#intensive physical therapy programs

[hopeamcae]

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[ihrthoney]

stupid

pairings: touya todoroki x f!reader (no actual relationship atm, it’s more of a reunion thing but with romantic intentions)

warnings: fluff, touya backstory

word count: 2.8k (JESUS😭)

an: touya is alive and well tyvm! most likely will make a part 2 :p

It had been about two years and Touya was finally out of the hospital. When your body is near death, time flies by. The first few months were times he didn’t ever want to relive, the mental and physical pain he had to endure when healing his body was intense. After every session, he would knock out until he had to start the next test. 

As promised, he talked to his father every single day. The rest of his family would visit separately or by themself. Since their first visit, Natuso has never been in the same room as their father, Touya understands and respects his decision of course.

Society on the other hand… let’s just say he gets everything delivered to him to avoid the public as much as he can. Given it’s been two years, the rise of heroes has already begun (again) and the crime rate has never been lower; but for his sanity, he does not want to be recognized. 

His nerves always spike when he’s forced to go out but his mom and sister think exposure therapy is good. Speaking of therapy, he’s been seeing a therapist since he could properly talk again. Since he was a villain he has to do community service for ten years, technically eight in present times. Every day for eight hours he helps different companies and programs with whatever they need. As exhausting as it is, he knows it’s the least he can do for being a big factor in hero society collapsing. 

Currently, he’s with his siblings shopping for clothes and it feels like community service. He loves his sister, he really does, but they’ve been shopping for hours and his ass hurts from sitting so much as she tries on different outfits. Thankfully Natsuo had joined (was dragged) them or else he would’ve fallen asleep three stores ago. Fuyumi said Natsuo always agrees so they can leave the store quicker and that a second opinion is always nice! She said Shoto was too busy with school and training to stay plus he was too sheltered to know about things that weren't hero-related (they’re so grateful for his friends).

Fuyumi is in a fitting room trying on a few dresses for an event their mom is a part of. The boys already had their outfits ready (a suit and tie) so there was no need for them to shop, they were seated right in front of the door Fuyumi was in, other seats next to them were either empty or also filled with someone waiting.

The door opened and Touya instinctively looked up, just as he did when someone walked past him and it made his blood, ironically, run cold. Quickly, he hides his face behind Natsuo which confuses the latter, “What are you doing??”

Acting dumb, “What do you mean?”, his eyes continue to look at the seat. “I mean why are you hiding?”, awkwardly he tries to hug Natsuo, “Hiding? I’m just trying to give my brother affection of course!”

Pushing the older’s arms off of him, Touya sits back and watches as his brother’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “Nice try, do you think I’m stupid?” “Yes.” “Shut up!”

Before they could continue with their teasing, Fuyumi walks out with a few items in hand, gesturing they go to the register and pay.

On their way there she asks, “What were you two arguing about?” Touya was reminded of why he froze to his seat and all the memories started to flood in. 

-

“What are you doing?” A small voice appeared next to him, rustling sounds as someone sat next to him.

Annoyingly, he turned to see who cared enough to bother him during lunch. Touya was frowning, wanting to go home and train but his frown vanished when he saw you. Your hair was split into pigtails with turquoise rubber bands and an all-might lunch box in your hands. 

“It’s none of your business.” He quipped, upset at such a person distracting him. He frowns again at your response, “That’s not very nice. My mom said if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.” 

He always hated that saying because it was something he needed to learn, “That’s stupid.” His arms are crossed, now angry at the scolding. Instantly you replied with, “You’re stupid!” 

Touya whipped his head around at your insult and he stood up, “You’re stupider!” He yelled, which caused you to yell even louder, “You’re the stupidest!” 

The little fight between you two somehow sparked into a competition to prove who wasn’t stupid by stating your test scores, to demonstrating your quirks, then arguing about pro-heroes. From that day forward you guys were glued to each other’s side, eating lunch and spending breaks together. Touya had even invited you to his house, to his mom’s delightful surprise.

Everyday was spent together,

until he died. 

The loss of Touya destroyed you, school had become lonely and you distanced yourself from people in fear of losing someone else. The other kids only knew you as the girl whose friend died, which made them avoid you and your grief.

