#asian boys on the wall

[jaynovz]

i love tumblr. every day on my dash i get to see gay sex gifs from other fandoms i do not personally attend and WOOBOY it’s enriching. I like to See, I like to Be Shown

#thoughts #just today I saw some men pinning each other to walls with knives and some men tongue kissing #and then there are countless queer asian dramas where those boys always be canoodling #and not to mention the WRESTLING gifs #thanks everyone keep up the good work

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

imperfectionist (vinny hong x jo!reader)

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 1

part 2

pairing: vinny hong x jo!fem!reader

warnings: fem!reader, gifted!reader, cursing, mentions of blood & violence, mentions/flashbacks to vinny's shitty childhood. jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), physical descriptions (resemblance to jay, jay's mother, heavily implied asian features) intelligent!reader, female rage, implications of academic pressure, middle child problems, second person's pov (you, you're, your), ANGSTY, lowkey self-indulgent, SPOILERS everywhere, includes momma bear vinny but then reader is also kind of a momma bear, reader is NOT yumi, but yumi still exists here. lmk if i forgot anyth

note: i can't stop tossing and turning while reading s4 lol. our vinny pls come back now im bawling my eyes rn

———

None of the recontres you had with Vinny Hong in the entirety of your life was normal.

The first time you encountered him was when you accidentally bumped into him in a vulnerable state while walking home under a light rain shower after a tiring day volunteering at the hospital your parents were working in. The light pouring rain hit your umbrella with soft thuds as you were finding your way through the alley you accidentally passed by after taking an alternative route, but getting a little lost in the process.

You shuddered when you heard a groan. You immediately looked around and kept your guard up in case it was a kidnapper. But no, it sounded like one of pain. Stopping your tracks and pulling over your feet, you looked around the alley. Your eyes expectantly scanned until your eyes found the source of the grumbling noise. There he was, slumped against the wall.

I knew it. you thought.

It was a man. How cliché. His head was bowed down so he couldn't see you. Let me guess, a high school boy was mobbed and injured somewhere and now is left to die in a dark alley to be found lifeless when the sun rises?

You scoffed. If only you had all the time in the world to be a delinquent, that will most likely be where you're meant for. These high school boys are wasting their lives when they unknowingly have the time to choose to be a better person. You discreetly envied how these kinds of people can still choose how they'll live their lives—regardless of presence of sense for separating actions between good and bad.

And so you walked past the alley.

Your steps slowed down as the man groaned again, this time followed by a rustle. A slight pang of guilt forming in the pit of your stomach. Damn it, this wasn't…

You reluctantly looked back to where the man sat. You've always sworn your life you wouldn't meddle in anything that wasn't your business. But for some reason, the guilt of having the ability to help but refusing to, drowned your fixed principle.

Just as you were having an inner banter with yourself, your feet made the decision for you instead and took you to him. You pushed the button on your umbrella to automatically close it, pointing the sharp end to the stranger. You weren't even sure if he's still alive because he suddenly quieted down after that last groan. Only the light from the nearest post gave you an unclear sight of the man and the fluff of his fiery red hair.

One of his hands fell limp on the floor while the other was covering his wound. It seemed like he's been in the same spot for minutes yet the distinct bright colour of fresh blood told you the injury happened not very a while ago. You weren't sure of how to approach him properly, so you lightly kicked his leg once, but he didn't respond. So you kicked him for the second time, this time, harder. Finally, he responded by quietly groaning in pain once again.

“Who… the hell… are you…?” He weakly questioned as looked up to squint and take in your face, but your figure was against the light from the lamp post, so your silhouette was the only thing he's capable of registering. Even when in pain, his voice still sounded atrocious. Like he's someone used to speaking to people harshly. Luckily, you weren't intimidated for a single bit. It'll take a lot more than harsh tones to drive you away. You've been there.

You fumbled inside your tote bag to search for your phone, “Who are you to ask?” When you got ahold of your phone, you turned the flashlight on and you got a clearer view of the blood oozing out of this stranger's side, staining his hand in the process. It looked like a stab wound, judging from the volume of the blood oozing out from the wound.

“As expected.” You raised your hand to point the sharp end of your umbrella to him once again. “I will help you. But if you attempt to do anything funny, I'll stab you on your other side, too.”

Your first option as was to call immediate professional help. As you tried to dial the hospital hotline to call an ambulance, your phone kept indicating there was no service. The signal's jammed. You almost threw your phone to the nearest wall out of frustration as you hit the side of it with your palm. You side-eyed the man behind you. Shit. Now what? This kind of stab wound is fatal, especially because he already lost plenty of blood beforehand. It wouldn't bleed that much if the penetration wasn't deep. It might have even hit a vital spot. Calling for help now will be difficult because of this deserted alley and the continuous pour of the rain didn't help either, plus, your phone has no service.

“..I don't need… your help...!” he glared at your silhouette and cursed himself as he shut his eyes tightly while attempting to sit upright, enduring the excruciating pain on his side.

“You're quite obnoxious for a dying man.” You looked around to search for more resources. This is a closed alley. If you leave him here for another minute to find help, he might completely lose his consciousness, he was already limp in the first place. You were left with no choice. Your hand hesitantly reached to fumble around your bag once again until you got an OS, gauze pads and sterilized medical stitching needles.

Your mother would be furious if ever she finds out you stitched a stranger's wounds. You can only imagine her yelling, “Patients are not your playthings and the Medical field is not your playground! Who are you to perform Medical procedures? You're not even a Doctor yet!” Yeah, for sure Dra. Jo wouldn't be so pleased to find out her daughter's attempt to fix someone up. You kneeled and looked at the stranger. You needed to gain his trust as professionally as possible.

“I won't ask your name since you're clearly hard to talk to. I'm [Y/N]. I'm no Guardian angel of yours. I do light voluntary work in hospitals and I have current trainings on how to attend to emergency patients. But I'm still a high school student so I'm not yet licensed. Anyway, going to a hospital will always be the safest option, but I have knowledge about stitching wounds, at least. I'm going to temporarily stitch you up really quick so you don't lose more blood, then we'll get you to a hospital once I find phone service.”

You surveyed his overall state, he looked very pale, although it's easy to tell that he's naturally pale, by losing a lot of blood, he's getting even paler each passing second. You were running out of time.

“Do you consent to this?” You asked him calmly through your glasses.

He breathed out heavily. You knew he was wary and reluctant. Which is understandable. But if it's not you, who else will do it? You heaved a sympathetic sigh. As you unemotionally tell him about the circumstances of his skepticality, that you well acknowledge.

“Hey, you might have a family member waiting for you at home. They would be devastated to just hear from the news that you were found dispatched and lifeless out here in the morning.” you looked around, left and right. “I won't force your consent out. I haven't touched you anywhere yet and I wouldn't if you don't want me to, so I can just leave you here, without me being a potential suspect of your murder. But you should probably think about the ones that didn't know their last sight of you alive was the last they'll get, ever.”

He looks at you for a few seconds while he grits his teeth, before he slowly, lightly nods. Shutting his eyes and removing his hand from covering the wound, implying that he had put his trust in you.

You checked his carotid pulse first. Just as you thought. Erratic and weakened. And then looked over to watch the shallow rise and fall of his shoulders. Shallow breathing... He definitely lost a high volume of blood already. You hastily started disinfecting everything—your hands, the tools, even the gloves. You checked his expression. You gave him a heads-up before lifting the side of his shirt to attend to the wound properly. You began working up and stitching the wound on his right side. You looked at his face once again that's being covered by the shade of the unfinished constructions caging the alley, while going through your first stitch.

“I'm sorry, this is the only option, for now. I'll find more professional help after this.”

He had no more energy left to open his mouth and reply. He grunts in pain while you were busy ushing the needle through-and-through. You asked him to bite down on a cloth while enduring the pain, since you didn't have anesthesia and he can feel every poke of the needle on his skin. You stitched him with precision with your skilled hands. Your hands were painted crimson red during the process.

This wasn't your first time stitching. You've done this a couple of times—but only to a simulator. You pulled yourself together as you kept in mind that a person's life is in your hands.

While you were focusing on the stitches, all the stranger can muster are croaky groans, as the pain of the wound and the stitches stung, so you tried to do it faster. When you were done, while wiping your blood-stained hands, you noticed how his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he was wincing in pain. He tried to look up at you again, but his sight of you was blurry.

“Don't worry, that'll be removed at once when you're taken to the hospital. What I did is only first aid, and you already lost a lot of blood so we still need to get you to the hospital as soon as possible.”

You pushed your knees to stand up and find phone signal, but before you can, his hand rose and reached for yours.

“No.” He clutched your hand to stop you. His hand was rough—and also large. You have large hands for a female, but his hand almost completely enveloped yours.

The side of your lips shifted downward while looking down at him. “You must really want to die.”

He gripped your hand tightly from the severe pain he's enduring. You know how much pain he's going through right now and he didn't mean to do so, so you let him squeeze your hand.

“I would rather die… than pay a hospital bill.” he weakly held on to you, falling completely unconscious. His head fell on your lap. You furrowed your brows and put his head into a more comfortable position.

Oh, so he was serious on dying?

You coming to his rescue definitely doesn't just end with a few stitches.

***

please bear with me, you guys. i wrote this way past my bedtime before a 7am class so it's yet still unedited lol ! always remember to put seeking professional help as top priority if you ever encounter this kinda scenario irl

#windbreaker #vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #vinnyxreader #jay jo x reader #windbreaker x reader #vinny x reader #yoobinhong #dom kang #shelly #manhwaimagines #manhwa #manga #imagines #wind breaker #minu #jay jo #vinny

[gyu-effect]

hi, congrats for 250 followers!!! i love all your works so far and couldn't wait to read more of your works. i also read your svt as love tropes and i AM DYING bc you wrote joshua as enemies-to-lovers (bc obviously joshua is my bias and the trope is my fav🥲). i guess this is very specific, but for the event, can i req joshua + enemies-to-lovers with the "who did this to you?"???? thanks!!

PAIRING || Joshua x Female Reader

GENRES || Fluff, Enemies To Lovers AU, A Bit Of Angst

WARNINGS || yn's dad being a typical asian parent (sigh), mention of getting hurt

WORD COUNT || 1.6k (i got carried away-)

A/N || Oh my god thank you so so much! i actually am not that great at writing e2l but i had great fun in writing that one so i'm so glad you liked it! thank you for requesting, i tried my best and i really hope you like it too!

TAGLIST || @romeosbreastmilkmilk @y00nzin0 @cecedrake2217 @candidupped [if you want to be added to my taglist send me an ask!]

[09:51]

“i heard your report card came two days ago.”

you stopped on your tracks, turning slowly to face your father who was sitting on the living room couch, reading the newspaper. you let out an awkward laughter but it did nothing to calm down your now racing heart. 

“ah, it must have slipped out of my mind.” you said, praying you wouldn’t get into more trouble. “you know how busy i’ve been with cram school and extra classes-”

“go get it now.” his cold voice cut you off as he placed the newspaper down, giving you a look that you were so familiar with. you swallowed hard, mind racing to find some excuse but you just couldn't; the fear was so engraved in you that it felt like your entire body had just stopped responding to you.

“isn’t it- isn’t it too late? how about i show it to you tomorrow-”

“now. i want to see it now. or did you have some reason to hide it?” he stood up and walked up to you, and you tried moving back as far as you could, but your back hit the wall very soon.

“no- why would i-”

“or,” his voice dropped an octave as he bent to your eye level, causing you to flinch, “did you come second again and that hong boy come first?”

your silence seemed to be enough for your father. 

he straightened up as he regarded you coldly. “you are so pathetic, don’t you have any shame? i spend millions behind you and you can’t even do the one thing you are supposed to! do you know how embarrassing it is to tell everyone that you, the always second rank holder, are my daughter?”

you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin as you balled your fist in anger. tears stung your eyes but no matter how much you clenched your teeth, your heart still seemed to ache from your father’s harsh words. 

