango is constantly making jabs at Bdubs for the incident and even tries to hire Scar to kill him. Aka Tango and Bdubs already didn't have a very good relationship and then Bdubs messed it up worse.

And now we have Tango and Etho, the last extremely important pairing. Once again, there's the life dispenser thing. The lives were often to save Bdubs, but it's Etho who pressured Tango into giving them. They make jabs at each other even before the Bdubs incident, and afterwards, it gets worse. Someone will come over on a yellow or even green name and Etho will jokingly tell Tango to give them a life (seems a little cruel if you ask me) even when Tango has less lives than he does. Aka he's just kinda mean (and I love him for it)

Conclusion of this essay: Bdubs and Etho are not good for each other and really mean to Tango. Skizz is trying to lead a broken team, and Tango is a life dispenser. They are not healthy for each other in the slightest but that's why they're so interesting!

[netherese-blorb]

For You

(View on ao3)

SFW (Teen) - Gale loves you more than anything. and isn���t that just terrifying.

None of you left the Shadowlands whole. Yet even among your ragged bunch, the shift you see in Gale has you worried.

It could just be your closeness that makes him stand out. Not that you don’t love the others, in their own ways. But you spent weeks studying Gale as the two of you danced your clumsy courting dance. If his shoulders sloped a hair lower than usual, or if the skin under his eyes darkened half a shade, you would notice.

Your knowledge is wasted, however, as even the least astute at camp could see that he wasn’t himself. At first, it was a general anxiety. He would flinch every time he saw the sky, as if he expected it to fall, or for a bolt to come down and smite him where he stood. Then, as he realized the ground beneath him wouldn’t give way, his dread turned to manic obsession: with the Crown of Karsus, and with you.

Through his unending monologues about the artifact’s potential, he couldn’t let you leave his sight. Not for a moment. In the rare times when you insisted on privacy, he would keep conversation through the door, or tent flap, or bush, working himself into an immediate panic if he felt it’d been too long since he heard you.

So far you’ve been more than willing to accommodate his attentions. You’ve been through a lot yourself, after all, and tending to him has been a welcome distraction.

But after defeating the Githyanki ambush, you know - he knows - it can’t go on like this.

You knew it was a risk, coming within melee range of a fully armored enemy. But the surprise attack didn’t give you time to prepare your ranged spells and your final target was weak enough that, if you were lucky, you could finish him off with one swing of your newly acquired magic sword.

But you weren’t lucky. Your unpracticed movements were clumsy and your shimmering blade skittered uselessly off of pristine silver armor, leaving you wide open for your foe’s much more experienced counterattack.

You heard Gale’s desperate shouts long before you registered the pain of the blow.

You turned to him as you staggered back and saw his twisted expression illuminated by the sparks growing between his hands.

Lightening Bolt. Your eyes dart to Shadowheart, who was struggling to maintain concentration through her own injuries.

And standing in the direct path of Gale’s attack.

He’s not looking at her. He doesn’t see. Nothing in his once-gentle face but blind fear and blind fury.

You manage to counterspell his move just before it can reach its unintended target. Shadowheart startles and whips around to Gale, who returns her horrified expression. With everyone, including your enemy, distracted, Astarion is able to deal a final sneak attack with his crossbow and put the battle to an end.

Little is said in the moments after it's over; a few healing words to stitch wounds back together, simple instructions to ensure loot is distributed, but the long walk back to camp begins and ends in silence.

It’s only hours later, when all of you are settled around the fire, that Astarion finally breaks the quiet tension.

“I still can’t wrap my head around what you could have possibly been thinking, Wizard.”

Having not found a wine to his liking this evening, he instead jangled a bottle of rum in his hand, using it to gesture with only some of his usual grace towards Shadowheart, “I trust you’re aware that’s our only healer you almost disintegrated.”

Shadowheart is still staring silently into the fire, sitting with her arms gently holding her knees to her chest.

Given the time he’d had to prepare, you’d expected Gale to have his most eloquent response at the ready. But only stammers came to him:

“I didn’t-” He thinks better of his phrasing, “Gods, there wasn’t -”

“He was just trying to protect me, Astarion,” You try to interject.

“Leaving you to protect us from him.” Shadowheart’s voice is quiet. She doesn’t look up from the fire.

Us , she said. Not me.

Astarion, in contrast, is all petulance and venom when he turns his focus on you. “Don’t you start. I refuse to endure another moment of your coddling, and I certainly won’t take lectures from the fool who thought to impress by playing with a sword she’s never used!”

He stands so he can look down at you, “Pretty a thing as it is, dear, access to your cunt is a pitiful excuse for friendly fire.”

“I think you’ve had enough.” Gale cuts in exasperatedly and stands, extending a hand toward the elf’s near-empty bottle.

Gale’s movements are slow and his words have no edge to them, yet for the briefest moment, you see panic flash across Astarion’s face. His familiar sneer quickly replaces it, but he makes no effort to have the last word. He shoves the rum into Gale’s hands before stalking off to his tent. Gale deflates and sighs sadly. As he sits, he offers the remnants of the bottle to Shadowheart, but she won’t meet his gaze.

For long minutes, there is nothing. The day’s second silence.

They’re afraid of him, you realize. Surely they know it was an honest mistake? It wasn’t like none of them had ever gotten caught in the crossfire of battle before. Every fighter in your group was guilty of the occasional reckless cleave attack. Hells, Shadowheart openly threatened Lae’zel at knifepoint and the two had talked it out by morning. And obviously, death is unpleasant, but with Withers always at hand, it’s hardly permanent.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Shadowheart.” Gale says, finally finding his words.

Shadowheart stands and looks strong, though her eyes are still unfocused.

“I know you are. Although I’m not of a mind to forgive quite yet. I just upended everything to escape My La-”

a breath.

“…Shar’s push towards darkness and pain. Yet you would have given me both today, left to your own devices. That can’t be fixed with a kind word.”

You see Gale's brows knit together. You watch the journey of his face as he makes the same realization you did, and keep the same arguments to himself.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I lost myself.”

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Shadowheart’s misty eyes suddenly focus and her quiet control slips ever-so-slightly.

“And what about before, in Moonrise? You were ready to take our lives into your own hands and blow us up with you. Did you stop because you considered for even a moment how desperately the rest of us wanted to live? Or just because she ,” her head tilts toward you but her eyes stay fixed on Gale’s, “told you to.”

She waits for him to respond, but all he can do is stare at her, then the ground, then you.

Shadowheart looks to you as well. “What happens next time? What happens if you aren’t there to stop him?”

There’s nothing you can say that would comfort them both. Not that was true, at least. You look between the two of them. Shadowheart, despite everything, is standing strong. Her fear burns hot, tempered by anger and passion. But Gale’s is frozen, threatening to shatter him.

So - in that moment, as forever - you choose him.

“I’ll always be there.”

You meet Gale’s eyes and give him a warm, tired smile. To your great relief, he returns it.

Shadowheart balls her fists at her side and breathes deep, a small tremble in her exhale as she fights her emotions back down.

“For all our sakes, I hope you’re right,” she says, resigned, before walking back to her tent as well.

Once the sound of footsteps fades, Gale takes your hand in his. A third silence falls.

It somehow feels longer than the other two combined, although no more than an hour could have passed. By the time Gale finally speaks, you’re laying with him in a joined bedroll by the fire and sleep is starting to darken the stars.

“I am the luckiest man in the world.”

You didn’t have any particular expectations of the first thing Gale would say to you. But still, that takes you aback. You give him a searching look.

You can see him trying to reorganize his thoughts. Clearly, he had already been several tangents away from the point before he began speaking.

“I would have doomed the world.” is where he chooses to begin again. “Not just this one. Every plane of existence was at risk. Every source of authority, every sense of morality I had told me that the only choice was to detonate the orb - end the Netherbrain then and there - no matter the cost. And yet I chose you.”

You feel yourself growing defensive. Does he regret the choice he made? Resent you for saving him? “They were wrong.” You say, sharply, “You knew they were wrong.”

He pushes air out his nose in an amused half-chuckle. His hand brushes through your hair. “No, my love, I didn’t know that. But it wouldn’t have changed my mind if they weren’t.”

You don’t understand what he means. You sit up and catch his eyes, hoping he’ll continue.

And he does, sitting up himself and returning your gaze intensely.

“If you had said to me, plainly ‘I want you to let the Netherbrain run rampant. I want you to make that choice, knowing it will destroy all that is known. For me.’ I would have done it. And if you had said ‘Use the orb. Raize the tower and every living creature in it - all your most cherished friends - for no other reason than I desire it.’ I wouldn’t have thought twice. Such is my love for you.”

Now it is your turn to chuckle. You are about to make a jab at his tendency toward dramatic overtures when he grasps your hand to recapture your attention. His voice is becoming more urgent. He needs you to understand.

“Today, with the Githyanki. Shadowheart is dear to me, and I would never wish to do her harm. But if you gave me the chance to try again, my actions would be the same. You were hurt and I would do anything, cut through anyone, to pay back a single mark that’s made on you.”

You run your thumb soothingly over his grasping hand and do your best to speak softly, trying to ease him out of the lather he’s worked himself into.

“Don’t say that, Gale. Don’t talk like you don’t care.”

“Caring is not the issue.” His eyes dart around as if the right words could be found floating in the air between you. “It’s this fear. Ever-present, gnawing, cloying fear.”

That brittle look returns to him. “I was ready to destroy myself for nothing more than the whisper of a chance at Mystra’s forgiveness. What chaos might I wreak if the one whom I love a thousand times more, is taken from me? I would commit follies Karsus could only dream of. I would rend the cosmos apart until consequence and reality turned to dust in my hand. Just to keep you near me, keep you safe.”

You try to reassure him as you did before. But you feel the chill beginning to claw at your heart as well. You’re afraid too, you realize. You’ve been afraid for him since the moment he was charged with his own sacrifice.

He doesn’t see. Your brilliant, stupid love.

You don’t notice your tears until he reaches up to brush them away. It feels odd, to be offered comfort by someone who needs yours so much more. But his body seems to soften as he tends to you.

“Fear has to be cruel.” You say, hoping it sounds reassuring rather than accusatory. “It whips at your back to get you to run faster. It’s selfish to keep you alive. Yours just needs some recalibration, let me help you! I promise you’re so much more than you imagine yourself to be.”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t see. But he smiles.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He brings you close to steal a quick kiss. “But you, my love - my beautiful, brilliant, shining north star - you are the best of us. If I am to live only by your guiding light, it would be an honor.”

No. No, you have to make him see.

“You weigh your worth against a handful of grand choices.” You begin, “Yet, with all you’ve been through, the greatest thing you’ve ever done is wake up every day and choose to live , despite your burdens. You say you live for me, but I don’t tell you to breathe and eat and put one foot in front of the other. Those are choices you make every moment and every one of them is a miracle!”

He stares at you in awed silence before you bring your lips back together. You pour into the kiss all your love and your dreams of a life he can choose for himself. It's many minutes before he finally pulls away.

