redefine normal

Redefining Normal

I’ve always thought that the Gryffindor boys’ discussion at their first Welcoming Feast should have raised alarm bells, so here we go. I’ve kept things canon-compliant/plausible where possible.

“Enter.” At Severus’s drawled permission the owner of the timid knock slips into the room, his orange hair bright in the dim light.

“Mr Weasley. And what pray tell brings a Gryffindor to the dungeons?”

The boy comes closer to stand nervously before his desk. After a moment of fidgeting Severus sees him take a deep breath, obviously gathering what little Gryffindor courage he possesses.

“Well, you see, I was going to go to Professor McGonagall, after all she is our Head of House, but I never see her in the dorms or common room, none of us do, and then I heard that you were the one to come to in these sort of situations, and, well, I need to know…” His babbling trails off as his courage fails beneath his professor’s scowl.

“Mr Weasley. Get to the point, or get out and stop wasting my time.” The threat seems to work.

“What’s the definition of abuse?” The first year blurts out the words, his face turning red to match his hair.

“Why, in Merlin’s name…” He looks at him strangely; why is a Gryffindor, a Weasley, asking him this question? The one topic that will cause him to put aside his snarky attitude and respond in all seriousness. His blood chills as a thought crosses his mind. Surely the boy can not be asking for himself? Surely he is not being asked to intervene in the family of red-headed terrors? He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the nervous child before him, he is getting ahead of himself.

“Very well, Mr Weasley. I will answer your question, but then I do expect you to tell me why you find it necessary to know. There are four main categories of abuse; physical, psychological or emotional, neglect, and sexual. The non-accidental infliction of injury or pain. Verbal assault, threats, intimidation, or emotional manipulation. The withholding or lack of provision of necessities both physical and emotional. Any sexual contact with a minor or without consent.”

The boy nods to himself and Severus marvels at the expression on his face. Gone is the earlier nervousness, instead he is serious, thoughtful, taking in his words and comparing them to some previous concept. His manner is completely different to what he has seen so far, and he waits to discover what has prompted the change. Blue eyes meet his and he suddenly finds himself wanting to look away. He doesn’t want to hear what he will say next; it is a Gryffindor problem, not his. Yet the boy’s expression says otherwise.

“Professor, I’ve got some new definitions for you. Neville, Seamus, Harry. Neville, Dean, Harry. Possibly Dean, probably Neville, definitely Harry. And, bloody hell, I hope not Harry.”

The teacher in him notes his language, but the rest is reeling. When he saw the direction the conversation was taking he knew it would be bad, but all of them? And Potter. Perfect Prince Potter. He is supposed to be pampered and arrogant like his father, not… this. His mind shies away from the thought but runs into another equally uncomfortable. If he never saw it in any of them – and even this early in the year, he should have – what else has he missed?

“How…?” For once, his mind is too incoherent for words, but the Weasley boy understands.

“The thing you have to remember, Professor, is that I grew up with five older brothers, including the twins; I know how to read people. Besides, we talk, in the dormitory; most of them don’t really understand that what happens is wrong.” His voice is hard and Severus has trouble remembering that he is just an eleven year old.

“Dean, you know, is a muggleborn. They didn’t know what was happening when his accidental magic started, his parents thought he was possessed or something, tried nearly everything they could think of to fix it. He hasn’t gone into a lot of detail, but I know that discovering it was magic really didn’t help anything. I think he almost had to run away to come here.” This is not a story Severus has heard often, working with his mostly pureblood Slytherins, but it is more common among those from other Houses. He makes a mental note; this is a situation that will need to be resolved before the summer holidays.

“Seamus had it slightly better, at least his mum knew about magic and was able to help him, a bit. Didn’t help with his Da though. He’s muggle; she couldn’t tell him about magic until after the wedding, he didn’t take it too well. Things sound like they’re pretty much fine as long as his Da can forget about it. It seems that he’s learnt how to feel his accidental magic building, and to hold it in it until he can release it again out of his Da’s sight. Unfortunately, the results then tend to be slightly explosive…” Severus nods, that would account for the boy’s tendency towards pyrotechnics, then. He tries hard to avoid focusing on the rest of the explanation; the child’s situation far too familiar for comfort.

“Neville, on the other hand, has the opposite problem. For years his family thought he was a Squib, and kept half-killing him to try and draw his magic out. When they finally did, it was by dropping him out of a tower window; they were more excited about the magic than they were about him surviving! Now, he’s still not really convinced he’s a proper wizard and is terrified of disappointing people and not living up to his father’s example.” He winces. Blasted Gryffindors. That… explains a lot about the boy. As frustratingly inept as the child can be, even he knows that approach can only have made things worse.

“As for Harry, I don’t even know where to start with those bloody muggle relatives of his. I mean, his bedroom up until a month ago was a cupboard; literally! From what I can tell, if you think human house elf working for a Death Eater family you get the idea. And the worst is, he seems to think he deserves it.” No. That is not Potter’s son, Lily’s son. It can’t be…

“Professor, those are my dorm mates. Four out of five. Think about it; that is the boys, of one year, of one House. What is wrong with the world?”