After graduating middle school, you never continued in your path to become a hero, unable to stomach death and violence. Instead, you went to a normal high school and a little college that gave you enough knowledge to have a name to yourself that you were satisfied with. 

Despite the loss, the Todoroki’s never forgot about you; Anytime they saw you in public you guys would quickly catch up, you’ve even seen their mom once a few times. Rei was an angel to be around, she had a very caring aura even after everything she’s been through.

Honestly, you were incredibly nervous when visiting her, you shouldered a ton of guilt for not being able to save Touya from his desire to be a hero. She cried at the confession, Fuyumi did too, you all shared a lengthy and heartfelt conversation about your grief. 

After that conversation, you and Fuyumi grew very close! Whenever she wasn’t busy with teaching her students you guys would meet up and go to festivals, chat over drinks or freak out together over your guys’ shared interests. 

Fuyumi became one of your best friends so it was no surprise when you recognized her at the store. 

-

“Hey Yumi!!” You beam at his sister, your eyes bright as you walk around the counter to hug his sister. While Touya isn’t tall enough to tower over you, he still has to slightly look down to meet your eyes.

He watched as you both chatted, something about Fuyumi needing a last minute dress for their mom’s event, to you… also going.. to the event.

“What are you going to wear?” His sister asked, showing her outfit in her hands and questioning which one to buy. “I have the blue version of this dress! You should get this one so we can match!” Excitedly, you pointed at a simple white dress Fuyumi had in her hands, which made her grab the other dresses and reach them towards Natsuo.

“Could you put these dresses back please!” Natuso whined, “How am I supposed to know where they go?” Touya tries to keep his eyes remained on his brother in fear you’ll recognize him. Not that it would be shocking given that he announced his existence on national television.

Your arms come into view as you grab the clothes from his sister's hands, “It’s okay, I can put it away!” Feeling embarrassed, Fuyumi tries to exclaim that it’s okay and she can put it away but you insisted that it was your job.

So you work in this clothing store.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re always too kind to me Yumi. Come over to this register, I can ring you up!” The former villain doesn’t know whether or not to feel relieved or hurt that you haven’t noticed his presence. Maybe you did and you’re ignoring him? Or maybe you just think he’s one of Natsuo’s friends? There’s a million questions that run through his mind, so much so that by the time he snaps back to reality, you’re handing Fuyumi her receipt.

As they exit the store, he musters up some courage to look at you and to his shock you’re already looking at him. Instead of looking away, you give him a small smile and he matches it, before turning his attention to the door in front of him. 

The walk to the car is quiet, the sound of the wind rustling the trees and feet scratching against rocks on the road. He gets into the backseat, claiming the passenger seat makes him carsick.

Fuyumi was quick to address the elephant in the room, not even giving him time to put his seatbelt on, “Why didn’t you say anything?” She turned around and looked back at him.

Natsuo started the car but didn’t move to reverse, “Wasn’t she your first and only friend in school?” Touya pouted at the fact that his brother stated, you were his first crush too. 

“I doubt she recognized me or maybe she didn’t want to.” Being vulnerable was still a hard thing for him, so his sentence was merely whispered but curse Fuyumi for having good ears, “Don’t say that! Of course she recognized you, she was just shy. Plus, you didn’t even look at her!”

The elder scoffs at having not been slick, “Say something to her next time, she’s been wanting to talk to you.” Touya is confused at what his sister mentioned, “What do you mean she wants to talk to me??” 

Fuyumi’s expression makes it seem like she was caught doing something bad, but she was never good at secrets, “Yn is aware of your existence, she reached out to me when you were first admitted to the hospital after the fight all those years ago. She was very worried but didn’t feel like it was her place even though we insisted she visited. I really think you should talk to her.”

“Yeah talk to her! Don’t be a wuss big bro!”

“Shut up!”

That night, Touya couldn’t get any sleep, he was too busy thinking about all the times he would search for you when he was Dabi. There were too many times when he wanted to just go up to you, to watch you smile at him even if under the guise of customer service, but he couldn’t do that to you. Dabi didn’t want you to look at what he had become, what he’s done. So like his past, he erased you from his mind and focused on his goal.

-

Until his eyes could do nothing but focus on you standing right in front of him. 

