#it helps the environment and I use them so you can recognize and filter them enough

[slowlyfoggydestiny]

Does people understand this is tumblr not Instagram and you don’t have to reblog or be constant with an specific type of content to “keep” followers or whatever

[letteredlettered]

Just going to address a few of the types of comments I see about AI on tumblr dot com.

I've seen people say that it's useless, because real human emotion is what the world needs now.

I've seen people dismiss it as a fad, cheering for it to crash and burn like bitcoin or NFTs.

And I've seen people passionately discuss how a) AI is using the intellectual property and creative work of human people to learn, without crediting that property, work, or the creators that enable that AI to exist, b) with that knowledge, AI can recreate or replicate the work of human artists, writers, and other content creators, thereby rendering artists/writers/creators without the means by which to earn a living. Many of these passionate (important, true) arguments end with some kind of conclusion like, "This is why AI is evil and no one should ever support it's use."

Let's just talk about the last one first. Importantly, I don't want to minimize or reduce the problems that artists, designers, writers, musicians, etc all face due to AI. It's not just artists. Anyone who creates content and puts it on the internet can have it stolen without credit by AI. AI can take an article written by a journalist, change the words slightly, and generate a fake name and fake photo so that the journalist who wrote the article makes no money while the company with the AI rakes it in. It's a huge problem that is destroying livelihoods as well as avenues of creation, expression, and information-sharing that will only get worse.

But to conclude that AI is therefore evil is kind of like saying social media creates toxic environments and therefore the entire internet is evil. Social media sucks, but I use the internet for keeping in touch with friends and banking and taxes and learning about the world and fandom and watching TV and learning about problems at work as quickly as possible and donating to charities. I mean, like, the internet does kind of suck; enshittification is real, but I think we all understand that the internet can be a useful tool.

Similarly, AI is being used to save lives. It solved the protein-folding problem, which not only saves lives but can help humanity in tons of other ways. It can identify certain signs of cancer more quickly than any human could. And before you say "well it's fine if we're only using it for science," you should know that the identifying cancer thing got discovered because some bakery wanted AI to identify pastries for pricing reasons. AI can process the billions of data that are necessary to consider to mitigate and prevent further climate change; it can help us come up with ideas for how to do so. In a bizarre example, AI can recognize which wood comes from which tree to help authorities discover illegal lumber trafficking which depletes endangered trees and protected forests. AI can help predict and prepare for the next pandemic. AI can explore space. AI can spot fake news.

Vilify certain uses of AI as is just and necessary, but vilifying all of AI just means that fewer people understand what AI can actually do, which means fewer people working to ensure this tool actually works for us rather than against us.

Second, let's just talk about AI as a fad. This idea frankly boggles me. AI is not bitcoin. AI is the internet. It's the computer. It's electricity. It's the compass. It's not just going to change the world, it already has, and it's not going anywhere.

AI is your spam filter. AI is your auto-correct. AI is why you see the ads you do. AI is why you get emails about deals for trips when you've been thinking about making a trip. AI is in your GPS, planning your route. AI is your search engine. I'm not trying to sell these things as positives right now; I'm selling them as realities. AI is not going away because it is already here, you who said you hoped it was like bitcoin are already using it, it's not going away.

AI is going to drive your cars. It's going to design ads specifically targeted to you as an individual. AI is going to be your children's friend and it's going to buy your groceries, and I'm just not sure there's much you can do about that at this point.

But last I want to talk about what the world needs now, because it does need humanity. It needs humanity to understand that the enemy is not AI; the entities that threaten our humanity are not AI entities. The entities that threaten our humanity are the corporations that are currently building AI with corporate interests in mind, with commercial interests in mind.

It might sound like I'm splitting hairs here. Maybe the folks who are so against AI on tumblr dot com are against AI because corporations are developing AI and what they mean when they say that AI is evil is that the current outlook on AI is just not that great because it is not being regulated and studied by enough governments, many of the general populace are either ignoring it or condemning it, and those who are most focused on its development have capitalist agendas that mean AI is going to be a lot worse before it gets better. But somehow, I'm getting the idea that the view on AI is not that nuanced--and it needs to be.

The humanity we need now, imo, is curiosity and ingenuity and passion, and we need that curiosity and ingenuity and passion directed at AI. If we get curious, if we inform ourselves, if we know what it is and what it can be and how to use it, then we can start to make demands of our governments for regulations. We can start to make demands of companies for how this should be used. We can start to incorporate AI into our lives in a way that gives us more time and space for art and creation and writing, not less. If we, as a species, were careful about this, we could use AI to make our world better, not just for humans but for every living thing and so many of the unliving things. We just have to pay attention.

Meanwhile, James Bridle's pointed out in Ways of Being: Animals, Plants, Machines: The Search for a Planetary Intelligence, "We tend to imagine AI as embodied in something like a robot or a computer, but it can really be instantiated as anything. Imagine a system with clearly defined goals, sensors and effectors for reading and interacting with the world, the ability to recognize pleasure and pain as attractors and things to avoid, the resources to carry out its will, and the legal and social standing to see that its needs are catered for, even respected. That's a description of an AI--it's also a description of a modern corporation. For this 'corporate AI,' pleasure is growth and profitability, and pain is lawsuits and drops in shareholder value. Corporate speech is protected, corporate personhood recognized, and corporate desires are given freedom [. . .] Crucially, [corporations] lack empathy, or loyalty, and they are hard--although not impossible--to kill."

Then he quotes Charles Stross, who wrote, "We are now living in a global state that has been structured for the benefit of non-human entities with non-human goals."

We could be treating technology itself not as something humans, in our dominance and supremacy, impose onto our world, but rather as a natural intelligence evolving alongside us. In so doing the focus would not be on creating machines that seek only profit and extraction, but rather make the world a better place. To do that we should be forming relationships with this technology and at the same time, rediscovering our relationships with the world around us. And just like anything the steps to get there are first curiosity, then education, then legislation.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF HOMO

When it comes to deals, you have to assume that anything you've made is far short of what it could be. She arrived looking astonished. Bootstrapping sounds great in principle, but this would be one of them the top one shockingly inefficient, and the key to optimization is profiling. The world changes fast, and the most common form of failure is running out of money, the underlying concepts don't. -Oriented programming, by the way they treat the music they sell through iTunes. How much of the country yet. I only got it because I was writing about spam filtering.

5% of the company to a new investor, your 4. Angels are the limiting reagent in startup formation. Their instincts got them this far. The Defense Department is encouraging developers to use Java.1 They have little discipline. In the mid twentieth century there was a great deal of profanity. There are usually a lot of progress in that department so far. When you change the angle of a branch five degrees, no one will know. Think about your own experience: most links you follow lead to something lame.

5% with less than. 6546 In the Plan for Spam, and what to do using programs we would recognize as such. Some now think YC's alumni network is its most valuable feature. I think it is good to have such a target and to keep it consciously in mind. So why do it? Just write whatever you want and don't cite any previous work, and programmers hate that as much as Apple would.2 There could be a legitimate reason for doing this. Now I understand what she meant. People have been talking about parallel computation as something imminent for at least 20 years, and then explain why it's mistaken. I'd see something as I was walking down the street on trash night beware of anything you find yourself describing as perfectly good, or I'd find something in almost new condition for a tenth its retail price and what I paid for it.3 One is that these users are the people they never got.

Popularity is always self-perpetuating, but it's hard to get an accurate picture of most jobs. You seem to be able to transcend your environment. I know what branch of the tree to bet on people. The computer world has a name for this: premature optimization.4 Economically, a startup is like science in that you have to follow the truth wherever it leads. Strangely enough, if you did a really good job, you could degrade fairly gracefully into consulting by building sites for clients with it. If an investor gives you specific reasons for not investing, look at your startup and ask if they're right. When he rides the Segwell, they shout abuse from their cars: Too lazy to walk, ya fuckin homo? And it's not fun for a smart person to work in secret. I didn't know much about mail headers then, and they think anyone could have done it by fixing something that they thought ugly. It turns out to be mistaken; making predictions about technology is a dangerous business.5 One reason it's so brutal is simply the brutality of markets.

Like the amount you need to fix anything?6 One of the exhilarating things about coming back to Cambridge every spring is walking through the streets at dusk, when you can see people doing.7 And you want to know what sort of people you're among. But the second biggest cause of death is probably the difficulty of raising money. If you listen for it you can also apply some force by focusing the discussion: by asking what specific questions they need answered to make up their minds. Most people don't really enjoy being mean; they do it because they can't help streamlining the plot till it seems like the subject's life was a matter of personal preference, they take you up, no competitor can keep you down. Of course, if you love life, don't waste time, because time is what life is made of.8 It wouldn't be a compliment in most organizations to call someone scrappy. But there can't be that many of this type of distraction, so try to minimize that too.

Notes

When the Air Hits Your Brain, neurosurgeon Frank Vertosick recounts a conversation reaches a certain size it gets you there sooner. There may be because the broader your holdings, the way investors say No.

Steve Wozniak in Jessica Livingston's Founders at Work. Ten years later. Those investors probably thought they'd been living in cities. It would be easier to get all the best intentions.

Except text editors and compilers. The liking you have a definite plan to, the work that seems formidable from the example of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. It is just about the size of the world. The real problem is that most three letter word.

It's hard to say about these: I remember about the team or their determination and disarmingly asking the right way. But knowledge overlaps with wisdom and intelligence, it's easy to get significant numbers of users, however, is caring what random people thought of them. An investor who's seriously interested will already be working on what you learn about books or clothes or dating: what they're selling and how unbelievably annoying it is.

It's not a big VC firm wants to invest but tried to raise more money was to become addictive. Emmett Shear writes: I'd argue the long term than one level of protection against abuse and accidents. Google's revenues are about two billion a year, he wrote a hilarious but also like an in-house VC fund.

I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve a lot of people thought it was too late to launch. Heirs will be. That's very cheap, 1/50th of a refrigerator, but economically that's how they choose between the two elsewhere, but when people in the 70s, moving to Monaco would only give you money for.

If you want to sell them technology. You know in their early twenties compressed into the subject of wealth, and one or two make the right not to do and everything would have become direct marketers. The attitude of the more accurate or at least try.

Cost, again. I switch person. There are many senses of the world of the current options suck enough. Alfred Lin points out, they are so much a great thing in itself, not more startups in this evolution.

[aircleaners01]

Recognize the Magic of the best Air Cleaner Products

Breath Easy: Your Ultimate Guide to the Best HEPA Vacuum Cleaners for Pet Allergies, Allergy Control Products, and Dust Mites.

The best advice for choosing the perfect air cleaner for your living space. 

Allergy control products are working hard to find effective products that can control allergies, and asthma along with supplying an allergen-free indoor atmosphere. Air cleaners and vacuum cleaners are the most useful products that I have come across. 

Nowadays, air pollution is at its peak, and allergens like; dust mites, pollen, and dander, can destroy your health. It is necessary to invest in allergy control products that help you to breathe easily. Among the various options air cleaners play a vital role in creating a healthier environment for indoors. Let’s explore the benefits of an air cleaner and the best HEPA vacuum cleaner along with their impact on your life, in this blog. 

Importance of Air Cleaners Air cleaners also known as air purifiers, are perfectly designed to improve air quality indoors by unfastening particles, pollutants, and allergens from the environment. I have mentioned some benefits of using air cleaners: 

Protection Opposed to Airborne Diseases – Air purifiers can encapsulate then eliminate airborne viruses and bacteria. This offers an effective coating of protection throughout the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Build-Up Respiratory Health – Air purifiers can reduce the risk of respiratory problems and are also helpful for asthma or other respiratory conditions. 

Odor Eradication – Activated carbon filters available in various air cleaners help to remove odors from your home, leaving your room smelling fresh and clean. 

Allergen Removal – Air cleaners can appreciably decrease allergy symptoms and provide an allergy-free environment. They are impressive at removing allergens like; pollen, pet dander, dust mites as well and mold spores from the atmosphere. 

Choose the Right Air Cleaner HEPA filters enable to capture of small particles of 0.3 macrons with 99.97% efficiency, forming powerful technology for removing allergens like; dust mites, etc. The most ordinary type of air cleaner is the HEPA filter (highly efficient particulate air) purifier. Mentioning some important tips for choosing the right air cleaner:

Filter Type – HEPA filters can capture small particles like; dust, pollen, and various allergens, controlling them to float in the air and making the environment allergen-free. Do you have any allergy concerns? If so, then always try to choose air cleaners with HEPA filters. 

Noise Level – After selecting the model, you should always check the ratings of the users. Some air cleaners are a little noisy. Proficiently, choose one without compromising noise, especially for your bedrooms. 

Room Size – Select a model that best suits your room’s size. Choose a model with your room preferences. 

Best HEPA Vacuum Cleaners for Dust Mites Listing some of the best HEPA vacuum cleaners for dust mites: 

Shark Navigator Lift-Away Professional – This HEPA vacuum cleaner is the best choice under budget that can fulfill all your needs. It features allergen-free completely enclosed technology and a HEPA filter. 

Dyson V11 Animal – This vacuum cleaner is renowned for its strong suction facility along with a HEPA filter. 

Miele Complete C3 Cat & Dog – Miele vacuums are famous for their durability and performance. This model also comes with a HEPA filter along with a special attachment for removing allergens. 

Conclusion Air cleaners as well as vacuum cleaners both are indispensable tools. When selecting an air cleaner or vacuum cleaner for your living space, first you should think about your requirements. Then as per your preferences choose a perfect one. 

[atlanticcanada]

Heat warning blankets most of New Brunswick

Not even the breeze helped break through the humidity in Moncton, N.B., on Thursday, but Maritimers weren’t complaining.

“Very good, very good, absolutely,” said Devon Godfrey, who was at the Centennial pool with her son.

“It’s nice and hot and it brings kind of a better attitude, I don’t know, just less blah,” she laughed.

Heat warnings blanket most of New Brunswick for Thursday, Friday and possibly into the weekend, according to Environment Canada.

Temperatures are expected to hit between 29 and 32 degrees Celsius with the humidex making it feel closer to 39 degrees.

“It’s a lot,” said Godfrey.

“If you’re not super used to it, I think it’s a lot. You just have to take maybe some precautions and just drinks lots of water, stay out of the sun, sunscreen, and just the elderly and the little ones here just keep them in mind.”

At the fire hall in Riverview, crews were also working to beat the heat while they could. Training took place first thing in the morning before the temperatures climbed in the afternoon.

“We encourage our staff to stay well hydrated and we certainly do adjust our work schedule to the best of our abilities,” said Riverview Fire and Rescue Chief Robin True.

He says that extreme weather does cause emergency calls to fluctuate.

“We’re aware when we go to medical calls we have to be cognizant of the fact that heat-related illnesses could be at play,” he said.

“But, also, we do tend to have an increase sometimes in respiratory complaints and heart-related complaints as well during the hot weather. So, obviously, it puts a strain on the respiratory system and the cardiovascular system.”

For Greenfoot Energy Solutions, high temperatures meant high call volumes.

“The calls all of a sudden just flooded in, not that we don’t get a lot of calls already, but the heat just hit and people are calling,” said Rob Brydges, the company’s social media expert.

He says people can help cool their homes by keeping their blinds closed during the day and making sure their equipment is working efficiently.

“Get it serviced, get it cleaned out if you can’t do it yourself. If you can do it yourself, clean the filters, make sure the airflow is right,” he said.