“fine!” you finally snapped. “why don’t you just disown me and adopt joshua as your child then?”

as soon as you had finished your sentence, you heard a loud slap and your knees hit the ground. your cheek stung from the intensity of the slap but before you could even take everything in, you felt your father yank you up by your hair.

you screamed as you tried to pull yourself away but that just earned another slap from your father, this time feeling a sting on your lips. finally breaking free from him, you ran out of your house onto the street, blindly running until you finally reached the park.

the park wasn’t actually a park. it was an abandoned playground with a few trees here and there that hadn’t been touched by the development of your posh neighbourhood. yet. you had discovered this place in your sixth grade, and seeing that no one ever came by, it soon became your escape spot for whenever your parents scolded you too much.

you sat down on one of the creaky swings, finally feeling the tears fall down your cheeks.

your lips stung, your cheeks hurt, your head was throbbing but mostly it was your heart. it was clenching painfully at the thought of how meaningless you were to your parents, no matter how hard you tried. it hurt from the amount of hatred that had piled up against your parents and mostly hong joshua.

hong joshua. 

the stellar boy of the school. the secret crush of every single girl in your grade. the favourite boy of all the teachers that had taught you.

he was well mannered, sweet, handsome and smart. 

so no matter how much your parents pitted you against him, it shouldn't have bothered you since he obviously deserved it, right?

but it seemed like he knew your parents did that, and that’s why every time he would win first he would always smirk at your direction as though trying to rile you up. that sweet boy facade disappeared everytime the two of you were alone or competing with each other.

he made sure to point out all your mistakes every time, never take your suggestions despite being in the same student body for so many years together and argue back for almost everything you said.

in other words, the two of you were sworn enemies and you hated him with your every living breath.

sometimes, you wished he would just disappear so that your life could become easier. everything was so easy for him, while you had to struggle and work hard for everything. even if it was just making your parents proud like his.

you sighed for the umpteenth time, once again blaming joshua for everything.

“well, well, who do we have here?”

you whipped in shock towards the direction of the oh so familiar voice, praying it wasn’t who you thought it was.

but like always, your prayers were never answered.

your eyes met hong joshua's teasing gleaming ones, and it took every bit of your willpower not to retort back.

"cat got your tongue, darling?"

you hated that nickname but this time, you just smiled at him, wincing a little at the sting on your lip.

immediately his smirk fell, eyes finally taking in your messy hair and the wound on your lips.

"who did this to you?" 

if you had been in your right mind you would have heard the coldness and anger in his voice, but you weren't so instead you turned away from him, hoping he would just go away.

you heard his footsteps from behind you and within seconds you found the boy you hated the most in this world crouching in front of you. your eyes were now at level with his, and he looked concerned.

"y/n." he asked once again, gritting his teeth. "who did this to you?"

"can you just go away?" you whispered, closing your eyes as you leaned your head against the metal threads of the swing. "i don't need you to find another thing to pick on me.”

“pick on-” joshua shook his head. “wait here, i’ll be back in a minute.” saying that, he got up and ran from there. you muttered a ‘whatever’ but within a minute you heard his footsteps, along with his heavy breathing.

opening your eyes, you once again found joshua kneeling in front of you, this time dabbing a cotton bud onto an antiseptic cream. he raised his hand to apply it on your lip but you just turned your head away from him.

“hey,” he said so softly that you nearly turned back to look at him in shock. “i’m not going to hurt you, okay? but we need to take care of that so that it doesn’t leave a scar on those pretty lips of yours, okay?” he continued, still speaking softly to you as though he was afraid you would break if he spoke to you otherwise. the hong joshua you knew had the could speak this softly to you?

when you still didn’t turn to him, he sighed. then, you felt warmth prickle your hands as he took them in his, causing you to finally look at him.

“what are you doing-” you began but he cut you off.

“i’m sorry if you thought i was picking on you.” he said, his eyes filled with so much sincerity that your heart nearly skipped a beat. “i didn’t mean to hurt you, i swear. i just- i just thought you wouldn’t mind if i teased you a bit. it was just that…it was so fun bickering with you and you look so cute everytime you are riled up. i didn’t mean it in a bad way, i swear. if i had known how your parents were…”

his voice trailed off as you mulled his words in your head. was it really true that he had never meant it in a bad way?

the more you thought about it, the more you realised that he might be right. after all, he had never insulted you in front of others, not even if he had beaten you in yet another exam. he had just bickered with you and that was about it.

you wanted to ask why didn’t he try being more nicer to you then but instead you asked-

“you think i’m cute?”

even joshua seemed taken aback by your choice of question but after a second he broke into a laugh. his eyes pulled into the half moons you were so familiar with as he displayed his bunny teeth as he laughed. you always knew he was handsome but right now he looked cute, beautiful and handsome.

“is that what is bothering you?”

“i- no. i mean, yes.” you stuttered, all of a sudden unable to meet your ‘enemy’s’ eyes. 

“yeah, i think you are cute. really cute and pretty. especially when you are riled up. or flustered like now.”

“i’m not flustered!”

he laughed once more and this time you couldn’t stop the sudden stuttering of your heart. was just joshua’s laugh enough to make you forget your hatred for him and like him?

no way.

“i’m still mad at you.” you muttered, as he gently patted down your hair. he looked at you apologetically. 

“i’m sorry. i really am. i didn’t know i was hurting you. is there any way i can make it up to you?”

“well..” what could he even do to make it up to you? it wasn’t exactly his fault that he didn’t realise he was hurting you. should you just ask him to be your friend? hating one less person seemed to be a great idea to you.

“if you aren’t sure could i suggest something?”

“er, okay?” the cocky smile on his face made you suspicious of what he was going to say but decided to give it a try.

“do you want to go out with me on a date tomorrow?”

© 𝐆𝐘𝐔-𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

#╼ 𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒 #╼ [𝟎𝟗:𝟓𝟏] #joshua x reader #hong joshua x reader #joshua fluff #joshua angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #joshua x you #joshua x y/n #hong joshua x you #hong joshua x y/n #seventeen angst #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt angst #joshua fanfic #╼ 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒

[gender0bender]

I have finally scanned and uploaded all of the 2010 Spring issue of Original Plumbing to internet archive for people to read for free. This issues focuses on health and safe sex in a transmasculine context, and features interviews, articles, and artist spotlights. You can buy this issue as well as others by the magazine on their bigcartel page here, and I really encourage you to support them! 

Image descriptions:

1. A cover of a magazine depicting a shirtless white trans man with short dark hair and facial hair smiling at the camera. He is standing against a brick wall. In the top left corner is the logo of the magazine reading OP trans male quarterly , with more text in the bottom right reading “the health and safer sex issue N0.03 / spring / 2010 /US $8″

2. A cropped piece of interview text reading: What is the hottest safer sex encounter you've had lately? Well, a funny Eros story. I was fucking this hot transguy with my gloved hand. At some point I needed more gloves and we had run out of them in the bin on the bunk we were playing on. At this point we had quite an audience so I leaned over and asked some guy to go get me more gloves. He did and I went right back to fucking that boy senseless. You just needed a helping hand! True, and I figured they were getting a show so they could at least help out. Wow, did any of them comment on the hot action they were witnessing? Or did they just watch and enjoy?

3. A cropped piece of interview text reading: You also are a go-go dancer with TransLicious Entertainment. What's the craziest thing you've had happen to you in a go-go setting? I just started go-go dancing, so unfortunately I don't have any crazy stories. But I do have something to share with OP, because it happened after I finished dancing at the OP issue #2 release party, which was amazing by the way. It was about 7am, I was finally laying down to go to bed, still buzzing with the excitement of the night. Suddenly I thought, "I'm a transsexual and I'm beautiful!" and I realized I had never said that out loud before, so I did... and I started balling my eyes out. The journey of self-love has been such a long and sometimes painful process. But, I have to say, ever since that night, I feel unstoppable.

4. A photograph of a shirtless East Asian trans man with short hair crossing his hands over his chest and looking into the camera with a squint. He is wearing a white baseball cap, a necklace, and a wristwatch.

5. A photograph of white trans man in a speedo with brown short hait, snake bit piercings and glasses smiling at the camera as he pulls on a white latex glove.

6. A cropped part of a poster decpiting two trans men looking into the camera. The one on the left is a black man with  a bit of facial hair and long black locs. The one on the right is a brown man, with short black hair. The text above them reads “paps matter for trans men.” ED. 

#transgender #transmale #transmasc #transmasculine #ftm #ftm history #transmasc history #original plumbing #trans history #transgender history #nsft #trans art #trans writing #trans publications #2010s #my uploads #uhhh idk? #transfag #lol #lgbt #lgbt magazines #lgbt history #queer magazine #queer history #safe sex #sex education #trans sex education #queer art

[petrichor-idyllic]

@lu-thinkingstuff I accidentally deleted the original ask (and the entire fuckin fic I'd nearly finished along with it) so have a screenshot of your ask I managed to keep. Sorry.

I'm writing this as a standalone piece, but it can be read as a prequel to quite a few of my pieces if you please.

INDOCTRINATION

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. I know the request is fem!reader, but I guess this can be read as gender neutral since I don't think I used any pronous to refer to you, apart from you obviously lmao. Follows no cannon events. I am making this shit up. Can be read as a prequel to "Life before Drowning", any other of my fitting work, or as a standalone. Whatever ya want. References to the simulation sky that's in the books - if you're reading this as a movie fic, then let's pretend this is a failed WICKED experiment.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, annoying WICKED shenanigans, traumatised children, Ratman.

You met Minho when you were seven. Maybe eight.

The last few weeks had been a blur of chaos you can barely remember. With the Flare finally taking its victims in your hometown, families flocked to their last resort, donating their children to WICKED.

Most children weren't picked.

Of course, they weren't. Most children aren't immune. The occasional normal child was also plucked from the masses and swept away from the warmth of their families to the cold, white walls of WICKED's laboratories. But that was rare, and they were only ever valued as a control variable in whatever twisted experiments they took part in.

Not that you ever knew that.

The potential horrors didn't matter to most parents; yours included. Mothers and Fathers desperately passing their remaining blood to men in masks in hopes of saving their loved ones. There really wasn't much choice.

You were given even less choice as you were one of the lucky ones to be picked.

A white room became your home for several weeks. They made you forget your parents - those parents who willingly passed you into Ava Paige's custody in hopes you'd have at least a fleeting chance of survival on the infected planet.

They took your name, too. Your personality. The few memories you'd managed to develop so young. All of it; gone.

You were almost in a state of shock when they finally said you could leave your pristine tiled prison cell.

Following your capture through the endless high-tech halls and flawless clean corridors, you reach a large dining hall. Several long tables fill the room, along with the high-pitched chattering voices of children. The kids vary in age - some older, some younger, but that doesn't matter. They're all talking.

"Grab your food and find a seat." The booming, hollow voice of the balding man in a labcoat reaches your ears, and you can't even begin to process what he's saying.

"W-what?" Your voice is barely a whisper as you squeak out a response.

"Join the queue, and then find somewhere to sit. Your lunch break doesn't last long." He gives you no chance to ask anything else as he turns and walks back down the corridor. Leaving you with very little choice but to continue into the room.

Getting the food is the easy bit; a tray full of a passing excuse for food and a small cup of juice. Finding somewhere to sit is the problem. You mindlessly search for an empty seat, though your gaze mainly lingers on the masked individuals lining the room; armed and dangerous.

"Psst. Don't stare. They don't like it when you stare."

Your head snaps towards a voice. An Asian boy, about your age, leans over the table top, hand cupped around his mouth as he whisper-yells at you, like he's pretending to be subtle.

"...What?" You stare back at him as a grin creeps across his face as he sits back down.

"Those freaks? Duh? Don't stare at 'em. They'll snap at you." When you don't respond, the boy starts to sense your unease. "...You gonna sit down or what?" He vaguely gestures to the empty space on the bench across from him. It takes you a second to move, but he seems relieved when you do. "You got a name?"

"Uh, (Y/N)... I think."

"You think?" He scoffs as you struggle to get your leg over the slightly wobbly bench. You think it's wobbly, or maybe you're shaking too much; it's hard to tell.

"Well, yeah - that's not my real name, is it?" Your response leaves the boy unsure how to react. You're... not wrong.