Tonight he and his family (minus their dad of course, he wasn’t allowed near Natsuo) were in the ballroom of some hotel that his mom’s club was hosting. After getting out of the ward, his mom joined a community club that takes care of plants, it keeps her busy and happy.

This event was to celebrate the success of the plant business’ success in growth, there were mini games for the children of the members, food and a live band. It was quite nice, not as loud as he prepared himself for it to be.

Although, right now he couldn’t hear anything over the raging beat of his heart. There you were, greeting his mother. As always you were so beautiful, he couldn’t believe you were so close. The dress you were wearing did match Fuyumi’s, who just now bumped his shoulder, “Talk to her you idiot.” 

“How can I? I died, killed people, almost died, and now I’m-” His sister interrupts with that kind voice of hers, she was always so reassuring, “Alive, with a second chance. Trust me, she misses you.” 

Before Touya got a chance to think of a reply, you made eye contact with him. His mother followed her gaze and beamed at the sight of him, waving him down.

Touya could never say no to his mom, not anymore. So, against his will he walked towards you two. His eyes never once left yours even if he wanted to look away, hating the way you stared at him, it made him feel too conscious of his skin. While he doesn’t have staples of purple skin, it's still apparent where his scars were. 

“We’ll leave you two alone.” And just like that his mom and sister disappeared. The air was awkward, he didn’t know what to say. How does someone even start a conversation after everything he’s done?

Every doubt, any negative thought he’s ever had dissipates when he hears your angelic voice, “I like your hair.”

He can’t remember the last time he’s heard your voice that wasn’t through his jagged memories of you. It’s softer and smoother than when you were kids yet it carries a lightness that makes him straighten his back and hold out his hand towards you, 

“Would you like to dance?”

Heat crawls up his neck at the feeling of your soft hands grabbing his own, he feels like that naive little kid all over again.

With your hand in his, you both make your way to the dancefloor where the band starts to slow down their tune, a soft melody intertwining in the air, “I will be honest, I don’t actually know how to dance.” Touya admits embarrassingly, he didn’t have the time and even when he did he rejected any activity that wasn’t training. 

Slightly, you squeeze his hand in reassurance, “It’s okay, neither do I.” The most he knows about slow dancing is from the movies his siblings forced him to watch, who would’ve thought those dumb romance movies would have helped him.

“Is it okay if I?” His eyes gesture to his hands hovering above your waist, Shyly, you nod and he places his hands on your waist, gently moving your body closer to his. You take the close space as a sign to move your hands onto his shoulders.

Slowly, your bodies sway to the music, lights dim, colors of blue and a soft white flash over the dance floor, covering the red hue on Touya’s face. It was odd, two people who were friends for a few years in middle school met again a decade later at an event none of them were a part of. 

As always, you’re the one to break the silence, “How are you?” Your eyes are no longer looking into his, instead looking at the stupid tie he was forced to wear, “As good as a convicted criminal can be.” 

Nothing is said for a little bit, Touya starts to worry that he joked too soon, “How are you doing? I’m sorry for not saying anything when you were working.. I didn’t really know how to.”

Now you look up at him, “That’s stupid.”

He laughs at the memory that rises at your words, “A girl once told me that her mom told her, if you-” “Don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all, yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes as he mimics your words from your first encounter, that same smile you gave him when he saw you working but bigger, brighter too. 

“I’ve missed you yn.” 

Even with the dim lights, he can see the tears well up in your eyes, “I’ve missed you too, more than you could possibly ever know. I was so angry at you, learning how you died. I grieved for so long and when I was finally okay, the news of your existence flashed on my tv and I was angry all over again.” He hasn’t even realized that he was crying until your hands moved to wipe his tears, actual tears instead of thick lines of blood.

“I wanted to yell at you, to kick your ass, but seeing you in the hospital… I just wanted to talk to you again. I’m sorry I never visited.” Touya quickly assures you that there was no need for you to ever apologize and that it was him who needed to beg for your forgiveness for putting you through such pain.

“You’re free to do it all, I’m so sorry.” The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, years of guilt still streaming through him. 

“After all this time and you’re still a crybaby.” At the comment he turns his head away, a soft mutter denying such assumptions.

