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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 4 months

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By: Ben Appel

Published: Dec 26, 2023

In 2021, Harvard evolutionary biologist Carole Hooven stated on a television news program that there are “two sexes” and that “those sexes are designated by the kinds of gametes we produce.” She added that “understanding facts about biology doesn’t prevent us from treating people with respect” when it comes to “their gender identities and use [of] their preferred pronouns.” Afterward, a Harvard graduate student, in her official capacity as director of the Human Evolutionary Biology Department’s Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging Task Force, tweeted that Hooven’s “dangerous” and “transphobic” remarks made the department unsafe for transgender people. The Graduate Student Union took out a petition against Hooven, and, since no one would agree to serve as her teaching assistant, she had to discontinue her popular lecture course. This past January, under duress, Hooven retired from her position at Harvard.

More recently, I heard Hooven speak at a conference in Denver. She talked about academic freedom and her dedication to creating a just society. She said something I believe: that the truth is the way toward true social justice, and that the truth is what ultimately alleviates human suffering. After Hooven left the stage, I tweeted my thoughts about what she said, concluding, “Yep, I’ll die on that hill.” A Twitter user, in a now-deleted series of replies, responded, “Wish you would then. And quickly.” Later, this person elaborated, “Cis white conservative gays can all d*e. Please do, no one likes you.”

This might be the first time I’ve been called “conservative” for voicing my support of the truth and social justice. Right-wing homophobia is nothing new, though the enmity for “cis white gays” like me from the other side of the aisle has sadly also become widespread online. Here’s a very small sampling:

“[C]is white gay men are the weakest links and idc who knows it.” — @ann_forcino.

“ur rave wasn't ‘100% queer joy’ it was a warehouse party full of white cis gay men who want to dance and fuck each other lmfao [...] “that's not queer joy, that's f^g joy.” — @Maxies_back

“Chelsea and Hells Kitchen, more so than other neighborhoods in New York, produce nothing better than prissy, entitled cis White Power pretentious gay men, who don't respect diversity, or the rule of law.” — “LGBT for Change”

“Maybe they were right all along and white cis gays really do go to hell.” — Jerry Falwell @obssdwmlp

“Behind every bad man there is an even worse cis gay white man.” — @ANIMETWTDNI

“We need to realize that gay cis white men are still cis white men.” — @pettypiedpipertake

“Maybe homophobia against cis white gay men is valid.” — @heartIwin

“Noah Schnapp is also evidence that gays will truly go to h£ll. especially a cis white upper class gay like i genuinely, genuinely mean that and i’m sorry if that comes off as problematic.” [Schnapp is a 19-year-old Jewish gay actor who has spoken out in support of Israel in the wake of the October 7 2023 terrorist attacks.] — @brat6z

“I love it when white gays erase the trans and black side of this flag [...] You faggots deserve to get hatecrimed to death.” — @daredevilshill_

Writing for The Nation in 1994, the gay playwright Tony Kushner argued that homosexuality and socialism are intrinsically linked. Homosexuals, he wrote, “like most everyone else, are and will continue to be oppressed by the depredations of capital until some better way of living together can be arrived at.” Kushner lamented the growing number of gay activists, like Andrew Sullivan and Bruce Bawer, who advocated a more pragmatic approach to equal rights. The radical contingent of the LGBT community has long pejoratively described these types of gay and bi people — those who prioritize marriage equality, the right to serve openly in the military, and peaceful inclusion in Western society — as “assimilationist.” Real gay liberation, the radicals argue, will result from razing Western civilization and its capitalist, cisheteropatriarchal system and rebuilding it in their utopian vision. Like the gay journalist Donna Minkowitz once said to Charlie Rose, “We don’t want a place at the table — we want to turn the table over.”

The thing is, the pragmatic approach won. Today, gay, lesbian, and bi people get married, serve proudly, have jobs, own homes, and raise families. Like black civil rights leaders who preached nonviolent protest and a politics of respectability, discerning LGBT activists took the long view. We don’t want to exist on the margins of society, they insisted, we want to participate in it. LGBT people, just like black Americans, are a vital part of the fabric of this nation.

But the radicals haven’t taken this defeat lying down. After the 2015 Supreme Court decision in Obergefell v. Hodges, which made marriage equality the law of the land, the radicals pounced. “You got what you want,” they seemed to say. “Now it’s our turn.” LGBT rights organizations, either under the influence of impatient extremists or in an attempt to stay relevant (i.e., donor-worthy), refocused their missions to a form of revolutionary activism that purports to fight on behalf of trans people but in practice agitates for a revolt against Enlightenment ideals, liberalism, capitalism, and even basic biology.

Every LGBT organization seemingly became an extension of a university Gender Studies department, whose purpose was not to produce new knowledge but to interrogate — or, in their academic lingo, queer — existing knowledge which they spuriously associate with “whiteness”, colonialism, and Western patriarchy. Alongside this, a new social hierarchy of disadvantage was erected, where everyone was in competition to be the most “marginalized” — and therefore deserving of resources, a voice, and power in the revolutionaries’ value system. According to that value system, being gay or bi seemed to matter far less if one were also white, cis, and male, and therefore deemed to be in cahoots with the oppressors.

In 2017, while I was a student at Columbia University, I interned for GLAAD, one of the largest LGBT organizations in the US. Not only had their mission absorbed this new orthodoxy, it had filtered down to the interpersonal level. On campus and at GLAAD’s offices, I was regularly called “cis” in a kind of sneering, vitriolic tone that reminded me more than a little of the bullies who called me “fag” in middle school. The oddest thing was that much of the vitriol was coming from people who didn’t seem to be LGB, or even T, but who identified only as nonbinary or “queer.” Many of the people I encountered seemed to be profoundly homophobic. Any gay or bi man that didn’t at least adopt he/they pronouns, especially if they were white, was considered assimilationist, right-wing, traitorous upholders of the evil sex binary.

I never quite got used to being eyed with suspicion by other activists for my normative, gender-conforming appearance, or the constant bad-faith interpretations of anything I said. The only cis white gays spared this unfairly cold treatment were the ones who made a public show of being self-hating — the ones who renounced their “cis white gayness” and frequently apologized for their white privilege.

It was alarming to be on the receiving end of such vitriol simply for being myself — for not shaving one side of my head, painting my nails, piercing my septum, and adopting plural pronouns. It was alarming especially because so much of the hate I received when I was young came precisely because I was way too sex-nonconforming (in fact, in middle school, my classmates would often ask me if I was a boy or a girl). I wondered if my peers cared that I had been mercilessly bullied as a gay kid, or that I had worked on a trans rights anti-discrimination campaign when they were barely teenagers. I knew that my volunteering for marriage equality wouldn’t earn me any points, since marriage was to them an antiquated Western institution and part of an “assimilationist” agenda. This attitude has become so entrenched in LGBT activist spaces, I suspect it partially explains why support for same-sex marriage among Gen Z Americans has dropped from 80% in 2021 to only 69% in 2023.

Last year, I got a little more clarity about this issue when I came across an article, also written in 1994, by Stephen H. Miller. The publishing journal, Heterodoxy, titled it “Gay-Bashing by Homosexuals,” although Miller’s original title was “Gay White Males: PC’s Unseen Target.” In the late 1980s and early 90s, Miller chaired the media committee of GLAAD’s New York chapter. In fact, Miller came up with GLAAD’s mission statement, which was to “fight for fair, accurate and inclusive representations of gay and lesbian lives in the media and elsewhere.” In the article, Miller wrote that he was “purged” from GLAAD in 1992 because he objected to the rising political correctness and censoriousness in the gay, lesbian, and bisexual movement. Similar to the cultural shifts of the past decade, Miller recounts how activist organizations began prioritizing race and gender (and of course, the Correct political views) over individual merit. New staff members had to attend “endless sensitivity sessions” which “identified white men (whatever their sexual orientation) as the oppressor class.” Suddenly, it seemed like there was more antagonism towards the “white males” within the LGBT rights movement than without. Miller, who described himself as a “political moderate who believed in dialogue with the straight world and a good-faith search for common ground,” found himself “shunned.”

The race and gender quotas that LGBT rights organizations began adopting, Miller wrote, included weighted voting that favored women and people of color. For example, after regional delegations of organizers for the 1993 March on Washington for LGB rights failed to achieve their quotas, it was decided that women’s votes would count for three votes apiece and non-white votes would count for two votes apiece. That decision — and the many others that have since followed in LGBT activist spaces — calls to mind some dark and creepy moments from American history best learned from rather than imitated.

Of course, this also raises the question: Who decides who is a person of color and who is white, and how? Will they apply the one-drop rule, the early 20th-century legal principle that deemed any American with even one black ancestor (“one drop of black blood”) as black? I suppose that would be illegal since the Supreme Court outlawed the one-drop rule in its 1967 Loving v. Virginia decision. And yet, I’m not surprised by these backward tactics. It was Ibram X. Kendi who recently wrote, “The only remedy to past discrimination is present discrimination. The only remedy to present discrimination is future discrimination.” Around and around we go.

Then as now, as Miller wrote, anyone who challenged this illiberal orthodoxy was “deemed racist and sexist” and accused of harboring the belief that “white men are the main victims of discrimination.” Naturally, Miller notes, such accusations serve to discourage people who sense this hostility toward gay white men from voicing their dissent.

Then after AIDS decimated gay and bi male activist communities, lesbian radical feminists moved in, and a “critical attitude toward men, male sexuality, and ‘the patriarchy’” became the norm. “Male solidarity, once a hallmark of gay liberation, is now anathema.”

A direct line can be drawn from this upheaval in the early 1990s and the divisiveness in today’s LGBT activist spaces, where “cis gays” — and, in particular, “cis white gays” — are seen as upholders of villainous Western cisheteropatriarchy and its henchman capitalism. These modern activists are sure to include “white” not only out of an animus against white people, but because they assume that all people of color are helpless victims of Western capitalism who, because of their oppression, invariably hold the “correct” far-left politics. In his aforementioned article, Kushner invoked Oscar Wilde, quoting “A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at.” He added that he is “always suspicious of the glacier-paced patience of the right.” Writing for The Advocate, the gay writer Bruce Bawer responded that he and so many others are “impatient with models of activism that involve playing at revolution instead of focusing on the serious work of reform.”

This anti-“cis white gay” attitude proliferates in LGBT media as well. “White Gay Men Are Hindering Our Progress as a Queer Community” was the title of an article published in the magazine Them. “You had your time — now, we have other things to fight for,” read the subhead. “Let's Talk About People That Aren't Young Cis White Gay Men,” a HuffPost article was titled.

I could go on and on.

A few years ago, I attended a conference for LGBT journalists. There, I met a young, white, gay writer who would go on to work for a progressive news outlet in New York. He said his upbringing in a Southern state had made him racist, but since then, he has “trained” himself to be attracted to black and brown people, and now black and brown people are the only types of people he wants to sleep with.

If this is the “progressive” strategy for combating racism, I want no part of it. And any liberal cis white gay person who opposes racism won’t either. This is racism, operating under the guise of “anti-racism”, plain and simple. It attempts to end inequality by inverting it and, in the process, is attacking the foundations of the principles that have enabled the remarkable progress our society has made in transcending bigotry and prejudice. I only wish more people who saw this dogma for what it is were unafraid to voice the truth about it.

Homophobia and anti-gay hate are alive and well as progressive virtues.

#Ben Appel #woke homophobia #homophobia 2.0 #anti male #anti gay #homophobia #anti white #anti gay hate #intersectional feminism #religion is a mental illness

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beardedmrbean · 26 days

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The Iowa House approved a bill aimed at improving literacy rates for Iowa students, allowing parents to have their child repeat a grade if they are not proficient in reading and adding new educational requirements for teachers.

House File 2618 passed on a 92-3 vote Tuesday. The bill would require schools to notify parents or guardians of students in kindergarten through sixth grade who are not reading at grade-level proficiency, and inform them of their ability to request that their child repeat a grade. Students who are not meeting literacy benchmarks will be given a personalized plan to assist them until they are able to read at grade level.

Rep. Sharon Steckman, D-Mason City, said many of the measures required by the bill are efforts teachers already take to improve literacy outcomes with students.

