#It was interesting to see the patterns that made up his beliefs

[writingforatwistedworld]

Hii, I'm glad you're back . Even if it was for a few days you really left a place in tumblr not just for your work but for your presence itself.

I had a question for a while and I'm sorry if you answered it before and I seemed to not notice , if that's the case then forgive my ignorance but I was wondering , since sebek seems to respect his grandfather alot and has inherited the hate for humans from him and it's a known fact in self-aware au that the faes 'love' the overseer alot I must say.. does that mean that sebek also inherited his 'love' for the overseer from his granpa? If so how did green grandpa see the overseer, what made him 'love' them and how does he show it .

If you don't want to write this then feel free to ignore it , hope you have a great day and don't forget to drink water and eat well<33

Hi there Anon. It's so sweet of you to say that. I didn't think I would have made such an impression on anyone. But I completely forgot to write about Sebeks grandfather -_-

Well, better late than never.

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Jp-version spoiler (like, the whole thing!!!), (Platonic!) yandere themes, war, religion, unhealthy mindset, isolation, unhealthy family dynamic

(Platonic!) Yandere headcanons

Ah yes, our local way too loud and loyal member of the reptilian family. No need to to worry about him. I mean, what could go wrong? (Hehe…)

Baul was not from the Valley of Thorns. Growing up in Sunset Savannah he did not grow up with the beliefs of the Faes (in other words, he was not part of a religious cult)

So imagine the huge shock he felt when he finally became a solider under the Draconia banner and started to become more and more like the other Faes

Well, for starters, yes, he wasn't indoctrinated into the whole church thing since birth but also wasn't raised to see you as an equal like the beastmen of the Savannah

You could say that he was a healthy mixture of both

Emphasis on the “was”

You see, isolation and being the only one sticking out (if we discount the humans invading the valley) does leave you open for a lot of things

If we count two (being the surroundings he was in) and two (his more or less unnoticed loneliness) together, we can see pretty fast where that led

Never mind his superior (and friend I mean come on they might as well be brothers) Lilia constantly rambling about the Overseer, savior of all, and how you accepted everyone in your kind embrace

Ok. Nice. Neat. Great. In the beginning, Baul wasn't very interested in joining any kind of religion

But the longer the war held on, the more he wished there was someone he could ask for help in his task of protecting those he deemed close to himself (you see the generational pattern?)

At some point, even the proudest of all can't hold on for forever

So he turned to you, the supposed God that was on so gentle

And goddamn that religious gaslighting and placebo effect worked damn well

Not only did he feel like there was someone there who supported him from somewhere in the universe (even though that was just him believing too much but let have him have some hope, ok?) but also he finally had a community

Whenever he would leave one of the many churches in the valley a Fae would approach, thanking him for protecting their home

Sooner than later did the former non-believer think of himself as your chosen shield of the valley

The war came and went away

If only the same thing could be said about Bauls new religious beliefs

And when he saw that grandson of his, cute little chubby hands that gripped a wooden toy sword tightly, he knew that his position as the valleys shield would not cease

Yes, even Baul would die one day. Fae or not, he was at the end of the day mortal

But that talent of his grandson would surely be of use to you, right?

If his younger self would see him like this, would it run away? Would it feel disgust at the thought that his future self would use his own grandson for selfish, religious reasons?

If only Baul knew that “God” didn't even know they were living beings that existed in a different world…

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #platonic #twst x reader #baul zigvolt #twst baul #Platonic Baul #tw: yandere #tw: religion #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: family problems #tw: unhealthy mindset

[cultrise]

DRUNK SEX. DAZAI OSAMU

✮ CONTENTS NSFW, drunk sex (consensual), fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, dazai lowkey being in love ᵎᵎ wc 2.3k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

dazai wasn’t one to get drunk. that role was usually reserved for his ex-partner of the port mafia, nakahara chuuya, who, to dazai’s enjoyment, was pretty lightweight and even more hilarious while drunk.

however, dazai had a bad day that day. which arguably would be every day, considering his past, the trauma he was suppressing and the thoughts haunting his mind. though, usually, he could drown the noise by talking to his fellow peers at the agency or annoying his now-partner, kunikida. 

this day, however, had been especially hard. no matter what the situation in front of him was his thoughts ran back to his mafia days, or even further, to his early times, which were mostly a blur. he had been known all his life for being so clear about his plans, his ideas, his beliefs.. having such a foggy brain was uncharacteristic of him. and, to drown it all he took advantage of the little party the ADA was throwing that night to quieten the noise.

the members of the agency were celebrating a tough case that they had cracked, each of them laughing, joking and drinking to their heart's content. none had noticed dazai behaving oddly because of their excitement and the man took the chance to sit in a corner, left hand buried in his pocket as the other dragged glass after glass to his lips. he was pretty thankful he went by so unnoticed, especially with how tipsy they had all gotten. or at least, that's what he was thinking before you took notice of him.

you had been in the agency for a little longer than atsushi, usually assisting ranpo in investigations — even if you were never really needed — or running errands with yosano. you hadn't been as familiar with dazai before, other than taking into account the fact that he was exceptionally handsome and just as much of a pain in the ass. that all, however, changed when you switched desks along with atsushi's arrival, ending up right in front of dazai's desk.

he couldn't act like he hadn't noticed you before. he always made sure to make a mental note of certain behavioural patterns you had and was trying his best to read your character from afar, which wasn't a hard task for him. and since you were now his "desk mate", as he called you, he could pursue his interest further. interest turned into conversations, conversations turned into flirting and flirting into small touches and prolonged stares. now, dazai was unable to go a day without seeing you, which was fucking with his brain hard.

and, what surprised him most of all about you was the ability to read him like an open book, something nobody, maybe other than odasaku, had been able to do. "what's up with you?" you ask, sitting next to him and watching atsushi catch a glass that was about to fall from a table. dazai's tired eyes looked at his drink, wrist circling as the ice cubes clinked against each other.

"nothing. just enjoying a nice glass of whiskey" his response is shallow, making you smile.

you fully turn your attention to him "bullshit. it's your seventh glass"

dazai meets your stare, the atmosphere shift making his eye corners wrinkle up into a sly eye-smile "are you keeping tabs on me? how bold of you to admit that."

you chuckle, bringing your glass to your lips "you're my coworker, dazai. of course i am" he scoffs at your reply. coworker. what a bad joke. the amount of times you were both about to jump on each other and getting interrupted reached a funny number.

"right..." he trails off, looking back at the rest of the agency.

"you still haven't answered my question" you turn to face him so he can't look away.

"should i? how are you so sure i'm not okay?" his brown orbs stare down at you, making your body heat up.

"it's in your eyes. it's in your behaviour. you're not as mysterious as you think, mr. former port mafia executive" his lips curl up into a smile, eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

"aren't you an expert?" you put the glass between your lips again, eyes not leaving his

"i intend to be."

dazai's taken aback by the shift in demeanour "that so?" he bends down slightly, eyes leveling yours "careful what you wish for. i might give in.”

the bottom of your glass hits the counter next to you "nobody is stopping you" and he knows you're right. he knows everyone is too busy to care if you two made a sudden and well-calculated disappearance into his bedroom. his sight was fogging up, head dizzy with need. the alcohol was definitely kicking in.

chugging down the last of his drink was enough for him to grab your wrist, drag you into the hallway and hurry down to his door.

the sounds of drunk people, loud music and chatty voices were drowned by the sudden bang of the door closing behind you. your hands trailed up and down dazai's body, fists grabbing at his hair and clothes as he held onto your hips, pushing you to the bed. his breath was hot, uneven and he reeked of alcohol. but his mind and intentions were clear from the moment he had first talked to you. never had he wanted someone more than he did you and the thought was just another nuisance occupying his tired brain. but he was about to take care of it, about to take matters into his own hands and claim what was his.

you yelped as your back hit the mattress, dazai's hands fiddling with the zipper of your dress. you broke the kiss, chest heaving "are you sure you want to do this?" he stared back at you, ceasing any movement.

"of course i am.. are you?" your hand caressed his cheek, making dazai shiver all over.

"i am.. but are you sure this is okay? right now? i meant it when i asked you if you're okay" his eyes trail down to your lips as his forehead meets yours.

"i'm sure. may i?" you nod as he leans in, kissing you softly as your breaths sync. your face feels hot all over as he parts away.

"i want to fuck you so good tonight i forget all my worries" dazai whispers, making your hairs stand up on end.

"how could i refuse?" you respond, making his eyes twinkle in the dark. moonlight shines through the window as you both hastily help the other to undress, two figures stuck together as if glued. the dark-haired man on top of you groans as he takes off your dress, taking a step back to take in the view.

"matching set? fuck..." you smile.

"i'd much rather have it off, you know?" dazai smirks, bending down to meet your knees. he caresses the smooth skin of your calf with his fingers, making you bite your lip in anticipation. propping one of your legs up, he gently undoes the strap of your heels and looks up at you. he wants to tell you how beautiful you look in the moonlight, how stunning your features are thanks to it, but he doesn't.

he's afraid the alcohol might turn his words into something else, so, with a hazy mind he decides the best way to show you what he thinks is by acting upon it, lips starting to press gentle kisses to your leg: your ankle, your knee, your inner thigh...

your breath gets caught in your throat as he kisses you right above the hem of your laced panties, left hand slowly unclasping and taking off your other heel. his fingers grip the sides of your panties and, watching you closely, slips them off, throwing them on the ground. his dick twitches in his boxers at the sight in front of him, cunt openly displayed in front of him, sopping and inviting.

"shit.. can i taste you?" he asks, making you nod.

"stop asking, just do it" he smiles as your previous demeanour drops, being replaced with sheer desperation.

"just making sure" and he licks a long strip across your clit, making your back arch with a whine.

soon enough his long fingers find their way inside of you, your gummy walls squeezing around them as he sucks on your puffy clit "shit...dazai!" you whine as he curls his fingers up, a chuckle vibrating into your cunt.

"call me by my name, belladonna. want to hear it from those sweet lips" his digit brushes over your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion as he watches you with keen eyes.

you bite your lip, cheeks red from the request "osamu.." and he raises himself, taking your lips on his as he works his fingers into your pussy.

"again" he commands.

"osamu" and he kisses you again, needier, more passionate than before.

"again"

"osamu"

"again"

"f..fuck...osamu"

"again"

"mhm.. 'samu"

dazai's whole sense of control gets thrown out the window as his lips make their way down your neck, breasts and abdomen as he kisses, bites and licks a whole mantra of indiscernible words into your skin. he curses at himself for not being able to do this sooner, for being so stupid as to let you wait for so long.. for making himself wait so much. and as you reach your high, screaming his name as you cum over his fingers, dazai's vision blurs completely. 

he moves his hand away from your thighs, sucking on his fingers in the most erotic way possible before taking down his boxers in a hurry "you're not good for me.. at all" he groans as he aligns his dick to your entrance.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, reaching for his face "i disagree. i think i'm perfect for you" and he smiles in approval, tasting your lips again. curse those glasses of alcohol. since when did dazai osamu need liquid courage to get a lady into his bed? his heart was beating against his chest madly as the response came to him. you weren't just anyone. this time, he had it bad. this time, there was no escaping this. and he wanted to be selfish.

he entered you slowly, groaning at the way his length was getting coated bit by bit with your slick. you whined as you took in half of him, arms wrapping around his neck. dazai slowly breathes onto your neck, body pressed against yours "we'll make it fit" and he moves slowly, hands caressing your body as you take him. when he finally goes in fully you both take a second to breathe, a choked moan hitting your ear.

"s..see? told you... fuck, you feel way too good" and soon enough his hips are rolling into yours as he buries himself balls deep into your cunt, nails creating crescent marks into his back and shoulders.

dazai fucks you needily, selfishly, obsessively... he talks to you sweetly, he rambles, he stops in the middle of his sentences because he can't think properly. he lets himself get drowned in your moans, in your body heat, into the smell of your hair. he wants to mark you, have you, tie you to him. his whole body tenses with each touch, each whisper of his name. and he's so sure he's fucked. 

"f..uck, bella... who's making you feel this good, huh?" you whine his name into his ear.

"you.. you are.. 'samu.. shit! right there!" he keeps his hips steady as he kisses down your neck.

"yeah? there? fu..fuck.. yeah, there" and he snaps his hips again, the lewd sound of skin claps hitting the room's white walls. he doesn't even care if anybody hears, let them. he's so drunk in the feeling of you he might as well call himself an alcoholic. and that's exactly what he blurts out to you, too fucked out of his mind to keep his mouth shut.

you giggle at his words, cheek pressed against his shoulder "how sappy of you. didn't picture you as the cheesy type" and he looks at you with the most lovesick smile a man could wear, his bangs getting caught into his eyelashes.

"so? don't like cheesiness?" you chuckle again, pressing your lips to his.

"i like you, that's enough" and he laughs back, cheeks pink. he thinks of himself as so stupid. so pathetic. how could he think he's entitled to love and cherish someone like you? would he even do it right?

but in that moment his head gets cleared of any worry, any negative thoughts and he thanks the alcohol for that.. wait, no.. not the alcohol. he knows it's you who's blocking out those thoughts. dazai can't help but bury his head in the crook of your neck as his pelvis hits yours in another messy stroke. you grab onto his hair as his tip hits your cervix, completely oblivious to his racing thoughts and all-over-the-place emotions.

his body tenses up, heat travelling under his skin as he mutters up some curses under his breath. and as your walls clench around his aching cock he finds himself cumming loads inside of you, moaning loudly as he does.

you're soon spent out under the covers of his bed, trying so hard to keep your eyes open. his legs tangle with yours, your head placed onto his arm as he keeps you glued to his chest "i really shouldn't have drank so much so quickly" dazai chuckles and groans as you join in.

"what, you think you'll regret this tomorrow?" his eyelids threaten to close anytime soon. his digits caress your lower back as he juts his lips out and slowly shakes his head.

"the only thing i'll regret is the massive hangover i'm about to have" you laugh at him again, placing a gentle kiss on his adam's apple as his eyes close.

"but not this... never this" he whispers as he drifts off to sleep.

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#✦— kinktober. #𐙚 — pages. #𐙚— dreamscape. #dazai #dazai x reader smut #dazai osamu #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd dazai #dazai osamu x reader #kinktober #kinktober '23 #kinktober 2023

[wincore]

indelicate | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x fem!reader

synopsis: missing the last train out of new shanghai was not on the to-do list. however, your project partner liu yangyang promises fun, dazzling lights, and the warmth of a human connection for this festive weekend. perhaps even in the era of diamond and steel, the human touch means something after all.

genre: oriental cyberpunk, f2l, fluff

warning(s): swearing & several innuendos. also out-of-date jokes sorry guys i wrote this in 2021

words: 11.9k

a/n: this is just a rework of an old fic i posted here with another character! if you find any inconsistencies, it's probably because of that LOL also this is not a wincore revival but i did miss everyone on here !!

i. city plaza

Some idiot, somewhere along in history, decided to renovate a city into something so dazzling that the population shoots up to a hundred and fifty percent of what was before, and the rest of the damage comes along with the people. Promises are made and broken to build this city of extravagance. You have the belief that the more people there are in one place, the more difficult it gets to live there. This dazzling hellscape means colliding into too many people on the streets, too many bright lights outside your dorm room when you’re trying to sleep and the god awful sound of deafening firecrackers at every new year celebration.

