#plenty of teenagers have already grown out of their lack of sophistication by 16 or 17 but it's not a given

[starfieldcanvas]

no, that guy can be banned without the mods feeling bad about it. "skirting the written rules to be an ass and get away with it" is a violation of a clear and well-known societal rule. the rule-skirter is a pain in the ass, yeah, but he's only a permanent problem if the moderator can't handle making judgement calls about antisocial behavior not covered by pre-written rules, in which case that mod probably shouldn't be a mod.

being consistently annoying in a clueless but well-meaning way, in a way where not only is the person not breaking any rules, not only are they not being antisocial, but they also aren't even really violating any unwritten etiquette in any way that can be explained to them, is the worst because there genuinely isn't anything the person is doing wrong! they're trying to contribute, they're friendly, they're generally at least trying to be interested in what other people have to say, and in my experience they often don't realize they're being put up with or patronized, even when other community members lose their patience and get short with them.

some people in the comments are describing community members who are actually bad in some concrete objectionable way, but that's not the kind of guy OP was talking about. we are talking about the discord server equivalent of your 11-year-old cousin who really really wants to talk to you about his favorite streamer who's modded Among Us into a farming sim, but he is very bad at explaining things so it's incredibly boring and confusing no matter how many patient questions you ask and you keep having to correct him on small mistakes and he keeps trying and failing to be funny. these problems are of course normal and expected for 11-year-olds, but when the person is 27, there is no longer any real hope that they are going to grow out of it.

they aren't bad, you just can't have a fucking normal conversation with them because the thing they're doing wrong is close enough to normal socializing that you can't easily explain what they need to change. "stop being boring"? "stop being clueless"? "stop trying to crack jokes"??? you end up in a situation of "can we just not be friends? i do not enjoy spending time with you," and that's hard enough when you're actually in a position to reject their overtures of friendship, but when you're a community moderator, you're not their friend, you're more like their homeroom teacher, and you can't send a kid to the principal's office for being consistently lowkey annoying!

from my experience as a moderator, i would say that while this description does appear to dovetail with the childhood experiences of many neurodivergent people, especially autistic people, the similarity is surface-level only. by the time you're in your mid-twenties, the ND folks are now painfully aware of their social disabilities and consequently adopt a wide variety of coping mechanisms—whether that's just getting better at reading cues with time, social scripting, grouping up with similarly-divergent folks, strategic masking, or (more destructively) perpetual masking, collecting codependents, exploding when their rejection sensitivity is triggered, and/or accusing everyone of conspiring against them when they realize they once again are not well-liked by a new group.

the Terminal Insophisticate doesn't seem to do any of that shit. they've somehow floated through life being just close enough to normal that they don't leave a path of traumatically burned bridges behind them. nothing so obvious! they are just barely tolerable in conversation, which makes them a perfect candidate for friendships based on shared experience rather than shared intimacy, and likewise a good candidate for the kind of old-fashioned romantic relationship where you didn't actually have to be particularly good friends to work together as partners.

i know (and have moderated) a ton of people with neurodivergence-driven social handicaps, but i have no fucking clue what is "wrong" with the Terminal Insophisticate. best guess? they are just a bit dim.

in my many years of running online communities i have dealt with many near-identical representatives from respective species of idiot, loser and asshole and by far the worst person to have on your server is the primordially clueless unfunny guy who Means Well to the extent that you would feel bad for just banning them because they genuinely have something wrong with them that makes them insanely annoying. not a cognitive disability i mean just terminally unsophisticated. in all cases it is better to just have the forums-hardened shit-stirrer who can be banned unceremoniously. the meek and infuriating Naif is subject to months of discussion in the mod chat as we all try to weigh our sense of social responsibility against everyone being sick of this fucking guy

[stevieang]

Life As You Know It

Pairing: Tony Stark x Fem!Reader Insert, college AU

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: High school clique drama, implied bullying, mean girls, boy/girl best friends, vague reference to death if you look sideways and upside down

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Summary: You and Tony Stark were best friends, your mothers were best friends, and you were always there for each other.  You went to the same high school and attended college in the same town.  Maria Stark loved you like her own, and knew that, given the right amount of time and opportunity, more could develop between you and her son.  Would the two of you catch on?