“Teachers watch out for kids that are not reading at grade level already,” Steckman said. “Teachers talk to parents already. Teachers put forth an (Individualized Education Program), or some sort of a plan for that student to get on grade level already. So much of this we’re already doing.”

She also praised the bill for being “toned down” from Gov. Kim Reynolds’ original proposal. When Reynolds brought up legislation at the beginning of session as a way to improve literacy rates in Iowa schools, she proposed requiring Iowa teacher licensure candidates in early childhood, elementary, K-12 reading and literacy preparation programs, as well as those in special education, to pass the Foundations of Reading assessment to graduate.

The passing requirement for teacher licensure was removed in a House amendment, but education program students would still be required to take the assessment, with results reported to the Iowa Department of Education.

Related California Considers ‘Science of Reading’ Bill, as 6 in 10 Students Lag Behind

The House bill also omits some of the prescriptions on reading instruction and literacy strategies present in the Senate’s version related to the teaching of phonics — teaching the sounds of letters to learn how to read — and banning certain literacy teaching strategies associated with rote memorization or contextual clues to identify a written word.

These measures were discussed in the context of the “science of reading” teaching methods that put a larger emphasis on phonics to improve young students’ reading and language abilities. Other states, including Mississippi, have seen improvements in national reading scores after adopting the approach.

Reynolds said in January that while Iowa did not see the drops in reading scores in recent years that other states have, “holding steady isn’t good enough” for Iowa students. The results from the 2022-2023 Iowa Statewide Assessment of Student Progress showed that 34% of Iowa third-graders were not yet proficient in English Language Art skills. Studies have found that students not proficient at reading in third grade face greater difficulties with academics and in their personal life as they age.

Rep. Tom Moore, R-Griswold, thanked Reynolds’ office for working with lawmakers to come up with a “good compromise” on how to approach improving reading education for Iowa students. Moore agreed with Steckman on the bill’s provisions being strategies many Iowa teachers already employ — but said that it was important to ensure all students get more literacy support as needed.

“Obviously, we wouldn’t be in the middle of the pack nationally reading-wise if all of our teachers were doing some of these things,” Moore said.

The legislation heads to the Senate for further consideration.

#nunyas news

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quill-of-thoth · 1 year

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Letters from Watson: The Man with the Twisted Lip

Crimes in Context. Sit down bloggers, it's time for a few rounds with my current least-favorite monetary system, and an actual scale of the wealth difference between the poorest and wealthiest Victorians. I already did some math here, where @thethirdromana did some research regarding other contemporary math failures about begging. I swear this will be interesting after we get through the math.

Imperial Currency Definitions

Pound, or "quid" or "pound sterling": Literally one pound of silver coins. (Sterling is a silver alloy.) The gold coin representing it was called a Sovereign. It's worth 240 pennies or 20 shillings. There was also a gold half-sovereign. (120 pennies, 10 shillings...)

Shilling: 1/20th of a pound. A silver coin. Penny also pence, but only as a plural: 1/240th of a pound, or 1/12th of a shilling. Confusingly, there were silver pennies, copper pennies, and bronze pennies, with the exact same value, during the 1800's - silver pennies were minted specifically for royal charity, to be given out on Maundy Thursday. (The day before Good Friday.)

A lot of victorian accounts are written in Pounds, shillings, pennies, represented as L/s/d, but there were also other coins. I do not like them any better than this setup, but they provide context, so here we go.

Guinea: One pound and one shilling. Not it's own coin by the 1890's, since the last ones were minted in 1814, probably because they're stupid. I've seen it cited that if a professional gentleman was paid a guinea he got the pound and his clerks or assistants got the shilling.

Crown: Five shillings / a quarter pound. Represented by a silver coin.

Sixpence / Fourpence (Groat) / threepence / twopence (half-groat): conveniently, the numbers within the name tell you all you need to know. These were silver but twopence was also only minted for Maundy money during this era. Halfpenny / Ha'penny: Half a penny, a bronze coin. Farthing: A quarter of a penny, also a bronze coin, presumably for transactions like buying a single egg or leaving an extremely insulting tip.

Typical Wages:

Poverty: Laborers and factory workers may get anything from 4 shillings (0.2 pounds) to 1 pound per week. Women and children were routinely paid much less for the same work as men. Francis Moulton's 8s room from The Noble Bachelor cost up to two weeks wages per night. If an average adult male working in a factory was paid about 1 pound per week, he would make about 50-52 pounds per year. If a maid was paid 4 shillings a week, she would make about 10 pounds a year. If a child was paid 1 shilling a week, they would make about two and a half pounds a year. My sources cited a variety of years from 1860 on, so take all of these as ballpark estimates. The difference between 10 pounds and 50 pounds per year doesn't sound that stark, but today it's the equivalent of 1,000 pounds (1,200 USD) and 5,000 pounds (6,000 USD). Neither is enough to live on now, and it wasn't enough to live independently then, but it's the difference between living on L 2.7 / USD 3.2 a day and L 13.7 / USD 16.4 per day: You starve a lot faster at that first rate.

(Obligatory note that live in servants often had it better than factory workers making the same wage on account of having room and board provided as part of their compensation. Hence why a governess - a gentlewoman in distress - considers L50 a year a fairly comfortable wage: she's not paying rent, or for the bulk of her food. Like today's population of new graduates teaching English abroad.)

Comparative Wealth: Neville St. Clair states he's making about L 700 a year by begging. This is the equivalent of 71,000 pounds / 85,200 USD today. It's about the same salary as a modern university chairperson. At the time of this story it's enough to live in an upper middle class suburb very securely, with several servants. It is, however, an absolute bullshit number. To acquire five hundred and sixty six (ish) pennies per day, in 691 coins, St Clair probably had upwards of five hundred people toss him a coin. Presuming that the reason nobody gave him twopence was low circulation of that specific coin, we can estimate that few, if any, people gave him three pence or more, judging by a lack of any of three pence, four pence, or sixpence coins. (There also aren't any farthings but I'm not sure what 0.25 pennies could actually buy you in those days. Possibly people who had any money to spare didn't carry them.) If Neville works his corner for just long enough to get home by the 5:15 train, and it takes him maybe ten minutes to change out of his disguise, it's a reasonable assumption that he leaves his corner by 4:30 ish. He isn't noted as leaving particularly early in the mornings either, so I'm going to roughly estimate that he works about eight hours a day. If so he is earning more than a penny per MINUTE begging. He's getting someone throwing him a penny every 55ish seconds. There's a line of his benefactors dropping coins into his hat. Threadneedle street was home to the Bank of England and the London Stock Exchange: presumably St. Clair picked this location because people going to and from either actually had some money to spare. But it also leads to an inevitable alternate idea: since it's impossible for St. Clair to be regularly making two pounds a day begging, perhaps his beggar disguise is for more criminal reasons... perhaps a long running plot to rob the bank? Either he is casing the place or he's a lookout. Or perhaps he's the accomplice of a clerk skimming his own pound or two a day out of the change from deposits, handing it over to St. Clair whenever he walks out for lunch or at the end of his day so that he's never discovered with a truly stupid amount of pennies.

And as far as Holmes is concerned... he's brilliantly deduced the bizarre portion of this case. Who cares that the scale of the begging is impossible? The Victorian middle class could be just as blinded by propaganda regarding the poor as we can be today. Even though there were no official public services and the myth of the welfare queen is a modern invention there were definitely people who resented the entire idea of charity: human nature has not completely changed in the last 130 years.

#Crimes in Context #Letters from Watson #The Man with the Twisted Lip #This wouldn't count as fictionalization as Watson wouldn't know #but it makes slightly more sense than St Clair's story being actually accurate #No I did not purposefully make it so that the two stories who reference red hair contain potential bank robbing #spoilers #Spoilers for the Red Headed League

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mllx-anazra · 2 years

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tis the damn season (pt. 3) [Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson reader]

Here is part 3 (read part one here, and part two), also on ao3), thanks for the likes and comments :)

Summary: Hawkins' ex-golden girl's return two years after graduating as a high school teaching assistant leaves the small town wondering. One Eddie Munson, in particular, is determined to figure out the true reason for your come back if he can manage a discussion without wanting to kiss you forever and whisk you off your feet as he did two summers ago. Musician!reader, because love declarations are always better with a guitar.

TW/ Warnings: smut in later chapters so minors DNI, talk of therapy and trauma in later chapters, Eddie Munson is pinning, so is the reader, mentions of asshole rockstar boyfriends, drugs (the old devil's lettuce), explicit references, reader is a Henderson to make my no Y/N rule easier but is a cousin so hopefully it's ""inclusive"" enough?

Tag list: @eddiethesexy

Part 3: But if it's okay with you, it's okay with me

"Glad to see you are gracing us with your presence, Mr. Munson," drawls the unimpressed voice of Mrs. Click, the History teacher narrowing her eyes dangerously at the long-haired man as he passes her on his way to the gym where tired-eyed high school students cram themselves to another pep rally.

He bows dramatically to the professor, his wink only increasing the ire in the old bat's eyes, as ancient as the dates she teaches about. Three times he has taken her class and looks like he's on his way to failing it again. Oh well, Civil War battalions and other US presidents were never his forte. Even less so that you were no longer here to reward him with a kiss the few times he got it right.

Eddie is trying to tamper the giddiness in his step as his eyes scan the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, who had not escaped his thoughts since he helped you move in before the weekend started.

He thought it would be creepy to seek you out so soon already and busied himself over the two days by practicing a newer set for Corroded Coffin's next gig and prepping the next campaign for Hellfire. Despite these solid distractions, you had remained stuck to his thoughts, memories gliding along the metalhead's thoughts like honey, dripping on any space available in his brain. Would you think this new riff he just mastered sounded cool? Would Dustin clock if the siren he incorporated in the next campaign to charm and suck the life out of the party bore your resemblance? Would you notice the new ring he impulsively purchased Saturday, remembering how much you loved playing with his adorned fingers?

He wanted to repeatedly bash his head against a concrete wall at the desperate state your mere presence put him through.

Have I plagued your mind like you did mine, sunshine? He was genuinely dying to ask. Ugh.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant throw him questioning looks as he sighs deeply, plopping down on the bleachers next to them, at the very top of the assistance and as far away from the cheerleaders and their jock boyfriends as possible.

"Long weekend?" inquires his friend and bandmate, wiggling his brows.

"You have no idea." Eddie rubs a hand across his face. Gareth scoots closer and curiously sniffs him.

"Are you… are you wearing cologne?"

A crimson blush creeps on his cheeks, and he pushes away the laughing drummer as firmly as he can. Gareth's incredulous peals of laughter are contagious, the eldest members of Hellfire snickering at their designated leader as he curses them loudly. The commotion prompts a loud and stern shushing from Fred Benson and a blasé glance from Nancy Wheeler, Eddie childishly sticking his tongue out to them.

The cheer squad begins their routine, pompons moving in harmony as their shoes screech on the gym's polished wood, Hawkins High's very own band playing a dull fanfare. The basketball team comes roaring in, Jason fucking Carver's righteous attitude and pompous ass leading his squad of dimwitted jocks around.

"Do you think he practices his strut in front of a mirror?" you had commented on the same bench two years ago, sneaking up on the long-haired boy as the same routine was displayed, the then sophomore's already radiating assholery being the butt of many of your shared jokes.

"I'm pretty sure he uses the dance studio to perfect his prancing around," he had commented, prompting an amused giggle out of your lips.

The student body of Hawkins back then had been taken aback when you started walking in corridors and sitting in pep rallies next to the resident freak but had let it slide, thinking you were doing some charity work. Rumors of Eddie corrupting you had started floating around, your laugh vibrating across study halls at his jokes on the absurdity of it all. If anything, you had been the one corrupting him by invading his brain and colonizing most of his thoughts and desires.