"Huh. I guess. I'm Minho." He says with a grin. "And even if it ain't my real name, they made a good choice. It suits me, right?"

For the first time since you'd arrived, you find yourself smiling. Minho is charming, for a kid. He's already got an air of confidence about him, which is almost reassuring in this situation.

"Yeah," you giggle, "I guess it does suit you."

And that is how you met Minho. Reckless, cocky, funny, brilliant Minho. And by brilliant, I mean he is a brilliantly bad influence.

It's not like you got to see him very often - just over lunch and the rare breaks you both got at the same time. But when you did, it was always fun. You even developed a little group, mainly including Minho's friends - he has enough charisma for both of you.

The first time Minho snuck into your room, you were eleven.

It's the middle of the night, the faint sounds of footsteps from WICKED guards echoing through the small white room you reside in at nights. It's all background noise, now, you barely even notice it as you drift off to sleep.

Until the loud clattering of the vent hitting the floor makes you jump out of your skin, shooting up in bed.

"...shit." Minho murmurs as he peers into your room.

"Minho?" You whisper-yell at the sudden intrusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I couldn't sleep." He responds, matching your tone as he attempts to clamber out of the vent and onto the safety on the floor below.

"So, you decided to break into my room?" You climb out of bed, coming to assist your best friend as he slides down your wall.

"Yeah. Figured I'd give you a visit."

You cross your arms, eyebrow cocked as you glare at your friend. "Are you insane? We're gonna get in so much trouble if you get caught." You grumble at him, swallowing your initial shock (and your small smile thanks to his presence.)

"So? What are they gonna do?" Minho dusts himself off. "Make me train more? Poke me with another needle? However shall I cope?" His sarcasm results in another eye roll from you, but you can't help but chuckle as you shove him, playfully - but warning.

"They could lock you in your room for a week." A beat passes. "Again."

"Great." He grins. "Means I get some peace. Sleep away my problems."

"You're such a dick."

"You love me, really." He flashes you another signature cocky grin.

You don't even dignify that with a response. "What exactly are we doing then? Just... hanging out in my room?"

Minho hesitates, then looks back at the vent, then you again as a sly smile slowly creeps across his face. "I think I have a better idea."

And that is how you end up crawling through a vent in the middle of the night, and following your chaotic friend through the facility. Minho is a lot calmer than you are; cracking jokes, whistling and generally being a cocky little shit. You, however, are hissing at him every thirty seconds to shut the fuck up.

Somehow, you both stumble into a vacant hall. Well, Minho dragged you through another vent and whilst he gracefully jumped down, you fell in a heap on the floor.

"Christ-" you grumble as you dust yourself off, looking around the room. It's dark, unusually so - the only light creeping in from under the locked door to the room from the buzzing halogen bulbs. "Where are we?"

Despite your low tone, Minho doesn't do much to hide his voice. "Dunno. Damn - this place is huge!" The boy chuckles to himself, dragging his hand across the wall to navigate, the sound of his words, and comfort, creeping away from your reach.

"Minho-" you say into the void, further panic swelling in your gut.

"Yo, I think I found a light switch."

Before you can object that this is a bad idea, there's a hollow click, quickly follow by a binding light.

You weren't expecting it; expecting the same dull bulbs that consume the WICKED labs. But what you get is anything but.

The entire ceiling springs to life, imitating the bright blue of the sky you haven't seen since you found yourself in WICKED's custody.

"Holy shit-" Minho gawks upwards as he stares, too, finally in your line of sight.

The fake sky is scarily realistic - the glow of the sun, the faint fluffy clouds floating across the screen. You're not even sure you could call it a screen, honestly. There's not lines, or glitches or lagging from the technology. It looks so real. Like you could reach out and feel the damp clouds through your fingers, the heat of the sun on your skin.

You look at Minho, who looks at you at the same time. Both of you have no words; how could you? But your silence and exchanges looks say everything words could - what the actual fuck is this?

"...this is.." Minho starts, losing himself quickly.

"..beautiful." You finish for him.

"I was gonna say freaky." He responds, earning a chuckle from you as you wander into the middle of the room. "Hey, there's other buttons-" He says, gesturing to the control panel on the wall that he originally assumed was a light switch.

With the click of his fingers, dark clouds start to fill the fake-sky, creating a dimmer, more stormy atmosphere. But there's no rain. Just clouds.

Those seem to be the only two weather modes as Minho keeps switching between the two. Cloudy and sunny. It's definitely not quite advanced enough to imitate the real thing.

"Look- there's a time monitor." Minho mumbles as he moves a slider. The sky dims, as bright sunset colours fill the ceiling before it creeps into dusk, and then into a series of bright stars.

Minho's goofy grin says enough as he moves away from the controls, joining you in the middle of the room. You barely even notice him until he's crouching the lie on the floor.

"What are you doing?" You raise an eyebrow at him as he moves to lay on his back, looking up.

"Star-gazing, duh. What does it look like?" He says as he smiles at you, before gesturing for you to join him.

"We're gonna get caught-"

"Will you relax?" He chuckles, leaning up on his arms. "When are we ever gonna get a chance to do this for real? Might aswell enjoy it whilst we have the chance."

"It's fake." You cross your arms defiantly.

"Still pretty. Still better than our boring white rooms." He retorts. "C'mon."

You sighs, but relent as you move to lay next to him.

He's right. It really is pretty. The mimic stars sparkle and flutter, and suddenly the labs and the experiments feel worlds away, even if your escape is an extention of your captives skills.

Minho suddenly starts chuckling.

"What? What's so funny?" You say, turning your head to look at him.

"Nothing." He shrugs. "Just thinkin' that if Thomas was here, he'd probably be telling us about all those star thingies."

"...star thingies?"

"Yeah. You know? Those... stars that are, like, in a pattern."

"...constellations?" You can't help the amused smile creeping across your face at your friends ignorance.

"Yeah- those. They got names don't they?" Minho turns to look at you. "Thomas is such a dork. He'd know all of them."

You shake your head as you look back up at the ceiling, but Minho keeps looking at you.

"We should tell the others." You say, not noticing his gaze.

"What?"

"About this room. Newt and Sonya would love this."

"I thought you didn't want to get caught?" He chuckles and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah- but this is cool. They should see it."

A beat passes as Minho continues to look at you. "Nah."

"Nah?" You look at him, surprised by this. He's rebellious and fiery and is normally the first to drag everyone into schemes and fun despite the risks.

"Nah... this is... ours." He says, smiling softly at you, before he shifts slightly to slips his fingers between yours, looking back up. "Just ours."

And that's what it became.

At least once a week, you and Minho would sneak around and into this secret special room. You'd spend hours talking and messing around, and somehow, you didn't get caught. Or maybe some of the kinder WICKED people were turning a blind eye to two kids enjoying themselves.

Who knows.

It was like this for about a year. Maybe a year and a half.

But, things took a turn.

Minho was starting to revieve praise for his athleticism. He became one of the most physically capable subjects, and it was impossible to get him away from a rigged-up treadmill. So, by the end of the day, he was exhausted. Too tired to be crawling around vents with you.

You were thirteen, maybe fourteen when Minho ended up crawling though your vents again.

Hearing the familiar noise, you're out of your bed before he's even here, your bare feet already on the cold floor as he appears.

"Minho-?"

"I know. I know." He grumbles. "I'm sorry." He says, before you can even get so much as a word in, and it leaves you stunned.

"For what?"

"For like... not being here. For neglecting you, I guess." He shrugs as he runs a hand through his hair.

"Neglect-?" You cut yourself off. "Dude, they've been working you to the bone. You don't have to apologise."

He sighs, seemingly of relief. "Yeah, well, I still feel like a dick. You're my best friend."

"Well, you're here now." You attempt to reassure him. "We can go back to the sky room."

He shakes his head. "Nah. I was thinking we could go exploring." He flashes that damn grin at you again.

"...exploring?" You raise a brow, crossing your arms.

"Yeah. Yanno- like me, Newt and Thomas used to do."

"I never joined in with that."

"Well- you should've. And we were exploring when we found the sky room, so you're no so innocent." He chuckles, and you can't help but admit he's right. Yet, he continues at your hesitation. "Look, we found that room by chance. Surely there's more cool and interesting things to find. I'm getting bored of looking at the same fake sky everyday."

Something in that comment stings. You'd never gotten bored of that pretend sky. Maybe because you'd always been with him - and you could never get bored of him.

"C'mon." He drags out the syllable. "One night of exploration. Just one. Who knows how far they'll be making me run from now on. Better take the chance whilst you have it."

You playfully shove him at this. "...fine. One time only. Okay?"

"Okay." He smiles. "Let's go."

So, once again, you find yourself creeping around the sleeping facility with your far too confident best friend.

Though, when Minho reaches a locked door, you would've never expected him to slip an excess card out of his shoe, swiping it into the card reader.

"What? Where did you get that?" You hiss, wide-eyed and stunned.

"Some dumb lab-coat dude left it on the side. So, I picked it up. Finders, keepers." He says as he pushes the door open.

Sneaky around is one thing, finding hidden rooms through vents - but stealing an ID card is something else. You're literally never going to see each other again if you get caught. Not that you get chance to voice your concerns as Minho walks into the room.

This sinking feeling creeps into your gut, yet, you can't find it in yourself to tell Minho. What if he really is starting to find you boring? Being whiney to him about this would only confirm that. You don't need him getting closer with someone else, especially not the flocks of girls in the dining hall who have started taking interest in the boy since he started his physical training.

Okay. Maybe this is creeping beyond friendship. It was years ago, but you're always thinking about the way he held your hand the first time you found that room. How it was just yours. Your special place, just for the two of you. And he doesn't want to go there anymore?

You've never felt so insecure.

So, you keep quiet.

The first room is full of labelled chemicals you don't understand.

The second is full of strange, clouded tubes, with slimy, creatures with metal arms. Even Minho was eager to leave that one - to remain ignorant for his own bliss, pulling you along once you stop to stare into the tubes. You suspect Thomas mentioned something to him. Thomas has always been Ava's favourite.

Though, the third is far less scary. It's a office - well, more like a small library with a computer and a desk. Filing cabinets liter the walls with endless documents.

Minho lets out a low whistle. "A computer." He grins, casually sliding into the office chair as he starts fiddling with the computer. Having most of the common sense in this friendship, you've assumed that the computer is password locked.

Which is confirmed by Minho's hushed cursing.

So, you start looking through the documents in the drawers. A lot of them are medical files and general testing that you don't really understand.

Though, a few documents contain blueprints and titles such as "the Maze Trails" and "The Scorch Trails". They're detailed and confusing.

"Minho-" you gets his attention, passing him the notes as he's distracted from the computer, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he looks through them.

He doesn't get much time to comment as you find another interesting drawer; labelled "Subjects."

Flicking through a few, you recognise the pictures of the people you've spent the last few years with. Teresa. Thomas. Gally.

You stumble upon Minho's- grinning at his awful mugshot style photo. A7. The Leader. They've already got him marked down pretty faithfully.

Though, something consistent through all the documents is the phrase "status: Immune." Something about that stands out to you, for some reason.

That is until you reach Newt's file.

Staus: Nonimmune. Control Variable.

Nonimmune?

Nonimmune.

"Uh, Minho-?"

"These maps are insane." He mumbles, still examining the blueprints. "Do you reckon these are those big plans Thomas is always yapping about?" He picks his head up to look at you, noticing your face drop, concern written throughout your features. "What? What is it?"

"...we're all immune to the Flare, right? That's why they're testing us. To find a cure?" You don't even look up at him.

"Yeah..? Why else would we be here?" His grin is there, same as always, but now it's uneasy and uncertain. You look at him, before walking over and slapping Newt's file onto the table.

It takes him a moment to catch on, but when he does, his face drops, and he just looks at you.

Before any words are exchanged, footsteps can be heard from down a corridor.

"Shit-" you both scramble, collecting all the papers and stuffing them in whatever drawer they came from (or whichever is closest.)

It's a mad dash to get out of the room - adrenaline and fear coursing through you both. You didn't even find your own file.

