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siriusmydeer · 3 years

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a muster of courage

sirius black x muggleborn!gender neutral!reader

summary: sirius is determined to help you through your insecurities.

word count: 1.0k

warnings: self doubt, insecurities, mentions of sirius family, mentions of feeling dumb, crying, hurt/comfort? idk i wrote this when i was half asleep

it was nearly silent, the dormitory left with one remaining student where the only noises could be heard were the scratches of a quill colliding against a parchment, small sniffs emitting from your nostrils after the wipe of your palm against your nose, and the small hiccups rolling off your tongue after the newest submerge of tears you were susceptible too.

the feeling of hot tears descending from your optics and carving their way down the flesh of your cheeks, the small streaks of stygian black almost embedding into your skin whilst you stared upon the parchment in front of you.

the scratches abruptly went silent, your quill was thrown to the side of your mahogany desk. the small smear of ink following in the ivory quills wake. the contrast of black and white was the only thing remaining in your viewpoint from the cascaded tears that were now sinking into the parchment.

your digits now painted in smudges onto the pads of the fingers that were left to stain. a minuscule aide-memoire till you showered of your failures.

there was an inappreciable creak articulating from the door hinges of your dormitory, similar to a small cue that someone had entered. a few padded footsteps following in its aftermath, your mind utterly ignoring the entry. the bleating sirens in your head only taking it upon themselves to stare upon the essay you were practically refusing to complete frustration.

a meagrely recurrent sniff escaped your nose, subtle congestion building up in your sinus’ from the downpour of grievance that waved through the panel of your nervous system whilst you lingered your bleary stare upon the paper.

you felt the warmth of a calloused palm splayed on the frigid temperature of your cheek, looking ascent you were met with a pair of sterling irises. the agile look of confusion sprawled across sirius’ face in reaction to your weary state.

he caressed your face with the warm pad of his thumb, the homely feeling melding into your skin, bringing your erratic heart rate to distrait peace for just a moment. his brows sunk to the middle of his face, small creases started to imbed in his forehead before speaking, “baby, baby, what’s happened?” the words spilled off his tongue in a jumble of letters thoroughly coated in fright at the tears trudged down your cheeks.

sirius knelt to your level, his knees hitting the floorboard with a subtle creaking in the wood. his thumb faintly swiping against the dermis of your skin, gathering the tears that remained streaked onto your flesh. the peach hue of his skin was a swirling mix of shades against the mascara that had been smeared under my eyes now reveling against the pad of his thumb.

it felt like there was a continuous ping pong ball bouncing around in your brain, resembling a sled hammer that was rough around the edges knocking on every nook and cranny there was in your mind, from the continued amount of tears that had spilled from your irises that now lay on the ivory parchment.

it felt like you were close to deteriorating, this occurring feeling from the spillage that left your irises. this perception was equivalent to an inability to apprehend your schoolwork that had been assigned to your classmates, that you were downright useless and unable to partake in the school you had attended for years.

similar to how a fifth-grade muggle student would be compared to albert einstein in a classroom setting, no muggle-born was made for a school for primary and elite wizard families like lucius malfoy or regulus black. you may as well have been a muggle.

there was a faint voice that brought you out of your demeaning thoughts, “what’s going on in that head of yours?” he faintly whispered in delicacy of your state. you looked down in shame, he was a pureblood, gryffindor prankster and the only people who had problems with him had demeaning envy to be him.

you had considered yourself lucky, out of all the peers of hogwarts he had grasped your hand with intimacy and called you, his. now you sat alone in your room weeping in self-pity over your inability to understand certain concepts of defense against the dark arts.

“i just feel, i feel so utterly useless! that i’m just a foolish muggle-born who can’t do anything right, and those pureblood gits are right about me!” you spastically hiccuped between your words, the spillage of letters coming directly from your subconscious insecurities in-front of the gryffindor male.

your words almost medley and weltered from how dreadfully daft you felt.

sirius's eyes were enormously wide at your shameful confession you had just admitted, his voice stuttering before he spoke. “useless— you belong here more than anyone else, muggle-born or not. 'm here to help, i may be daft at school but i’ll learn, for you. you're not stupid, nor useless!”

it took a considerable amount of time to scrummage his words from the palpitating muscle in his chest to you. the indescribable urge to muster his adorning love for you was indefinite, but the blockage of his past having a considerable amount of weight on his shoulders making it particularly difficult at times like these to describe his feelings.

