#my poor baby with social anxiety

[reyenii]

i love don and the look on his face in this scene. the way he almost doesn't understand what he needs to do until the end. like “what’s happening??😦😦😦should i get up and start singing???😲😲😲 i dont get it☹️☹️☹️☹️”

[bloodstainsontengensfloor]

In another universe, I was good at Math and into STEM.

In this other universe though, I’m Reagan Ridley.

[stinkrascal]

i could write a 2 hour video essay on why the stardew valley fandom is wrong for hating clint

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i love her but i can’t imagine wanting to go to a taylor swift concert

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Following Friday’s events, Eddie Munson was on a mission to apologize to you, though everything fell short when your life began to crumble in a matter of hours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, self-deprecating thoughts, violence, experienced anxiety and panic attack, mentions of childhood abuse and neglect, and brief mentions of blood, body shaming, and non consensual touching.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to need all of you to ignore the blatantly unrealistic process of making a book in this story, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

Whatever mantra of the Munson Doctrine Eddie had been feeding himself to believe about the highest of the social hierarchy embedded within Hawkins High was really starting to fall short, specifically when your pretty face started monopolizing every one of his thoughts imaginable. 

As much as he’d like to admit otherwise, Eddie Munson liked staring at your face, and it was really starting to piss him off just how much he really liked doing it. And the situation only became worse when he steadily watched your wonted bewitching smile fade into a disheartened look of dejection, because that following weekend after your impromptu photo shoot with Hellfire, became the worst week of your life.

And Eddie Munson watched it entirely unravel right in front of him.

It never really occurred to Eddie just how much he’d casually gawk at you prior to said photo shoot. I mean, you were the face of the school, of course, you were hard to miss when you practically lit up the halls with your smile. And that’s merely what Eddie had chalked it up to; your popularity involuntarily placed you at the forefront of his attention. It wasn’t the small strands of baby hairs that perfectly framed your face, whether you decided to keep your hair natural, or styled it for the fun of it; it wasn’t your enthralling eyes that seemed to almost squint close because your cheeks became so full of delight with your spellbinding laugh; and it definitely wasn’t your apologetic reassurance that everything was okay to the kid from the drama club who accidentally bumped into you, causing you to drop your books, and you gave Andy McAvoy a stern talking to when he tried to defend your honor with violence against the poor kid. 

No, it was none of that that caught Eddie Munson’s attention to you (he forced himself to believe).

But now, things are different.

He’d actually gotten a chance to talk to you—yes, that cafeteria instance was the first time Eddie Munson had ever actually spoken to you, and he berated you with dehumanizing comments—and he blew it with his rash decision to automate you into a box of prissy cheerleaders that had nothing better to do than gossip with their friends- ah yes, that box, that was formulated by sexist losers who used it to justified their mean actions against innocent teenage girls. Oh, fuck, Eddie cringed to himself at the sudden self-realization. 

He had to fix this. He didn’t even have to confess his feelings—which, he didn’t have *cough* *cough*—he just had to apologize for his mistakes. What he wanted to believe to be patronizing was actually sincere on your part, and you didn’t deserve any of his degrading tirade. And his conscience was letting it be known. Resuming the campaign had been a shit-show that Friday, when all he could focus on was your crying face. It became even worse when he realized that he’d never actually seen you drive—always painfully third-wheeling with Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham, or silently pleading to Patrick McKinney to control Andy McAvoy when he felt entitled to nonconsensually feel you up in his convertible when they drove you to school—meaning you were probably left crying alone at night waiting to be picked up, or worse, walking home. And you did it just for him. For his friends. To be included in some stupid fucking yearbook, because he made a big deal out of it in the first place.  

Oh, shit, he was an awful fucking person, Eddie thought.  

So, come Monday morning, he would apologize. He had all weekend to find the right words, rehearse his apology to perfection, and plan when to actually say it to you. 

But Eddie Munson never got to correctly apologize to you on Monday. 

Because aforementioned, Monday was the start of the worst week of your life, and he got scared and simply watched everything happen.

- 

“No running in the halls, young lady.” Mr. Long sternly reminded, as you zoomed past him.

“Sorry, sir.” You weren’t sorry. The second he turned the corner, you picked up the pace and ran to the newspaper room, frantically attempting to shove the slender key into the slot with shaky hands. 

Earlier on Saturday, the Yearbook Committee had worked to finish the final draft of the Hawkins High 1986 Yearbook, and with the team’s effort, you all concluded the first official copy that held the recognition of all staff and students intertwined with a school year’s worth of memorabilia, squished between the glossy green and orange cover that encapsulated Hawkins High. 

And now, you were about to destroy it. 

Sixty minutes. You had sixty minutes. You managed to wake up early that Monday morning, practically running to school, and situating yourself within the newspaper room—sweaty and exhausted—an hour early before the bell rang to commence the school day. In truth, you’d like to say you were a badass, and demolished the yearbook with no regrets, but reality had quite literally sucked, and you were panicking for a solid five minutes before you came to a consensus. 

It had to be destroyed- well, not destroyed, just unbinded. God, you were such a dramatic coward. 

See, that Saturday afternoon with the Yearbook Committee, you had done your part, you really did. You gathered photos, helped have them printed, assisted Nancy Wheeler with the placement of pages, and took over binding the book together when Fred Benson’s scrawny hands cramped into oblivion. You also may have—very discreetly—had Hellfire’s picture printed, created an entirely new page to fit them between the Glee and Math Club, and it was then you realized you didn’t even know half of their names. It had never occurred to you on Friday night that—with the exception of Eddie Munson, Lucas Sinclair, and Mike Wheeler—you never caught the names of the other four members, prompting you to lose precious time after having to locate their stupid names in the student registry for identification—they weren’t stupid, you were just really frustrated at that point.

And now, on this fine Monday morning, you persevered through blistering callouses, contracting muscles, and sore knuckles to unbind and bind back the yearbook with an additional page within the “Hawkins High’s Clubs” recognitional section.

Hellfire’s page.

And it was perfect. 

The pages were still intact with their crisp stiffness of that of a newly unopened book, and you cleaned off any smudges that impaired the quality of work within the creation. You stood back. You couldn’t help the soft giggle that left your lips at the mere sight of Hellfire sticking out like a sore thumb against the formality of the other photos—in true Hellfire fashion. But there it was. Their title, their photo, and their names that gave them the minimal ask to simply be acknowledged in a school that consistently disregarded their beings, and you were happy they finally got it. They deserved it. Even if Friday’s event left you crying alone in your bed feeling awful. It was worth it. Your thumb gently caressed the smooth page of their photo—Eddie’s photo—and reminisced on that night.

Had you actually done something terrible? Was Eddie right to call you out on your actions? You certainly knew you hadn’t caused this entire commotion out of pitiness, though you understood where he may have interpreted it as such. I mean, even though you never did anything, your friends made his life a living hell, villainizing his differences, casting him as a danger to society, affecting his life beyond just a superficial high school social life. It was true torment. 

You understood the facade which Eddie Munson had to put on to protect himself, but what you didn’t understand was the sudden shallowness that appeared when you thought you proved yourself to be more than just a ditzy cheerleader. Why were you even trying to prove yourself to some guy? Eddie Munson was an awful person. Right? He yelled at you, judged you, degraded you, and all for nothing- well, as far as you knew. So yeah, Eddie Munson was an awful person. You may have understood him, but he was still an asshole. You’d done your part, adding Hellfire to the yearbook, and that was that. That was all you needed to do. You no longer had to think about his stupid feelings, his stupid hair—which you totally didn’t want to run your hands through—his stupid brown eyes that made you shutter as they bore into yours, and his stupidly beautiful smile. You also kinda wondered how his hands might feel on your-

“What are you doing here?”

Jesus Christ, how long has Nancy Wheeler been standing there? You didn’t even hear the door open. 

“Uh, um, j-just looking at the, uh, yearbook?” You mumbled. You wished you had better control over your facial expressions, because right now, Nancy Wheeler was eyeing the fuck out of your worried guise. 

“You came to school early just to see the yearbook?” She questioned. 

“W-well, yeah, I mean, isn’t that why you’re here early? …Right?” You prayed.

Nancy blinked. “Yeah, I guess, just had to make sure everything was correct before Fred takes it to make copies.”

“Oh, Fred’s here?” You piqued with interest. 

Fred Benson didn’t actually pique your interest all too much—though, it was quite fascinating seeing how fast his slender fingers would cramp after just a couple minutes of working—but he did give the perfect escape from Nancy Wheeler’s captious glare. 

“Uh, yeah, he’s out front waiting for the book-”

“I’ll hand it to him!” You interjected, watching her face scrunch with confusion. You could only awkwardly laugh, “You know me and Fred,” you zoomed right past her, “just always so, uh… tight.” And you left without further explanation. 

Shoving Mr. Long’s word of chastisement right up his ass, you ran down the empty hall, yearbook held tightly in your tired hands, as you rejected any of Nancy’s calls for you to come back. Reaching the double glass doors, you spotted Fred mindlessly tweaking with his camera in the front seat of his car.

“Fred!” You could visibly make out the bewildered “huh” that fell from his gaping mouth from your sudden appearance. “Fred, here take this and go!” You shoved the yearbook past the small crack of his window. 

“W-wait, didn’t Nancy want to che-”

“No, she sent me to give this to you!” You urged. “And she said go now, or else the copies won’t be done in time!” My god, the entirety of this situation had you lying more than you ever had in your life. 

“But the distributors don’t close until six-”

“Fred, I don’t care!” You whined. “Do you really want to make Nancy upset?!” If your calculations were correct, Nancy Wheeler’s flats were currently speed walking—she was one to follow the rules—past Mrs. Durberry’s science classroom, meaning you had ten more seconds until she appeared. 

“Well, n-no-”

“Then drive! Now, please!” He scrambled to turn his car on, and luckily, the old piece of junk managed to roar alive with a heavy blow of carbon dioxide, and you heaved watching Fred Benson skirt past the incoming wave of students on bikes and cars, leaving tire tracks on the cracked pavements. When he came back, you’d be sure to apologize for demanding him so aggressively.

Nancy Wheeler screamed your name. 

Turning around, she came pummeling towards you with a might of pure irritation. “What the hell was that?! I didn’t even get to check the book!”

You huffed with exhaustion. It was only 8:18 a.m and it had already been a long day. “Nance, come on, I’ve been on the Yearbook Committee for the last three years, don’t you trust me by now?” Admittedly, guilting Nancy probably wasn’t the best option, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I don’t care how long you’ve been in the committee, I have the authority to make final calls, not you!” Gee, you really had an act for getting people to yell in your face. Were you actually the problem?

“Look, I understand, but I promise everything was perfect with the yearbook. I mean, come on, you saw the finished product on Saturday when we completed it.” You reasoned. 

Nancy took a deep breath to regulate herself. “This is your only strike.” She pointed a finger at you like a child. “You pull something like this again, and you're off the committee. Understand?”