Are you immune? Could the Flare get you?

Little do you know, Minho is internally freaking out over the same thing.

In your panic, your silence evades you, which alerts whatever guard was prowling the building.

"Quick! Up here!" Minho commands as he struggles to open a vent, giving you a leg up before yanking himself up the wall and diving in.

You don't even know where you're crawling to, you're just trying to rush away. But, eventually, it goes quiet, only the sounds of yours and Minho's panting in the small vent system.

"We have to tell Newt." You say, managing to turn in the small space to face him. Minho hesitates for a moment, but nods.

Of course you have to tell him.

"Yeah, at lunch, tomorrow. We'll tell him. But right now, we have to get back to our rooms. They'll be checking." You nod in agreement. "Let's get you back first."

Minho has a far better memory than you, leading you back to the safety of the room before he turns to navigate the way back to his.

"Minho-" you say, turning to look at him once your feet hut the floor, a sense of dread overwhelming you.

"..yeah?"

You can only look at him. There's so much you want to say, but none of it want to come out. Some deep gut feeling screams at you that this is the end, but you tell yourself you're being silly.

His blank expression pushes you to talk, though.

"Just.. be careful."

He offers a warm smile, but rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. See you at lunch tomorrow."

Your attempt to mimic his expression falls flat as he shimmies back into the vent and on his way.

You didn't know how accurate your instincts would be.

The next day, you make your way to the lunch hall. You're late- your lab testing ended up being longer than possible. But when you enter the dining hall, Minho's absence is quickly noted.

Though, you do spot Newt. Maybe Minho's running has gone overtime, again?

"Newt-" you shout him, jogging across the hall. "Have you seen Minho? We need to talk to you."

Newt doesn't even have to say anything as he glances at Thomas, whose eyes are burning into the table in front of him. There's some sense of desperation in Newt's expression, mixed with grief and regret, but like he can't say anything.

It makes your stomach flip and your heart stop as you open your mouth to speak, but you don't get any sound out.

"(Y/N)." Janson's annoying voice sends a chill down your spine as you turn to look at him. Two guards stand by his sides, his forced grimace doesn't reach his cold, unforgiving gaze. "I need a word."

Janson gestures for you to walk with him and you swallow a lump in your throat. Your first instinct is to run. Like Minho thought you. But in a room full of people? It's not like your quiet escapades in the middle of the night.

Your feet are like concrete as you force yourself to walk towards him.

Janson walks in front of you, the guards behind you. You're trapped, and even if you did run, that wouldn't change anything as he leads you into a room. It's a room you're familiar with.

It's where you have one-on-one progress conversations with Janson to discuss how you're doing. Minho spent more time in here than you ever did, but that doesn't mean the confines space doesn't fill you with anxiety, even in normal circumstances.

You take your place in the cold chair as Janson sits across from you, the slab of metal that is meant to be a table keeping you separated feels like a godsend. Though, not much of one with the guards breathing down your neck.

"...Where's Minho?" You manage to croak, attempting to mimic your missing friends confidence.

"He's been dealt with." Janson says, and your blood runs cold.

"What- what does that mean?"

"I'm sure you already know what that means. From your adventures last night." The world stops.

You knew.

You knew it was a bad idea and your own insecurities led you to keeping your mouth shut and hiding away from your concerns. What? Because of a stupid crush? Your own feelings of inadequacy have led to Minho's demise. And it's soul-crushing.

"I-I don't understand." You words falter, any false confidence quickly shattering.

"It's a shame. Really. It is." Janson nods as he leans forward, his elbows on the table. "We let yours and Subject A7's strange relationship slide because it was showing promising results. New waves in the Killzone we were examining. I knew we should've stopped it." He sighs. "...and now, you know too much."

"Where is he?" You spit, fists clenched, unused adrenaline causing you to tremble.

"I told you." Janson hisses. "You already know. But don't worry. You're not going to remember any of this." Janson nods towards the guards.

"What-" your words catch at a sharp sting in the side of your neck as one of the masked-men injects a burning liquid into you. You gasp, grasping the side of your neck. "What have you done?"

Your words slur slightly as a dull buzz fizzles into your vision, your head feeling light.

"My job." Janson leans back as he watches you sway in your seat. "What was always going to happen."

You can't even respond as your limp body slips out of the seat, and your consciousness leaves you before you even hit the floor.

WHOOP WHOOP. 1K BABYYYYY.

I guess this is my 1k follower post - and it's angst. That's typical of me. Sorry for the massive gap since I last posted something, but everyone's support has given me a drive to write. Well, at least finish writing this. Sorry if its not everything you wanted, but I've always felt there's something so much sadder about not getting that chance to say goodbye to someone, and things fizzing out instead of a bang.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed :)

#🌿 petri tmr #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #the maze runner #minho x reader #tmr fanfiction #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader

[blueblurseptember]

damn. can't stop thinking about binghe being shen yuan's comfort character in his previous life now. idk, but i am simply convinced that shen yuan has had the childhood of a typical asian middle child, made worse by the fact that he's from a rich family. all his little quirks and oddities would actually make a whole god awful lot of sense too if that were the case. like it would just makes sense.

ofc nobody else would be as good in watering down their feelings, devaluing their positive qualities, and underestimating their ability to make any real impact (on anyone they of value) than a second child who grew up often compared to the first and had been, intentionally or unintentionally, made to feel like they never have or never will measure up or measure enough.

i think it's also why of all the moments, he only genuinely started to understand binghe's true feelings when binghe began going off about feeling unwanted and never being enough to make anyone stay. all those feelings, those exact insecurities too, despite himself, he understood well enough bc he'd lived with them his entire life. even built half of his personality and put up most of the mental and emotional walls he have up to cope with them.

for so long, he'd seen binghe, post-abyss, as someone so unlike him. as far as he's concerned he's just some average guy who needs to learn how to settle with whatever life gives him bc he'll never be good enough to really, really achieve things. binghe, on the other hand, is an OP protagonist destined for greatness, to have everything and everyone he can ever want, to be chosen by anything or anyone he chooses.

they can't be any more different!!! except as it turns out, casting roles aside, binghe doesn't feel any differently about himself as shen yuan feels about his own self. and worse of all, and he's realized this too, that he's the last straw that got binghe feeling so strongly that way about himself.

anywaY, yes. binghe as shen yuan's comfort character—hoo boy, yes. he would soooo love a character like the original flavor binghe, alright. middle child who's constantly made to feel like he'll never be enough would totally love the living hell out of a white lotus who's constantly treated like a lesser being by the people around him only to emerge as a blackened OP protagonist who finally has achieved power not just over his life but the whole fucking world!!!

even before binghe turned real, he's helped shen yuan embrace, even just a little, his own feelings. they really are soul mates, idk, god.

#svsss #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #bingyuan #bingqiu #brain dump #sorry this got long #and is probably incoherent as hell but i am high on caffeine and in the middle of a brainrot

[eretzyisrael]

By Susan Edelman

According to interviews with multiple staffers, and a Jewish student’s safety transfer request, recent hate incidents include:

A student painted a mustache on his face to look like Hitler, and banged on classroom doors. When someone opened, he clicked his heels and raised his arm in the Nazi gesture, security footage shows.

Three swastikas in one week were drawn on teachers’ walls and other objects, a manager found.

A 10th-grader told Kaminsky, 33, who is Jewish, “I wish you were killed.”

Another student called her “a dirty Jew” and said he wished Hitler could have “hit more Jews,” including her.

Students pasted drawings of the Palestinian flag and notes saying “Free Palestine” on Kaminsky’s classroom door. One scribbled note that said simply, “Die.”

The teen tormentors have so far faced no serious discipline under interim acting principal Dara Kammerman, who has done little beyond contacting parents in an effort to practice “restorative justice,” staffers said.

“She is perpetuating an antisemitic environment and a school of hate,” said Michael Beaudry, campus manager of the Sheepshead Bay building that houses Origins and three other schools. “The students continue these behaviors because they know there won’t be any consequences.”

In response, the city Department of Education said it will launch a probe: “There is currently no evidence that these claims are true, but we are investigating the claims.” 

14This student allegedly sported a Hitler mustache and went door-to-door giving a Nazi salute.

14Teachers allege that interim principal Dara Kammerman perpetuates antisemitism by not disciplining students. 

In a disturbing instance in late January, a group of boys came into Kaminsky’s classroom at the end of the day, and cornered her, laughing, she said. 

“Miss Kaminsky, do you love Hitler?” one asked. 

“I was so taken aback,” she said. “I did not respond, and they all gave the heil Hitler sign.”

Frightened, Kaminsky quickly left her classroom. 

One boy waved to his friends to chase her inside the building, a scene captured on security footage, Beaudry said. 

Origins HS student who allegedly painted a Hitler mustache on his face and went door to door giving the Nazi salute . Courtesy of Sidney Southerland

Kaminsky immediately reported the harassment to the acting principal — who refused to suspend the boys because she found they did nothing wrong, records show.

“We can’t do anything because the students claimed they were trying to have an ‘academic conversation,’” staffers quoted her as explaining.

Antisemitism at Origins HS has festered for several years, Kaminsky and Beaudry said.

-

About 40% of Origins students are Muslim. DOE stats list 22% as Asian, 22% Black, 17% Hispanic and 32% white.

#origins high school #sheepshead bay #new york #antisemitism #dara kammerman #danielle kaminsky

[nwjws]

in my head - yjw (teaser)

read here!

; pairing - jungwon x fem!reader

; synopsis - you’ve hated jungwon ever since you two met on the train to hogwarts back in first year; he’s self-centered, lazy, and always coming out for you. now in your seventh year, you’ve been named head girl (woohoo!). unfortunately, the head boy position was given to the one and only yang jungwon (boohoo…). with no other choice, you’re forced to face the annoyingly attractive boy and work with him for the rest of the year - if you can even last that long.

; wc (teaser) - 416 (full story estimated to be 10k)

; release - september 10th.

; tags - ravenclaw! headboy!jungwon, slytherin! headgirl!reader, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, hogwarts au (with a modern twist), bc they have tablets and stuff

; warnings - yn trips, flashes people, wants to slap jungwon, just a lot of hostility between them in general..

everyone’s eyes are on you as you stand up at the front of the great hall while the headmaster - professor bang si hyuk - introduces you as this year’s head girl. looking at all the students staring back up at you, you almost feel proud of yourself (keyword: almost). 

you’d think someone would be overjoyed at being acknowledged and recognised enough to have been given such a high position, but you aren’t. 

instead, you’re silently fuming, just barely keeping your temper in check as you plaster a fake smile on your face. your eye twitches as you hear a low chuckle from-

“the head boy, yang jungwon!” the headmaster announces. cheers erupt from around the room, all clapping for their new heads. 

“i can feel the waves of anger practically radiating off of you,” he murmured quietly.

yang jungwon. 

the boy you despised so much. 

listen, you don’t really hate anyone, but you’re pretty sure that what you feel towards the boy you called ‘yang’ is close enough.

in all your six years at hogwarts, you two have constantly been at each other’s throats. arguments often broke out between you in corridors; fights wherein one would end up stupefied or thrown against the wall; even little sabotages against each other that were subtle enough that teachers could pass off as an accident or your own fault rather than the other’s. 

for example, back in third year, yang had tripped you on your way into the great hall after everyone got off the hogwarts express. you had flashed everyone behind you and scraped your knee when you landed on the ground.

although no one saw him do it, you immediately knew who the culprit was, especially when he smirked down at you over his shoulder as he walked ahead. oh how badly you wanted to slap that smile off his face in the moment.

you retaliated the next week by mixing his white laundry with red clothes, so he was forced to attend his classes with pink uniform until he got new shirts. nothing satisfied you more than the glares he sent your way throughout the first day of his pink week, you could feel him boring holes into the back of your head even when you weren’t looking.

now, a sigh escapes you as you think of the (eventful) year coming up. spending the last year of your studies with your arch nemesis wasn't what you had in mind, but it surely can't be that bad, right?