“baby. 'm gonna help you, you don’t need to go through this by yourself.”

the delicacy of his crooning made your heart skip a beat, the maneuvering of his body so you could sit on the burly muscles of his thigh in an attempt to get you in a more comfortable setting.

there would always be a swirling fear of failure weighed on the platter of your subconscious mind, but the gryffindor boy would always endeavor the courage to tap on your nose and remind you that your entity wasn’t purely being a muggle-born.

and you were to remember his words every time.

taglist: @fific7 @wisedreamcatcher @kittykylax @ronbrokemyheart @aspiringsloth20 @georgeswh0re @amourtentiaa @msmb @fangouria @five-cups-of-coffee @dracofknmalfoy @emmaev @serenitywilderness @i-love-scott-mccall @artemis1orion @falling-loki @siriusbarnesslut @inglourious-imagines @famdomhideout @hufflepogue @kirascottage @luvvninaz @miraclesoflove @black-like-my-soul @slytherclawbitch

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quercussp · 3 years

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I got an ask meme ask yesterday about whether I believe in mermaids and I said “I believe we’ve only explored 5% of the ocean so who the fuck can say what is or isnt down there! Do I believe they’ll look like this—🧜‍♀️🧜🧜‍♂️? Doesn’t feel super likely but also who am I to say, some kind of marine biologist or someone who, it Cannot be stressed enough, is dumb😘” buuuuut you need distraction and also know way more about the ocean than I do, so thoughts? 🤗

as a biologist i would be very skeptical of mermpeople the way they are portrayed in pictures. they have hair, which means they are a mammal (only mammals have real hair), but that means quite a lot of consequences on the way their excretion would work, as well as that fish scales are not compatible with the type of dermis mammals have. there’s a reason marine mammals don’t have scales but instead have really thick skin and brown fat that allows them to metabolize water out of food (mammals excretion works in a way that’s adapted to living on land, so it’s very hard to excrete stuff in a salty environment, basically they need to waste a whole bunch of fresh water to do it but they don’t have access to it in the ocean. it’s complicated)

on the other hand, humans are technically fish so if you want to see all of us as merpeople you’re welcome to.

#thank you <3 #this was a great distractoin #awholehalfalready

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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 5 years

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Since The Marlies

Author: Nat / @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested: Yes – Anonymous X2

Fandom: NHL

Relationship: Platonic; Kasperi Kapanen x Reader x William Nylander

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Kas and Will since they were on the Marlies.

Word Count: 750

Warnings: None.

“Going out tonight?” Mitch asked Willy after the 4-3 OT win over the Caps. The guys usually went out after a win (or a brutal loss) and Willy was usually the life of the party, but he had other plans for the night.

He shook his head. “Sorry man, can’t. Kas and I are hanging with (Y/N) tonight, we’re going to get her smashed.”

You had been friends with Will and Kas since they were on the Marlies and the three of you had only gotten closer over the years. Really, the three of you were inseparable and Will and Kas often blew the team off after games to go chill or party with you. You told them time and time again that they should be with their team and not you, but neither of them knew how to listen.

(You learned that the hard way… There had been way too many times that you had to go rescue one or both of them because they didn’t take the “it’s a bad idea” threat seriously and ended up in a sticky situation…)

But you loved them regardless.

Mitch stopped pulling the tape off his socks. “Are you serious?”

Willy shrugged and looked over to Kas who shrugged back. “Yeah?”

“It was your OT goal that won the game, and you won’t even come party with us?” Mitch continued.

Willy laughed. “I would love to, you know I love to party, but I’m not bailing on (Y/N). I’d die before I did that.” He said with a smile.

It was far from the first time Will and Kappy had bailed on the guys after a game. Between practices and games and road trips, they didn’t get to spend that much time with you and they were going to spend as much time with you as they could, you were their best friend.

“Who’s winning?” You asked the boys when you walked into Willy’s place and found them in a game of Chel.

“Me.” Said Willy at the same time Kas said “not me.”

You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag by the door before walking behind the couch and hopping over the back to sit between the two of them so you wouldn’t block the screen. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’ll beat him eventually.” Kas grumbled.

Will snorted. “Yeah, right.”