Another idiot somehow roped you into his ‘midnight adventure: traditional version’ once he heard you missed the last train ticket out of the city. Liu Yangyang has a terrible way with words—but he has a way.

You were, by some unfortunate gamble of the gods, partners for a project that accounted for sixty percent of the grade. While that affair is over, you still haven't rid yourself of the predicament that is Yangyang. Gorgeous, yes, but too overwhelming. You smack your head against the car window only for him to jump in his seat beside you, hand gently driving over your forehead to check for damage. The neon city lays around you, and festive light projections float across the sky in intricate shapes of the ox and written messages. This is going nowhere. You came to this city sacrificing everything and yet suddenly, everything’s hanging on a string again.

The city lights of New Shanghai are cruel. Everything in this place is cruel.

Which is exactly why you’re in Yangyang’s car, parked by the middle level city plaza on New Year’s Eve. It is, in fact, illegal to hover by the city plaza on New Year’s Eve but Yangyang seems to either not care or simply doesn’t know. You forget the law doesn’t exist for rich kids. Out of all man-made wonders, rules are the most interesting. 

“Shall we go?” he asks, voice bubbly as ever. Every morning, he chirps like the alarm birds outside your window. Yes, it has made you want to sleep forever at times.

“It’s just one night. And I’ll be with you, so you don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you snap. 

“Not afraid of the dark either?”

You pull your jacket closer to you. Here, the cold streets of the techno-jungle make you shiver more often than not. If you dare go out without friends, a city so grand will inevitably drain the life out of you. Your body alone cannot withstand the dazzle. And—you can’t be afraid of the dark after you’ve complained about the lights.

You look at Yangyang and back to the cityscape outside—large conglomerative blocks of buildings, some hosting advertisements with the faces of inhumanly beautiful models and some with the ‘Happy New Year!’ text animation floating about in increasingly complex patterns. You see the revolving top of one of the grandest skyscrapers, a Dior hotel, not the tallest but certainly the most pleasing to look at. It gleams from red to orange like the pulsating heart of a giant metropolitan beast. There are more funky buildings to look at, some not even the shape of austere corporate skyscrapers.

“Do you wanna go there?” Yangyang asks all of a sudden. “I heard the lounge is closed off from eleven. I can call some friends and we can book a room though—”

“No. No way. I’m not going to spend new year’s eve in a Dior suite.”

He grins. “Thank god. It’s so boring there. Only models and businessmen and whatever freak shit they do.”

You sigh. Liu Yangyang is a whole story in itself. He’s rich and popular—a dream of many—but so few are as welcoming as he is. When you’re in that position, you’re bound to have a little metal seep into your heart. Some hidden part of you, however, tells you to loosen up when you’re with him; just let it go and have a good time. There’s no reason why you shouldn't. The economy is on a steep incline, the people are happy and no other city compares to this place. You could learn a thing or two from Yangyang.

He looks at you questioningly, eyes waiting and the curve of his lips still. You notice his platinum blond hair is more styled than usual, you can almost smell the gel on it, and for a moment, you wish you looked as good as he does. A dark leather jacket accentuates his shoulders, the plain T-shirt underneath not of the flashy type. He looks like he’s ready for club-hopping and you, anything but. If you knew earlier that you’d be by the Strip around midnight on New Year’s, you'd have dressed better. 

“If you stay any longer in my car, people are going to assume we’re…y’know,” he states, quirking his eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, though. Like, who thought fu—”

You were wrong. There is absolutely nothing to learn from Liu Yangyang. 

“I would get out of this car immediately and fall to my death before I let that happen,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“No, hey. What an inauspicious sentence. Besides, and I’m not bragging but you should know I’m really good at using my assets—”

“Don’t say a word.”

The heat of embarrassment flows into your cheeks at his implication. You look out the window, weighing out the pros and cons. The scenery is so bright that sometimes it hurts to look outside. It’s not midnight yet but the main streets are already getting crowded for the processions; the sound of laughter and conversation ring in the air. It makes you somewhat sad to not be home for this. But as they say, living in a big city can only be done if you sell your soul to it.

You’re directly above the level one city plaza, the people below looking unsettling in the way they’re so small and far away—they don’t even seem human at this distance. You wonder if you look like that to the people above this, to the level three elites who sit on top of the whole city..

You look back to your companion, who’s transfixed on the bakery across the road—either that, or just really, really zoned out. Knowing Yangyang, it could be either. When you tilt your head, waiting, you find that he has pretty features—a shaped nose and round, curious eyes, all in perfect alignment with plump, pink lips. His metallic ring earrings shine when the light hits them right. No wonder you get girls asking how close the two of you are often. Even in a world pushing manufactured love, boys like him make others daydream. You wonder why you’re the one he loves to drag in with him.

Yangyang flinches when he finds you staring at him. You clear your throat, looking away and hoping you can sweep this under the rug.

“Are you- are you by any chance mad at me?” he asks, a nervous smile awkwardly tugging at his lips.

“I- what? No. I’m not mad at you.”

“You look like my mother when I don’t clean my room. Or Ten's cats when I try to kiss them.”

A tiny laugh escapes you before you get back your poised demeanor. “I’m- I’m not mad at you.”

He smiles at you wordlessly and you feel a little conscious. You glance outside when the plaza music starts to get loud and look back at him, debating whether you should just give in.

“So… you’ll let me brighten your life now?” he asks in his regular baritone, grinning wider. “The semester’s over and it’s festival time! I bring good luck, I promise.”

Liu Yangyang is not a happy serendipity. He simply cannot be. However, he does make you laugh more often than you’d admit.

“Whatever. Go ahead. I just don’t want to be hungover on a Friday.”

“You don’t- you don’t have to drink to have a good time.” He laughs. “I would know. I’m sort of a lightweight. I don’t know why I told you that. I’m supposed to be cool.”

You giggle, taking a moment to think.

“Fine then. Show me your magical access key to our beloved Mobius Strip, the mightiest, grandest structure in all of New Shanghai.”

“Well, if you put it that way… I am pretty cool, huh?”

His smile is too harmless for you to roll your eyes. He’s too gentle, you realize all of sudden, to be as awful as all the uni frat boys you’ve had the misfortune of talking to. You watch him as he drives; his arm moves with ease and he tries to make conversation but you can only hum and respond in singular words. The closer you are to the Strip the more nervous you get. It’s like visiting all those dark places that your mother explicitly warned you not to visit as a teenager—but you’re an adult now. No one owns you. No one should be able to own you. The determination builds up slowly over neon lights and hazy street shops.

Nights here are the fun part. Everyone says that. Other than the fact that you can barely make out the colour of the sky under the vivid city lights, there’s something very enticing about the streets, the upper streets that wind around the city.

Yangyang drives the car to a level three street, the behemoth structure of the Strip now so close that all you can see beyond your window are its placid, white walls stretching out to infinity. You can see little gardens and shops, peeking out from between each strip and one of the shopkeepers wave at you the moment you pass. Yangyang says something along the lines of “thanks for the free noodles” to the woman, before gliding higher. 

“Grandma makes the best glass noodles here,” he says, excitedly. “I’ll take you sometime. If you like.”

You hum, noting the joy he expresses at the idea of something so simple. 

Level three streets are already thousand and a half feet above the ground. You try not to look down; heights aren’t something you’re very fond of even if you love the sky. You note construction work for street levels four and five, shivering at the idea. The winds of change are fucking cold.

Yangyang swerves the car off-road at one point and you clutch his arm by reflex.

“What the fuck? Don’t do that without warning me,” you say, breathing quicker. You do not do well with: sudden movement, jumpscares and boys with pretty smiles.

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you with concern. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You let go of his arm, more embarrassed at yourself than mad at him. Driving the car closer to the Strip, he brakes carefully by the parking lot. The walls are covered in red wallpaper, a few lanterns attached to drones, floating along the path inside. It looks like a rooftop parking lot, though the mysterious dim lighting makes you walk closer to Yangyang.

“I heard this is gonna be a really cool event—they’ve got the latest AI tech hosting and crap but let me tell you the best part.”

He pauses for dramatic effect. 

“The food!” He says, spreading his arms and grinning. “The food at private events is the best thing you’ll ever taste.”

You open your mouth but close it again in part horror, part confusion. “You’re… taking me to a private event?”

“Ah, don’t look like that. It’s really fun, promise.”

“I’m not even dressed for it,” you blurt, embarrassed.

Yangyang shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s for rich kids, you know? If I’m being honest, none of them know how to dress.”

His confident statement gets a giggle out of you and you relax a little. You walk with him, further into the square platform and away from the cars. The sky disappears behind the dark roof and for a moment, you feel like you’ve entered a different dimension. It’s like the architecture models that your professors had on display for the Shanghai History class in your freshman year. Old stuff, that is. Before this place even had the first skyscraper.

You turn to your side and narrow your eyes at Yangyang, suddenly wondering how he finagled his way into bringing you here. Your iron-clad will is not so much iron after all. It’s not even steel, you think, once you catch yourself staring at Yangyang a bit too long.

You step forward to find the entrance to the club; it’s a little lonely to look at in the beginning. Then it clicks that it’s probably the back door. The red pillars encase a black door between them, the overhang of the gateway just a little above Yangyang’s head. You can see the hip-and-gable style roof of the larger building behind, looking like a skyscraper instead of the usual historical buildings you’ve seen on the internet. In glowing red letters, it displays a blinking ‘Club 2’ near the top of the door.

The moment you step on the stairs, a bunch of advertisements pop up on the door, bright bubblegum colours hurting your eyes. Yangyang taps at the little x at the corner of the display till it disappears and finally the door is a regular door. The colour is jet black like any other screening platform. 

“I thought the rich were exempted from ads,” you say.

“They’re… more likely to buy things though.”

You make an ‘ah’ sound in contemplation when a whirring makes you jump into him. A little spherical drone flies its way out of an opening in the wall and stops right in front of the two of you. 

“Sicheng-ge!” Yangyang says, waving frantically at the camera.

The little drone circles around Yangyang’s head before stopping right in front of his face. It runs a scan before turning sharply and beeping at you. 

“My plus one!” Yangyang declares, pulling you by the waist. “Or whatever it’s called.”

Your ears feel warm but you don’t push him off. The camera focuses on your face, likely scanning to identify your age and occupation. When it’s done, a beep resounds and the door slides open to reveal a dimly lit pathway. The main entrance is much brighter, Yangyang promises, but for now it’s just the warm glow of the lanterns, Yangyang’s neon red striped jacket and the mechanical whirring of some sort of device in the darkness.

“What’s that sound?” you whisper and Yangyang stops. 

He pauses to think. “Oh, they’re Sicheng-ge’s drones. He’s got like a million of them. I'll introduce you—he’s hosting this club event, by the way.”

He smiles at you reassuringly. If Yangyang’s not bothered by it, you’ll follow his lead. Though, you do take more nimble steps and stay close to him like he’s your lighthouse. (In a way, he is, with all that neon shining on his jacket.)

You’re surprised to find a garden, but then it gets stranger when you see brighter lanterns in the middle area. You see figures and before you can react, Yangyang takes your hand and into the central platform.

ii. orchid club square

Yangyang was right. None of them know how to dress.

The two of you stand in the middle of a crowd, who are in fact dressed either for: a) an impromptu pool party or b) a Sunday morning lecture. You blend in somewhat well given the variety though Yangyang’s painted looks have attracted the attention of quite a few giggling, murmuring onlookers.

You clench your jaw in mild annoyance. 

“This is a tour,” Yangyang whispers to you. “I thought… you’d like to know what everything’s about.”

You feel grateful to him for once. Having some sort of knowledge about what you’re getting into makes you feel better about any situation. A set of mechanical clicking fills the air.

A woman—no, an AI bot is the first to greet you. She has pale white metallic skin and her dark strands of hair are in a traditional updo. Her lips are imperial red, shaped in a way that makes her seem as though she’s smiling but also not at the very same time. She holds an extravagant fan by her face at the perfect right angle, the patterns on it painted to imitate an ancient cherry blossom tree. 

“Good evening, everyone,” she says, her voice pitched up and enthusiastic. It’s a little funny to imagine metal so lively.

You smell oranges and lavender as soon as she flicks her fan once and precise. 

“Welcome to the New Shanghai nightlife!” The bot continues jovially. “The oldest surviving city on planet earth, the birthplace of the human race.”

“You are in virtual space,” she informs. “It might look like a courtyard stretching to infinity but it is only an illusion. However, the club is five hundred and sixty one metres wide and six hundred and twelve metres long. It is large enough to hold twenty-one blue whales in a line. That is, if they still existed of course.”

She giggles algorithmically.

“Where you stand right now,” she says, turning her head in a swift mechanical motion to you and you flinch. “This place is called the orchid club square. As you know, only VIP access lets you in.”

You glance at Yangyang worriedly and he shrugs. There’s no way she could know, right? That was oddly specific. But then she moves her head left to right to address the whole crowd in perfect grace. When her movement starts to get a little too eerie to watch any longer, you fix your eyes on the garden instead. You have no way of telling part real flowers from virtual ones and even so—all of them are beautiful. Maybe reality doesn’t make things any prettier.

However, when you look at Yangyang, the thought gets tossed out. You shake your head, in an attempt to get rid of the image of his face. It’s a little too late to be feeling this way. Either that, or the night is taking its toll on you already. The day was exhausting, considering it was the end of the semester.

The AI guide’s chatter fades into something quieter when you move the club square. It’s a rather empty space, fitting for a rave or just housing large crowds. The decorations are for the new year celebrations, banners of the ox in auspicious colours and a few drones projecting the rest. There’s a garden of evermore orchids lining the area in a perfect square and it’s so precise that it’s pleasing to look at. There’s a door at one edge, similar to the one you encountered before entering the club square.

The music that wafts through the air is so gentle, you almost forget there’s a celebration. The beat makes it livelier and even so, the rhythm of your heartbeat matches it in a soothing sort of way. Turning around, you spot the musical ensemble. It’s another AI, peering over a guqin with trained habit.

She looks the same, except she wears an electronic mask over the lower half of her face. It displays a blue musical note made up of noticeable pixels. She has no fan—instead, her fingers strum the guqin rhythmically, programmed with precision and grace. The sound is accompanied by the woodwind notes of a flute, though you’re not sure where that sound emanates from. There’s also a soft drumbeat which seems to come from the guqin bot herself.

You gasp when a few painted goldfish float through the air, almost real to look at if it weren’t for the glitch effect of holograms. One of them swims closer to you, opening and closing its mouth in rhythm and you giggle at its face.

Yangyang laughs, long finger pointing at the critter in amusement. “That’s adorable.”

He looks like a little kid and you giggle at his expression, with wide, delighted eyes and mouth open in focused mirth. He pokes at the goldfish and it makes a bubbling sound, gears shifting in ticking time before suddenly biting at his index finger. Yangyang lets out a low yelp, retracting his hand before clearing his throat in embarrassment.