; taglist (closed!) - @wonuslust @enhacatalog @makiswrld @forjungwons @yebin14 @lovelovelovebts @amanda-archives @beomgyusonlywife @bbinwrld @em-asian @enhamysunshines @ahnneyong @jungwonscafe send an ask or comment on this post to be tagged when the full fic is up!

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #k labels #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon oneshots #jungwon ff #enhypen fic #hogwarts au #enhypen #enhypen jungwon #ੈ♡˳ - in my head

[wielderofmysteries]

(We Need to Talk About Narset)

[Left: Narset, Enlightened Master - Livia Prima. Right, clockwise from top left: Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, Dr. Shaun Murphy from The Good Doctor, Sam Gardner from Atypical, Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds.]

(This is a re-upload of the original article since there were some formatting issues with the original. You can still read it at this link, but the pictures aren't full resolution.)

This is article is intended to be a primer for my larger upcoming article on autistic representation in Magic.

I found out about Narset in 2018, when I had just started learning about Magic’s lore for the first time. I was overjoyed to see that Magic’s first official autistic character seemed to be the complete opposite of the stereotypical depictions of autism I’d seen in other media. Instead of a nerdy brown-haired white boy, Narset was a 50 year old Asian woman and a badass martial artist. As an Asian autistic kid, I often felt invisible and underrepresented in the media I consumed, so Narset really meant a lot to me.

However, when I actually read Narset’s lore, I was disappointed to find that she wasn’t nearly as revolutionary as I’d thought.

When the Dragons of Tarkir stories were being published in 2015, Doug Beyer, a writer and designer for Magic, confirmed in a Tumblr post that Narset was intentionally created to be an autistic character.

=========

maudlingoblin asked:

hi doug!! reading the new uncharted realms, i felt an enormous amount of sympathy for narset, specifically with reference to the beginning sequence with her as a kid. the restlessness, the sensory overload, the self-distraction with counting and observation - these, to me, heavily code narset as being autistic. i am autistic myself and it would mean the absolute world to me to know that a character in a game i care deeply about is like me, and many other folks. is this something you can confirm?

dougbeyermtg answered:

That was the intent, yes. The most important part of Narset’s character is her amazing mind, which is central to her potential as a powerful Planeswalker and as a pursuer of knowledge — but it happens that she processes information and input differently than a lot of other people. Tarkir denizens might not have a term for the autism spectrum or being neurodivergent or neuro-atypical, but those terms would correctly describe her. In this timeline she is not khan of the Jeskai, but no matter the circumstances, she hasn’t let go of her commitment to seeking her own path to wisdom and truth. Kudos to Creative Team member Kimberly Kreines for exploring this aspect of Narset in her story “The Great Teacher’s Student.”

[https://dougbeyermtg.tumblr.com/post/112727174244/hi-doug-reading-the-new-uncharted-realms-i-felt]

=========

(Art: Dragonlord Ojutai - Chase Stone)

The Great Teacher’s Student tells the story of Narset’s childhood under the rule of Dragonlord Ojutai. At eight years old, Narset was a pretty realistic autistic child, having many traits that I shared. She fidgeted restlessly, had sensory overloads, and her mother found it difficult to take her out to public spaces. Narset’s brain was extremely pattern-oriented, one of the most defining traits of autism. She saw numbers everywhere, and counted to soothe herself.

=========

The cries of the merchants, the bold colors of the wares, and the too-sweet aromas of the produce were like walls that made the marketplace feel too tight, too close, too much. The muscles of Narset’s legs twitched and her lungs felt cramped. She tugged at her robe; it was strangling her. Her mother must have cinched it too tightly.

“Stand still,” her mother scolded from above. “You’ll knock something over.” She was poring over the apples at the top of a tall mound too high for Narset to see.

Narset tried to stand still, but she couldn’t. The restlessness inside her wanted her to move. Sometimes when she felt that way she distracted herself. She would count things, or search for patterns, or study people’s expressions. But she knew the marketplace too well; she knew its numbers and she knew its patrons. She had already taken inventory. The man with the cane was limping less that day, putting more weight on his bad leg; Narset supposed the balm he had purchased from the herbalist the week before had worked to ease the pain. There were, as usual, three dozen meat slabs hanging at the butcher’s stand with an average of eighteen striations per slab; the average number of striations hardly ever changed, although sometimes there was greater variance. The merchant at the squash stand had uneven stains on his sleeves and three stray threads hanging from his robe; he must have gotten it caught in his cart and had to pull himself free. And there were sixty-eight apples in the mound in front of Narset; that was accounting for the volume inside the mound, which she couldn’t see but could predict well enough. There would be sixty-seven apples if her mother would ever just choose one.

Her mother hemmed and hawed, her fingers alighting first on one apple and then another, fluttering over the choices, but never settling.

She’s never going to pick one, Narset thought. We’re never going to leave. Panic set in. Her vision blurred, her ears rang, and her forehead began to sweat. She frantically searched for something else to distract her, but there was nothing else she could see. At eight, Narset wasn’t tall enough to see over any of the stands or any of the bodies. It was like she was in a never-ending maze of tall sweaty, smelly people-trees.

She was trapped.

[The Great Teacher’s Student - Kimberly J. Kreines]

=========

Narset was a believably written autistic character in this story, but that doesn’t automatically mean it was good, or that it was what autistic people wanted to see. To be clear, this story was neither unrealistic nor offensive to me. Writing Narset as an autistic character was something the creative team genuinely cared about and tried to do well. But I was still disappointed because Narset in this story is just another example of the “autistic savant” trope that the media can’t seem to let go of.

Fictional or real, almost every autistic person you will see in the media will be a savant; some kind of socially-inept genius whose intelligence or skill far surpasses their peers. This person may be a mathematician, a surgeon, a child prodigy who attends college but can’t tie their shoes– the list goes on and on. You’ve probably seen many stories like this before.

As a child, Narset had an extraordinary memory and a gift for mental math. She was able to calculate the volume of a pile of apples, find the exact trajectory of a falling apple to catch it in mid-air, and memorize things like the pattern of a river’s flow; all at a glance.

In The Great Teacher’s Student, Narset accidentally knocks over a pile of apples at the market, upsetting the merchant and prompting her mother to send her outside. Dragonlord Ojutai noticed Narset’s talent and desire for knowledge as she explored the field outside, and wanted to encourage her. He tutored her from a distance for several years before officially deciding to train her as a student when she was 11 years old.

After this moment, the story shifts its focus almost entirely to Narset’s academic journey. We get to see that in the years that passed since Narset became a student of Ojutai, she was still really, really smart. She finally felt challenged and supported in the way she needed, and she was good at so many things.

In fact, she was better than everyone else at everything.

She learned more, and faster than everyone else. She won every fight. She spoke Draconic intuitively, and Ojutai constantly praised her. At age 15, Narset became the youngest person to ever hold the rank of Master.

=========

As she looked back now, she recognized her time at the sanctuary as the best years of her life. She was happier than she had ever been; she was challenged, recognized, fulfilled. Her restlessness had ceased haunting her; she had felt a sense of peace. And while she wasn’t physically moving, she knew she was on a path, going where she was meant to go, becoming who she was meant to be. Ojutai was leading her. And not a day went by that she didn’t thank her dragon for the gift.

Narset advanced more quickly than any other student, climbing the ranks of Dragon’s Eye Sanctuary, moving upward from the lowest balconies to the highest terraces, until one day Ojutai called for her to come stand on his own private perch.

[…]

“My student, Narset, it is time. Your hunger for knowledge is your greatest strength. You have become strong, and powerful, and wise because you have never stopped seeking enlightenment.” The dragon beamed down at her. She knew what was about to come, and for one glorious moment everything felt perfect. “I now bestow upon you the title of Master, which you have assuredly earned, and with it all the honor and responsibility it brings.” Ojutai bowed his head and rested his giant paw on her shoulder.

Narset bowed her head in return and clasped her small hand over the dragon’s paw, making no attempt to wipe the hot tear that streaked down her cheek. At fifteen, she was the youngest master Ojutai had ever named. She had reached the top.

[The Great Teacher’s Student - Kimberly J. Kreines]

=========

I didn’t like how Narset’s story focused so much on autistic exceptionalism– on how Ojutai gave her special treatment because she was better than everyone else at everything.

Autistic achievement should be celebrated, and Narset’s desire for endless learning is so deeply, truly autistic. But I feel like Narset’s story and those of other autistic savants are just so extraordinary that it’s too hard to relate to them. These kinds of fictional portrayals and real-world news features attempt to endear autistic people to allistic (non-autistic) audiences by saying, “Look! Autistic people aren’t bad, they’re actually better than us!” But focusing on exceptional individuals doesn’t help to humanize autism.

It sets an unrealistic expectation for autistic people, and can be extremely alienating. Autistic people shouldn’t have to be superhuman to be respected, and the truth is that the overwhelming majority of autistic people are completely ordinary.

When I was diagnosed with autism at age 11, I obsessively searched the internet for information about autism, to learn what other autistic people experienced, and what “normal” people thought of us. I learned that geniuses were loved, and everyone else was hated. I hoped for years that I would magically develop some kind of incredible talent so I could be like the autistic geniuses in the news. I hoped someone would notice me and enroll me in college early or make me famous so I would be respected for something. It didn’t happen. It wasn’t fair to myself, but when I saw stories about savants, I didn’t feel proud to be autistic. Instead, I saw myself as a failure.

Autistic savants don’t need more representation. Most autistic people, even most of the geniuses and prodigies, will never have the kinds of opportunities that Narset and other famous savants have had. But when neurotypical people have only ever seen autistic savants, they expect you to be a genius. And when people expect you to be a genius, being ordinary just makes you a disappointment.

The Magic narrative team clearly recognized the fact that most allistic peoples’ first exposure to autism is through popular media and that it’s a major influence on the audience’s image of what autism is like. So they tried to make a good first impression by making Narset a positive portrayal, but it backfired in one key way: Narset’s writing in this story was so focused on making her as extraordinary and obviously autistic as possible that it neglected to make her a human being. She’s believable, but not compelling. Narset’s story is about an autistic character, but it’s not really about what it’s like to be autistic.

(And I hate to say it, but… there’s nothing revolutionary about making your Asian autistic character a math genius.)

What frustrates me about the way Narset was written is that I actually believe her autism was extremely under-utilized in her writing.

Autism is lifelong, but I don’t really feel like the story treats it that way. Beyond the first scene of Narset as a younger child, the story doesn’t show how Narset’s autism affected her life other than making her really smart.

Upon realizing that Ojutai had nothing left to teach her, Narset became restless and anxious again. She was desperate to learn anything new. When she was 16 years old, Narset discovered the lost history of Tarkir, and it was the possibility of new knowledge that ignited her Planeswalker spark.

Narset’s greatest challenge was that she was literally so good that she couldn’t get any better.

As a child, Narset was shown to have trouble communicating and interacting with others. After Narset became Ojutai’s student, she’s barely shown interacting with anyone other than Ojutai ever again. How did Narset’s differences affect the way she interacted with her fellow students? Did she want to try to make friends? What happened to her mother? How would she have felt about Narset’s progress? The story doesn’t explore any of this. What about her overwhelming sensory overloads? Did she still have them? If so, did her triggers change? She used to soothe herself by counting and finding patterns. When her anxiety returned later in the story, did her coping mechanisms change or stay the same? This isn’t shown, either.

At the end of The Great Teacher’s Student, Narset was still a teenager, but she’s supposed to be about 50 years old now. We know that the present Narset is an independent autistic adult, who has friends and goals and decades of life experience, and that’s beautiful– but we never get to see how she got there. How did she learn to make friends? How did she decide what she wanted to do with her life? That journey is what I want to see being written for autistic characters.

(Art: Quiet Contemplation - Magali Villeneuve)

To contrast, Narset’s story in the Khans of Tarkir timeline does address these things. In Enlightened, Narset is the narrator, and she speaks personally of her challenges as a young autistic person: her academic struggles as a daydreaming student, her feelings of alienation, being bullied, and how she threw herself into her training to cope. These experiences and feelings carried on into adulthood, and influenced the way she approached her responsibilities as the Jeskai Khan.