“See? The luckiest man.” He says, a little breathlessly “I tell you I would do anything you asked, and your only request of me is kindness for myself.”

His hand moves to cradle the side of your head as he continues. “How deeply I want your words to be true. I suppose they must be, since you say so. Though that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? What then, would I be without you?”

“A good person.” You respond, “The best man I know.”

“I’ll allow that I may be someday, if you’ll permit me the time. I’d like to become the man you see in me. The best I can be, for-”

You interrupt him with one last kiss, stealing the words from his mouth. Maybe he still can’t see, not yet, but you will always be there to remind him: “For you. ”

[allpossibilities]

JAYCE & AMBITION. headcanon series.

there is no question whether or not jayce is ambitious, or even ambitious to a fault. however, the origin and and motivation behind that ambition is somewhat debated.

jayce was born to a lower house, which didn't leave him with the same level of resources as others. they were working class, and their limited success was hard won. jayce's father had been the first to really cement any form of a legacy with his hammer, but that success left him as more of a hero to his son than anyone else. however, he didn't stop trying to have an impact, modeling this ambition for his son. he instilled in his son the importance of a legacy. after the death of his father, his mother told him that he was his father's greatest legacy. this only cemented jayce's determination to leave a legacy of his own.

inspired by how is father had helped build something great with his invention, jayce wanted to create something just as impactful. but looking at the world around him, and experiencing the differences in wealth distribution in his own city ... he wanted to to help every day people. as a child he visited the mines where they gathered the materials needed for the hammers, and the talis forge where the hammers were made. he witnessed the various people who worked the line, and he witnessed the outreach that was planned by his mother. offering opportunities, food drives, gatherings for those who worked there, and their families, and friends. from piltover or the undercity, and struggled to make ends meet.

after the death of his father, the outreach dissipated. not only was jayce left to grieve his father, but with no distraction. nothing to avoid feeling small, and helpless. the success of the family company wavering without his father, his mother just trying to keep it moving. but without the innovation, they could no longer expect to grow.

jayce doesn't know what to do, how to move forward from this. that is until he meets the mage. and after his experience with magic, he knew he had to find a way to use it to help people. that became is purpose. his life's greatest ambition. with no magical knowledge or ability of his own, he turned to what he did know. science. beginning even in childhood to begin brainstorming all the things he could do, all the things he could try.

while he tries, his plans are met with laugher or condecending pats on the head. no one believed he could do it, as he grew older his mother nearly begged him to let it go. to use his mind for something achievable. so he attempts to, or at least split his attention. he works towards other goals in his studies, managing to get sponsored to go to the academy, to continue to learn and grow. but he continues working towards hextech. focusing his studies on energy generation and utilization, mechanics and metals. anytime he brought up his goals to help those in the undercity and topside, he was met with scoffs and eye rolls. no one seemed to care, so he didn't dare mention he planned to do so with magic.

he spent the rest of his life working towards his goal. when he finally gets the chance to make strides, and gains a partner, he finally feels hope again. that he has a chance. and his ambition is cemented. but as time goes on, he's told that to reach his goals, he needs to play the game. a game he'd never had to play, nor wanted to. but he couldn't help but preen at the compliments that came with it. after years of his theories being dismissed, and his ongoing fear of never reaching goals, he falls into this new world.

while he still wanted to help more than anything, the voices of those around him were louder than those from the distant undercity. he found himself buckled under their fear and his ambition shifting to doing what he could for them. losing the heart of his invention, the dreams of a young boy.

he spends his whole life trying to help, but as he grows older ... he learns that no one can agree how to help. what the right answer is. with all the ambition to make change, he just keeps trying. not pausing to recognize the harm he was doing until it was too late.

[tarithenurse]

A sneak peek

Fandom: Naruto Pairing/starring: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Word count: 1006 Content: Smut without plot, kind of voyeurism, getting off in public, maybe out-of-character behaviour, probably something I’ve forgotten. A/N: Drabble-esque. Inspired by a random thought from Maladaptive-Ninja-Returns so blame her.

A sneak peek

... Itachi ...

He knows that he ought to stay away from Konohagakure. Anytime he shows up, it’s a risk to him and in extension to the Akatsuki. But he has too many arguments for why he must come and why no one else can do what he does in Konoha and so he has returned “home” once more.

Idly wandering through the city, Itachi adjusts the simple disguise while ticking off his accomplishments on a mental list:

- Get in through the hidden path that none of the other Akatsuki know about. Check. - Confirm that Danzo is still up to his usual business. Check. - Listen in on assignment distribution with the Hokage. Check.

And the more personal ones:

- Check out the old Uchiha neighbourhood, spending a few minutes in the room where he sealed his brother’s fate. Check. - Follow said revenge-hungry little brother for a while, watching him train with a fury reserved for those fuelled by hate. Check.

Now there’s only one more thing left to do and he’s well on the way to accomplish that too which is visiting a specific little tea house where they make the best jasmine tea. Self-indulgent, maybe, but he thinks he deserves a bit of a treat.

It’s a busy little place but he’s fortunate to get a seat in the corner where he has a nice view of the interior with the comings and goings of patrons. Glancing around, his eyes meet those of a woman sitting in the corner near the entrance but he quickly averts his gaze, knowing better than to risk leaving a lasting impression. He’s seen enough to know that she’s gorgeous, though. If circumstances had been different, he might have tried his luck with this beauty but as things are, he has to be discreet.

That’s why he’s concerned when he glances in her direction again and finds her openly staring at him. Well, not staring at him...more like through him. The pretty mouth slightly agape, her chest is rising and falling faster than would be expected, and Itachi worries that this stranger somehow has recognized him.

Thankfully, a skilled Uchiha can deal with this situation without creating a fuss and he fixes his gaze on hers. Even in the dim light, he can see colours in her eyes that most people would miss and he allows himself to enjoy it before diving deep into her mind.

Dōjutsu.

Under normal circumstances, Itachi would imprint his own visions into the target’s mind, ensnaring them in a world of his creation where they could be trapped for what could seem like days on end. This time, however, he doesn’t get as far as to do anything because he’s taken aback by what he sees:

It’s the tea house...but there are no other patrons left to witness what is going on. Clothes haphazardly pulled aside, the woman is lying on a table with her legs wrapped around the waist of Itachi himself as he rails her – there’s nothing tender about it and so it’s the only appropriate term he can come up with. Each thrust of his hips makes the woman groan and babble. She’s keening and begging fore more. Her hands are scrabbling for purchase and with the power behind Itachi’s trusts, he knows that it’s only the grip on her hips that is preventing her from careening off the table and onto the floor.

Baffled by the display, the real Itachi simply watches, acutely aware of the growing need that he’s true body is starting to feel.

Never once do they use each others’ name, not even as she spasms around her Itachi’s cock, making him stutter in his ministrations and grit his teeth. The real Itachi knows that he must be on the verge of cumming and is surprised to see the dream him pull out and get on his knees to lap at the woman. Slow and careful, he cleans her like this and coaxes her down until her breath evens once more.

“More, please,” she whispers and Itachi sees his own smirk on the figment of imagination.

Merging with her daydream, Itachi’s point of view changes to be looking down at the ruined woman. Breasts spilling out of clothes that are askew. Puffy lips. Eyes that are swallowed by lust.

He wants to feel her, have her.

Leaning down, he plants a languid kiss on her mouth before whispering: “Come with me, when I ask you.”

And with that he enters her in one swift thrust.

... Reader ...

Shaking yourself back to reality, you’re first hit with a wave of satisfaction. Your core is throbbing, so close to the edge like you’ve never been before from a simple daydream. No...this isn’t being on the edge, you realize. This is from coming down! Imagination has made you climax? Oh, but what a daydream.

Blinking, the world is brought into focus once more and you notice the handsome stranger looking right at you, a smirk on his lips. You must have been staring! For how long? It feels like a long time, but you know that time is an illusion when it comes to the games the mind can play and so you try to brush the nagging thought of having stared creepily at a stranger for hours aside.

With shaking hands, you reach for the remainder of your tea only to find that it’s gone cold.

Something makes you look up and there’s the stranger, standing right next to you. Your heart begins to race now that you can pick up his scent and you recognize it from the last half of your daydream.

He bends, lips brushing your ear, to whisper: “Thank you for your lively imagination...how about we go elsewhere so it won’t only be a daydream?”

You’re stunned at the offer but even more so at how perfectly it fits with what you’d imagined might happen and you find yourself putting the teacup down and accepting the stranger’s hand.

[sakuracyanide]

headcanon. reincarnated life. cw; death, drug dealing, mentions of human trafficking & general underworld fuckery, domestic abuse.

like nearly everyone else who was reborn, zoisite's life was far from charmed. he was reborn in kyiv, ukraine to a loving family that, unfortunately, died not long after in a car accident. from there, marion was bounced from foster homes, to orphanages, to group homes. never in once place long enough to feel stable or grow roots. due to poor record keeping, marion does not know precisely how old he nor his exact birth date. he does know that somewhere in the mix he was moved from the ukraine to moscow, and it was there he met ivan, a boy a few years older than him. the two became very close. they made far-flung future plans, dreaming of escaping somewhere where snow never falls. it was a childish dream, but one that kept them both going through the worst of times.

he was adopted at the age of fourteen, however his adoptive parents had no idea how to handle a damaged young man who dreamed of a past life. nor could they handle the fact that a lack of stability had left marion with a fierce sense of independence and a refusal to trust any adults. marion was beautiful, intelligent, and could be exceedingly kind - but he was also prone to getting into fights, desperate to prove himself and find a purpose. he just seemed lost, his parents would say, and we're afraid the wrong person found him.

It was no real surprise when he ran away from home. his adoptive parents, though they struggled to connect with him, were devastated. if one wanders through the streets of his old neighborhood they'll still find missing posters bearing his name and a far more innocent photograph.

From there, Marion's crminal record only grew. Despite being marked as an "accomplice" in most crimes, he'd gotten his hands dirty more often than reports would indicate. He quickly took to the lifestyle, learning that trust was not something to be given lightly and learning that affections were only troublesome. Though he was never involved in the making and only rarely in the distribution, he was involved in dead drops - picking up cash or dropping off product in predetermined locations. It had the least mess, the least danger, and being pretty and young worked to his advantage.

Especially with the others. Marion was little more than a pretty face that their new young boss had taken under his wing out of pity or lust. Who could really say? That's why they didn't notice when the payload was a little short, or the cost of the clothes the little pet wore. Ivan would spoil Marion, give him all these little gifts as proof that they would one day go somewhere warm and safe and that this was just a necessity to get there.

Of course, confidence breeds cockiness. He thinks he's untouchable, that nothing can phase him. Comfortable in power that wasn't really his to covet, though anyone who had been on the receiving end on his temper could tell you that Marion was more than capable of handling himself.