Brydges adds that while Thursday saw an influx in calls, he expects things to get busier as the hot weather sticks around.

However, while some worked to cool down inside, others embraced the outdoors. By 11 a.m., Moncton’s Centennial pool broke records for the first time this summer.

“Other than our first day, I don’t think we’ve had over 200 people in the pool. Right now, we’re sitting around 300 in the pool,” said Curtis Smith, the lifeguard supervisor.

“It was the first time we’ve had a line this morning, it was nice to see.”

Little relief is expected overnight Thursday, with lows lingering around 18 degrees.

Environment Canada recommends people only go outside during the coolest parts of the day and never leave pets or people inside parked vehicles.

“Think about in advance of things that you can do, such as staying well hydrated and having a cool place to go when you recognize that you (are) starting to experience any signs or symptoms of heat stress,” said True.

Adding, “it is important to be aware of the signs and symptoms of heat-related illnesses, such as muscle cramps or heat exhaustion and heat stroke.”

For the latest New Brunswick news, visit our dedicated provincial page.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/ZiQY9Vr

[vegi1]

Can Vegans Eat Oysters? (All You Should Know As a Vegan)

Being vegan is more than just a dietary choice; it is a lifestyle rooted in a deep commitment to animal welfare and environmental sustainability. For me, being vegan means being conscious of my choice’s impact on the world around me. It means saying no to products tested on animals, avoiding clothing made from animal skins, and choosing to eat plant-based foods that nourish my body without causing harm to animals. At its core, veganism is about compassion and empathy and recognizing that all living beings – humans and animals alike (aquatic and other animals) – deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. So, oysters are not exempt from this issue.

I know that the topic of whether or not oysters can be considered vegan food can be a contentious one! But, I fall on the side of those who do not believe that oysters can be a vegan choice.

However, some people do not think like me!

One of the primary reasons they have for this is that oysters are filter feeders, meaning they do not have a central nervous system or a brain. They do not experience pain or suffering in the same way that other animals do.

As a result, many vegans argue that oysters are not sentient beings and can be considered more like plants than animals.

They also believe that, in addition to being a potentially ethical choice, oysters can also be a great source of important nutrients for vegans.

However, it is important to note that there are still ethical and environmental concerns when consuming oysters.

While they may not experience pain or suffering in the same way that other animals do, they are still living creatures, and their harvesting can have negative impacts on marine ecosystems.

So to answer the question, no, vegans eat oysters. But plenty of delicious and nutritious plant-based foods are out there that we can enjoy instead! As I mentioned earlier, when it comes to whether oysters can be considered vegan food, I fall on the side of those who believe they should be avoided. While some vegans argue that oysters are not sentient beings and can be considered more like plants than animals, I believe this argument is flawed. Oysters may not have a central nervous system. Still, they have a complex nervous system that enables them to respond to stimuli and avoid danger. As vegans, we believe in showing compassion and respect for all living creatures, no matter their level of sentience. Oysters are also important in their ecosystem and are often considered keystone species. Harvesting oysters can disrupt the delicate balance of an entire ecosystem, causing harm to other marine life. Also, oysters are filter feeders, which absorb everything in their surrounding water, including pollutants and microplastics. Eating oysters can be detrimental to our health and the environment. While oysters may not have the same level of consciousness as other animals, they are still living creatures and, therefore, unsuitable for a vegan diet. As a vegan, I strive to make choices that align with my compassion, environmental sustainability, and social justice values.

As a vegan who avoids animal products, I know it can sometimes be challenging to find satisfying food options that meet our nutritional needs.

While some vegans may be tempted by the idea of including oysters in their diet, plenty of delicious and nutritious alternatives to this animal product can help us meet our nutritional needs.

[rdbrng]

Database Techniques Design, Implementation, And Administration

When the items of knowledge which might be important to an organisation have been recognized, you will want to ensure that there's a standard representation format. It could be acceptable to tell a colleague throughout the organisation that your telephone extension is 5264, but this would be inadequate info for somebody exterior the organisation. The external schema allows the application packages to see as much of the data as they require, whereas excluding other gadgets that aren't related to that application.

About Domains How to choose the best domain for your corporation. About our Reseller Program Resell hosting, domains and backups. This is seen as a much friendlier way to store data and one which represents the actual online transactions and financial privacy world. With the give consideration to illustration, discoverability and maintainability. This sort of database stores data on graph structures and uses nodes and edges to current and retailer the information.

Applications ought to solely be moved into this environment when they have been totally tested in pre-production. Security is nearly always an important concern within the production environment, as the data being used displays important data in current use by the organisation. Databases are pervasive in the world of internet growth, they are utilised for every thing from the simplest blogs to complicated user-oriented web sites.

Custom reports, search services, charts and advanced filtering can accommodate any database query shortly and effectively. With a web-based database you've the power to entry data base design your information wherever on the globe the place you've an Internet Connection. Database Design is the method of planning and creating an in depth and unique data model for a database.

The below serves as an introduction to the forms of databases so as to make the terminology as you enter the world of cell app growth somewhat simpler. The assessment standards provide the specs against which assessment judgements ought to be made. In most cases, knowledge could be inferred from the quality oltp of the performances, but in different instances, knowledge and understanding should be tested by way of questioning techniques. Where this is required, there might be assessment criteria to specify the usual required. UNIT STANDARD RANGE Spatial reference framework refers to projections, coordinate techniques and datums utilized in South Africa.

The businesses that may efficiently retailer, preserve and make sense of their data have a transparent competitive advantage, whereas people who let the circulate of information overwhelm them are destined to fall by the wayside. The depth of the Congo db coaching was explored from primary to superior, I felt it was a little an excessive quantity of to squeeze into 2 days however I did get publicity to all aspects of Congo db. I loved studying how to preserve the database, and how is the orgenazition of the information. Trainer provided some subject and assist it with plenty of exercises. Tamil was exceptionally affected person and really helpful in figuring out options to real wants. He was additionally very sincere about if he didn't know something from the highest of his head, which enabled us to rapidly leap on in the coaching and we didn't lose time.

In order to speak data and instructions, data corresponding to numbers, letters, characters, special image, sounds/phonics, and images are converted into computer-readable type . Once the processing of this data is complete it is converted into human-readable format, the processed data becomes meaningful information. The data becomes data and can be understood and used by humans for different functions. Based on the “books” database created in Activity 6.four, answer the next questions.

A computer program as a “set of directions fixed or saved in any method and which, when used immediately or not directly in a computer, directs its operation to bring a couple of result“. In this text, we’re not speaking about who owns data from an information protection perspective. We ‘re also usually are not actually focusing on how parties to an agreement can agree who will personal data. Generally speaking, parties to a contract can agree in whom copyright vests or to whom it is going to be assigned. The concern is often more about what has been agreed quite than an utility of copyright law.

The interface between the inner schema and the conceptual schema might be amended to mirror this, however there might be no need to change the external schema. This implies that any such change of physical data storage isn't transparent to customers and application applications. This approach removes the problem of bodily data dependence. SQL is a programming language used by almost all relational databases to question, manipulate, and define data, and to offer entry management.

The finest strategy is to determine the age of an individual by storing the date of birth and use a formula to calculate the age routinely by the system. They encompass a quantity of linked tables, each of which accommodates its personal set of columns and rows. A distributed database can reside on community servers on the internet, on corporate intranets or extranets, or on other firm networks. Stored on a storage system similar to a magnetic hard drive disk. The data administrator, also referred to as a database analyst, is answerable for managing and controlling the info in the organisations databases.

[the-starryknight]

why i believe “ship and let ship”

jotting down some thoughts & corralling some resources - i hope you will also take some time to educate yourself as well + form your own beliefs! let this be a starting point, perhaps, as it is for me too.

so, if you are sitting at your screen thinking, “[insert thing] is bad in real life, so doesn’t that mean [insert thing] fictional ship is bad too?” then this post might be for you. 

this comment is based on three assumptions: 

[insert thing] is bad

supporting things in fiction means that you support them in reality 

anyone has permission to police other people’s fiction

when we disagree on this comment, it seems like we might be disagreeing about #1, but actually, “ship and let ship” is about the latter two assumptions. that’s what I’ll continue on about.

Supporting Things in Fiction Does Not Mean I Support Them in Reality

other people have explored this in more detail that I will, so let me give you the TL;DR and a few links.

Fiction does not equal reality, but fiction is not removed from reality either. Creating and consuming fictional content does not mean we want to see this content play out in reality. 

Yes, it is true that fiction can impact reality (think of stereotypes, or the “Jaws effect”). However, we can (and should) consume content critically and recognize what is unacceptable in reality.  Fiction is a useful space to explore themes that we do not consider acceptable in real life because it is fictional.

a few posts to start with:

free to fanfic’s post

Shipping Discourse’s post

Write or Wrong: Should We Fight “Bad” Fiction

On Purity Culture

It Is Not My Job to Police Others’ Fiction

again, many people have said it before I have, so:

It is my job to moderate the content I consume. If I don’t like a certain ship or a certain topic, I will avoid that content. Disliking content does not equal shaming others for liking that content.

While I am free to dislike or disapprove of certain content (and I am free to publicly express that dislike), I am not free to shame those who do create, consume, or enjoy that content.

Here is the difference between two statements:

Dislike: “I don’t like X ship. It makes me uncomfortable. I want to avoid content about it.” These are acceptable statements. There are probably people who agree with you!

Shaming: “People who like X ship are wrong. Anyone who consumes X ship is morally corrupt.  Liking X ship means you like [insert thing] in real life.” These are shaming. 

some posts to start with:

“Ship and Let Ship” and “Racism is Bad” are not mutually exclusive

Ao3 is Not Your Safe Space

Ship Wars: Revenge of the Problematic

If you are anti dark-fic, you are anti survivor

Some Tools to Help You Moderate Your Content & Why You Should

Tumblr Savior

New X-Kit & X-Kit Mobile

Ao3 Savior��& Filter Me Ao3

Common tags & triggers 

And a quote from the response to The Three Laws of Fandom (DL;DR, SALS, KINKTOMATO) an essay published in 2016 (emphasis mine):

“Fandom is an opt-in environment. We choose to be here. We choose what we consume. There are always going to be things in fandom, as in real life, that we find distasteful.

But here’s the thing. That trope you love so much in fanfic? That’s someone else’s squick. Your OTP? Their NOTP.

If every single fandom consumer gets to point to something and say “I don’t like that, it’s not allowed to exist!” the entirety of fandom would disappear in a puff of smoke.

This is why doing your best to follow the Three Laws is important. They are designed to protect EVERYONE’s favourite creators. Including yours.”

Glossary

DL;DR (link is a Guardian article) = don’t like, don’t read; i.e., it’s up to you to decide what you want to consume

SALS = ship and let ship, or it’s not up to you to police my ships or I yours

KINKTOMATO = your kink is not my kink & that’s okay

Fandom Policing = i.e., controlling/judging what others post or create

Purity Culture = the idea that fiction must be morally pure to be acceptable

Dead Dove Do Not Eat = i’ve tagged and warned for content to the extent possible, if you choose to read this anyway, that is on you

Anti- / Anti-Shipper = generally defined as someone who is against a certain ship; in this context, someone who shames others for their ships/kinks/content

[youngerdrgrey]

screw it (when in doubt...) // a wildmoore fic

summary: Post 2x16 (“Rebirth”), as the search for Kate goes cold, Ryan goes home with Sophie to regroup. Sophie seeks a different sort of comfort than Ryan is prepared to offer. + read on ao3

notes: HAPPY WILDMOORE WEEK!!! I was going to post something else originally, but if the prompt for day one is emotions / tropes, then it feels like it's time to drop the angsty wildmoore late s2 moment that I never posted.

context: back in 2x16, Alice jogged some of Circe!Kate’s memories, but the only person that Circe!Kate recognized instantly was Sophie. While Circe!Kate and Sophie were alone, Circe!Kate sent Sophie to go get liquor from her desk drawer and took off into the night. This picks up right after.

🦇

Ryan’s used to keeping late hours by this point. But she normally has the Batsuit, not just a long sleeve crop-top to keep her warm.

Sophie doesn’t seem to mind. The frantic adrenaline of searching for Kate keeps her going. Sophie doesn’t even get back into the car after checking the old Kane house. She just paces from one end of her car to the other, while Ryan watches from her seat on the car’s hood.

“Sophie….” Ryan starts.

Sophie does another about-face. “We’re not done. There’s still the waffle stand—”

“At midnight?” Ryan deadpans.

At this point, not a single soul’s alive in the suburban neighborhood. What would make a waffle stand any different?

“She’s gone there before!” Sophie snaps. Ryan’s too tired to actually respond to the tone, but Sophie must have heard herself. She takes a sharp breath. “I’m sorry.”

Ryan nods as a way of accepting the apology. She slips off the hood of the car to stand in front of Sophie. Maybe if she physically cuts off the path, Sophie will stop moving. The last thing they need is for Sophie to work herself into a frenzy, or go charging after Roman.

Sophie begrudgingly stops opposite Ryan. It doesn’t give Ryan much, but it’s enough. Ryan’s driven from one end of Gotham to the other for Sophie tonight. But they have to stop at some point.

“Look, we don’t know who, or what, Kate’s looking for right now.” Ryan takes a second to think. Kate really could be at this waffle stand, or at the Cartwright barn, or anywhere that feels helpful. Ryan thinks aloud. “When I was poisoned, I went to Angelique. Both for answers and because Ange used to be my person. Maybe Kate would go to you.”

Sophie wavers. The street lights make her seem smaller. More vulnerable than she usually lets Ryan see. She puts a hard mask over her voice to make up for it. “Do you really believe that, or are you just trying to make me go home?”

Ryan tilts her head to the side. “Does it matter?” She scans Sophie’s posture — the balled fists, the sharp breaths. Ryan sighs while reaching for the car door. “We can regroup at yours, okay? If you come up with something better, then I promise we can go there too.”

She opens the passenger door and holds it out for Sophie. This is what they do. Deals and compromises have gotten them through months of working together. Give an inch one day, and give Ryan the keys to Sophie’s car another.

Sophie’s eyes squeeze shut, and Ryan smiles before Sophie gives in.

“Fine.”

🦇

So that’s how Ryan ends up walking into Sophie’s apartment for the first time. It is ridiculously nice. Firm proof that the Crows are making way too much money in that private security business. Ryan used to be homeless, but Sophie’s got an open plan condo with a balcony.

Sophie only flips on a few lights, so it’s a bit dim, with a slight stream of moonlight filtering in from the blinds. There’s nothing but a rumble of Gotham from outside. It feels a lot more intimate than the sort of sterile environment Ryan imagined Sophie would have.

Ryan lingers near the door frame to take in the space. Impersonal things by the door like a shoe rack, some coat hooks with basic, black Crows blazers hanging, and a welcome mat that’s most definitely from IKEA. Then there’s a bouquet of tigerlilies haphazardly on the counter outside the kitchen. While they don’t have to mean anything, the lesbian part of Ryan thinks of the movie ‘Imagine Me & You’ and figures Sophie bought them for Kate. Bought them to say, ‘remember me,’ and ‘I won’t remember anything else.’

Ryan spots an empty vase on the entrance side table and picks it up. The flowers will need water. She heads into the kitchen to her right. Sophie’s already opening the cabinets.

“You want a drink?” Sophie checks.