Lost in them, Eddie does not notice that the popular circus was done until Higgins stands with a mic in hand and the "Go Tigers!" chanting dies down. He zeroes on the line of basketball players behind the Principal, noting with disdain the beaming smile of Lucas Sinclair at the very left. Mmh, that's why the little crud was so adamant on defending Carver lately. Oh well, practice seldom clashed with Hellfire, and although he would never admit it out loud, the Dungeon Master appreciated the freshman. Lucas, Mike, and Dustin were a lovely bunch of teens, reminding Eddie of his own beginning of high school, which is why he had very naturedly taken them under his wing during the first day of school. Granted, it has only been a few weeks since then, but he already feels quite fond of the dickheads.

"And finally, let us welcome back an alumnus who generously accepted to step in as teaching assistant and librarian, Miss Henderson!"

At the mention of your name, you stand out from the row of professors and come closer to Higgins, excited whispers and encouraging claps resounding around the gym. Eddie sucks in a breath, feeling punched in the gut as he takes in your appearance. He didn't know what he was expecting, but seeing you dressed in a pencil skirt and padded blazer combo was not what he had envisioned. It makes sense that you swapped your casual clothing for something more professional, as you are, after all, a teacher and no longer a student. But damn, if you look good, your hair pinned up and lips painted a deeper crimson, beaming at the student body. He catches you winking at Lucas as you pass by the freshman and wave quickly to Dustin, who is still clapping loudly.

"Damn, is that really Henderson? How the fuck is she hotter now than then?" comments Jeff, a slightly dazed look in his eyes.

Grant elbows his friend with a snicker and juts his chin towards a slack-jawed Eddie.

"Careful, Munson does not share his girlfriend."

He shoots a murderous glare at his friends, frightening them enough to stop their mockery, as he grits out: "Not my girlfriend. Never has been, for that matter," Even though I would fucking love to.

"Then why the fuck is she looking our way?" Gareth tilts his head down to where you are still standing, thanking Higgins and the student body for what you hope will be a "great enriching year for everyone."

Eddie catches your eyes, which matches the dimpled smile gracing your features. He cannot help the probably lovesick grin that breaks his previously annoyed face, which prompts you to smile wider and tuck a stray lock behind your ear. His heart skips a beat like he was a schoolgirl in a dumb rom-com. Like when you would initiate the kisses when you first started seeing each other.

"Man, you are hopeless," chuckles Jeff. "Don't let mini-Henderson know you have the hots for his cousin, though, don't think he would appreciate it."

Eddie breaks his tranced look at your face as you keep talking, his eyes jumping down to a familiar mop of curly hair covered by yet another nerdy cap. He narrows his gaze at the suspicious look Mike is throwing at him, observing him like a hawk. Sneaking around this time might prove more complicated.

He schools his expression to be neutral and chastises himself. Why the fuck is he thinking of re-starting your two-year-old fling? Just because you were back in Hawkins did not mean you would revert to the same habits and relationships. How could you even qualify what you two had been doing since then? Sure, you hung out. Like, a lot. Sure, you fucked. Like, a lot, lot. And sure, Eddie's infatuation has not really wavered that much in your absence, apparently. But you never explicitly said you were dating or in love or anything (another heartbeat skip). You were just… Friends. Unlikely friends with shared interests in music and nerdy stuff. Unlikely good friends who knew what the other looked like when they came and how they tasted.

Eddie stifles a groan. He had no claim over you back then and is not about to have one now that you had lived out of state for two years. A gorgeous and talented girl like you probably has dozens of guys fluttering around and fighting for your affection. The fleeting image of a good-looking polished guitar player headlining a dumb-sounding band appears at the forefront of the metalhead's mind. What was the pratt's name again? Something basic, like Johnny, or Joe, or Paul… Chris, Chris was his name.

A year ago, Eddie had compulsively purchased a specialized magazine where your name had appeared in small prints on the cover. He had furiously scanned through the pages until he found an interview starring Chris' band, Running Mouths, or something, where the snotty guitarist had explained in great detail the numerous inspirations behind every single song he ever wrote. "My girlfriend is very helpful in that regard. A true well of inspiration, a God-given muse" the line read, under a picture of you perched over Chris' shoulder, mid-talking, your hair cascading down prettily. The interviewer had asked you only one question, along the lines of "what does it feel to date an up-coming rockstar?". Your response, as it was written on the glossed page of the magazine, etched on Eddie's brain, read: "Well, you should ask Chris! (laughter). No, it's great to be with someone who understands the process of music creation. It's a privilege to see Running Mouths get the recognition they deserve and an honor to contribute to their success, not just as a muse but also as a co-composer, y'know. Most of their newer songs could not have seen the light of day without my input (laughter from Chris). You know I'm right, Stenson, don't deny it!". It was not just envy and jealousy prickling his heart but the sadness of knowing he would have prevented you from reaching such heights if he had begged you to stay with him in Hawkins until he graduated so you could run off together. He reasoned that admiring your shine from afar should suffice to convince him that he had made the right choice by watching you leave.

But, your return to this hole in Indiana may indicate some trouble in paradise, after all. A flicker of hope drums against his ribcage at the thought.

Eddie decides there and then, on the sticky bench of Hawkins High's gym, that by the end of this week, he will figure out the reasons for your return and if the feelings he harbored for you were matched, somehow. Operation Sunshine, starting now.

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whentherewerebicycles · 2 years

Text

good morning! I slept almost 10 hours by accident which I know I shouldn’t do (too much sleep is bad for you!!) but I just love my bed so much 😩

I am nervous about today because I have to tell my boss I took the other job. I am making myself do it over zoom instead of email. I think she’ll be very understanding but on rare occasions she’ll sometimes have a slightly negative immediate reaction if something surprises her and then will come back a day later with a more even-keeled response. so I’m also preparing myself for that and will try not to take it personally if she’s a little upset with me at first. I think my plan is to tell her I’m accepting the other offer because we haven’t heard anything back from the foundation and I didn’t feel comfortable waiting longer, but if the foundation comes back with a yes I have some ideas for how it might still be workable, and then I can lay out those ideas if she seems receptive. the four options are:

I teach and advise in a part-time role (3-5pm daily plus the evening class) and oversee 1-2 graduate student assistants who will split the advising responsibilities with me. this would allow us to continue pursuing finding ways to make it a full-time program independent of foundation funding.

I teach and advise in a part-time role but instead of hiring assistants we just recruit a smaller cohort so I can handle the advising work (5-7 students max)

I stay on for a month or two in a part-time role to hire, train, and initially supervise a new coordinator for the year and then fade out

we disband the program as originally planned regardless of whether or not grant funding comes through

I have mapped out and practiced the talk lol. its going to be fine! I think I still have mild workplace PTSD from when I gave four weeks’ notice at that other job and they screamed at me in a conference room for 45 minutes while I cried. and then I sobbed in my car for 30 min and had to come back in and work the rest of the day. so fun. but this will be okayyyy it will be okay.

here’s what I’d like to get done with the day:

10-11 phone with hannah jane

11-12 shower, get ready, student emails

12-1 brainstorming notes + practice lol

1-2 MC mtg

2-3ish podcast brainstorming session

could do UPS/fedex dropoff

read L&D book for 40 min

read novel book for 40 min

story brainstorming for 30 min

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rose-wine-selfships · 2 years

Note

2,3,10, 15 and 16 for your bsd self insert! :D

Asks for my BSD self insert Christina Avila

2. When in canon does your self insert come in? Do you have a scene in mind for your entrance?

My self insert comes in at the beginning of the show as a quick cameo appearance in the first episode. Atsushi tries to find a victim to pickpocket during starvation but he finds Christina so pretty that he gets distracted by her until he meets Dazai. However, she makes her full appearance after the events of episode 3 when Atsushi ran away from the Armed Detective Agency to save them. After Kunikida scolds him he recommends the help of my character to teach him how to control his abilities.

Once Atsushi sees her again he recognizes her and starts blushing like crazy once he sees her up close. Distracted once again by her looks she snaps him out of it and talks about how she’ll teach him on the first day. But in return she wants him to teach her informal Japanese since she only knows formal Japanese. After Atsushi promises to do that he begins to daydream about her. For the next few weeks she teaches him how to control and manipulate his abilities to become stronger. While in return she learns slang and other useful phrases from Atsushi for a while.

3. How do the other characters generally feel about your self insert?

Yosano Akiko is her mentor so she obviously has a soft spot for her, but she also pushes her to become more independent and assertive towards people (especially pushy men) if she has to. Christina is a medical assistant of Akiko’s so she enjoys helping her out and learning about human anatomy.

Edogawa Ranpo is one of her best friends so he enjoys having intellectually stimulating conversations with her. She never judges how he acts or talks and prefers to listen to him talk about his crime stories or escapades. In return he finds her kindness and validation refreshing. She loves baking homemade brownies, cookies, and other sweets for everyone including Ranpo.

President Fukuzawa is like a father figure for Christina and often watches over her in a stern yet gentle way. He often sees a bit of himself in her so he can be both protective yet hard on her when needed.

Osamu Dazai is like an annoying older brother figure to her. They often bicker and fight over little things but usually make up in the end. They usually become a powerful team over important issues and assemble well together. Dazai doesn’t really respect her privacy at times so he often invades it by reading her diary or going through her work locker. She usually beats the crap out of him afterwards with Kunikida’s help. Overall, Dazai has a soft spot for her too and is low key protective of her since Christina reminds him so much of Odasaku personality wise.

Doppo Kunikida is a second father like figure to Christina. He’s often harsh on her when she dresses inappropriately (cosplaying) for the Agency or acts out on her own during missions. However, he respects her incredible work ethic and appreciates her being there to finish paperwork and missions when needed the most. Even though he won’t admit it, he cares for her deeply and will take a bullet for her if he has to.

Junichiro and Naomi Tanizaki love being around her. She’s another good friend of the siblings and were the first people to meet Christina in a park in Yokohama. Christina was in a really dark spot in her life but they came up to talk to her and asked her to join the Agency. At that time she was freshly graduated out of high school and didn’t know what to do with her life. They usually love going out to the mall together shopping or giving each other makeovers.

Izumi Kyouka didn’t like Christina at first since she misinterpreted Atsushi’s bashful nature towards her by being afraid of her. So she often took Demon Snow out of nowhere to scare her. Eventually Christina found her ability cute and hugged it regardless. Afterwards, Kyouka found her nature to be really sweet, honest, and kind that it melted her heart. Christina also saved Kyouka many times that she couldn’t help but love her too. She now considers Christina as an older sister figure and looks up to her a lot.

Atsushi Nakajima has the deepest and closest connection with Christina. They instantly became best friends within a few days. Since they both have so much in common regarding their personalities and their past experiences it was hard not to form a deep bond over time. After nearly 10 months Atsushi realizes how deeply in love he is with her and confesses his feelings to Christina before the Cannibalism arc. They have gone through many relationship hardships before realizing they love each other and will do anything to make the relationship work. After a few major arcs during the relationship it really defined their strengthened bonds with each other and made their love deeper. They both worked out their issues together and communicated to keep their love strong. Atsushi and Christina finally got married and settled down after five years of dating.

Ryunosuke Akutagawa didn’t like her at first either since he thought she was fake and two faced. He often provoked Atsushi by berating her openly in front of him. However, after being forced to work together on a couple missions with Dazai, Akutagawa slowly begins to respect her and recognize how powerful her abilities are. Christina often teases him and playfully messes with him to get him to lighten up. Akutagawa finds it annoying and gets flustered a lot. He used to have a small crush on her also before he moved on and saw the relationship between her and his rival Atsushi.

Higuchi Ichiyo didn’t like her much in the beginning either. But after competing together in a side beauty competition she develops an admiration for her and often comes to her for relationship advice. They don’t interact often but Higuchi always remained polite and cordial with Christina.

Gin Akutagawa is fairly relaxed around Christina and enjoys talking with her on her days off from the Port Mafia. They don’t interact much but they enjoy taking about most things.

Chuuya Nakahara met Christina upon an accidental encounter while both were shopping for wine. Chuuya did it for himself while Christina picked up some for Akiko and Fukuzawa. After talking for a bit Chuuya found her adorable for being even shorter than him. They don’t interact much but they find mutual respect with each other over annoying conflicts with Dazai.

10. How do the other characters feel about your self insert and f/o’s relationship?

Most of the Armed Detective Agency members find their relationship adorable and wholesome. Especially Ranpo, Akiko, and Dazai tease them over how ridiculously cute Atsushi and Christina are as a couple.