He's wrong, of course. And unable to believe his own stupidity when he realized the lavish lifestyle he's shared with Ivan has been funded by a lot more than just weed and contraband. When he confronted the other about this, things took a sharp turn.

Queen Beryl finds him in the aftermath, laying in a gutter with his pretty face all smashed in. his face hurts, but his heart hurts far more. it clenches as he realizes how stupid he was for thinking he was any less disposable than anyone else. in the end, what had he been except a loyal sycophant? a pretty kept pet who could stroke ivan's ego and let him delude himself into thinking he was any different than the lowlifes he associated with.

Ivan had stopped short of killing him and told him that was love. that this was a lesson he needed to learn - and learn he did. when she recruited him to the dark kingdom, his hatred of humanity easily eclipsed that of his fellow kings, as did his need to hold power for himself. the details are forgotten, but he never wants to be indebted to another again.

falling in love with kunzite wasn't part of the plan - he intended to seduce him to suss out his vulnerabilities, then either kill him and claim leadership for himself or puppet him. he isn't expecting a genuine connection or a relationship that isn't transactional. they're equal partners in all things, and that's ultimately how he reconnects with his humanity.

( i slot mamoru still collecting their gemstones here, as he recognizes all of the kings as his guardians who were brainwashed and twisted against their will. )

[bldrdsh]

HE HUFFS, there's a sense of PLAYFULNESS that sets him a little on edge, but he assumes it's mainly because Colt is likely trying to keep things light for the sake of the situation at hand. Karter can feel PERIKLES clawing some snide comment about blonds in the back of his mind but he dismisses it in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

ONCE INSIDE the darkness, Karter's eyes start to adjust, the discomfort almost overwhelming despite the fact that he knows full well this was going to make the difference in being able to GET justice where justice was needed. Steps are and he hears sounds of griping at the end of the hallway. He keeps to himself, A BREATH drawn in before he vanishes into a puff of smoke once again, this time appearing several feet closer to the end of the hall, conveniently behind one of them men carrying one of the flashlights.

AN ORDER is barked out, but it falls upon deaf ears as Karter's hands PRACTICALLY swallow the man into the darkness, THE SPARKS at his finger tips ZAPPING the man and knocking him out. Leaving him unconscious on the ground below. He crouches down, hearing as a few of the other man START to erupt into a panic.

A SOUND of discontent comes from him as he shrouds himself in the darkness, BROW BEATEN & annoyed as he tries his best to garner the location of the ACTUAL intended target before turning his sights on the various doorways that are now illuminated by various beams of light coming from the flashlights each goon has.

"Where is he...?"

HE WHISPERS under his breath. Voice low to try and keep his cover before eyes dart around the room. HE HAD to be somewhere. He couldn't afford to continue to play games, however amidst his frustrations he spies a ROOM that served to be what he assumed was their DISTRIBUTION center. He'd have to make a note of that for later. If he could bring down the operation here & now it'd be in EVERYONE'S best interest.

"Alright––gotta keep moving forward."

Colt couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at Karter’s jab, though he was focused on the mission at hand. “Gymnasts in tights, huh? That what we’re going with?” He shook his head with an amused smirk as he landed from the leap across the chasm, his eyes scanning the area.

“Say what you want about the Avengers, but you’ve gotta admit... we’re good at what we do. Even if some of us do wear tights.” He rolled his eyes, but there was a playful edge to his tone. He couldn’t help but rib back a little, especially since Karter was one of the few who didn’t treat him with the reverence the name “Rogers” often brought.

As Karter killed the lights with that plasma bolt, the building erupted in chaos. Colt’s senses sharpened in the dark, his shield at the ready as he heard the cacophony inside. He gave Karter a nod, appreciating the concern for his safety, but there was no way he was sitting back and watching from the sidelines.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ve done plenty of work in the dark. The ivory tower wasn't the only place that taught me a few things.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, but it was tempered by the seriousness of the situation.

“Besides,” he added, eyes locking with Karter’s for a brief moment, “I’m not about to let you have all the fun.” With that, he moved forward, a smooth but cautious pace as he signaled his readiness.

Colt trusted Karter’s ability to handle himself in the shadows, but he wasn’t about to let him face the goons alone. “Show time,” he repeated under his breath, stepping into the fray as the building’s darkness swallowed them whole.

[angelprinz]

ok i found them notes but they're mostly random sentences so i'll just summarize hehe

diluc invites u and bedo for a game of windtrace in the dawn winery. needing one more player u decide to invite ur bestie childe too!

in the first few rounds, u were always the designated hunter but with some odd luck (u think) u would mostly catch the guys, even bumping into childe while he was in the middle of swapping his disguise. this gave u some much needed confidence boost.

the next round when u were hunter again, u strut forward and managed to see childe run from the corner so u gave chase. around the corner, however, is diluc waiting to trip u so u would fall. U did trip and end up smashing head first into one of the currently under construction walls.

albedo checks ur head and face on the other side while diluc and childe are waiting on the back end. when they confirmed ur okay, a bit bruised but nothing life threatening, albedo tells u that it's time for u to repay them for letting u win all this time. without warning, u feel gloved hands pull down ur pants and underwear and ur hand being forcefully closed around a hard long object.

albedo would present his cock in ur face, forcing u to open ur lips and take him all in. he explained his experiment to u, conditioning u to win and to increase ur recklessness so that in the next round, u would let ur guard down. at the back, childe smacks his hips forward and slides himself roughly to the hilt while diluc held ur hand as he thrusts himself forward onto it.

"since we all contributed equally, the distribution for the reward is as follows: tartaglia has claimed your back hole as he had the role of baiting u to the designation, diluc claimed ur hands as it is his winery that this plan took place, while i have full ownership of ur mouth as it is my plan that made it all work."

they take turns on each part, until ur mind is broken and ur holes and body full and splattered with their cum. maybe next time, u can be the sole rebel hiding from them and each time they find u, they get to play with u as they see fit.

and that's mostly it hehe i hope u enjoy this! if it's not somno then it's stuck on the wall trope with me, im very simple with my kinks <3

- somno anon (who maybe thinking more somno related prompts for u)

anon i love stuckage so much like let me be trapped between those three please god. i am still not sober oh my god i have no coherent thoughts rn i love you so much and mwah mwah i love somno prompts, ur brain so big

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Accident | Corpse Husband

Requested? Nope

Warnings? Nah

Summary: You and Corpse are more than friends without even realizing it (a terrible summary as always I apologize)

Word Count: 959

You didn’t think it was going to be a bad thing when you decided to move in with a guy.

Your mother and father of course wouldn’t let you hear the end of it, but you didn’t care. You needed to move out, get a new place to stay, and finally be able to chase after your dream job. However, that meant the only person with an available place to stay was a boy.

It didn’t bother you, you were a grown woman who knew how to protect herself and you took the time to get to know the man with who you were moving in first.

Corpse had put up the ad for someone to move in with him in hopes to help with the rent and make a friend. He was sick of being alone all the time and was hoping that maybe getting a roommate might make him a little more social.

When you met Corpse he was a sweetheart, he really couldn’t hurt a fly if he cared about the person. And Corpse cared about you greatly as time went on. Your parents still worried but you didn’t care.

You and Corpse had clicked instantly when the two of you met, having a million common interests and the same tendency to stay inside and not want to fuck with the outside world. It made the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, one that you both loved and accepted.

You finally emerged from your room, not having left for most of that day as you worked on endless amounts of homework. You shuffle out of the door and into the living room where Corpse lays on the couch, he props himself up when he sees you come out, cocking his head to the side.

“Hi,” you say, swallowed in a hoodie that covers most of your face and body, making Corpse giggle.

“Hey,” he says.

He opens his arms and you smile, shuffling over before dropping down into his embrace. He wraps you up into his arms, your face pressing into his chest and your arm flopping over his stomach.

“Tired?” he asks and you hum quietly against his chest.

“You been out here all day?” you ask propping your chin up to look at Corpse.

“More or less.”

Your eyes search each other’s and your heart pounds steadily against his chest. You always understood your parents' fear when you moved in with a boy but you also knew the only thing you had to fear was falling for the boy. Which you did.

“Mhm,” you hum once more. “Should have pulled me out of my room earlier.”

“Should have pulled me away from the couch,” he responds.

“Touché.”

You sit in comfortable silence, Corpse pulling you even closer and you feel your eyes drifting to a close. His breath evens under you and you know he’s asleep, you following shortly behind.

The next morning you wake up, half on Corpse and half hanging off of the couch. Corpse has a firm arm wrapped around your waist, making sure you’re not falling off of him.

When you look up at him, he’s already staring down at you and you smile. A soft yawn escapes your lips and Corpse grins at your tired state.

You’re about to get up and head to your room to change or at least get some more comfortable sleep when Corpse stops you. He pulls you in, pecking your lips before letting you go and helping you stand up.

You move from the couch, a soft smile present on your lips and your hand comes up to touch where he kissed, your smile spreading.

“Are we out of cheese?” Corpse asks and you look up from your seat at the island.

“Uh yes,” you confirm. “And coffee.”

“Want me to go out?” you ask knowing the man’s tendencies for staying inside.

“Could you?”

You nod, grabbing your keys and wallet, and just as you stand from your seat, Corpse makes his way over. He leans down, pecking your lips before walking away and back into the living room.

You head out of the apartment, your head swirling with a million thoughts. What was going on between you and Corpse? What was with all of the casual kisses? The cuddling? What was going on?

You tried to push it away as you headed to the store, grabbing everything the two of you needed and a few extra things that catch your eye. You make your way home, your head still swirling with thoughts of Corpse and trying to decide what to do.

When you get home, you carry the groceries in, and start to distribute the items around the kitchen. As you put things away, Corpse comes in and your heart skips a beat. His hand slides around your waist and you turn to look at him.

As if you’ve been together for years, Corpse pecks your lips once more that takes your breath away before he starts to pull away. You don’t let him get far though, grabbing his hand and pulling it back to wrap around your waist.

Corpse offers you a confused look but you wrap one arm around his shoulders and pull him down towards you. You press a long kiss to his lips, dipping backward just slightly at the contact. This kiss is longer than any of the others you’ve shared, more intimate, it meant something.

When you pull away Corpse keeps close, his lips ghosting over yours, but backing up just barely to look at you. His eyes flutter open to meet yours and you both gaze into each other’s eyes.

“Corpse?” you ask not sure what else to do.

“Just come here,” he says.

[outofangband]

Hey! There's something I've wanted to ask you for a little while, do you have headcanons about Himring getting overrun by the end of the Nirnaeth?

And do you think there are elves who are actually trained by Sauron (or his thralls) on black magic/ necromancy?

I have thoughts for both!