Ryan nods as she steps to the sink and flips the water on. She can feel the heat of Sophie’s eyes on her. It’s easier if Ryan watches the water come in. Focuses on doing what she can to keep things from getting worse. She flips the sink off, then goes to settle in the flowers.

The silence between them isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s also charged in a way that Ryan’s not sure what to do with. Is it just the night weighing on them? Or maybe she’s projecting after today? When Kate had turned around and recognized Sophie immediately, when they’d crossed the office like two reunited soulmates without a care in the world — it’s like a stone lodged in Ryan’s ribcage.

In the moment, Ryan’s shoulders cave in to compensate for it. Her breathing is harder, or not there at all. Her heart….

Ryan has no reason to react that way. Of course Kate would want Sophie back, just like she’ll probably want everything else back too. Ryan forces the thought away and goes back to checking out Sophie’s condo.

The flowers add a nice pop of color. The majority of the walls are covered in art. Ryan points to a bare spot. “Saving that for your rainbow flag? Lesbianism 101 says you need one.”

“I’ll add it to my to-do list,” Sophie quips. She holds up a bottle of wine, and Ryan nods to accept it. Wine means they’re not going back out. Good; Ryan really doesn’t have it in her to fight with Sophie about searching again. Sophie uncorks and fills their two wine glasses.

Ryan bypasses the dining table to flop down onto Sophie’s couch. The aches in her body call out to her. She stretches slightly. A little curl of her back that feels amazing and nearly draws a sound out of her. This hero shit is not for the weak.

Sophie balances the glasses and the bottle on her way over to the couch. Ryan grabs a coaster that just barely fits the wine bottle and slides it to the center of the coffee table. Sophie smiles her thanks before setting that down and handing Ryan a glass. The tradeoff is so smooth that Ryan frowns. She doesn’t remember when they got this good together.

Sophie lowers herself down on her end of the couch. Tugs her phone out of her back pocket and lays it on the table.

“Mary probably needs you,” Sophie says. It’s an out if Ryan wants one.

“Probably. But you got dibs.” Ryan sips her wine, and a surprised little moan comes from her at how good it is. Sophie grins.

“I don’t remember calling for it.”

Ryan shrugs. “Consider it a ‘thank you’ then. You babysat me on the island, and I…”

“Babysit me when Kate comes back?” Sophie finishes for her. Her voice sounds distant, like her mind’s not all here.

Ryan tilts her glass towards Sophie and stage-whispers, “I’m only in it for the wine.”

Sophie chuckles. “It’s good wine.” She sips hers. Holds it in her mouth a moment before swallowing. “Tyler bought it. He took a lot of things when he left, but he left these.”

“His loss,” Ryan says.

Sophie nods. She sits up straighter and makes a conscious effort to take in the room. “I’m living the dream, right? Beautiful apartment… beautiful woman… and me.”

She clearly doesn’t believe in any of that. Her heart’s not in it. Sophie downs her glass. Ryan grabs the bottle so that she can refill it the moment that Sophie pulls the glass from her lips.

Ryan hums while she pours. “As the beautiful woman in this scenario, I think you need to cut yourself some slack.”

“For what?”

“For having to start over, and doing it pretty well.” Ryan sets the bottle down as she talks. “When Ange and I broke up, I was a total disaster.”

Sophie tilts her head to the side. “Weren’t you in Blackgate by then?”

Ryan nods. “Yup, just Matrix dodging every single one of her calls.”

Sophie glances back down at her wine. “Yeah, well, Tyler never called. He cleaned his stuff out and mostly sent emails after that.”

“And Kate? The first time, I mean. Did you two… talk after Point Rock?”

Ryan admittedly doesn’t know much about what went down with Kate and Sophie. Mary’s told her enough — they were madly in love at the military academy, but when they got outed, Sophie chose to hide again. And Kate left. It’s not really feeling that different from where they are now.

Sophie shakes her head. “We didn’t talk again until I got kidnapped and she became Batwoman. It’s not a juicy story, I promise.”

“Right,” Ryan starts sarcastically, “because boring stories involve a kidnapping and a superhero origin story.”

Sophie laughs sarcastically. “There’s really not much to say, Ryan. Kate and I…. It’s like the timing is never right. Like something….” She drinks. Admits, “Something’s always off.”

Ryan knows that feeling. Her and Ange never fully click either. Not romantically. It always breaks. At least this time, Ange might actually get her life together. Maybe Kate will too.

Sophie cringes. “Shit, what am I saying? I’m supposed to be positive right now. Hopeful. Excited.” She tries putting some of that into her voice, but it comes out flat and false.

“You don’t have to be anything,” Ryan says. “Sophie Moore is enough.”

Sophie glances back to Ryan. Her eyes seem darker than before. It could be the lighting, or maybe just the sincerity of the conversation poking through. There’s something in her eyes though — something that makes Ryan’s heart skip a beat. Something warm beneath the pain and the weariness. But then Sophie blinks and sinks back against the couch. “Well, thank you… Ryan Wilder.”

Ryan sips to cover up her smile.

🦇

The red wine might have been a miscalculation. Sophie downs her first few glasses as a way to forget. Forget how Kate had immediately recognized her. Forget the mourning and the confusion and the months of grieving someone who’d been still here. But as she forgets, other feelings settle in. Other thoughts and realizations. Because someone was here throughout these last few months. Someone is still here, in fact, singing along softly to music from her cell phone.

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard this,” Ryan says. Her eyes are brighter than normal. Or maybe they’re just closer than normal.

Sophie swats at Ryan’s arm. “Don’t mock me! You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am.” Ryan’s knee bumps into Sophie’s. “But you have to relax. You know this is your place, right?”

“I am relaxed,” Sophie snaps. Ryan quirks a disbelieving eyebrow. Sophie huffs out, “I am.”

Ryan eyes Sophie’s tan blazer. “You still have your jacket on.”

Sophie sets her wine down and meets Ryan’s eye while pulling her blazer off. It’s a little hot and intense — her narrowed, challenging eyes as she loses a layer. They’re so much more level on a couch. Like a few weeks ago, when Ryan’s eyes had been soft on Sophie’s skin. Would her lips be soft? Her touch?

Sophie’s voice sounds a bit breathless. “Happy?”

Ryan maintains eye contact and takes off her own jacket. She tosses it behind her onto the floor. It’s meant to make Sophie laugh. Meant to defuse some of the growing tension. Instead, it draws Sophie’s eyes to Ryan’s arms under the very thin flannel crop.

Sophie reaches out to touch the flannel above Ryan’s tank top. “I can’t believe you work in this.” She plays with the collar between her fingers, and her knuckle brushes against Ryan’s partially exposed bra. Ryan wills her body not to react. Even as Sophie’s voice pitches lower. “Must be great for tips.”

The slight simmer in Sophie’s eyes burns into a raging fire as Ryan’s throat dries up.

Ryan clears her throat. “That and my dazzling personality.” She flashes Sophie a playful smile. “A few words, and they’re—” Sophie slides her hand up to Ryan’s neck. Ryan gulps. Sophie smirks.

“They’re what?” she teases. Ryan doesn’t think it’s fair that Sophie could seem so lost one moment and so totally in control the next. Sophie shouldn’t be able to turn the tables this quickly. This isn’t what they do. They fight. They bicker. They push. Yet here Sophie is, teasing her slight nails on the back of Ryan’s neck.

Ryan shivers, and Sophie has never looked hotter. This boldness isn’t exactly what Ryan envisioned when she told Sophie to get comfortable.

“Soph.” It’s a breathless warning, and Ryan should have said her whole name. Should have made sure to keep the boundaries in tact. “This night has been long enough.”

“It could get longer.”

Ryan smirks. “I’m sure it could. But it wouldn’t make you feel any better.”

Sophie chuckles, but she pulls her hand back into her own lap. “You’re selling yourself short there, Wilder.”

Ryan laughs, but her chest is on fire. Her voice shakes. “We are not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And Kate.” The last word gets a very dissatisfied groan from Sophie. Ryan talks over it. “She’ll be back by tomorrow. No way she’s staying away from all that.” She lets her eyes do a once-over to sell the teasing tone. Bounces her gaze right back to meet Sophie’s, but there’s a seriousness there that makes Ryan’s smile fracture. “We’ll find her.”

“And then what?” Sophie asks. “You….” She licks her lips, but it’s more of a nervous tick this time. A way to restart her thoughts rather than short-circuit Ryan’s. “If Kate comes back, what happens to you?”

Ryan doesn’t know. She admits, “I haven’t thought about it yet. I mostly just thought about how everyone else would handle it. Like Luke and Mary.”

“And me?”

Ryan nods.

Sophie doesn’t know what to feel; she knows what she’s supposed to, but she also….

Her hand finds Ryan’s on the couch. “You can’t leave.”

Ryan misunderstands. She says, “I’ll sleep right here; no worries.”

So Sophie scoots closer on the couch. “That’s not what I meant.”

Ryan can’t handle the intensity in Sophie’s eyes. Can’t handle being only a few breaths away from each other. They’ve barely been friends for five minutes, and now Ryan’s what? The rebound?

“You’ve felt it too, right?” Sophie’s hand is back on Ryan’s neck. She doesn’t wait for a response. Just softly guides Ryan to her lips. Into a quick kiss that Ryan doesn’t let herself enjoy. Doesn’t let herself think about.

Then again, if Sophie wants this, who is Ryan to judge? Some people want hugs for comfort, and others….

“Ryan, please.”

For a split second, Ryan looks as gutted as Sophie feels. A rebound like this isn’t even fun. It’s selfish and horrible, and more than Sophie should ask for. More than Ryan should give her. But Sophie Moore has never asked for anything. And now all she wants is this. And if the pulse in Ryan’s ears is anything to go by, then Ryan wants it too.

Ryan kisses Sophie this time. It’s soft and reassuring. Gentle. Ryan has never been gentle with Sophie before. She takes every opportunity to tell Sophie exactly what she’s doing wrong. She lives for it.

Sophie kisses back harder. Tries to tell Ryan with her body that she needs more.

Ryan catches on, and she shifts, disconnecting their lips so she can get off the couch and climb onto Sophie’s lap. Sophie’s breathless, and Ryan’s eyes look so concerned. Sophie surges forward to kiss Ryan again.

Sophie stops thinking after that. Stops remembering and questioning and doubting. She loses herself in Ryan’s lips, in the nip of teeth on her neck, and Ryan’s thigh between her legs, then Ryan’s fingers. It’s safe, and caring, and Ryan’s soft voice, reminding her, promising her, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” as Sophie comes undone.

🦇

🦇🦇

🦇🦇🦇

end note: plenty of emotions here, but the screw the pain away trope is what made me want to post this. (fun fact: this has been saved as 'untitled angst sex fic' for damn near a year. there is technically a part two, but it gets more emotional so idk if y'all want it lol. let me know.) whatcha think?

GO READ PART TWO

[asmallnerd]

Autistic Shoto Todoroki

The analysis

First off, I would like to say that this is purely a passion project. I am not a professional, I am an autistic teenager and I’m just very interested in this character because I heavily relate to him. I’ve collected some scenes from the manga and two specific things from the third light novel.

If you could boost this (if you’re interested that’d be great because while I really enjoy doing this it does take a lot of time! With that being said let’s dive into this and I hope you find this interesting!

Could Shoto Todoroki be autistic? Here is why I think he absolutely could.

Emotional perception

Let’s start with one of the most obvious things about his character. The emotional factor.

Shoto doesn’t emote in the way his peers do. Now, of course this also plays into the brooding mysterious guy archetype, but that’s not what we’re talking about.

Shoto’s face is typically relatively neutral, this is apparent from the moment we first meet him and while he does tend to express his emotions more clearly later in the story, it doesn’t ever really change. Something that immediately comes to mind is how in chapter 202 Iida asks if Shoto is alright because Iida noticed his expression change (because he knows him very well by this point). Ojiro points out that he did not notice this, since Shoto’s face barely changes at all.

We see Shoto in a lot of situations where his peers show excitement while his expression remans completely flat. This lack of emoting is something extremely common in people with autism. It’s not that they don’t have emotions or don’t express them at all, they just do it in a way that is hard to understand for people outside the spectrum or those who don’t know the autistic individual very well. They often struggle to understand what emotion they’re feeling in the first place and of course it’s hard to express feelings if you don’t know what you’re feeling.

Shoto doesn’t only show difficulty expressing his emotions but also recognizing those of other people. One of the best examples of this is the final exam arc, where he gets paired up with Yaoyorozu. In chapter 63 specifically, he doesn’t realize that Yaoyorozu is upset about something even though to someone else it’d probably have been obvious. Only when Aizawa points out that he should listen to her does he notice that he’s been doing something wrong. Shoto didn’t notice she was upset, and he didn’t notice he was being rude.

Emotions and emotional responses are continuously shown to be difficult for Shoto to handle. What he has absolutely no issues with, on the other hand, are academics. Of course, we can naturally assume that he’s been drilled to study hard from a very young age, but he is also extremely intelligent outside of the classroom. During the sports festival he is the first person shown to figure out that the obstacle course poses a lot more disadvantages to the people in the lead, during the practical exam, he is able to come up with a solid strategy very quickly.

During the training camp arc, him and Deku are the ones to come up with a strategy to protect Bakugo on the spot. He also doesn’t seem to consider his intelligence anything special. A lot of autistic people tend to assume that other people’s experiences align with their own. This can be seen when he seems surprised about Denki worrying that he’ll fail the written final exam. He asks how he could possibly fail if he’s been attending class, like the concept is entirely foreign to him (also there’s about a 0% chance this was a joke because this is Shoto we’re talking about.) He is very good at logical problem solving but emotional issues seem to stump him.

Literacy and verbal filters

Moving on, another big factor that Shoto seems to struggle with is his tendency to be overly literal and very blunt. There are several instances where he says things that we as readers as well as other characters perceive as insensitive. Once again, his interaction with Denki about the final exams (chapter 60) can be an example. He didn’t seem to think it was inappropriate and because this is Shoto, he didn’t ask to tease him either. Denki even points out that this was insensitive to say. A more subtle example is his conversation with Izuku in chapter 73, when they talk about Kota. His overall phrasing is fine, but he remains very blunt and direct and essentially ends up telling Izuku that his tendency to cut to people’s hearts with his words is annoying.

My personal favorite for an example can be found in chapter 83, in the hospital after the training camp, when the class visits Izuku, Shoto points out that “Of course Bakugo isn’t here.” Needless to say, he couldn’t possibly have timed this statement any worse. It wasn’t necessary in the first place, but he didn’t register it as something inappropriate to say.

One example of not him being unintentionally rude but just showing a different approach to telling the truth is seen in the third light novel. The fifth chapter revolves around the class preparing a birthday party for Iida. At one point, Sato asks if Iida has food allergies out of nowhere. Iida naturally asks why he needs to know this, Shoto is immediately ready to answer the question honestly, which would have spoiled the surprise, had Izuku not stepped in.

Autistic people often have trouble seeing whether something is or isn’t appropriate to say. Neurotypical people’s brains have a filtering process, it helps them be aware of possible responses to a statement. This filtering process is not functional or only limited in autistic people.

Shoto is also overly literal. In chapter 57, he gets upset over his friends continuously getting their hands hurt and refers to himself as “the hand crusher”. He is very serious about this and does not understand how Iida and Izuku could possibly think he was joking.