The Port Mafia members however find their relationship so cute that it’s disgusting. Higuchi seems to be the exception since she finds them adorable regardless. Akutagawa and Chuuya find them ridiculous and often tease Atsushi for having a girlfriend.

15. How does your self insert play a role in the plot of the story? Do they help directly defeat the villain, support the heroes, etc.?

She’s considered a tritagonist or third main character in the story. She may not be a main character but she’s just as important as Atsushi Nakajima and Osamu Dazai. She becomes the key in defeating and killing Fyodor with her ultimate form as a snake goddess. She’s mostly support for the Armed Detective Agency but if they’re in a crisis situation she can easily become a powerful fighter as an ace-in-the hole card character.

16. Freebie! name a fact about your self insert you want everyone to know.

Despite being seen as a dense or ditzy young lady, she’s surprisingly a lot smarter than most people think. Christina often plays dumb to find out intel from the Port Mafia or Guild if she has to. She has managed to almost outsmart Dazai and Ranpo in intellectual games or missions. She’s very academically gifted and has even skipped a couple of grades to graduate early from secondary school. She’s not street smart though and has been nearly taken advantage of by people on the streets had it not Akiko or Dazai have been there. She’s also somewhat naive and idealistic like Atsushi.

Thank you so much love! Here’s the link to the game if you want to ask more questions! 🌹✨

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wild-houseplant · 1 year

Note

for the romanticism asks, rhodri 7 (If your OC could meet any historical or past figure, whether in the real world or in their own canon lore, who would it be and why?)

Hey hi hello! :D :D Thank you for stopping by friendo!!

Ok so Rhodri's first preference is Zevran's mother, which I go into detail in this ask- answer here, god bless that poor woman's soul.

Preference number two is someone Rhodri has personally always been dying to meet.

The tl;dr of it is: Great Uncle Ab was a man of myth and legend, recounted in sparkling odes to Rhodri via a family friend. He was the first person to make a cactus sing. He built a bridge entirely out of shoelaces. He sang the Kirkwall national anthem in front of the then-Viscount but, having forgotten the words, made them up on the spot. The anthem was changed immediately after.

Great Uncle Ab had apparently made an absolute fortune in the invention of epoxy resin, and used this to make toast sundials that were all the rage in the first decade of the Blessed Age. He managed to lose most of said fortune after hiding it in a few different spots and forgetting them all. Great Uncle Ab was a fucking marvel. Rhodri would have punted Dorian Pavus into a Korcari bog to meet Great Uncle Ab.

The story of how Great Uncle Ab is linked with the family below. It's a ramble.

Now, for a little context: Rhodri insisted, at age three, that she was going to do research like her father. When she wasn't watching her siblings, she was marching into the library to join him and do her own work.

Naturally, Aurelio was thrilled with her enthusiasm, but it's very hard to actually do the academia gig with a talkative toddler squirming in your lap. To help things along, he indulged her for about a week, giving her activities of progressive size until she submitted a compelling thesis on the Friday and 'graduated' Saturday.

(the thesis was a full-colour picture of the family that hangs in Aurelio's office to this day)

As a reward for her excellent work, Aurelio had promised that she got to have a research assistant to help her with her next projects, now that she was graduated and teeming with Terribly Important Ideas.

The research assistant in question was named Tabitha ('Auntie Tab' to Rhodri), who prior to her current position had sold books at the Hightown Market. Aurelio had become a very familiar face at her stall over the years, and she was regularly invited to come over. Auntie Tab was a good eighty years old when she declared to Aurelio that she'd have to close up shop, as it was wearing her out, and Magister Callistus announced to her that she would be moving in with them. Auntie Tab, who had lost all of her relatives a few decades earlier and lived alone, accepted with alacrity.

Auntie Tab, to no-one's surprise, was well cut-out for the academic life, and she and the three-year-old Rhodri had always gotten on like a house on fire. You can imagine how thrilled she was to find out that Auntie Tab was going to help out with Big and Important Projects.

Auntie Tab, who had raised three kids of her own (don't think on that too much), was a fantastic teacher, and in their Research Collection and Evaluation sessions often regaled Rhodri with tales of Great Uncle Ab. Tab and Ab.

Auntie Tab thought it'd be a good idea, seeing as Rhodri was a little slow to develop language, to encourage her vocabulary by using particularly grand descriptions of Great Uncle Ab and his thrilling pursuits. When Rhod was starting to trot out the big words, Tabitha wrote the stories down to teach her reading and writing; her grand thesis at four was the alphabet-- in both upper and lowercase, and reading aloud the story of how Great Uncle Ab invented the postal system after 5yo Auntie Tab (at the time a serial mail thief) pilfered unopened correspondence from the Viscount's writing desk, and Great Uncle Ab had to find an excuse to hand the letters back to him.

Ok now I just want to write stories about Tab and Ab's grand adventures. My condolences if you read all this, Bumbles, I'll end it here xD

#Thank you for the ask and dear god the ADHD is strong today. How many segues?#Askin' games #Rhodri Amell #Auntie Tab #Great Uncle Ab #Tab and Ab #Aurelio Callistus

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heremoer · 2 years

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STARLING • SOLÈNE D. HEREMOER

𝑖. skeleton. 𝑖𝑖. application. 𝑖𝑖𝑖. stats. 𝑖𝑣. connections. 𝑣. core

OVERVIEW

full name, solène d. heremoer age, twenty - six, born aug. 7, 1967 pronouns, she + her family, none — “sole survivor” relationship status, single, never married employment, current archivist and professional scammer, past secretary, past personal assistant, past librarian, past heiress, past art collector, etc.

TIMELINE / BIOGRAPHY ( copied from the application, a little edited )

trigger warning for the following: mention of childbirth complication, death by illness, infidelity (she’s a home-wrecker), theoretical murder

1967-1970 ( devana vyas ): solène is born. her mother nearly dies during childbirth and solène’s sisters (and her mother, ngl) takes it as a Sign. either way, bad luck continuously befalls the family, but solène is saved and lucky every single step of the way. how unfortunate, since she’s already unwanted but now she’s resented, too.

1971 ( devana vyas ): her father and sisters die from fever. while her mother recovers, solène is the only one of her family to never contract the illness at all. in her hatred and resentment, her mother abandons her.

1976 ( evangeline gallegos ): after being given several names, she’s sent to stay with the rawlings family, who agreed to house her out of the very goodness of her hearts (foster her for a full orphanage). unfortunately, she is a menace and sends the rawlings daughter into a thorn bush, thus giving her a terrible scar and loses her place in the house.

1977-1981 ( noor valpuri ): is kicked out of an orphanage after displaying troubling behavior, which then sends her directly to an academy for troubled young women in invicta, nova terrae. it is not her first brush with the beast, but it is the first time that she really understands that this is simply a game that she must play.

1981-1985 ( juliet yu ): after being deemed no longer troubled, solène graduates and is sent to attend a finishing school in northern novae terrae where the matron and staff are beast-fearing. they teach her the ways of girlhood and encourage her to curate a relationship with the beast. it is also the first time she really understands her power, but it is not the first time she causes trouble for the sake of it.

1986 ( xxx ): she receives her desire and is watched.

1987 ( emilia soto ): entertains a married man, the first of many, and — his fate is a mystery, but solène becomes very good friends with the ex-wife. she also is called and judged, but considers it the least important thing that happens this year.

1988 - 1990 ( solène d. heremoer ): her active years with the caedes corvi. instead of feeling home among people like her, she is overcome with envy because: she is not the only one chosen by the beast (obviously) and the other members are way cooler than her.

1990 ( aneliya dedic ): the end of the caedes corvi. she’s fine with it. her debt is paid. she “moves on” and takes down a wealthy ring of families in eastern novae terrae. she’s secretly still upset that she is not awarded coolest caedes corvi member.

1990-1992 ( octavia deusdedit ): spends time in rome, where she becomes an archivist with a “totally legit” anthropology degree. she scams from time to time, but it’s so dreadfully boring when god is no longer taking a special interest in you. anyway, she lounges around and laments.

EXTRAS

— character parallels: alicent hightower ( fire and blood / hotd ), kim ki-jung ( parasite ), callum nova ( the atlas six ), lily ( black swan ), anna karenina ( anna karenina ), lady macbeth ( macbeth ), fleabag ( fleabag ), charlotte hale ( westworld ), mercutio ( romeo and juliet )

— character personality tests: mbti ( enfp ), enneagram ( 7w8, opportunist ), moral alignment ( chaotic evil, unfortunately ), h*gwarts house ( the evil one )

#intro.

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the-storm-of-ruin · 7 months

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Tamer-Sona Info:

Full Name: Avaleigh Flynn

Nickname: N/A Will hit you

Birthday: December 24th

Gender: Female

Height: 5'5

Weight: 115

Digivice Model: Red D-Hora

PERSONAL INFO:

Occupation: Florist's assistant

Hobbies: Restoration; fixing appliances and general handy work

Orientation: Queer

Birthplace: Southern California

Personality:

On the surface, Avaleigh is curt and apathetic, hardly ever giving other people the time of day. She's honest and direct when spoken to, but tends to keep details about herself as limited as possible and ends the conversation as quickly as possible. Calm and rational she prefers to take a moment to decide the best course of action than rush in without a plan. However, that's not to say she hesitates, it never takes her long to reach a conclusion and once she puts her mind to something it's next to impossible to sway her. More than happy to slink in the background, she's developed a keen eye for observation.

Mood:

Generally calm, she's willing to face any challenge that comes her way, hardly ever making a fuss about situations she has no control over. When it comes to people however, she's very quick to anger, it doesn't take much to make her to snap.

Has a particular pet peeve towards people asking stupid questions

Expressiveness:

Next to none, she's mostly aloof through out the day and it's difficult to get a reaction from her that's not snarky. She prefers to keep any kind of soft emotion buried under lock and key. With Freya the only soul to see her softer side. On rare occasions her facade will crack and glimpses of what she been hiding. You can catch glimpses of the gentleness she guards so closely while she works, though if she notices you watching she'll clam up again, and maybe throw something.

STORY INFO:

Background:

Avaleigh grew up in a orphanage, the older she got the more she realized she'd probably never be adopted. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but she soon decided that it was everyone else's problem. She began teaching herself skills to be self sufficient, she didn't need anyone. No longer looking for other's approval, she began developing the problematic habit of picking fights, eventually getting to the point where she would be expelled. From there the rotation of schools just continued. When she was fifteen the most exciting thing of her entire life happened, she stumbled into a portal and met Freya. The two had their fair share of adventures in the digital world, but she never really connected with anyone other than Freya. When the opportunity to return home arose, she decided she never wanted to leave. The two spent years living together running from their problems, but it couldn't last forever. Her home began to crumble, the digital world was in danger and there was only one thing she could think to do.

*Note: Keeps the fact that she lived in the Digital World for a secret.

**She learned to play the guitar while in the Digital World

Current Situation:

Now back in the real world, Avaleigh struggled to make enough money to support herself and Freya. Since she never graduated high school finding a job to support herself was hard. She took up odd jobs for cash and began living in a motel, taking up handyman type skills to fix anything that had broken to save money. Which was always tight, so she'd frequent a local bakery for day olds they were about to throw out. That's when she met Danny, the middle aged florist and owner of a store next door called 'Just Dandies'. Danny noticed how often she was coming by and offered a job. Avaleigh was suspicious at first, but she was never pushy and a constant job would be nice and so she began doing any odd job Danny set out for her.

With a steady job Avaleigh has been able to rent a small apartment for herself and Freya, who's still a secret; no pets allowed. However, the neighbors are quiet and they mind their own business, so it works for her. By day, she's a florist's assistant. By night, she works hard to uncover anything she can about the Digital World's situation. Some days her nightlife spills into tiredness the next day, she's never late or makes excuses, but Danny sees that she's tired and tends to offer her coffee on these days. Danny will lie and say the barista made a mistake and gave her two drinks to get her to accept the gift. Avaleigh knows she's lying, but appreciates the effort.