You swallowed thickly. The trouble you went through just for Eddie Munson- his friends. Just for his friends. “Yes, I understand.” You submitted quietly. “But I promise, the book was fine, everything is going to be perfectly okay.”

Everything was not perfectly okay.

Because unlike your little white lie of being “tight” with Fred Benson, he actually was with Nancy Wheeler, and, boy, did he rat you out when he paged through the printed copies of the yearbook and found the seven believed satanic cultists mischievously smiling right back at him, tainting the committee’s precious work. 

-

It was in the midst of your A.P U.S History class when the staticy call of your name over the intercom interrupted Mr. Whitney’s lecture of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, and prompted you to the principal’s office at 10:57 a.m. Now, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Principal Higgins to often call you down as you were a valued student representative of Hawkins High, though you quickly knew your visitation had nothing in relation to an honor medal or scholarship award. No, it became quite evident that such subject matter was beyond any congratulations to you, because upon entering, you were faced with a choleric Nancy Wheeler, displeased Principal Higgins, and timid Fred Benson. You were fucking screwed, I mean, Principal Higgins quite literally had a yearbook in his hand. Crazy part of it all is that a good third of your being actually believed you may have gotten away with it, but they managed to find out in a matter of two fucking hours. Who were you kidding?

There was only so much nonchalant-ness you could mask, though your previous revelation of being unable to control your facial expressions was really biting you in the ass, and your insistent cracking under pressure was palpable. 

Your wide eyes flashed between everyone as they stared you down. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t even manage to speak. And they didn’t speak. Why wasn’t anyone speaking?

“Aw, you miss me already, Higgy-”

Everyone’s attention snapped at Eddie’s sneering voice as he strutted his grand entrance, though he was quick to flinch back in surprise when he saw everyone looking at him. And you, shit you were here! You were here looking at him. He’d been searching for you all morning just to apologize, and now you were here… with everyone… why was everyone here?

“Now that I have everyone situated,” Principal Higgins cleared his throat, “I’d like to clear up a matter that has been brought to my attention. I’m sure as you all are well aware of, an unauthorized change has been made to our yearbook and I’m looking to get to the bottom of it.” Higgins turned to you, “Ms. Y/L/N,” he spoke with such care, “this is a safe place for honesty. Did Mr. Munson subject you into making these changes?” With a dramatic slam to his desk, the yearbook was turned open to showcase Hellfire’s designated spot on the page.

“What?!” Both you and Eddie questioned in unison. 

“I didn’t “subject” her to shit!” He was quick to rightfully defend. 

“Language!” Principal Higgins was even quicker to yell back. 

The atmosphere was taut, and it felt like their judgmental stares were swallowing you into an endless blackhole of utter disappointment and failure. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to meet their gaze, simply staring at the old rug beneath your sneakers, wishing it’d come alive and consume you already. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, is that true?” Principal Higgins lectured you.

A part of Eddie actually wished you would have lied and accused him of being the aggressor while you were the helpless victim, because that was the usual reality of Eddie Munson: to be denigrated. It would have justified his previous beratement against you from Friday, it would have supported his initial beliefs about you, it would have cleared him of being an asshole, and most of all, it would have changed the way he viewed you, from a genuinely beautiful person inside and out that took a sincere interest in bringing simple recognition to him and his friends to a cold-hearted superficial bitch that chalked up this elaborate plan as a vendetta with your jock friends.

But Eddie Munson knew you weren’t like that.

Which only made it hurt worse when he watched you pain through the sting of your manicured nails stabbing into your palms and your teeth sinking into your tender lip.

“Y-yes, that’s, uh, true, sir.” Your voice was so delicate, Eddie was ready to jump in and just take the blame. “He didn’t make me do anything, it was, uh, all me. I lied, and made him and his friends take the photo. And, well, I, uh, added the page and told Fred to print it.”

You shuddered at the sudden slap of the book, as Principal Higgins closed it with much despondency against you. “And is there valid reasoning as to why?!” Principal Higgins wasn’t one to be known for his placidness and he was quick to make that apparent. “You are the best student at this establishment, you should not be falling under influence of a hooligan like Mr. Munson! How have you fallen so naive all of a sudden?!”

You were really tugging on Eddie’s heart the way your eyes grew round with panic, completely helpless to the grown man scolding you, just as he did last Friday. And while he may have caused it the initial time, he’d be damned to watch it happen to you again.

“Hey, look, you can insult me all you want, but you don’t have to yell at her like she made some dire mistake!” Eddie lambasted Principal Higgins, far more harsh than any regular tone Eddie used when he was regularly being reprimanded. 

Higgins could only scoff in disbelief. “Vandalizing school property isn’t a mistake to you, Mr. Munson?! Well, given your grotesque track record of uncivilized activities, it seems as though I’ve answered my own question!” He sneered back with intended offense.

“Please, ‘vandalizing school property?!’” Eddie mocked. “She fucking put our picture in the yearbook, and for good reason, too. You’re the one at fault here, excluding students from recognition!”

The thudding sound of your heartbeat was completely muting you from the onslaught of shouts that was suffocating you in the tight room. While Nancy Wheeler was beginning to contemplate if telling Principal Higgins was too far, Fred Benson was merely watching with joy that none of the blame was being casted on him, and you, well, your body was racking with stiffness, as it suddenly felt like your airway was tightening every breath out of you. Your hands began shaking by your side, unable to control the instantaneous wave of trepidation, as everything was beginning to blur around you. 

And no one was noticing. 

“I have rightful reasons to exclude your gang of misfits from my yearbook!” Principal Higgins walked from his desk, standing against Eddie with pure spite in his eyes. “You and your posse of cons and aberrations have done nothing but taint the reputation of our school and town, running around like imbeciles who have nothing better to do than waste their lives away! And I will not stand to have you be associated with the work I’ve done to correct this school from delinquents like yourself!”

Chest heaving and nostrils flared, the Eddie Munson from the cafeteria instance was back, though angrier, and he was two seconds from actually gaining an assault charge from hitting Principal Higgins square in the face. But the older man was quick to turn, and eject his dissonant castigate towards you. 

“And you, missy!” Your eyes were blinking posthaste with fret to control the swell of tears that were burning your eyes, at the clashing outburst being directed against you. “How did you even gain the facilities to take such picture?!” 

Your mouth was dry with consternation, unable to formulate words, and simply quivering your mouth open.

And unlucky for you, Fred Benson spoke for you.

“After our yearbook meeting on Friday,” heads snapped at his gravelly voice, “she said she was going to stay after to work, and that she would lock up herself. She must have taken the key, and stolen a camera.”

Higgins scoffed with great disgust as he judged you, before turning to Nancy. “Ms. Wheeler, as president of the Yearbook Committee, had you permitted her to do so?” 

Nancy looked at you with guilt. She hadn’t anticipated the situation to blow up this much, though she spoke honestly to the authoritative eyes of Higgins. “Uh, no, I didn’t.” She meekly answered. 

“And Mr. Munson,” Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to control his frustrations before doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back. “When did Ms. Y/L/N enforce these photos?”

“Why the hell does that even matter?” Eddie gritted with a clenched jaw of tension.

“Mr. Munson, you choose not to answer me, and I will not hesitate to place you as an accomplice, and you certainly cannot afford another detention or suspension if you’re planning on finally ending this school year as a graduate.” In a perfect world, Eddie Munson would have lied for you and lessened whatever punishment you were about to receive, but Hawkins, Indiana was far from perfect, the threat made him budge under the pressure of his potential future and your distraught eyes.

“It was, uh, after her cheer practice. After school.” He sheepishly murmured with regret.

“Ah,” Principal Higgins turned to your shaking stature. “So, not only did you make unauthorized changes to the school yearbook, but you stole school property, used our equipment prohibitively outside of school hours, and actively unsubordinated my authority. I have to say, I am awfully disappointed in the person you have become, Ms. Y/L/N, and I am ashamed to have valued you so highly when you simply choose to go down the path of delinquency.” Everything about Principal Higgins words were humiliating and slammed you into a vicious cycle of believing the worst about yourself. “Finish the rest of your day,” he sighed, “but you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week for your actions.” Your heart sank at his news, and Eddie stood dumbfounded that he contributed to it. 

Your visions grew blurry under the swell of tears, and your breath was becoming sporadic with panic, and everyone just kept fucking staring at you. “N-no, sir, p-please!” You choked, “I-I have scholarships, a-and acceptances that I-I’m still waiting to hear back from, this could ruin that for me, p-please, sir!”

While your pleads were being disregarded, everyone stood stun watching your fate unfold in front of you. Eddie Munson didn’t know what to do. Nobody did. On top of being berated by him from Friday, you were now facing the worst possible consequence for something so trivial, and he watched it happen. Granted, there was quite literally nothing Eddie could do to fix the situation, but seeing you stand there, panicked about your future and trying to conceal your incoming sobs through the ache of heart palpitations, it was fucking excruciating for him to witness. 

“You should have thought about that before you made your choices. Everything is on you.” His words were ringing in your ear like a loop confirming everything you’ve ever hated about yourself. “I’ll be sure to let your father know of the news, and as for your spot on the committee, it is up to Ms. Wheeler to determine where you stand. Now go, everyone back to class.”

Fred Benson was first to leave, giddy to have been cleared from any trouble. Eddie Munson should have left, but he couldn’t stand to leave, simply watching you turn to Nancy Wheeler in a flash. Your round eyes were pleading to her to let you stay, but her previous words of “This is your only strike,” was tormenting you. She sighed, “I’m sorry,” and the shake of her head answered everything before she could verbalize it. 

You were off. 

You stormed out of the room, bumping shoulders with Eddie, though with no malice intent, just simply needing to get out. The second you reached the clearing of the empty hall, your tears were drowning your cheeks, your sobs so unbearably hard your breathing staggered for release. Suddenly, your little cashmere sweater felt like it was sticking to your skin, giving you hot flashes that brought dizziness to your pounding head. The blood battering your ears cleared out any noise, including Eddie’s calls of your name. He reached out to hold your arm, causing you to severely flinch in hysteria, and he appeared devastatingly concerned for your state of being.

“Sorry! Ar-are you okay?” He winced at the loud sob you choked out, as he felt stupid for even asking you that question. “Look, everything, uh, everything’s gonna be fine.” He rushed to reassure. In truth, Eddie Munson was completely talking out of his ass, he didn’t know if everything was going to be fine, your panicking was just causing him to panic, and all he wanted was for you to be okay. “J-just, uh, breathe for me.” He offered. 

“I-I c-can’t! I’m scared, Eddie, help me!” You pleaded with frightened eyes. 