A/N: Congratulations to @fanficfaerie for this follower milestone, it is so well deserved!  Thank you for creating and running this Disney Song and Quote Challenge, I am sure it is time consuming and taxing in ways I can’t imagine.  I appreciate the opportunity to participate, though I’m a tad nervous - I’ve never written Tony Stark before - hope this fits the bill!  

Quote: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Winnie the Pooh 

You were fuming.  The good-girl, goodie-two-shoes rep that you so carefully cultivated with your teachers had always served you well.  It was a complete act, but only your besties had any inkling.  Until today, when the meanest of mean girls in your private school learned that you were responsible for a social media post detailing her daily atrocities.  Your best friend Tony Stark helped you erase all traces of a digital fingerprint, but somehow, Christine found out and, after enlisting her parents’ help, had your ass hauled to the principal’s office. 

As you listened to the adults yelling, lecturing, and threatening, all you could think of was the scene in “The Incredibles” when Dash’s teacher was trying to convince the principal to suspend him for putting a tack on his chair, to no avail.  Except in your reality, there was no parent in the room to defend or punish you.  Your parents were divorced, your Dad living on the other side of the country and your Mom, a pharmaceutical sales rep for a national company, always on the road.  You had a good relationship with both your parents, but they were of the mind that the biggest part of their job was to instill solid moral character and independence from an early age.  When you turned 16 and started driving, your mom made good on her plan to prepare you for adulthood.  You had to complete all necessary home and school functions, maintain an acceptable GPA, incur no disciplinary problems, and communicate daily with her about the little and big things going on in your life.  In exchange, you could come and go as you pleased, and have run of the house when she traveled, which was more often than not.  Your living situation was the envy of the school.  You weren’t about to do anything to mess it up, but today, it seemed you were on the fast-track to doing just that.

As your mom was out of town, the person they called, your guardian in absentia, was your Mom’s best friend since childhood, Maria Stark.  Mrs. Stark was used to being called in to various offices of authority to answer for her son’s behavior, ego, or infractions.  Tony started building internal combustion engines when he was 6, so high school was something he could have skipped altogether, but was forced upon him by his mother, to “foster social skills,” and help him get the “traditional teenage experience.”  He was smarter than all his teachers and never let an opportunity pass where he could point that out.  It was never well received.  You two made a great “we don’t fit the mold and we love it” duo.  

“Explain to me again why we’re here, sir, because I am at a loss to understand what rule this young lady has broken.”   Maria was elegant, sophisticated and, in her own right, a very smart woman.  When she asked a question, most likely she knew the answer; she was simply gathering information to support her argument against the unlucky person sitting across from her.

“Mrs. Stark, this young lady used social media to smear and defame the reputation of another student.  As the school handbook states, this is grounds for detention and possibly suspension, as well as joint treatment sessions with the school counselor.”  You leapt out of your chair, full of righteous teenage anger, intent on storming out.  Maria’s hand on your arm and supportive gaze cooled your temper; she wasn’t going to let anyone steamroll you.

The next hour was spent determining what evidence, if any, conclusively linked you to the incident.  Turns out, there was none, other than the suspicion of parents who were mortified that their daughter’s abhorrent behavior was now out in the world for anyone to see.  You admitted to nothing, and though Christine’s face was chartreuse as the rapidly-growing Twitter feed was read aloud, there was nothing that pointed to you, other than the well-known fact that you hated the girl’s guts.  It was the tragically classic scenario of a beautiful popular girl collecting herdmates to make fun of and torture girls like you, someone who didn’t fit nicely in any round holes. You left with a week’s worth of detention for the bogus crime of “lack of adherence to the school’s honor code” and a promise to clear your name when they found out you were innocent.  After you filled him in, Tony shared your disbelief, and immediately started plotting.

You and he sat in the backseat while Maria drove home, spending the entire time texting with back and forth about ways to get even with the principal, to continue to make Christine’s life terrible, and to find out who suggested you were responsible.

“Hey, you two.  I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I know it’s some kind of revenge plan.  I won’t have that, Tony.  I will not have you two digging yourself any deeper.”

Tony:  My mom knows it was you?

You: I never said a word, but she’s not dumb.

Tony: No she’s not, but do you want to tell her?

You: u think I should?

Tony: I would.

You: You would put up a billboard on the highway to announce you did it.  Not a great role model.

Tony: I’ll give you that.