=========

As a young girl, I had the same “problem,” as my teachers called it. I always lived in my head, but not in the way the instructors wished. I dreamt of fantastical worlds and used the scrolls given for lessons to draw them, incurring the wrath of my elders. I found solace in my own mind and often had difficulty knowing how to talk to others. It was as though my mind was always five steps ahead of my mouth. It was so taxing interacting with others. I never knew what to say, often causing me to blunder, and I was embarrassed in front of my teachers and classmates. I then went over those failed interactions in my mind, and I found the imaginary worlds more forgiving.

Studying was a way to escape my anxiety and I eagerly embraced history and philosophy, memorizing all I could about Jeskai teachings. I impressed my teachers, but I still felt like an outsider. I did enjoy sparring with those who had taunted me, easily humiliating them in combat as they had humiliated me with their words.

[…]

Even though I am now their khan, I still felt like an outsider—like the young girl always fumbling her words—only now I don’t show it. I think this has been what gives me the strength to do what is needed, looking at the Jeskai like I am not really a part of them.

[Enlightened - Matt Knicl]

=========

Overall, I feel like Enlightened was a much more thoughtful story despite being much shorter. Sadly, Tarkir’s time travel plot means that version of Narset no longer exists. We haven’t gotten any stories featuring Narset since 2015, so the version of Narset we saw in The Great Teacher’s Student is the Narset we are stuck with.

I don’t necessarily believe that Narset is “bad” autistic representation. I still love Narset, and she means a lot to me. But Narset’s stories are focused on setting her apart, separating her from other people, and showing that she is too different to be a part of the world around her. In my opinion, Narset deserves better than that, and that is why I believe Narset is not the best autistic representation Magic has to offer.

My next article will be about the autistic representation I wanted to see in Magic. Something a little more down-to-earth. Something I could more easily relate to. And I found that in an unexpected character: Nissa.

#mtg #narset #analysis #reupload

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

So, Across the Spiderverse has had me in a chokehold since I watched it. Could you imagine a Yuu in the House Mouse au who is not exactly powerless, but her abilities are not magic-based? Welcome to the crossover that nobody asked for, and I'm gonna pretend that secret identities don't exist for a moment and that disrupting canon events from astv don't exist.

Spider!Yuu's spidey senses can tell when danger is afoot. Whenever she's on the clock, there's fewer accidents and just swings by before Goofy trips and tosses all the dishes. She can tell when either Pete or Mortimer are here.The staff can rely on her for cleaning the high ass ceilings because she can climb up walls with no problem. And her webs make the best Halloween decor.

Von Drake and Jumba being so fascinated with Yuu's anatomy and intelligence. Whether has organic webbing or made web shooters of her own, they want so badly to experiment on them (definitely not gonna try to get bit by a radioactive spider too, nope).

Jamil being torn from freaked out to having a crush on a girl with spider powers. Jafar trying to convince him that she's not an actual spider so that his ship could sail

Yuu making a web hammock to calm down the little kids in the club. Next minute she's having a strength competition with Hercules and Gaston because she can lift up to ten tons.

The clubgoers seeing her memories and freaking over the fact that Yuu has been up against so many dangerous foes and life or death situations such as the iconic train scene. It scares them even more than the overblots do.

The Parr family from the Incredible (if they're here in the au), feel so bad because she's doing vigilante work all on her own. Edna mode upgrades Yuu's spider suit to a new level with glee.

Yuu: No capes please. It's disrespectful to my image.

Edna: *sniffle* Would you like to be my daughter?

Okay okay okay first of all I'm going to vent a bit about ATSV because Pavitr my boy, my sunshine, my everything is literally so important to me like hell yeah give me the south asian/brown kid representation (now if only there was an young asian girl with a bob so I can feel better about that Dora the Explorer look my mum forced me to have throught 90% of primary school whilst all of my friends got to grow their own hair out)

Also not going to lie the only reason I'm into ATSV is because I've been a Mayday Parker stan since 2017 - like she is everything (and her backstory is just so sad like PeterMJ didn't deserve that). My favourite spider-people after Peter are his multiversal daughters because girldad Peter is everything (I actually own physical copies of the Renew Your Vows comics that are about Peter and MJ's daughter, Annie-May Parker, and they are so frickin good) but I digress...

Yes but Spider-Girl!Yuu is so cool. Thank you for giving me this idea.

I don't know if I want Yuu to have her own Guy in the Chair back in her universe and for Idia to feel jealous/threatened or for her to have no guy in the chair until she comes to twst and Ortho is like 'my time has come'

Ohh imagine the insane parkour skills she, Ruggie and Aladdin would have.

I know that being insanely smart in science is a Peter Parker thing and doesn't really apply to all Spider-People but I think she would be a science whizz (and joining the science club - making Crewel's already glaringly obvious favouritism skyrocket) and hanging out with all of the scientist characters like Prof Von Drake, Jumba, Yzma etc.

Her and Herc would be training buds. He'd see her and her heroics and superhuman friend and be like 'new best friend :D'. Phil loves the heroic potential she has and wants to train her but Pegasus and Megara are like nope and swoop him away.

Oh but imagine the beastfolk finding out about her enhanced senses and how sometimes they cause sensory overload and helping her out because they grew up like that so they know how to manage it better (I once read a fic that said that Savanaclaw showers have soaps with subtler scents to accommodate their enhanced sense of smell and like yes) whilst she's still getting used to it and has to keep it a secret back in her world.

I'm thinking back to all of the MCU!Peter Parker fics I read and all of the spider DNA tropes that tickled my fancy and I can just imagine the twst/HoM cast reacting to things like her having no thermoregulation (and going into hibernation), her purring, her being allergic/having a poison like reaction to peppermint, her having fangs (her being venomous would be cool as well - like imagine Kaa being all fanboying over her fangs and venom glands) etc..

Okay so I remember having a bunch of ideas about this but I can't recall all of them so here... 😅

#asks #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #fem yuu #house of mouse au

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Liveblog: Radio Killed the Video Star

I have no expectations for this episode, I haven’t seen nor heard anything on this particular episode, so I genuinely am going in blind.

I wish Angel didn’t ever speak again.

So Vox hates Val

Velvette isn’t actually British. - One quick google search later and I can confirm that.

“Gone” and “Done” are not rhymes.

Well Velvette has a terrible accent, but at least she sticks to one. What is Valentino’s VA doing?

Sir Pentious getting off the ground was the jankiest animation of the series to this point. The animation suffering so much this early on…

Vaggie saying it as it is: “Sexually harass the staff”. How entertaining to have a modicum of self awareness.

So it is confirmed that fornication is a sin.

Angel Dust has big sad over putting in no effort.

Every single voicemail is a new voice, Valentino, more like Legion. And not talking about the mood swings, I mean every time he calls he just has a whole different character voice every single time.

“Whorebug” is an insult to Angel Dust who, just the last episode said, “This body was made to be exploited.”.

Can Vaggie just never sing again. She just cannot sound like her character and it breaks all immersion.

Okay, sidebar, I did see people saying Nifty was child coded and I thought that was so weak based on the replies of people saying short women are still women. So like, I agreed that claiming Nifty was “Child coded” was a weak argument for the sake of compounding criticism against Medrano and her writing. Nevermind. Nifty is absolutely supposed to be seen as child-like. The line “I hated that song” and “Not a bad boy” are written like she is a child character. I think child-coded is a ridiculous term however, so let’s call it what it is: Niffty is an infantilized hypersexual woman with a penchant for rough sex and is coded as Asian.

This episode felt much shorter than the first. I am about three drinks in at this point and I’m not sure if that is just my perception of how little happened in this episode or if the premiere episode was just given a longer runtime. I don’t even have anything to really say because nothing about this episode expanded the plot, the world or the characters. It just added a new one without really explaining to us what his sins are. He just seems like someone who wants to be liked by powerful people and is otherwise purely mediocre. I get why the pilot voice didn’t come back, aside from the utter betrayal that was Medrano giving her entire cast, many of who lended their voices for free with a promise to at least try to keep them on, the ax. But the pilot voice voice was so much better. Alex Brightman’s having fun I guess, but it isn’t the voice he chose, he’s just doing an impression and it lacks any soul.

1/10

Oh right, I need to pick one thing I liked. Angel Dust’s line about the wall was amusing. I did an lol, but like, the puff of air through one’s nose that people actually do when they type “lol”.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #spindlehorse criticism #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel liveblog #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #liveblogging

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

lilia and uncle iroh

“Leaves from the vine, falling so slow… Like fragile, tiny shells drifting in the foam. Little soldier boy comes marching home… Brave soldier boy comes marching home.”

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how similar Lilia and Iroh’s character development is 🤔 At a surface level, they’re both the wise mentor types that guide their somewhat misguided or naive pupils—but the parallels run even deeper than that!! I wanted to go over those in this post; maybe it would help us appreciate how far Lilia has come on his own merits ever since his war general days.

***Spoilers for book 7 of TWST and Avatar the Last Airbender (only the animated series, not other ATLA materials)!!***

To begin, let's set the stage for the character we'll be comparing Lilia to: Iroh. The show Avatar the Last Airbender takes place in a heavily Asian inspired world where some have the ability to bend an element: earth, water, fire, or air. At present, the Fire Nation has been waging a 100 years long war on the other nations in an imperialistic bid for power. Iroh, while presented as a kind and peaceful old man in modern day, was once a leading general for the Fire Nation. He was an active warmonger and, as the eldest son of the Fire Lord, set to inherit the throne, and the legacy of bloodshed and violence that came with it. Notably, even during his days as a general, Iroh still came off as mild-mannered and had a sense of humor (joking about how magnificent Ba Sing Se is, but saying that his niece and nephew may not get to see it because he might just burn it to the ground first). Iroh is also characterized as being more kind and forgiving than his younger brother Ozai, as he lied about slaying the last dragons to allow them to go into hiding and prevent people from hunting them into extinction. His personality still persists during all of this time. The event that would shake Iroh's life and serve as the impetus for turning his back on the war efforts was at the siege of Ba Sing Se, a city known for its impenetrable walls. There, Iroh managed to breech the Outer Wall and fully intended to finally conquer the city thought to be unconquerable--until he tragically lost his one and only son, Lu Ten, on the front lines. This destroyed Iroh's fighting spirit, causing him to abandon the siege and branding him a failure and a coward in the eyes of his family members.

When Iroh's father passed away under mysterious circumstances, it was his younger brother Ozai who was named as the successor. Iroh had lost the will to fight for his birthright, as he was still grieving for his son. Instead, a disillusioned Iroh left his role in the military and politics to embark on a worldly journey, visiting multiple other nations and learning from their unique cultures. At first, he was filled with great shame at his "failure" to become the Fire Lord--but with time, Iroh realized that avoiding his ascension to the throne was actually a stroke of good fortune. He turned away from the aggression and imperialism of his home country and began seeing the value in peace and balance in all things. Later on, Iroh would serve as a vital mentor and father figure to his nephew and Ozai's son, Zuko, who was banished from home and sent to capture the one person who could stop their victory in the war: the Avatar. Having been disgraced and practically renounced by his own father, Zuko had very few people left to turn to. It was his Uncle Iroh who accepted him with open arms and tried to support him through these difficult times. On their hunt, Zuko is very clearly still in a dark place, constantly insisting that he "needs to capture the Avatar" and that he needs to "regain his honor". Meanwhile, Iroh does what he can to calm his nephew and pass on wise words, extoling the virtues of peace and recognizing the importance of other nations. He urges Zuko to seek inner peace and to determine his own destiny, rather than act out a destiny that someone else has decided for him. We later learn that Iroh sees Zuko as his own son ever since he lost Lu Ten to the war, and we see this compassion and care similarly reflected in how he treats everyone around him. Rarely does Iroh ever express anger or hatred, not even when faced with men intent on harming him. One notable example of this is when a robber demands all of his money, and all Iroh does is disarm him and correct his weak stance. They then sit down, have tea, and talk about the robber's future prospects. This segment infamously comes from Iroh's segment in the episode Tales of Ba Sing Se, in which he's living in the city he once laid siege to as a refugee of war. In it, Iroh goes about his day giving helpful advice to the various people he comes across. This all culminates in the penultimate moment where he scales a hill outside the city and prepares a memorial in honor of Lu Ten. "Happy birthday, my son. If only I could have helped you too." These lines completely recontexualize everything Iroh has been doing up until this point in the series. Literally everything he does and says comes, in part, from the guilt he feels for the part he played in the war and the countless people scarred by it, including himself and his own family. He saw it happen to Lu Ten, and he fears it happening to Zuko and the numerous others touched by the horrors of war. After all, war and hatred do not discriminate. Everyone is affected by it, and Iroh is now wise enough to understand that and to wish for no one to go down the same dark path he once was. ... But hey, this is mostly meant to be a Twisted Wonderland post, so let's finally get to how any of this is relevant to Lilia.