“You’re like a cartoon,” you tell him, in between laughs. “No way are you real.”

He grins, in that same way he always looks at you and you look away, feeling hot in the face. It’s too enamored a way to look at someone. But of course, that couldn’t be true—he’s Liu Yangyang and you’re you. Parallel lines do not meet, even if they’re headed in the same direction.

“I think you’re unreal,” he mumbles.

iii. club 2

The doors open to a rather spacious arrangement, with several tables one one side and a sort of dance arena on the other where people are trying to out-dance each other. The intensity makes you move further away from it. It seems a little too festive and you can feel the energy slinking away from you. The music is more upbeat but you suppose the DJ tried to make it sound more eastern; the result is pleasing. He wears a smooth black helmet with a neon red beat visualizer on it, with written SFX appearing from time to time. Two pulsing golden horns glow at the sides of his head. You stare at it for longer than you’d like before composing yourself. You’re very impressionable when it comes to parties. 

There are two floors to the club, above the bottom floor itself. The other two floors mostly seem to consist of private booths, however, covered with gossamer silk that glow iridescent. A few floating lanterns sway by the upper floors. The ceiling is open to a midnight blue sky and the stars look much larger than you’ve ever seen them—you suspect it’s an AR mesh over the ceiling. A few light shows project little dancing dragons and coins over the sky and you find them too cute to not stare at.

“Wow,” Yangyang says, right after walking in. “Why is Dejun on the table?”

You look where his eyes are focused on, though it’s difficult through the crowd of people, and find Dejun and Kunhang in some sort of old anime transformation pose atop one of the tables. It’s surprising that they’re not the weirdest pair here. 

“Now, bear with me, it’s going to be boring as hell till the countdown and the fireworks,” he explains, waving his hands around. “But it’s a good place to have fun and make friends. You know?”

“Friends?” you ask, a little nervous. You’re not very proficient at making friends and it makes you anxious.

“Yeah! Don’t worry. ” He makes a strange gesture, bordering between posing for a beer ad campaign and looking like a motivational speaker for the army, before furrowing his eyebrows. “You just have to be confident! I’m learning too!”

He lets out a sweet laugh and it makes you laugh in turn, hand covering your mouth so you don’t embarrass yourself too much. You don’t believe the words much, but the glow over his cheeks makes you reconsider.

“You look really nice when you laugh,” he comments, a bright glint in his eyes.

“Whatever,” you reply, punching his shoulder lightly.

Just then, you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder to find Lana from your ethical AI class, smiling at you warmly. She looks a little tired, of people more than the time. Like you, she is also a scholarship student—and not a day has gone when she hasn’t soothed your anxiety about your classes. In stark contrast with Yangyang, you would trust her over him for most tasks. Even if you weren’t partners, you’re okay with the outcome. You glance at Yangyang.

“(name)! Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming here,” she says. “Did Yangyang kidnap you?” 

“I mean, sort of.”

“Hey.” Yangyang looks at you with betrayal.

“And how did you even manage to do that cool ass project with him as your partner?” she continues, squinting at him.

“Honestly, I don’t know either. He can be surprisingly helpful though.”

Yangyang looks from Lana to you in exasperation. “I’m literally right here,” he grumbles. 

Lana laughs at his expression, patting his shoulder sympathetically. 

“I just can’t believe you let him kidnap you and not me,” she says in mock indignance. “I’m a much better chauffeur, you know?”

“Do you even have a driving license?” Yangyang asks, laughing.

“I got mine before you, rat. Anyway, (name), I’m playing the guzheng. Do you wanna come see?”

“No,” Yangyang interrupts, suddenly grabbing your hand. “I… I mean you guys can go, of course. It's just the countdown’s close, so we have to go to the viewpoint.”

“That’s exactly where—ah. I see.”

"We'll join you another time, Lana," he says quietly, a cute grin on his face like a little boy would make to an older sister for more shares of chocolate. 

"No, no. I actually remembered I left my friends in the corner. See you!"

She leaves her epiphany unsaid, offering you a smile and taking her leave abruptly.

“I thought you told me to socialize,” you complain to Yangyang. 

“Yes, I’m so proud of you for that.”

“Yangyang, I swear if you treat me like a kid—”

“I’m not, I’m not. Sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I just need to borrow you for tonight. After all, I promised you, didn’t I?”

You sigh. “Fine then, what’s this viewpoint you’re talking about?”

“Oh, we’ll get there.”

Someone’s watching you. You turn around a full three-sixty but find only the same crowd of college-age kids. No one sticks out much, apart from Dejun, Kunhang and Ten, who are at this point performing some sort of strange ritual unbeknownst to any new year tradition, with a hell load of yelling.

“Oh my god, you’re dancing too?” Yangyang says, grinning ear to ear. “I didn’t know I’d have that much of a positive influence. Wow.”

“I’m- I’m not- never mind.”

Yangyang furrows his eyebrows. “What did I tell you? More confidence! See—”

He takes your hands in his, pulling you further onto the dance floor. You feel a rising panic but swallow it. There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you look at each other. Yangyang proceeds to perform the stupidest sequence of movements you have ever seen, certainly too awkward for his body to accept as natural but it doesn’t seem like he cares. He’s having fun.

You find yourself laughing. Taking timid steps, you try to loosen up although the inevitable embarrassment arrives in flushes of heat across your face. There are stars in Yangyang’s eyes when you join him—not the artificial jewels in observatories but the real kind that you used to see in your hometown.

You take a wobbly step back. It’s starting to get disorienting. If it were the real sky above you, you might even have felt better. Perhaps the purpose is to get dizzy.

“I’m a little thirsty,” Yangyang says, motioning to the table with food and drinks at a corner. “I’ll head over and be back.”

Unsure what to do, you follow him like a lost lamb and though it would be embarrassing at any other time, any other place, now and here are not part of that.

The red and golden lights of the neon patterning the walls don’t seem as harsh anymore and you let your eyes rest on the boyish figure of Yangyang. You haven’t figured him out yet. Something tells you he’s more than a shallow image of the party-loving rich kids of Shanghai. In fact, in quiet, personal moments, he looks more out of place than you do—despite all that bright neon. You open your mouth to ask something when you’re interrupted by a dizzy Yangyang spinning into you. 

“Sorry, (name),” he says, rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. “I genuinely thought I was going to win that game.”

You shake your head, letting him get back to whatever spinning game they were at. He smells like wine and something tells you he’s poor at holding his liquor. The stakes must be high for that game, you figure, because you see Yangyang set aside his beloved shoe on the floor. To be the only scholarship student here suddenly feels scary and awkward.

Yangyang once again tugs at your arm, the touch reassuring as though he understands how you feel. But it isn’t true. There’s no way someone like him can understand someone like you.

“Yangyang,” you call. “Do you come here every year?”

“No, no. I do come for drinks though. I’m only here right now because a friend is hosting this.”

You shrug.

“And you,” he adds and you feel a hot flush rise to your face. “New years are the only time this place is PG-13.”

“I’m not a child,” you snap.

“My mom says childish people say that.”

“Then it's very rich coming from you, Liu Yangyang.”

He laughs heartily, leaning away. A creeping thought grows in your head that you missed out on a lot. But then again, you’ll always miss out on things if you’re not rich enough for them.

Yangyang flinches suddenly, almost knocking a plate off the table. He moves quickly, turning so that his side leans against the wall and the other arm cages you between him and the wall. His frame covers your view from whatever, or whoever arrived at the entrance that made him react so obnoxiously.

However, his lips hovering just a little over yours makes your breath hitch in your throat. This is the worst possible position you could've gotten into. The smell of mint interrupts your thoughts and you look at him with as annoyed an expression as you can muster over the heat of your face.

"Yangyang, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

“I am… admiring the wall. Ooh, it’s got velvet over it, did you notice?”

 “You’re going to have your head in it too if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

"Just… sorry. Let’s stay like this for a few moments."

He flashes you an apologetic smile, his face close enough to make yours grow even hotter. A nervous chuckle erupts from his lips. 

"Oh my god, get off. People are going to think we’re making out."

"We could do it for real." 

"I'm going to scratch your eyes out."

"Sorry, sorry."

“Who are you even hiding from?”

“I’m not hiding… okay, forget that. Bodyguard-watcher-dude. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“You have a bodyguard?”

“More like a babysitter.”

You try not to laugh, considering the proximity between your faces. “How come you have a babysitter? Actually, wait, I think I know.”

He huffs over your face and you restrain yourself from landing a swift uppercut to his jaw. Now you know the minty smell comes from mouth freshener.

“He’s a prosecutor. It’s weird that he stalks me in his free time. Even- even if… my parents are paying him.”

“They think you’re doing something illegal?”

“No. I don’t think I am.”

You rest your head back against the wall, rolling your eyes. “Really? That’s your answer? God, your brain cells rotted somewhere along the way, didn’t they? It’s all those parties.”

“I’m starting to feel like my mom hired you too.”

He looks back, and noting the absence of his so-called babysitter, he pulls back from you. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath and you let it out in a shallow effort.

“Your babysitter’s gone?”

“Not a babysit—I regret saying that. Look, I really don’t think they appointed him because they think I’m doing something illegal. I have never done anything illegal. Except that one street race but that’s because Lucas told me it was perfectly legal.”

“The what?”

“Anyway, the point is, let’s look forward to good fortune for this year, hm? Leave all the burdens to last year.”

“Fortune doesn’t favour fools.”

“I’m not stupid,” he complains, spreading his arms to express it further. “Mostly.”

 You laugh, turning your attention to  the food table.

“Ooh, pineapple tarts,” he exclaims, hand reaching out to grab one when you smack it.

“You’ve had, like, fifteen already.”

“Mhm,” he says, with a few more stuffed in his mouth.

There’s a pause.

“It’s me, isn't it?” you ask quietly. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

He gulps, lips parting and closing. “I brought you here. So you don’t worry about it.”

Rich people suck. You believe that strongly. But sometimes, just sometimes, when you have everything you can ever want, you start to want the same for everyone around you. Some people are special. You find Yangyang genuinely fascinating for being someone who makes friends when he’s supposed to be making more connections. You find him fascinating. 

It makes sense for someone like him to be the way he is.

iv. fireworks viewpoint

“That’s the old Shanghai Tower,” Yangyang points to a building in the distance. “It used to be the tallest building once but… well, it looks like the little guy now.”

Lunar New Year’s celebrations are a big, big deal in New Shanghai. It means a break from university, work and every other affair to have as many priorities sorted in anticipation of the new year. And the impact is evident from this height, when you can see the city in its golden glory. It looks warm out there for once—although you’re not very sure if it’s because of the warmth that comes from right beside you. The little wooden boats float by on the river a little far off, various images blooming as holograms above them. You giggle at the large animated fishes swimming above the river with blank expressions and painted button eyes. 

The golden clock shines bright in the sky, its holographic hands ticking down to midnight. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie, scattering golden pixels everywhere with each minute passing. The size of it alone reminds you of the scale of this city.

This is an empire. It's owned by the kings and queens who built it over the bones left from sacrifices. It's going to be owned by heirs and heiresses. You feel a looming sense of dread come over you. It's so beautiful and it can never belong to itself. It must always belong to someone. It’s the terms and conditions of human creation.

"Hey." Yangyang taps you on the shoulder and you try not to flinch. "What are you thinking?"

You hum. "Stuff."

"This place is pretty cool, huh?"

That, you can agree with. "It is. It's so amazing that I can't believe I'm here sometimes."

Yangyang laughs slowly. "I hope more people can live here. Not in level one. You know. No one should live in desperation."

You hold back a scoff, though you end up frowning. What does a rich kid know of desperation? He might as well be prince, and princes do not know how to beg. It must be something of a saviour complex. You shrink away from him. The new year music is starting to ring a little too loud in your ears.

"That would be difficult," you mutter.

"Not if you lower the cost of living conditions—ah. Sorry." He pauses and you feel a flicker of surprise in you. “It’s not appropriate to discuss. Or so my parents tell me…”

The expression comes from empathy. You’re sure of it. There’s some sort of passion and not the kind of coloured fire that flames up in parties, but a different one. The kind that says, if you can’t bear the heat then you can’t learn how to forge. You scoff. Which prince has possibly known heat?

“I- I get angry too,” you say quietly. “I think it’s something to be angry about.”

He smiles at you, leaning against the balcony railing. 

You’re interrupted by a man in the attire of a waiter and it causes the two of you to jump away from each other. It’s not like you were very close in the first place but the proximity of shared words can play tricks on people. The man offers the two of you a screen and Yangyang’s face lights up almost immediately.

“We can order food with this,” he says. “Or book a table. The top strips are all reserved for members of the club. That’s the big daddy restaurants.”

“That’s… pretty cool,” you say, leaning in to glance over the browsing menu. “But don’t say that phrase to me again.”

“I can. And I will.”

“Ugh. Move on.”

“Okay, so we should drop by the convenience store for some ramen. I heard they taste better in the middle of the night,” Yangyang suggests all of a sudden, leaning in further.

It gets difficult sometimes to not be bothered by him, especially when there is a lack of distance. You look at him, pause and then sigh. “Sure. I guess. Are those free too?”

He opens his mouth in sudden realization and grins sheepishly at you. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have money then?”

“Uh.”

“How do you not have money? It’s the New Year!”

“I… uh—”

“Okay, you don’t have to answer that. But I’m not paying for you,” you complain. “You could always ask your parents for some money. What’s the point of being a party kid?”

‘Party kids’—it makes you laugh in amusement—is the colloquial term given to the children of businesspeople who had a direct hand in the economic progress of New Shanghai. You would sell your kidneys to be one and it still wouldn’t be enough.

His smile wavers at your statement but he shakes his head. “If I call my mom, she’ll start scolding me again about how my apartment room needs to be cleaner. Blah, blah, blah. You know.”

“She’s right- wait, you don’t clean your room?”

“Don’t take her side, (name).” 

You bite down a smile and he offers you his biggest one. 

“Oh, that place looks new,” Yangyang exclaims, a long index finger pointing to the preview of a sushi restaurant. You glare at him, his face nearer to yours than you would prefer but his eyes are fixed like a child ogling halloween candy.

“Let’s go,” he urges, looking directly at you. 

You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head vehemently. “We don’t have money. Or bit-credits.”

He sighs, deflating as though you just snatched the candy right from his hands. “But… I haven’t been there before.”

“So?” You exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You don’t have to try every food place in the city.”

“I need to eat,” he says as though it’s a very reasonable response. “I’m still growing!”

“Not mentally.”

He drops his smile, looking at you blankly. “You don’t have to get so smart with me, let me tell you.”

You snicker at the ‘offended’ expression on his face.

In the next moment, your attention shifts to the sudden crowd of people rushing to the balcony. Yangyang pulls you closer to avoid getting pushed by them, and you look around confused. It all makes sense when they start chanting the numbers, counting down from ten. You can only stare in awe at the clock and the otherworldly glee in the rhythmic chants. It’s like they don’t feel anything but joy at this moment. You let yourself smile.