“Ok, Mrs. Stark, no revenge.  I promise.”  You leaned forward to lay your hand on her shoulder.  “Thank you so much for being there today.  I’d probably be suspended if you hadn’t been.”

“Yes, you’re right, I’m sure.  Let’s forget all this and have some dinner, shall we?”

The Starks employed a chef, but when Mr. Stark was traveling, Maria often chose to cook.  Tony ate, but he preferred the company of metal and circuits to people, so he often brought his plate in his room.  When you joined them, he was required to come to the table, and Maria always prepared something you both loved to eat.  Tonight, it was vegetable and pasta salad with steak and potatoes, accompanied by calm and civilized conversation that focused on things other than what happened earlier in the day.  You appreciated not having to rehash the event, again, not being judged.  You looked at the mother and son sitting next to you and felt cared for, taken care of.  It was nice to not be a grown-up for once.

Tony’s thoughts were multiplying on how to get back at that little bitch Christine and her circle of hags.  He looked at you, his best friend, one of the few people in the world that cared about him without reservation or expectations.  He looked at you, the girl who stood by him at every step, every failure, every success, who encouraged his work, appreciated his failures, and called him out on his bullshit at every opportunity.  Senior year was in full swing and he knew he never wanted to be without you.  He also knew your insecurities and that made his heart bend even more, because he had them, too.

Maria looked at you and her son and smiled.  Your rapid-fire conversation was smart, witty, and, at times, vulgar, but with an undercurrent of true affection.  When she and her best friend delivered what would be their only children within a month of each other, they made a promise to remain a part of each other’s lives.  That promise had borne this friendship playing out at her dining room table.  Tony looked at you adoringly, and you returned it with a gaze full of laughter and spark, two things that were necessary if you were going to ever be more than friends.  Maria knew the ingredients for a great match were already there, all that was needed was time and opportunity, and there would be plenty of both.

Until there wasn’t.

After graduating from high school, you both attended college in Boston;  Tony blowing shit up at M.I.T. and you diving head-first into your double-major at Boston College.  He was famous before he arrived, but after? He was a magnet for all things flashy, fun, illegal, and new.  He was surrounded wherever he went; inundated with phone numbers, obvious invitations to a variety of one-night stands, and so much debauchery and alcohol that the head of campus security told the president of MIT, who then called the big man, Howard.  After the browbeating, the only change in his behavior was an improved ability to slide under the radar and avoid trouble.  You only found out on the increasingly-rare occasion you texted each other.

You lived in separate apartments, attended different schools, pursued different fields of study.  It was natural that you wouldn’t see each other as you once did.  You shied away from the big loud crowds that were Tony’s new normal, and he couldn’t understand why you enjoyed spending quiet time with friends that weren’t him.  The waning friendship hurt both of you, in ways the other didn’t recognize.  Tony sought out the company of an unceasing string of one-night stands and you finally decided to open your heart to guys whose names weren’t always in the paper.  Life went on, with a little less spark, less laughter, less heart.  The holidays were fast approaching, and this time, they felt different; and not in a good way.

Thanksgiving break was a quick one, spent catching up with family and marshalling your energy to push through finals.  For the first time in your memory, you did not want to go to the Stark’s home for the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving dinner, where everybody brought a dish of leftovers, the Stark’s added liquor and pizza, and you caught up for hours.  You tried to get out of it, but it was non-negotiable, from your mother’s perspective.  You planned on staying away from Tony, kissing Maria and Howard, and coming home with claims of a headache.  After the party, the Moms talked and compared notes about how glum their children became at the mention of the other’s name.  They each took it upon themselves to plant seeds that would ignite the feelings they knew you had for one another.  

“Hey, Stark’s here for you.”  You were on your bed, hair up, pencil through the elastic, piles of books and your laptop spread out everywhere.  The sigh that escaped did not go unnoticed by the playboy who didn’t bother to wait for an invitation to enter your room.

“I heard that sigh and I resent it.  What? No confetti? No nudity?  What the hell?  When did you turn into a grown-up?”  You snorted, knowing this line of questioning was meant to either convince you to do something you didn’t want to, or to help assuage his guilt.  “I grace you with my presence on a Friday night and this is what I find? The old lady librarian look?”  It didn’t matter to him what you wore, anything you chose made his heart leap, but damned if he was going to let you know that.