Severus feels his preconceptions crumbling around him. Thinking of the list of students from his own House, and those who have been uncovered in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, for once he can only agree.

Crush

Ron’s motto is Never Be Normal and yeah, that’s great but I’m thinking about Hiccup and the Gang because… like Astrid once was like “normal for us.” REDEFINE WHAT NORMAL MEANS, I guess? (Hiccup and the Gang’s Normal™ includes dragons and the Thorston twins so…)

In this episode Josh Mankey is played by Breckin Meyer, who was 28 when this episode aired (he’s 43 now). He also later played Jon Arbuckle in the live action Garfield movies.

Man, she’s getting a lot of requests for help. 

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Under normal circumstances, Rua was anything but a patient person, however, he found himself in anything but a normal situation. He laughed at the idea of normal now, once Ruka became a Signer the idea of normal went out the window. Even by redefining his definition of normal to include the Duel Monster Spirits and the war between the Signers and Dark Signers. 

Because he was now one of them.

It was all Divine’s fault, yet when he thought about it… dying to Divine gave him the chance to protect Ruka. So in a way, Rua owed it to Divine, without that fateful duel he wouldn’t have the power to protect Ruka. He’s kept his existence a secret, only appearing with his hood up. He only wanted to duel one person, and that was his sister. So he allowed his fellow Dark Signers deal with the rest, and watched as one fell after another waiting for a moment to strike. 

His patience finally paid off as he stood at the pre-determined site, he was very aware that the rest of the Signers were distracted leaving Ruka the only one remaining. His hood still hid his face as he heard footsteps approaching.

“You came.”


@ancientfairyguardian

When the Moon fell in love with the Sun (All was golden in the sky)

Word Count: 634

Genre: I seriously do not know, fluff I guess, AU and definitely something different.

Warnings: None, except that I wrote this in 15 minutes AND HAVE NOT PROOFREAD IT SO BEWARE ANY GRAMMATICAL/STORY MISTAKES

(Very loosely based off of When the Day Met the Night by P!ATD however I listened to a completely different song while writing it which I think encompasses the mood of the fic better, so click here if you want to listen to my recommended song to listen to while reading this fic)

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The Sun decided one day, that he ought to have a name.

Of course his name was already Sun to the humans he endowed with his bright rays of hope. However, the Sun reasoned, there were plenty of Suns, now that humans had emerged from their caves and finally had started to explore beyond their star system.

And so the Sun gave himself a name, he decided on Phil, the word for friend in the ancient language spoken by humans in a land of oracles and gods two thousand (or was it two hundred thousand?) years ago. For that was the Sun wanted to be, a friend to all who were under his protection.

But Phil decided, that he could not differentiate himself from the rest of the universe, without also giving a name to his constant companion in the heavens of the Earth. The Moon, who silently passed Phil by only when the day was golden, his light gently redefining the possibilities of normal and guarding the human race from on high when darkness took over the Earth.

He decided upon Dan, he who judges, for in the ancient times of land, stone and river, all justice lies and secrets were revealed in the light of the Moon.

All was golden, when the day met the night, and the Sun, for the first time in millennia, spoke with the Moon.

It happened just as the two crossed paths in the twilight of the fading day, Phil said only four words.

“Your name is Dan.”

The moon regarded the sun with liquid copper eyes, watching the horizon from where the setting sun had disappeared long after he had sunk below the far-off mountains at the edge of the world. Dan curled up into a ball as he began to traverse the sky, reflecting the life-giving light of the Sun who had finally given him a meaning

The next time the Moon met the Sun, the Moon asked four words back.

“What is your name?”

“Phil.”

And so the celestial dance of the heavens continued, as simple questions turned into simple conversations, and simple conversations turned into pure, unadulterated laughter, ringing across the sky at dusk.

And as Phil gave Dan the light necessary for him to shine, Dan gave Phil meaning, a reason to keep on glowing.

The celestial bodies shimmered in the sky, the background of their dance sometimes the deep blue of Phil’s eyes, and sometimes the coal black of Phil’s fringe.

Dan waited impatiently for the transition periods to arrive, when all seemed as golden as a dream.

And when Dan sniffled and bit back tears in the night, afraid that Phil might never return from the darkness, Phil was always there at sunrise, waiting with words, then friendly touches, and, eventually, bone-crushing hugs.

The Sun had given the Moon light to shine, just as the Moon had given the Sun a reason to glow.

So it was no surprise that the heavens seared and shimmered when finally they shone together.

Dan rested his forehead against Phil’s, sensing the impending cover of darkness trying to steal away Dan’s fading memory of only milliseconds before, the feeling of Phil’s infinite glow shining against his lips.

Before either could speak however, the moment passed, leaving them to only slip away from each other.

And on the other side of possibly the longest night in an infinite chain, stretching far back into the dusky dreams of beginning, Dan met Phil with a searing crash of their lips against each other and Dan’s breath ghosting three simple words over and over in their limited time in their chain of infinities,

“I love you.”

And all was golden, when the night met the day, when the autumn met the spring, when the Moon met the Sun.

All was golden, when Dan met Phil.