Angband World Building and Aftermath of Captivity Masterlist

Regarding the fall of Himring:

Maedhros put everything into the Nírnaeth and he knew it. He knew it was likely that Himring would be attacked and went back and forth for awhile between working towards a strong defense and simply abandoning it. In the end he decided the latter. In the event of a victory, it could be rebuilt. If they lost, the enemy would find nothing and no one of value. They would get the property alone though of course this also gave them a window and hold onto Northeastern Beleriand. But all documentation, living beings, weapons and such were cleared

I think it is possible that traps and diversions were left there; locked chambers that might appear to conceal something important and wasted valuable time of the Enemy’s in their attempt to open it only to contain nothing, or a trap.

Himring was attacked by a small group a few weeks after the Nírnaeth. No one was there however the group did slay survivors who fled the Nírnaeth and were traveling East. The fortress was then abandoned

I talked about necromancy in regards to Maedhros himself most recently here which also contains general thoughts!

I’ll discuss necromancy and black magic differently

Necromancy:

I do not personally believe that elves can raise the dead independently, even in a location such as Angband where the boundaries between life and death are so altered and distorted.

Elves in Angband have however witnessed and even aided in such magic, albeit in quite a minor capacity, serving as assistants or vessels rather than performing. The experience is typically an unpleasant one and can be exceedingly energy consuming.

magic in general:

I Have a post I’m working on about magic in Tolkien’s world because it is something rather complicated, the world building of magical systems who can perform what under what circumstances and how etc.

There Are elven assistants to Sauron including those who after decades probably centuries of captivity are capable of performing what would be seen as magic to others. I talk about them in a few posts namely here and here. Now, how this differs from Elven powers in general (which do not seem to be evenly distributed though again what education or training or innate talent is needed is not clear in the text) exactly is complicated. Certainly it is under the influence of a greater power and used for that purpose

Sauron would of course be incredibly wary in arming his captives with such weapons. Only those who were completely broken by him and controlled by magical means would be taught this and the circumstances under which they could use it rigidly set

Thus, they are largely used as extensions of his will to perform smaller tasks, drone like. Some are clearly marked by Sauron but not all are, to further the mistrust through the thralls as a whole

As always please feel free to ask more!

[progg]

A Wheel-turning King

While it’s almost impossible to predict who will win the Succession War, I think there is a very strong argument to be made for Zhang Lei. He will likely be the prince most equipped to end the Succession Contest, breaking the conditions of the Seed Urn and allowing for multiple survivors. In this scenario, he would be the eldest survivor and would inherit the throne.

In addition, the design of his Spirit Beast is related to the Buddhist idea of a chakravarti or “wheel-turning king”. To become such a king, one must enact extraordinary change, which Zhang Lei can accomplish by breaking the Succession Cycle and ending the Hui Guo Rou dynasty.

This write-up will operate under the assumption that Zhang Lei is not the son of Nasubi but rather Onior Longbao. If this is the first you’re hearing of this, I recommend reading my post entitled Longbao Conspiracy. In it, I explain how Onior Longbao might have hatched a long-term plan to place his son on the Kakin throne.

THE LONG GAME

First, let’s investigate why Zhang Lei may be in the most ideal position to win the succession war.

Matching Nasubi’s Description

Nasubi (notably a past victor) believes the prince most equipped to win the Succession War must…

Take indirect political and military actions.

From the get-go, Zhang Lei offers his guard, Sakata, to Kurapika, and it seems his mission is largely motivated by information collection. Mind you, Kurapika is a person of extreme interest (and value!) to almost all parties. In the same exchange, he rids himself of Duazul’s spy, Slakka. Zhang Lei’s indirectness is contrasted with the approaches of Benjamin, Camilla, Tserriednich, and Halkenburg. All of these characters are capable of taking indirect action, but they are inclined to direct action.

See the long path to victory.

Have a talent for long-term vision and deep design.

In both cases, Zhang Lei is perhaps the best fit. He is the only prince who considers what will happen after becoming king. His thoughts do not come from a place of overconfidence—rather, he is inclined to think about the future. He plans ahead, seeing value in an alliance with the younger princes (more about his long-term planning later).

Have a spirit beast skilled in logistical support.

We don’t necessarily know what Zhang Lei’s Spirit Beast does, but we do know it can grant powers to his subordinates. In general, the idea of distributing coins amongst your followers is very in line with the term “logistical support”. Other Spirit Beasts might fall under this umbrella, but Zhang Lei’s certainly does. His ability can provide hierarchical benefits to his organization, and based on his personality, it seems likely his Spirit Beast will be beneficial in long-term plots.

The framing in this panel is very interesting. If you look closely, you can see Zhang Lei is smiling in the bottom left panel, while frowning in the bottom right. However, the three frames form a single image.

It may also be worth noting that the prince who appears immediately after Nasubi’s monologue is none other than Zhang Lei.

Following in Nasubi’s Footsteps

In his meeting with Onior, Zhang Lei is told that Nasubi won his Succession War by waiting patiently. Thus far, Zhang Lei has been doing the exact same thing: letting the numbers dwindle around him as he plans ahead.

There are, of course, others who are waiting patiently (such as Tubeppa), but Zhang Lei is the only prince who is explicitly following in Nasubi’s footsteps. And what better way to win the Succession War than to copy the man who won it last?

Looking into the Previous Succession War

As I will explain later, Zhang Lei’s interest in the previous Succession War also makes him the most equipped to break the conditions of the Seed Urn’s Nen, allowing for multiple survivors. It seems likely that Onior’s findings will shed some light on the mechanics of the Seed Urn and the fourteen coffins. Zhang Lei is the only person looking into these events.

Playing the Long Game

The idea of waiting patiently and being rewarded is something that has been emphasized ever since the Dark Continent Expedition arc, initially by Beyond Netero.

Impatience, on the other hand, has been negatively portrayed and will likely lead to failure.

UNEXPECTEDLY FORMIDABLE

Scaling Power Spirit Beast

I know many people believe Zhang Lei’s inner monologue in Chapter #390 points to him becoming king. I agree, but just because he thinks about what will happen after his victory doesn’t mean he will actually win. In fact, he’s probably wrong about the mechanics of his Spirit Beast’s ability.

Very frequently in the Succession Arc, suspicions are incorrect, reasoning is flawed, and plans go completely wrong. A perfect example of this is Sale-Sale and “the speech that will change the world”, or more recently, Basho’s suspicions about Shikaku.

Well, at least he’s confident.

Zhang Lei is wrong: his Spirit Beast will have a tangible effect during the Succession War, and that effect seems like it will only get stronger as time goes on (suggested by the increasing numbers on the coins and the daily drop rate).

Hardly Targeted

Zhang Lei is being targeted by Benjamin’s guard, Coventoba, but he is nowhere near figuring out his the third prince’s ability. It also seems like his mission is destined to fail.

Coventoba’s discovery about the increasing numbers on the coins also immediately follows Sarahell and Fukataki’s discussion about failure having drastic consequences…

Zhang Lei is also being targeted by one of Camilla’s guards, but they don’t seem to be an immediate threat. Overall, he is being largely overlooked by the other princes.

This makes him incredibly dangerous. The longer he is left alone, the more difficult it will be to eliminate him. He is constantly gaining information and will soon learn about the details of Nen from Onior. His Spirit Beast will only grow in power.

Allied with Kurapika

As the Succession War has drawn on, increasing emphasis has been placed on Kurapika’s importance. However, only Zhang Lei has created a true alliance with Kurapika. Yes, there is a tentative alliance between Kurapika, Halkenburg, and the younger princes, but this alliance has been made through either subordinates or Hunter Association members, not through a queen or prince.

A WHEEL-TURNING KING

The Same Question

I think it’s very possible Zhang Lei asked the opposite of Camilla: for Nasubi to accept drop-outs that were not biological death. This exchange occurs almost immediately after Zhang Lei expresses surprise at Woble being targeted early…

…and shortly before Shimano suggests he will not target the younger princes.

Let’s assume Zhang Lei and Kurapika break the conditions of the Succession War, ending it prematurely. Who becomes king in this scenario, assuming Nasubi is dead? By equal primogeniture, it would be the eldest child. If Benjamin and Camilla are dead (this seems likely), that would be Zhang Lei.

A Wheel-turning King

In Longbao Conspiracy, I wrote about Zhang Lei’s association with Buddhist iconography, specifically that of the dharmachakra. The dharmachakra is a wheel-like symbol that serves as the inspiration for Zhang Lei’s Spirit Beast. It represents wisdom, knowledge, and insight. It is also known as the “wheel of dharma”. Rulers who brought about major change or reform were known as wheel-turning kings, or chakravarti.

With this symbolism in mind, it seems possible Zhang Lei will win the Succession War. Armed with the knowledge of the Succession War’s mechanics (and empowered by an alliance with the younger princes and Kurapika), Zhang Lei will be capable of ending the Succession War and ensuring multiple survivors. In doing so, he can qualify as a “wheel-turning king”.

Zhang Lei can also bring about another major change: the end of the Hui Guo Rou dynasty. While this may not seem like a big deal, the importance of family has been emphasized throughout the Succession arc, beginning with the Seed Urn’s test of inheritance. Not to mention, the Kakin practice of scarring illegitimate children shows the royalty are very possessive of their line.

The child of a “second-liner” becoming a king, establishing a new dynasty (Longbao), would be another “wheel-turning” change.

Themes of Cycle-breaking

An important theme in Hunter x Hunter is that of violent, unfulfilling cycles. I wrote extensively about this idea in my analysis of Chapter #337, “Repentance”. If we view the Succession War as part of an ongoing cycle (one Succession Contest after another), it makes sense that this cycle must be broken. I have another write-up in the works explaining this idea, but for now I suggest reading the one linked above (as well as Kurapika’s Fate or Shadow and Light).

Ruling the New Continent

We shouldn’t discount the possibility that one prince rules over the New Continent, while another assumes the traditional Kakin Throne. If this happens, I’m almost positive the former will be Zhang Lei.

To further understand this idea, let’s look into the term chakravarti again. There are three types of chakravarti, each defined by their rulership over the continents. Specifically, the dvipa chakravarti rules over one continent. It’s impossible to know if Togashi is familiar with these distinctions, but the fact of the matter remains that the dharmachakra, upon which Zhang Lei’s Spirit Beast is based, is heavily tied to the idea of continental kingship.

The symbolism seems a bit on the nose considering this entire arc is dedicated to the colonization of one continent and the exploration of another.

CONCLUSION

I hope I’ve adequately presented the argument for Zhang Lei. To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure Zhang Lei will win. My main reason for doubting is that Zhang Lei becoming king almost seems too obvious. Not only that, he has also presented himself in many ways to be the most viable candidate for competent kingship. With all the signs pointing to him winning the Succession War, it seems likely some if not all are red herrings.

And, as I’ve said, not everything goes according to plan…

<source>

[livesincerely]

take a shot (but how’s your aim?) ch. 6 - interlude: ceasefire

Also on Ao3. Chapter five here.

00000

Racetrack is still straddling the line between pissed off and goddamn furious by the time the gates open up, scuffing the toe of his boot against the cobblestones and cursing Jack’s name six ways from Sunday. Then he sees Davey making his way down the road, sees the look on his face, and his heart just about falls through his stomach.