Your beg hit too close to home. Suddenly, Eddie was a little boy curled up in the corner of his trashed living room, as he watched his parents abuse one another with words and fists. He pleaded the same words to his parents, who merely ignored his shaking little body. Such horrific events disfigured Eddie Munson’s belief of healing. No one cared for his emotions, no one cared for his feelings, and no one cared to make sure he was okay. So, yes, Eddie Munson yelled at you Friday night because he was petrified. Petrified to be hurt, just as everyone else had done, because to Eddie Munson, that was his fate. To be hurt and to be forgotten. Maybe that’s why he cared so much about being excluded from the school yearbook. While anyone would have rightfully been upset, being excluded cemented the notion that Eddie Munson was disposable. His father spoke it, the townspeople spoke, his teachers spoke, and his peers spoke it. But you didn’t, and that fucking scared him. It’s why he yelled, it’s why he panicked, and it’s why he’d try anything to help you right now.

“I-I know, sweetheart, just listen to me, please.” He quietly spoke. “I’m not gonna touch you or anything, I just really need you to listen to me.”

You fervently nodded your head, and he sighed with relief, because though minor, it was progress, and progress was incredible.

“I, uh, I want you to focus on my voice, okay?” His wide eyes connected with your red ones. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and I mean it when I say everything will be okay. I-I’ll make sure of it.” 

Could he physically do that? No. But would he try his damn hardest, putting his being through anything to make it happen? Yes. For you.

“Okay, I want you to-”

“What are you doing to her?!”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut with disappointment. 

Jessica fucking Lewis.

“Get away from her!” She charged past him to get to your hysterical figure. “Did you do something?!”

“No, no, I’m trying to fucking help her.” Eddie implored. “Stop yelling, she’s having a fucking panic attack.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Don’t fucking come near her ever again, you freak!” Eddie watched as you tried to get your words out, but your shrinking throat made it impossible to get your voice out, and he recoiled, watching the fear in your eyes as Jessica held a tight grip in your arms. 

But before he could stop her, Jessica was dragging you into the girls bathroom, and he stood frozen doing everything in his power to not rip out his hair in frustration. 

-

Aside from her fault-finding comments against Eddie, Jessica Lewis had actually been a fairly good friend to you through the years of cheer, connecting with the girls through the pact of lifelong sisterhood, as she insisted. Though such pact also came with unwarranted advice when she felt one of you was “falling out of line” with a pristine, perfect image. That being said, when she found you panicking at the hands of Eddie Munson, she was actually concerned, impetuous, yes, but concerned, nonetheless. She’d sat with you, decisively skipping the rest of Mrs. Otis’ home economics class, to console you, bitching out any innocent girl to leave as they attempted to alleviate themselves, while you sat heaving with the back of your thighs sticking to cold tiles of the bathroom. When you did finally manage to catch your breath and calm your heart rate to a healthy status, Jessica had petted your hair with care, constantly asking what was wrong and what Eddie had done. Through your tremored voice, you hoarsely clarified that “He didn’t do anything,” and “He was just trying to help.” That revelation had actually baffled Jessica Lewis, honestly, some part of her believing you to be lying, but she gave it a rest when you assiduously shook your head in response to her asking what was actually wrong. By then, the bell had rung to signal the start of third period.

And it was during said third period when your situation only worsened completely unbeknownst to you.

While you were in the middle of trying to focus on your quiz—which proved damn near impossible after today’s events—Fred Benson was seemingly trying to get back at you for nearly inducing him into a heart attack after your actions almost cost him his spot on the Newspaper and Yearbook Committee (In reality, Nancy Wheeler had only yelled at him for not previously checking the books).

See, once Fred had informed the rest of the Yearbook Committee of what you had done and how you were being punished, the news had spread like wildfire; nerds, geeks, punks, jocks, everyone knew one version or another. “Perfect Cheerleader Falls Under Satanic Cultist’s Influence and Vandalizes School Facilities,'' small town high school students sure had a talent to dramatize any given situation. You’d only taken a picture, that’s all it was, but the students of Hawkins High had conspired together to formulate you into a freak slut who allegedly got fucked by the Eddie Munson after cheer practice in exchange for putting his club in the yearbook.

As the students of your class hurtled to mitigate the dreaded boredom of the school day with the clashing laughter and stale food of lunch, you sighed in your seat, head pounded and anxiety still churning in your mind and stomach, slowly packing up your belongings before handing over the quiz—quite literally the worst you’ve ever performed on one. Lunch seemed like the worst possible thing to conquer, right now. Despite the horrid grumbling of your stomach, you felt no need to satiate that hunger, as your appetite was long gone for the afternoon. In addition, you’d known Jessica Lewis long enough to know that she had informed all your friends of your panic attack, and if you chose to call her out on it, you knew you would only be met with a “I’m only trying to help,” as if you needed an intervention. She’d done it to Paige Semore when the girl healthy gained a couple pounds over the summer and got ridiculed by Jess.

But when you entered the cafeteria, you quickly wished you were subjected to Jessica Lewis’ harmful “advice”, rather than the reality you got.  

The sound of the heavy double doors announced your arrival, and suddenly all eyes were on you. No, like quite literally, all eyes were on you. No greeting smiles from acquaintances, no shying-away looks from crushing students, no bright wave hello from Chrissy Cunningham from across the cafeteria, in fact, she was heavily avoiding you, seemingly finding the table more interesting as Jason Carver glared at you. Everyone was staring at you as if, without notice, you had become the town pariah. Because you had. Your perturbation had bombarded you like a missile hit, as quiet whispers flooded your senses. Peering around you caught his eyeline. Eddie. His brows had severely been furrowed with much worry, because he knew. He knew how quickly it went around, and he knew just how bad the news got twisted. Now, he was no stranger to the onslaught of destructive rumors, but you weren’t, and with the day you had, his chest was pounding with dread for you.

Chalking it up to merely being in your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat, and with quick steps, you sped to your usual lunch table. But everyone kept staring- your friends were staring. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” You whispered, as they genuinely looked at you with disgust. 

“Why don’t you tell us?” Jason scowled. “Seems like you’re the one who caused all of this, you desperate slut.”

Your mouth dropped incredulously. “What did you just call me?”

“You fucking heard me!” Jason stood from his chair, rejecting Chrissy’s quiet ask to not cause a scene. “It’s exactly what you are.” He laughed.

Eddie Munson’s residual anger was fueling. Hard. He stood from his chair all the way across the room, metal legs scraping the floor with a deafening screech. But his presence only caught the worst attention. “Oh, would you look at that? Your little freak coming to help you?”

Eddie faltered at your watery eyes, begging for everything to just stop. If he spoke, nothing would help you. “What are you talking about?” Your voice stung with pleads to just understand what was happening to you.

“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know!” Andy’s booming voice startled you. “You wanna choose some gross freak to fuck, then fine by us, go right ahead, but don’t think that you’ll be able to with us!” Andy McAvoy was taking it far more personal. He liked you. That was obvious. But hearing the rumors simply led him to believe you chose Eddie Munson over him.

“What?” Your voice cracked in distress. 

Eddie had had enough. 

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” He marched his way over. All the boys of the basketball team stood in preparation for a fight that Eddie Munson was known to love to finish. Finish, not start. “Your bland lives got that fucking boring you all have to go around making shit up to make things interesting?! She didn’t do anything!”

“Aw, defending your precious little fuck toy, isn’t that cu-”

Chrissy Cunningham's shrilling scream startled the entire cafeteria as Jason Carver’s blood stained her powdery skin. You flinched at the bone-crunching punch that busted Jason’s pretty face, and everything felt heavy in your chest. Your hands were beginning to shake beyond your control, as everything was horrifyingly disfiguring in front of you. It was happening again. Before your mind was about to shut off from the assault of today’s events, your instinct had elicited all rash decisions, and you had to leave. All you could comprehend was the diffusing sounds of students instigating the fight before everything fell silent and you trudged down the hall to escape.

Staff were quick to call Eddie’s name before another detrimental hit was casted upon Jason. It was only then, Eddie’s judgment was left unclouded, and he noticed you were gone. “Did she leave?” He hadn’t necessarily asked anyone in particular, moreso questioning himself, but Chrissy Cunningham had ardently answered him with a swift nod of her head and bulging eyes of fear. 

Eddie broke through the doors with force, catching you near the end of the hall. “Y/N!” You didn’t turn, though. Every repeated call of your name fell with no response, and he chased you down, following you into the zephyr of the afternoon weather outside. “Y/N, c’mon, wait!” He’d grabbed your arm.

“What?!”

Eddie staggered at your biting tone. Not once, in the four years he’d known of you—freshman to senior year—had he ever heard your voice so malicious, yet drowning in urgence to make everything stop. Your inconsolable state devastating him helplessly. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He sighed so softly.

“‘Sorry?’” You affronted. “Now you’re sorry?! After everything that’s happened! Why, is it out of fucking pity?!” Internally, Eddie was begging you to stop, because if you kept yelling at him like this, his defense mechanism was going to lash out, especially when he was already angry from everything that’s just happened. “I don’t want some stupid apology, not when every time you appear, my life gets worse! I just want you away!” You cried.

Eddie scoffed in disbelief. Were you actually blaming him for all this? No, you weren’t. But after the day you just had, you were not looking to be comforted by someone who partially hurt you. But Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. His judgment had a habit of being clouded; his cynicism about anything good happening to him had protected him from a lifetime of hurt, and now, unfortunately, your rightfully pent up polemic about him was believing his suspicions to be true. 

“This isn’t my fucking fault, you’re the one who wanted to take our picture in the first place!” He shouted, shielding his vulnerability. 

“Because you made a big deal out of it!” You screamed with frustration. “You yelled at me first, you said mean things to me first- why- why were you so mean to me?!” You blubbered through drowning tears.

“Because- be- ugh,” Eddie pained with vexation. “You fucking terrify me, okay?! You terrify the living shit out of me!” Guarding his tearing eyes from your shattered being, he groaned realizing you weren’t going to understand unless he opened up, but he couldn’t bear to, and maybe that was the best solution to move on, run away. “It’s just fucking hard when, you know, you look like that and you’re fucking you, and I’m just me, and you have a great life-”

“‘Great life?!’” You derided through tears. “You know nothing about my life!” You shoved him. “You know nothing about me!” You shoved him again. Eddie was quick to retrain your wrist in a tight grip, preventing you from touching him again, no matter how hard you tried. “Stop acting like you know everything about me when you know absolutely nothing! I’m not going to stand here, and let you say mean things to me, when you know nothing, do you understand?! I have never done anything to you, and I never will, because unlike you, I’m not some sulking asshole who can’t handle their fucking emotions, and uses their sorry life to lash out at people because they’re too pathetic to deal with their own problems!”

And maybe your rash psycho analysis of Eddie Munson was too much, or not harsh enough, but either way, your critical comments derailed him off the edge of sanity. He aggressively dropped your wrist, and got into your face with a full might of fury. “You are such a miserable bitch!” He shouted, invading your space with intent, causing you to wince and step away from him, but he wasn’t relenting. “For once, you got a fucking taste of what your bullshit friends have been doing to me, and now you can’t fucking handle it?! God, just love playing the fucking victim, don’t you?! Maybe they are right, maybe you are just some fucking desperate slut craving fucking attention?! Is that why you did all this shit in the first place?!”