“‘m not a crybaby.” Your hand moves to turn his face towards yours, “That’s right, you’re a big crybaby.” He wants to be annoyed at the testing, but it’s you. Just like his family, his heart is weak for you. 

Years and years spent apart, the young flame his heart lit for you starts to warm again. The version of himself that met you still lives, still craving your presence. 

It’s too early to dive into those emotions, for now he’ll soak up the warmth your laugh radiates. He’s got all the time in the world.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[shitsndgiggs]

maybe a arda guler x physio reader whos also turkish but it takes place in the beggining if the 23/24 season so when he first came to madrid and yk he got injured so he ends up spending a lot of time with the physio and starts to confide in her bc shes turkish too

THE ROAD TO RECOVERY - ARDA GÜLER

When Arda suffers an injury in the beginning of the season, he requires extensive rehabilitation

Arda Güler x turkish physio! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The sun was rising over Real Madrid’s training complex. The new season had just begun, but the air was heavy with concern.

Arda Güler, one of the club’s most promising young talents, had suffered a partial tear of the internal meniscus in his right knee.

After numerous consultations with various specialists, including myself, the decision was made to proceed with surgery.

Following the successful operation, the real challenge began: Arda's recovery. I was entrusted with overseeing his rehabilitation program, and given our shared turkish heritage, I felt a special responsibility to support him not just physically but emotionally as well.

On the first day of his post-surgery rehabilitation, I found him seated on a treatment table in the physio room, his knee wrapped in bandages.

He stared at the floor, his usually bright eyes now clouded with worry and sadness.

"Merhaba, Arda," I greeted him gently, trying to catch his eye. "Nasıl hissediyorsun?"

He looked up briefly, his voice barely above a whisper. "İyiyim," he replied, though the sadness in his tone was unmistakable. "Biraz ağrım var ama iyiyim.

"We'll take it slow and steady," I assured him.

He gave a small nod, his expression softening slightly. "Teşekkür ederim," he murmured.

Over the next few weeks, Arda and I spent countless hours together. Our sessions were intense, involving various techniques to treat his muscles, joints, and the nervous system.

I used a combination of manual therapy, stretching, and strengthening exercises, always ensuring he felt comfortable and supported.

Our conversations provided a welcome distraction from the physical pain. We talked about our favorite turkish foods, shared memories from back home, and discussed the challenges of adapting to life in Spain.

I became more than just his physiotherapist; I became his confidant.

One afternoon, as I guided him through a series of leg exercises, I could see the frustration in his eyes. “It’s hard making new friends.” he admitted, his frustration palpable. “Most of the time, I can’t even understand what my teammates are saying.“

I nodded understandingly. "Bu normal, learning a new language takes time" I said. “I’m sure it’s comforting to have someone who speaks the same language as you.”

He sighed in relief. "Evet, it feels good to talk to you“ he said, his shoulders relaxing.

“I’m here for you,” I replied softly. “We can talk about anything.”

As the weeks turned into months, Arda’s progress was remarkable. His dedication and resilience were inspiring.

One day, as we were wrapping up a session, Arda looked at me thoughtfully. “I miss my family and friends,” he confessed.

I gave him a reassuring smile. “You have a new family here, Arda, Your teammates and me,” I said.

He smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude. "Bunu duymak güzel," he replied softly.

Our bond grew stronger with each passing day. I was not just helping him heal physically but also providing emotional support. We often joked to lighten the mood.

One day, as Arda finished a exercise, he asked me with a grin. “What other sports do you think I should try? Maybe dance?“

I laughed, shaking my head. “Definitely! Maybe you could become a ballet dancer” I teased back.

He chuckled, the sound a welcome relief. “Even the thought of me in ballet shoes is funny,” he said, laughing.

As Arda's recovery progressed, we reached a milestone – his return to light training with the team. He was both excited and nervous.

“I believe in you,” I said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will get trough this successfully and score many goals."

"Teşekkür ederim," he replied, his voice filled with determination. “Your support means a lot to me.”

In the weeks that followed, Arda's confidence grew alongside his physical strength. Our conversations became lighter, filled with jokes and laughter.

One day, as he was finishing a particularly tough exercise, he turned to me with a soft smile.

"Sen olmasaydın, bu kadar ilerleyemezdim," he said playfully.