“Aw, hell, Davey,” Racetrack exclaims, rushing over. “What the fuck did he do now?”

Davey’s lips twitch, like he’s trying to fake a smile but can’t quite manage it.

“It’s nothing,” he says, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Racetrack says, linking his arm through one of Davey’s own and leading him away from the distribution line. “C’mon, we’s takin’ a day.”

“Race, I’m fine,” Davey protests.

“You are not fucking fine,” Race disagrees whole heartedly. “Your heart’s been gettin’ stomped on every which way ta Sunday—the last thing you need is ta spend the day out in the broiling’ sun sellin’ papes. We’re takin’ a day.”

“Race,” Davey tries again, but Racetrack just keeps pulling him along, undeterred.

“Hey, Al!” Racetrack shouts when he spots him on the other side of Newsies Square, waving him over. Albert jogs towards them, his expression twisting up with the same kinda worry that’s churning in Race’s gut when he gets a good look at Davey. “Me an’ Davey are takin’ a day. Can you mark us down in the ledger or whatever, when you get a chance?”

Davey sighs. “This isn’t really what the sick day funds are meant for,” he mutters under his breath.

“What’s the point of ‘em, then, if not ta use ‘em when ya need ‘em?” Race counters, squaring his shoulders.

“You should take a day, Davey,” Albert offers, eyes sweeping critically over Davey’s form. “It ain’t like ya don’t deserve one an’, frankly, you look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Davey says, scrubbing his hands over his face. “You sure know how to lift a guy’s spirits, Albert.”

“You know what I mean,” Albert says. “Why don’t ya stop tryin’ so hard ta be okay an’ power through and jus’ take it easy for once? It’s one day, Davey, it ain’t the end of the world. ‘S not like anyone would hold it against ya.”

“You heard the man,” Race chimes in, clapping Davey on the back. “You’re out voted—we’re takin’ a day.”

Davey heaves another sigh. “Fine.”

…

The Brooklyn Bridge is full of people at this time of day, everyone in a hurry to get to where they’re going. There’s something peaceful about the chaos, though, something soothing about just standing there, watching, as the rest of the world rushes past you.

Or at least, that’s what Racetrack hopes anyway, watching Davey out of the corner of his eye. God knows he could use a bit of soothing.

They stand there for a good long while, neither of them talking—not needing to talk—the mist blowing up from the water tickling at their faces. Eventually, however, Davey turns away, staring out over the East River with that far away look of his, his face drawn and pale.

Quietly, so quietly that Race can barely hear him over the wind, he says, “He’s in love with her, Racetrack.”

“Bullshit,” Race denies immediately, shaking his head. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

“You saw them, didn’t you?” Davey asks, picking at his fingernails. “The flowers he bought for her?”

“You mean the ones you helped him find?” Racetrack scowls. “Yeah, I saw ‘em. Just about knocked his teeth in when he told me he dragged you along to pick ‘em out. But, Davey, they’s jus’ flowers, they don’t mean nothin’—“

“He told me himself, Race,” Davey murmurs tonelessly. “He’s in love with her.”

“Then I guess he’s lost his damn mind,” Race says. “‘Cause he ain’t in love with her, he’s in love with you.” Davey scoffs, ducking his head. “He is, Davey. You… you don’t see the way he looks at ya, the way he talks about ya when you’re not around. I’m tellin’ ya, he’s in love with you.”

“He’s not,” Davey says, simple as that, and the fact that he’s so resigned about it only makes Race want to scream that much more.

“Well, you’re in love with him,” Race counters, because that one’s impossible to argue with.

“So?” Davey asks. “What does that matter?”

“Wha—?” Racetrack splutters. “Of course it fuckin’ matters! You’re in love with him!”

“And he’s happy with her,” Davey says. “Aren’t we supposed to be happy for him?”

“I’ll be happy for him when he stops actin’ like such an idiot,” Racetrack declares. “When he stops fuckin’ everythin’ up, when he stops makin’ you cry—“

“Race,” Davey says softly. “Jack hasn’t done anything wrong.”

And that takes the wind right out of his sails. He swallows hard. “Dave…”

“He hasn’t,” Davey insists. “He doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, okay? Not you, not me, none of us. Just because I’m…” He crosses his arms over his chest, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “Well, that’s on me. That’s my problem. It’s not Jack’s fault that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“But he does, Davey,” Racetrack says because he just can’t let that part go, even as guilt and hopelessness duke it out in his gut. “It’s… he does.”

Davey smiles at him then, and it’s just about the saddest thing he’s ever seen: paper thin and more brittle than glass.

“You’re a wonderful friend, Tony,” he says. “But it’s not up to you to fix this. There’s nothing to fix. It just… is.”

Racetrack can’t meet his eyes. They stare out at the water for a few more minutes, standing shoulder to shoulder.

“For what it’s worth, Dave,” Race eventually says. “I’m real sorry ‘bout all’a this.”

Davey lets out a long breath. “It would’ve happened eventually—if not now, with Maggie, then at some point down the line. I guess it’s better to go ahead and get it over with.”

He looks at Racetrack then, and carefully continues with, “And speaking of Maggie, you need to apologize to her.”

“…I know,” Racetrack admits, shamefaced. “I know it ain’t her fault, I do, but I jus’ look at her an’ all I can think about is how much she’s hurtin’ you.”

“It’d be easier if she was awful,” Davey muses. “If she was a terrible person and I could justify hating her, but she isn’t. She’s honestly really nice—I get what Jack sees in her. And you know, if you gave her a chance, you might end up liking her too. Maybe you’d even be friends.”

“You’re my friend,” Race bites out, and that’s a truth that lives deep in the heart of him, etched right into his bones. “I’m not gonna— You’re my friend, Dave. You.”

The sudden declaration leaves Davey speechless for a moment. “Alright,” he says hoarsely. “I… alright. But, you should still apologize.”

“I will,” Race swears. “We ain’t gonna be no bosom buddies but I’ll make things right with her. I owe her that much, at least.”

“Good,” Davey sighs. “And, lay off of Jack a little, yeah? He still doesn’t know about… everything… and he’s trying his best, okay?”

“I ain’t makin’ no promises,” Race grumbles. “I still think he’s actin’ like a fuckin’ moron—he deserves all’a this an’ more.”

“Just try, please?” Davey pleads. “If not for Jack, then for me?”

“Fine,” Race mutters. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Davey says. “I… seriously, Tones. Thank you. For everything.”

Race curls an arm around Davey’s shoulders and squeezes. “Don’t even mention it.”

00000

Chapter seven here

Tag list!

@yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside

@dr-charlie-eppes

@stroopwafeldetective

@amillionandonefandoms

@dreams-and-bones

@mainstreamelectricalparade

@wineandhargreeves

@thenoteworthyhelen

@rag-tag-ragamuffin

@ill-purple-your-nurple

[barnesbabee]

[B]reeding Kink || C.S

[ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴇɴᴄʏᴄʟᴏᴘᴇᴅɪᴀ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʙ]

Summary: He broke into your house, and now he’s breaking you. (it's not fucking consentual non-con it's just inmate!San istg)

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Words: my fairy godmother said it was 4311 words

Genre: Smut

⚠ mention of drugs, breeding kink, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, inmate!San ⚠

  You woke up with loud banging on your door. It was so sudden, you didn’t know what time it was, what was happening, or where you were. It took you a quick second to scan your surroundings. 

    It was 2am, or so said the clock on your bedside table, and you were sitting up in your bed, startled and confused about the booming sound echoing through your house.

    You got up from the bed and hurriedly wrapped your robe around your body, however, just as you were getting to the living room to look through the peephole, the door burst open. You covered your mouth with your hand to prevent any noise from coming out and hid behind the sofa, praying to whatever wanted to help you that he hadn’t seen you.

    You closed your eyes tightly and started breathing heavily as you heard the loud footsteps roam around your house. 

    It was hard to breathe and you felt as if someone was pressing on your chest. 

    You opened your eyes slowly and peeked behind the couch. You could see a man… His appearance wasn’t clear as the whole place was dark, the only thing illuminating the room being the moon. He had a broad back and dark hair, that you noticed, and he wore heavy, black boots, that left a trail of dirt wherever he walked. 

   Who was he? What did he want? Why was he in your apartment?

   You hid back and waited until you could no longer hear him.

    The silence of his steps felt unsettling… Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and it took all of the courage you had to peek around the couch once more. 

    However, this time you were met with a man’s face. He wore a wide, Cheshire Cat-like smile on his face as he stared right at you. You could almost feel his warm breath hit your face…

    “Hello, doll!” 

    You opened your mouth to scream but the male was faster. He slapped his hand over your face, preventing you from yelling for help or anything of the sort. 

    The male approached his lips to your ears.

   “I’m gonna need your help doll…”

   You took a look at his appearance. He had on a white, stained, and slightly ripped wife-beater, along with a flashy orange jumpsuit. You examined his body carefully. His hair was damp and his inked, very well-built arms were shiny, he had been running. You were inspecting everything as carefully as you possibly could.. when you noticed.

     Was that blood!? 

     There were little spots and splatters of dried, red liquid all over his clothes, which made you widen your eyes. What the fuck had he done!? 

     He noticed your sudden change of emotions and realized you had seen the state of his clothes.

     “Listen, I don’t wanna hurt you. I need you to hide me, I’ll explain everything but you’re not in danger, yet.”

     The ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence sparked something in you and you began struggling under his hold. He gripped your arm and forced you to stop shifting.

    “Calm. Down. You’re not in danger, but if you call the police on me, if you yell for help, you will be. All you have to do is be a good girl and cooperate, because if anything goes wrong, all you need to know is that there are eight of us, if I get caught it won’t be looking too pretty for you.”

    You looked at him, eyes still widened and breathing very heavily.

    “You got it?” He asked.

     He slowly removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on his thigh. You were full-on crying in fear at that point. 

    The male said nothing, he just sighed and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. He also didn’t know what to do. He had no idea where the other seven were, he had no idea if they were still alive and he honestly didn’t know what happened next.

    “Y-you should take a shower.” You told him, as you finally felt the reek coming from him. 

   He looked down at himself and nodded. The male stood up and looked at you.

   “I can’t trust you though.”

   “W-what then? You’re just going to stink forever? Are you going to make me sit in the bathroom while you wash?”

   You were just mocking him, but from the way he shrugged you could tell he didn’t mind one bit to have you in the bathroom with him. You refused at first, but you didn’t really have much choice as he dragged you around looking for the bathroom.

    You sat on the toilet, facing the wall as you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

    “I can’t believe you’re okay with this.” You complained. 

   “I was in prison, doll, I had hundreds of men looking at my ass every day when I showered, having a girl in a bathroom with me isn’t exactly a nightmare.”

    You were both silent. The sound of the water hitting the floor echoed in the room and the water was so hot that the atmosphere around you two became foggy. 