The way your face flashed with sudden dejection had him biting his tongue. Oh, fuck. He regretted it. He fucking immediately regretted it. 

Eddie began furiously shaking his head in denial to what he just uttered, he couldn’t believe it. “No,” he heaved out. “No, I-I didn’t mean it, I’m s-sorry.” He could only muster a whisper.

You didn’t even have the energy to fight back, merely accepting his words as truth with a silent sob that burned your being. “Yeah,” you shakily sighed with a sniffle of sobs. “I’m sorry, too, Eddie. I would have loved being your friend, and now I just want nothing to do with you.” His heart dropped at your calmness. When he first spoke those words to you, demanding you to stay away from him and his friends, he knew a deep part of him didn’t mean it. Why would he, you were fucking perfect? But you, the stillness and tranquility of your words cemented them to be the final verdict. You were done. “So please,” you wiped your drenched face from tears, “just leave me alone and stay away from me.”

No malice, no anger, no fury.

Just pure defeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | This is my first time making a tag list, and I got overwhelmed—in a good way—that I simply tagged anyone who commented. If you were not looking to be tagged, I’m so sincerely sorry, and please let me know to respect your wishes and remove you!

(Big, fat kisses to all of you) @televisionboy @batkin028 @lostdreamingwallflower @cevais @myfavoritesareproblematic @btbabyy @married-to-the-music01 @super-nova-03 @deathnote6666 @cherrytc @sleepy-bunnie @eggo-segual @bambi-horror @aheadfullofsteverogers @sademoloser @averagestudent03 @freakymunson @princess-eddie @imagine-a-world-blog1 @negativity4you

@nope-thanks @allsortsedits @callingmrsbarnes @f0rgggg @hurricane-abigail @sweet-sunflower64 @redlovett @goldstars-to-all @eddiesguitarskills @goslytherin @sashaphantomhive @maxinehufflepuffprincess @emeritusemeritus @angel-upon @middle-of-the-earth @scarletwitchwhore @my-tearsricochet @pixiepaintt @ericasdumbworld @animechick555

@gewrgia-black @hookandchain @roseanddaggerlarry @prestinalove @sebismyhubby @maddsunn

(I’m so sorry, some blogs are not popping up when I try to tag y’all, if it’s an issue on my part, I’ll try my best to fix it as soon as possible)

[twilghtkoo]

ride: first date [part one] jjk

“you nervous?” “yeah.”

summary. you’re first date with jungkook and he’s picking you up on his motorcycle

pairings. biker!jungkook x reader (f)

genres/au. fluff, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, college au

warnings. flirty jungkook, oc and jk touch each other (not sexual), poor attempt at motorcycle knowledge (my fault) T__T, if i missed anything pls lmk!!

word count. 1.6k

notes. first part!! and the beginning of a new series but with jungkook o.o i rly liked this one hehe, pls like and reblog if u enjoyed this !! also did y’all see jungkook’s promotion schedule photo bc W T F

[ series masterpost | masterlist | taglist ]

—

you’re the girl he’s had a crush on since he saw you for the first time in the library on campus. you were wearing grey sweatpants and a random hoodie with your hair tied up in a low ponytail, your glasses framing your face in the most prettiest way. you were frantically typing and writing stuff down on your laptop, and when he had walked over to take a seat next to you— after the pep talk he had with himself— your notes still looked neat and colorful despite your distressed scribbling.

after he had the courage to tap you on the shoulder and start a conversation, you’ve both quickly became friends. it was surprising to see how well you both bonded together. and you’re not usually someone who makes friends so easily, it having to do with your shyness and social anxiety. but jungkook had a charm and such an easy-going personality that drew you in.

you’ve mostly hung out on campus, both of your schedules not aligning in your favors due to exam season. so your hangouts were located in the library most of the time. opting to studying together and just being satisfied basking in each others presence.

around the tenth hangout, jungkook asked you out on a date. you were working on a quiz and he was writing an essay when he slid a piece of paper over to you before he went back to typing on his laptop.

will you go out on a date with me this saturday?

check ☐ yes or ☐ yes :)

you would’ve said yes even if he gave you a ‘no’ option.

-

a couple days later, before the weekend, he had walked you to the campus’s bus stop and waited with you. you had an evening class and it ended around eight, the blue sky now turning a shade darker as the minutes pass and it made you frown.

“how do you get home? you said you park in parking garage b and that’s across campus. you didn’t have to walk me here, although i really appreciate it.” you said, worried. from the eyes of others, jungkook looks tough, if his tattoos, piercings, fit figure had anything to go by. but you cared about him and it’s natural for you to be worried. anything could happen.

your concerns make him grin, he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“i’m okay, promise. and i ride my bike to get places.” he assures you.

you tilt your head, staring at him with curious eyes. “like a motorcycle?”

he nods, holding his small grin when he watches your eyes grow bigger.

you gasp, “really? you own a motorcycle?”

“yup, she’s my baby. got her when i turned 20. she’s precious to me.” he tells you before leaning down next to your ear. “but don’t worry you’re more precious.”

you didn’t have time to respond because your transportation pulls up and jungkook grabs your hand to walk you to the entrance of the bus.

-

jungkook arrived at your place a bit early but he couldn’t help it. he was excited. he had texted you he was here but told you not to rush.

he’s has never been this nervous in his life since having to tell his mom he wanted to major in computer science and not med school like she wanted. he’s nervous because he’s going on a date with you.

and you’re in your bedroom trying to gather your necessities into your shoulder bag, deciding to take a peek through your window that shows the front of your building and you’re able to see jungkook next to his bike.

he’s not sure how to stand when you walk out your door. should he lean against his bike with his arms crossed? he almost decided to just sit on it but why if he’s going to get off anyways to greet you. should he pretend he’s on his phone until he sees you?

“kook!”

he is shaken out of his internal turmoil when he spots you lightly jogging up to him, a radiant smile lighting up your entire face with warmth and joy.

“sorry, did i make you wait?” she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, peering up at him with guilt and curiosity with the shiny black bike next to him.

he quickly shakes his head. “no, i wasn’t waiting long. don’t worry.” he assured you.

“you look pretty.” jungkook compliments you, scanning your features with the same grin he had when he had asked you out on a date.

you blush, “thank you, you too. i mean, you look really really handsome.”

his eyes crinkled at the edges and the corners of his lips turned upwards. his lip piercings shining and glaring from the sunlight, almost blinding you.

he notices you staring at his bike with interest.

“you nervous?”

“yeah.” you admit, sheepishly smiling.

you watch as jungkook unzips his leather jacket and sliding it off before he makes his way to you. he helps you slide off your bag before helping you slide your arms in the sleeves. his smell and the soft scent of his cologne makes you feel giddy inside and makes your heart hammer.

“i’ll ride slow, i have precious cargo today.” he responds, zipping the jacket up and grabbing all your hair from out the jacket. an action that makes your heart beat louder out of your chest.

you slide your bag back over your head to rest on your shoulder as you watch jungkook grab the helmet that rested on the back of his bike.

“did the bike come with an extra helmet?” you question, genuinely curious.

he’s careful to not mess up your hair as he slides the helmet over your head, and strapping it on.

he hums before he responds. “no, i bought it yesterday.” he tightens a strap, then asking if it was too tight, you said no.

“you bought it for me?”

“i told you, i have precious cargo. can’t have nothing happen to you.” he finishes making sure your helmet was secured, lightly patting the top of it before he slid his on.

watching jungkook do his thing and putting on his gloves was kind of hot…okay, really hot.

jungkook gets on first, kicking the kick stand off the ground and holds out his gloved hand for you to take. giving your hand a squeeze as he notices your small steps before you climb on behind him. instantly wrapping your arms around his tiny waist, when you tightened your grasp you were able to feel the sculpted muscles underneath his t-shirt. only making you intrigued on what’s hiding beneath the thin cotton fabric.

“hold on to me okay, squeeze me if anything.” he tells you softly, but you know he’s serious.

-

the sound of his motorcycle coming to life was like a breath of fresh air. in fact, his frequent gentle touches at stop lights were everything calming and you appreciated it.

the light just turned red and jungkook slows down to a stop. your knees rested against his hips as your arms circled his waist, both your hands linked together. he frees his hands from the handle bars to rest on your hands, giving them a squeeze.

and god, you’re very thankful for this helmet that’s hiding your red face and your embarrassingly huge smile.

his hands then roam to your knees then down your shins, patting a rhythm and then running over your denim covered leg soothingly.

is he doing this to make you go crazy? cause it’s working.

you’re not sure if it was the coffee you had this morning or his touches that boosted this sudden confidence but your hands loosened around his hips and gripped them. squeezing where his bare skin ends and you feel the hem of his black jeans.

jungkook places a hand over yours, not letting your hands move anywhere else. he wants yours to stay where it’s at for the moment.

he tilts his head back. “you doing okay?”

you nod, “yeah, you’re a safe driver. five stars.” you joke.

he chuckles at that and the light turns green.

-

he took you to a dog cafe. not just any dog cafe, but a corgi cafe. you didn’t even know this cafe existed. oh but through the big window in the front of the building, seeing the few corgis you could see, you wanted to burst with excitement.

“you like corgis?” he asks, pointing to the pen that’s in your hand with an acrylic artwork of a corgi at the end. you had bought it at a stationery store a few weeks ago.

your lips curve upward into a small but genuine smile. “yeah, they’re my favorite dogs.”

he smiles with you, mentally storing that information into his brain.

“you haven’t been here before have you?” he asks nervously, helping you off the bike and unstrapping your helmet. he helps you fix your hair and brushes back a few strands.

you shake your head. “no, i didn’t even know a corgi cafe existed here.”

“good, i was worried you’ve already been here.” he holds his hand out for you to take, in which you did.

you’re swaying on your feet unconsciously, switching gazes from the nervous boy and the sight of a freaking corgi cafe in front of you.

but jungkook notices you.

he hums out, “come on pretty, don’t wanna keep you out too late.”

[prettyoatmeal]

Confessing Feelings (König x Reader)

First tumblr post since years of being inactive and I’ve grown a real liking towards these fellas. They’re my baby girls ❤️❤️ Reader is GN and smaller-hinted (about 5'2-5'7). Sorry future me for horny posting.

WARNINGS: Very slight mentions of death but very tame. Overall fluff

SUMMARY: You confess your feelings to König in a dangerous situation and you don't want to go out without finally telling him how you feel. He feels the same and asks you out.

Word Count: 813

Masterlist here!

***************

König was a real gentle giant; it was no secret. Or well not to you at least. Being part of KorTac for a while now, you’ve gotten to know the Austrian military man over the time you’ve spent together. You were very intimidated by him at first, both because of his height and his build. Anyone would be if they saw a ripped 6’10 man in uniform with a hood covering his entire face and only his eyes able to stare down into your soul.