You reached your hand out to Kas, looking for the controller. You had played Chel a lot since becoming friends with them years ago and you liked to think that you actually got pretty good. Kas grumbled more and handed the controlled over to you.

“That’s cheating!” Will complained.

“You’re playing me with a three goal lead, that’s cheating.” You pointed back, making Will shut his mouth.

You still won the game.

“What team are you cheering for, Finland or Sweden?” Will asked you, referring to the upcoming world juniors.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Canada.”

It was Will and Kappy’s turn to roll their eyes. “Okay, I mean, that’s dumb but whatever. Who are you cheering for between Finland and Sweden?”

“And there’s only one right answer.” Kas butted in, leaning across the table, pushing Will back.

You laughed at your idiot friends and shook your head. “I’m not cheering for either of them and it doesn’t matter because Canada will win.”

“But—” Both of them tried.

“No ‘buts’, Canada is the best and Canada will win.” You said, sipping your drink.

“So does Willy always win at Chel?” You heard Mitch ask Kappy while you were in the kitchen. You were over at Kas’ when the other boys showed up. You were going to leave, but Kas and Will gave you puppy dog eyes and you could never say no to them.

“Not always,” you said walking into the living room and sitting next to Kas. “Sometimes I beat Willy.”

Dermy snickered. “She beats you at Chel?”

Will shrugged from his sport in the arm chair. “She’s really good, why is that a problem?”

Travis stopped laughing at Willy’s tone. Will and Kas were always super protective of you. They knew what the world was like, what some of the hockey players were like, and you were a beautiful young lady, they didn’t want anyone taking advantage of you or making fun of you.

“What? No? Of course not, I just thought it was funny that… Never mind…” Travis trailed off.

“Mhm.” Kas hummed and threw his arm over your shoulder.

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encyclopika · 4 years

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Fish Fin Ray Structure

Got a great question from @jellojolteon on today’s “Fish Explained”. And please feel free to send these questions to my ask - there are no dumb questions here!

So JelloJolteon asks: If the fin rays aren’t bone are they...cartilage?

I thought I knew this one, but because I haven’t been in a bio class since 2015, and my job doesn’t focus on fish physiology, I went and did some research so I could answer this. And I’m glad I did, because the answer was a bit elusive. >__>

So, anyway, what are bony fish fin rays made of? First, let’s talk about what they ARE. Fin rays are modified fish scales and they come in two forms - spines and soft rays. Spines are very sharp and hard, like needles (I have been pricked by fish spines too many times haha). Lots of fish have them to protect themselves from predators, and sometimes, like in the lionfish, they are hollow to store venom. Soft rays, on the other hand, are unlike spines in that they are very flexible, segmented, and can be branched to support the membrane between them (and therefore aid the fish in swimming). Fish scales, and therefore the fin rays, are derived from what’s called “dermal bone” which, despite how it’s implied, is not the same as the bone making up the inner skeleton (the bones inside the coelacanth’s fin and the fin rays of say, the goldfish, just aren’t the same thing). Think turtle shells. Dermal bone does not form from cartilage and then calcify like our inner skeleton, according to my sources. Instead, it originates in the dermis (skin) and grows by accretion, or layering over time as the animal grows. For fish spines/rays, the main component appears to be calcium phosphate (this dermal bone structure is called the lepidotrichia) with additional protective layers of collagen and/or keratin.

(If anyone has anything to add or correct, please do and I’ll edit. This is as true as to the best of my knowledge and an hour of research.)

Thanks for the question! ^__^ We’ll definitely talk more about fins when we talk about the zebra turkey fish, a type of lionfish, in the Fish Explained!

#fish #marine biology #fins #marine science #biology #encyclopika talk

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jopok-krp · 4 years

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Welcome to Jopok! Please follow the admin twitter within 48 hours of acceptance, or your faceclaim will be freed up

Personality:

anxiety-ridden yet forcibly optimistic are two wonderful ways to describe minju. he knows the world is unforgiving and lives that reality each and every day, but he searches deeply within himself to find different reasons — no matter how small — to stay hopeful and keep going. he tries to remain a sunshine in a world full of clouds threatening to overshadow him and finds solace whenever his dumb antics are able to bring even the slightest of smiles to others’ faces.

minju is someone who may be considered an enigma. he trusts too easily or not at all, smiles and laughs one minute and cries and shakes the next. outwardly, he displays a lawfully neutral attitude with a bit of chaos here and there (caused mostly by bad decisions, but that’s okay), and he’s far more confident around those he knows well or when hiding behind a screen. embarrassing situations make him become shy and quiet — sometimes even anxious, in which case he either shuts his mouth entirely or rambles on while running his words together.

