#And my brain likes to think that if I'll interract with someone too much

[mint-ty]

maladaptive daydreaming about fandom ships is my favorite activity ✨️

sometimes brain can get tired and the only effective way for clearing it - is to imagine how people that I admire bonk 💞

[ungalossimp]

Social anxiety and online interractions

(while being neurodivergent)

For context , I've been diagnosed with social phobia and generalized anxiety disorder -agoraphobia too, although I don't think it plays a role here. I'm austistic as well (diagnosed too)

Some people get really angry / annoyed about me not answering directly when they send me a message or an ask. I'm sorry about this. I wish I was able to do it.

For some social interractions are simple. For me it's not, and probably never will. I overthink, writing/ talking to people give me panic attacks.

My brain litteraly can't process things correctly, and interprets social interractions (or more precisely : social interractions going badly) as a deadly threat.

I get overwhelmed. I'm scared, insecure, and a lot of negative thoughts spiral in my head and I can't stop it.

Here's some of them :

✧･ What do they think when they see my blog on their dashboard ?

✧･ Do people even remember me ?

✧･ Do I look look desperate for attention - or on the contrary, do I look like I don't care ?

✧･ Are my posts and reblogs too boring ?Do they think nothing of it ?

✧･ Am I being a bother to my friends ? What if they weren't really my friends, what if they were just being polite and I misinterpreted things ?

✧･ What if I was a dead weight and everyone was too kind / polite to tell me so ?

✧･ What if I don't explain my points of view correctly, what if I mess up so much that the next sentence I'll write will hurt someone, and make them want to never speak to me again ?

✧･ What if they hated you because of how weird you are ?

It's hard to fight against this thought process. It's a cluster of thoughts that spiral again and again, sometimes it's there in the back of your mind and you don't even realize it.

It's hard to spot that my thoughts and insecurities are being irrational when I'm in the middle of it. It's hard to realize those fears are present to an anormal level.

Even when I know I'm not being 100% realistic, it's extremely difficult to not be affected by it.

Not to mention, my neurodiversity (autism) makes me second-guess every interractions, because I'm so scared to not have read social cues correctly.

I'm far better at it now, but when I grew up I used to feel like every interraction was a game and everyone knew the rules except me. It lead to a lot of misunderstandings and hurt.

At the time, I wasn't even diagnosed, so I internalized every "mistakes" of mine and blamed myself.

No one understood why I didn't follow the social rules, surely I did it on purpose - there was something wrong with me but I did no efforts to fix it. I got bullied badly.

As a result of all of this... A lot of time my mind automatically chooses the "safest" (irrational) solution: "if I post nothing, if I don't interract with anyone it will prevent me from ruining everything." It's a fight / flight / freeze /fawn situation, and I freeze.

I know that isolating myself won't fix it. On the contrary, it makes my anxiety worse and it pushes people away. So I do my best. It's draining. Some days it's more difficult, and it takes me a lot more time and courage to answer to people. Sometimes I lose the battle. But I try, I really do.

So now : When I say I have social anxiety and that it is hard for me to answer, please be patient with me. It's not that I don't care, I swear.

I hope this post made y'all understand me a bit better.

Maybe it'll help others explain their situation too, who knows.

[friendelius-writes]

Through the Window |:| Tom Holland

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: As Tom's new neighbor, [Y/N] didn't know that a look through his window costed them lots.

A/N: Low-key a bit creepy, but hey, I would be curious too. (This is my first official fanfic on this blog! Thank you so much for reading~)

Written by @friendelius-writes

Warnings: Guns, swearing, some violence, angst??

NOT MY GIF

It was a tough two months at [Y/N]'s new home as everything was, well, new. They were completely alone in this new, clean, neighborhood for the first time.

For a while, they didn't know what to do as they were used to hot dinners and nagging, but now, they've been stuck with frozen dinners and the sound of loneliness blasted across the house. Wanting to scratch that itch of going home diminished after meeting their next-door neighbor, Tom Holland.

During a cozy, summer morning while [Y/N] was setting their garden, he was the first person to introduce himself to them. The simple interraction made them feel welcomed and known in this unexplored territory. Now and then, if [Y/N] was outside at the same time as him, Tom would simply make small-talk with [Y/N] before being swallowed by his home.

However, something was tugging in [Y/N]'s mind about him. From generic observations, they have never seen anyone going in nor out of that house besides Tom. Most of his windows were crystal clear and displayed furniture in the room, but [Y/N] hasn't caught sight of that brown-haired male. [Y/N] assumed it was because he's busy, but the amount of time [Y/N] spent at home looking through his windows proved otherwise.

He seemed to be invisible for most of the day as [Y/N] seen no sight of him until those rare moments where he leaves his house and starts up his fancy car [Y/N] doesn't know the brand of. They've never seen Tom return, but he's leaving the house again in a few days. All his groceries were delivered to the back of his house and were always gone by morning. A gardener came once a week as well as someone from the cleaning department.

Once, on a warm, summer evening, with the darkening sky speckled with faint white, [Y/N] was slurping a smoothie as they gazed at the blaring television. The AC was blasting, and [Y/N] was snugged into a reclining chair. A commercial for the next big oven invention was dancing off the white walls, and the smooth hum of the microwave warming their T.V. dinner was the added touch.

Once the microwave chimed, a black van slowed right in front of Tom's house. While rising to grab her T.V. dinner, [Y/N] spectated the van through the kitchen window and observed two men dragging along another person towards the front door with another man dressed in a suit following behind. [Y/N] didn't catch a glimpse of the person, but [Y/N] immediately snatched their chicken nugget dinner and sat back down to watch it unfold. This could reveal more about him.