Like Iroh, Lilia was a general to his country's military during a war. In Lilia's case, they were on the losing side, as fae were greatly outnumbered by humans and repulsed by the iron human soldiers wore in combat. The fae weren't the aggressors, but rather people who were trying to defend their territory and resources from invading humans who were tearing apart nature. From what we've observed of him in his book 7 dreamscape, the Lilia of the past is different from what we know now. He maintains his teasing humor and love of surprises, but comes off as gruff and closed off, acting suspicious of others and rejects the idea of wanting or having children. Most shockingly of all though, Lilia states that he has no interest in going to Night Raven College or really engaging with other races. This is a huge departure from modern day Lilia, who encourages his dorm members (most notably Malleus and Sebek) to go out of their comfort zones and to make efforts to understand their peers. He is also known for instilling in Silver a desire to unite people of all races (something which Silver explains to the pixies in Fairy Gala: If). Lilia even uses his wish during the Star Sending to wish for a peaceful world where everyone can live in harmony. He made LARGE strides in his worldview in the hundreds of years between then and now. It's important to note that Lilia often travels and talks about how much the world has changed. This, I assume, would lend to his knowledge and acceptance of many different races and cultures, similar to how Iroh's travels imparted knowledge and appreciation in him. Given how abrasive Lilia was during the war era (plus his refusal to consider other races), I'd surmise his travels started after the war ended.

All that's missing now is the impetus for Lilia's change in behavior: the Lu Ten to Iroh, so to speak. For Lilia, I think it's actually a compounding of many factors: firstly, his best friend (and Malleus's father) Levan, the messenger sent to an enemy fortress goes missing. Secondly, we can infer that his princess Meleanor (and Malleus's mother) must have been killed by humans (as Malleus says in modern day that his only living relative is his mother, and we are currently on a book 7 cliffhanger knowing that humans have ambushed the castle where she is staying)... leaving Lilia to pick up the pieces of a war-ravaged country and with an egg that has yet to hatch. I think it’s safe to say though that Lilia probably felt immense guilt at Malleus, still unborn, having to be raised without parents, by someone who doesn’t understand parental love himself—and perhaps Lilia took up that mantle to atone for being unable to protect them. It was also, after all, Meleanor’s wish that Lilia protect her son and ensure he hatch in her stead if something horrible befell her. Maybe, in another way, you could say that Lilia eventually wants to avoid war so that no one has to suffer such cruel, unnecessary loss as Malleus, Silver, or he did ever again.

Then we also learn that Lilia started raising Silver because he wishes to understand humans—a sentiment that Levan expressed to his friend. It was also Levan that kept the NRC invitation letter safe for Lilia, an implication to reconsider. And so Lilia willingly raises child of a sworn enemy, the Dawn Knight. We see how Silver in particular softens Lilia and changes his worldview and, most notably, Silver so innocently wished his father good health with an acorn amulet. That amulet would become Lilia’s most prized possession, and he kept it all these years later despite the acorns losing their freshness. It’s in raising Silver that Lilia recognizes and learns to appreciate the fragility that is human life and hardens his resolve to defend what he once deemed relatively unimportant.

In Lilia's case, his impetus comes from the guilt of not being there at the crucial moment to protect his sovereign--and later down the line, from the disillusionment of knowing that he had a part in escalating the conflict that would ultimately harm humans and fae alike. This may be whey he so readily adopts a policy of peace and acceptance of other races when we see in at NRC. Not only that, but it was the first person he lost, Levan, that encouraged Lilia to open his heart to other races. His enlightening travels, his experiences with raising children who are innocent and rely on him for survival, and the guilt setting in all feed into Lilia's change of heart, his desire to not see history repeat itself, and his vision of world peace. That's why he's so keen to instill these same values into those he mentors: because he knows that, someday, he won't be here anymore to spread them. While he's still around, he wants Malleus, Sebek, and Silver to carry on his legacy, to make his dream a reality.

Truthfully, Lilia could have easily gotten mad. He could have closed himself off. He could have become hateful and sought revenge. He could have blamed humans for what they took from him. It speaks immensely to his strength as an individual that he didn't, and that he instead learned from his mistakes to ensure they don't happen again. Lilia still very much has pride in his home country and its royal family. However, the difference now is that he has opened himself up to other sources, seeing that there is something wonderful in every corner and facet of the world.

Both Iroh and Lilia are wise, loving mentor characters who have developed in their own ways far before the main show/story events begin to pan out. One might even argue their development is "already finished" long before the other characters even start on theirs, which puts them in a good position to lead others. Age grants them the edge of knowledge and being able to impart that onto the younger generation, not only to avoid imminent disaster, but to create a better world for all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Lilia Vanrouge #twst character analysis #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #Uncle Iroh #ATLA #Avatar the Last Airbender #Silver #Prince Zuko #Zuko #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #Malleus Draconia #Sebek Zigvolt #Diasomnia #Dawn Knight #Meleanor Draconia #Levan Draconia

[brandycranby]

ce characters + whether your asian parents would like them and how to win them over 🥺😣🫶🏻💕🍵

based on unfortunately realistic intrusive thoughts i have while reading self-insert fics

steve: military? hm. desi peeps leave ur comments bc idk how desi parents feel but i know ALL the east asian and southeast asian parents and grandparents might have something to say about that. the US army has left its mark.. just saying... better highlight his better features such as his sensitive artistic nature!! wait. wait. not that either, no need for them to call him a bum at the dinner table.

just... have him win your mom over with his stunning future son-in-law adorableness and charming smile 😀

andy: lawyer. that's it- no, no it doesn't matter if your EA mom prefers flower boys and he's a little too bearded. lawyer. the desi parents are messaging the Whatsapp group chat, they're calling the fam back in the motherland. look at that beard. lawyer.

tall ✅ upper middle-class ✅ drives an audi ✅ divorced? he has you now.

ari: handsome... ok.. but also. military. hmm. non-religious/non-abrahamic religious peeps, your asian parents might give him a better reception. but um, "divorced?" "has a daughter??" "soldier la??" "he have steady income???" 👁️👄👁️

my super religious background peeps, im so sorry. maybe the part where he's Jewish will get lost in translation. um. that's a fight and a half at the dinner table, good luck 🥲 maybe just elope.

curtis: ... I MEAN IS IT THE APOCALYPSE?? if not, your dad would probably like him. a man's man. strong, silent, built like a brick wall and does whatever DIY project he points him towards when you visit. your mom will call him scary. i don't think that would change whether you're E/S/SEA, your mom is pulling you aside in the kitchen and asking if you're really sure about him.

let Curtis show his gentle side. yeah, he's tall and intimidating but he has a soft heart. tell your lil cousins and niblings to use him as a jungle gym

jake: see Andy above- no, EVEN MORE POWERFUL THAN ANDY. yeah, military veteran, yeah, he's a lil awkward. but. computer science. information technology. wifi. tvs, laptops, phones. your parents are going to turn him into their personal help line and you might have to put a stop to it but goddamn if they don't call him son the minute this convo happens:

"he's in cybersecurity"

"what is cyba-"

"... IT"

"OH EYE-TEE. EYE-TEE VERY GOOD"

ransom: he's rich. he wears L.L. Bean and probably has the Louis Vuitton travel duffle bag. ransom is the nicest dressed, actually fashionable, sleek, and nicest smelling compared to the rest of these bozos. your mom loves him already. your dad is on the fence but also, he's well off enough to take care of you.

don't... say that he writes. yes, he does write. but focus on the fact that he's connected to a big big publishing house. yes yes. if this is an au and he's in charge of Blood Like Wine. BUSINESS OWNER, TAKE THAT.

---

disclaimer, all asian parents different. my dad is a graphic designer/artsy (though idk if he'd want me to date an artist tbh...) if ur parents aren't represented feel free to reblog w ur thoughts 😌

#unhinged. as usual. im sorry. #my writing #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #steve rogers headcanon #andy barber headcanon #ari levinson headcanon #curtis everett headcanon #jake jensen headcanon #ransom drysdale headcanon #ce character headcanons

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

These Nimona headcanons are a day late cause yesterday was my first day at the new job and I got carpal tunnel

Bal can’t stand the sounds of knuckles cracking or joints popping 

Which is funny because like I said in this post I know that man sounds like pop rocks when he stands up 

What’s funnier is both Nimona and Ambrosius crack their knuckles any chance they get 

Ambrosius tries to do it away from Bal but Nimona does it in his ear on purpose 

One time Bal punched someone and he freaked out not because he knocked the dude out cold 

But because his knuckles cracked when he did it and he claims it felt disgusting 

I feel like you can really tell a lot about someone when it comes to their phone and the same can be said for the trio 

Bal’s phone is weirdly high-tech even by their societies standards 

When he was recovering after the wall fell he had a lot of time on his hands and just started to mess with his phone 

He doesn’t have a lot of apps on it you can tell he doesn’t really touch it unless he needs it 

He does however have an app that plays audio books because he likes listening to them on long car rides 

Ambrosius phone is the most bare-bones phone you can possibly buy 

It doesn’t have any bells and whistles at most it can call text and maybe has a couple of games on it but that’s it 

He has little to no storage and he asked Bal for help 

Bal was shocked to find out that most of his storage was being used on photos 

And that's how he found out Ambrosius has a million photos of him and Nimona just sitting on his phone

Sometimes it’s the same photo from different angles  

He doesn’t know if he should be crying or terrified cause he doesn’t remember half of these being taken

Nimona’s phone like Ambrosius is very bare bones 

He only really uses it to call and text and sometimes listen to the music he illegally downloaded 

His phone has 15 viruses because of this and Bal has given up trying to save it 

The phone is also cracked to high heaven and no one is sure how it’s still functioning 

I’ve had this idea for a while but I feel like sometimes Nimona will make incredibly outdated references 

Sometimes it’s like 20 years and sometimes it’s 500 

And she’ll have to sit the person down and explain the entire reference to them

Which is hard because sometimes the reference is deeply involved with the history that’s been purposefully covered up

So then she’ll have to give a full-on history lesson 

And you’d think she would get annoyed by this but no

She actually gets really excited explaining the history that’s been lost and why that history has been covered up 

It’s one of her special interests that she can go on about forever 

What’s even funnier is when someone references something from a long time ago and they’ll just look at them and go “How the fuck do you know that”

I find the idea of Nimona not being able to handle spicy food but loving it at the same time hilarious 

Especially considering the fact that they’re living with two Asian men and Asians don’t play about spice (I swear to this day my Mama burned both her and my tastebuds off) 

They try really hard to look tough and eat all the food they’re given 

But snot is running down their face and there are tears in their eyes and they need to take constant breaks 

Poor baby coughs when you add sriracha to their food 

Whereas Bal and Ambrosius are out here guzzling hot sauce like it’s water 

Nimona prays on their downfall while also begging the boys to teach them their ways

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #I just know Nimona has the spice tolerance of a new born baby #my whole arm hurts y'all #the pain has spread #I can't even hold my tooth brush #help

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 2

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: After the apocalypse took everything Iris held dear, a new opportunity presents itself in the form of a bag of guns. Little does she know, that bag of guns starts something much bigger than she ever could have anticipated. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; gun violence, gang violence, offensive terminology for gang members and daryl, salty language

Chapter 2 - The Deal

The kid led them to a warehouse further into the city, and Iris was fidgeting with her knives. They waited at a wall further outside the building, a broken window between them and their friend. The bandana was back over her face, the bag of guns slung over T-Dog's shoulder. Rick rattled a shotgun shell next to his ear before loading it into the gun.