DIGIMON INFO:

"Freya" the Chiondramon

Level: Rookie

Family: Nature Spirit/Dragon's Roar

Attribute: Virus

Personality:

Freya has buckets of ambition; she wants to reach the top and will do anything to finish her goals. Even if it requires her to be manipulative at times. Although she doesn’t go looking for people to interact with, she tends to be polite to everyone she comes across. They could be useful after all. She can be highly suspicious, especially of overly kind strangers. However, those she does trust, she’s completely faithful to them. In battle, she relies heavily on her intuition to guide her so far, it’s been working out okay. Tends to have a bit of a jealous streak, if she sees people getting close to her tamer, she’ll get clingy and sit in her lap, throwing glares and possibly even nipping at people getting too touchy with her. She’ll say anything on her mind, doesn’t always necessarily mean to be rude. In her mind she’s just telling the truth.

Background:

When Freya met Avaleigh she was still at in-training level. The portal had spat this human out in the frozen tundra of the digital world. Originally she wanted nothing to do with her, but she sat and watched as the girl made a shelter and refused to just take her situation lying down. After spending days watching, Avaleigh eventually called out to her, telling her that she knew she was watching her. From then on, they were inseparable. They traveled the Digital World together, always eager for the next adventure they were never satisfied with settling down.

Special Ability:

Capable of flying short distances

Can walk on four and two legs interchangeably, but prefers to run on all fours

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autismcental234 · 1 year

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Autism Remedy For Youngsters

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She is keen about this subject and enjoys the people she’s worked with, including colleagues and households. Joanne pursued her BCaBA and later accomplished a master’s program in Applied Behavior Analysis on the Chicago School of Professional Psychology where she graduated in 2014 and obtained her BCBA. Joanne is constantly learning and grateful for having an opportunity autism learning centre to work within her group every single day. Mari Aceves, ED. D, DSW, BCBA acquired two doctorate degrees to support her work in ABA. She earned a doctorate in Educational Leadership with a P-12 emphasis and one in Social Work . She is a BCBA with over 10 years of expertise working with individuals with autism and other developmental disabilities.

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Kristi went on to complete her Master’s Degree in Psychology with an emphasis in Applied Behavior Analysis. She labored her means up to a supervisory position and earned her board certification in 2016. Kristi has worked primarily with youth and adolescence and also has some extra autism learning centre experience working with grownup populations in group houses. She enjoys teaching others ABA and has devoted herself to enhancing the standard of services delivered to our shoppers.

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mull3ts · 2 years

Text

— 2021.

hey shawties <3

another day, another slay. TAKE THIS POST AS A TUMBLR WRAPPED EXCEPT IM DOING IT AHA. anyways, this year was rather eventful 🤨 i hope you've all had a good year, MINE WAS LIKE A SOLID 8/10 THERE'S GONNA BE TWO MAYBE THREE IMPORTANT THINGS THIS POST IS GONNA CONTAIN SO LETS START.

1. I graduated :D

bWAHAHHAHHHAHHAAHAH i finally graduated college like a total girboss. ik what you're thinking, i WAS IN COLLEGE?

y e a h

i girlbossed, got by bachelor's of science in psychology, and am now an assistant professor in abnormal psychology thEn after i finish a semester of assisting in that i was offered to teach forensic psychology :D because i got a minor in, yk it doesnt matter aNyWAYS SO YEAH THAT'S, THAT'S WHAT I'LL BE DOING.

2. IM GETTING MARRIED???????

yeah ik that sounds really weird to say and to type out, bUT IM GETTING MARRIED????

idk when to tell yall but here we are 🙄 IM MARRYING YOUR PADRE THIS FEELS REALLY WEIRD TO TYPE OUT WTF anywhosies but now his era of always going to tiffany makes sense now. IK WHAT YOU MIGHT BE THINKING, MADRE??? WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN??? WHEN DID HE PROPOSE??? it happened like on my birthday i cnant. anywhosies- it's happening. in the spring. because I LIKE HOW IT LOOKS OUTSIDE IN THE SPRING AND I HAVE THIS FILM THING CALLED EKTACHROME 100 SPEED AND ITS FUCKING PRETTY. SO I WILL BE A MARRIED WOMAN, IN THE SPRING.

I FEEL SO AMAZED YET ODD, IS 22 YOUNG TO BE MARRIED? I HAVE NO CLUE IM JUST YOLO-ING. SOMEBODY ASK ME A FUCKING QUESTION TO MAKE SURE THAT IM SURE ABOUT YOUR PADRE BECAUSE YES I DO LOVE HIM SO VERY MUCH OH MY GOD THIS IS HAPPENING TO ME.

i need to breathe 🤨

tO cLARIFY THO I AM NOT LEAVING RIGHT NOW, I WILL PROB MAKE MY DEPARTURE FROM THIS BLOG IN A FEW MONTHS SO DONT WORRY! :D

3. the blog.

whAT'S GONNA HAPPEN TO THE BLOG??? LUCKY FOR YOU ALL WHEN I MAKE MY DEPARTURE FROM THIS BLOG IN THE SPRING/SUMMER, THE BLOG IS JUST GONNA GET REBRANDED :D the one and only, @je-no will be the admin of this blog, SO YOU'LL GET CAM, SHOW CAM LOVE SHE'S GREAT, SHE'S MY BBGORL YALL, MY IRL WIFE GO SAY HI TO HER CAMILLA MY BBYGORL, MY SLUT IF YOU SEE THIS I LOVE YOU WHAT A BISEXUAL ICON SHE IS I DONT KNOW WHY I MENTIONED THAT I LOVE HER anyways all that's prob gonna change about is the url, layout, and admin. the url is gonna change to @/mull3ts SO IF YOU SEE THIS BLOG BECOME THAT YK WASSUP.

ikik, MADRE WE WILL MISS YOU, I WILL MISS YOU TOO. so for that very reason the @/earth-to-that-asian url will become a side blog that i'll still check every now and then if you still wanna contact me from the grave or ask if i have a kid or got a divorce, but im sure cam will prob give you abi life updates. she'll queue all of those beautiful drafts i have and still give you more of what's expected, nct dilf and stepbro so you all will still be fed with quality content.

Surprise, surprise—camilla the great loves dilfs

I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING ELSE WHEN I ACTUALLY LEAVE THO DW :D show camilla love and she will return it by marrying you and calling you her bitch, i promise she doesn't bite, gO TALK TO HER, SEND HER AN ASK RN AT @je-no

m'kay, now that everything is absolutely out of the way, i'd like to thank anyone who's honestly ever come in contact with this blog because it honestly means so much. to all my moots, anons, and everyone ever, from the bottom of my heart—thank you. my heart esp goes out to my shawties who've deactivated, you are never forgotten to me babes. i hope you all have an amazing 2022, ONLY THE BEST FOR THE GIRLS, GAYS AND THEYS—DEMOLISH 2022 WITH THE SHEER FORCE OF DAT ASS

— sincerely, abi.

look at that ass, look at that fucking ass. do you shit with that ass babygorl? dayum shawty u thicc asf gimme sum of that...

happy 2022 <33

#oUCH #madre abi's yearly statement #abt.txt #oH MY GOD HAPPY NEW YEAR TOO #LORD I AM SO SCARED TO PUBLICLY SAY THESE THINGS JESUS TAKE THE FUCKING WHEEL

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honey-coloured-passion · 3 years

Text

dream smp high school au and what they'd teach:

i had to get it out of my system but i'm so happy with how these turned out

mr notfound: engineering (the engineering teacher never really teaches and kinda sits in his office but the entire school simps for him so there's always a teacher hanging with him. his curriculum is free form and an easy A but genuinely pretty damn fun)

mr. nap: gym (hes the nice gym teacher who says screw the pacer test and rope climbing and you guys just play basketball after running like 2 laps. he's super gullible and will let anyone sit out for any semblance of pain. that is until the film teacher comes into the gym, then he's a tryhard beating freshman up to make layups on lowered hoops)

mr. wastaken: physics (the coolest class that always does crazy expiriments with large falling objects and questionable usage of dry ice, people always think his experiments are fake but he'll be the first to give a class long lecture on why every single piece of his work is 100% accurate. there was this one incident when he used the engineering teacher to explain torque and it ended with mr. notfound being caught in his arms. there's pictures but he still denys it.)

mr. blade: advanced english lit (mr. blade has no time for freshmen and if he does like a frosh into his class they've gotta he the damn best. his class is based on old literature analysis and storytelling. his favorite unit being greek mythology. most of his assignments aren't just boring essays or stressful discussion. no one truly knows what mr. blades class is like until you've taken it, they're often heard chanting "blood for the blood god" before exams but the principal is yet to do anything about it.)

mr. awsamdude: comp sci/coding (sam is the teacher everyone adores, there's usually at least two people crying in his office before and after school but he always knows what will cheer them up! he tries to work closely with mr. notfound but he's busy with the physics prof so sam has gotten really close with his TA tubbo. they do all kinds of coding competitions and his class is known to be a safe haven for students of all kinds- "coding is for everyone!" he always chants)

ms. nihachu: art (known for the classroom with the best vibes niki insists on dropping the ms. and formalitys. she's the teacher with lofi playing and bean bags and couches in her beautifully decorated classroom. she has an open classroom meaning anyone can come in anytime and she is dedicated to making sure no one eats lunch alone. a couple times a year she goes on a huge rant about loving oneself and the value of not judging others, needless to say everyone adores her - especially the theatre kids as her class is constantly helping them with set design)

mr. soot: music/theatre (does he have a degree? unknown. does he teach anything besides music? couldnt tell ya. mr soot roams the halls during class hours that aren't his one choir period; popping into various classes to pretend to be a student or just all around goof off. his theatre program however, one of the best. he makes the most extravagant plays and musicals with barely any budget. after his show goes on he goes dark for like 2 weeks straight "recuperating" but no one questions because that kind of genius needs resting)

mr. frost: math (ant and red would TOTALLY teach math together and it would be so cute everyone would see them walk in and out of school together and ship them and their classroom would be a safe space for people to come out or even just hangout. ant would be a crazy good teacher who is understanding and not one of those asshole math teachers. he's the one everyone always wants to have haha)

mr. jacobs: film/freshman history (mr jacobs is the freshman heartthrob and senior best friend. he teaches film as history, film as lit, and frosh history - basically the easiest classes, but he makes them the most fun. in his lit classes they watch cartoons and search for literature similarities or historical evidence. in his history classes he goes on grand lectures often standing on tables to reenact his favorite history moments. occasionally he brings in his friends to re create a massive fight in front of all the history classes, it's scuffed but everyone always looks forward to them)

ms. puffy: head counselor (ms puffy is the sweetest soul and often is helping students with everything from their personal lives to college. she assigns the TA's and classrooms and works closely with mr minecraft to make the school as conducive of a learning environment as possible.)

mr. minecraft: the principal, the big man himself, mr fuckin minecraft. (he constantly looks sleep deprived and exhausted but he loves the students and teachers with his whole heart. he takes no shit from annoying parents or asshole students and is known to ban the entitled cruel students from all his favorite teachers classes, leaving them with the worst teachers. usually he can be found telling dream he can't have more money for explosives, begging wilbur to sleep and rest, and telling techno he's gonna have to teach a english 9 class eventually. that and dealing with his new TA's.)

our lovely teacher assistants:

ranboo: english TA (thought he was gonna get art with niki but puffy out him with the blade. originally he was terrified but he's growing on mr. blade with his deep analytical thoughts and similar dry humor. granted- he does have the most work of all the TA's because mr. blade makes him grade all the multiple choice tests, but he's really starting to love the english classroom.)

tubbo: comp sci TA (tubbo had been begging to be sam's TA since freshman year where he took almost all the coding classes in one year. plus, the computer science room is right next to the physics room in the science wing so he can pop over and see tommy all the time. tubbo and sam stay in the computer lab way later than philza should allow but they've made magnificent codes for the school. everytime tubbo points out he's graduating soon sam starts to tear up, but he knows tubbos gonna do big things, he's just gonna miss his goofy TA.)

tommy: physics TA (the pounding philza got on his office door when tommy didn't get wilbur was ground shaking. puffy and philza calmly explained that tommy has a knack for physics if he would just focus and genuinely learn from dream. "big D" as tommy calls him, wasnt jazzed either. their year as TA and teacher started rocky but dream would come to realize that tommy is more talented than he lets on and after speaking to wilbur and puffy he realized there was a damn good reason he was given tommy. he took it upon himself to turn tommy into the best student he could be. and tommy isn't one to back down from a fight. little did he know this year would be the best year yet.)

i'm so happy with this and i actually think i might expand it idkkkk :)))

#also there's a few inconsistencies like tommy irl says he hates math and physics but shhhh it works better #this makes me so happy n for what #dream smp #dreamwastaken #mcyters #dreamnotfound #dnf #karlnap #mcyter #sapnap #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #ranboo #georgenotfound #captain puffy #nihachu #mr wastaken #tubbolive #karl jacobs

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spookysanta · 3 years

Text

The TA - two. (h.c., c.e.)