The study, by Katherine M. Flegal and her associates at the C.D.C. and the National Institutes of Health, found that all adults categorized as overweight and most of those categorized as obese have a lower mortality risk than so-called normal-weight individuals. If the government were to redefine normal weight as one that doesn’t increase the risk of death, then about 130 million of the 165 million American adults currently categorized as overweight and obese would be re-categorized as normal weight instead.
— 

Our Imaginary Weight Problem - The New York Times

This is three years old but still not common knowledge.

It would be easy to read the Columbiners’ public performance of extreme sexuality as worrying, especially because the girls involved are so young. But is there really anything new going on here? Teen girl sexuality—like, well, adult human sexuality—can edge up against the dark and the illogical, even when the crush object isn’t a murderer. What’s more disconcerting, perhaps, is being confronted what teen girls, or a subset of teen girls, really want. If a focus group of middle-aged white men got together to design a teen idol, they’d most likely come up with someone who looked a lot like the glossy-haired, button-nosed Bieber. Klebold and Harris, in contrast, are as unmanufactured as you can get. They look like awkward seventeen year-olds from the 90s. Their clothes don’t fit right; they haven’t entirely grown into their faces. Crushing on them is an act of resistance that bonds the Columbiners together.

Because, in the most positive sense, what the Columbiners are doing is working through an obsession with the support of a non-judgmental community. They don’t have to explain themselves to each other, which seems to be a source of great relief. Along with their more explicit or swoony posts, the girls share their anxieties about upcoming history tests and awkward moments in class. They are vocally anti-bully. They upload pictures of themselves and ask if they’re ugly; “you don’t know you’re beautiful,” the Columbiner universe choruses back. Holmies post helpful information about psychosis in between their #dirtyholmiesconfessions, and Columbiners act as one another’s suicide watch. In living out their obsession online, the Columbiners are redefining “normal” teen girl behavior through finding safety in numbers.

—  Rachel Monroe, The Killer Crush: The Horror Of Teen Girls, From Columbiners To Beliebers
The meta-analysis, published this week in The Journal of the American Medical Association, reviewed data from nearly a hundred large epidemiological studies to determine the correlation between body mass and mortality risk. The results ought to stun anyone who assumes the definition of “normal” or “healthy” weight used by our public health authorities is actually supported by the medical literature.

The study, by Katherine M. Flegal and her associates at the C.D.C. and the National Institutes of Health, found that all adults categorized as overweight and most of those categorized as obese have a lower mortality risk than so-called normal-weight individuals. If the government were to redefine normal weight as one that doesn’t increase the risk of death, then about 130 million of the 165 million American adults currently categorized as overweight and obese would be re-categorized as normal weight instead.
Redefining normal

The first gift came the second week of summer.

Her mother had crashed into on an early morning jaunt to the station, having been called in for something or the other before the sun had risen, and her cursing had woken Caroline. At first she had feared her mother was in some sort of mortal peril, dread filling her instantly and Caroline had flashed down to her, fangs bare and ready to fight off the attacker.

She hadn’t expected to find her mother massaging a banged knee as she tried to wipe coffee off her shirt that was already soaked through, all the while glaring at the mini fridge sitting on their porch, a large black ribbon tied around it with a bow on top. Caroline probably shouldn’t have laughed at her mother’s pain, but the sight was comical, even when the glare was directed at her.

“Do I even want to know?” Liz asked, sighing at the fact she would need to change and be even more behind than she was currently. Not to mention the fact that running into the fridge and having coffee spilled all over her had hurt.

Caroline shook her head, not really having an answer for why the mini fridge was sitting on their porch in the first place. Or, well, she had a feeling she knew why it was there and who it was from, but she really didn’t want to hash that out with her mother. “I’ll get it inside and I’ll do the laundry,” Caroline assured her instead, already lifting the fridge from the porch and bringing it to the living room where she had been putting the rest of her ‘bring to college’ items.

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anonymous asked:

For your boyfriend, how has being with Helaine changed your life or you if it has??

Sorry for the delayed response. I got addicted to sunflower seeds. They took over my every waking thought to the point where I couldn’t focus on the important things like my job and relationships. I’ve finally admitted this problem to myself, but even now I have a cheek full of salty heaven electrifying my taste buds. I digress.

I wouldn’t be the man I am today without Helaine, and that is a fact. She truly has no idea how much she has changed me. I know this in the curious way she looks at me when she is trying to figure out what the hell I am thinking, and trust me, she is justified. I can be weird, but then again so can she. Together, we redefine normal. My life couldn’t be this great without her by my side to fuck shit up. Figuratively speaking. See, we don’t trash grocery store parking lots, disorganize clothes in the department store, set fires to cars, or put down people who give us dirty looks. We dance in the parking lot, put things back where we found them, set fireworks on fire, and wave hello to everyone we see. Somehow that seems to go against the status quo in this modern world where so many try to stay quiet as if it helps convey peace to others. It is a blessing to have Helaine in my life so we can show people that it is fun to be socially liberal. She reminds me too. I hope I remind her at times. Undoubtedly, she makes me a better person and my life a better one to live.