The clock strikes twelve. The sound of the bell resounds throughout the city and the firecrackers burst into a thousand shades of red and gold across the sky. There’s moving images of animals, floating text and other animations which make the night sky seem like a screen. The sparks of the fireworks look like golden snow, or even happy little pixels.

You point your finger to the sky excitedly but when you turn, Yangyang’s eyes aren’t on the sky but on your hand outstretched towards it. He faces you, rather hesitantly as though caught red-handed.

“You’re- you’re… so pretty,” he says, softly and shrugging as if answering a question.

You wish he wouldn’t look at you like that. It’s the lonely speaking, right? The euphoria of human connection in this time and age—it can make you believe anything. There’s a myriad of colours blooming in the sky behind you, a city dazzling with diamond and ruby lights, people with much more stories to tell than you do. This city, this city, this city. This city will break your heart. 

“It’s kind of crappy,” you mutter, to which Yangyang quirks an ear.

“Wh-what is?”

“This city. It’s got bright lights and fun and all those promises of success. But all I see are people desperately trying to survive. All I see are the same faces at the top and—I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”

“No, no.” He makes a vague gesture. “I’m listening.”

“We’re at their mercy,” you whisper. “My life is not my own. That’s crappy.”

Yangyang hums in response. “You're right. What’s the point of living a life that’s not your own?”

Looking at him again, you see the entire figure of his being against the fireworks and all the beautiful creations of the human race. His almost silver hair falls perfectly by his forehead, the contact lenses looking like glazed frost over his eyes. Just as vibrant and excessive as the city itself, Yangyang belongs here. This is his kingdom. 

No, that’s not quite right perhaps. Yangyang belongs anywhere because he brings warmth. You're suddenly grateful he's with you because no one you know would possibly go out of their way to make you feel comfortable like this. You know Yangyang loves people and crowds. No one would do that for you at the expense of their own enjoyment. You smile at the prospect of solving the blinding mystery that he is.

"We… should leave," Yangyang says, all of a sudden. He eyes a man at the corner of the balcony, dressed in a business suit and looking blank. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You're not sure why he's in that getup.

"Okay," you say, not sure why you're so agreeable tonight.

Maybe it's the night. Sometimes all you can do is drag your feet over the asphalt and hope it'll be sunnier tomorrow.

v. two-four-seven convenience store

College boys are the most god-awful creatures on earth.

“Hey, do you always reach class on time?” Yangyang asks, eyes curious. He keeps asking a question every five minutes or so, trying to keep up conversation. You've already told him he doesn't have to. However, it makes you strangely comfortable to hear the sound of his voice periodically. You won't tell him that.

You nod, returning your gaze to the window, though the advertisements block your view. You can always try skipping the ad every five goddamn seconds. 

It's your first time riding the train that travels through the Mobius Strip, and certainly the first time in a luxury cabin. Since it’s free for members of the new year club, you can heave a sigh of relief. You will never in your life, even if it’s genetically elongated, ever be able to afford a luxury cabin.

"Oh, that looks so good," Yangyang says, large hand smacking against the window to get rid of the colourful advertisements. 

"It's a convenience store, Yangyang," you say. "It's got everyday ramen."

"No, look. It's a different brand. And they're giving a burger for free with two ramen cups!"

You furrow your eyebrows at him. "Well, I guess it's cheaper too."

"Oh, we can go to one of the upper restaurants too. They're free, remember?"

"I like convenience stores," you mumble. There's something about the lack of even lighting and crowds that made them a comfort spot for you.

“Quick,” he says, pulling you off the seat when the train stops.

“Yangyang!” you warn. He's so easily excitable that you find it hard to believe he's real sometimes.

However, when he turns around with his big puppy-dog eyes, you curse at yourself before you curse at him. Sighing, you follow him down the steps, his hand tenderly holding yours. Sometimes, you wonder if the human touch means anything at all in this diamond and steel era. Yangyang’s palm is warm against yours.

The ramen tastes awfully delicious on stolen time, and you would complain more if it weren’t for Yangyang looking at you with so serene a look. It annoys you and you try to grab his attention by waving your chopsticks in front of him. When it doesn’t work, you resort to swearing. You’ve never seen anyone respond with a smiling hum after being told to “eat shit”.

“Oh, this tastes so good,” he states, cheeks puffed with food. “I think I’m going to cry.”

“I- I think you’re crying because it’s spicy.”

“Oh.”

As usual, Yangyang pokes and prods at you with questions about your daily life, like you’re the most interesting thing in a city full of blinding lights, world-class robots and cyber-enhanced technology. You don’t understand how he doesn’t just grow tired of asking every single detail about you.

Apart from the fact that Liu Yangyang is most certainly an environmental hazard, some part of you cannot believe that he's truly terrible. There's something innocent about him, but all at once, something quiet and mysterious. 

“Why are you always so curious, Yangyang?” you ask finally. “Why are you always running off to different places?”

“Because experiences never come twice,” he answers after some thinking. It seems to be a little difficult for him to articulate, deep contemplation over his features when he continues. “This city… all the lights and clubs and arenas, all of it will be gone someday. Like we don’t have telephones or those big computers anymore.”

You rest your chin on your palm, leaning in.

“This moment, right here with you… I’ll never experience it again,” he tells you. “We can have more midnight convenience store ramen sometime later but… each time will be different. I’d rather live now.”

You smile softly. “That’s a funny thought to live by.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” he says, patting your head. “Also, I’m like hot and young and popular and not a cyborg—how can I miss parties?”

You shake your head, laughing. He’s ridiculous. He’s completely ridiculous. In that moment, when you look at him, Yangyang seems to be smiling in a daze, eyes on your face.

“You look nice when you smile,” he says quietly.

"Thanks," you respond. "I should keep it a secret then, huh?"

"Not from me," he says, smiling. 

Somehow, the extra minutes you have at the convenience store turn to a few multiplayer games and then, ditching technology, to an arm wrestling match.

"I feel like this game is kind of unfair," you say after losing almost immediately. He's clearly got stronger muscles. Does he work out? Probably against his will, you bet.

“My right arm’s a lot stronger than my left arm,” he says, before looking a little horrified. “That wasn’t a masturbation joke, by the way. I am so sorry.”

You roll your eyes. "Give me your left hand then- wait. You're right-handed?"

"That's not the- uh." He thinks for a moment, trying to gather words. “That’s not the reason.”

“I, uh, I heavily damaged this arm when I was a kid—don’t look like that, there’s a fun part to this. It’s made of titanium! And some other things. The names are too complicated.”

You drive your fingers over the arm, so warm and real and flushed red, anything but metal and code. You find curiosity blooming in you more than ever before.

“You know why I’m not with family,” you say, straightening. “But why aren’t you celebrating with your family?” 

He gets quiet, thinking to himself for a few more moments. You almost regret asking when he answers, a hesitant sound leaving him first.

“None of us, uh… none of our parents can spare more than three hours. They’ll come in the afternoon tomorr—today.”

You can’t exactly respond to that very well.

“So all of us go hang out at the New Year’s Club.”

You frown. "But it's not a celebration without family!"

"We have new year lunches. And… it's the future. Traditions die. Very few grieve them for fear of being stuck in the past."

You feel partly horrified and partly dismal. "I… You could come with me next year, if you like."

You're not sure where the offer comes from but Yangyang lights up at the idea.

"I can? Oh, we'll have so much fun!"

"Slow down. There's a year to go."

Yangyang laughs. It's surprising the way he turned out. He must have gotten tired of waiting by the door. And now you know all the things about him that his parents don’t.

You smile at him, warming up to the idea of you and him as friends before scoffing at it again.

Right in the next moment, Yangyang dips suddenly to the ground, crouching below the table. You look around in surprise and fall to your knees with a yelp at the tug on our wrist from Yangyang.

“What the hell?” you hiss. “You’re starting to act really weird.”

“I- Sorry. It’s an emergency,” he says, but there’s no sign of distress in his voice. He simply smiles at you. Perhaps he’s never heard of the emotion as of yet.

“Your babysitter?”

“I say that once and on accident—yes, it’s my babysitter.”

You chuckle. He’s simply too cute at times. 

“We have to be discreet now, okay? It’s like—what’s the movie called? Oh, Mission Impossible.”

“I’ve never seen that.”

“What? How can you not? It’s a classic! It’s got so many cool—ah, I’ll show you another time.”

You hum, staring at Yangyang’s facial features tense up and relax again as he scans the vicinity outside the window of the convenience store. It’s full of people, even at this hour so you can’t possibly know who’s looking at you from there.

Yangyang turns back to you. “Have you ever been to blue moon station?”

“The one with the pretty walls? No. No, I’ve never even gone beyond Strip Two.”

Yangyang smiles at you and right then, you feel like you’re about to resent whatever’s going to happen next. It’s in the ebb and flow of tonight’s itinerary, however, and you relax your shoulders just as he does a roll across the floor, looking back at you with a grin for executing it flawlessly. 

“You’re so silly,” you mutter. 

“I heard that,” he whisper-shouts back.

You’re not as afraid as before, you realize. The lights are absolutely mesmerizing.

vi. blue moon station

It drops a few degrees in temperature once you step foot onto the platform. You can see a bunch of scattered tourists, cameras hanging around their neck and a look of awe over their faces. 

Yangyang takes off his jacket, shivering immediately but offering it to you nonetheless. When you refuse, he places it gingerly over your shoulders.

"Is that a…?"

"A tourist bot, yes."

"Oh my god, it's so cute," you say, crouching by the little red robot, a teal-colored smiley face popping up on its monitor.

"A lot of tourists in this station," you note.

"Yeah. It's very… visually pleasing."

That's true. The walls are screens with three dimensional graphics, immersive enough to catch one's eye. A single tree grows through the middle of the station, evergreen and alive with holographic flora and fauna. The sun shines eternally over the tree. It's so beautiful that you had trouble taking your eyes off it at first.

The walls next to you are currently displaying a walk through a fantasy forest, crafted by a visionary artist, no doubt. A blue butterfly flies past you and you stare at it before zoning out.

Sometimes, the lights are too disorienting. You start to feel dizzy, massaging your forehead when Yangyang brushes the tips of his fingers against your shoulder.

“You good?”

Yangyang crouches beside you with watchful eyes.

You nod, turning your attention to the tourist bot. It displays a plethora of information about the architecture of this place which you're sure no tourist will bother to read beyond the first two lines. 

“You can make it do cool tricks too,” Yangyang says. “Watch.”

Yangyang pokes at it with his index finger, drawing a pattern over the screen. The bot proceeds to do an old internet dance, waving about its arms and hips. You laugh at it and Yangyang looks at you with the pride of a third grader with first place on their science project.

The colours on the walls change and you see the animation of a man and a fox, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to recall that image. They seem to be broadcasting fables through the holograms. You can’t deny that they’re pretty—glowing with auspicious colours and as animated as the real world itself. As if by compulsion, you hold Yangyang’s hand. It’s nice to feel the human touch real once in a while, especially in the overwhelming loneliness of city nights.

Yangyang looks at you brightly and right then, you feel less inclined to leave him.

“You know, I could teach you better ways to flirt than just grab my hand,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

“What?” 

You move your hand. “I’m not flirting.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that,” he responds quickly. “Can I please have your hand back?”

You shake your head, laughing. He worries you. Some part of you says you shouldn’t be worried. It’s not like you’re close friends. (Friends, maybe. Close, not yet.)

The night has a different opinion.

—

“Found you,” a voice declares, and the two of you jump into each other with a scream.

The man in the suit looks at you with a fatigued look in his eyes, hair somehow still neat though he breathes like his lungs are on fire. 

“Care to tell me why you’ve been skipping my calls?” he asks after catching his breath. “It’s not like I wanted to follow you—you just needed to tell me.”

“I… I was busy?” Yangyang flashes a smile. “Kun-ge, I honestly had no idea you called. I don’t even have my phone.”

The man shakes his head. “Fine. Just head over to Jasmine for the night. And you can bring your date too.”

He gestures at you and you want to deny it as quick as you can. You do not, however. It’s almost like you’ve warmed up to the idea of it rather well.

“Okay,” Yangyang answers quietly. 

vii. jasmine private lounge

You enter a lounge with the capacity of around a hundred people. Despite that, there are hardly five present. The walls are black with neon jasmines pulsating from blue to red. A grand piano lies still in all its elegance in the middle of the lounge, played by a plain white AI. It feels like an expensive place to be, and more so, it feels like someplace you’re not supposed to step foot into. There's a bar table at one side, opposite to the entrance which glows a hypnotizing purple. A flat lettering on the wall declares the time to be 3 A.M.

You and Yangyang sit a little too close on the artificially warmed couch, waiting for Kun to return. Yangyang reassures you that you haven't done anything wrong but the illicit outing of yours certainly says otherwise. You contemplate tasting the cocktail Yangyang ordered before finally giving in and find it pleasantly warm to taste. You take another sip.

“It’s a little strong,” Yangyang warns. “Don’t have all of—you had all of it.”

You shrug. Your throat certainly feels better now. This lounge is fucking cold.

"You know, Yangyang," you say with the warmth of confidence on your face. "You're a really nice guy."

He smiles incredulously. "Thanks. You're really nice too."

"And you're pretty decent-looking—"

"I know that."

"—and also popular. So why are you always hanging around me?"

"Uh, that's your question?"

You nod. Placing your cheek against your palm, you try not to sink into the couch.

"Because you're really cool!" He answers before clearing his throat. "I mean. I think you're fun to be around. You make me see things clearer."

"And what exactly are you wanting to see clearer?'

"You."

You blink aside your astoundment, straightening. "What?"

Your question is left unanswered because a man enters and sits across the two of you, a loud huff of annoyance leaving his mouth. It's not just his disposition but the architecture of his face that grabs your attention. He looks like an AI robot so perfectly crafted with coloured lips and flawless skin that you end up staring till Yangyang elbows you.

“He’s not an AI,” Yangyang whispers.

You furrow your brows and notice it is, in fact, true that he's not an AI. There are no ridges over the joints or hollowness in the eyes. He wears the same frost-patterned smart lenses as Yangyang does. However, it doesn't change the fact that the man is beautiful to look at.

“I’m never hosting a new year party again,” he mutters, sinking into the couch.

“It actually sounds kind of fun,” Yangyang interjects. “I can’t wait for my turn.”

“I’m sorry. Good luck standing at Longhua temple for three hours till midnight just to make sure nothing goes wrong. Without dinner.”

Yangyang makes a face at that.

"That's Sicheng-ge," he says, turning to you. 

"Ah," you say in response, remembering the name vaguely. 

"He let us into Club 2," Yangyang says, noticing your lost expression.

"I think Kun's looking for you," Sicheng says, eyes trained at the back. 

His hands fidget with the dim blue buttons at the edge of the table, till a small compartment reveals itself under the glass. An old world-style cigarette is slowly pushed up and Sicheng picks it up. He offers the next one to Yangyang, who accepts it hesitantly. No one smokes tobacco anymore when nicotine is so readily available. Alas, human nature is to want things deadly and out of reach.

“So how’s Cat?” Yangyang asks, fumbling with the plasma lighter he picked from a compartment on the side.

Sicheng smiles a little, the smoke from his cigarette snaking around him as he raises a hand to dissipate it.