Background:

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐜.

born to an unfortunate family in gimpo near its borders with incheon, hyeseong was the middle child of two others — an older brother and a younger sister. he was a bright child that loved to visit the han river and wobble as close to the bank as possible, all smiles and giggles: a naturally born optimist, really. even when he had to look to his brother for reassurance rather than his mother or father, he forced his tears away in favor of accepting his sibling’s kind words — and then, he would pass them down to his sister. far too young to understand his reality, he passed his time thinking of these circumstances as normal.

the few times he saw his parents, they were either getting ready to leave for their daily one hour trip to seoul (“we have to go to work, honey. we love you.”) or just arriving home during the latest hours of the night from a draining day at their office job (“go to sleep, hyeseong. it’s late.”). and again, he was far too young to understand that desk work didn’t produce these kinds of issues — nor did they leave an odd smell on clothing, nor did they make adults so cold to their children, and nor did they have to be stationed in seoul rather than gimpo or even incheon.

fast forward to age six, and a whole new level of excitement occurred: moving to seoul. his parents told him it was necessary to be closer to their workplace, that it would give them time to actually bond with him and his siblings. although brimming with anticipation, he could see the frown on his brother’s face; it confused him, but he chalked it up to a bad mood (a continuous one, at that) and helped his cute kid sister pack all of her broken and stitched stuffies without a single complaint.

they didn’t spend more time with him, but that was okay.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟-𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲.

the shortage brought about its own set of issues. hyeseong was ten when it began, and the change was anything but subtle. suddenly, resources were scarce for everyone around him — and yet, somehow, his family seemed to be doing okay. maybe they were richer than he thought, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on the looks in his family’s eyes: his brother, questioning; his sister, confused; his father, determined; his mother, cold.

cold became a recurring theme as time dragged on, and the han river was but a distant memory. the world was ruining his life, yet he managed to smile through it. he could tell that his brother didn’t fare as well, at least on the outside. the silence was suffocating, but it was far more suffocating every time his brother spoke; everything was pessimistic, hateful, biting. because of this, he became the rock. it was him that had to look carefree and pretend everything was okay, and that wasn’t easy — not at thirteen years old, not for someone so inwardly sensitive, and certainly not whenever his parents were actually home. instead of him staying up to await their return, it became his brother; hyeseong knew this only because of the loud, heated arguments he could hear occurring in the earliest hours of the morning. he tried to hide from it — bury his head under the pillow and blankets, let his sister come to his bed and cover her ears as well. unfortunate, then, that he could still hear mostly everything. these harsh words were never directed at him, but they stung all the same (“stupid fucks, you’re taking all of our lives away!”).

he was sixteen when everything finally clicked for him — or maybe, he just stopped denying it. his sleep schedule hardly existed, and the things he heard throughout the night were far from peaceful silence. hushed whispers of casinos, of drugs, of gambling — all of it pointed to obvious illegal activity, and with the world in such disarray… well, he knew what that meant. he only prayed his sister didn’t know, and, in many ways, he was grateful to his brother for not telling him. finally, he fully understood the phrase ‘ignorance is bliss’.

hyeseong tried to pretend everything was normal — really, he did. he offered his sister the same bright, reassuring smiles and attended high school just as he had before. it was nothing short of difficult, especially after his brother graduated high school and immediately left the nest; that made him the oldest, the one that had to be even more responsible than before — and with that came the decision to talk to his parents. maybe, just maybe, he could make them stop all of this that way or, at the very least, gain an understanding of why.

he bid his sister goodnight around eleven and waited around in the living room until he heard the tell-tale click of the lock announcing his guardians’ arrival. it was four in the morning when he sat at the kitchen table across from them with cold stares boring into him. the conversation, as one could imagine, didn’t seem to go well.

( you’re in a gang.

okay.

why?

okay.

do you care at all?

okay.

please.

a pause, and then— it’s for protection. we help them, and they help us.

so, those people you—

are in one, too. yes.