In chapter 164, he answers Gang Orca’s metaphoric question entirely seriously. During the interview training in chapter 241 he first seems confused by the made-up mission in the first place. He then proceeds to ask Mt Lady if she has a heart condition when she uses the phrase “My heart would burst out of my chest”. Finally, he appears genuinely horrified when she calls him a “lady killer” (“My smile will kill women..?!”)

In chapter 257, when Mineta claims school talk will “ruin the taste of the food”, Shoto simply says it tastes the same to him, to which Mineta proceeds to call him out for being overly literal.

Autistic people typically struggle to understand jokes and sarcasm, in fact, it’s often one of the main characteristics in people with an ASD diagnosis.

Overfamiliarity and Oversharing

Shoto’s tendency to overshare is another thing that is very typical foe ASD.

He doesn’t seem to understand that telling his life story to a classmate he’s barely interacted with prior is not exactly an appropriate thing to do. He repeats this later with All Might and, most notably, in chapter 165, when talking to the preschoolers during his provisional licensing course.

He also seems to have a slightly different perception of what makes someone friends than his classmates. As shown in chapter 241, to him, spending time with Bakugo during the licensing course is enough to deem them friends. Even when Bakugo points out that there is no correlation between the time spent together and friendship, he still doesn’t seem to understand.

Autistic people tend to become overly familiar and are easily attached to people if they perceive just one of their interactions as positive.

Attachment to inanimate things

This is something not really shown in the manga, but noteworthy, nonetheless. We know that Shoto, upon moving into the dorm building, remodeled his entire room from a modern, more western style room, into a traditional Japanese style one. The second chapter of the third novels goes into depth about why he did this. Shoto was entirely dumbstruck and thrown off by how different the room is from what he was used to. He knew the traditional Japanese rooms from home and his brain assumed that the dorms would be the same. He felt like the different style was wrong. He doesn’t like the unfamiliar flooring and even a small thing like the positioning of the light switch bother him.

He’s not comfortable in the unfamiliar environment, so he decides to change it.

Autistic people often struggle to adjust to changes. In environment and routine. They feel most comfortable in a well established and familiar routine, that includes the feel of their living space. A change of environment this drastic would be extremely stressful for someone on the spectrum.

Another thing that isn’t particularly obvious but does make sense when considered is that Shoto seems to have a comfort food (cold soba). While he’s never shown or stated to be a picky eater he does seem to opt for the same food whenever he gets the chance. Autistic people often have a very restricted diet due to sensory processing issues that apply to food textures, smells and taste.

Additional points

Shoto seems to be a little face blind. He doesn’t know who Kota is when Izuku mentions him, which seems to genuinely surprise Izuku. He also didn’t remember Inasa at all despite them having been at the same entrance exam.

In chapter 202 he’s shown completely zoning out. Of course, this can happen to anyone, I just found it interesting because it was shown so clearly, making it obvious that it was something we should pay attention to.

In the novel chapter in which he remodels his room it is also mentioned that the feeling of synthetic floor against his feet upsets him.

Shoto also seems relatively indifferent to temperature. Of course, that would correlate to his quirk as well, but it is also common for autistic people to struggle with temperature perception as well as other things that neurotypical people don’t struggle to recognize like hunger or thirst. This specifically applies to situations where you would typically end up in pain like, for example, frostbite. Shoto would obviously be used tot his but him showing no reaction at all to his body halfway freezing over was a little unnerving.

He also is shown to be relatively uninterested in certain social events like for example the room competition after the class moves into the dorms. He doesn’t want to be there; he’d rather go to sleep. In the beginning he also shows clear disinterest in making friends with his classmates. Both very typical things for people on the spectrum.

In chapter 244, Hawks asks Shoto a question in a way that seems to confuse him so much he can’t even form a coherent response. [Hawks: “Seemed like you were in trouble, Endeavor.” Endeavor: “Me? Not a chance.” Hawks: “But it seemed that way, didn’t it, Shoto?” Shoto: “Um..I…uh…”]

He probably didn’t register if Hawks actually wanted him to answer or not.

In chapter 64 he mistakes Yaoyorozu crying for her feeling sick, horribly misreading her expressions.

This last point is more personal than the rest, watching his reactions to Endeavor’s fight with the Nomu in chapter 190 made me think of the stress progression that often causes autistic shutdowns. Shoto was clearly becoming more and more stressed as he was watching and once it was over simply seemed to shut down. That is a very typical response to emotional distress or overstimulation in autistic people.

Final disclaimer

This is purely for my own entertainment; it is not meant to be offensive to anyone and I am not saying that this is absolutely what is going on. I’m simply elaborating on a theory/headcanon that I have. That being said, if you have questions feel free to drop them in the ask box, I’d be thrilled!

[derireo-galge]

My world | 4,1k | yoonmin✍🏼

Jimin's ex husband passes leaving 9 kids & 4 ex spouses behind. Jm is 5th among them. One day a social worker tells him he's eligible to adopt the youngest child. None of the others are fit to take them so he decides to try and do his best.

[ sfw, past angst, soft yoonmin, happy ending ]

Yoonmin visuals:

1. Jimin

There are those types of streets in any city, filled with skyscrapers and strict lines.

And there are also others. Those, other type of streets are quaint, chipped at the edges, with buildings not very tall and not all that new.

But there's a certain mentality people that live or work there have.

There's a nice little community, understanding and full of artistry and uniqueness. 

That's what Jimin believed in.

And that kind of street was exactly where Jimin lived and worked.

He found the place several years ago and having looked at the small neighbouring businesses and taken notes of infrastructure he decided to settle there.

His life story might not be that interesting, he knew.

He believed he came from the privileged environment.

His parents owned their own businesses and he never really lacked anything material. But living a luxury life abiding by the plan that has been designed for you wasn't for him.

He wanted to connect his life with his first love.

Art.

He loved everything he ever tried, every direction was fascinating for him. And having recognized that his painting was something not only him but other people enjoyed he was deretmingly set on being an artist in life and paint to support himself.

His parents would never agree to that. They've always been against something that wouldn't bring lots of wealth, well, in their opinion.

Jimin wouldn't let them have it easy.

He tried running away, getting in trouble, failed courses and sold off expensive belongings to buy art supplies.

Nothing seemed to have been working. Until he received a sudden proposal from them.

***

- A marriage??

He was standing in a fancy dining room, full of meaningless interior details (branches in a pot? That's some art there). The news felt like thunder booming right above his head.

- Only for a year, Jimin. We need that connection right now. After that term you can divorce and we won't oppose to your chosen way of living.

Distaste for his craft sounded clear as a day. But this time they needed something they couldn't just take from him.

- I don't even know them, mother! Why me? Jihyun-ah is of age too.

He knew he hit a sore spot there.

His younger brother managed to get a well paid job outside their parent's companies and almost totally cut ties with them, claiming he has his own life to live.

Having seen the way they treated Jimin he put blood, sweat and tears into getting away as thoroughly as he could. Last time he's seen his baby brother was over a year ago.

Jihyun succeeded. It was Jimin, who was the fool that still helped out people who maybe didn't deserve his kindness at all.

- Listen, it's the least you could do for us, for providing for you, for…

The young man put his best listening filter on and mulled things over.

It's not real. A fake marriage just for connections abroad.

It's a year if his life and instead he gets the rest of what is fated for him in peace with his love.

Don't get him wrong, he was truly grateful for living a comfortable life, despite the lack of emotional element. Sometimes he'd think he was exaggerating and he should listen to everything his parents say and do everything they asked.

He used to think that way.

Until he met his best and only friend. That's how he got help in learning his self worth.

But he also knew how to compromise.

Eventually, he agreed.

***

Jimin moved the curtain and situated his freshly finished painting on the windowsill.

His eyes were tired and he was feeling dizzy. He was so immersed in the process he skipped drinking even plain water.

He went for his stack of mineral water and hastily took a few gulps. 

The feeling was almost as amazing as one he got after finishing his works.

He felt pleasantly exhausted, like all the negative energy accumulated in his body overtime splashed out on canvas whilst creating something beautiful.

He sighed. He was done for the day and could do whatever he wanted.

Jimin threw his beige plaid shirt over the black turtleneck and left it unbuttoned. Brushing his hair with his fingers he deemed himself ready and petted his cat Dean before exiting the door.

He was anticipating a pleasant evening strolling the streets and eating somewhere cozy. Putting his lofi spoty playlist on he went down the old set of stairs.

2. Yoongi

He was running out of time. For real. 

He's been getting this feeling all his teens and college years - that he's running out of time, he has to work harder, more efficiently, do everything possible to reach the goals he set and then some more.

Those have been some dark years for sure.

His only carer - Moonbyul - did everything she could so he could live comfortably and have everything he needed. He ended up in the orphanage at a really young age of two.

Both his parents divorced just after he was born and he's been passed between them for a while with their shared custody. But then they both remarried and started their own respective families. And none of them wanted to drag the past into their new beginnings.

Luckily he had an aunt who always wanted to have a child. But a sickness she withstood in her childhood left her infertile.

She was preparing to adopt anyway when she heard the horrendous news - her younger sister was moving abroad for good to have a happily ever after...without her first child.

Maybe his own lifestory inspired Yoongi to become a social worker. 

He graduated with good marks and decided to choose the easiest route - work for the government.

All throughout his training and then first years on the job he witnessed many things, awful places, woe, irresponsibility and misfortune.

But there has been so much good as well. Families reuniting, finding each other, building things from the very start. Witnessed so much love a parent or a carer can give to a child and vice versa.

That's why despite it being sometimes a heartbreaking job it was also rewarding. Today was his first day in a department of international adoption and descent.

He's been taking additional courses in international law and believed it can become another area he can go a lot of good in.

The new case he received didn't seem to be complicated at first.

An elderly gentleman, resident of the United Kingdom recently passed away. His ex-spouses were offered and accepted custody of his children, all except one.

There were nine children and five ex-spouses, no current one. Child services deemed the families of first four financially stable enough for two children each. They were all residents as well. That left one child, the youngest.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows a little, seeing the familiar Korean name - Moonbin.

It was a child out of wedlock, but with a parental certificate in place. 

Birth mother was a resident of a completely different country and she was of Korean descent. Sadly, she passed away not far after giving birth.

The child services, having looked at the matters proposed for the fifth spouse to gain custodian rights, even though they lived abroad - to be exact, here. It was advised as a better option for a child. Hence why the case landed on Yoongi's desk.

He looked through the personal records. Park Jimin had his marital status for a year, then came a mutual divorce. No children were adopted during the marriage and the young man's records were clean.

The department would be suggesting adoption more because of his family's money and status, but he did have a stable income on his own.

The next step would be talking with the potential foster and adoptive parent.

The information was confidential so he decided to visit him at his registered address.

Yoongi looked at his watch. His shift was coming to an end but why putting off for tomorrow something that can be done today?

He put the address in his maps app and saw it wasn't that far away from his place of work, considering the size of the city. If he walked he would probably be there in half an hour.

3. Jimin and Yoongi

Yoongi didn't remember the last time he has been in this part of the city.

They were old avenues weirdly merged with newly built office towers.

He turned to the street that had last century's houses, beautifully painted, adorned with old-fashioned banners with names of small family businesses.

He has been walking around, checking his app and looking for the numbers on the houses when he accidentally bumped at someone, dropping the folder with his case papers on the pavement. He rushed to crouch and pick them up.

- Ah! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you!

A sweet voice reached the social worker's ears and he looked up from where he was gathering everything and almost dropped it all again.

There stood not just a pretty boy with astonishingly beautiful features, there stood Park Jimin himself.

The said young man bent to help Yoongi with his papers and saw a picture of himself.

- Is that... me? - He looked confused and then scared so the other reassured him:

- Yes, it's you, I've been looking for Park Jimin? I'm a social service officer from department of international adoption and descent, Min Yoongi. I've come to the address stated in the system to speak to you.

- Adoption? What? - Jimin looked just confused right then, to Yoongi's relief. - But I never dealt with adoption. Unless... it's about me? - he chuckled cutely, eyes still on the other's face, wary.

- Not regarding you as a child, no, - said the officer with what he hoped a reassuring smile.

Park Jimin, being just a couple of years younger than him, didn't look his age, somehow the glow of the evening sun was making his features more youthful.

- Am I in trouble, officer, - he tried to joke but as he was fiddling with the long sleeves of his sweater it was clear he was nervous.

- I'm sorry, - he said, - That was really lame of me and you're on duty.

- Already not, but I would really like to proceed with this today. You have nothing to worry about. Is there a place where you would be comfortable to talk?

Jimin looked around and sighed. The park wasn't private enough and his home wouldn't be an option he'd be completely comfortable with.

- It requires to be private, right? We can go to my studio. It's not far, you were actually really close to finding me.

He pointed behind himself, at a two level stone house, painted pink and white.

As they approached the building, documents finally back at Yoongi's hands, he saw a banner "Serendipity. Art studio."

- This is a beautiful name, - Yoongi uttered, looking at closed blinds on the windows of the studio, and then higher, at the second floor with colourful curtains and flower pots. The glass was decorated with sticker designs.

- Thank you, - Jimin's smile was less hesitant as he was unlocking the front door. - Please come in. There's a couch and a table where we can settle comfortably.

Yoongi was trying not to open his mouth as he was looking everywhere he could. The walls were covered in paintings, shelves with art supplies were nicely merged with flowerpot stands.

And overall everything looked, for the lack of a better word, artsy, interesting, beautiful.

- Would you like a drink? - Jimin offered and Yoongi politely declined.

- Just want to lay everything in front of you as soon as possible.

Jimin nodded and listened with wide open eyes, then with a hand covering his mouth. His eyes were glistening with a range of emotions but he kept calm until Yoongi finished telling him everything he had to know.

- But why not anyone in that country? Because of her grandmother or something like that?

- Yes, she's eligible for descent. And because the best possible carer for her - which would be you - lives here.

- I see, - Jimin chewed on his lower lip. The news were astonishing.

Surely he and his ex arranged spouse weren't in contact but he was sad to learn about his passing.

A little amused about the other children, but not surprised - the other families had similar income and amount of their own kids to deal with on top of newly added ones.

And now, somehow, this man thought he was capable of caring for a child too.

He considered having children in the future but not that soon.

Then he remembered his nana telling him, that it's children who come to them, not the other way around.

And maybe it's the universe sending an angel his way.

- This is a lot to take in, Yoongi-ssi, - Jimin rubbed his face with both palms, looking a little lost.

- Take your time. You could just foster for a while before someone proceeds with adoption. You could not do anything at all.

It's your decision that you don't have to make now. But hopefully soon. Because the amount of paperwork that needs to be in order is huge and the sooner I start the better. Especially knowing it's an international enquiry.

- Okay, okay, - the young man nodded, eyeing all the paperwork spread on the table, - Definitely not fostering to then just pass her further. I'm no specialist but I don't think it's good for the kid.

- I'd say it's your decision, again. But personally yeah, I'd either not do anything or proceed with adoption, having thought everything through.

- Can I have time to think?

Yoongi nodded assuringly.

He was gathering papers and forms for Jimin to fill out at home, putting them into two separate clear folders - depending on his decision he'd have to complete one of them.

Or fill out a simple form if he chooses not to have anything to do with the kid but something inside the officer was telling him, it's the beginning of a long story with a happy ending.

***

Jimin was nervous.