“She’s doing fine. Running everything as usual.”

“Of course. Boss lady.” Yangyang does an awkward salute.

“Oh, a new hair color too. As pretty as flower fields in the spring of ‘22.”

Sicheng’s lovesick rambling is interrupted by Yangyang hacking his lungs out. You turn to him and he avoids your gaze, reaching for a crystal blue  glass of water one of the helper bots offer. So, he’s not even a smoker? Why did he think you would care? 

“Anyway, Kun is glaring daggers at me now. You better get out of here.” Sicheng grimaces.

You turn around to see Kun by the bar table, gesturing towards Yangyang to come. You're not sure why but either of those men make you nervous. 

"I'll be right back," Yangyang says, scrambling up and leaving you in a long awkward silence with Sicheng.

“So, uh, I’m assuming you’re oblivious to that lovestruck puppy following you around?” Sicheng asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or is this some game you guys are into? I’m not judging you for that.”

Your face heats up and you fidget with your collar. “The- A what? Game? Uh? I- huh?”

Sicheng tries to press down his smile but it’s evident enough for you to see. Did you say something funny? Did Yangyang say something funny about you? Oh, you’re going to kill him.

“For all that he talks, he’s kind of terrible at pulling together his own love life.” 

“I- I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

It still unnerves you to look at him. He certainly looks more android than human when he’s not making any particular expression.

“Don’t mind me,” he says, offering you a reassuring smile. “You should find Yangyang before he lands the two of you in trouble.”

You turn to look at Yangyang through the glass and turn back nodding. Sicheng offers you a parting smile and you hesitantly make your way to the bar table.

"This isn't in my job description," Kun tells Yangyang just before you arrive. "I didn't know being a lawyer included babysitting."

The tips of Yangyang's ears heat up when he notices you.

"It's not babysitting," he murmurs. “Also, you’re not my mom.”

"You, Ten, Kunhang, all of you give me such a hard time," he continues but pauses right when he notices you. 

"Oh, hello. (Name), isn't it?" He says, smiling politely. He's quite young and handsome for a lawyer. "Yangyang talks about you a lot."

"Oh," you respond. "Really?"

Yangyang glares at the older man. "You don't have to say everything, Kun-ge."

"You interested in law?" Kun asks, offering you a seat between him and Yangyang.

You make a face. The law is a tool for the rich and powerful. But then again, what isn’t? The world is in your hands when you have billions to spare. However, you still can’t imagine being a rich man's guard dog your whole life.

Kun chuckles. "You kids are interested in tech more, aren't you?"

Yangyang interrupts, "You talk like you're fifty years old."

Kun grimaces, resting his face against his hand. Shooting a glare at Yangyang, he finishes the rest of his wine.

You're not exactly interested in tech or engineering or the big kid jobs either. You just want a way to survive this man-made food chain. Rich eats the world till there’s nothing left on the plate. Then again, you'd rather be a pet than get eaten.

"Anyway," Kun turns to Yangyang. "If you see Ten, give me a call."

Yangyang signals with a thumbs up gesture, watching as Kun’s figure slowly makes its way out of the gate. It’s the two of you again and suddenly, you feel a strange sort of feeling overcome you. Leaning your throbbing forehead against Yangyang’s shoulder, you take some soft breaths and skip the part where you question your actions. It’s pleasant, at the very least. He shifts his chair closer, extending his arm around you so that your head rests against his shoulder more comfortably.

“You must be tired,” he mutters.

“You didn’t answer me,” you say. “Answer in a way I understood, at least.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you hang around me?”

“Do you not… want me to?”

“No. I like your company, actually. I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Yangyang laughs. “You’re… you’re really perfect. As a person. At least to me, you seem that way.”

You scoff. “You’re a long way off there.”

“No. No, you felt like clockwork,” he continues. “When I first met you. I couldn’t believe you were real.”

You do work like a delirious robot on clockwork steroids. But you’re not very proud of it. You don’t think overworking is a good personality trait to have—even if it’s for survival. However, the faraway look in Yangyang’s eyes suggests that’s not what he means.

“I felt like I understood you,” he continues after a short pause.

You find it unbelievable. That’s the one sentence you could never imagine coming from him to you, much less agree with. But right then, as his warmth seeps into you, you want to agree desperately.

Yangyang feels an unexpected trickle of doubt down his throat. No matter how many times he’s practised in front of the mirror, the words don’t come out right when you’re with him. With everything you do, he feels more drawn in. There’s something familiar and something honest. And if he’s honest himself, he just likes you. What sort of a hypocrite should he be categorized as, to tell his friends to ‘just confess’ to their crushes when he’s a complete idiot when it comes to you? It can’t be that little voice from his childhood that tells him to stay in order.

Yangyang understands that there are rules to this world but he doesn’t get what those have got to do with him. He sighs, the sound somewhat grim when it comes from him.

"I've seen it before," he says, "People come from all over the country with hopes and dreams, and they get their hearts broken by capitalism."

You frown.

"I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbles. "I hope you'll stay… even if- even if you feel like that, you know? If you're feeling lonely, I could—"

"Yangyang." You smile. "I’m quite comfortable here."

When you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, Yangyang thinks this is it. This is how he ends the sorry excuse of flirting he’s been trying with you and says something he regrets. It was never this difficult with the other crushes he’s had. He’s always left opening his mouth and then promptly closing it like a goldfish out of water every single time he wants to bring up dating with you. He’s always honest. So, what’s the big deal this time? This is so horrendously not cool of him.

You straighten. “We should get back home.”

“Can you- Can you not move so far from me, please?” Yangyang murmurs, hands gripping yours.

You smile, to yourself more to him but that’s one he likes the most.

“You’re a really interesting person, Yangyang.”

“I am?” He clears his throat and repeats the question. 

“How are you so nice to people?”

“I think people are nice.”

“Why do you like parties?”

“They’re fun.”

“When the party’s over, who do you go to?” you ask, words mushing into each other.

“Home,” he answers, gulping down what seems like more words. “Like always.”

A hush falls between the two of you. You’re asking quite the questions.

“I’m sweaty,” you mutter. “I hate being sweaty.”

“You look wonderful though,” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Not that being sweaty makes you wonderful. You’re just nice.”

There’s another hush, the notes of the piano playing a faraway, romantic tune. He turns away and looks back at you again, but right in that moment, you lean forward to press your lips against his. It’s so sudden that he almost falls over backwards, his feet planted firmly on the ground the only thing preventing that from happening. The next thing he thinks is that your lips are on fire and it’s the most comfortable feeling he’s ever experienced. 

The two of you fit into each other like clockwork, Yangyang thinks. It’s the one thing in his life that feels whole. Not that he isn’t whole by himself—he just loves your warmth. For a moment he feels like he’s on cloud nine and the next, his heart plummets when he feels you go limp in his arms. 

It breaks his heart a little but he doesn’t—can’t bring himself to say much. He’s not this bad when he’s drunk, is he? Pulling you up by the waist, he texts Kunhang to bring his car down to the lounge.

This is going to be a long night.

viii. home 

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and immediately know you're someplace you shouldn't be. This isn't your bed. The sun doesn't reach your bed in the morning. This isn’t the dormitory. You see a cubical alarm clock, a pixelated smiley face on it as it displays 10 A.M.

You get up and immediately shriek. You’re not wearing any clothes. Pulling the blanket up to your chin, you look around the room. It’s huge; the walls are multicolored with a little section opposite the bed reserved for photographs. There’s a lot of junk all over the floor that you don’t pay mind to when you notice Yangyang.

“Yangyang?!”

He rouses blinking slowly, hair going every which way and his eyes still unfocused. He looks like he’s had a difficult night.

“Why are you on the floor?” you ask, shrinking further into the ridiculously soft bed when he gets up. Massaging the back of his neck, he looks like he's looking at a mirage instead of a real live person. Unfortunately, he’s not wearing a shirt and you look away after a prolonged minute of staring. This is getting ridiculous. What are you doing here?

“Yangyang!”

“Huh? Oh!”

He seems to be finally awake. You should pop the question before it eats you alive.

"Did- Did we…?"

Yangyang blinks at you in confusion before a loud "oh" erupts from his mouth.

"No!" He says in between laughter. "No, we didn't. Oh my god, you’re so funny. You took off your clothes saying it's too hot and smacked me with them. I didn’t look, by the way.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t even form words through the pulsing headache.

“Your clothes are on the chair. And I didn’t touch your underwear. Out of respect."

You avoid eye contact in embarrassment. 

“And… well, you did kiss me once. Twice.”

You look up alarmed and he raises his arms in defense. 

“You- you were drunk so I had to push you off. You cried a little after that. Sorry.”

“Oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, sitting down on the bed. That has to be the most embarrassing thing you could have done.

“You- Don’t worry about that. You’re a good kisser. I was kind of surprised,” he offers in an attempt to make you feel better but you only grow hotter in the face.

“And- And I liked it,” he adds in a panic. “Wait, I don’t mean it in a creepy way.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t anyone else.”

“What?”

“You. It’s okay if it’s you.”

You give him a weak smile, still not over the embarrassment.

Yangyang laughs. “I… I think I should’ve said this before but… can I take you out on a date?”

“What were we doing last night then?”

“Well, that was- ah. You’re teasing me. Motherfucker.”

You giggle into your palm. When he takes a seat on the bed, you make a distressed sound and he jumps up immediately.

“My clothes,” you hiss. “Get out of the room so I can wear them.”

“Right,” he says, pointing an index finger at you.

He turns around right then. "By the way…"

You shriek, pulling the cover up all the way to your nose.

"Sorry," he says, averting his eyes immediately. "If- if that was a date, did you like it? Do you wanna go on another one?"

You can see him practically sweat bullets and you laugh at the innocuous questions. He’s too cute. You can’t believe you made yourself shake off the thought every time it crossed you. However indelicate his touch is, you welcome it nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes, I'll go on a date with you. You annoying, stupid, bratty idiot." 

“Okay, that was mean.”

Watching his figure leave through the door, you relax your shoulders. In the end, people will always be people. No matter what shiny new toy you give them to play with, people will always search for happiness, and they will laugh and cry and fall in love with people and places and things over and over again. It's lovely to be human in an era of diamond and steel.

#yangyang x reader #nct x reader #wayv x reader #yangyang scenarios #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #yangyang fanfic #nct fanfic #yangyang fic #moonwrites #dawg idk what im doing imma be honest here

[thelighthousestale]

Constant as the Northern Star

Fifteen-year-old Harry Potter sat at the warm dark kitchen table of Grimmauld Place. His elbows were on the table and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose causing his round glasses to lay askew on his face. His astronomy homework was spread out in front of him. He was pretty sure it was mocking him.

"Use the knowledge of coordinate graphing and ordered pairs to create a map of the Summer Sky in the Northern Hemisphere."

The stars and planets on his parchment seem to refuse to align themselves into the neat patterns Professor Sinistra had described in class. Frustration gnawed at him, but he was determined to conquer the assignment, or at least finish the homework before Hermione nagged him again.

A door creaked open and Harry looked up to see his godfather, Sirius Black enter the room. His tall frame filled in the doorway as he observed Harry for a moment, taking the mess Harry had made of his kitchen table before he made his way to the table.

"Having some trouble with homework, Harry?" Sirius asked, pulling up a chair beside him and leaning back against the chair until the two front legs hovered above the ground.

Harry sighed, pushing his parchment away. "Yeah, astronomy. I can't seem to make sense of it. It's just a bunch of dots to me. I asked Lupin to help before he left this morning but he apologized and said he had slept through most of his astronomy classes"

Sirius let out a small chuckle as he picked up the sextant that Harry was using as a paperweight "Yeah, he was always fond of a nap. Always tired, the poor sod. Could never get him to a class before ten in the morning either."

Harry was reminded of the first time he met Lupin, sleeping on the Hogwarts Express. Hermione and Ron thought he was dead. Before Harry could share the memory Sirius gave Harry a surprising offer, "Well, I used to be quite good at Astronomy. Want me to help you out?"

Harry's green eyes narrowed as he looked at his closed textbook. As if trying to judge the seriousness of the question. "You would do that?"

"Of course," Sirius replied with a warm smile. "I always enjoyed stargazing. You know, it's not just about memorizing constellations; it's about understanding the origins of the universe and the evolution of life and matter. Especially when you get to the more theoretical stuff if you take NEWT level."

Harry silently nodded. The only time he could remember an adult offering to help with his homework was Florean Fortescue the summer before his third year.

Sirius began to explain the basics of charting the stars. He helped Harry renumber the coordinates on his parchment and shared a few facts about the stars they were charting as they worked their way along the map. Sirius enthusiastically discussed the differences between Hipparchus' and  Ptolemy's star catalogs and the importance of the Dunhuang Star map.

As Harry did his best to absorb the knowledge, he looked at Sirius with curiosity. "How did you become so good at Astronomy? Did you want to be an astronomer?"

Sirius's expression grew somber and gave a dark snort. "No, didn't really have time to think about a career before. Went straight into fighting a war and then, well you know what happened after."

It dawned on Harry for the first time how young Sirius and his parents were during the first war. That they didn't even have time to think about their careers before getting swept up in the last war.

"We didn't share many interests or beliefs," Sirius set down the quill he was holding and turned his body to face Harry while he spoke "But stargazing as a hobby was something that I always enjoyed doing with my father. It was an interest that we could share together." Sirius looked over Harry's shoulder and pushed a long strand of hair out of his face. Harry thought Sirius' eyes must be lingering on the Black Family crest on the wall behind him "Looking at the stars always brought me peace, Harry, even in the darkest of times."

Harry pondered this for a moment before asking, "Can you show me how to find London in the night sky? I'd like to know where you are while I'm at Hogwarts."

Sirius's eyes twinkled and he gave Harry a small smile. "Certainly, Harry. Let me show you some basics of celestial navigation."

Sirius picked up the quill again and emphasized how knowing the location of the North Star was crucial for navigation. He showed Harry tips on how to easily find the North Star and described the concept of Polaris as a constant guide in the night sky.

One summer later, locked up in Privet Drive, Harry looked out his tiny bedroom window and charted the stars the way his godfather had taught him and found the brightest star in the sky, Sirius, in the vast celestial expanse.

Though exhausted with grief, Harry felt a warmth that went beyond the summer sky and the boundaries of time and distance. In the darkest moments, Harry would look up at the stars, knowing that he could always find his way, guided not just by the north star but by the glow of the brightest star, by the love of a godfather who would always, in some way, be a part of his life.

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #sirius black #harry and sirius #harry potter and sirius black #ootp missing moment

[clarebear-0925]

Flowers, Fight Scenes and Isolation: My Prediction for the Future (And Possible Ending) of Jujutsu Kaisen

Hi. So seeing this extra for volume 26 finally spurred me to articulate all of my thoughts on this subject in one place. Sorry for the length, but let me cook.

Here's the big idea: I believe that Gojo is in fact going to come back— but with a major catch.

Lets review the (mostly theme-based) evidence, shall we?