    “Fuck, this is heaven…”

    You would’ve chuckled if you weren’t so scared and uncomfortable.

    “You know, we have warm water in there, but there are so many people taking showers at the same time so it just ends up being cold all the time. The showerheads are also really old, so they get clogged all the time and there’s barely any water coming out… You come out looking mustier than when you went in.”

    You smiled at that. You could tell he was a people person, he was comfortable enough in this situation to tell life stories and maybe that was the purpose, but you started slowly feeling a little at ease. So much so that you gained the courage to ask the question you were scared of. 

    “What were you in there for?”

    You had to know. You couldn’t have a conversation with him, you couldn’t not feel uncomfortable and uneasy without at least knowing. 

    There was silence, and the water turned off.

    “Murder.”

    Your eyes widened from the nth time that night and you felt all blood be drained from your body. The sense of fear and anxiety washed over you once more, and you didn’t know how to react. Should you run? Should you stay? Should you speak, or should you be quiet? 

    A little childish giggle sounded in the bathroom almost forcing you to look behind. He pulled the shower curtain to the side, and although this man was naked from head to toe right in front of you, your eyes were glued to his face. The giggling was creepy, you hated it.

    “I’m joking, I went in for drug abuse and distribution.”

    You took a deep, shaky breath and closed your eyes, letting your head fall forward. You shed a couple of tears out of stress and relief. 

    “You… fucking idiot.” You cursed at him, still feeling a little lightheaded.

    He giggled once more and wrapped a towel around his waist, after roaming about the bathroom looking for one.

    “Why… Did you have blood all over you then?” 

    He pointed at his abdomen, where a deep cut that your eyes had completely missed stood.

   “It was mine. Mostly… Listen escaping prison isn’t that easy and there’s trap wire and people shooting, if you’re not bleeding it’s because you’re Michael Scofield, and sadly we’re all kind of stupid.”

  Although he moved like the wound didn’t hurt, you couldn’t help but worry about it. You pointed at the ripped flesh.

  “Can I… Can I fix it for you?”

  He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you, silently questioning himself as to why you would want to help him. He shrugged, nevertheless. He wasn’t about to decline help…

   “I’d like that.”

    He tied the towel tighter around his hips so it wouldn’t fall, and sat down on the toilet you were previously resting on. You reached for the cabinet over the sink and took the medical supplies from it.

   “This is going to hurt a bit so just, distract yourself by telling me about you.”

   The male scoffed at your words.

   “I’ve been to prison, I don’t think I’ll be hurt by- oh f-fuck!”

   You giggled at his little curse as you pressed the gauze with hydrogen peroxide against his wounded skin.

   He rested his head against the wall and flexed his abdomen.

   “O-okay so, my name is San I’ve been in there for 2 years and- fucking Hell go easy on me!”

  You giggled and mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ as you listened to his stories. You tried very hard to focus on your job, but your eyes would sometimes wander around his torso and covered thighs.

  “I uh, I started selling drugs when I was eighteen, I got thrown out of the orphanage and my little sister came with me, and I wanted to make good money so she could go to university.” he paused for a second, wincing as you switched products “It was fine for a while, I made some friends there which was nice. I never really had friends, cause I kept moving from the orphanage to foster houses back and forth, so I never stayed in one place long enough to make lasting friendships… B-but it didn’t go so well cause I got caught in a swoop and the eight of us went in.”

  When he finished the story you had no idea what to say… You felt a little bad about what he had just told you. 

   “I’m sorry…”

   “It’s fine, life isn’t always kind. Plus,” he stopped to grab your chin and bring your gaze up to his “I never said I was a good person, doll. I just said I was tryna get my sister to a better place.” 

   You stared into his eyes for a second, before snapping back to reality. You stood up and mumbled something along the lines of ‘I’ll get you some clothes’ as you walked off.

  Some of your larger garments fit him quite well. A pair of large, black joggers and a yellow hoodie that looked stupidly big on you. He had to go commando however, since you didn’t happen to have a pair of boxers lying around.  

   You set up the couch for him to sleep in as you weren’t about to give up your bed for an inmate that had just broken in, but he seemed pretty content in the comfort of your couch. 

    “You sure you don’t need some company in there, doll?” 

    You chuckled at his bold attempt and pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek. 

    “Yes San, I’d rather keep the convict at least one hallway away.” You joked.

    Although you felt a little more comfortable around him, knowing that he wasn’t 100% a scumbag, you couldn’t let your guard down. 

    Your theory was proven when you woke up not much later after you fell asleep with a shadow looking straight at you from the doorway. Not remembering that you had a guest, you yelled. 

    He immediately came rushing to your side and shut you up with his hand.

   “Why did you scream!?” San asked, panicking.

   You removed his hand from your face harshly.

   “Because a huge shadow man was standing in my doorway like a lunatic! What are you doing!?” 

  “It’s… It’s 7am I’m hungry.”

 You shot daggers at him through your sleepy, hooded eyes.

  “Do you not sleep?”

   “Not really…  We have a lot of sleep deprivation in there.”

   Somehow he had this habit of making you do things by making you feel bad. And this was no exception. 

   You groaned and dragged yourself off of the bed, feeling kind of embarrassed about how terrible you looked compared to him. Although his hair was messy, it still made him look good, as it further defined his jawline.

  You didn’t know what he wanted to eat, so you just pointed at your cabinets and began teaching him what was inside of each of them.

   As you did all of this, you realized how often he’d brush his dark locks back, in order to get them out of his face. You looked at your wrist and surely enough there was a spare hair tie on it. You offered it to San, who gladly accepted the item and tied his hair in a small ponytail.

  You started walking back to your bedroom, to resume your interrupted sleep, but a pertinent question popped in your mind, and sleep was no longer your biggest preoccupation.

   You turned around and walked back to the kitchen, to find San shoving his hand down the cereal box and eating it dry.

    “San… What’s your plan here? I mean, in the long run. You can’t just crash in my sofa forever.”

    The male in question looked at you, a suggestive gaze playing in his eyes.

   “I can always crash on your bed.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you as he said this.

   “I’m serious, San. This can be really problematic for me! Do you realize the trouble this could put me in? If someone finds out you’re here I’ll have so many legal complications! I’m on the fourth floor, why did you even choose my apartment!?”

   San went quiet for a second and looked at the floor.

   “You’re the 69th apartment…” He replied quietly.

   You rolled your eyes and turned around, stressed out about his response, while rubbing your temples.

  Before you could get very far, however, the man grabbed your wrist and made you turn around.

   “You’re right, I’m sorry… We agreed to meet up in an abandoned building a couple blocks down from where we lived. We needed to lay low for at least a couple of hours. I got lucky I managed to lose the coppers, but I don’t know about them…”

    He had sat down by the dining table and buried his head in his hands. For some reason, 

you felt as if you should comfort him, so you approached the male softly and pet his head slowly.

    “I can try to help with the smaller things!”

    But little did you know that that statement would soon come back to bite you in the ass, when you came home later in the day, after your very tiring night shift, and found eight very big men sitting around your living room, just chatting it up as if it was their own house.

    Ignoring the possibly dangerous men sprawled on your floor and couch, you closed the door and walked towards San.

    “What… The fuck.” You said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm.

    “Well, you said you could help with the smaller things, and that side of the town was flooding with cops looking for us, so I figured we could come here to lay low!” He said, gesturing to his friends.

    You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. 

    “When I said small things I meant maybe food or warm water to shower with. I didn’t mean I’d be the shelter for eight hooligans!”

    “What did you just call us?” One of them calmly asked. 

   You looked behind San to face the bleached haired male, who had a mixture of angry and offended on his face. It suddenly hit you that all of these escapee inmates were in your house, staring at you as you insulted them, and nervous tears started brimming in your eyes.

    “I-I’m sorry Sir, but you are sitting on my rug and you came from jail I think I’m entitled to be upset right now.” You told him, holding up your index finger.

     “Listen I’m sorry but overstaying my welcome-”

     “Oh, you think you’re overstaying!?” 

    Already sick of your snappy attitude, San gripped your arm and pushed you back against the wall, causing you to wince and drop your keys. His face was millimeters away from yours, so close you could feel his breath on you.

    “Listen doll, I don’t think anybody wants eight wanted criminals in their living room but you don’t have a choice, okay!? Neither of us would be here if we had a better choice but we fucking don’t, so why don’t you make this easier for all of us and cooperate?”

    You had no choice but to nod, as you swallowed nervously. San let go of you and sighed, disappointed that he had to resource to violence.

   There was an awkward silence, that the male you had known the longest felt the obligation to fill. 

    “So, uhm, these are my friends… “ He said and began introducing them one by one.

    Some of the men remained expressionless, only giving you a nod as a greeting, while a couple smiled politely and the rest chimed a small ‘hello’. 

   “Did you… All go in for the same thing?”

   “Friendship goals, right?” The male you now knew to be named Mingi said, stealing a smile out of you. 

   There was the heavy silence again… And you searched deep in your head for what could solve the awkwardness.

    “Are you guys hungry? I don’t have enough food here but I could go out and buy some chicken. I don’t think it’s safe to have people deliver.”

    They all agreed and so you went on your way, to buy food for all the unwanted guests. It was probably a bad idea to go out on your own and carry all this chicken and alcohol (that you bought hoping that the eight men would become bubblier and less threatening after consuming it) but you still thought that was a better scenario than being caught in public with a wanted criminal. So after about forty-five minutes of struggling, you managed to get into the house with three huge bags: two for the chicken and one for the drinks. 

    Their eyes all lit up once you stepped foot inside of the house and suddenly they resembled little kids. The men instantly attacked the food, proceeding to hurriedly unwrap the chicken.

    “Damn Y/N, were you in jail too?” San asked when he saw you hungrily devour the food. It seemed like you too hadn’t eaten anything that good in years.

    You quickly flipped him off and continued eating. 

  Your speculations were correct, and as the empty alcohol bottles started piling up, the room started echoing with happy chatter and laughter. 

   All of the stress and panic about the situation started washing off from them as the hours passed by and you had to admit, hadn’t they been wanted criminals you wouldn’t have minded being a part of their odd friend group.

    “H-hey Y/N, you should sit here, it’s more comfortable.” San joked with a sly smirk, as he patted his lap.

     “Keep trying, lover boy.” You told him as you rolled your eyes.

     San then placed his hands around your waist and pulled you to sit on his lap, keeping a slight grip on your body, soft enough for you to leave if you were uncomfortable. 

    “Was this a good enough try, doll?” He whispered in your ear.

    You said nothing, and your silence made him chuckle as he pulled you back, until your back hit his chest. Somehow he was right. It did feel more comfortable… And maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that San was actually insanely hot, but all of the tension left in your body evaporated, and you felt yourself melt into his touch. 

    All of the sounds started fading into the background and you didn’t even acknowledge the rest of the boys, as all you could feel was the way San was drawing shapes on your thighs with his long fingers, and how you wanted them a little farther up your body. You pressed your thighs against each other, and this action didn’t go unnoticed by San, who squeezed them tighter in his hold and groaned in your ear. 