It was a weird mixture of good kind of anticipation - he now saw something else instead of the future he painted to himself last week - and dread.

He could vividly imagine his parents' reaction to the news and long fruitless talks where he argues: there are no stranger kids.

You can let a child inside your heart no matter where they came from.

Blood or not, children are better off with parents, even if it's a single dad that fits all required criteria.

After all, no services could measure Love and the unique Bond they have.

And Jimin already started feeling something unraveling inside his heart: it was working to expand in his chest, to make room for Moonbin.

He shared the news and all his thoughts to Tae and while the other was adamant of not wanting children for himself he was ready to support any decision his best friend would make.

He did add that he'd be the coolest uncle and that made Jimin even more secure in his reasoning.

His parents, well. They will have to live with the fact that he had his own life.

He spent all of the last night deep in his accounting books, bank records and savings. Researched the prices for everything, closest nurseries, child benefits and living standards.

It seemed like the technical side of the matter was well covered.

His decision... he felt it was right.

So when he walked into Min Yoongi's office he had red rimmed eyes, disheveled hair and a smile on his face.

Yoongi looked at his face and immediately read it like a book. It was a firm yes.

4. Moonbin

Jimin has lost count how many times he met up with Yoongi for the last half a year.

First it was just him dragging piles and piles of paperwork to the elder's office from various places and government bureaus - about his income, about his property, his education, registry as an entrepreneur, medical records, police records, bank statements…

The younger never thought it was possible for a person to leave such a big paper trail.

It all seemed a bit bizarre to him while Yoongi wasn't phased. He probably dealt with mountains of papers every day.

Jimin watched him working efficiently, mesmerized by his lovely face, strict brows creased in concentration, strands of hair falling on his forehead.

After papers were in order they started meeting up in the youngers studio.

Not that it was a plan, but once the younger called Yoongi's office to confirm one of the requirements for a size of a nursery room and admitted he had no clue what he was doing.

The officer came that evening and saw Jimin in a headband and overalls splashed with various paints.

He looked so cute and adorable, lips in a pout and cheeks puffed. Yoongi blushed with every look on him. He liked how Jimin was independent and strong willed. And very attractive

Jimin invited the elder upstairs to have a look at Moonbin's future room.

He was moving gracefully, strong hands holding the brush, dainty fingers covered in colours.

Yoongi was impressed.

The smaller room that was on the plan of the building was just a square on a piece of paper to him until he saw with his own eyes how Jimin turned it into something else entirely, breathing life into the grey walls in forms of painted plants and clouds and rainbows.

He watched the younger paint the walls with care and excitement that was familiar to him. He's seen many parents who were exactly like this. 

He was more and more sure every day that they will make a beautiful family.

He was telling the younger about the standard sizes for the child's furniture and sleeping place, simultaneously writing notes so Jimin can use them as a guide later.

- Will you buy everything new? - he asked. Jimin stopped to mix another colour and smiled brightly.

- Depends. Is it required that everything is new? If not I'll put some pieces together myself, I have lots of materials for it.

- You surely can, - said Yoongi and sighed, having the younger a small smile.

He had a good feeling about this.

***

By the time Moonbin arrived and the date of her and Jimin's meeting was near he was a nervous mess.

He was pacing around the room, putting clean clothes, brand new and passed on alike, on the wardrobe shelves while Yoongi was sitting with Taehyung, answering the avalanche of questions.

It was almost time to go so Tae just all but kicked Jimin out with advice to walk and chill a bit.

Yoongi was chuckling at the younger's affronted expression but offered some encouraging words.

- She knows you a little already, - he said, - She is shown your pictures often. You won't be a total stranger. It's amazing how a two year old who can't say much can tell you from many photos already.

- It is. Thank you for everything you've done for me, Yoongi-ssi. - He looked at him mischievously, - Yoongi-hyung?

The officer chuckled.

- Fine! We will still see each other often. Moonbin has to attend Korean classes until she knows the language at a level where she can be accepted in nursery. +

The language centre is in the building I work in, so there's a high chance we meet. Or you can come anytime for any questions.

- Already planning our meetings, I see, - Jimin replied sassily.

They both laughed.

Yoongi liked his personality a lot. It was always easy and fun to talk to him.

Moonbin was in good hands. He felt accomplished.

He led Jimin to the playroom and heard a quiet gasp.

The artist had hands on the sides of his face, eyes open wide and trained on one of the children playing with some toys, talking with one of the social workers.

He almost physically felt his whole being focus on this tiny human in a pretty suit and with most adorable pigtails.

- Ready, Jimin-ah?

The young man nodded silently, stretching his hand to squeeze Yoongi's in a gesture of gratitude, and moved to walk inside.

Yoongi saw how the little girl recognized him. They were both standing on different sides of the room, hesitant.

But both were smiling.

He blinked away tears.

Every time all the hard work was worth moments like this. Now if everything goes well, Moonbin can stay with Jimin permanently after a month of frequent visits.

He looked at the younger’s face who just emerged from the playroom. His eyes were wet but the smile was so dazzling it could rival the sun.

Yes, these were the moments he lived for.

5. Moonbin, Jimin and Yoongi

Yoongi was at Jimin's place again. He was on the couch with Moonbin sitting next to him, turning pages of a bright colourful book.

It's been several months since she attended classes and she could speak a little, not different from most children her age.

Yoongi was a frequent guest in a small flat above Serendipity art studio.

First he was there with checkups or to help Jimin with some things. Then the younger offered him to stay with them longer.

Moonbin too got used to hanging out with uncle Yoonie.

She was first to run and greet him, immediately chatting and showing him all new toys, drawings and clothes she liked the most.

Yoongi was totally wrapped around her little finger just like her dad.

If spending time with Jimin before, exchanging playful banter and easily talking about everything that was on their tongues was nice, this was even better.

Jimin and Moonbin, both charming, both fit like two pieces of puzzle, were a force of nature.

The case was closed and Yoongi didn't feel guilty for spending time with a new family. They would take walks in the evening on weekdays or go somewhere on Sundays.

Jimin didn't have that many people to support him besides his hyung and Tae so Yoongi suggested they meet with his aunt.

Moonbyul was ecstatic to see and spend time with a toddler again. 

And it was nice for a child to have more people to talk and play with.

It was great to have another set of hands to help and a good word of advice.

One Sunday they came over to her place again but to their confusion she asked if she could spend the day with her alone.

- I don't mind but what do we do now?

Yoongi easily figured out the maneuver and suggested they go somewhere together.

- We hardly ever get the chance to do something on our own. Let's have coffee? Just you and me?

***

Jimin thought all they will be doing is talking about Moonbin but it wasn't the case. He was having the time of his life with Yoongi sharing stories from his and his friends' lives, from work and his university days.

His hyung was so easy to talk to, so easy to like. He was pretty and mature, with a clear talent for storytelling. He was a warm person, a supportive friend and a reliable partner.

Jimin would be lying if he said he hasn't imagined all three of them as a family at least five times a week.

- Hyung? - he asked tentatively when he felt a lull in the conversation, - Is this a date?

Yoongi lifted his eyes from the cup and saw Jimin's reddened cheeks, and shy posture. He dropped his gaze back down.

- I'd like it to be. If that's what you want too.

He felt the other's hand touching his own.

- I'd like that very much, hyung.

Jimin was smiling with giddiness.

- I know you have a lot on your plate, Jimin-ah, but we could go slow?

Truly, that was just perfect.

- Yeah, - the younger exhaled, - Let's do that.

As they were standing outside the cafe on the quiet street Jimin suddenly asked:

- Hyung, just technically, how slow is slow?

Yoongi laughed out loud. Jimin was unbelievable. With all the little habits and love for plants and talent for painting. Yoongi was totally gone for him.

He quickly kissed him on the cheek and pulled him into a side hug.

- Let's find out for ourselves, shall we?

~the end~

Bonus

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 06

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, music snob!Remus,  Author’s notes: song used: Come Together by The Beatles

BTW: I always try to use little to no physical descriptions for the reader insert but I did add that the reader has some sort of hair. I didn't mention hair texture or length (Sorry if ur bald). My taller readers, I only mentioned that you were shorter than Remus (no height was given)

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6: ABBA vs. The Beatles 

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

“Merlin’s beard! Binns is a sadist; torturing students must be his only pastime,” James yawned, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

Nothing could ever compare to the History of Magic. Today, lessons were dreadful and muddy. Professor Binns’ monotone voice filtered throughout the class, rambling on and on about various dates in history. Hardly anyone paid attention before he started calling on students. Annoyed, Binns would continue to reiterate his inquiry until the student(s) got the correct answer, no matter how long it took.

A sadist indeed.

Although Binns wasn’t the sole reason why the class was pathetic, but rather the lack of any practical work was simply a joke. The class only reminded Y/N of her short time in public school. Geometry? Utterly useless for any daily life interactions. To make matters worse, Binns surprised the class with a pop-quiz and two chapters of reading. Luckily, he had an ounce of mercy in his ghostly body and dismissed the class early for lunch.

James continued, “I would rather fight a dragon than — Woah! Your hair! “

She glanced to look at herself through the reflection in James’ glasses. Her hair, which originally was emerald green, was now turning into a golden yellow. The different colours clashed together boldly.

“You look like the banner for the Holyhead Harpies,” Peter said, striding up to James’ side.

“The Holyhead Harpies,” James said dreamily, “They’re probably one of my favourite teams.

Remus, who had been trailing behind Peter jumps in, “You only like them because they’re all women, you wanker.” He turns to Peter, his hand shooting up to the side of his head, massaging small circles into his temples, “Why’d you get him going?”

James became insufferable whenever someone or something mentioned Quidditch. Not only would he boast about his abilities as a Chaser, but he seemingly was a never-ending encyclopedia about Quidditch. It only worsened as November neared, the start of the new Quidditch season was approaching.

One time Y/N found herself stuck listening to him babble about Ireland winning the world cup for about thirty minutes. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, though. Nobody listened to his rants and he could hardly contain his excitement. How could she tell him she wasn’t interested?    

A monstrous smirk etched its way onto his face, “Caught me.”

“Be anymore of a predator would ya, Prongs?”

“Hey! That’s not the only reason why I like them. Did you forget their victory in 1953 against the Heidelberg Harriers? Their strategy was blood-fucking-brilliant. They’re legendary! My father was there to see it in person. Lucky bastard. He told me…”

His voice fades into the background as Y/N catches Remus’ eyes. A glint of mischief shined through them before he forced a fake pitiful smile. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to her before looping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, discreetly leaving James’ side and out of the classroom.

That sly, slippery bastard.  

"— and did I mention that their seeker was one of the most sought out —”

“Wait, James.”

He abruptly pauses, waiting patiently for her to continue. She leads them out into the corridor and towards the great hall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off like that, but when is my hair going back to normal?”

Y/N instantly regretted mentioning her hair. There was no trace of a smile on James. His shoulders slumped a bit and his walking even staggered. “Godric, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I thought it would have returned back to normal by now. I’ve been creating reversal spells — even started asking Moony to help.”

“Moony?”

“Remus.”

“Another one of your nicknames?”

“It’s not a nickname! It’s a brotherhood — a pack!”

“Oh, sorry Prongs,” she drawled, a sarcastic smile on her face, “If I didn’t know you I would assume you were an asshole.”

“What? How?!”

“You go around calling yourself a marauder, the king of Quidditch and now Prongs. Seems pretty assholely.”

James’ mouth opens before closing again, repeating the process several times.

“Plus, you pull silly pranks every day.”

He chuckles, “Oi! You helped us with that itching idea!”

Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, “Touché.”

To this, James shakes his head, directing the conversation back to the Holyhead Harpies. Inwardly, Y/N wanted to whack him with a broomstick.

They were among the first students to reach the Great Hall, aside from students who had a free or were excused early by Professor Binns. None of the girls were there yet. Unfortunately, Marlene was held back by Binns, so Y/N was left to sit beside James who sat opposite to Remus, Peter and Sirius.

She had been trying her best to avoid Sirius whenever she could. It was clear he didn’t like her. He never laughed whenever she made a joke, he hardly noticed her, he never praised her, even if she tried to compliment him. He was just rude for no apparent reason. The rest of the marauders and girls knew this, although they preferred not to comment about the obvious, strained relationship (which they didn’t even know the reason for. Granted, Y/N wasn't quite sure herself. Was it the rejection, he just didn't like her or is just an ass?).

Although, ignoring and avoiding him proved to be extremely challenging. Y/N was glued to Lily’s hip ever since the Sorting Ceremony. It also didn’t help that if you were with one marauder, another one was sure to follow. She and James started to spend more time with each other, and by extension, she was obligated to be around at least one other marauder. With the addition of study sessions with Remus, it was inevitable.

Surprisingly, Sirius hadn’t made any snarky remarks, excluding dirty looks, he was being… nice — nicer to her. The action was a stark contrast from his previous behaviour and she speculated a few reasons why:

Most likely, James or Lily, she assumed the former, said something to him. Since his little spat with James at breakfast a few weeks ago, Sirius was tight-lipped ever since.

Maybe he was done being a prick, deciding to stop by himself after realizing he was a prick.

Went through something personal, it stopped, and his behaviour improved.

Minutes after the bell rang, students began to trickle in for lunch. The comfortable chatter rose as Y/N finished eating an apple. Everyone seemed pleased when James’ Quidditch lecture was interrupted as hundreds of owls streamed in, packages and letters dropping into the laps of students. She hadn’t expected anything considering her owl, Celeste, didn’t drop anything off since the first week of October. However, today she fluttered down between the bread and fruit bowls, dropping off several letters and a small parcel onto Y/N’s plate, pecking at the bread crumbs on the table. She tore the letter open, inside it said:

Dear Y/N,  

Are you still having a hard time with Charms? If so, perhaps I find some textbooks and send them over.  

Don’t slack off this year. Send me a letter whenever you have the chance. (Make sure to tell Celeste to be quieter next time. You know I can, and never will get used to the owls.)  

Mom  

Her mother finally wrote to her. A sense of joy flooded her body as she placed the letter back down on the oak table. A part of her wondered if Celeste was dropping off her letters to the wrong house, the one back in Toronto as her mother never wrote back. She opened the next letter, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl:

October 19, 1975  

Y/N! I thought you replaced me with one of your brits, but a false alarm, your letters just take a while to arrive. Must be tiring for Celeste to travel to and from Scotland then America and back. You know, whenever people see her fly in, they still recognize her.  

Are you doing anything for Halloween? We’re throwing another dance. Going to be alone this year now that I can’t force you to come. I guess I’ll just watch half the school dry hump each other while I smuggle in firewhiskey.

How’s it going over there? I heard from a few students, even read in the papers about the war. It’s getting pretty crazy over here. Teachers have been meeting and trying to prevent students and parents from losing their shit. My mom has been worried too, writing to me like a lunatic and I’m not even in the UK. The MACUSA have been keeping quiet but they were caught having meetings with counsellors from the Ministry of Magic. Even heard that Jenkins is stepping down. If it keeps getting out of hand here, I can’t imagine what it must be like at Hogwarts. I truly thought the war was dying down, I was wrong. Keep your wand close. Surely, you’ll get away with a hex or two.

Until next time

Matthew G.  

So engrossed in her new environment, her old life slipped to the back of her mind. There was a detachment from her reality compared to the one at home. A pang of guilt hit her, swallowing her up from the inside out until another pang hit, loneliness. If she easily forgot everyone, would anyone remember her? None of her old friends, apart from Matthew, had made a move to contact her since she left.