Firstly, throughout the entire series, we know that Gojo has been incredibly lonely, isolated at the top by Jujutsu society,

As summed up by this iconic panel, with just him, vast empty white space, and his title, the only thing that most people know him for/define him by, aka “the strongest.”

We also know that isolation played a big role in his mental state and thinking until his death, and is something that Gege made sure to reemphasize during his last moments in chapter 236.

In this conversation, Gojo expresses the gap he felt and also sets up the connected imagery of him and flowers.

(In addition, I feel as though it is also significant that the person he finally opens up to about his feelings on this isolation is Geto- more on that later).

Next, JJK is commonly nicknamed “jumpkaisen” as a joke by fans due to how often the characters team up against the villains. However, I think this pattern actually has more significance in the overall narrative than being a funny quirk.

Over the course of the series, we have seen all sorts of teamups between a wide variety of characters- like the widespread jumpkaisen nickname suggests, they are an iconic part of JJK's combat.

However, one character in particular is exempt from this trend- Gojo. (and also Sukuna but we’ll get into that later too.)

He is always fighting alone- as an adult, we never see him fight alongside anyone else the way that other characters do. Even the villains note this when planning their battle strategy:

This is is made especially clear in the final battle (especially with the contrast between the mostly solo Gojo v Sukuna fight and the absolute dogpile that is going on in the manga right now).

The only times we ever saw Gojo fighting alongside another person is with Geto in his youth. Geto is also the only person who didn’t him as “the strongest.” Instead, they were the strongest together, and that is reflected in how they fought together.

But then after everything in Hidden Inventory, Geto too starts to see that gap between him and Gojo.

This results in him leaving Gojo, thus permanently isolating him as “the strongest.” (See also the change from "we're the strongest" in the Hidden Inventory Arc to "I'm the Strongest" in JJK episode 2).

We never see him fight with another person after that.

Ok, so now let’s put these two points (Gojo's isolation and its connection to the fight scenes) to serve up a prediction.

I believe that Gojo is going to come back severely weakened to the point that he will finally have to (or be able to) fight WITH others- in particular, the students who he has made it his express mission to protect and nurture so they can go on to improve Jujutsu society.

This would be in sharp contrast to Sukuna, who has continually refused any chance or notion of love and connection, likely due to his belief that it is unattainable due to his strength.

(Serena on TikTok has an amazing and concise video on this topic- go watch it if you're interested in a better understanding)

I also think that this development would be a great way to show that Gojo HAS been successful in his goal to nurture a better future of Jujutsu- rather than the society isolating and systematically breaking students like it did Geto, the students are now all working together to defeat this insurmountable evil.

So, in conclusion, yes, Sukuna will in fact be defeated by the power of love and friendship (and a couple dozen or so black flashes), and it is NOT Gojover.

Also, here is some vital supplemental information (again from the amazing Serena) regarding the flower depicted on Gojo’s cover and the volume 26 extra.

I think the fact that Gojo compared himself to a flower in Chapter 236 as he died, and the fact that the flower in the supplemental (who he is clearly connected to via the cover art) hasn’t hit the ground yet is a very good (and more concrete) sign for his chances of returning.

Thank you for reading and sorry for the length! I would love to know your guys' thoughts on this theory and what you think will happen in the future of JJK! :)

#hi i know i already posted this but i cleaned it up to post on reddit so take the cleaner version here too!! #jjk manga spoilers #jjk #jjk theory #gojo satoru #my ramblings #clare’s tedtalks

[hobiebrownismygod]

ooooh i just had a thought

what if while Hobie was part of the Spider-Society he fell in love with a Gwen Stacy (except they’re not Gwen Gwen because we already have a Gwen) variant that was Spider-Woman and then they got badly injured on a mission he was on with them? and he got the biggest scare of his life because of the whole “death loves gwen stacy” thing

and they actually turn out to be fine and recover fairly quickly

idk i think it might be interesting to explore a more vulnerable & sad side to Hobie

(none of this makes sense in canon but it’s a cool angsty fanfic idea!)

or maybe they actually do end up dying and it’s one of his canon events who knows

WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE WTF

I’m gonna write it

Hobie Brown x Gwen Stacy Variant Oneshot

Notes: Gwen Marie Stacy is NOT Spider-Gwen. She's a different Spider-man variant of Gwen that I made up for this prompt. She doesn't look like Gwen Stacy either, I describe her differently :).

THIS IS NOT A HOBIE X SPIDER-GWEN SHIP PLS DO NOT MAKE IT INTO ONE. I DO NOT SUPPORT GHOSTPUNK.

____________________________________________________________

No. No no no no no no no.

This is all my fault.

These were the thoughts that passed through Hobie's mind as he frantically sprinted through the Spider Society, pushing other Spiders out of his way, swinging toward the health center as quickly as he could, friends following behind.

It had been approximately 2 and a half minutes since Lyla had informed him of the incident. He'd been in his dimension, practicing on his guitar as he usually did. His fingers strumming the strings in complex patterns, producing a punchy rhythm. His dark lips would move just slightly as he quietly murmured little lyrics about her. The girl he never thought he'd find. The love of his life. Gwen Marie Stacy.

You see, Hobie wasn't your average guy when it came to relationships. He didn't like them. He found them overrated, boring. He'd never even liked a girl or guy romantically before, there was always something that didn't settle well between them. And besides, he didn't think he'd find a girl who shared the same beliefs as him, someone who was just as willing to stick up for what she believed in as he was. Someone he could really share things with, someone he could be vocal with, someone who understood him and vice versa. That was, until he met her.

She was like a flame, casting a warm glow onto everyone around her, striking blue eyes the color of perfect raindrops, and raven black hair, flowing down her shoulders as if it came from the very same place as the stars. The day he'd met her he promised he'd do everything in his power to protect that heavenly smile, to make sure he heard her sweet laugh every time he saw her. But now...she was hurt. She could die.

He couldn't let that happen.

He burst through the doors of the health center, desperately swiveling his head around in every direction, searching for those ocean-colored eyes, those soft pink lips that he adored.

Come on, come on, where is she?!

"Gwen! Gwen where are you!?" he called out miserably, his voice shaky with fear. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he waited for a response.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Silence.

No...no...

He couldn't lose her.

Ever since he'd learned about the canon event. Ever since he'd discovered every Gwen Stacy's fate, he hadn't been able to sleep. He was plagued with nightmares, tormented by the fear of his love's death being by his hand. He know that if he fell in love with Gwen Marie Stacy, she would die.

And selfishly, he fell in love with her anyways. But how could he not? How could he not want to be with the girl of his dreams, that gorgeous face, that voice? He knew he'd be the death of her. But he wanted her anyways.

This is my fault.

He could have at least been there. How could he let her out of his sight? How could he leave her alone knowing she would get hurt? Knowing that she'd have to face a gruesome fate? A fate brought to her by his hands?

Gwen Stacy always falls for Spider-man. And it doesn't end well.

It doesn't end well.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Hobie?"

And it was like he'd heard an angel. And there she was. Her hand raised as she waved over at him, hair flowing down her shoulders like a river of ink, azure eyes slightly squinted as she beamed over at him. The breath was knocked out of him as he bolted to her side as fast as humanly possible, combat boots skidding across the floor as he collapsed next to her hospital bed and grabbed her hands, enveloping them in his.

"I-I'm sorry-I-I-This is my fault-I-my-fault"

"Slow down, I can't understand you." She shot him a smile, sitting up and squeezing his hand back. God those gorgeous eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to suppress his tears. "S'all my fault. I should've never left you alone, I got you hurt" He choked out, words slurring together as he blabbered, his voice wavering with his repressed sobs.

"What? I'm fine, Hobes. It was just a couple stitches."

He looked up, eyebrows furrowing as he processed this information. Fine?

"You-you're okay?" he asked quietly, chest rising up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

"I'm okay." her smile sent a wave of warmth down his body, and he returned one along with a quiet chuckle. It was like all the fear, all the terror just melted out of his body, those reassuring eyes of hers doing everything to calm him down. He was ecstatic, breathing slowly slowing down and regulating itself as he nodded at her.

"You-you gave me a real scare there" He said quietly, feeling a bit embarrassed at himself at this point.

"Yeah, Lyla was being a bit dramatic about it." she said sheepishly, giving his hand a squeeze. "Sorry."

"Don't be." He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her with a quiet sigh, breathing in that green apple scent.

"I'm just glad you're safe"

____________________________________________________________

A/N: I tried to do a bit of vivid imagery for my description of Gwen and Hobie's feelings but I'm not sure if it really worked out 😅. Hopefully it wasn't too wordy or difficult to read and if you have any feedback, please let me know!

#across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #miles morales #atsv hobie #beyond the spiderverse #spiderman #gwen stacy #Gwen Stacy variant #hobart brown #atsv brainrot #spider punk #hobie brown headcanons #hobie brown x oc #oc x Hobie brown #spiderman oc #spiderwoman #hobie spiderverse #spiderman across the verse #spiderverse hobie #into the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse oc #across the spider verse #atsv fanfic #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown my beloved

[ewingstan]

So all the wildbow protags seem to have some frog-being-boiled trick about them where you are nodding your head along with all their choices and then look up from where you started and start noticing how bonkers things have gotten. But how exactly that manifests differs between books in pretty interesting ways.

Taylor makes a bunch of choices that read as understandable for an awkward teenager trying to make the best out of a bad situation, but it doesn’t take long before those choices become pretty clearly (although crucially often not to the extent that they would stick out while reading through the first time) indicative of a much higher willingness to use people as tools than the norm, not be motivationally hindered by empathy, etc. And of course in hindsight a lot of her choices are less careful utility calculus and more an expression of her desire for friendship and control as well as her need to be invaluable in whatever circumstance she finds herself in.

Blake has a much more prototypical set of ethics and motivations, and these largely don’t change throughout the text. He starts and ends as your stock angry but fundamentally “good” YA protagonist. He’s just put into situations where the morals of that type of character means he acts like a horror movie monster. Which is a pretty neat thing for a text to do, to take your typical Percy Jackson-esque character and show that “hey if you put him in enough situations then he could end up asking a facebook group of teenage girls if they want him to kill any of their husbands.”

Sylvester is an interesting case because he starts performing actions the audience would consider objectionable well before they’d get acclimated to it as they could in the case of Taylor or Blake. He performs extrajudicial killings of rouge academics for the government using manipulation and underhanded tactics while peeking up people’s shirts. It’d be tempting to say that his gradual transformation is into an okay person, and that might be true to an extent—the seeds to him eventually rebelling from the academy get planted early and slow shifts in his perspective before that point could be detected going a while back. I don’t think that would be the whole story though. It would probably be more accurate to say that you don’t notice how much Sy’s matured until he’s at the point of rewriting his personality to an adult’s persona.

Its much too early in my reading of Ward to be able to say if the pattern is going to hold. But I found it interesting to see one of the big morally questionable decisions be made early, and in a pretty noticeable way. I’m talking about Victoria secretly tailing Rain home after the capture-the-flag game, after he specifically denied her offer to follow him for protection. It doesn’t read as totally unjustified or anything, she is doing it to protect someone’s life when she has good reason to think its threatened. But she’s also doing it because she’s suspicious Rain’s been lying. And she flies in uncomfortable conditions for hours to find out what he’s up to. Its a huge breach of privacy, and while well-intentioned, it does read strongly as Cop Shit™. And while I only have my own response to the text to go off of, it kind of feels like it was meant to be framed as a pretty ethically questionable act on Vicky’s part. So if I was reading this with no knowledge of the story, I might think “Oh, wildbow’s done the here’s-how-being-in-the-social-position-of-the-criminal-puts-certain-behavioral-pressures-on-you story, now he’s doing the here’s-how-being-in-the-social-position-of-the-protector/peacekeeper-puts-certain-behavioral-pressures-on-you story. We’re gonna see how the moral beliefs that make someone strongly want to be a superhero, and the system of designated “heroes” they get slotted into, cause a lot of shitty behaviors.” But from everything I’ve heard, that is very much not the type of story I’ll be getting! This isn’t the “ACAB doesn’t exclude the well-intentioned cops” story, this is the “we do need a carceral justice system because people need to face punishment for past crimes and also some people are just inherently evil” story. And right now I’m not seeing how we get there?

#taylor hebert #victoria dallon #blake thorburn #sylvester lambsbridge #ward #parahumans #worm #wildbow #pact #twig #otherverse #leo reads ward #leo says

[gali-in-distress]

Diagnosing Nigel Colbie

This is going to be a long post

In an attempt to gain a better understanding of Nigel as a character, I decided to find a Psychopathological diagnosis that, in my opinion, would fit him, because to me it's very obvious that he's not what you would call a neurotypical individual.

Here is my diagnosis FOR NOW:

Disclaimer: I'm a psychology student, I didn't just made this up. That being said, I am only a student and lack the experience to be certain that this diagnosis is accurate. Secondly, Nigel is a fictional character, aka not a real person therefore it's impossible to truly diagnose him as you would do to a real person. I advice against using this as a guide to diagnose anyone irl, obviously.

CW: mentions of psychiatry terms, personality disorders and mental illnesses.

Semiology:

Qualitative disorders of affective nature

Indifferent behavior.

Incongruity : refered to having opposed emotional reactions to events that would normally have a different effect on people.

Irritability: exaggerated response to frustrated psychological needs.

In many instances Nigel shows almost no response to violent acts against himself or others. He acts coldly and is apparently unaffected by events that would at the very least upset anyone.

At the same time he reacts very intensively to being rejected by Alex at the very end.

I am almost 100% certain that when he went after Alex with the shotgun he was having a psychotic episode.

Cognitive disorders in relation to the Thinking Process:

Autistic thinking: presents itself as disconnected from reality.

Note: (Autistic thinking doesn't mean he's autistic, that's just the scientific term for that particular symptom)

Fixations.

Delusions of grandeur.

Delusions of reference: refered to an egocentric psychological development responsible for making the patient think that some things that happen in real life are directly related to them, gifting personal significance to unrelated events.

Nigel has very strong beliefs that he does not hide from Alex. He thinks they both are part of a line of great men destinated to bigger things. He finds connections in stories that, in his mind, ultimately lead to him and Alex, putting them both in the center of a prophecy of sorts. He is obsessed about this narrative he has created and eventually also obsesses over Alex and their relationship.

Conative disorders:

Altered social behavior manifested as reticence and homicidal and necrophiliac impulses.

Disordered relationship with self and others.

Nigel is presented as an introverted character who rarely speaks at the beginning of the story. Once he begins pulling Alex inside of his narrative, it's when we can see him be more open and sociable, but otherwise he doesn't seem to have any friends or relationships outside of Alex and his family. He doesn't seem interested in having them either. This itself wouldn't necessarily be a sign of a disorder, but, in addition to his violent and harmful behavior, it does create a pattern.

So far the final diagnosis I'm going for is Schizoid Personality Disorder.

Might elaborate on that later.