Your glasses slipped off as you leaned forward, doubled over in laughter.  “Guess so, T.  There’s this thing most neurotypical humans do.  It’s called “studying,” it’s in every college handbook ever printed, and if I don’t do it, I’m not going to Oxford.”  Your undergraduate work had led you to your calling, Cognitive Neuroscience studies.  Your entire life’s goal was to gain admission to the Wellcome Trust Doctoral Training Program in Neuroscience at Oxford, which meant every grade counted, every test and paper was important.  You had no time to indulge in dinner out, let alone participate in the Unequivocally Unchecked Life of Tony Stark.

His facade fell, a bit, as he sat next to you and gently placed your glasses back on your nose.  You immediately pushed them up to avoid his eyes, and pulled loose papers out from under his exceptionally toned butt.  Not that you noticed.  “C’mon, it’s Friday night, when’s the last time you left this apartment to do something other than study? I told our moms I would check in on you.”

“Ahhhh, so that’s why you’re here, Moms Mandate.”  Your disappointment must have been evident, even to the oblivious Tony Stark.

“No.  I’m here because I didn’t get to see you over Thanksgiving and I miss hanging out with someone who doesn’t kiss my ass.  Though, if you wanted to kiss anything of mine, I would be more than open to that idea.”  Tony rarely seemed awkward, he covered it so well with bravado that it took a trained eye to realize that insecurity bubbled close to the surface.

You surprised yourself, and him, when you slowly leaned forward and, at the last minute, kissed his forehead.  His expression caused you to cry with laughter, again, as you hopped up and grabbed something to drink.  A surge of pride filled you; you had unsettled the unflappable Tony Stark.  “You can report back to the Moms that I am fine.  Working very hard, achieving excellent grades, exhibiting an appropriate level of safety, enjoying my friends, and unsullied by neither man nor woman.”  He sighed and dropped his head in disgust.

“That is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.  C’mon, you’re coming with me, you are going to experience Boston nightlife and actually live the college dream.”  He was clearly thrilled with the idea, but you put the brakes on his party train.  

“Thank you for taking on the role of social protectorate, but I can’t.  I am not going to engage with you about why and how, I just need you to trust that I cannot go out tonight.”  His skepticism didn’t make you waver one bit.  

“Ok, then tomorrow night, and I am not taking no for an answer.  You are going to get all dolled up and enjoy a breathtakingly irresponsible night on the town.  My treat.”  Your heart flipped at the invitation, but it didn’t stop you from speaking your mind.

“As enticing as that invitation is, I do not want to be an anonymous member of the Tony Stark entourage.  I can find my own fun, thanks.”  You stood and opened the door, picking up additional reference materials and returning your attention to the task at hand.  “Bye T, thanks for stopping by, say hi to your Mom for me.  Please tell her I can’t wait to see her and your Dad at Christmas.”  

Tony Stark was unaccustomed to being dismissed.  He knew that other than his mother, you were the only person that could do it and cause him to pause and re-evaluate his behavior.  As he left, he knew he had to prove to you that he was sincere, that he wanted to hang out with you, help you lighten up, and watch you enjoy yourself.  You gasped and looked at him as he gently encircled your waist and hugged you.

“I miss you.  I want to spend time with you.  Please.”  You froze in his arms, unable to process what was going on.

“Sure, T.  Text me tomorrow and let me know what’s up.  We can meet up somewhere, no problem.”  Little did you know that Tony had much more in mind than a simple dinner.

You awoke to a confusing text.

Tony: When you read this, please head to the campus library and ask for the head librarian.  She has something for you

You: Ummmmmm, ok?

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you were a tiny bit fluttery that Tony had taken the time to think about you to this degree.  You grabbed a bagel and your protein shake and headed over.  You knew the head librarian, Ms. Williams, very well and she smiled upon seeing you.

“One moment, dear.  I’ve got something for you.”

Follow this clue to the 8th floor.  You will find an old friend waiting in the Children’s Literature section, with your next objective. You complied, searching for the provided shelf number when you arrived at the 8th floor.

You laughed as The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh came into view, with a Pooh and honey pot bookmark stuck in the pages.  This book was a staple of your childhoods.  Your mothers gave each other copies, read the stories to you every night, and your favorite quote was under your senior picture in the high school yearbook.  Your excitement grew as you remembered how fun Tony could make the most mundane events.  You also wondered how the hell he had time to do all this between last night and this morning.