He was very timid with you at first as well due to his social anxiety, poor boy doesn’t have those confident friend-making skills. Long story short, you two were both afraid of talking to each other. You were scared of him, and he was scared of you. Though, you two were once paired together and had to look after each other. You’d finally built up the courage to crack a joke about the situation you were found yourself in, and then you two slowly started chatting both in and outside of missions.

He was charmed by your outgoing nature by the time you two were regularly talking, and he’d become attached. Super attached. You'd often be the one talking and he'd be the one doing the listening. But he didn't complain. He couldn't complain. He loved, loved, LOVED hearing you talk, finding the biggest comfort in your voice.

This wasn’t to say you hadn’t grown a fond of him either, realising how you two clicked instantly, you knew you’ve made a lifelong friend (eventual boyfriend, and maybe even husband, who knows?). If you two were on missions together, he'd never let you out if his sight. And if you weren’t on missions, you two would be inseparable anyway, always together, to the point of even creating little pet names for each other; him calling you Mous, and you calling him Bear. You two slowly started building those strong feelings for each other but neither of you wanted to admit it, valuing you guys’ friendship (and jobs) too high to lose.

You finally mustered up the courage to tell him you like him in a life or death situation on one of your missions. Finding yourselves in immediate danger, you didn't want to go out without telling him.

“I like you. A lot. As a crush.” You would whisper out, not knowing if it’s like last time you two will ever see each other again.

“… scheiße…” he’d reply to you in a low growl, causing your stomach to drop as you instantly figured he didn't feel the same. Though in reality, his gears were turning and he was preparing himself to grab you by the waist and sprint to safety with you in his arms.

The moment you two were back at safety, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, he asked you,

“Do you really, (Y/N)?” And you’d nod, looking down and feeling ashamed for developing such a crush on technically a co-workers. It was at that time when you’d felt the most vulnerable in your entire life as the beast of a man stood above you, his dark eyes looking straight down at you.

He thought his heart would beat out of his chest, taking his gloved hand and placing a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. Of course you two were both nervous out of your mind. Your eyes scattered as your knees went a little weak from that gesture alone before your eyes finally fixed themselves onto König's. You could now tell by the little squint in his eyes was that he was smiling widely under the hood. And by pulling it just enough to reveal his lips, he gained that little burst of confidence to lean down and place a small kiss onto your lips. All the worries and nerves calmed themselves as your lips moved in unison.

He was always scared to touch you, knowing how small and fragile you are compared to him. He'd slapped you on the back once after a successful mission like he would with the other boys. The difference is that they have that butt load of extra muscle mass to keep them grounded. The boys were massive, you were not. The 'harmless' slap caused you to jolt forward, almost losing your balance and giving him the biggest scare of his life. After that, he'd refuse to ever lay a hand on you, afraid of his own strength and hurting you any further. Only in specific situations would he ever touch you. This was one of those situations.

Pulling away from the kiss, König lets out a shy giggle as the burst of confidence in him slowly flying away and going back to his more timid, shy self.

"So, uh.. you free after we get back day after tomorrow, Mous?"

Yes. Yes, you were.

***************

Hello there. Sorry this was an impulse post I whipped up in like 15 minutes. This is not proof read so please ignore any grammar or spelling mistakes.

[wheelie-sick]

this is going to be a long post, it's kinda just me writing all my raw unfiltered thoughts on ABA therapy as someone who actually went through it

-> TW for ABA therapy, child abuse, suicide <-

I was functionally diagnosed with autism at the age of 3 but it wasn't until I was 13 that I was actually formally evaluated for it and given an official diagnosis. I was behind in social skills and developmental skills

[ID: "was also described as a sensory seeker. She does not currently have any friends and has struggled to make and maintain peer relationships throughout her childhood. Difficulties with social skills were initially noted when she was in preschool (years before the onset of clinically significant symptoms of anxiety and"]

[ID: "Social functions: [blank]'s mother also completed a questionnaire rating her social responsiveness. Her responses on the SRS-2 indicated that [blank] is demonstrating severe deficits in the areas of Social Communication (reciprocal social interaction and nonverbal and verbal communication), Social Motivation (motivation to engage in social-interpersonal behavior) and Social Awareness (perceiving social cues) and moderate deficits in the areas of Social Cognition (understanding social cues). Severe Repetitive and Restrictive Behaviors (stereotypical behaviors or highly restricted interests) were also reported. The total T-score on the SRS-2 indicates severe deficiencies in reciprocal behavior that are likely to result in interference in everyday social interaction"]

[ID: "%ile) are mildly impaired, while her social skills are moderately impaired (2nd %ile). By domain, demonstrates mildly to moderately impaired abilities in six adaptive skills areas, including self care (9th %ile), communication (5th %ile), home living (5th %ile), self-direction (2nd %ile), social (2nd %ile), and leisure (1st %ile)"]

and ultimately all this ended up with the number one recommendation after my autism evaluation being for ABA therapy.

[ID: "Recommendations: Based on the above results, the following recommendations are made for [blank] and her family.

1. ABA therapy: [blank] May benefit from an intensive treatment program to foster cognitive and communication skills, improve independence and adaptive functioning, and help manage interfering behaviors (i.e home-based, 1:1 instruction, task analysis, etc.) Most private and community programs are based on principals of operant conditioning and taught in home with 1:1 instruction"]

*I'm getting misgendered here. my pronouns are he/him

"operant conditioning"-- like a dog 🐕🐕. woof woof.

my mom didn't know any better so she put me in ABA therapy with the Center for Autism and Related Disorders. she regrets this. I regret this more.

my autism evaluation was cruel, it dissected all my flaws as if I was a bug under a microscope in a highschool laboratory. my evaluation was passed around to ABA therapists, a line of high schoolers peering through the microscope examining the most vulnerable parts of me.

and I choose the highschool analogy quite deliberately. most of the ABA therapists at my center were recent highschool graduates with no degree and little training. they knew nothing about autism and had no qualifications. you need more certificates to become a professional dog trainer than to become a professional human trainer.

"operant conditioning"

and I wish I could say it was just a poor choice of words but ABA therapy was dog training for children. my dad used to call me an "it" and somehow I felt less dehumanized by that than the entire experience I had in ABA therapy.

I was the oldest person at my center (I did not receive in home therapy) with the next oldest being approximately 3 years younger than me. at the time I felt babied. I was surrounded by 5 year olds and I was treated as if I was not just a 5 year old but an autistic 5 year old and anyone who has been a visibly autistic 5 year old knows what that feels like. I had escaped being an autistic child and now I was being treated like one again. The head of the program tried to console me by telling me adults received their services too.

[ID: "Following the principles of applied behavior analysis, CARD has developed a treatment approach for children and adolescents with"]

this was the first lie they told me. CARD does not work with adults.

I was not allowed the privileges of being a 13 year old. because I was an autistic 13 year old and therefore I was the equivalent of a 5 year old. I was in psychotherapy at the same time and I had grown very accustomed to some level of freedom in therapy. I was allowed to use the bathroom independently. in ABA therapy I was not allowed to use the bathroom independently. I tried once, me and my therapist were on an "outing" to the grocery store and I told my therapist I was going to the bathroom and walked off and I got a very stern talking to about how I needed to "stop eloping" and if I didn't stop it would "become a behavior"

eloping became a common theme used to control me and squeeze money out of my parents.

out of everything I hated in my life, including severe physical abuse at home (which they did not report), I hated ABA therapy the most. I would repeatedly make serious threats of suicide to try to get out of ABA. no one cared. everyone thought I was being dramatic but there were times I wrote out suicide notes and ABA was among the reasons I listed. ABA made me feel hopeless, depressed, revolting, disgusting, inferior, and less than human. between ABA, my home life, and my social life I had never felt so hated and it was boiling through my skin. I acted out, I was bullying people, I was behaving recklessly, I was starting fights, and all this only made the oppressive force of ABA crack down on me harder. I was a cat hissing in the corner begging to be left alone and ABA brought a net to try to tame me further. every time I scratched back it was listed as a reason I needed to be there.

I was "disruptive" and "rebellious" and "uncooperative" and "resistant to treatment" and no one could figure out why I was "regressing" despite me shouting the answer. I was screaming and no one was willing to hear me

I hated myself and my autism. my autism diagnosis made me want to die. I didn't feel freed by it or understood I felt ashamed and disgusted. I felt incompetent and like I had failed. I was ashamed to be at ABA, it was my biggest secret. I'd lie to my friends about why I couldn't hang out and I'd lie to people in public about who the woman I was with was and I'd lie about all of it to try to cover up my most shameful secret.

ABA therapy did nothing but foster this. In ABA therapy I was mocked for being autistic and what was happening only clicked when a young kid, maybe only 4 or 5, was flapping his hands and a therapist took out her phone and recorded him. we were circus animals. it was all an entertaining show to them while they poked and prodded at us with metaphorical hot irons to make us dance. the first time a therapist laughed at me for rocking back and forth I wanted to throw up. I almost did. it was systematic bullying of children I was forced to watch and experience.

my point is: the last place on earth I wanted to be was the ABA center.

so of course I tried to leave. my mom would bring me McDonald's and I'd beg, sobbing real tears, to leave early because only she could sign me out. every time I'd go to meet her I'd be marked as "eloping" and my hotel stay in hell would get extended.

my natural response to a stressful environment (leaving) was pathologized. I was eloping this way and that way and never once did I actually, truly elope. that word was a weapon used against me. they used my "elopement" to justify extending my stay to my parents. they ate it right up.

they argued I needed to stay there because I was making friends. this was true, I'm great at getting along with children it's part of why I want to go into pediatrics, but I had also made real friends with people my age at my highschool. ABA was getting in the way. I wanted to spend time with my friends outside of school but ABA took up all my time from the minute I left school to 6pm and all day on weekends. I was doing a full time job's worth of hours. I complained about how I was missing out on spending time with my real friends (as in, over the age of 7) and I was met with almost no wiggle room in my schedule. I was allowed to pre-plan time to spend with friends but every time my friend group wanted to do something spontaneously? I had to say no, and I had to lie about why. my friends would share stories about driving around town with 2 people in the group stuffed in the trunk, of hanging out in the woods together, of taking part in ordinary highschool activities as ordinary high schoolers and it made me cry because I was not an ordinary highschooler and I was not allowed to participate in ordinary highschool activities. I was one of those weird, unpleasant, socially awkward autistic people instead. eventually, they just stopped inviting me. I was forced into the out group by ABA.

I'll never get that back. I'll never get a chance to be a normal highschooler ever again.

when I did have time available to hang out with people I never had the energy to. at the time I was living with an undiagnosed physical disability and I was begging to see a doctor but no one would believe that it wasn't just anxiety. the people who believed me least of all were the people at the center.