Summary: everything about this situation is...weird.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

here’s part two! she’s a bit lengthy, fyi. enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

After a couple of days, she’d gotten used to the formality that is Professor Chris Evans (and company). She’d gotten used to the emails that open with, “I hope this message finds you well”, even though it rarely did.

So thanks, Chris, for the well-wishes but no thank you.

The first day of Fall classes was stressful, to say the least. She woke up later than she intended for her 8 a.m. class, then she got lost on her trip from one lecture hall to another, and by the time she had to get to Franklin for Chris’ class, she was practically running across campus. She burst into the lecture hall two minutes before class was set to begin. Walking to the main podium where Chris stood preparing for that day’s lecture, she breathed out, “Sorry I’m late.”

He turned to her with a smirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a rough day is all.” She waved him off, completely ignoring the loud slam of the lecture hall’s doors. A figure emerged next to her holding a tray of coffees from The Bistro.

“Good morning!” Henry greeted, clearly having a better day than she was. He offered Chris a cup, then set the tray down on the desk that sat adjacent to the presenter’s podium, taking the other two and offering one to her. She thanked him quietly. “You ready?” he asked Chris.

Chris laughed. And for the first time, she laughed along with him. And seeing it firsthand, she could tell they had a good relationship by the way they interacted. She could tell that Chris genuinely enjoys Henry’s company as his TA, and not just for the things that he does to be helpful—they have a good thing. “Yeah, I’m ready—I’m excited. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“No problem. It was on my way here.”

She felt out of place as they engaged in banter.

She looked around the steadily filling classroom and saw students from all walks of life; she’ll admit, that’s one of the only perks of college in her mind—there was always someone for everyone. There are all kinds of people from different races, religions, creeds—all gathering to pursue higher education. In that respect, she found college to be interesting. But in any other regard, she hated it.

Henry took note of her silence, “Are you excited, (Y/N)?”

She turned to him sharply, not having anticipated him addressing her so suddenly. She nodded curtly, “Yep.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Chris retorted as he set up his laptop to broadcast a slideshow on the projector screens that took up nearly all of the space on the wall behind them. “C’mon, this is going to be fun!”

She offered them a dry chuckle as she watched the screens illuminate with a bright white background and black lettering that read:

WELCOME TO CHEMISTRY 120, SECTION D346-0

PROFESSOR CHRIS EVANS, D. SC.

HENRY CAVILL AND (Y/N) (Y/L/N), GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE TAs

Yeah, that’s totally not intimidating. “Ooh,” Henry nudged her with his elbow, “look at that—you’re official.” He turned to her, pointing an index finger at the screens. “Listen, this is going to be no big deal.”

“You sound like him.” She pointed to Chris, who was hooking up a small microphone that he would connect to his shirt.

“Well I mean it. You’ll be fine. The most we’re going to have to do is pass out papers and introduce ourselves—easy peasy.”

She hummed in understanding. “Mhm.” She took a big gulp from her coffee cup, its liquid now only warm from Henry’s commute. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Henry shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good morning, class.” Chris spoke into the microphone, his voice projecting through the speakers in the room. The chatter among students died down quickly. “I’m Professor Evans and welcome to Chemistry 120, section D346-0.” She noticed that he was like her—he fidgeted, too. His hands were behind his back, but she could see him fiddling with the remote that was in them. One hand was wrapped around his opposite wrist, and his free hand twirled the remote between his fingers.

“I’d like for my TAs to introduce themselves. They’ll be helping you a lot this semester.”

He took a handheld microphone from behind the podium and turned it on, handing it to Henry. “I’m Henry, I’m a graduate TA studying microbiology.” He stated with a muted wave. “I’ve been working with Professor Evans for about four semesters now, so I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.” He handed the microphone to her, his thumb brushing hers when she took it. Their eyes met briefly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m an undergraduate student studying bio. This is my first semester as a TA for this class so I’m very excited to work with all of you.” There. That was easy enough. Henry looked to her with a small smile.

“Alright,” Chris spoke up after she handed him the microphone to be put away, “so I’ll be quick with the introductory stuff—I know no-one wants to hear me drone on about safety procedures for the next ninety minutes.” He gestured to a stack of papers that sat on the desk. “Could you pass those out?” he asked Henry and (Y/N) politely.

Henry nodded, effortlessly picking up the large stack of papers. He approached her and instructed in a whisper, “Take half.” She grabbed a substantial stack of papers, making her way across half of the lecture hall and handing students a sheet of paper going by rows, mimicking the movements that Henry made. They both made it to the middle; there they stood on a walkway that connected to the path that led to the front of the room. He followed behind her back to the podium as they awaited their next tasks.

“So, what you just got are information forms. We’re going to read them, go over the most important stuff, then at the end, you’ll sign them, and they’ll be collected.” Chris cleared his throat, beginning to read from the page, only really emphasizing the important aspects of the course.

She took a page off the stack, reading as he spoke.

COURSE POLICIES:

No food/drink/snacks in the lecture hall or lab (water in a clear container is allowed)

No electronics of any kind are allowed in the lab

Late work will not be accepted in any capacity

All paper assignments must be turned in at the end of each class to TAs

Online work must be submitted before deadline—pages will close after the assigned time

Attendance (especially on lab days) is mandatory

All absences are considered unexcused unless otherwise authorized with a note or confirmation e-mail

Now it’s all come full circle for her. She can clearly see why a lot of his previous students called him a hard ass. And majority of the policies he listed, she doesn’t even plan to uphold herself. So how could she expect three-hundred students—freshmen, at that—to comply?

The policies were reasonable, sure, but hard to enforce.

He made sure to emphasize the dress code, late work, and attendance policies; it was apparent that those were real issues among his classes over the years. “Additionally,” he continued after having spoken without stopping for twenty minutes, “this is the only introductory chemistry class I’m teaching this semester, which means everything you submit will be read and graded. There are no grades for completion or participation.”

She heard several students groan. She leaned to Henry, “Wait. He teaches other classes?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “He also teaches upper-level biology and organic chemistry, and he taught a statistics class last year but I’m not sure if he still does.”

Damn. No wonder he was so organized.

And she found that interesting; that definitely explained why he would have her and Henry do a lot of the grading for this class’ assignments. He probably didn’t have time to breathe in between classes, let alone grade three-hundred lab reports.

By the end of his class that seemed never-ending, she was absolutely exhausted. She was having daydreams of her cozy bed when Henry approached her after he finished collecting signed forms from his side of the classroom. “You alright?” Henry asked.

She stifled a yawn, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good class today, guys. I’m really excited for this semester.” Chris gushed, visibly happy with their help.

“Me, too.” Replied Henry. “I think this batch will be better than last semester’s.”

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on last semester’s class.” He shook his head as he began to gather papers and his laptop into his bag. “I’ve never wanted to rip my hair out more than I did last semester.”

Henry laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The two assistants prepared themselves to leave. Before they said their “goodbyes”, Chris asked them to meet with him in his office (as there was another class filing in).

“So,” Chris closed the door to his office, muffling the bustle of the room outside that was quickly filling up with the literature class that started right after theirs. “I wanted to know what you’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Um…” (Y/N) was confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to get a head start on grading these papers and entering everyone’s information into the database.” He pulled the stack of forms from his bag and clamped them together with a binder clip. “So, if you and Henry are free this weekend, that’d really help me out.”

“I’m not busy,” Henry shrugged. “I keep my weekends open anyway.”

She wasn’t busy either, but the weekend to work? This couldn’t wait until later?

“I’ll be free this weekend.” She kept her voice cheery but really regretted not lying when she had the chance.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “We’ll plan for a time for you to come over and we’ll knock it out in an hour or two.” Come over?

“Come over where?” she asked.

“Oh! My house.” Chris clarified, “When Henry and I had a lot of papers to grade, he usually comes over to my place early in the morning, we grade papers, and we go about our day. That’s not an issue for you, is it?”

“No, not at all.” It was a bit odd, though. But she’ll be honest in saying that she found all of this…odd in one way or another.

“Cool.” Henry looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to miss tonight’s game.”

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. “Dammit.” He swore, “I forgot there was a game on tonight.” He stood and grabbed his things, going around his desk to the door, and ushering us out of his office. He shut and locked the door behind them. They walked swiftly and quietly across the front of the classroom and out the door to converse in the hallway. “Alright, you guys. Have a great rest of your day, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.” He waved, then turned and left through the faculty doors.

Henry looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Together, they walked leisurely down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, through the hustle of the “afternoon class rush”.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you think…” she paused, wanting to pick the right words to say. “do you think it’s—I don’t know—odd that Chris wants us to meet at his house to grade papers?”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems weird to me.” Someone who was on their phone bumped into her causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Shit.” She went to grab her book, but Henry picked it up for her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He opened the doors to the lecture hall, where they looked outside and saw that it was pouring. “Wow, it’s really comin’ down out there.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She groaned out loud. “Fuck my life.”

Henry laughed at her misery, “You need a ride?”

“Your car’s fixed?”

“Yeah.” He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “I took it to the shop after our meeting. Obviously I had to call a tow truck before I could get it to the mechanic’s, but I got it there eventually. It’s doing great now in case you were wondering—it almost runs perfectly.”

“I wasn’t.” she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for the information, though.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed playfully. “You want a ride or not?”

She really shouldn’t. This guy, as holy as he is in the eye of the Almighty Chris, could be a monster. He could be a serial killer. He could be plotting to attack her—she’d lost count of how many news stories she’s read about kidnappings on college campuses—and who knows, she could be on his list.

But then again, it was pouring outside, and the walk back to her apartment was long. The air was getting cooler and combined with the darkness of the sky and the time of day, she’d end up with the flu by the end of the afternoon.

“Fine.”

He took his jacket from his shoulders and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it more than me, okay? So put the jacket on.” He commanded.

She didn’t like that he didn’t ask nicely, but she did it anyway. And she wouldn’t tell him out loud, but goodness, his jacket smelled good. Like every kind of good smell that someone would want on a man combined with the smell of men’s shampoo in the hood, she was in heaven. She tried not to let it show but she made sure to take deep inhales through her nose as they journeyed to his car.

They exited the lecture hall, running down the slippery cobblestone sidewalk like the rest of the students in their avoidance of getting wet from the impending storm. He guided her to his car, opening the door for her, then climbed in the driver’s seat. “Whew,” he breathed, buckling his seatbelt. “that was interesting.”

His car was quite nice. She’d expected it to be really junky and out of shape—because of the godforsaken breakdown—but it was surprisingly clean and smelled good, too. Not in a cologne way, but in a “detailed car” way.

“Yeah, it was.” She replied, also trying to catch her breath from running, “You have a nice car.”

“Thank you. I was trying to tell you that earlier, but you didn’t want to believe me.”

“No, I didn’t.” she laughed. “You proved me wrong.”

He revved the engine. “So, where to?”

“Brookwood Heights.”

“Shut up.” He all but exclaimed, his eyes widening to the size of Mars. “I live there!”

Oh, that’s great.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, that’s so funny!” he pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy street. “What a small world.”

They managed to get to their apartment complex without issue. He helped her get all her belongings out of the car, then grabbed his and locked his car before they went inside, the cool air of the complex’s lobby almost smacking them in the face. They trudged to the elevator, entering the small box and leaning against the guardrails in exhaustion. She pressed the 3 on the keypad. “What floor?”