    You could feel a hard-on beginning to form in San’s pants, as it began poking your ass. You shifted in his lap, causing his boner to harden by the second. He gripped his waist tighter and pressed you down on his growing problem. 

     “I really want you, doll, I think you want me too…” He whispered in your ear. 

     “You’re imagining things San.” 

      He rolled his hips up and held you in place, so you could feel every curve of his fully hardened member press against you. Of course he noticed the way you inhaled shakily and giggled. Giggled. 

     San was indeed an intriguing person…

     He kissed a couple of spots on your neck, and bit down on an area he found softer, managing to steal a small whimper out of you. 

     A couple of heads turned towards you and they smirked, acknowledging what was happening, but not wanting to bother or steal the moment away. They turned their attention back to the other men, leaving you two isolated once more. 

    “Please, let me fuck you, doll… I wanna feel how well you clench around me. Will you let me do that?”

    Your mind was clouded by pleasure and curiosity, and so you stood up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards your bedroom, not even bothering to give him a verbal response.

    The second the male heard the door click, he pushed you against it with his body and smashed his lips against yours. His hands were obsessed with your hips and thighs, constantly squeezing them as you grinded against his crotch. 

     He tapped the back of your legs and you wrapped them around him. San carried you to the bed as if you were made of feathers, and even though his tongue was harsh against yours, the way he let you down on the bed was soft.

      The two of you only pulled away when the confinement of your clothes started becoming unbearable. You peeled the work clothes (that you had never changed from) hastily from your body. San undressed just as quickly, and he couldn’t believe his view. After all that time being incarcerated he managed to have someone so good looking so willing to fuck him… He smirked and slapped your thighs, proceeding to grab them as he kissed your jaw, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach, only stopping when his lips were dangerously close to a place you’d be wishing for him to touch you. He stopped and looked up at you. God, he wished he could take a picture of you right now… All jittery and messy, needy and aching for his touch. 

   "F-Fuck San, please!“ You begged, finally, when the teasing became too much. 

   "Anythin’ for you, doll." 

  He teased your entrance with his tongue before entering two fingers, as to prepare you for what was to come. San squeezed and bit your thighs as his fingers entered you in a high speed. 

    "Oh my G-God, San- I want you in me." 

    He groaned at your neediness, and shoved the fingers that had previously been in you past your lips. 

    You maintained eye contact as you sucked slowly on his digits.

    San lined up his cock with your entrance and pushed into you slowly, causing you to wince slightly and bite his fingers. 

    The male immediately removed his hand and moved both his hands to rest on your waist. 

    "Y-you okay, doll?” He asked, afraid he’d hurt you. 

    "Yes- yes, move…" 

     San bottomed out inside you with a loud groan. He didn’t move for a second, trying to take in how tight you were and how good he felt. And even though he tried to hold back by starting to thrust into you slowly, he soon lost control. His hips snapped against yours uncontrollably fast and neither of you cared if the moans and whimpers could be heard in the next room. 

    "S-shit, look at you doll, taking my cock like a good girl-“ 

     You gripped his arms, digging your nails into his skin, loving the way he talked to you. 

    Something about seeing all of those artworks in san’s body made you feel more attracted to the male. 

   "You feel so good inside me Sannie.”

    The pet name and the little praise caused his cock to twitch inside of you, and you could tell he was almost there, by the sloppiness of his thrusts. 

    You wanted to see what he looked like in pure lust, you wanted to do the dirtiest things with this man, his sinful figure bigging out someone you didn’t even know you had in you. 

     "I-I need to cum doll, where do you want me to-“ 

    "Inside me! Please, please cum inside me San!” You begged as you clung onto him for dear life. 

    His cock twitched once more, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and lust in his eyes. 

    "Y/N are you sure cause-“ 

    "Fucking breed me, San! I want your cum dripping out of me, please!" 

   The intensity of his thrusts increased as did the grip he had on you. 

    "You want me to breed you? Hm? Make you mine forever? Turn you into a bad girl for me? Y-you’re so dirty…”

   "Y-yes! God yes!“ 

    "Oh f-fuck!” Was the last thing he managed to yell as he buried his member deep inside of you, shooting white spurts of cum that covered your walls. 

    It was the way his body trembled and the way his mouth fell open with small whimpers that caused you to climax right after him. 

   His sweaty body collapsed on top of yours as he slowly pulled out, and you could feel the cum drip out of your hole. 

   For a couple of seconds all that could be heard was the heavy panting, until San lifted his head and looked at you. 

    "Fuck, I guess you belong to me now…“

[agent-cupcake]

As a resident Claudefucker, I know am curious to know what our fave charming schemer is doing during this Mafia!AU. He'd look lovely in a suit.

~It was quite the headline when Godfrey Riegan died. The details are a little hazy, a little convenient, but people don't talk about that sort of thing. Car accidents are common. Tragic, but not unreasonable. There’s no reason to smear a man’s perfectly respectable political career for the sake of some sensational gossip.

~In the right circles, however, there was a huge uproar, questions about who was going to take over the Riegan family when the elderly boss Oswald died. The Riegan’s had been dominating Leicester for quite some time, but a lot of people began to predict that the Gloucester family was going to move in. They had powerful friends, it seemed. Friends with money, no less.

~Claude Riegan, grandson of Oswald, appeared out of nowhere just when he was needed. Stories of the lost daughter Tiana still circulated, sure, but there were still a lot of questions about Claude’s origins when nobody except Oswald were able to vouch for him. He obviously had military leadership experience—his skill with guns and ability to lead was just too excellent for any other explanation—but he dismissed the question out of hand. There’s no documentation of him, either, leading some to wonder if even his name was false. But Oswald said he was family, and that was that.

~Claude was quick to establish himself, in any case. Despite his cavalier attitude, his efficacy in overhauling the power dynamics of Leicester were profound.  

~He decided, first and foremost, that the way to win the people over was to invigorate the local culture, which had seen a sharp decline as a result of new laws that were unfavorable to business, Adrestia’s growing market monopolies, and the bad reputation of the red light district Ailell. This included some perfectly legitimate campaigning and some under the table type schemes. 

~The result was a flourishing Derdriu Street. While it lacks the prestige of Enbarr Square in Adrestia, it welcomes entertainment that would be considered too “low brow” like comedy, trendy new restaurants, and music venues. Even better, all of it is built on the recently cleaned up river. The Riegan family is involved in all of  it, of course. 

~Casino owner Claude. This exists solely to thirst but maybe it was preexisting and he took it over due to its poor management? If there’s going to be gambling anyway, it should be done right. The extra money’s not so bad, either. But, Claude lounging in a big leather chair in a dark blue blazer with gold brocade, his white shirt unbuttoned low enough to see enough his chest. Enough to make you drool. Enough that you’d definitely get caught staring and probably called out for it because he can’t help himself. Claude with his elbows on the arm rests and fingers folded in front of him as he considers you, gold rings winking because he’s just that ostentatious and appearances are important. Claude asking you how you feel about taking risks in a way that really feels like it has nothing to do with cards, staring at you with a friendly smile that doesn’t meet those calculating eyes—eyes that you know will pick up on every tell. 

~Claude also struck a deal with the Kupala Distillery. They’d been fighting to keep hold of their historic business for years, and Claude offered to help them with that. You know, not for free, but he’s good at making deals that leave everybody happy. 

~The second biggest thing he tackled was the drug trade. For the most part, no one family had ever had a complete handle on that market. The Goneril’s had a hold over the docks for years, but the Edmunds had been moving in and working with the Gloucester family to bolster their power. Distribution was scattered and hard to keep track of as it ultimately circulated wherever there was a profit to be made. Looking at it like this, Claude decided that the only way to fix things was to take control over all of it. In his line of work, shady things like the drug trade are impossible to avoid. At the very least, if he has control over it, he can ensure the product is clean and expel far more unsavory ventures.

~Through these escapades, Claude was able to make alliances with all of the major families. A lot of them had only remained loyal to the Gloucester family out of fear so as soon as they had an alternative, they bolted. This has an unfortunate side effect of revealing how his power is perceived. Every day is a balancing act for Claude. He allows each family to function as they please as long as they’re aware they do so at his mercy. It’s better to keep friends than to control enemies, but even that requires a delicate maneuvering of power.

~However, Claude likes the conflict. He enjoys the game and he especially enjoys winning the game. There’s a certain level of his excusing amorality for the sake of his family and Leicester, but there’s an equal part of him that understands his wrongdoings and deals with it separately. He wouldn’t hold to the naïve “ends justify the means” idea to excuse himself, but he would still argue that his actions have value and are even necessary. If it weren’t him, it would be somebody a lot worse than him. That’s probably something that would linger in the back of everybody’s minds whenever they shook his hand or paid their respects, whenever they began to think of how easy it would be to take him out. Fear, too. So far, Claude’s never done anything shockingly bad, only what was necessary. But with his power and intellect, it’s always a question of what he could do.

~If someone asked him that, Claude would smile that friendly smile and tell them that he would do anything to see his vision made real. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen. 

~Luckily, Claude’s not alone! Hilda is the stereotypical crime family princess. She joined Claude because he offered her freedom from the overbearing control of her father and brother. Her skill in manipulating everybody around her combined with her reputation as a ditzy rich girl makes her fantastic at gathering information, assuming Claude can get her to do so. But, as long as he’s not being too forceful, she’s surprisingly motivated to weave her way through social circles and charm everyone. Although she would never say it, the order he brought to Leicester, not to mention the entertainment, made everything a lot better for her and her family. Plus, she likes being useful after spending her entire life watching Holst give his heart and soul to family while she did nothing. Ultimately, the information she provides is essential and her relationship with Claude is one of the few either have that’s built on trust, respect, and loyalty. That said, sometimes even Claude gets a little shiver as he watches how easily Hilda can manipulate people.  

~Lorenz was one of Claude’s most disdainful detractors, although a part of that was jealousy. Claude just swept in and did things that Lorenz had been waiting and planning to do once he became the head of the Gloucester family. Even after being on the receiving ends of such vicious attacks, once Claude undeniably had the upper hand in Leicester, he went behind the Gloucester boss’s back to Lorenz and told him that they were going to be friends or enemies, it was Lorenz’s choice. Not threatening him, just pointing out that the fall of the Gloucester family was inevitable under his father’s leadership and that Lorenz didn’t have to suffer for his father’s sins. Probably over mimosas and brunch. Lorenz is proud and has no appreciation for Claude, but he’s not stupid. After they worked out their disagreements and more or less accepted each other, Lorenz and Claude became pretty close. Claude knows that having someone to openly and aggressively disagree with him isn’t a bad thing. Not only that, but Lorenz’s a solid ally with a better grasp on some of the things Claude has difficulty with due to not being a native. Lorenz is willing to admit that Claude is a good leader.