Often thinking about writing them first, she had to remind herself if they wanted to, they would. Especially with the knowledge that people still recognized Celeste.

Was she forgettable and if so, was it karma for forgetting too?

It put a mechanical vice grip on her heart, applying just enough pressure to be a constant reminder. With every beat, it tightened more and more.

Looking around the table, she saw her peers huddle in groups, familiar laughter ringing throughout. So noisy, so taunting. She may have been friends with Lily, Dorcas, James or even Marlene, but they had their own friends. Friendships that had years to develop before she came. She had only known them for less than two months.

Forgettable.

How hilarious, she thought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice cooed into her ear, “Are you okay?”

She hummed back absentmindedly.

James wore a concerned expression, his eyes knitted together, one raised higher than the other like it always does when he was worried. The look he shot her suggested he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press; instead opting to stir the conversation. “So, who wrote to you?”

“A friend and my mom —”

A snort so loud that it caused the rest of the marauders, random onlookers and even Lily (who had a look of pure disgust on her face) turned towards them. “What did you say?”

“I got a few letters?”

“No!” He bellowed, “Who sent you them?”

“My friend and my mom —”

Nearly choking on his sandwich, James clutched his stomach laughing. Laughing so hard he has to grip the table to prevent falling off the hall bench. "Haha! Mom?! MOM?” He mocked in a poor American accent, “What the fuck is mom? It’s MUM. Bollocks!”

“We say vitamin.”

“It’s VIT-A-MIN! Who says VIGHT-A-MIN?” Without a pause, James presses his entire body onto her shoulder, smushing her before grabbing the letter her mother sent her. His eyes scanned across the pages before hitting a certain word. “Back home? Maple trees? Where did you use to live exactly?”

“Canada.”

“Canada?! You don’t mean those snowy gits?” At this, Peter and Remus snort under their breaths. Even Lily had to force down a smile.

Staring deadpanned at him, in an unamused voice, “Really?”

“You are a bundle of surprises! I thought you lived… I’m not sure. I assumed somewhere like New Hork.”

“York,” Lily corrects.

“Tomato, tomato,” he jokes, playfully batting his eyes at Lily before biting into his sandwich, “You do live in London, right?”

“Right.”

James takes a moment, letting the conversation die down before he quickly glances at Y/N again. An undecipherable expression crosses his face before it’s promptly replaced with elation, “I take back anything negative I’ve said about Canada. They have an amazing Quidditch rooster. Have you gone to any of their games?”

A low grumble of sighs follows at the mention of Quidditch from James. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus shake his head and sighed dejectedly.

“Nah, I’m a New-Maj, remember? My mom — “

“Mum —”

“ — sorry, Mum — hardly understands the wizarding world, let alone what Quidditch is.”

His eyes were wide, whimsical, as a hand flew to his chest dramatically, “Rubbish! Bloody ridiculous! You’ve never seen a real Quidditch game? One day, I swear I’ll bring you to one! Or you can bring me to Canada one day and we can watch a home game!”

As James continued to rant, Y/N’s mind slowly drifted back to the bitterness in her chest. Trying to distract herself, she borrowed Lily’s quill and a few sheets of parchment, scribbling down letters in response.

Mom,  

I’m fine with Charms, you don’t need to send anything. And don’t worry, I’ve been studying for my OWLs.  

Love you, write soon.

The next letter was addressed to Matthew:

Matty Matt,

Of course, I didn’t replace you… yet. 

Another dance? You would think the students’ protest last year would have influenced the professors this time. I guess it’s time for you to get wasted. I didn’t tell you last time but I think I’m going to a party. A friend of mine is throwing it and I know he’s going to force me to come no matter what. He briefly mentioned costumes and drinks. Plus, there’s going to be some kind of prank that I may or may have not been a part of? Sounds cool right?  

Yeah, I’d say it’s been bad up here. I don’t know much about what's going on outside of school, though. The professors are hiding it well. I didn’t even hear about Jenkins stepping down. Keep me updated.  

Until next time  

She sealed the letters before sending Celeste off again, “Be quieter when you drop off the letters, yeah?”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It must be her lucky day.

The ringing of the bell went off, signalling the end of class. Professor Flitwick asked the students to stay behind so he could hand out quizzes the students completed on Monday in preparation for their upcoming test on Growth and Reductor charms the following Tuesday.

It was never a good sign when a professor flips your test over to prevent other students from seeing their mark. Flipping it over at a downwards angle, Flitwick handed Y/N her quiz.

Turning it over nervously, a tight coil formed in the pit of her stomach. A large P was plastered on the top right corner in bold red ink. She studied hard for this too. Angrily, she shoved her work into her bag and left the class. This was the third poor she'd gotten in a row. She should have told her mother she needed those Charm books.

“I swear I’m going mad! Her brother is a complete cow! He even — are you listening?”

She looks at the girl beside her, Marlene. Her glossed over, doe eyes must have served as an answer before the blonde shook her head.

“Sorry, distracted,” she mumbles, before forcing out a fake-happy tone, “Continue your story! I wanna hear!”

“Hey,” Marlene says in a softer voice, “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instinctively. She felt bad spacing out during Marlene’s story but her mind was running through and under hoops. The last thing any fifth year student needed was to fall behind in their classes, let alone feeling like nobody cared about them.

At that moment, she wished she was wrapped away in red and gold blankets to wallow in her self-pity party, away from prying eyes. She could feel the burning sensations of tears building up.

Dammit.

Y/N looked out the window to her left. The sky was melting with the warm hues of reds and yellows while the other half was being slowly engulfed into a cloak of twilight. Even from here, she could feel the cool air seeping in from the windows making her tug on the sleeves of her robes.

She continued, “I’m just tired — been a long day. I’m going to take a nap before dinner. See you.”

Judging by the look on Marlene and Lily’s face, guilt riddles her body. They both look sympathetic. The pity only made Y/N feel disgusting. In all honesty, Y/N will care later. Right now wasn’t the time and she desperately needed some shut-eye.

Before she left the room, she overheard them talking.

“What’s up with her?”

“Dunno.”

Great.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Sleep did little to ease her thoughts.

The same uneasiness she felt on the train ride to Hogwarts settled deep into her bones again. She thought she was past this. The worrying about friends, missing home, feeling alone, failing class, stressing about her future. The rational part of her brain knew it was just one silly quiz (and old shitty friends), but knowing herself, if she were to continue to have this mindset, she would only fail in the end.

Dinner ended and Y/N belligerently climbed up the stairs towards the library to attend today’s study session. The Charms quiz threw her into a loop and it was better not to dwell on it, opting to rather use her time for something useful.

Her marks improved significantly since she attended her first session two weeks ago. The last couple of assignments and quizzes she handed in that she worked on during the groups were some of her best work, ever. Additionally, her ability to retain information was improving at astonishing rates and she found herself participating in lessons more often. Unfortunately, she started to doubt her abilities again.

There weren’t as many students as usual. Perhaps it was because of the Quidditch meeting for all teams tonight, or because nobody wanted to spend their time in a library Friday night. She assumed it was the latter.

Although, the same student with black hair from Slytherin was there; tucked away in his usual corner. He was always there. Whether it was the study sessions, another OWL or NEWT student or he simply just enjoyed the library, Y/N could always rely on him sitting there in his little nook.

In the far back, surrounded by tall bookshelves sat Remus. Another student, a first or second year, judging by their height, seemed to be asking him a question, rapidly writing down something on a piece of parchment whilst they walked away. Remus leaned back in the brown chair, his right leg was folded over the other as he stretched.

She spent over twelve hours minimum with Remus directly since the first session, minus the time he was around James and the girls. Perhaps she only started to notice afterwards but she swore Remus wasn’t around this much before. Now, he was everywhere.

In the past couple of weeks she’d gotten to know him, she made a mental list in her head of him:

1. Remus loves sweaters. They weren’t flashy, seemingly preferring to wear ones with small designs, stripes or a solid colour. He wore green the most. He also wore cardigans. Two, in particular, he wore the most; one was white and the other was a muted brown. They were big and hung off his loose frame, the pockets were often stuffed with books, rumpled parchment and his wand.

2. He’s a coffee addict. He drank it in the morning, the afternoon, at the study session and sometimes with meals at dinner. He loved to dump pounds of sugar, so if he only drank black coffee, it usually meant he was in a bad mood. James even joked that he became Sirius whenever he drank black coffee, because haha! Get it? It’s BLACK coffee!

3. He frequented the library whenever he wasn’t with the rest of the marauders. He enjoyed poetry, wrote post-it notes after post-it notes to annotate his favourite parts. He even slept there from time to time, not without having to persuade Pince to not give him detention.

As if Remus magically sensed her, he took a large inhale before he stopped stretching, opening his eyes to look at her. A small smile was plastered on each other’s faces. He stuck up a few fingers to wave at her, motioning her to come over.

“Hi Y/N. I thought you didn’t come on Fridays?”

“I don’t but I have a test, Charms, Tuesday.”

“Oh, well I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks for the offer, Professor Lupin, but just being down here will help me focus.”

A scarlet blush settled on his face at the mention of his tutoring. “Well come sit with me then.”

Pushing the chair out of the way, she sat down beside him, pulling out her cassette player and earbuds along with her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus staring at the player curiously.

“Do you want to listen?”

“If you don't mind. I didn’t know you could use these here.” Picking it up, he turned the rectangular device.

“If record players work here, why not this?”

She hands him an earbud, alongside a small collection of other tapes she had on hand.

“Choose whatever you want to listen to.”

Without much thought, he pressed the play button. The upbeat tune of Waterloo by ABBA trickled into their ears. Y/N bobbed her head up and down before the song was suddenly stopped.

A sour grimace sat on Remus’ face before their eyes met, his nose upturned slightly.

“Why’d you stop it?”

“I hate ABBA.”

“What!?”

“I just don’t like their cheesy disco-pop-esk sound. They sound generic and random words are thrown in when they don’t add to the song.”

“Jeez— never met anyone who hated them that much.”

A ghost of a smile appeared before he flicked through her collection of tapes. He picked up Abbey Road by The Beatles. Opening the player up, he slid out Waterloo. With a click and the press of a button, Come Together played.

“So you hate ABBA but not The Beatles? Benny and Bjorn said they were influenced by them!”

“Keyword: Influenced; which is just another word for a shitty knock-off version.”  

4. Remus Lupin is apparently a music snob.

“Well, I think both are good.”

“Respectfully, I disagree with you.”

“Whatever you say, professor.”  

"I've been thinking a bit, why did you come to Hogwarts? Why not just stay at your old school?"

The sudden switch of topics threw her into a loop. “Wasn’t by choice. My mom’s a doctor and got a position here. It was too good to turn down. But it’s not bad. There’s less wizarding laws.”

He nods his head, "I'm assuming you have dual citizenship?"

"Mhm."

About a half an hour passed as she sighed for the umpteenth time before putting down her quill. Her chair scraped back noisily as Y/N’s hand balled up into a tight fist, feeling her fingernails bite into her palm. She’d been flicking through her notes, the words all blended.

At this rate, if History of Magic didn’t exist, Charms would surely be her least favourite class.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

She was at a loss, this was the third time Remus had offered to help and he was persistent. She felt horrible that she was taking up his time to help her on a stupid Charms test.

He continued, “If you think bothering me is an issue, it’s not. I run the sessions on Friday. It’s my job.”

“Fine, but there has to be something I can do in return.”

“Hmm,” Remus pondered for a second, “How about this, I tutor you in Charms and in return you give me your Potions notes? I'm dreadful at it.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Before we start, is there anything in particular that you have questions on?”

Silently tapping on the quiz she received today, Remus snatched it and quickly scanned over her answers and Professor Flitwick’s notes.

“I see what happened. You know, the curriculum taught at Ilvermorny is different. That’s probably why you can’t understand some of this shit.” He cleared his throat, “So as we know, the growth charm increases the size of your intended target…”

His voice, like a light switch, changed instantly. Instead of his softer deep, raspier voice, it became commanding and steady. He never stumbled over his words and articulated his points elegantly. She found herself enraptured by him, understanding why he was in charge of the study groups.

Eventually, Remus takes a pause, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes. You know, you’re really good at this. No matter how much I asked Flitwick or even Lily I could never get it.”

A large blush bloomed on the apples of his cheeks before he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I’m not that good.”

“No time for modesty, Professor Lupin!”

“Okay, okay! So here, do you see what went wrong? There would be a reaction with those two spells if —”

A boy, small, most likely a second year, stood at the foot of the shared table holding a large red and gold book. His hair, dark ginger, similar to Lily’s, was cut short. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued to stare at the two.

“... Um, hi. You're Remus — right?”

“Yup. Did you need help with something?”

“Yes! I’m having trouble with the Transfiguration spell, beetle into button.”

A look of understanding passed through his face before Remus turns to look at her, “Duty calls. It’ll be quick.”

“Of course, take your time.”

It was not quick. Understandably, very few were successful at the ginger’s age to perform the spell, but thirty minutes passed and the second year still didn’t understand the basic concepts. No matter how many times Remus had reiterated his point differently, the boy couldn’t retain it.

“I just don’t get it.”

“You learned this last year, it's a quick revision. I’m not sure what part you’re talking about. Look, do not wiggle or twirl your wand left, direct it towards the right. You have to picture the spell in your head before saying the incantation.”

He guided the boy's hand steadily before performing the spell himself.

“I don’t understand!” The boy whined.

He sighed, “Then we keep trying —”

“It’s too hard. Why are they teaching this crap anyway?”

“Could you stop complaining?” He snapped, closing his eyes before he realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry about that. I’m… just tired. I can’t help you anymore, though. You should ask someone else,” Remus said brusquely, his eyes unnerving as he stared at the child. As a result, he yelped out a ‘thank you,’ rushing off in the opposite direction.

The muscles in his jaw tensed under the soft glow of the table lamps. There was a pale red tint rimming his eyes and he looked visibly paler than normal. Irritated, he bounced his knee rapidly, up and down, before looking out the large window beside them. The sky was mostly cloudy. Only the peak of the silvery moon appeared. A sliver was missing before it was fully complete.

He closed his eyes, before breathing in. His posture once stiffened, completely relaxed before a flimsy smile reappeared on his face, returning his attention to Y/N.

“Let’s continue, shall we?”

“If you’re tired we can stop.”

“No, s’okay. I’m fine — really.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, adding to her list:

5. Remus was always so hard to read.

[soulmate-game]

Okay, I’m not sure if what I was trying to say in my last post was said very well.

I completely understand the tagging situation from the First Wave with the DC fans. That’s discourse that is mostly solved and we can’t do anything about those who are forever gonna be bitter or lazy. I’m not talking about that stuff.

The stuff I want to prevent/limit is the hate that comes after our fandom deliberately. And yes, I know I can’t stop it. None of us can stop bitter, antagonistic people from being bitter and antagonistic. None of us can stop people who just want to be angry.

I’m not talking about stopping them, though.

I’m talking about what we can do to protect ourselves as creators and consumers in this fandom. As people who love and appreciate what the creations and people in this fandom have to offer. In simplistic form, I’m saying we need to learn how to shield ourselves from bullies. And there are methods we can use to make ourselves less of a target to the people who go after us, and methods to cut their attacks off short. None of these methods are fool-proof, but they will work to filter out a good majority of the shit we would otherwise be showered by, like a big umbrella against Assholery. Sure, the wind might still blow some in our face and we might splash in a puddle or two by accident, but at least we aren’t soaked.