Update: Diagnosing Nigel Colbie Part II

#I honestly don't think that anyone cares #but I'm putting it out here cause why not #this is just my perosnal take on this I know some people might disagree and that's fine #like minds #like minds 2006 #like minds movie #murderous intent #murderous intent movie #nigel colbie #nigel colbie is not ok #like minds analysis #nigel colbie analysis #psychology #fandom psychology #semiology #diagnosing nigel colbie #overthinking movies cause why not #tom sturridge #tom sturridge filmography #diagnosing nigel

[crossguild]

uuuugh having kepler thots again

information from his official profile & backstory episodes: - captain in goddard intelligence by ~32 and stayed there - has 'worked in practically every department of the conglomerate' - a 'very large part of that time' was spent under cutter's direct supervision

conclusions we can draw from this: dude started at goddard YOUNG. a tech conglomerate has dozens of departments; to have worked through them all by his early 30s and qualify as a 'long-time' employee, you could easily interpret that he started in. idk. straight out of high school? earlier?

other general facts we can glean from the canon: - goddard futuristics has a pattern of scooping up people who have estranged/no families - cutter has a pattern of offering people deals that sound almost too good to be true, only to manipulate them and bend them to his objectives

conclusions: we saw how badly things turned out for eiffel after 15 minutes with cutter, and how messed up pryce is after spending decades with him. it's not hard to conclude that cutter's influence on kepler goes pretty deep, especially considering how he's actively modeled himself after cutter in many ways. i'm always wondering like. did cutter teach him how to dress? how to act? how to eat good food and enjoy balvenie? i mean. shit. probably.

interesting stuff from his playlist: - don't stop me now (i'm having a good time!) - fire and rain (i've seen fire, and i've seen rain) - tombstone blues (momma's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes; daddy's in the alley, looking for food) - blue monday (how does it feel, to treat me like you do?)

conclusions: this dude came from some hard times. how much of his devotion to goddard is predicated on how the company helped him out of a bad situation and the belief that it would do the same for others? there's a lot of lines in tombstone blues that really speak to what he is in the current day, like, u know, continued references to a 'commander-in-chief' that's hard to interpret as anyone but cutter.

'hey, if you show emotion or weakness, you deserve to die, also i'm going to feed you a lie and you have no choice but to swallow it'

and the quick blurb from gabriel urbina himself about how 'don't stop me now' is kepler's mvp track, and even in that paragraph he says that the choices kepler has made, the ways that he has chosen to present himself and move forward, could very well be an act that even he's not aware he's putting on. there are so many layers of self-delusion on this dude but u can kinda see where it comes from.

and. it's more tragic than anything, but he's not a character who ever asks for forgiveness or makes excuses about how he ended up where he did, nor will he ever tell you anything about himself on any real level. like how do you sustain a traumatic enough brain injury when you're 10 to lose memory of a whole year? haha well, long story short...

#there's so much more from tombstone blues that im insane about but ill save that for another day #wolf 359 #warren kepler

[winn-schott-throughtheheart]

hello, all. I present to you a long list of why Winn Schott is Autistic as Hell:

• academically gifted

• stims- hand flappies, plays with his shirt, fidget spinner, lots of trinkets to play with, fidgets a lot, scratching/rubbing the back of his neck, playing with his tie, etc

• star wars special interest- frequently makes references, talks about it a lot, 2x01, 3x09, etc

• also superman special interest or old hyperfixation perhaps: strong long term memory, able to recall exact details of past fights

• doctor who/orphan black, etc, scifi in general also - comfort and routine in fictional worlds

• Genius™- picks up on info that trained agents couldn't after spending an hour at the DEO 1x13, makes Superman's new suit 2x01/2 (?), wrote the code that made literally everything after 5x11 possible, etc

• overwhelmed at lots of voices and shouting 2x11 - noise complexity issues

• that technically wasn't winn but since the Martian took all his memories/thoughts/mannerisms im going to count it as him

• complains that today's music is too loud 1x16

• wears headphones at both places of employment, 1x05, 2x05- noise processing issues again

• can easily go hours without taking a break if he's In The Zone, 1x15, 3x20

• bad social cues 1x13, 1x07, 3x02, 3x09, 2x16 etc etc

• learns a new alien coding language in less than 45 minutes

• learned kryptonian because he was bored

• hyperfocussss

• prefers to be alone- doesn't talk to anybody besides his friends much

• poor self esteem

• over analytical

• time blindness - "How is it still night time? it feels like it's been one week." 2x11

• sensory issues- certain smells - teak wood and tobacco, frequently wears headphones, scrunching his face up at having to wear rubber gloves

• frequently drinks soft drinks- sensory with the bubbles maybe??

• frequently eats more unhealthy things: more predictable in taste and texture than fruits/veg/organic foods.

• very expressive with his hands when talking

• hyper empathy- 3x02, training room scene

• bad at lying

• never noticed how bad his home life was

• awkward with emotions/bad at dealing with emotions 1x10, 1x20, 3x14, 5x12

• easily gives in to peer pressure

• panics under pressure

• routines- it takes a while for him to get used to Guardianing and Supering

• sensitive to temperature

• missing social cues when being questioned by Maggie, 2x16

• stimming - spinning on the stool 3x13

• special interests in techy stuff

• repetetive tasks?? likes taking stuff apart and putting it back together again

• awkward with hugs?? 3x18 at least

• shifting his weight when standing

• face rubbing/touching stim

• "if they like someone romantically, they can be extremely, noticeably awkward in attempts to let them know."

• difficulty making friends/approaching new people

• taking things literally?/ difficulty reading between the lines. "oh, things are not chill." social cues again 3x20

• prefers meaningful conversation over small talk

• ooh routine mayhaps might have been a part of 2x09

• daydreamer/deep thinker, e.g 3x14

• alexythemia - trouble identifying/describing their own/others emotions.

• see e.g- "oh, so I'm supposed to be feeling something? well I don't feel.... anything... I don't think..."

• typical gifted kid- "I always knew he was brilliant and capable-" at ten years old

• difficulty managing intense emotions- could also be PTSD. e.g, 1x10, 3x14, 1x11

• negative beliefs of self, again linked to PTSD

• intense connection to fictional worlds

• engaging in special interests very intently - 1x15, 3x20

• RSD maybe????

• strong long term memory

• pattern spotting/attention to detail, 2x14

• hyperfocus, again 3x20

• low trust in himself

• stimming by pacing, and also humming/singing, 2x16, 3x22, 2x20 (superfriends)

• could be echolalia after Kara maybe explained it cause he literally wasn't there

• clumsy - fine motor skills go brr

• "doesn't really do holidays," perhaps sensory overloads/sensory difficulties??

• or maybe thats just trauma

• or both

• quick/blunt remarks that could come off as rude

• 't-rex' arms

• sticking to the same clothing??

• talking to himself/thinking out loud

• takes his tablet almost everywhere- comfort item??

• stimming- moving his fingers idk like flapping/moving them up and down

• heightened sense of smell - "Oh, God, is that smell you?" like a second after bumping into Kara 1x02

• Kara knows about his Maxwell Lord obsession- hyperfixation/infodumping mayhaps??

• very very t-rex arms Jesus

• I'd make a compilation but God he's doing it in literally every scene I swear

• mumbles when writing code - idk if that's a thing it just seems very neurodivergent

• echolalia- repeats "turbulence" after Brainy in 3x11

• literal - 2x02, "actually, he said he would try."

• uses diagrams and drawings as a means to get points across - 3x22

• highly intelligent but can sometimes be slow to comprehend due to sensory and social difficulties

• stims to soothe when sad or agitated - face rubbing/touching, finger/foot tapping, etc

• similar when happy - jumping, dancing, singing, 2x09, 2x16

• anxiety and fear are prominent emotions

• proud of himself when he can distinguish tones - "Oh, I know that tone, that's a bad news tone" 2x09

• sitting on desks and tables

• sits weird - 2x14

• literally in the middle of an alien invasion and runs back to get his tablet

• genuine 'yep?' after cats sarcastic 'oh, Winslow,' when asked if she's ready 2x21

• prepares for the worst, always

• tapping his fingers 1x10 balcony scene

• tablet is a definite comfort/security item because it's been seen since 1x01. So.

• pacing to self soothe, 1x10, 2x09, 3x14, 5x11 etc

• unique thought process (voyager 3x11, satellites 1x13)

• finger wiggles!!! 3x09

• literally memorises a futuristic maths system to fix a futuristic ship better than the ships owner (someone from the future)

• sensory overload/overstimulation in 3x20 with ruby (coming off as easily irritated etc)

• has a fucking dirt collection

• which Mon-El of all people knows about, so he's either infodumped a whole bunch or they have sleepovers

• always making references

• keeps random shit in his desk?? why does he need a whole toolbox in his desk at catco

• overclarifies himself ("that's like, that's like really fast"); struggles with understanding things sometimes so when he's explaining stuff he explains in more detail the stuff that normally he wouldn't understand.

• relieved hand flappies after stopping indigos missile 1x15

• disinterest in sports/physical activity

• " I was a theatre kid, not a track star!"

• "youthful" for his age: in dresses, activities, tastes, etc

• fictional worlds as a retreat/safe space/coping mechanism

• "may have a strong interest in computers, games, science, graphic design, inventing, things of a technological and visual nature"

• emotionally sensitive

• hates injustice/being misunderstood

• words and actions are often misunderstood by others

• doesn't go out much: only really shown 'out' with his friends/'safe' people (barring that one time in 2x20)

• actually having said that he was probably only in the marketplace because he knew James was going to be there

• when he was at the bar alone in 2x13

• difficulty regulating voice volume - "too loud." "I'm sorry-" 2x14

• "high and to the.. left?" - struggles with fine motor skills and lefts/rights 2x07

• "head north. or, wait, more helpfully.... left."

• stimming with his mask in 3x16

• memory again: remembers where he was told his mum and dad met from over twenty years ago in 3x14, immediate correction "I thought you two met in Ivy Town?"

• fine motor skills again when he breaks the thing in the bathroom on the legion ship 3x17 (?)

• also "I broke something" in 1x07

• wears "restrictively tight" cardigans - comforted by deep pressure therapy

• chicken wings as a safe food

• he also immediately knows what's so important about flight 237 in 3x04- remembers exact details about Supergirl much like he does with Superman

• awkward gait

#winn schott #protects the stars #autism #supergirl crack #crack? #evidence #he is autistic and you can fight me #autistic winn schott #supergirl

[random-thought-depository]

My mom was channel-surfing last night and we ended up watching a few episodes of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. I noticed it implicitly suggested some interesting things about how small businesses fail and some uncomplimentary things about how "small business owner" works as a social role.

I saw episodes covering three restaurants (including the infamous Amy's Baking Company) and there were certain patterns that kept recurring. Each of these restaurants was owned and managed by a middle-aged to elderly married couple. Often the couple's adult children were working in the restaurant with them. So these are institutions where the capitalist employee-employer hierarchy is synthesizing with pre-capitalist family/gerontocratic/patriarchal hierarchies. And these couples are totally living that American Red Tribe "make capitalism democratic by bringing as many people as possible into the property-owning and business-owning classes" dream. And there was a repeating pattern where the regular employees could see the business's problems, even the adult children of the owner couple could see the business's problems, and all the problems seemed to basically come out of the owner couple, who had a lot of illusions about how well they were managing the restaurant and who seemed used to being big fish in a tiny pond.

In one case apparently everyone in the business could see the problems except for literally just one guy, but that one guy was the husband in the owner couple, and it seemed like the pre-Ramsay status quo was everything just kept running the way that one guy wanted things run even as his own son and wife were telling him there were problems. And it's pretty easy to see how that would happen: as the owner and patriarch that one guy thought his word should be the last word and had the clout and power to make things work that way.

And it didn't even seem like these owners were sealed in an information bubble, it seemed like other people (customers, their own staff, their own family members who also worked in the restaurant) would tell them that there were problems but what those people said was dismissed. The problem didn't seem to be so much what information was reaching them as how they were interpreting that information. These owners tended to be people who'd worked in the restaurant for decades and thought they knew what they were doing because they had experience, but I suspect what happened was because of the power dynamics at work a lot of that experience consisted of them becoming more entrenched in what they were already doing, more entrenched in beliefs and behaviors that were comfortable for them, and more dismissive of contrary perspectives.

It made me wonder how much of Gordon Ramsay's role and value in this dynamic is just that he's somebody the local Emperor doesn't have power over who gets to tell the Emperor they have no clothes.

The Amy's Baking Company couple are internet meme level infamous, but I saw the same pattern with owners who seemed to be, to put it plainly, nicer and better-intentioned. In this context the ABC couple seemed less like an anomaly and more like an extreme example of a much bigger trend.

This seems like a dysfunction/failure state very strongly connected to the fact that these businesses are hierarchical institutions. It really makes me think of the thing David Graeber said about how power can make you stupid; when you have power you don't need to know things, so you don't.

I suspect a society where most businesses were worker-owned cooperatives would not have this problem as much. Though businesses like that would likely have other problems.

#class politics #institutions #Kitchen Nighmares #Gordon Ramsay #people are complicated

[darkpoisonouslove]

👀👀

I hope you won't be disappointed if I do something a little different for one of those two emojis.

You know those "TV show/movie/characters being a comedy/comedic duo for x number of minutes" videos? I started making "Scream 3 being a comedy..." a couple weeks back but due to technical difficulties I haven't finished it yet:

And here's a rough draft of a scene from the Griffin x Faragonda enemies to lovers AU:

Sylvia just... looked bored. She may as well have been more intrigued by the tile patterns on the wall had Griffin's frame not obscured them from her gaze.

Griffin's body didn't feel her own, cold and distant like a corpse instead. She would have shivered if she could move, despite her best efforts.

"You're not half the witch your mother was. How do you think a horde of rogue paladins broke through the defense spells on your house?"

Her words lacked cruelty as if Griffin wasn't even worth that much. Any kind of emotion would become an acknowledgement of Griffin as an obstacle at the very least. To Sylvia she was nothing of the sort... nothing.

"What?" she choked out, her voice like glass shards she was forcing up her closing throat.

It wasn't right. The bitter taste on her tongue wasn't spite, familiar and invigorating. Her stomach was in a knot, the sick feeling trapped inside instead of becoming rising nausea. Her heart hammered so fast in her ears it was like she was plugged in the power grid, electricity crackling through her limbs. Her sight blurred. It was usually razor sharp, trained on the face in front of her to catch the furrowed brow, the twitch of the mouth, all while she gritted her teeth to keep her own insides from spilling to escape the burn.

Anticipation crawled across her ribs, prickling with every breath as if to make sure that she didn't inhale too much air, that there was still room inside her for the rest of Sylvia's point, hanging unspoken in the air. Now spite wouldn't have had the same weight, wouldn't have loomed just as threateningly over their heads, twisting Sylvia's arm into talking simply to get Griffin out of her office and take her desperation with her.

Sylvia tilted her head - a kind of acknowledgement that cut to the bone. Coupled with her voice piercing through Griffin, it released some of the tension stretching her taut.

"A paladin's power comes from devotion to a cause. The moment one goes rogue, it puts a dent in his magic that lets more and more of it seep away. It's by design. Either he's forsaken an integral part of his cause or he put his devotion into an imperfect representation of it. Either way the awareness of that remains in the back of their mind and corrodes their power.