The group of warehouses was old enough to be made of brick and mortar, broken windows and doorframes unaccompanied by a roof. All except for the main building at the back, where the rest of the gang was presumably waiting. The kid wasn't smart enough to set them up, hopefully.

"You sure you're up for this?" Rick asked T-Dog.

"Yeah." He assured. Daryl gripped his crossbow tightly, keeping an eye on the kid as Iris peered through the broken barred window to the gate on the other side. Wasn't anything to write home about, but looks could be deceiving. 

"One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know." Daryl grunted.

"G's gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know." The kid retorted.

"G?" Rick asked.

"Guillermo. He's the man here."

"Okay then." Rick continued, cocking the gun. "Let's go see Guillermo." He gestured for Iris to go first and she scoffed, ducking through the bars and wire fence. T-Dog took up a sniper position on the wall to give them an edge. Rick pushed the kid forward and they followed him to the gate.

They slid open with a loud creak, a group of guards standing in the doorway. One man stepped forward, a cross chain hanging from his neck. He was shorter than the kid, and young. Didn't look like much of a threat, but there were more Iris couldn't see. She gripped the handle of her knife tighter.

"You okay, little man?" Guillermo asked, his hands in his pockets as he regarded them carefully.

"They're gonna cut off my feet, carnal." The kid replied, twitching. Clearly he'd never been a hostage before. That being said, most days consisted of things Iris had never done before.

"Cops do that?" Guillermo asked, his scrunched brow directed at Rick.

"Not him. This redneck puto, here. He cut off some dude's hand, man. He showed it to me." The kid whined. Iris glanced between Daryl and the kid.

"Shut up." Daryl snapped.

"Hey, that's that vato right there, homes." One of the men from before stepped, or limped, forward, one hand pointing at Daryl with a very small revolver, the other firmly pressing a rag to his ass. "He shot me in the ass with an arrow. What's up, homes, huh?"

"Chill, ese, chill. Chill." Guillermo said, holding out his arms to keep him back. He levelled his gaze back at them. "This true? He wants Miguelito's feet? That's pretty sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion." Rick countered, shotgun still pointing at Miguel. 

"That hillbilly jumps on Felipe's cousin. Beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet. Felipe gets an arrow in the ass and you want a calm discussion?" Guillermo recounted, frowning. He licked his lips. "You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment." Rick explained. "Mistakes were made. On both sides."

"Who's that dude to you anyway? You don't look related." He asked, nodding to Daryl.

"He's one of our group, more or less. I'm sure you have a few like him."

"You got my brother in there?" Daryl asked abruptly. 

"Sorry, we're fresh out of white boys." Guillermo replied, equally as fast. "But I got Asian. You interested?"

"I have one of yours, you have one of mine." Rick said evenly. "Sounds like an even trade."

"Don't sound even to me." Guillermo grunted.

"G..." Miguel protested. "Come on, man."

"My people got attacked." Guillermo continued, unfazed. "Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where's my bag of guns?"

"Guns?" Rick asked.

"The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken." Rick replied.

"I don't think so."

"About it being yours." He continued. "It's my bag of guns." Guillermo shrugged, leaning back with a frown.

"The bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I'm supposed to take your word?" He asked. "What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now and I take what's mine?" Felipe cocked his tiny gun once more, Jorge flanking Guillermo from the other side. Daryl raised his crossbow, clicking echoes coming from inside as more guns found their targets, men raised pipes and crowbars.

"You could do that." Rick shrugged, turning to where T-Dog had a rifle levelled at Guillermo's face. "Or not."

"Oye!" Guillermo called, looking up to the roof of the warehouse. Two guys walked to the edge, a third wrestling between them, a soiled bag tucked over his head. They ripped the bag off, Glenn whimpering with a piece of duct tape over his mouth. "I see two options." Guillermo continued. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded, we'll see which side spills more blood."

Guillermo shrugged again, raising an eyebrow at them before turning and retreating into the warehouse. Jorge and Felipe followed, the doors sliding shut. Rick put the shotgun down, sighing as Glenn and the two guards disappeared back onto the roof. Iris blew out a breath.

- "Them guns are worth more than gold." Daryl said pointedly. "Gold won't protect your family or put food on the table."

He was pacing back and forth in front of the desk Rick stood at, the bag of guns set atop it in consideration. Rick was checking them one by one under Iris' watchful eye. They'd come back to their cleared building, T-Dog watching over Miguel as they decided what to do. Guillermo was right, there were two ways this could go, and neither of them were ideal.

"You willing to give that up for that kid?" Daryl asked. Iris raised an eyebrow at him. The whole reason they were here was for their friend. Though, it seemed all he cared about was finding his hand-less brother. He still didn't trust her, that much was obvious, especially by the looks he gave her every few minutes. 

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back, I might agree. But you think that vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?" T-Dog asked.

"You calling G a liar?" Miguel asked.

"Are you a part of this?" Daryl snapped, slapping the kid across the face. "You want to hold onto your teeth?"

"You willing to risk it on Guillermo's word?" Iris asked, turning back to the sheriff. Rick sighed in exasperation.

"Could be risking more than them guns. Could be your life." Daryl added, making a face at Rick. "Glenn worth that to you?"

"What life I have I owe to him." Rick answered firmly. "I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."

"So you're gonna hand the guns over." Daryl concluded.

"I didn't say that." Rick reasoned. "Look, there's nothing keeping you three here. You should get out, head back to camp."

"And tell your family what?" T-Dog asked, rubbing his temple.

"I'm not going anywhere without my guns." Iris replied, shaking her head. Rick looked to the three of them, nodding conclusively. T-Dog stepped forward, him and Daryl taking a shotgun each.

"Oh, come on. This is nuts!" Miguel protested, siting right back down as Daryl pointed a stern finger at him. "Just do like G says." They loaded them up, each taking an additional hand gun. Iris loaded up her 22, slinging a rifle over her back. 

With a towel tied into his mouth and hands bound, Miguel was escorted by the four of them back to the warehouse and the makeshift courtyard. Iris was trying to ignore the anxiety pulsing in her stomach.

Daryl had his gun pressing into Miguel's spine as they walked, armed and dangerous, through the gate and into the warehouse. Iris carried the bag of guns over her shoulder as they passed through the hoard of guards. Guillermo met them halfway through the warehouse, guns pointed in all directions.

"I see my guns," He mused, "but they're not all in the bag."

"That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that." Rick replied simply.

"Let's just shoot these fools right now, ese." Filipe urged. Daryl pressed the muzzle of the gun into the back of Miguel's head. "Alright? Unload on their asses, ese."

"I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation." Guillermo said sharply.

"No, I'm pretty clear." Rick assured. He nodded to Iris, who cut the duct tape binding Miguel's wrists and shoved him forward. "You have your man. I want mine."

"I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs." Guillermo murmured. "They're the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale. I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?"

"No, my hearing's fine. You said come locked and loaded." He stated, cocking the shotgun. It echoed as everyone around took aim, Guillermo staring down the barrel. "Okay then, we're here."

There was a pregnant pause of baited silence as they all waited for someone to make a move, to say something. They stared down one another, waiting for the triggers to be pulled. The silence was filled with a small shuffling, and a woman's voice carrying through the warehouse.

"Felipe! Felipe!" She called, tone wavering with age. Iris watched as an old woman walked through the warehouse of gangbangers with no fear.

"Abuela, go back with the others-- now." Felipe urged, keeping his gaze and gun pointed on them, though fear laced his words.

"Get that old lady out of the line of fire!" Daryl chastised. Guillermo huffed, turning to her.

"Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay?" He instructed softly. "This is not the place for you right now."

"Mr Gilbert is having trouble breathing." She pleaded, looking to her grandson and tugging on his shirt. "He needs his asthma stuff. Carlito didn't find it. He needs his medicine." Guillermo glanced nervously between them and the old woman.

"Felipe, go take care of it, okay?" He snapped. "And take your grandmother with you." Felipe took her gently, pleading with her to walk with him, but she brushed past him toward Guillermo, frowning at Rick.

"Who are those men?" She asked. "Don't you take him--"

"Ma'am--"

"Felipe is a good boy." She assured. "He has his trouble but he'll pull himself together. We need him here."

"Ma'am, I'm not here to arrest your grandson." Rick replied calmly, putting the gun down.

"Then what do you want him for?" She asked.

"He's... helping us find a missing person. A fella named Glenn." Rick answered.

"The Asian boy? He's with Mr. Gilbert. Come, come." She urged, waving him along. "I show you. He needs his medicine."

Iris hid her small smile behind her bandana as she followed Rick, Felipe and the old woman through the warehouse. Daryl and T-Dog stayed on their tail, watching the others carefully, even though Guillermo ordered to let them pass. 

The old woman held Rick's hand as she led them out of the warehouse and through a neat garden, and through the doors to another building. It was a hospice center, or a retirement home of some sort. Felipe asked his grandmother to take him to Mr. Gilbert, while the others glanced around.

There were doctor's offices and hospital beds, everything occupied by elderly people. Iris was quick to sheath her knives, following Rick into an old auditorium, tables and chairs set up for a common area. A man in a wheelchair at the back was coughing and wheezing, deeply inhaling as Felipe helped him with his inhaler. Glenn stood beside the, watching to make sure he'd be okay.

"What the hell is this?" Rick said softly.

"An asthma attack." Glenn replied worriedly. "Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden."

"I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man." T-Dog hissed. A small bark sounded from the corner, a trio of chihuahuas sitting in a leopard print bed. 

"Could I have a word with you?" Rick asked, taking Guillermo to the side. "You're the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met..." He hissed, Iris' attention taken away by Felipe's grandma approaching her.

"Young lady, why do you hide your face? Do you have a scar?" She asked, gesturing to her own face.

"No." Iris replied with a small smile, pulling the bandana down to show her face.

"Oh, que linda eres." She cooed, patting Iris' face. "I should introduce you to my grandson. There are no more pretty young girls around here." Iris laughed nervously as she toddled over to Felipe, prodding him in her direction. He flushed, swatting her hand away as he continued to help Mr. Gilbert.

"So you're the girl with the guns." Glenn said, folding his arms as he walked over. Iris turned to him, nodding.

"Iris." She said, holding out her hand.

"Glenn." He replied with a slight frown, shaking it politely. Rick and Guillermo finished their little chat, the former beckoning them into a small room where Guillermo could speak to them quietly.

"What about the rest of your crew?" Rick asked, gesturing to Iris. She handed him the bag of guns, eyeing the interaction closely.

"The vatos trickle in, to check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are and most decide to stay." Guillermo explained. "It's a good thing, too. We need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart? The worst kind. Plunderers, the kind that take by force."

"That's not who we are." Rick assured.

"How was I to know?" He defended. "My people got attacked, and you show up with Miguel hostage-- appearances."

"Guess the world changed." T-Dog mused.

"No." Guillermo disagreed. "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can't even get to the bathrooms by themselves, so that's just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that's worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here? They all look to me now. I don't even know why."

"Because they can." Rick replied honestly. He handed the shotgun to Guillermo, and began to sort the guns from the bag. 

Iris turned from the room, walking back out into the auditorium. The vatos kept an eye on her, but she walked over to the closest.

"Hey, Felipe?" She asked. He turned from the table of elderly people, frowning at her sudden appearance. Iris took a map from her coat pocket and a pencil from an abandoned crossword puzzle, circling a place on the map. "I don't know who's in charge of the runs, but just outside the city here, there's an auto shop. If you can make it, there's a van out back full of parts, more cars in the shop. Take whatever you need. No one's gonna come back for it."

"Why?" He asked, taking the map and frowning. Iris shrugged, trying to offer him a comforting smile.

"Gesture of good faith?"

#thenameisz #skeletons #Daryl Dixon #Daryl Dixon x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x f!oc #Daryl Dixon x oc