~Marianne is well educated in the realm of the law and political action. The reason the Edmund family saw such success despite their lesser status was because of her adopted father’s genius. which he made sure to share with Marianne. She is invaluable in aiding Claude on the perfectly legitimate side of his business, and helping him hide his tracks for the shady stuff. Raphael is the muscle. Lysithea is a computer genius. Being a sickly shut in with issues that only recently saw treatment, she’s on the Mr. Robot level of hacker mode activated. Ignatz is an architect which is useful since so much of Claude’s power is in the property and infrastructure. He also designed a lot of places to have some neat-o hidey holes. Claude loves buildings that have secrets. Leonie is manages a lot of the physical and pettier side of the work. If someone’s stirring up trouble, she’s likely to pay them a visit as a warning before Claude has to get involved. She used to be a mercenary but being on Claude’s payroll is a lot better of a gig.    

~As for the suits, one thing is very important. Claude would not, under any circumstances, wear something tight on his thighs. I actually kind of like the idea of him going for a 1980′s style modernized. In his post timeskip outfit, he’s already got a hint of that going on with how oversized his outfit looks. The 80′s (rightfully) gets a bad rep for fashion, but it’s also very iconic with those wide-collared suit jackets, matchy-matchy three piece suits, sportscoats with a fun patterned shirt underneath, open blazers, pleated pants with an oversized jacket, and—in particular—the trend of summer suits in shades of tan and cream with colored shirts underneath. Then, combine that with a pair of Ray-Ban Aviators and a topless convertible and you’ve got a distinctly recognizable mob boss who doubles as a devastating heartthrob. I’m not saying he’d do a 1:1 recreation, but you’d definitely see references to the fashion of the era in his outfits. He would wear oxfords or ankle boots. Whatever it was, they’d have to be comfortable. He also doesn’t shy away from jewelry. The earring, of course, and rings when he's feeling particularly decadent. When he’s wearing his shirts unbuttoned Claude could possibly wear a gold chain. I mean, what are you gonna say, no? That gold doesn’t look gorgeous against his skin? That it’s tacky? You’re talking to the man who wore quilted pants. Claude’s not afraid to stand out because he knows he will anyway, nor is he afraid to be seen as unfashionable because he doesn’t particularly care about trends. I also enjoy the idea of him emulating the 80′s as someone who didn’t grow up in a western culture and thus mainly saw things through the lens of movies. Whatever he wears, however, he would look very handsome.

[potteresque-ire]

Hiya! I've only just started watching Chinese dramas and the drama behind the drama is already blowing my Western mind. Thanks for your meta btw! I was thinking about what you said about Chinese government not explicitly banning anything, rather people had BETTER catch on to what they mean 😨 Is it possible that delaying OOL is their way of warning future productions to think twice before involving Xiao Zhan, because they want to undermine his popularity? As he is 'too entertaining' 💀

Hiya Anon!! The decision to air a c-drama lies in both the government and the platforms. Once the drama gets the distribution permit from the National Radio and Television Administration (NRTA), it's up to the platforms to schedule the airing date.

The distribution permit for OOL was issued in May 2020, and so the government cleared it for airing a while ago. And so, it is the platforms that are holding the airing date back.

Multiple considerations go into the decision of when to air any drama. Here are some financial considerations I can think of: are there fierce competitors in the same period? It's usual for multiple c-dramas to begin airing on similar dates. The week between 2019/06/23 and 2019/06/30, for example, 9 series began airing—including The Untamed on 2019/06/27. And on that very same date, another prominent, very well-made drama also began its airing—The Longest Day in Chang'An 長安十二時辰). 

And then, has a popular drama of a similar genre been aired right before? If so, it may be wise to push back the airing date a little. Is it exam period or is it summer, with students being on vacation and having more free time to watch TV, chase after their favourite idols and buy merchandises? That’s the golden season for idol dramas! Are the production studios, platforms under pressure to produce a solid profit report to their investors? Better move a series with very bankable stars then ...

Afterwards, there are, of course, political considerations. For those who may be worried about c-ent’s current upheaval, I’d like to emphasise this: the government swooping in and say, or hint, that this and that popular thing displeases its Socialist sensibilities isn’t new. Dangai isn’t the first genre to be soft-banned, for example; before that, there was the ... Imperial Harem infighting genre 宮鬥劇 (sorry for the silly translation, I don’t know what’s the proper name for it!), which was extremely popular at the time of the ban with recent hits such as The Legend of Zhen Huan 後宮甄嬛傳 and Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略. There was the time travel genre 穿越劇 (For example, Scarlet Heart 步步驚心). The state criticism against “sissy” 娘炮 idols also made its former round in 2018. 

And so, while there may not have been precedences where the government targets c-ent’s obsession with “traffic” 流量—a relatively new term that describes the heavy flow of social media posts, of buzz and cash surrounding a beloved something or someone, c-ent has a long history of, and ample experiences with, dealing with their government’s displeasure at something that its audience loves, that is financially lucrative for the industry and most importantly, along that line, something the industry wishes to keep. 

The last point may be worth emphasising: the production studios, the platforms (streaming, social media etc), the marketing companies, the yxh, the companies who employ celebrities as their spokespeople etc etc, all of them desperately want to keep stars like Gg and Dd around. This is especially true with c-ent being in its “bitter cold winter” financially since 2018, with the tightening censorship that means hit dramas, and "top traffic” 頂流 stars, are increasingly more difficult to make or come by. “Top traffic” stars, in particular, are very attractive to the industry because their fans are (far) more willing to spend money, generate the needed buzz on social media to bring in more “passer-by” audience and in turn, more revenue, and more investment, and more endorsements and sponsorships (see: the number of Dd commercials in SDOC4). 

Therefore, as fans and audience, I think it’s safe to assume this: at least on the front of wishing to protect Gg and Dd’s star status, to protect potentially popular dramas and genres such as OOL, these financial interests stand with us. Does this “saving” go against what is safe for these companies? One can say so. It would be safer for the platforms, for example, to air ... um, say, The Best Speeches by President Xi in place of dramas like OOL. The act would likely please the government very much; signal, perhaps, that the platforms have caught on its ultimate dream, with Xi being the One Idol of China. But this decision would also go against the very nature of these companies as for-profit entities, these Capitalist Existence that are traded in stock markets and are driven to make as much money and as quickly as they can.

What, then, is the easiest way to protect traffic stars like Gg and Dd, like Yang Zi 楊紫, the lead actress of OOL who is also very popular and who, reportedly, also has her own rather ... rambunctious corner of fandom? What’s the easiest way to “save” a potentially popular drama like OOL? Saying what is *the* easiest way may be difficult, but I believe I can name one easy way: to simply keep these popular people, these (potentially) popular things out of attention for a while, especially with October 1st (Communist China’s birthday) drawing near and in 2021, the year of the Chinese Communist Party’s Centennial. 

After all, regulations from the Chinese government tend to come in bursts—axes falling left, right and centre for a while and in quick succession, followed by an extended period of silence (and neglect). The wait, therefore, doesn’t have to be long at all. As short as after a few month’s time, certain parts of c-ent may return to what it was like before and these c-ent companies, having had so much experience in working around situations like this, would know when that time comes, when the coast is clear.

Meanwhile, as fans, we wait. Being in i-fandom means our words and actions have relatively little effect, but if we were in China, our best action would, too, likely be similar to the platforms that delay the airing of OOL, except we cross out the the word “popular” and replace it with “beloved”: we keep our beloved people, our beloved things out of attention. We refrain from going around and complaining, no matter how much we wish to watch the show. We refrain from starting fights. We stay out of hot searches. The Chinese government is bureaucratic and corruption is rampant, which means often times, the higher-ups in charge of dropping the axes have little knowledge about who or what their axes are supposed to fall on, and little care if they get it wrong. In such circumstances, the key to survival is to not stick one’s head out; to make sure we don’t offer our neck, and more importantly, our favourite stars’ neck, for the axes to fall on.

It may be difficult sometimes. We’ll hear hisses, from antis, from doubters, from those who simply aren’t familiar with the situation, that will tempt us to put ourselves and our favourite stars out in the open where the axes are raining. Patience and independent thinking are important in times like this, qualities that allows us to stop, excuse ourselves from the virtual crowd and think ~ wait, is what is being said true? 

The government’s attack on “traffic”, for example, together with the soft-ban on Dangai, have led to soft hisses that Gg and Dd are the targets. 

I invite everyone to step back and think a little—are they?

Here’s one small, but important point that may be lost in translation (and lost, too, even in some Chinese discussions where netizens have scrolled through their feeds too quickly): in the state opinion pieces, the term used against “traffic” stars has consistently been “唯流量”, with 流量 = traffic, and 唯 = only. The presence of the character 唯 is crucial: 唯流量 are not simply “traffic”, or popular stars; they are stars with only traffic, with nothing but traffic. No acting skills, no singing or dancing skills, no other demonstrated capabilities beyond getting their fans to vote and comment and buy things for them.

Are Gg and Dd 唯流量?

Here’s Gg:

(For those who may not know: A Dream Like A Dream 如夢之夢 is not just a Chinese language play. A Chinese adjective that has been used to describe it is 殿堂級 ~ “palace hall grade”, ie, it’s a royalty. Trivia: the version in China ends with a cappella with Patient #5 singing about himself, which means Patient #5 can ruin the finale of the 8 hour show if he fails to sing well, and beautifully.)

And here’s Dd: 

I think I can rest my case. My fellow turtles, what do you think? 

Such rumours—that so and so, this and that are the alleged targets—are currently running rampant on Chinese social media, with almost every noteworthy celebrity and media projects etc being named by a few who dislike them. However—or rather, ironically, one may say?—because everyone and everything under the sun has been named, the net effect is not that different from if nothing has been named at all. 

If a similar rumour, if more of such rumours creep onto the shores of i-fandom, therefore, please do not be afraid and remember—these speculations, these noises will most likely fade into obscurity unless the populous Gg+Dd fandom amplify it with their voices, even if theses voices are words of defence.

Silence can be a defence. Silence can be the best defence.

For the time being, with the greater sociopolitical environment being what it is, with “Capital” being reportedly targeted by the state (previously discussed here), platforms and TV stations that are part of Capital may be extra careful and temporarily keep all traffic stars out of their productions, out of sight.

But I remind myself this ~ this isn’t about Gg and Dd. This probably isn’t about 99.9% of the stars who may be temporarily kept out of these productions in the coming weeks, some of whom may have starred in Dangai. As a corollary, I find it important to remind myself that too, to think twice before wondering aloud who may be the targets, to make sure I do not, even accidentally, put any non Gg Dd star and their fans under the axes—not because my words can influence the Chinese government, but rather, because of a simple, almost cliché reason: Do not do unto others what you do not want others do unto you.   

After all, one step outside fandom, people cannot tell one idol from another, cannot tell one drama from another, cannot tell cpfs from solos ...

As fans of c-ent, we’re in this together. ❤️💛💚