So let me list the various things that can help you shield yourself from hate/harassment/antis who might just be out to get you.

1) leave the fandom.

The most effective, but least attractive method possible. This is limited to being a last ditch effort, if things have just gotten too hard to handle. I’m covering it first though, because we have to acknowledge that it is a viable method. If you feel trapped, hated, bullied, I’m sure all of us in this fandom would prefer you take a break and leave us for a while in the sake of your own health and safety then stay where you are miserable. This is less of a problem for us though, because mostly this option is gonna be for fandoms where the discourse and attacks are internal. Maribat is largely a peaceful and supportive/healthy environment once you’re inside our little bubble, the main discourse comes from outside in. So let’s focus on the main point of this post— how to keep our bubble from popping.

2) Make it apparent right away that you are Unapologetic.

Whenever you post content or are approached by someone about the topic of your fandom, don’t you DARE ever apologize for liking what you like or posting unproblematic content. You need to make it clear right off the bat that you are not gonna be swayed, bullied, or shamed out of your fandom. Stand with pride and make it clear, but don’t be verbose about it. A simple “Don’t like, don’t read” is classic but sometimes if you’re posting/talking during a more confrontational period of the fandom, you need to up your game to reflect that. The funny thing is, people can easily be intimidated by swearing if it isn’t directed at them or clearly antagonistic. If you’re swearing in a joking, casual or even in a manner that shows you’re not taking yourself too seriously, people will usually avoid picking fights with you. For this, my favorite lines to use on my work include;

“Don’t like, I don’t fucking care. I fell down the rabbit hole.”

“Don’t bother reading if you’re not into this, this shit bitch-slapped me and dragged me along on it’s adventure.”

“I’m addicted to this fandom, don’t bother trying to save me. If it bothers you, I don’t give a fuck. Save yourselves.”

3) Don’t approach or interact

Unless someone comes at you first, never try to persuade someone away from hating us. That just makes you a target in an empty field, for the vultures to surround and gang up on. If someone approaches you with provocative but not overly insulting or intelligent language— I.e; trying to start a fight, vague insults not always relating to the fandom itself, trying to insult your character/judgement— do not respond. Delete the message, block the account, and surround yourself with fluffy good stuff to forget the wanna-be harasser. These people are often not brave enough to outright start a fight, and want you to get defensive first so they know the weak points in your armor to exploit. Defensive statements declare your own insecurities, don’t get defensive. It gives them a way to win without having to defend themselves or feel vulnerable— it’s like exploiting type differences in Pokémon. You wait for an unfamiliar Pokémon to expose it’s type, then snipe it with the moves it’s weak to. Then, you have a near sure-fire win even with under leveled Pokémon on your team.

Don’t be a proud Infernape that gets sniped by a weak-ass level 5 Piplup. We’re strong, don’t show them the chinks in our armor.

4) Have a support network. Even if they don’t know they are your support network.

The fandom as a whole serves this purpose, and this is mostly gonna be a tactic you use when the discourse is inside the fandom, but there can be uses for this in discourse from outside the fandom as well. If someone tries to act like they like your story/art “but...” they passive aggressively state things they “would prefer” or they try to make it sound like you made stupid mistakes (a tactic to make you insecure about yourself) instead of kindly pointing out errors or offering constructive criticism (ex: “you know you put your trigger list somewhere where it’s useless right? Love your story though.)—THESE ARE ALL PROVOCATIONS. They are trying to make you insecure so that you change things about yourself, your work, or jump through hoops to try to “make it up” to them when you did nothing wrong and there are no problems to fix. Do not fall for it! Instead, politely as possible, bring the issue into a public space where you feel safe/trust the people in that space to keep the bullshit from escalating. For me, I straight up explain my reasoning for the placement of my trigger list as if I’m advertising a particularly boring but important product that I’m selling, then offer places for them to bring the issue into a discussion with others. I send them to a discoed group or right here to my tumblr, and I immediately make the issue into a big discussion (do YOU think there is anything to change? Let’s ALL talk about it) so that I am no longer isolated and easy for them to harass. They might refuse to join the discussion and further try to pressure you, but do not cave. Merely say that a public discussion has been started, and if they are actually, legitimately concerned about the way you do things then they can debate it in a public setting. This way, you have back up. 9/10 people who try to target you this way will back off and never enter the conversation you started.

5) Do not fight back.

This sounds counterintuitive, but a lot of the time once discourse gets this bad, arguing/defending/ trying to prove your point only fuels their rage more. I have found that people hate very little in this world more than they hate being wrong. And people who hate being wrong will fight to the bitter death about their opinions, no matter how invalid or hurtful they are, in the favor of their blissful ignorance. Remove yourself from harmful discussions or those that seem to be going in circles as soon as possible, and try to surround yourself in your support group. Never let people make you feel stupid, your opinions illegitimate, or your likes/dislikes invalid or evil.

6) Try to learn how to recognize bullies in disguise

It’s too much for me to try to cover here, but you need to PLEASE look into how to spot gaslighting. Tactics of gaslighting are often used to attack others and try to make them feel like their own opinions are invalid or their mindset untrustworthy. People will often approach you in the guise of friendship/support/ “I am not into this, but...” and while this is not always a red flag, we have to keep our eyes open for any signs of this person or their approach being rooted in anything other than legitimate curiosity or kindness. Not all suggestions that say they are out of concern actually ARE. Keep an eye out for warning signs, and cut off interaction once things seem like they may lead to an argument or you being in a vulnerable position if you continue interacting.

(Brief mention of s**cide and threats in the section below)

7) If all else fails, BLOCK THEM.

No hesitation, we don’t need this shit. They make a second account? Block that too. Don’t respond, only take screenshots or reblog if it is directly harmful information that can/should be documented (words that encourage suicide, threats, insults that seem a little too specific for comfort) and give the evidence to someone you trust to look out for you. A therapist, a family member, or even the authorities if you deem that necessary. Just don’t handle it alone.

We are not responsible for other people’s actions, opinions, or anger. Take the steps to protect yourself instead of trying to reconcile. Sometimes, reconciliation isn’t an option. Both parties have to be willing to reconcile, and it is clear they have nothing in mind but hurting us. So raise your shields and protect yourself and your friends, we’re not gonna lose a war to petty jerks.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Schooling

A/N: hi anon! From what you’re requesting it’s pretty obvious that you’re struggling a grave bit with schooling and as someone who has been there (literally, I changed my major five times), I want to assure you that everything always falls into place the way it should be. I believe in you! 

Also, as i was posting this I remembered that I don’t know how schooling works in the USA so I just wrote it from a Belgian perspective. 

Summary: could u do a richie x reader where reader wants to be a musician but their parents are forcing them into sum hard uni course, but the readers getting awful grades and then accidentally applies to a random easy program instead of the hard one and freaks out tht her future ruined, so richie convinces the reader she doesn’t need to worry bc she’ll be a famous musician instead

High school was not a thriving environment for you. You had your friends, the losers club, who you adored and couldn’t imagine your life without, but you were also bullied relentlessly, and you weren’t fond of the studying part of the school dynamic. No one is, supposedly, but compared to Stan and Ben – both possessing the motivation and drive to put it in the effort, and Richie and Mike who were effortlessly smart, you felt lost.

The idea of college was the only thing holding you up, the only motivation to get through your high school years. That musical course you planned on taking was a bright light at the end of the tunnel. In hindsight’s, you accumulated way too much pressure on yourself for imagining college to be this amazing place where you would get to thrive in life. The reality was a lot more grim.

The first problems arose in choosing your major. Your friends had all zoned in on one – or were getting close to at least-, but you were clueless about what the right thing to do was. There were worlds apart between what you thought would truly bring you joy in life, and what your parents were manipulating you into choosing.

Your parents, at least when you’re younger, have the biggest influence on your view on the world and the way you see yourself fit in it. When your parents pushed you towards a biology degree, and kept at it for months, you agreed.

From day one, you knew it had been a mistake. You shared a few classes with Stan, and those all went over fine -because you had a friend around that you needed to stay strong for-, but the moment you had your first class, a deep feeling of dread settled inside you. Despite not enjoying high school like some might, at that moment you hoped for a miracle to turn back time.

Tests passed by in a flurry, and as each one got progressively worse, your mental health followed suit. You were caught in a visions cycle of bad grades and bad emotions, and it drained you so bad that anything that could potentially have anything to do with school, like emails, send you into a frenzy.

The inevitable happens on a Wednesday after school. You wasted a lot of time thinking of what could be, and winded up at the school that organized the musical course. On the home page of the sight, there had been a test titled: ‘is our schooling up your lane?’, and you, snorting with irony, took it to be coy. They asked a bunch of personal questions, and you didn’t think anything of it, until you received and email to state that you had started your admission to the school. The month long building tension snapped, and you started crying hysterically. You weren’t sure what you had done and if it was even anything to worry about, but everything got to be too much, and you wanted your best friend with you.

Richie arrived a mere ten minutes after your phone call, and let himself in to your bedroom where you were still crying on the bed. Thank god your parents weren’t home.

‘What’s up with you?’ Richie asked incredibly, sinking down on his back next to you on the bed. You appreciated the lack of fake sympathy and pity.

‘Same old,’ was the only thing you could come up with to say. You didn’t know if you had the energy to rehash everything again.

‘Your schooling again?’

‘It’s my schooling everyday Richie. It’s important.’

‘Is it as important as hanging out with me?’ It coaxes a laugh out of you, but the lighthearted moment is quickly squashed. You can’t shut off your kind and live in the moment. With everything you do, the reality slams on you, never allowing you to have a break.

‘Yes Richie. I know that school doesn’t matter to you, but it does to me. My parents will kill me if they find out I applied to this course. Help me.’

Your leg begins to bounce, a sign that your anxiety is taking over completely. Richie can recognize the signs, as he himself displays them often.

‘Calm down y/n, you’ll just follow the music program and became a musician. I’ll pay you to be my support act, and all of the losers will come to watch us. It’ll be fine.’

‘For you maybe, but my parents will kill me when they find out.’ It’s true. Before you enrolled in biology, you had already hinted at maybe following a music path, and your mom had shut it down faster then you could even finish your sentence.

Richie snorts. ‘Your parents are mad at you all the time. Who cares, in a few years you’ll be out of there and you won’t have to listen to them ever.’

‘But-‘

‘Y/N/N, come on’, Richie interrupts cheerfully. He throws one of his legs atop your to stop your leg from moving. ‘You’re stressing over nothing. If you can tell Bowers to fuck if you can do anything.’

‘Well Bowers was nothing, he’s just pathetic. This’, you empathizes ,‘is my future Richie.’ You sigh, completely disheartened. Your pc screen is lit up, and you notice a new email pop up from your new school. You can’t take it, why can’t you have a few moments to collect your thoughts?

‘What if I’m not good enough?’ You ask him quietly, sagging against Richie for support. It’s now that your true stress comes out. Your parents views are a problem, but if you were truly convinced that you could do it, you would go against their wishes anyway. ‘What if I do this, and I have to hear about how disrespectful I am for years, and it doesn’t pay off?’

Cruelly, Richie laughs. That’s weird. Richie is never fully serious, he always has a way to alter a situation into something cheerful, but he’ll never be intentionally rude.

‘Please? Not being good enough? You’re the best musician I’ve ever seen and heard.’

‘We live in Derry, that’s not saying much.’

‘I mean it. My second favorite thing is listening to you with your instrument, my favorite is still fucking Eddie’s mom though.’ A mom joke while you were debating over your major was not something you were aiming for, but hey, it’s Richie. Are you really surprised?

‘What do I do if I fail?’

‘You won’t. But if you do, you can always do that one year school thing right? You have the rest of your life to do the adult thing, why not choose your happiness now?’

It’s profound in a way Richie isn’t often -and in a way that people don’t credit him enough-. He has a hard time being serious, but you know that once he is, he always tells the truth. Maybe this time, he is too.

‘You truly believe that?’

‘It’s as true as my wang is long.’

‘Gross’, you protest, but his words light a fire under u. It gives you a whole new wave of confidence, a way to see things from a different perspective. Why wouldn’t you go for it and take the chance? Why should you be stuck doing something you take no pride or joy in. Your parents will be a problem, but this is not the life they have to life. They have made their own decisions, and now it’s time for you to take yours. Are you willing to do something for the rest of your life simply for your parents approval?

Another email filters in, one to confirm your decision to enroll in the new major. Richie intertwines your hands, offering up more strength to do what you have to. With one last encouraging smile, you nod to yourself, and press accept.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Amalia pt.2

For @artsymeeshee​. Thank you so so much for being you and for always brightening up my day! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you like it.