Not looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “3.”

Are you kidding me?

“That’s my floor.”

His head snapped up. “So, we’re floormates, huh?” he smirked.

“I guess so.”

The elevator dinged and they stepped out. It seemed like they were deliberately walking slowly down the hall so that they could see where the other person would drop off, but they just kept walking side-by-side until they got to the very end of the hall. She stopped in front of her door. “Well, this is me.”

He stood at the door across the hall from hers and pointed at the number, “This is me.”

So, they’re neighbors.

They’re co-workers…and now they’re neighbors.

Because of course, life can’t get any more cliché than it already is.

“See you around?” he called to her once he unlocked his front door.

“Yeah, see you around.” She waved with a small smile, opening her front door and stepping into her abode.

Damn, she missed her apartment today. She tossed her keys in the bowl by the door and took off her wet shoes. Then she set her bag on the adjacent counter. She shuffled off her jacket—

Wait.

This wasn’t her jacket. She didn’t wear a jacket today. It was Henry’s jacket.

She wanted to yell. She didn’t feel like being social anymore today. She decided to set the jacket on the coat rack by the front door; that way she’ll be able to bring it to him in the morning. She went to her bedroom and stripped from her wet clothes, going into the restroom and starting a shower.

Finally.

The following days were surprisingly good. She didn’t gripe and moan about the weather—it was rainy every morning that week—Henry rapped on her front door at the same time and offered to drive her to Franklin Hall. Some days, she accepted, and they even stopped at The Bistro if they had the time. Some days she didn’t, and those were the days where Henry seemed more on edge, only to visibly settle when he saw her enter the classroom or laboratory.

Today was Saturday; today was the day that she had to meet at Chris’ house to grade the lab reports from Tuesday and Thursday’s classes.

She wasn’t particularly excited about it.

She had to get up early because Chris wanted to get started at nine a.m., which was ungodly early for a Saturday—or any day, really.

Three knocks sounded sharply on her front door, “You ready?” Henry’s voice bellowed through the wood.

She rushed, opening the front door. “Almost.” She shuffled on a hoodie over her t-shirt, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He entered wordlessly and sat on the first chair he saw, which just so happened to have his jacket laying across the back. “So, I’m assuming this is yours now?”

She looked at the item he was holding. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I meant to give that back. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled at her demeanor, “It’s fine. It’s bad out today, so I don’t mind if you need it.”

“I should be fine, thank you,” she forced her feet into a pair of sneakers, fighting to get her index finger from between the shoe’s fabric and the heel of her foot. “plus, I don’t want to hog your stuff.”

“You’re not hogging anything. If you need it, wear it.”

“But it’s yours.” She threw on her backpack, grabbing her keys, phone and wallet from the bowl by the front door. “Take it.”

“No.” he laid it back in its original position on the chair. “Give it back once the storm passes, okay? I’m just looking out for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile anyway, “Fine. Thank you.” She opened the front door and practically shoving him out of her apartment and down the hall.

“You’re welcome.”

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s started to like Henry’s company. Her goal when everything started was to remain polite and formal, and now…she thinks of him as a friend—which was not her plan.

They rode in a comfortable silence to Chris’ house. He could tell she was stressed. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Her shoulders shrugged, the fabric of her hoodie rubbing against her seatbelt. “I still think going to Chris’ house to grade papers is weird.”

“Nah,” he retorted, “it’s really casual. He makes a pot of coffee, and he even made me breakfast once. It doesn’t usually take long either—in and out.”

“So, I have nothing to be worried about?” she asked, their eyes meeting when he stopped at a red light. “This isn’t a setup for the two of you murder me, right?”

“If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunities before today to do so.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“Thanks for sparing my life, I guess.” She muttered.

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, I’ll say my apartment flooded and we’ll leave. Okay?”

She snorted, “Flooded?”

“Flooded. On fire. Intruder. My cat died. I’ll make something up.” He turned into a neighborhood of houses, pulling into a driveway behind a blue SUV, and shifting the car’s gear into “park”. “Say the word and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

She nodded. She felt the slightest bit better about the situation. She didn’t really know if it was because he was so willing to drive her home, or if it was because he was so willing to drive her home just to keep her comfortable. Nonetheless, she appreciated it. “Okay.”

He reached behind him and pulled his shoulder bag from behind her seat. “And then, when we’re done, we can go to The Bistro and load up on cookies.”

“Their cookies are good…”

“Easily the best cookies I’ve had in a while. So, don’t do this because we’re required to, do this for the incentive of sugar.” He looked at her. “Lots and lots of sugar.”

They got out of his car with their bags and trudged up the driveway’s pavement, him following behind her to the front door. He emerged next to her and rang the doorbell.

Chris opened the door with a smile, “Hey.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t dressed like a professor at all. He was wearing grey sweatpants along with a cobalt blue zip-up jacket that was opened, showing off the white tank top he had on underneath.

And let’s not forget about the cross necklace—a minor addition, but still very important to the outfit.

“Good morning!” Henry cheered.

“Morning.” She greeted timidly.

Henry allowed her to step into the threshold of Chris’ home first. He entered, too, commenting, “Ooh. It smells good in here.”

“You caught me while I was making myself some pancakes—are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat.” Replied Henry as he plopped himself onto the couch in the front room, setting his bag on the coffee table before he sat down.

Chris looked to her, “Pancakes?” he asked simply with a point.

“Sure.” She shuffled off her backpack and sat next to Henry on the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered to herself. She unpacked her bag and set her laptop on the coffee table.

Not a few moments later, the two of them heard Chris shout from the kitchen, “Pancakes!”

Henry hopped up from his seat. He held out his hand in front of her, “C’mon.”

She took it and allowed him to pull her up…his hands were soft. Calloused at the knuckles, but soft, nonetheless. She almost hesitated to let go. But she did, regrettably. She followed him into the kitchen and took a plate from the stack on the counter next to the stove. Henry wasted no time in stacking his plate high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, drowning everything in sticky maple syrup.

She, however, was a bundle of nerves, so she didn’t grab much—only two pancakes and two strips of bacon for herself. Henry balanced his plate, a handful of silverware, and a cup of coffee in his muscular arms and walked carefully back to the living room.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Chris asked, pointing to her plate as he poured the hot coffee from the carafe and into a large mug. “There’s plenty to go around.”

She shook her head politely, “I think I’m good for now.” She took a mug from the counter and held it out to him. “Could you pour me some, please?”

“Of course.” He poured the coffee into her mug a bit more than halfway. He offered her milk from the refrigerator, and she took it, pouring into her mug leisurely. He watched her and said almost in a mumble, “So…how are you liking things?”

“What things?” she replied.

“The position. The class itself—hell, your classes. How are you getting on?”

“Good, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I like the job a lot, and working with you guys. My classes are hard this semester—I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Calculus seems so much more difficult than I remember.”

“Who do you have for that class?” he took a long sip from his mug, leaning his back comfortably against the countertop. “Mackie?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He assigns so much work, I can barely keep up. And his class is in Jackson Hall—on the other side of campus—so I basically have to run to his class in order to get there on time if Henry doesn’t drive me.”

“Henry drives you to class?”

Out of all she said, that’s what he clung to?

“Yeah, most days. Apparently, we’re neighbors in the same complex, and he has a class in Jackson at the same time as mine. I don’t have a car and he does, so it just made sense.”

Chris hummed. “Well, I’m good friends with Mackie; he and I were actually roommates in undergrad. So if you need me to, I can put in a word.”

“A word?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Your studies are important, but so is your job. So if you need to be excused from his class every now and again, or you need help catching up, I can help you.”

“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. She needed this job, yes, but not so much that she feels the need to fall behind on her schoolwork to keep Chris company. “Well, I think I’m fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sure. Anything to help.” He patted a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her flesh, then left the kitchen.

She sat back on the couch next to Henry and timidly ate her breakfast while he and Chris engaged in conversation about the upcoming events in the area.

We do shoulder rubs now? She asked in her brain. He seemed almost…flirty? And when I mentioned Henry driving me to class, he visibly almost tensed. What was that about?

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea for the two of you to go.”

That’s when she started to pay attention. “Go to what?”

“There are student tutoring sessions in Hampton Hall for all undergraduate classes. Generally, I don’t make my students attend because there aren’t any undergraduate TAs in my class. But now, you’re here, so my class is on the roster.” Then, he muttered, “And Henry can take you.”

She nodded, taking her planner out of her bag. “When are they?”

“Thursdays at three. I’ve been told that they usually run about an hour, so it won’t take up all your afternoon. Then, you and Henry can do…whatever.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to her, then back to Chris.

That was strange.

She didn’t question it. She was eager to finish grading her set of papers so that she could shove Henry out the door, get their cookies—that he suggested, and thus, will pay for—and head home to sleep the rest of her day away.

It took them a total of two hours to finish grading that week’s lab reports and put them into Chris’ online gradebook, and put the students’ information into a spreadsheet. After they cleared their trash and put their plates and silverware into the kitchen sink, she all but threw her belongings into her backpack. Henry put his bag over his shoulder, bushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well,” Henry began, taking his car keys from his front pocket and twirling the keychain around his index finger. “we should get going.”

“Sure. I don’t want to keep the two of you busy.” Chris replied as he ushered his two assistants to the front door, his tone not displaying any care for taking up the early part of their afternoon. “Have a great weekend, guys. See you Monday.”

They left and walked quietly side-by-side to Henry’s car. He backed out of the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood and down the street. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked her.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated, “What makes you unsure?”

She almost hesitated to mention it. But there was no logical way Henry didn’t pick up on Chris’ comments throughout their time there. “Chris was just acting weird, is all.”

“Define weird.”

“He kept saying things about you and me carpooling, and he even offered to excuse me from my Calc class with Mackie.” She suddenly found her fingers much more interesting to look at than the road in front of them. “And he touched my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder, actually.”

“You think he was acting out of the ordinary…because he touched your shoulder?”

“No! Well, yes, but he seemed upset when I told him that you and I carpool, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional.”

“If he didn’t think it was professional, he would’ve said so, instead of making snide comments.”

He parked the car in front of The Bistro, then turned it off and turned to her. “Maybe he doesn’t like us hanging out.”

Hanging out? Is that what he called it?

The two of them got out of the car and walked into the cold coffee shop, standing in line behind the last patron. “I don’t know,” she said lowly so as to not disturb the other customers with their conversation. “I just think that it doesn’t make sense for him to be so…intrusive.”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If it’s not what I think it is, he may get offended.”

“I don’t think he will.” It was soon their turn to order. “Six chocolate chip cookies, please.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for their snacks in cash, then moved to the other side of the counter to pick them up. He handed them to her, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat at a table—a similar table to the one they first sat at together, but this one was by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He opened the parchment bag the cookies were in and handed her one. “I will say,” he started with his mouth full, “he seemed off today.”

“See? I knew it—”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s being gross, alright? Everyone has an off-day every now and then.”

The two sat in silence after that. He watched students and professors alike walk past The Bistro, some of them entering the café to enjoy pastries and coffee like they were. He began to bounce his leg on the ball of his foot; something, she noticed, that he couldn’t help but do when he was deep in thought. Either that, or sitting cross-legged and wiggling his foot back and forth.

He cannot sit still. Neither can she usually—but it’s apparent that since she’s met him, he made her feel more comfortable…safe, even. She doesn’t pick at her fingers nearly as much.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” he asked her after a few moments of them silently people-watching. “Are you uncomfortable around him?”

“Not really.” She replied, not knowing exactly how she felt about Chris. She was intrigued by him, yes; she found him attractive, certainly; but she still didn’t know him. And because of that, she seemed to be more on edge when speaking to him. Henry wasn’t anything like that.

“A part of me just has a feeling that he’s coming onto me.”

He coughed, almost choking on his lemonade. “Like, romantically?”

“Yeah. That’s what it seems like.”

He hummed in response. He got up and threw away his trash and hers, offering a hand to help her stand. They soon left The Bistro. He opened the car door for her, then pulled out of the parking lot.