I was constantly told I was trying to get out of therapy by "feigning" very real pain and fatigue. I tried to explain spoon theory, and that I had limited spoons, and in response they made a task for me to name things to "regenerate spoons" that's not how it works. I wasn't the only physically disabled person there. there was a wheelchair user who was constantly forced to stand for periods of time despite being in agony doing it. he wasn't allowed rewards until he did it.

rewards were used to train us like dog treats are used with dogs. sometimes the treats were fun! I'd get to cook, play Mario kart, and go on outings. other times the treats were "using the correct name and pronouns for me." I'd constantly be threatened with deadnaming and misgendering if I was being "noncompliant."

misgendering because of my autism was a theme in my life. my neuropsych evaluation report misgendered me. my parents misgendered me. the staff at ABA misgendered me. at one point the head of the program suggested that my "gender confusion" was because of my autism. my abusive father latched onto this and still claims that the reason I'm "confused" about my gender is because the evil transgenders tricked me into thinking I'm one of them because I'm autistic and therefore easily impressionable.

the two therapists I had were nice because I refused to work with the others. they weren't on a power trip and both eventually left because they realized the harm the organization was doing. other therapists were not so kind. other therapists were on a power trip, because in their mind lording over autistic 5 year olds (and autistic 14 year olds) makes them powerful and strong. occasionally I'd get stuck with one of the other therapists when my usual therapists were out. they would talk to me in a baby voice. they would make fun of me for rocking back and forth, for not making eye contact, for talking about Skyrim "too much" and generally just for being autistic.

I never really knew what I was supposed to be doing, just that I was doing it wrong. the therapists there rarely actually told me what my tasks were they'd just mark yes or no on them, judging me for something I wasn't aware of. I was never actually supposed to graduate, I was never supposed to get out, if they wanted me to succeed they would have taught and explained what was happening but I was intentionally left in the dark.

I continued threatening suicide to get out. no one took me seriously. I was seriously considering it. there's no happy conclusion where someone finally realized it was all wrong, or I figured out how to be allistic and graduated, or I felt more comfortable there. I only got out when covid struck and shut the center down. it's gone now, replaced by a family advice center. I hope their advice for autistic children is to never put them in ABA.

there is no grander message here just suffering. I'm sorry if you were expecting some sort of great point at the end of this. there's not one. it happened, I wish it didn't, and I hope no one else experiences what I did ever again.

okay to reblog

[sky-is-the-limit]

Realistic König Headcanons bc I love him so much <3

• He would definitely steal all your plushies so he could smell you at night while cuddling with them in his Hello Kitty pajamas:(

• He'd always put on a Disney film after killing a bunch of people to forget about it as well as sing along to Let It Go (Elsa is his fav)

• He would ask you to tuck him in at night and read him a bedtime story to make the demons go away:(

• König would be the type to say "kiss my booboo" after getting shot cause he's so fragile and precious.

• He would call you so many pet names in German like his little Schnitzel Volkswagen<3

• He'd definitely ask you to hold his hand whenever he'd have to step out of the house bc of his social anxiety, poor baby would have panic attacks whenever Jehovah's Witnesses would pull up.

• If you'd touch his balaclava, he'd break down crying like the smol precious bean he is because you mean so much to him, and he doesn't want to scare you away:(

• He'd love the colour pink and would let you decorate his uniform with sparkly patches before going off to commit war crimes<3

• His bestie, Ghost (shh doesn't matter that realistically they'd be enemies and Simon would dust his ass into the next dimension) would come over to bake cookies and sell them to raise money for a local charity <3

• He'd be Price's favourite child, golden 141 member and they'd have to kick Gaz out to make room for his 7'8 little body<3

• He was really into art when he was a kid but they didn't accept him into art school:(

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｂｅｓｉｄｅ ｙｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!jisung x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: Han adores you and there's truly no one else he'd rather ditch a party early to cuddle with.

♡ Genre: fluff 

♡ Word Count: 1k-ish

♡ Warnings: mention of anxiety, brief non-sexual undressing

Han sits on the floor in front of Felix’s couch with his head cradled by the softness of your thighs. You run your fingers through his hair, stopping every now and then to carefully massage his scalp. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, and slowly lets it back out. When his eyes open again he doesn’t feel as smothered by the party raging around him.

Suddenly the music’s muffled, the lights have softened, and the crowds push away until there’s only you. His darling. His love. His sweet baby. His reputation for being a social butterfly has come to mean that people expect a lot of him. With expectations come pressure and with pressure comes anxiety. But sitting here with you is his safe place. You are his safe place. 

He takes you by the wrists, weaving his fingers between yours, and lays your arms over his shoulders. “Why ya lookin at me like that? Hmm?” you tease, nuzzling your chin against his velvety hair. Han smiles, those pinchable quokka cheeks perking up, “Because you’re so beau-ti-ful.” There’s something charming about the incredibly British way he says that word.

Beau-TI-ful. So beau-TI-ful. He’ll say it in any accent you want, any language he can learn if you ask him to. In his eyes, you’re a work of art worthy of praise in every possible way he can offer it. And every time he does, without fail, you get this warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. The one you're feeling right about now.

You kiss him on the forehead, trying to hide that sweet smile of yours even though he wishes that you wouldn’t. “I wish we were home so we could cuddle” you sigh and he’s already on his feet, helping you get your things together. Typically he makes it a point to say goodbye to Felix but now all he can think of is lying in bed with you, his arms snug around your gloriously chubby figure.

Getting you back home is his only objective. Han leads you out into the night, fingers still interlocked with yours and tries his hardest to remember where he parked the car. Crossing the street, your heel catches on a piece of gravel. “Shit” you mumble, nearly losing your balance. Han spins around, wide eyed and worried sick that you’ve gotten hurt somehow.

He kneels down right away, inspecting your ankle for broken bones, “Are you okay? Does this hurt?” “Baby, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I shouldn’t have worn these stupid heels anyway.” Despite your assurance that you’re alright, he continues to examine your ankle, even checking the other one to be double sure.

You’re his favorite. The thing he wouldn’t trade for every star hanging up above. If anything ever hurts you, even something as small as a paper cut, he has to take care of it. Make it all better. “Just, uh, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” he instructs, moving you back onto the sidewalk. “Han…” A quick peck on the lips cuts you off before he’s racing to get the car.

You aren’t nearly as fragile as your boyfriend acts like you are but it makes you feel special that he cares so much. Han pulls the car up beside you, hopping out to help you into the passenger’s seat. His sense of urgency makes it seem like you were injured in battle. “I said I was fine” you giggle, “It’s really not that serious.” Han pulls off your heels, taking a few seconds to massage your “poor little ankles”.

On the ride home he asks a million times if you’re comfortable. Is the seat the way you like it? Is the music okay? You tell him that it’s perfect because it is. It always is. 

You shift the focus from yourself by asking about his music and the spark it sets off within him is visible. “Oh my pretty, pretty baby” he squeals, resting a hand on the gentle meat of your inner thigh, “I have, like, so much to tell you! So much!” Han talks a mile a minute, squeezing your thigh a bit tighter each time he gets to a detail he’s really excited about.

Before you know it you’re pulling into your garage and he’s almost dragging you up to the bedroom. You don’t have to lift a finger to change out of your clothes because Han’s already plucking them off of you and replacing them with your comfiest pajamas. “You want tea? Water? A snack?” he asks, hopping into a pair of sweatpants. 

“What I want is…” You collapse onto the bed, bringing him down with you, “This. This is nice.” Han lays his head on your stomach, hands sliding up the side of your shirt to squish your love handles, “If you ever get rid of this I’ll cry.” You roll your eyes, "Oh please.” “I mean it, it’s my favorite.” “You say every part of me is your favorite.”

Han scooches up to kiss you on the nose, “You can have more than one favorite. Like here…” Lips brush against your neck. “And here...” Fingers trail down your spine. “And here…” Han could go on like this, worshiping everything from the nape of your neck to that ticklish spot behind your knee, for the rest of the night. 

And he does. Even going so far as to double back to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. When he’s finished, he cuddles up behind you, no longer content with being the little spoon. “Can we just stay like this forever?” “Mmm, maybe…” you mumble, rolling over to rest your face on his chest.

“Maybe?” You can’t see his face but you’re positive there’s a look of utter offense on it. Draping your leg across his waist, you kiss underneath his chin, “Yes, we can. Forever. You are my favorite after all.”

[ellieslittleburrow]

Masterlist 🌹🌹🌹

Hi there, welcome. I'm reposting the masterlist on my other account, rusty's lodge and adding the fics i wrote on this one as well.

enjoyyyy 💕

MASTERLIST P.2

4am Masterlist

Writing conditions

Fandoms : Supernatural, Walker, The society, Hannibal, Peaky blinders, Sherlock Holmes, The Punisher, The Witcher, and many more!

Open to requests from other tv shows i might've watched, so request away 🖤🖤

Supernatural :   

One shots : 

Sam and dean :

Coming home late..doesn't keep Dean okay.(Angsty Dean x sister reader)

Graduation (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Broken heart (Dean x sister reader)

Cakepops (Dean x sister reader)

Tummy ache (Fluffy Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Arrested (Angsty Sam x sister reader)

Distant(Sam x sister reader)

The best dad (Sam x daughter reader)

Heartbroken (Sam/dean x sister reader)

I'll do it for you (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Sleep paralysis...Part1(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Witchcraft (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Fun evening...Part 2(Angsty Dean x sister reader)

Fun evening..Part 1(Fluffy Dean x sister reader)

Social anxiety (Dean/Sam x sister reader)

Eating disorder part 1 (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

ED part 2, Dean(Dean x sister reader)

ED part 2, Sam (Sam x sister reader)

Periods (Dean/Sam x sister reader)

Hungover Dean ( Fluffy Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Non-binary little winchester(Sam/Dean x sibling reader)

Dean realizes his sister’s lesbian( Dean x lesbian sister reader)

Forever love you, no matter what(Sam/Dean x lesbian sister)

I'm here now, kid (Dean winchester x daughter!reader)

Too young to go on hunts(Sam/Dean/Bobby x sister reader)

Sick (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Pretty girl (Sam/Dean x young sister reader)

psychic abilities (Sam/Dean x sister reader) 

Homeschooled Part 1 (Sam/sister reader)

Homeschooled Part 2 (Sam/sister reader)

Sir mister judge (Dean x sister reader)

Bites pt1 (angst Dean winchester x daughter reader)

Bites pt2 (fluffy Dean winchester x daughter reader)

The hairdresser (Sam x young daughter reader) 

Short hair (Sam/Dean x sister reader) 

Panicky..(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Hurtin' kid.(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Family breakup. (Angst Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Sentimental sister (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

What's that you're wearing?(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Other characters :

The little secret (Castiel x reader)

I promised i’d keep you safe and i broke that promise(Platonic jack x sister reader)

Savior castiel (platonic castielx sister reader)

Charlie's girlfriend (Romantic fluff charlie x sister reader)