I laughed, shaking my head. “It was all of your determination that helped you,” I replied.

As he continued his recovery, our bond only deepened.

Arda knew he had a long road ahead, but he also knew he wasn't walking it alone.

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part I

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 1: (1,9k)

Questioning his own sanity isn’t something he likes doing but standing in front of the tiny flower shop, Touya Todoroki can’t help but do so.

One year might have passed since the war, a year filled with intense therapy both on his body and mind, but still only a year and not a lifetime. 

“Do you want to skip it?” Shouto asks behind him, eyes trailing over the display of flowers outside the shop, the amount of it almost blocking the sidewalk. 

Had it been Fuyumi or Natsuo with him today, they’d already marched right inside, the two of them more annoyed with the lack of positive responses than he was.

But it’s Shouto who asked to accompany him today and Shouto like to ask for his opinion on every single thing first, whether it was which seat he preferred to sit in the car - the back seat - or how he liked his morning coffee - black, two pieces of sugar. 

-

The flower shop is tiny, crammed into the small space between a coffee shop and a drugstore, with wooden chairs and tables covered in plants right outside the too-small windows. 

He imagines the owner to be a little old lady, back arched under years of hard work. She’d throw him out the moment she realizes who he is. Or maybe it’s some uptight dick of a man, who thinks selling flowers is the hip thing to do. Which would end in a similar scenario, just maybe with more obscenities. 

He’d been cleared to start work in the rehabilitation program, given a list of employers who offered a part-time job for ex-criminals for a small amount of financial assistance. But even if they offer part-time jobs, he still has to apply for them and pass. So far he’s only collected rejections.

-

A bell chimes as Touya opens the door and he can’t help but snort at the interior. 

It feels like stepping into a tiny jungle, barely contained by the four walls of the building.

Cut flowers of all colors, sizes, and kinds are creatively dispersed between plants that grow up the walls or droop from the ceilings.

The smell is intoxicating and he can hear Shouto take a deep breath behind him.

“Hello?” He calls out when he can’t spot the owner. “I’m here for the interview?”

“Oh, of course.” A sweet, almost timid voice, calls out from the back, “Touya Todoroki, was it?” 

He can hear the clicking of heels, a plant is pulled back and a smiling face appears. 

That’s the first sign. This is his sixth interview this week and none of the others have been smiling at his sight.

The smile does not leave your lips when you step closer and he wonders for a second if you are visually impaired, until you offer him your hand to shake. Telling him your name, your eyes lock onto him and for only a heartbeat, he forgets to breathe.

That’s the second sign. 

There is no anger in your eyes, no thinly veiled hatred for what he has done. But there is a kind of recognition in them that he knows well. 

He shakes your hand as gently as he can, too aware of how small your hand feels in his. 

“I brought my brother with me.” He stumbles over the words, stepping to the side as well as he can in the cramped space.

That’s the third sign. Your eyes widen at the sight of Shouto, and he spots a little shiver that you try to hide as you offer Shouto your hand as well. 

Oh, well. You are cute, sure, but if you are into his brother, he won’t stand in the way.

-

Two hours later he steps out of the flower shop with a folder and a brand new job, starting tomorrow.

“Do you want to go for Soba?” Shouta asks next to him, seemingly unaffected by the news but phone already in hand, typing away.

Touya’s sure the family group chat is getting all the important information right now.

He looks down at the folder, his name on the official document.

He’s got a job. 

Is this how it feels to be normal? To lead a normal life?

It feels a little weird.

“Sure.” He says instead. “Soba sounds good.”

🌺.

You’re humming a tune when he arrives, smiling when the bell signals his arrival.

“I hope you don’t mind that it’s second-hand.” You tell him, holding out a bundle of green fabric. “But good aprons aren’t cheap and this one’s your size. If you feel uncomfortable with it, I will order a new one.”

“It’s fine.” He slips it on, fighting with the strings in the back. 

“Can I help?” You ask and he nods, teeth clamped together against the uncomfortable feeling of being useless. 

“I’ll go over everything again. If you remember something, feel free to chip in. I know it’s a lot of stuff to remember, especially when you’ve never worked in this field before, so we’ll go over it every morning until you feel comfortable with it.”