The atmosphere shifted. She knew that there was some form of attraction towards him from her, but was it reciprocated? She didn’t know, but judging by the way his eyebrows were persistent in their angry furrowing, there was something wrong with what she said at the restaurant.

They eventually got back to their complex. He didn’t say a word to her on their trek from the lot to their hallway. “G’night.” He said simply, unlocking his front door and shutting it behind him.

***

Tags (DM to be removed): @lady-x-red @justtwhst @lokisbitch27 @boundtomyfate @cyberdoshee @liquorlaughslove @heroine-of-color

#Chris Evans #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black woman #chris evans x black reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x black woman #henry cavill x black reader #chris evans x poc!reader #henry cavill x poc!reader #the TA #the TA fic #professor!chris evans #college student!henry cavill

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kechiwrites · 3 years

Text

tension headache

Ground Zero x Publicist!Reader

wc: 2.2k

��Being Ground Zero’s publicist comes with its own set of challenges, luckily there are quite a few benefits to sweeten the deal.” warnings: anal play, dirty talk, light degradation, light spanking, d/s undertones (or overtones w/e), bakugo being the king of bullies

author’s note: i’ve been writing this since august and it’s finally done. special thanks to @lady-bakuhoe, @some-kindofgnome, and @nightly-tales for betaing!

Your head is throbbing. The sort of building tension headache you became most familiar with in high school; the kind that starts in the morning and gets stronger with every little irritant. You’re sure it's a tension headache from having your shoulders hunched up to your ears most of the day, a seemingly ever-constant by-product of trying to keep Pro Hero Ground Zero from biting a journalism student's head off. The obscenely large TV hanging above the receptionist’s desk plays Ground Zero’s greatest hits on mute as your heels click-clack towards the steel and glass elevators.

It’s almost the end of his patrol and you know he’ll be up soon, sidekicks and assistants (two this month, because the first had the good sense to resign soon, lucky bastard) in tow. Four consecutive texts rattle your phone in your pocket to confirm this. Each one an iteration of “on our way up!.” Waving at his secretary, you let yourself into his office setting your purse on the floor. Further behind you can already hear the clamor of voices and activity that announces Ground Zero’s arrival, people no doubt scurrying out of his warpath lest they incur his wrath. He pushes open the heavy door and says nothing to acknowledge your presence.

Your forehead throbs with irritation at the snub. You know it’s only a matter of time before either of you begin to push the other’s buttons but your employer seems to have a secondary quirk he uses only for you.

You like to call it Extreme Irritation.

“Would it kill you to be nicer to the press?” You give first, sitting on the overstuffed leather couch pushed against the easternmost wall underneath a frankly, unnecessarily large, framed photo of U-A’s graduating class. “Why do you insist on making my job so hard?”

“Can’t pay you for fucking nothing,” he scoffs, leaning against the desk in the center of his office. Carefully he divests himself of his gauntlets, handing one to his senior assistant, and placing its twin onto the desk next to his big gaudy nameplate, muttering; “Take this to Yumikawa, I think I broke the fucking thing.” When he’s halfway past the threshold, Ground Zero adds, “And tell her to do better with her shitty paint jobs!” His gaze snaps to the newest recruit, a tiny shivering thing who looks like a stiff wind could blow her over, “What the fuck are you standing there for? Go with him! Do I have to fucking tell you everything?”

She practically leaves a dust cloud in her wake. You roll your eyes and begin reading through news updates on your tablet, nails clicking lightly against the screen. Tweet after tweet and article after article summarize Ground Zero’s latest exploit, every title and byline more sensational than the last.

“Ground Zero Overshadows Daring Rescue with Another Tirade!”

“Is Ground Zero the Meanest Pro-Hero Ever?!”

‘imagine ground zero calling you stupid 🥴 #imahole’

You could almost laugh if it weren’t for the startlingly large amount of retweets on that last one. Finally, the pro hero deigns to address you; “I did as you asked, I smiled, I laughed, I didn't blow anyone up.” He actually sounds proud. You blubber in shock. “You called the reporter a fuck wit! They can't even air that!” For good measure you hold up the tablet to replay a heavily edited fancam of Ground Zero sneering at some poor junior reporter. “Isn't that what you wanted? Less of my insults on TV?” He is so smug, it drives you crazy. “Not like that!” You toss the tablet onto the couch beside you and stand, stomping towards Bakugo, who’s leaning against his desk, clenching his jaw, arms crossed, as if he didn’t spend the entire morning making you wish you’d never laid eyes on him. The two of you are growing more and more irritated with each other and it’s evident in the rapidly rising volume of your conversation.

"I'm serious, if you want to be ‘Number One’,” you stress through your teeth, “people have to like you, at least a little bit. That. Includes. The. Press.” Every word is punctuated with a strong poke to his sternum, and you try to ignore the pain of jabbing your finger into his brick wall of a chest. It feels as though the pristine white collar of your button-up shirt is digging into your throat while you try to restrain yourself from biting his stupid, perfect nose off.

Now it’s Bakugo’s turn to roll his eyes, “People like me.” He looks to his sidekicks for confirmation and you pointedly ignore them bobbing their heads in unison.

“Who?! Who are these people that like you?”

Bakugo gestures wildy at his sidekicks, “They like me!”

“They’re afraid of you! They respect you but they don’t like you!” You shake your head in disbelief.

“You like me!” He barks at you.

You almost choke on your surprised laughter. He really was absolutely ridiculous.

“I have to like you, you pay me!”

“That’s right. I sign your cheques, you deal with all the media bullshit and make me look good.”

“You make it impossible for me!” If it weren’t for the intense tunnel vision your arguing was giving you, you would have seen Ground Zero’s sidekicks inching slowly towards the door.

“Well maybe you’re just shit at your job!” He turns away from you to push papers to the side of his desk, the gesture a clear dismissal that only serves to rile you further.

“Oh fucking bite me, Katsuki!” As soon as it’s out you slap your hands over your mouth, eyes wide as dinner plates.

You were exhausted and tense and so mad but it’s not what you agreed on, never at work and never in front of subordinates. In an instant it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. Bakugo’s expression is furious when he whirls on you. You chance a look over at his assistants and all colour has left their faces, ‘Impressive,’ you think idly, ‘Considering Haruto is literally purple.’

“Out. Now.” He growls, and his teeth are clenched together so hard you think they might shatter, his throat is rapidly turning red and his hands are clenching and unclenching around nothing. The sidekicks hesitate and you’re a little grateful for their loyalty.

“Fucking out. NOW!” He yells, and they nearly fall over each other trying to get out the door.

“And there goes the loyalty,” you murmur while you watch their hasty retreat. “I’m sorry,” you say, turning to face him head-on, apology punctuated with the slamming shut of his office door. You focus on the wall of windows behind him, the city skyline slowly lighting up in the nighttime, preparing for an infamous Ground Zero meltdown. “That was inappropriate, especially in front of subordinates.” Idly, you wonder what the theme this time will be; Disrespect? Insubordination? Or just a good old-fashioned dress down? He’d become quite wordy over the years, you were almost beginning to enjoy them.

While you muse Bakugou inches closer to you, cheeks a mottled red. His shoulders rise and fall repeatedly, like he’s bringing himself down from the peak of his anger. For a moment you think he’ll just outright scream in your face, but when he pulls you, first towards him and then past him until your stomach presses against his desk, you realize quickly what he’s planning.

His forearm presses against your back until you’re bent over his desk, your hands palm down between the wood and your chest to prevent your face meeting the cool oak. It’s bordering on humiliating how easy he can manipulate you. But they don’t teach hand to hand combat in the business sector, and although you’d toyed with the idea - being in a high-risk industry and all - you never put stock in seriously learning.

The blond’s hand snakes over your shoulder, slightly damp palm advancing until it’s pressed against the smooth flesh of your throat. Katsuki pulls you towards him this way, and for a short moment breathing is a laboured task. The other hand makes quick work of divesting you of your skirt and underwear, coming down in an instant to make contact with your bare ass. He rubs at it covetously, a shallow attempt at soothing your stinging skin.

There’s no formality when he thrusts into you, only a few seconds between feeling the head of his cock parting your embarrassingly slick folds and him being fully seated within you. You grit your teeth against a whine, fingers scrambling for purchase when he withdraws and fucks into you again, and then again, pace slowly gaining momentum until you can swear the heavy oak desk (and seriously that thing weighs a fucking ton) is shifting with the force. Your stomach presses painfully into the gilded metal decorating its edge but it’s good. Katsuki is so fucking good at taking you apart with every inch he drives into you. Above you he mutters lowly about how fucking wet you are, how eager you must’ve been all day, waiting for him to fill you. It goes on like this for a while, you bouncing between his hips and the desk, him whispering filthy, untrue shit in your ears that makes your nipples hard and your breathing shallow.

He places his free hand on your back, first up under your shirt, then slowly slides it down, until it’s resting on the roundness of your ass again. You don’t know what he’s planned till his thumb’s parted you, sliding softly over the clenched furl of muscle above your stretched open cunt.

“Bakugou, no!” you whisper hoarsely, your voice just edging on hysterical as you struggle against his hold.

“Excuse me?” He hisses between his teeth, thrusts not slowing for a second. The hand around your throat tightens and when he pulls you closer so his sneering mouth is brushing the shell of your ear, you unwillingly tighten around his dick in response.

“(Y/N),” his voice is almost pleasant, and had you not been split open on his cock in his office, you’d ask him who taught him an ‘interview voice’.

“Can you tell me who's name is on the building?” While he teases you, you can feel yourself getting wetter around him, thighs tensing and relaxing with the sensation of being spread open beneath him.

“Yours.” You wish you could fall through the fucking floor.

“I’m sorry?” His thumb presses a little more insistently against your pucker. The pressure is foreign, but not at all bad. Dear God, you’re really about to let him do this to you.

“Yours, sir.” You pant, the burning sensation in your cheeks and neck a mix of exertion and shame.

“Fucking say it,” Katsuki tightens his hold on your throat and your whimpers are barely audible over the sound of his hips brutally meeting your ass.

“G-Ground Zero.” you choke out through your clenched teeth.

“Oh good, so you can read!” Katsuki releases you from his hold and you fall forward. With every thrust, your feet lift off the floor, and you lurch forward like a ragdoll. Katsuki pushes his thumb further inside you, belly-laughing when you cry out in pleasure.

“Where’d all that resistance go, sweetheart?” His digit fucks in and out of you in tandem with his cock, keeping you full constantly. “You know what? Next time, I’m gonna take my time stretching you, keep you wide open, maybe you can wear a plug for me, huh? And then after you’ve been soft and needy all day, I’ll slide right into you, fuck you till you gape for me.”

You’re incapable of firing back, mouth occupied with moaning incoherently while you drool against the desk. Katsuki chokes off his own moan, using his unoccupied hand to hike up your leg so he can have easier access to your clit. The calloused pad of his fingertips press hard against you. He goes so slow, pushing and nudging at you until your entire body feels feverish and your climax takes you by surprise, forcing a yelp from your lips when your legs begin to shake.

“That’s it. Come for me. Come on my dick.” Once he’s sure you're done, he pulls his finger from your ass and releases your leg, blanketing your back with his chest. His hips are quick to lose their rhythm as he fills you, ropes of his spend coating your insides. Katsuki shudders against you, hands running a course along your hips. He pulls away, the evidence of your time together sliding down the inside of your thigh without Katsuki’s cock to hold it in.

“I’m going back to working for Hawks.” Your voice is hoarse when you can finally speak again and levering your chest up off the desk onto shaky knees only serves to make your head spin more. You glare at your boss your boyfriend as he dresses.

Katsuki’s grin is derisive while he tucks his softening dick away, “Like fuck, you love working for me way too much to work for that fuckin’ pretty boy.” He leans down in front of you and slides your underwear up from your ankles back into place, followed by your skirt before pressing soft lips to your forehead, smoothing his hands over your cheeks.

At least your headache is gone.

taglist: @enjifuckersupreme @pleasantanathema

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo #bnha x you #ground zero #ground zero x reader #bnha ground zero #katsuki x reader #kechiwrites

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