Bashes at the door alerted Tom, so, he swung the door open and, immediately, confusion jumped onto his face as he glanced between the well-dressed men.

"Why the hell are you here?" Tom demanded as he ushered the men inside in case any prying eyes were watching.

Once [Y/N] shut the television off, they maintain focus on the show unfolding before them as they finally see Tom Holland interact with human life. Unfortunately, they couldn't hear a thing, so they resorted in making up their own dialogue in their head, totally oblivious of the truth.

"We're sorry, mate," started one of the men, "but this little pipsqueak," he gestured to the cowering man, "was so fucking adamant about seeing you about his debt."

"You weren't picking up your goddamn phone, Tom," the other man added quickly with a sprinkle of irritation in his voice. Tom's jaw tensed and shoved his hands into his fluffed hair.

"Well, maybe, Sam, I fucking was purposefully ignoring to get a good night's sleep."

"It's, like, eight o'clock! Why are you fucking sleeping when you could be out having fun with the ladies?"

"Well, maybe, Harry, I'm tired," with a faint growl, Tom rubbed his face roughly, "how many times have I told you to not fucking appear at my fucking house when it's about work?! For all I know, someone could fucking be watching right now!" The twins rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Harry shoved the frighten man towards Tom.

"Just deal with him quickly, then," Harry spat. Tom ran his tongue against his bottom teeth, tightening his jaw. With arms wrapped around himself, he sighed of defeat and faced Harrison.

"I assume you have his file, Haz?" Harrison grinned as he whipped out the manila folder.

"Of course! Did you think I'd come empty-handed?" Tom seized the thin folder and opened it to glance at its contents. Once his eyes laid upon the man's history, Tom tutted and leisurely ambled towards the man who instantly found the pattern in the carpet more interesting.

"Oh, Chase Walker, what am I gonna do?" Tom slapped the folder shut and clutched Chase's chin to snap his head upwards.

"You are here because you wanted to see me, but as I clearly see in the database that you were supposed to return that 250 grand you borrowed from me," he released Chases's chin with a thrust and handed the folder back to Harrison, "the task was simple: get me that 250 grand by today." Chase's eyes wavered as he glanced at Tom and clasped his hands together after dropping onto his knees.

"Pl-Please, I beg you. I-I've only got a hun-hundred grand. I need more time! The re-recent tests on my wife are co-costly! Our insurance—"

"I don't care about your fucking problem!" As if on cue, Harrison handed him a piece of paper with scribbles at the bottom. Tom shoved the paper towards Chase's face.

"Do you not remember this? This was the damn contract you signed, indicating when you'll return the money." Chase shattered as his hot cheeks felt wet while feeling like he was being suffocated in a plastic bag, choking on his words.

"B-but I—"

"No 'but's," Tom tossed the contract to the side and eyed the twins, "take him upstairs to my office." The twins complied and hauled Chase up the carpeted steps.

"Where are they going?!" Exclaimed [Y/N] as they noticed they moved to somewhere else. Hurling their dish onto the table, they shot up and waited to see where they'll be by the windows. They caught sight of the five walking along the second floor through the wide window and then disappeared. For quite sometime, [Y/N] didn't notice them until they saw a barely noticeable Tom far from the window. Where Tom was, [Y/N]'s equivalent was standing in front of their bedroom window. Assessing the situation, their eyes widened and their hand rapidly covered their mouth that flung open at what was in Tom's hands.

"N-no! Wh-what are you doing?! Don't shoot me, I beg you," Chase crawled along the floor and gripped Tom's legs, wailing and pleading to let him live, "please! I'll do anything!" But Tom simply ignored him. He let Chase beg; he let Chase scratch his legs; he let Chase suffer knowing he's going to die.

"Harrison, throw me that silencer over there." Harrison tossed a slick, black, cylindrical silencer to Tom, and Tom caught it right before screwing it onto the front of his pistol. With Chase's cries slowing down, knowing it's not going to do anything, Tom kicked him off and aimed right between Chase's eyes. Once Chases's eyes started to water again, Tom pulled back the safety and pulled the trigger.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around and instantly noticed a figure right across at the neighboring house. His face hardened as [Y/N] realized he saw them. With fear bubbling inside them, they ran as far as they could to reach their phone downstairs. Tom swiveled to the men in the room, and pointed to the window.

"We've been spotted. Catch the person nextdoor, and bring them here!" Ordered Tom as the men sprinted out the door with no delay.

[Y/N] snatched their phone and dialled the police while running out the back door, hoping to get to their vehicle quickly.

"What's your emerg—" [Y/N]'s phone cracked against the ground as another tackled them. Harrison stomped onto [Y/N]'s phone as Sam forced them up while keeping a firm arm around their mouth to prevent loud noise.

[Y/N] whirled around in Sam's arms as Sam kept his stance and hauled [Y/N] towards Tom's house as quickly as possible. Inaudible sounds escaped [Y/N]'s mouth as their arms continuously pulled Sam's arm away from their mouth. Clearly, Sam was stronger than [Y/N], but they didn't give up anyway because anything was better than nothing.

[Y/N] was thrown onto the carpeted floor in the blood-splattered room and caught sight of the dead man lying against the chair. [Y/N] felt their stomach turn inside out and gagged at the image. They turned their head around to avoid it.

"Well, [Y/N]. How much did you see?" Tom's sickly soft voice penetrated [Y/N]'s brain that gave warnings that this guy just murdered a man in his own house. They looked up but refused to make eye contact with the murderer.

"Everything," [Y/N] announced with venom soaked in it. Tom threw his head back as a throaty laugh echoed in the soiled room.

"Pity. You've started to grow on me," informed Tom in a faux sweet tone. He took a few steps back and pointed the gun at their head.

"Sweet dreams."

And he pulled the trigger.