Siblings (Dean/Sam Winchester x sister!reader)

Christmas time (Dean winchester x sister!reader)

  Texts 📱 :

Sam and Dean :

Are you sure you’re feeling better ? (Sam x sick sister reader)

Prank time. (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Night terrors (Dean x sister reader)

I crashed baby...(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Other characters :

Blackmail Part 1(Claire novak x winchester sister reader)

Blackmail Part 2 

Hannibal :

Poor behaviour Pt1 (hannibal x daughter reader)

Poor behaviour Pt2

It is but a little cold. (Fluff Hannibal x daughter reader)

Anger issues (Hannibal x daughter reader)

Protective family(AU Sherlock Holmes/Hannibal Lecter x daughter/sister!reader)

Peaky Blinders :

Final night in Soho (shelby brothers x sister)

Sherlock Holmes :

His ward. (Sherlock Holmes x sister reader)

His ward. PT2, choice 1

His ward. PT2, choice 2

The detectives (Sherlock/Enola holmes x sister!reader)

Big Sky :

Hurt but safe.(Beau Arlen x daughter!reader)

The Last Of Us :

A father like no other (Joel Miller x daughter!reader)

From stranger to father..(Joel miller x daughter!reader)

Fainter reader(Joel miller x daughter!reader/Ellie x sister!reader)

Home late(Joel miller x daughter!reader)

The witcher :

Geralt headcanons (Geralt x daughter!reader)

Top Gun Maverick :

Balls of fire (Rooster Bradshaw x sister!reader)

Elvis :

I own you. (Smut Elvis Presley x girlfriend!reader)

Classic case of jealousy (Elvis Presley x girlfriend!reader)

[heytherelysia]

need me a scaredy cat yandere who is shy, meek, and timid. social gatherings and public speaking is their greatest fear— for which they have passed out because of their sheer nervousness and anxiety. a poor baby who's head over heels for you, but do not have the confidence and mental capacity to approach you.

bonus points for a bully/delinquent reader. force them to look at you right in the eye after berating them for not giving you lunch. when you look at each other, you notice it. they're crying. they're crying from fear, from anxiety, and from euphoria. they're scared, damn right they are, but it feels so good... for you to look down and smirk at them. your voice, your laughter, your touch... they're about to lose it. every inch of their body is shivering, their knees buckling, and their breaths getting quicker and quicker— poor baby is overwhelmed, and you never anticipated what would happen next when you spat at their face.

they whine loudly, gradually losing their balance until they have sat on the floor. and you notice, the wet patch in their pants...

"huh... i knew you were pathetic, but never to this extent." your words are laced with genuine shock. they are the very definition of pathetic, but to know that they stoop this low? shit does it make you want to make fun of them more.

they're still sobbing, nothing is registering to them, not even your voice. they were worried that someone would see the both of you at first, given that you're in a hallway— but they don't think about that anymore. they are overwhelmed from climaxing, and they came in front of their beloved! how embarassing...

"ahng!"

as expected, they cry out loud when you step on their crotch— and you step on it hard.

"puh-please! no more! n-no more hah..." they try to get away from your foot— the way it presses against them hurts, but it had no right to make them feel good. they would've let you rub your shoe against their private part if only they aren't about to reach another orgasm— but they want to cum! they just feel like asking too much from you, you already have no lunch because of them and this loser wants you to make them cum? maybe it is too much...

"beg again like that and i might do worse shit to you. but you'd like that won't you? i'll make you clean my feet with your mouth and you would come untouched wouldn't you?"

oh jeez, don't even make them think about such scenarios, they might not be able to hold on anymore...

"cu-cum! g-gonna.. cum!"

who are you kidding? you've got better things to do than help a gooner chase their high.

you retract your foot. "a shame that you won't get what you want today... i'll leave you here in the open and let everybody see your disgusting state.

"w-wait! please don't... please don't go! i-i need you!"

you're already by the door when they try to reach to you, there's no way you're gonna help them now, they realize.

they're left their sobbing as they try to stand and regain their composure— they don't mind a ruined orgasm, so long as you fuck them up like that again.

scaredy cat yandere who looks and thinks of you like a loving god/goddess— even as you do heinous things to them for your own sadistic pleasure. whipping their body, decorating it with beautiful scars, you think. forcing them to go on all fours so you can use them as a stool. kicking them by the stomach. making them eat food on a dog bowl. all while they are sobbing from fear and anxiety.

oh what a lovely deity you are to them.

[veeluvss]

the profile

previously posted on wattpad

emily prentiss x daughter

1K words

i closed and locked the front door behind me. it had been a long day and i was exhausted but i wanted to check on y/n. she was homeschooled, due to her social anxiety and most days, she comes into work with me however today she stayed at home - not feeling like joining me.

"y/n," i called up the stairs. i slid off my shoes and jacket then headed up. "angel," i sung as i always did. i saw her bedroom door shut which wasn't usual so i knocked.

"you in baby?"

"i'm in," she replied quickly.

"can i come in?" i asked.

"no, i'll be out soon."

"baby," i said in an authoritative tone. we didn't have secrets.

"it's fine. mum i'll be out soon," she sighed. i wasn't going to argue with her.

"i'll be downstairs making dinner then. i'll make your favourite," i said softly, heading away from the door.

an hour later, y/n still wasn't down. this wasn't like her. at all. usually she stuck to her routine to a tee but it was twenty minutes past dinner time and she was no where to be seen. i headed back up and called her name again. this time i knocked and opened the door, she couldn't keep me out.

she was laying on her bed, her curtains and blind closed, pillow over her face and crying softly. i closed the door gently behind me, getting rid of the light.

y/n had a very unstable and traumatic childhood, resulting in a few issues developing as she grew older. when she came into my care, the team noticed autistic traits also so we got her diagnosed. i supported her where she needed it and she had the best therapist i could get her.

"it's so loud," she cried, sensing my presence. i walked over to her bed and sat down softly beside her. i didn't say anything, just removed the pillow from her face before laying down.

"come here, darling," i whispered. she rolled over and collapsed into my arms, crying. i held her tightly, rubbing up and down her back. i kissed her head and caressed her hair. it's all i could do. she just needed some love, some cuddles and gentle touches. she needed the reassurance.

"mama's got you," i said gently. "you're safe." she whimpered and clung to me.

half hour later, we were downstairs drinking coffee and heating up the dinner.

"did you get much work done today?" i asked her.

"no," she grumbled back, sighing.

"that's okay, you're ahead anyway," i smiled. she was a little smarty pants. reid had serious competition. it didn't surprise me, her dads IQ was as high, which is what kept him away from the authorities for so long. he outsmarted us far too many times and unfortunately dragged his poor daughter into it.

"you working tomorrow?" she asked, over her bowl.

"when am i not baby," i chuckled in reply. she nodded and shrugged. "you can come if you like. we might be called on a case but you can tag if you'd like."

it wasn't a secret that y/n got special treatment in the fbi but it wasn't surprising. they'd been a couple of times where she'd taken one look at our board and solved the riddles, the case, the lot. now reid was no longer with us, away on his top secret case, her work had been so beneficial.

"i think i will," she told me, smiling gently.

"alright. shall we have a movie night?" i asked, picking up the popcorn cornels.

"in your room?" she asked hopefully. i smiled and nodded.

"in my room."

the next morning, we walked into the bau together.  garcia stood outside the elevator, waiting for us with a wide smile.

"good morning my loves!" she cheered, raising her arms.

"good morning p," y/n said, nodding her head. she was feeling better this morning.

"mini prentiss is here today, it's a good day." penelope smiled and wrapped her arm around my daughter's shoulder.

"y/n is here?" we heard jj ask from the the hall. y/n turned and saw jj standing there with her arms open. she ran to jj , jumping in her arms for their signature cuddle. jj and y/n had clicked instantly when i came back from london. the first time jj met her was the tivon askari case, the morning after i rescued her. they became the bestest friends and it was amazing to see.

"your desk," i said to y/n, putting her bag on the desk opposite jj's. "you going to be okay whilst i'm in my office?" i asked her, running my hands over her hair.

"yes mum," she chuckled, looking up at me.

"good. you know where i am if you need me," i whispered. i leaned down and kissed her head. "i love you."

"i love you too."

a few hours later, we sat in the boardroom consulting on a case. y/n sat in the corner, looking at the pictures, listening to the facts.

"i think its a woman," she said.

"me too," tara agreed.

"the language used is far too maternal. she uses adverbs like 'willing' or 'hoping' which suggests to us she's giving an option. she probably is a woman with very little power resulting in low confidence, hence the low risk victims. we could be looking at a woman who is jealous of the attention the postitutes get from the men. she could be a house wife or even a secetary for a big boss. she'll be physically weak, hence the murder weapon being a car. it distances her from the kills as she doesn't believe she can do it up close and personal, again, she isn't confident enough to approach them. however, another reason it's most likely a woman is due ot the remorse she shows by dressing the body neatly, placing her in the chair. not only is it way of displaying the vicitm but it's also to make them comfortable, warm and give them a peaceful passing to the next life," y/n said from the corner of the room. everyone was looking at her bamboozled.

"have you just presented us with a profile like - before we even got to the crime scene?" Alvez asked. I smiled with pride - that's my girl.

"i just looked at the pictures and read the reports?" she shrugged. "its all speculation."

we all smiled and JJ cheered.

"wheels up guys, mini reid, you're joining us!" rossi said laughing. however, y/n frowned as she stood up.

"my name is y/n , not mini reid thank you very much."

[heyheydidjaknow]

Hi, I absolutely love your portrayal of yandere venti! I was wondering if he's considered starting a family with the reader.

In 'Good Wine' he answered maybe later to the reader saying fuck you and in 'Incomprehensible' he said how he's trying not to force himself onto her, unless this one has a different meaning, English isn't my first language.

If so, does he understand the consequences of these actions? Old Mondstadt doesn't seem like a good environment to raise a kid, not to mention the lack of social interaction.

I am going to preface this by saying that I have no idea what the fuck the deal is with fertility in the genshin universe. I don’t know if the Biological Species concept applies to wind spirits turned archons turned human x another human. I don’t know if Venti would even be physically compatible with a human or if his windspiritness would make that impossible. I certainly don’t know what the kids would look like. If there is a lore answer and someone knows how that would go down or if there are lore examples of that happening please contact me because I asked my lore friend and they couldn’t tell me.

Also I will neither confirm nor deny that the phrasing in Inconceivable was meant to be taken that way. There is an answer but also feel free to take what you want out of my writing.

If you are not physically compatible with Venti he is not going to steal a child. That child would probably be mortal and that would be a bad deal. He’s already said “fuck it” to his morals enough to kidnap a partner; he’s not going to kidnap some mother’s baby.

If the baby would be mortal, also a no-go. Best case scenario he raises some poor kid in a cave their entire life because he’s paranoid about them getting hurt. Worst case scenario he leaves the kid and you alone and they suicide pact or, worse, you end up killing the kid to keep them away from him. Also a bad deal.