The days pass like this. 

You’re here before him, helping him tie that stupid little knot at the back so his apron stays on, leading him through the shop to go over the flowers. 

On Friday he can name almost all of them, only mixing up the gerbera and Coneflower Daisy. He helps you carry out the flowers you choose for the display that day and mans the till the rest of the day where you teach him how to tie ribbons and how to cut stems so that they last longer.

The shop doesn’t get many customers, a few old ladies that are too blind or too polite to recognize him, always choosing the cheapest flowers for the bouquets, cooing when you add a surprise flower without charging for it. 

A few students pass by who buy single-cut flowers or look at the prizes of the bigger plants and skiddle out awkwardly. 

And of course, there are some guys who come in, obviously in the quest of flirting with you, but you’re either too oblivious to get the hints or too polite to act on it. Whatever the case, he throws them menacing looks until they leave.

So far, no one has made a fuss about him being there and he wonders if his new skin grafts are really that good or if people have gotten more polite since he went into therapy.

🌺.

Right now you’re walking up and down the shop, looking over the cut flowers and mumbling to yourself. 

He guesses that whatever you’re coming up with at the end of your mumbling session will involve more learning for him so he leaves you to it and enjoys the chance of getting to look at you.

You don’t dress overly cutesy, not like Toga who loved making herself look younger than she was. The white shirt you’re wearing under your own green apron accentuates your curves even more than the outfit you’d worn on Monday. If only Shouto would come by like he had asked him to, even offering to buy him lunch, but his younger brother’s swamped with work. 

You turn to look at him, catching him in the act of wondering how you managed to make your ponytail look so fluffy. 

“Are you with your family this weekend, Toya-kun?” 

“Uh… yes.” Where’s this going?

“That’s great. How many members does your family have? Including you?”

“Uh, five. My parents, my three siblings, and me.”

“Five? That’s perfect.”

“How so?”

“Oh. There’s something about uneven numbers that feels more comfortable to the human eye. There’s something about unevenness and imperfection that’s comforting.”

Something heavy settles in his gut, but not like the negative feelings he knows. This one feels new and yet familiar, like when you’ve finished a bowl of your favorite food.

“What would you have done if we’d been six people?”

“That’s a lecture for another day.” You tell him, beckoning him over to the cut flowers.

“I allow all my employees to make one free bouquet per week. This will be your first. Pick one flower for each of your family members. Don’t think too much about if they’ll match or not, just go with your gut.”

He huffs and looks at the buckets of flowers. 

There are white lilies and flowers as red as his father’s hair. There are roses and tulips that are a wild mix of red and white. But wouldn’t that be too easy?

He looks again and his eye catches on a deep purple China Aster. Purple used to be the color of royalty, he remembers, and his mother had always felt regal to him.

“This one for my mother.” He says quietly and you take the flower from him.

Next is a bright yellow Gerbera for his father, just because of the dichotomy of it. The flower had always felt passive-aggressive to him, but also cheerful, like someone trying to overcome past aggression by being extra positive. 

A blue silk flower for Fuyumi because blue is her favorite color no matter how much she likes to deny that and lavender for Natsuo because it’s the only medicinal plant he recognizes. Finally, he hands a light pink tulip over, the flower always reminding him of innocence and naivety, something he still connects to his youngest brother.

“You’re missing one flower.” You remind him softly. 

“Oh.” He looks down at them in your hands and laughs awkwardly. “I guess I forgot myself.”

But when he takes in all the flowers, none of them speak to him and he feels himself becoming increasingly frustrated.

“Alright. I’ll allow it this time.” You say softly next to him and he turns, a little confused by your words. 

“Hold out your hand, Toya-kun.” He does and you hold your own hand above it, not touching him but the space between is so small he can feel your presence.

Something heavy drops into his hand and he pulls it down to reveal a thick green bulb with a stem rapidly growing from its end.

“What’s that?”

“A peony. Sadly they’re not in season right now and this little one doesn’t want to show its face yet. You might have better luck in a day or two.” You hand him the other flowers and point at the greenery to the side.

“Now we need all the side characters to complete the picture.” You pull out different things, like Aspidistra and Bear Grass and some Israeli Ruscus Green, calling them the house they lived in, the rooms that housed them, the beds that carried them.