The bookmark was tucked into the page with the quote, and you smiled at his sweetness.  He knew how much it meant to you.  

 “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” 

Did you think I could forget these words? They mean as much to me as they do to you.  I wanted to remind you of how much you mean to me.  There’s a surprise waiting for you at your apartment, where you’ll find the next clue.

You practically sprinted back home, gasping when you saw a beautiful soft yellow dress hanging on your closet door, with an appointment card to a very expensive salon on Newbury Street.  You turned the card over and continued to smile - Tony had already paid for whatever you wanted done and had left a tip. He really could be thoughtful when he took the time.

It was early December, so you bundled up before heading out to your appointment.  When you left, you could not believe the transformation.  

You: Thanks Tony, I can’t believe you did all this.

Tony:  For you? Of course.  I’ll be by at 8pm.  Can’t wait to see you.

That felt different.  Your insides squished and squirmed - whether it was excitement or nerves, you weren’t sure.  You dressed, beautified, and waited.  

Tony: I hope you’re ready, beautiful.  On my way.

Geez, he was laying it on thick.  You laughed when he pulled up to your building in a regular old car he must have borrowed from someone’s father and jumped out to open your door.  You had no idea why he would not drive one of his ridiculously flashy fleet.  You were a huge Madonna fan in your younger years, and this struck you as the plot of her “Material Girl” video; was he trying to impress you by thinking he was just as “regular” as you were? Tony could never be described as “regular” or “average,” even if he didn’t have a dollar to his name.

Tony never really stopped.  He momentarily paused, he changed his focus, but his brain, his body, his mouth were always in high gear.  So when he got out of the car and saw you, it was a wholly different feeling.  He had never seen you look so beautiful - the dress wrapped within your white winter coat, your cheeks pink from the cold, your hair beautifully styled.  He hadn’t realized how long your hair had gotten and how much it changed your entire appearance.  

“You look stunning.  I did a very good job picking this out, didn’t I?” Now this was your best friend.  

“Yes, Tony, you did an amazing job.  I loved the clues, loved the book, loved everything.  It made me realize how much I missed you.”  You turned to him and asked him to stop.  “How much I missed the real Tony Stark.” His eyes closed as you softly kissed his cheek and let your hand land on his.

“C’mon, time for me to show you off and ply you with insanely expensive drinks.” He kept his promise.  The night was fun, like old times, but prettier and with alcohol.  You talked about everything and nothing, filling each other in, sharing your hurts and stories and plans, and reveling in each other’s company.  Neither of you wanted the night to end, so you invited him to your apartment for a nightcap.  You were shocked when he refused.

“No thanks, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  Your eyes questioned and he saw the sting of rejection.  He looked at you, held your hands, and pecked your lips with his.  You stepped back, stunned. “You have no idea how much I want to, but I want to earn you, and I haven’t yet.”

“What does that mean? What are you trying to earn?”

“Someone I don’t deserve.  You.”  With another soft peck on the cheek, he was gone.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas break, you wondered if that night was a dream.  You and Tony awkwardly texted a bit, but didn’t see much of each other in the mad rush of finals.  After handing in your last project and dragging yourself to your apartment to make up as much lost sleep as possible, you were stunned out of your stupor by the sight of Tony waiting in front of your door. 

“You’re done, right?” His tired smile mirrored your own.

“Yes, thank the Lord in Heaven and every deity known to modern man.”  

“Good.  I wanted to show you something I’ve been working on.”  He stood and took out his phone, ready to press play when you put your hand over his.

“Tony can we go inside so I can sit down and maybe sleep for 2 days?”  He barely heard you, his nerves clearly a distraction, but he nodded and sat next to you, relaxing when you lay your head on his shoulder.

He apologized for leaving you hanging since your night out, for not paying enough attention to you, for not showing you how much you meant to him.  “My mom also slapped me once or twice to drive the point home that I’ve been a douchebag.  I’m sorry.”  He cued up the video on his phone and played it.  The introduction included the theme song to the “Winnie the Pooh” movie and cut to your favorite quote.  He took your silence for awe, then realized you were sleeping soundly.

As he tucked a blanket around you and kissed your forehead, he whispered, “You are the reason I am braver and stronger, and that’s because you’re smarter.  I hope you hear me because I can’t imagine saying it out loud again.”  You smiled to yourself as you snuggled under your covers and drifted off to sleep.

The End