—and—

we can’t leave gemini, hyeseong. we would be without everything.

but i don’t— care about that. we— i don’t even know your personalities, and you’re my parents. i want to see you! i want to know that we live normally! i want—

goodnight. )

hyeseong went to bed with wet cheeks and teary eyes.

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬.

little by little, things were getting better. it was strange seeing his parents home more often — even stranger, then, that they would try to actively seek him and his sister out just to ‘hang out’ with them. over the course of two years, it became a routine to see them home and waiting with welcoming arms (and smiles that told both a happy and stressed tale; eyes that contained a million little puzzle pieces hyeseong could never dream of putting together; movements that were somewhat stiff and uncertain).

( it was subtle at first. his mother and father came home four days out of the week rather than three, and then the hours changed. four in the morning to three, three to twelve, and then— home during daylight hours. )

both hyeseong and his sister couldn’t have been happier with the change. their resources grew thinner, but neither of them cared; what mattered most was the beautiful reality of finally feeling like a real family. if only their eldest brother was there to see it.

the attractiveness of their new situation lasted throughout those two years and screeched to a startling halt within a few months of hyeseong turning eighteen. he was in his last few months of high school at that time, and the best part of his day was easily coming home to see his sister (who was growing up so well; he couldn’t have been more fond of someone even if he tried) and parents doing mundane things — cooking, cleaning, or watching tv, usually.

he knocked on the door just like any other day to announce his arrival and waited.

and waited.

nothing.

so, he tried to push the door open himself— and it worked. he thought it odd, considering his parents were always sticklers about keeping it locked ‘just in case’.

it hit him in steps.

first: the smell— not drugs, but blood. he scrunched his nose as soon as the door slowly swung open, nostrils flaring and eyebrows knitting together in a shocked state of confusion.

second: the feeling— not some kind of odd substance leftover from possible cooking, but again: blood. the lights were off, and his vision was far from good enough to see anything other than two feet in front of him. he turned on the light switch to the right side of the door and felt a somewhat wet, sticky sensation on his finger. his confusion doubled into alarm.

third: the sight— not a happy family sitting together, but corpses stained red. his eyes darted from his mother to his father, forced to take all of it in. he could see their bodies full of holes and deep cuts that tore through the skin— especially on their arms. far too crisply was the word “traitor” engraved; it tore through the dermis all the way to bone in some areas. he closed his eyes as soon as he regained control of himself, violent shakes passing through him each and every second until he fell to his knees and sobbed.

this wasn’t what he wanted when he talked to them that night.

he didn’t want to clumsily navigate through a house tainted red (it was so much— so much, everywhere), didn’t want to find his sister on the other end of the house slowly bleeding out and immobile from her injuries, didn’t want to hold her knowing her heartbeat was already so slow that there was no hope— and most of all, he didn’t want to have to figure out what to do after the fact.

his mind went far too many miles per minute for him to figure out what would be best. instead, he did the first thing his fight or flight response came up with: he ran.

he put his bloodied jacket over his sister’s corpse and ran until he couldn’t anymore.

it was lucky for him, then, that his steps took him to a restaurant his parents mentioned multiple times in the past. he was out of options; he couldn’t leave seoul without any means to long-term, couldn’t call the police because he was certain his fingerprints were everywhere and his mental state wouldn’t allow him to explain anything, couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen and just continue on — so, of course, his mind led him to that place to see the one man he thought could help him in some way.

that meeting wasn’t an easy one, and hyeseong hadn’t realized at the time that he’d sold his soul away in pursuit of a life he would never receive.

𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐜.

lee hyeseong does not exist any longer — at least, he doesn’t to those who don’t know the name from past associations. he left that name along with his worries, or so that’s what he hoped; instead, the past haunts him every passing day. it doesn’t matter that he eventually picked himself up enough to get an apartment, and nor does it matter that he landed a job at a local cafe just to feel some semblance of normality.

the man that saved him is the very one that keeps him trapped. minju’s existence quickly devolved into one of servitude (do this, do that, don’t get caught, speak my name and your life is over), and sometimes he swears he can feel eyes piercing through him at the weirdest times. he knows now that he was mistaken to believe anyone associated with his parents in the past would have an ounce of kindness in their heart.

kwon minju is just a boy that was eaten by the world and spat back out as a flickering flame.

#JOPOK : acceptance

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