pt.1

~~~~~~~~~~

“Dipper, come on! They’re ready!”

The thirteen-year-old boy quickly joined his sister on her bed, lying on their stomach so they could see the laptop comfortably. Yes, they texted their grunkles at least three times a day and constantly sent emails and usually got to have a video call once a week, but that didn't make their interactions any less exciting and enjoyable. Dipper and Mabel’s parents were busy working so the twins had the house to themselves and could talk freely.

The laptop ringed a few times and soon they were graced with two nearly identical faces with distinct differences, both smiling widely at the young teenagers. “Hey there, kiddos!”

“Hi, guys!” Mabel returned, waving and grinning. “Did you get my package, did you, did you, did you?!”

“Yes, I have it right here.” Ford chuckled warmly and placed the package on the dining room table, where the old men were located.

“Well go ahead and open it!” Mabel squealed and Stan used his pocket knife to cut through the tape and they opened the box to find a large, brand new knitted blanket.

“Oh, wow! Mabel, sweetie, this is… wow.” Stan admired with shining eyes as he pulled the blanket out of the box.

“This might be your best work yet, my dear!” Ford complimented as he grazed the yarn with his fingers. “It’s so soft, and how on Earth did you manage to make it so big?”

“Big knitting needles!”

“She used her arms to knit it, like she had it looped around her actual arms.” Dipper answered honestly with a small, proud smile while Mabel blushed furiously.

“That’s very impressive.” Ford said.

“I’ll say! It’s beautiful! I love it!” Stan wrapped it around his shoulders and hummed; he could distantly smell his niece’s shampoo and cheap strawberry perfume. “Thank you, pumpkin.”

“You’re welcome, I just don’t want you guys to be cold or freeze to death up there.”

“Mabel, for the millionth time, I swear we’re fine.” Stan assured, unable to keep the laughter in his throat down.

“I know, but as the professional knitter in the family, it is my sworn duty to ensure you two stay warm and cozy, despite the challenging environment!” She said victoriously with her hand pointing upward, like she was pretending there was a flag behind her or something. “Anywho, what’s new with you guys?”

“Oh, nothing out of the abnormal.” Ford said casually, rocking his hand side-to-side in a painfully casual manner. “Iceland was interesting, we’re planning on heading back up North shortly to make it to Gravity Falls in time for summer, but we have about a month to spend exploring the United Kingdom until we have to start our way back.”

“Great!” Dipper commented. “See anything cool in Iceland? Any mountain trolls?”

“No, no trolls.”

“Although we did see this big smelly guy in a bar that looked half-troll to me.” Stan added in.

“But… we…” Stan gave Ford a dark look, so the eldest twin corrected himself quickly. “I… I did something.”

“Oh boy, did you burn a hole into the counter again, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel guessed.

Ford chuckled warmly and shook his head. “No, nothing like that. It’s… well, I’ll show you, hold on one minute.”

Dipper and Mabel watched one uncle get up and leave while the other held his head and rubbed his temples. “Grunkle Stan, what did he do?” Mabel asked.

“Something a certain pumpkin once did to me and I don’t appreciate it anymore now than I did before.” Stan mumbled.

Ford sat back down next to his twin, resulting in Mabel screaming and then quickly covering her mouth, her eyes wide and shining like stars. Dipper just stared, smiling, but mostly confused at the tiny furry thing on his grunkle’s chest. Ford couldn’t keep the dopey smile off his face as he petted the anomaly’s back and she licked his cleft chin. “This is Amalia.”

“OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS!” Mabel squealed, making Amalia jump a little and start looking around the boat for whatever was causing the sudden noise. “She’s so cute! I didn’t know you guys were gonna get a pet!”

“Neither did we.” Ford chuckled as Amalia sat on the table, still looking around. “She came aboard in Iceland and never left. She’s quite gentle and well-trained, very well behaved.”

“She’s a cute, furry jerk.” Stan growled.

“Stanley’s just mad at her because she knocked over his favorite mug this morning.”

“Daw, she probably wanted your attention, Grunkle Stan.”

“Well, she has it now.” Stan sneered and pointed his fingers from his eyes to the pet, still curiously on the hunt for the mysterious noise.

“How interesting.” Dipper muttered with a smile. “Do you know what species she is?”

“Not quite sure.” Ford answered. “She has many cat-like behaviors, but obviously she’s more than some exotic breed of a domestic feline. I’ve run a few tests, simply playing games with her to test her intelligence and watching her through the day, but so far nothing too abnormal has come up.”

“Well, as much as she doesn’t look like any breed I know of, she might be a hybrid we’ve never seen before, a mixture of two breeds of cat. I could do some research to see if she resembles any cat breeds.” Dipper pulled out his cellphone while Amalia looked at the scream, her eyes big at the teenagers.

“She’s looking at us, she’s looking at us!” Mabel whispered excitedly. “Hi, Amalia! Hi! I’m gonna knit you a cute sweater, yes I am!” She cooed.

Amalia pawed at the laptop, getting closer to it, and eventually walking on the keys.

“OY! Get off!”

“Stanley, don’t hurt her!”

“She’s gonna…”

And suddenly Dipper and Mabel were faced with a blank screen, making them laugh and quickly send snarky text messages to the old sailors.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan’s eyes slowly opened, lying on his back, and therefore first seeing the ceiling of the bunker of his beloved boat. He was stiff; his whole body was stiff and his eyes were crusty and he wanted to go back to sleep, but his body had had enough of sleep and it was time to leave his bed for the day.

Taking in a sharp breath to brace himself for the pain of first moving his old back, Stan sat up and placed his feet in his slippers. He reached for his glasses, surprised to find a note by them. He slipped on his aid of vision and immediately recognized his brother’s neat cursive writing.

Stanley, We needed a few supplies and I felt like going on a small walk early this morning, so I left you alone to sleep. I’ll be back by lunch. Please look after Amalia while I’m gone. Stanford. 6:18am

Stan swore under his breath. Not only had Sixer probably not slept well, Stan was willing to bet money on it, he was stuck babysitting the stupid animal. Who, by the way, was playing with a fluffy ball on the floor, silently amusing herself and leaving Stan alone. Well, fine then. He could work with that.

The younger twin stood and slipped on his bathrobe over his pajamas, making his way upstairs for coffee and maybe some breakfast. The clock over the stove read two minutes before ten, so coffee should tie him over until lunchtime. Stan filled the machine with a filter and grounds and turned on the pot after filling it with water, but he was disturbed from his work when he heard tiny footsteps and saw Amalia climbing up the steps and walking up to him.

“Whatcha want?” He growled sleepily.

Amalia, of course, didn’t answer, but instead sat next to where Stan stood and rubbed against his bony legs, purring her strange purr; it wasn’t normal like a cat’s but there was no other way to explain the sound she made. Stan snorted.

As the coffee pot filled with the caffeinated breakfast beverage, Stan fished out an apple from the fridge and bit into it. Okay, a small snack would be okay. His eye caught the small stacks of canned tuna Ford had put there, claiming Amalia preferred her fish cold, and he shrugged and decided to go ahead and feed the weird thing so he wouldn’t have to get up from the couch to do it later. At the sound of the can opening the little cat-like beauty sprung up on the table and tapped the surface with her little beanie paws, a bad habit Ford had installed early because “Amalia is too lady-like to eat on the floor,” the aged scientist had cooed as he placed the can on the table and scratched his pet.

Stan rolled his eyes and decided not to fight it. He sat Amalia’s breakfast on the table and she happily indulged in the cold fish while Stan poured himself a mug of coffee. He watched the anomaly eat peacefully, her tiny face almost completely engulfed in the food. The old conman couldn’t help but smile as he sipped his black drink. “You’re quieter than the pig. I’ll give you that.”

Amalia sat up, a bit of damp food on her face, but she licked it off and then began to clean herself by licking her paw and rubbing her face. Stan accidentally found himself watching her as he sipped his coffee, a small smile on his wrinkly face.

Really, the main reason why he was being the bad guy was because someone had to be in this type of situation. Someone had to try to be reasonable, someone had to oppose a potentially bad idea, and with Stan’s tough-guy persona and Ford opting out of being the cold, realistic, mad-scientist in order to be a big marshmallow for a weird cat, Stan was the perfect candidate. With that being said, Stan reminded himself of an incident he was faced with over fifty years ago.

“Stanford, please!”

“Stanley, I’m sorry, but he’s a wild animal. Don't you think he’ll be happier out in nature? And what will Ma and Pa say?”

“They… They don’t have to know…”

“Stanley!”

“Sixer, please! C’mon! I’m begging you! I’ll do anything! Just please don’t rat me out!”

“Whoa, whoa. I’d never tattle on you, I… I won’t tell, but I really think you shouldn’t keep him as a pet.”

It was only a week, but by the time Stan re-introduced the animal as Shanklin the Stab-Possum, Ford’s appreciation for the strange pet was much stronger and he even used him to help free the Jersey Devil. Plus it was easy to keep the possum a secret when they were grounded in their room all summer. Ford never did tattle and he loved that possum almost as much as Stan loved Shanklin. So, okay, if a couple of weird nine-year-olds can have a possum for a pet, then a pair of eccentric old sailors can have an unknown cat for a pet.

Stan left the kitchen-area for the couch and pulled out a newspaper he had snagged yesterday to finish. He opened it with a rustle and sat comfortably, but not long did he feel something join him on his right side and then two little paws land on his leg. Stan lowered his reading material and raised an eyebrow at Amalia, who just looked at him with sparkling eyes. “What?”

Of course the anomaly didn’t answer, but she did climb across his legs for his lap and sat in a curled-up ball for a mid-morning nap. Stan sighed with a smile, scratched her behind the ear, and rescued his reading.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks later and the Stan O’ War was harbored at Ipswich, UK. Having traveled through the Irish Sea and around England, the ship was about to head up north, beginning the journey for home. But Mabel had given the twins another city to be in for another package, and so with Amalia in Ford’s hoodie and Stan holding two bags of groceries, they stopped by the post office and picked up their mail.

Cushioned in a new baby-blanket for Amalia were two small sweaters just perfect for the little anomaly. One was purple with a golden six-fingered hand and a golden crescent with each symbol having an ‘s added to it, and beneath all of this the word “pet” was stitched on in colorful letters. The second one was fluffy white with a baby-blue paw-print on it, each sweater big enough to not squeeze Amalia and with the designs on her back so the humans could see them easily.

While Amalia was never shivering or actively cold, Ford ignored Stan’s laugh-filled orders not to torture their pet and the fluffy-haired twin had Amalia try on the white sweater, who loved it so much she refused to let Ford take it off of her for a few hours. Stan, of course, had to end a picture to their niece, who may or may not have cried at the sight and at the caption her uncle sent it with, “Amalia loves Auntie Mabel’s sweaters.”

[jawritter]

The Arrangement

Part 7

Summery: You are a young girl that was raised in a small church in Dallas, TX. One of the only churches left in the state that still practices arranged marriages. When your betrothed ran off to California you thought you'd escape the fate you were trained for ever since a small child. Now upon the death your parents your fate seemed to be inescapable as he's returned, and is ready to take you as his bride.

Book Warnings: Arranged marriage, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex, angst, language, suicide attempt, battles with anxiety, struggles with mental illness, age gap (about 11 years), I think that’s it, chapters will have warnings of their own!

Chapter Warnings: Hints of anxiety on the readers part, getting settled in, I think that’s pretty much it, this one is pretty mild.

Word Count: 1541

A/N: This book is a book about Christian and church based arranged marriages, I would like to take this moment to say that I DO NOT have ANYTHING against the Chirstian faith, and mean absolutely no harm to anyone! Especially Jensen’s family! This is a complete work of fiction, and should be treated as such!

Beta’d by the amazing @deanwanddamons who was awesome enough to do all this for me! It was a lot of work, and she deserves all the praise for it!!

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

You and Jensen  had been at the B&B for two days. The day after your wedding Jensen spent the day pampering, and cuddling you, not letting you cook, not letting you do much of anything, except lay there in each other's arms and watch TV.

Well, what little bit of time he didn't have you otherwise preoccupied with his lips. Which if you were being completely honest you didn't mind even a little bit.

He hadn’t left you alone for even one minute, even took a shower with you this morning. You thought you had successfully beaten him awake, but he slipped right in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and continued to pamper you. Showing you things about yourself you didn’t even know. 

It was almost amazing, the way he could play your body like a fine tuned instrument, and you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of the feeling you got everytime he touched you.

Last night, before you'd gone to bed Jensen had told you that today you were going to go back to Austin to the home that he had there.

You were grateful that you weren't being dragged to California, but you were also grateful to get away from Dallas.

You wanted to leave all the hurt that the memories of your hometown brought behind. You wanted to start over with Jensen, to create the real marriage he was talking about, maybe have a little family of your own, even if he didn't want to have children, as long as you had him, that was all you needed.

You'd been up for a few hours, and had packed everything and placed it by the door, everything that you could anyway, leaving Jensen out a change of clothes and his bathroom bag so that he could get dressed when he got up.

You had, had two days off of being a wife, which was now your main duty and concern, and it was time to start doing what you knew you were supposed to do. Provide a comfortable living environment for your husband.

Watching the pile of covers move up and down with each of Jensen's deep breaths, you couldn't help but smile as you watched him sleep through the door you had left open.Sitting at the small bar in the middle of the kitchen you could hear the distant, soft sounds of his snoring filtering into the kitchen from the bedroom.

In just two days, he’d managed to make you fall in love with him. You don't know when exactly you'd fallen head over hills for him, though you knew that it was too late for you, you were in love with him. Now you just had to make sure he was happy and allowed you to stay.

Three hours later Jensen had got up, got dressed, and got his coffee. The car was loaded and you were on the road headed toward Austin, Texas, what was soon to be your new home.

"You're going to like it here sweetheart, I've got a house in the hill country outside of Austin. It's peaceful here, no one to bother us. We got all the time in the world to ourselves. I'm not going back to work, not right now anyways. I might do some local stuff around Austin, just to keep myself busy, but I want to spend as much time with you as possible. I want to get to know my wife."

Lacing your fingers with his, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles as he kept his eyes on the road. The traffic thickened up as you got closer and closer to Austin.

You smiled at him a little, and then looked back out of the passenger side window, watching the scenery go by in a blur as the car moved down the highway.

Jensen was doing everything he knew how to do to make you happy, you could tell that much. He was going above and beyond to make sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. That was a behavior you didn't really expect, though it wasn't unwelcome.

You were wrapped up in your own thoughts when Jensen pulled you back into reality. 

"Y/n, you sure you're okay? You haven't said a word since we left Dallas."  He looked at you with concern in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired still. I am fine though Jensen, you don't have to worry about me." you tell him , and he grips your hand tighter.

"You've been through a lot over the last week, I just don't want to overwhelm you." he said, looking back to the road, holding your hand tightly in his, making little circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

The rest of the car ride to Jensen's house was pretty quiet. You watched your surroundings as they went by you, trying to make sure you could find where you needed to go if you had to do it alone. You'd never really driven anywhere outside of Dallas, so when you had to go grocery shopping for you the first time it was probably going to be quite the experience.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Jensen said, pulling up in the front of  a house that was hidden in a little cove of trees just outside the actual city limits of Austin.

"What do you think?" 

Jensen was watching your every move, trying to decipher the look that was on your face. You'd never seen anything like this little house. You definitely never thought you'd see live in anything like this.

"Jensen I love it." you say, looking around the peaceful grounds. You could totally see yourself sitting out back in the cool of the day, enjoying the quiet peace that seemed to surround this place.

"Good. I'm glad you like it." Jensen said, leaning down giving you a quick peck on the cheek before he got out of the car to go and open your door.

Once you got into the house it was the most gorgeous house you'd ever seen, cute, modern, and sleek, yet very inviting and comfortable. Not at all what you expected.

Jensen walked in with you, watching you closely. 

"Will this be okay? We can change whatever you want, or hell if you're uncomfortable here we can just move." 

He watched you with bated breath. He wanted this to work between the two of you, he wanted you to be comfortable. He wanted you to feel like you had a home.

"Jensen, it's perfect, we don't have to change anything, and we don't have to move." you tell him, laughing a little at his nervousness.

It was the first time he'd ever heard you laugh, and he couldn't help but smile. Sitting the bags down on the floor, he closed the distance between the two of you in two short strides, wrapping his arms around your waist he pulled you to him, and hugged you like his life depended on it.

"Good, I want you to be happy here baby." 

He put his lips softly to yours for a moment. A slow, sweet kiss. Nothing needy, nothing pressing, just the two of you enjoying the feeling of each other lips moving and working together.

Even though you have been through a lot, and if you were being completely honest you were more than a little overwhelmed, you could get used to this.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him, his lips on yours. It was a feeling that was absolutely indescribable. Perfect even.

Jensen's phone started to ring, breaking the sweet moment you were having between the two of you. Jensen groaned and pulled away from you just enough to look at his phone.

"That's Jared, he’s a friend of mine I used to work with on Supernatural. He's a little upset that I didn't tell him about the wedding until the day it was supposed to happen. He's not so into the whole arranged marriage thing. I probably need to call him, and tell him that everything is okay. Let him know we're back in Austin." 

Leaning down he gave your cheek a peck, and grabbed your bags off the floor where he’d laid them.

"Go get settled in, get to know the house. When I get back, we will figure out what we want to do for dinner. I don't want you to have to cook tonight. I want us to just spend time with each other tonight. Okay?" he said, reaching up with his free hand, and brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face with this hand.

That burning desire that you recognized in his eyes from the first night the two of you were together, combined with the soft little gesture makes you blush, and look away from him.

"Okay" was all you could whisper back to him as he walked away from you into another room to call his friend.

Was it normal to feel this way about this man already? God he knew how to make you weak in the knees without even really trying. It was definitely going to take some practice to get to where you could think clearly around him, because he had a way of captivating you, and completely clouding your mind from anything but him.

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