"A doubly-enforced defense spell would never fail to a type of caster with a crack in their own belief system if the magic was distributed evenly across it. If you put weight on a rope braided from steel threads and wool ones, which ones do you think will give way first? Your magic was the weak link in that spell."

Her teeth sank into her tongue. Fire raced her nerves and the metallic tang of blood choked her. It was the only thing keeping her from spitting out what she knew, from showing her hand like a fool. She'd be dead on the floor before she could even entertain the notion of posing a threat to the family image Sylvia had cultivated so carefully over decades. Information was only leverage if it could reach its destination.

"Too bad your mother decided to stay home and devote her life to you instead of putting her superior powers to use," Sylvia poured more salt into the wound as if Griffin was some demon that would be chased away or destroyed by it.

"I don't see you parading around with your daughter."

There was no change in the witch's expression. She was talking to a statue made of pure self-interest and cold calculation.

"Faragonda might be a disappointment but she got you, didn't she?"

#winx club #winx griffin #sylvia lydiriev #griffin x faragonda enemies to lovers au #snippet #fanfic snippet #excerpt #my wips #scream 3 #my videos #ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans

[ceterisparibus116]

Is it canon that Foggy grew up poor? I see the sentiment from a lot of people, that he pursued a job as a lawyer because he saw his family struggle as butchers. I don't know if it's a misconception on people's parts, but just because you run a butchers doesn't mean you're poor? It's like farming. Yes, there are poor farmers, but where I live, you can tell someone is a farmer because of the way they dress and the fact that their wallet can barely fit all the notes shoved into it.

This is an excellent question. I see it come up a lot (particularly to excuse Foggy's less-than-selfless professional choices).

And right off the bat, the common belief that Foggy grew up poor worries me, because it seems to equate "blue collar" with "poor" and that's very...yikes.

I'm not sure how you're defining "poor," but I'm defining it as "financially unstable." In other words, the question isn't, "Could Foggy and his family afford all the things they might have wanted?" but is instead, "Were financial concerns a consistent pattern in the Nelson family?"

And no, I can't think of any canon evidence that Foggy grew up in an environment of financial instability.

Here's what we know, that I think is relevant to this conversation:

Foggy is very motivated by money (he initially wanted to go into defense because there's "money" in that; he was willing to stay at L&Z despite admitting that he didn't think what they were doing was right; he wasn't going to represent Karen because she couldn't pay him; he was (initially) willing to take Healy's case without any research due to the zero's on the check; he ended up working for Hogarth despite admitting that he didn't care about his clients; etc.);

Foggy is motivated by status and nice things (he wants elevators and ergonometric chairs, and even as a kid, he went around telling people he owned his parent's store);

Foggy "hates being broke" (which we see him talk about in the present tense, since at that time (as an adult), he was poor while he was working with Matt);

Foggy's family is predominately blue collar (hence his comment about "breaking from the ranks" as a lawyer);

Foggy's parents own their own business;

Foggy's parents are too old to continue maintaining their business;

Foggy's brother can't carry the shop alone;

Foggy's family is seems to regard Foggy's career choices warily; and

Foggy's mother specifically seems to regard Foggy's career choice as abandoning the family.

Also, consider some pieces of evidence we don't see:

We don't see Foggy talking about how he "hated" being broke (past tense); and

We don't hear Foggy talking about being poor as a kid.

From this, I think we can infer that while Foggy didn't grow up wealthy, he didn't grow up poor. I especially don't see any evidence that Foggy grew up as poor as Matt (when he lived with Jack, and certainly when he was at St. Agnes).

Instead, Foggy grew up longing to be more than what those around him were. He wanted not just enough money but more than enough money. He wanted status.

In talking with some friends in a discord, some of them pointed out that Foggy's fascination with money seems to be less about survival, and more about justifying his choices to his family. He needs to be successful as a lawyer (ideally with easily recognizable indicators of success, such as fancy elevators) because it proves to his family that he made the right choice.

In other words, I actually think Foggy is less motivated by money per se, and more motivated by what money represents.

I think the way Foggy gravitates towards obvious symbols of wealth/status is especially interesting because his family doesn't seem interested in understanding how he can help people as a lawyer.

Contrast this with how Jack raised Matt: Jack never seemed to doubt for a second that Matt could use his brain to help people. Matt is seen openly talking to Jack about Thurgood Marshall. So even if Jack wasn't personally interested in law and justice, he made an effort of understanding Matt's passions.

I don't see that Foggy's family ever did the same for him. I don't know for sure, but I wonder if that contributes to his desire to have those obvious symbols of status and wealth. In his mind, how else can he convince his family that he made the right choice?

This is why Foggy's arc in S2 is so good...but so incomplete. Foggy comes to a point of recognizing that he's good at what he does, and that could have brought him to a point of recognizing that he doesn't need his parent's approval (or anyone's approval) as long as he's doing the right thing.

But instead, he turns right around to work for Hogarth, where he admits he doesn't care about his clients. It seems that his growth in S2 was, in fact, limited to him becoming confident in his skills as a lawyer, but didn't extend to giving him the confidence he apparently needs to justify a decision to make less money in exchange for helping people in need.

#foggy nelson #meta #daredevil #asks #ask me things i'm friendly

[muzzleroars]

I have a. recommendation

it's an old(ish) song, but Antichlorobenzene (Owata-P) is. it has some gabriel vibes kicking around I think

(There's a video w english subtitles on youtube made by kanannon, or alternatively you can use the vocaloid lyrics wiki)

ooooughhh yes absolutely i can see it, especially in terms of gabriel's ongoing (and possibly eternal) crisis of faith!!!

the complexities hinted at in gabriel's character are incredibly interesting and his multiple facets being presented from multiple sources make him a far-reaching presence that exists way beyond the scope of v1's perspective (appropriate for a character with a vast history we have no connection with). however, one of the more contradictory ideas we see is his treatment of those in hell - through the accounts in lust and greed, as well as the terminal entries for minos and sisyphus, we find a gabriel that cannot be reasoned with, that carries out the will of heaven with cold efficiency. however, in the accounts of limbo and wrath, as well as the terminal entry for the idols, we instead find a gabriel that appears to be the only one in heaven to care for the sinners in hell. because of this, two possibilities exist as to why this might be - perhaps gabriel harbors sympathy for the repentant, he doesn't believe in a fundamental disdain for sinners but instead believes they should be judged on how much they may regret their actions in life. however, this means he has no pity for the unrepentant and so has takes no issue in executing a king as fair as minos because his justice is divine, not human. alternatively, gabriel judges sinners on their own merits and, if their sins are not so grave or they truly have changed, he offers them comfort despite knowing such aid isn't meant to be extended to them. in this case, he brings an end to the lust renaissance due to his adherence to orders and against his conscience, as god's will must be done regardless of what he may feel.

no matter the case, one truth then remains inherent to gabriel's character - he doesn't fully accept the eternal punishment of the damned. whether it be based on repentance or smaller transgressions, gabriel does not believe hell is right in its execution...but as we now know, this exact thought process is what got lucifer exiled from heaven. and gabriel must have seen what happened to lucifer before him, so i think he quickly shut down his own conscience to function and remain favored. he became exceptionally hardworking, he grew as a fierce foe to god's enemies and a kind soul to all the citizens of heaven in part to cover up his heretical beliefs in a sense. he did everything he could to be perfect because this is god, this is the creator, he cannot possibly know better than the one that made him, made heaven, made the universe itself. he knows to even question it is a sin and he desperately wants to prove to god, himself, and everyone around them that he is not like lucifer, that his weakness in his faith will never sway his actions. and so he grows merciless when working and becomes a shining example to all angels...but quietly, when left to his own accord and without orders, he will protect those in hell and perhaps offer them a little respite.

this pattern of behavior continues well into the council's rule - sitting now in place of god, gabriel follows their orders to the letter as he has always done. but they are not god. they didn't create him nor this world, they are merely spirits made like himself, as secondhand from their author as he is. and i think this distance is crucial, this crack in their authority is a seed planted in the back of his mind even as he slaughters minos and sisyphus and forces the sinners back to their punishments. and when he fails against v1, that doubt finally germinates - god's light has failed, his absolute supremacy, wielded by gabriel to the best of his ability, has failed against a man-made machine. initially his mind defaults to self-blame as it always has, that the fault lies in himself, but that cannot hold throughout the second encounter. he fails again, and if he fails again, if he fails using his divinely-tempered swords and his righteous fury, then god's majesty has failed. his failure means it was all never absolute and the council can fail just as he has. suddenly "good" and "evil" are much more obscure, when he knows there were righteous sinners and now knows there are evil saints...and so gabriel is left only to follow his own conscience, the one that has always whispered to him, directed his private actions, but was smothered by his faith. he's well aware he doesn't have the answers, but he believes too now that no one does, that perhaps there aren't answers. or, alternatively, that the answer is the world is fucked up because a fallible creator made it, mistake after mistake piling on top of each other, and all he can do is try to finally be a true moral actor in what's left of it.

#minor p-2 spoilers under the read more! #SORRY i just kinda went on about gabriel's confused faith hhhh #but that's really what the song makes me think of!! #sincerely finding his lucifer connections QUITE interesting.... #cake answers #gabriel #also it may be that gabriel had no idea why lucifer was kicked out #but either way i think he at least knows he was questioning things

[everydaywulfang]

"Keep Moving Forward" is The Main Difference Between RWBY's Heroes and Villains

We all can probably tell that the spirit of determination is something of a theme in RWBY. However, something that I don't see brought up as often is how the show's taken that and basically built every character around it to at least some degree. Put simply, in RWBY heroes are those that push towards tomorrow and villains are those who are stuck in the past. (With a handful of very notable exceptions which I'll get into later.)

Heroes in RWBY are typically people that have something that they're either working towards or working away from, sometimes both. Regardless, they make a point of not being bogged down by what's happened to them in the past and moving on from it. Ruby has Summer, Yang has Raven, Blake has Adam and the White Fang, Weiss has her father and the SDC, and Nora and Ren have Kuroyuri. All of these characters' arcs involve them dealing with these important pillars of their pasts and moving past them. They use them to mold and change and better themselves. Jaune and Pyrrha are interesting to note here because they don't fit this pattern exactly but still fit the theming.

Pyrrha has worked her whole life towards becoming a huntress. She's much like Ruby in that regard. She enjoys what she does and while her discomfort with her celebrity status is an emotional hang-up for her it isn't really the focus of her arc. Instead, it's about how her future is torn away from her. First metaphorically by the responsibility of being a maiden, and then literally by an arrow to the chest. Jaune meanwhile looks like his story would be about his desire to live up to the standards set by his ancestors. And it is at the beginning. But it becomes apparent that the real meat of Jaune's character arc comes from working past Pyrrha's death and his response to that.

The villains on the other hand are basically all defined by their inability to move on from the past. Adam, Hazel, Salem, Mercury, Cinder, Watts, all of them are inflicting harm on others because of vendettas, grudges, and worldviews based in things that happened to them a long time ago. Salem refused to move on from Ozma's death and now is refusing to move on from his betrayal. Hazel's semblance is literally symbolic of his inability to process his grief. Watts is only with Salem to get back at Ironwood for disgracing him. Mercury believes that he is a killer and always will be and is too afraid to try and change that path. Cinder holds on to the belief that freedom is equivalent to power and has made her whole life in pursuit of that. And Adam is lashing out at anyone he can reach to try and make himself feel like his life matters and is something he is in control of.

This is also why villains like Emerald and Ilia are ultimately able to switch sides. Both of them have a future for themselves that they were envisioning. But it eventually became apparent to them that the people they were following were not going to fulfill that for them and especially not in the ways they wanted.

And now we come to the exceptions which is where things get really interesting.

First off is Tyrian who is, remarkably, seemingly free from any shackles of the past. He genuinely believes in the future of destruction Salem will bring and is just having fun on the ride there. All the other villains have some other agenda besides him. He's not hiding anything which makes him quick to catch on to just how delusional the other bad guys are. (Namely Cinder, Emerald and Mercury)

Secondly, Ozpin and Qrow. I'm lumping these two together as they're somewhat similar on this topic in particular. Both Oz and Qrow are by all rights good guys. They never plunge into villainy, but they also are very much shackled by the past in the same way most of the villains are. What separates them is that they do eventually come to understand these faults to at least some extent and start to work past them just like the main characters do. It just takes them a little longer.

And lastly the most noteworthy exception in my opinion: Ironwood, who descends into villainy but in my opinion never really latches on to the past in the way the other villains do. Ironwood takes the theme of determination to its logical extreme and becomes a person who will literally stop for no one. He pursues his view of the future to the expense of all other things until he's left broken. It is honestly a dark mirror to how Ruby operates but that is something I want to make its own post.

#rwby #rwby meta #rwby analysis #ruby rose #james ironwood #rwby salem

[dendylabyrinth]

Looking at Livia’s doppel now with the context of her backstory: it looks like a very grotesque bridal bouquet. The larger symbolism definitely revolves around her unique magic causing misfortune to anyone she shows kindness to, and the birthing imagery representing her being reborn ‘evil’ after her contract (and possibly the children her teacher could have had). But the shape and plant-like shapes make me think of a bouquet, with the frills and patterns making it seem wedding-like. There’s also the giant peach rose on the top fetus, and apparently those symbolize gratitude (basically a ‘thank you’ rose).

Now onto the context! Livia’s backstory concludes with her going to her teacher’s (a social worker who helped her after everything awful she went through) wedding after cutting contact with her out of fear that her magic might cause her harm. But tragedy strikes when her teacher is killed in a motor vehicle accident right when she sees Livia after the wedding. This, understandably, makes Livia give up on caring for people, since she might as well be killing them herself. So she decides to focus on helping Kyubey, since if he achieves his ‘entropy-universe-energy’ goal, there won’t be a need for anymore Magical Girls to suffer the same way she did. So she could end up contributing some good by helping indirectly.

So is there anything else that connects the idea of her doppel being a bouquet? There is, and it’s actually found in the gameplay! Livia’s doppel’s animation involves it spouting impurities that eventually taint Livia and the fetuses. But there are two interesting details I noticed in the attack animation:

The top fetus, the one with the rose, is the one that sprays impurities. It’s also noticeably the biggest. It might represent how the death of her teacher was a turning point for Livia’s life.

2. Notice how that same top fetus is the only thing in the entire doppel to remain pure by the end of its attack. Even Livia herself is drowning in impurities, not to mention the other smaller fetuses. It’s this impurities-fountain’s nozzle but it seems incorruptible.

Now how do these two details connect to the larger idea? Here’s my interpretation: the doppel represents Livia’s feelings of gratitude and love for her teacher (she said that she wanted to see the woman she owed so much at the happiest moment of her life) in the form of a bouquet. But it gets twisted and corrupted by her belief that she is evil (and her magic causing misfortune), so it ends up being a bouquet that spreads misfortune rather than good. The ironic part being that the main part responsible is the one representing Livia’s gratitude for the woman who made her believe she could be good instead of evil, but it’s also the only part that remains pure, because it represents the one time where Livia let herself forget her wish (which might be why she is so vehemently strict with reminding her students of the wishes they made), and by extension, forget that she is ‘evil’.

#magia record #livia medeiros