If the kid was immortal, then yes. He could be content with his child murdering him and be generally okay with them going out on their own to find their own path in life. At least then he would have someone to share your memory with.

If he didn’t know and would need to fuck around to find out, then he wouldn’t. The anxiety of the above scenarios would be enough of a deterrent to completely throw out the possibility unless you were incredibly persistent and insistent about it or if in a moment of passion he completely forgot.

Regardless, if the two of you were to have a child that would be a thing that happens long after you’ve given in to him. It’s not that he doesn’t want a family but the variables involved induce in him enough anxiety that it wouldn’t be something he’s pushy about.

[dayangaytransman]

Warnings: mention of Transphobia, Homophobia, Self harm, Suicide, Gender Dysphoria and depression

I translated this with the help of AI so I don't know how much of it is correct. Sorry for bad english

I just want to share this; otherwise, I might do something that makes everyone upset

I am a Trans man/Transmasc/Genderfluid person. I use any pronouns except She/Her.

In my country, they won't let me transition, but they also don't want me near them pre- transition

I tell doctors and people who say they can help me that I need testosterone.

But they tell me if they give that to me, I will have a beard and I will regret it! I want a beard! WTF!

A doctor said to me that he cannot give me testosterone, but I can buy it and inject it myself! They don’t sell medicines like that without a doctor’s permission.

I look like a woman, or a 12-year-old cis boy.

I am 19 years old

And when people meet me, a grown man, they see a child and act accordingly. They call me little and short, and I can’t tell people in public how old I am, but they always ask.

I hate myself because I don’t look like the grown man I am. I am 153 cm and 42 kg. I am short, skinny, and have a baby face.

I sometimes present as feminine, and when I do, people in public say unkind things to me. They even try to harm me.

I live in a place where the government executes gay men and I am afraid when they see me as a gay boy.

I live in a Muslim country, so they expect me to wear a hijab, even though I am not Muslim.

I can’t transition here, even if they allow it. The doctors don’t know what they’re doing. I don’t want to be a laboratory mouse. Once, the most famous doctor was accused of killing a person just from a mastectomy! I want a healthy, beautiful, normal body.

I can’t travel for transition because I am very poor, and in my country, even $10,000 is a lot. Even with 100 years of working, I couldn’t accumulate that much money.

But they won’t even let me work or study! Many LGBTQIA+ people here have been expelled from school.

In my country, a trans person is a psychopath. Many of us don’t have an ID ( of our true gender) , and we can’t live like this.

I can’t attend classes, such as an art class, or visit any doctor. They require an ID, and even when they don’t, I don’t want to out myself or have them touch and examine my body.

I experience all forms of dysphoria that exist. I am dealing with depression, childhood trauma, ADHD, social anxiety, among other issues.

I tried to kill myself twice. I have left school. I don’t want to leave the house, but I am trying to change these things, and I can’t seem to do so.

And you know what? Nobody cares!

Do you think all transgender individuals speak English and reside in countries that are friendly to the queer community?

I cannot create a GoFundMe here; there is no supportive organization or similar entity available. Everyone here hates me and can easily kill me.

I am gay, and my relationships have always been toxic.

Men do not perceive me as a man.

My father left me; my mother just doesn’t care about me, and my brother is my biggest enemy.

I cry every day, and I don’t know if I want to be alive anymore. When I tell all my friends and family, even those who can see my tears, they don’t care.

I don't know what to do.

I see people on the internet who just need to turn 18 to transition, try a little bit harder, or travel to another city.

I do not have these privileges. I have wanted testosterone for four years and have tried to obtain it in the way the government indicated, but they have not provided it to me.

I hate my chest, My high, My face, My... My everything

I feel inadequate because I am unable to study, work, or even travel to see my boyfriend and best friend.

I remain alive because if I were to die, there would be no one to feed my cat. He/it is all I have in this world.

People often ask whether I am a girl or a boy. They always tell me that I am short and small, and insist that I can’t be older than they are.

I AM A GROWN ASS MAN!

Imagine calling Tom Ellis or Henry Cavill cute, little, and girlish.

And when my gender changes because I am genderfluid, it gets worse. And I don't feel like a woman.

Nobody here understands what ‘non-binary’ means.

They don’t understand the meaning of ‘trans’ either.

They refer to us by a term that I cannot repeat because it is an offensive word. A bad word that means: a person who is a prostitute has two genitals and is mentally insane. And they want transgender individuals to fully transition. Otherwise, they won’t give them an ID. And who do you think are the ones who say who is trans and who is not? The government! Actually, it’s the psychologists, but mostly the government. You need to prove yourself to them, and I tried hard, but I failed.

Even my family doesn’t see me as an adult—a man who is 19 years old.

Most of the day, I talk to AI because it is kind and knows what it is doing.

Here people think we are sex workers. That Trans people are always horny!

I have dysphoria, so I am not horny, even when I want to be. I can't even masturbate. I can't even look at it.

Here if they find out, they can send me to jail because I am an AFAB person without Hijab. All the people here are transphobic and I can't do shit about it.

And... Nobody in the world cares... I have no doubt that you do not even know the geographical location of my country.

Queer people in my country are the most miserable people on the planet. And they are against each other more than anywhere else. Gay men don't want me around them here ,same as Trans men. And they all hate non-binary people, Polyamorus people and people like me who have more than 10 labels.

I want to grow one day and become an artist, a writer, and an LGBTQIA+ activist. But also I want to kill myself. I want to become manly, sexy, hairy, and big But on the other hand, I want to hurt myself. I want to study philosophy, literature, and languages, but I also hate them because they don’t include someone like me.

I want to write LGBTQIA+ stories in my native language to contribute to my community. But this is illegal here.

I want to do anything and everything, but I know all of this is a dream, and just a dream

All I can do is cry and wonder if I should kill myself

I am sorry if this makes you upset, but I need to say these things to the world.

I wish I were AMAB, or if not, a wealthy person so I could transition. And if not that, then Canadian, European, or even American, so the transition would not be just a dream. Or if I am none of these, at least to not have all the dysphoria in the world, from top to bottom, from voice to face, to height to hips to…

Why? Just... Why?

[yandereaffections]

Javier Adolfo (YA’s Oc) Masterlist

The Man Himself

Character Description

S/o being bullied at work

Charming his Darling

Confident S/o

S/o who loves Skirts

Cute S/o who sucks at their Job

Avoiding him to make a gift

Home cooked meals for a Date

S/o who is pressured to do their best 24/7

Affectionate S/o

Exhausted Doctor S/o

S/o Binding her Chest cause of office harassment

S/o being black mailed for sex

House wife S/o

S/o who has Insomnia

S/o trying to fight a Racist

S/o confessing they want a big family

S/o who lives a double life

Spoiling Javier

Another yandere kidnapping S/o

Naga S/o that knows nothing of Human Culture

Not a morning person S/o

Sitting on Javiers lap

S/o who is apart of a huge Crime Organization

Nuclear Apocalypse

Naga Javier

Vampire S/o cautious of taking Javiers blood

S/o whose both cutesy and extreme

Filthy rich S/o

Jokingly calling Javier “Sugar Daddy”

Poor Underweight S/o refusing to bother for help

CEO Crush already married

Comforting Chubby S/o after being sexually Harassed TW

S/o who runs up to hug Javier everytime she sees him

Going to Disney

S/o getting hit on by their boss

“Have my babies”

Drunk S/o unknowingly confessing they love javier

Babysitting with S/o

Punk Rocker Darling

Making S/o wait for marriage as tease play

S/o constantly buying make up palettes

Hitman S/o warning for him not to go to work

S/o who cuddles him during work

Surprising javier with your intelligence

S/o Introducing ‘javey wavey’ to their friends

Trying to cook for his s/o

Accident prone s/o

S/o whose constantly wondering

COVID quarantine comfort

Cosplayer S/o

Homeless S/o asking him for cash

Figuring out S/o is pregnant

Yandere s/o

Making him cry HC

S/o whos only seen eating when they steal his meal

Shy S/o who loves affection

holding and playing with his S/os hair

S/os family fat shames them when they eat

Darling packs him lunch everyday

S/o whos easily scared

Stealing your clothes

S/o who slams their foot against the wall anytime it falls asleep

S/o who cant cook

Manipulation HC

S/o who refuses to go to stop smoking TW

Arguing HC

Incubus Javier w/ a s/o who looks down on themselves

Vampire Javier/ Halloween date

Vampire

Poltergeist

Decorating the office building for halloween

Bratty S/o

Halloween Date

Werewolf

S/o who cries during the emotional parts of movies

Motivating S/o to study

Javier Fluff

Top energy S/o 

Meeting Javiers Grandmother

Sub energy S/o

S/o who wants to travel alot

Comforting a stressed S/o

S/o who doesnt want kids

Depressed Darling

More Fluff

Seeing S/o without makeup for the first time

Darling playing with his hair

Taking stressed S/o away from their struggles

Sugar Daddy HC

Boba tea date

Diabetic S/o

Making him a Surprise Valentines homemade gifts

Finally meeting his online lover

S/o trying to treat their own stab wound

Javier vs Aiden

Coming over to S/os apartment for a dinner date

Autistic S/o who struggles to get a job

Finding out crush is dating his brother

Only dating him for money

S/o going on a vacation to gain Javiers attention

Foreign S/o having to suddenly return home

Darling having shit friends who use them for work

S/o whos terrified of horror movies and clings to him

Darling w/ Social anxiety 

Crybaby reader

How good he is with responsible adult stuff

Corrupt official male S/o

Darlings something like robin hood

Robin hood like S/o trying to steal from him

S/o who likes to cook for him

Darling has commitment issues

Very short S/o

S/o who age regresses 

Adoring darling when they Hyperfixate

Depressed S/o that has a hard time taking care of themselves

Author S/o

S/o who is constantly sewing

Leaning against him saying “love me” when Javiers busy

S/o has odd vocal tics

Comforting S/o w/ night terrors

S/o falls asleep on his lap during a meeting

Co-worker beating him to asking S/o out

s/o recently finding out they have adhd

Falling for the elder care worker taking care of his grandma

“It’s okay, I know you’re just not used to being cared for so much.”

S/O showing him matching outfits that they sewed themselves

Werecat S/o

Cuddlebug S/o

pressing their boobs against his back slightly 

Pegging Javier 

Chubby S/o sitting on his face 

S/o with a high sex drive 

squeezing him inbetween your thighs 

Cockwarm HC 

Kinky shit 

Praise Kink 

Catching him jerking to a picture of you 

Poltergeist cockwarming 

Mirror Kink & Sugar Daddy

Someone walking in on you / Public Sex w/ Dom male S/o 

Kinks Headcannons 

Foreplay Headcannons 

Male S/o railing Javier over his desk 

Sex Toys Javier loves the most 

Sucking him off underneath his office desk