He’s still a little stunned by you showing your quirk like that when you hand him the greenery and point to the table next to the till. 

“Now, make your first Bouquet. You know how to do it but I’ll be there to help if you need me.”

🌺.

“Oh, what a lovely bouquet.” His mother claps a hand to her mouth at the sight of the flowers. “Did you make that yourself?”

“I did, actually.” He feels immensely proud of it and just a little bit awkward about the words that follow, repeating them after you.

“Every flower resembles one of you but you have to guess who’s who.”

Rei studies the bouquet that so obviously lacks white or red and blinks in confusion.

Toya can feel a satisfied smirk growing. You were right. This is kinda fun.

taglist: @misfit-megumi

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[palfriendpatine66]

Your Pal’s Hayden Review: Higher Ground

What? Yes. I’m going to take a second away from my 24/7 Ewan obsession to throw a little love Hayden’s way and talk about Higher Ground. I had heard a lot about the series before I decided to check out the series and I’m so glad I did. It can be really difficult to track down but right now it’s streaming for free for a limited time on the CW website (and app) as well as tubi.

TLDR: I highly recommend a watch for a great Hayden performance in an angst ridden, emotional teen drama about kids working through their trauma in a therapeutic wilderness school. Many many content warnings for difficult topics and content warnings after my general review below the cut.

This was seriously the role Hayden was born to play. He plays a broken, sulky teen who lashes out in flashes of anger before he breaks down and cries AKA he is modern AU Anakin. It’s no wonder he was cast as Anakin after his work on this. His performance is emotional and vulnerable and shattered my heart multiple times.

The show is never quite able to make the viewer forget that they’re watching a teen drama with a cast of actual teens playing the teenage characters filmed in the year 2000, but I was able to forgive it for it’s occasionally overacted and/or not quite realistic dialogue and key moments accompanied by in your face soundtrack choices to pump up the drama and I think you will too. A very diverse collection of issues that impact real teens but are rarely talked about were depicted surprisingly realistically and sensitively. I was really impressed that the show consistently emphasized - over and over again - that the traumas the kids went through that were behind the problematic behaviors that landed them in their one stop shop rehab/intensive therapy/social and life skills group/high school program were not their fault, but only they could be responsible for how they coped and chose to go forward with the rest of their lives. The councilors on the show had healthy, caring, supportive relationships with the kids in their program, and the advice they gave was (generally) actually helpful and real life strategies. What I liked the most about this show was that it was realistic in there is no magic cure or happily ever after, but there is hope and there is healing and there are opportunities for a positive future even when everything is awful.

Content warnings below - feel free to dm if you want more details if you’re considering a watch. Also if you have watched please let me know if I missed any. For the most part these weren’t graphic depictions (they were rated TVPG in 2000) but the emotional impacts and aftermath are focused on in detail and can be very heavy.

- depictions of depression, anxiety, and panic attacks with flashbacks - drug addiction - drug use - overdose death - alcoholism - teen runaway - rape - sexual abuse of a minor - sexual abuse of a minor by a parent - sexual abuse of a minor by a step parent - emotional abuse - gaslighting - abuse allegations being dismissed, not believed - eating disorders - discussions of self harm - graphic depiction of cutting - scenes and discussions of suicide and death - death of a parent - gang involvement - domestic violence - physical abuse - infertility - drowning death - teen prostitution -

[gatheringbones]

[“Many victims may not even see political coercion from their partners as an abusive act. In our conversation, Tawni Maisonneuve, the survivor and advocate I referenced earlier, attributed this in part to the reality that we still “have a hard time believing emotional and mental abuse occurs,” let alone recognizing political control over a partner as abusive. But Maisonneuve experienced abuse in this form firsthand, from multiple abusive partners obstructing her access to political information, and at different points, even controlling her voting. She finally began to understand her partners’ political coercion of her as abuse when, in 2013, she joined a program that she called “intense victim recovery therapy.”

“In that group, our instructor brought up that sort of behavior. I never really thought of it before as if it was some kind of control,” Maisonneuve said of her former abuser’s control over her politics. She added that she doesn’t think a lot of people talk about “politics in domestic abuse” because “they think, ‘oh, yeah, it’s an argument anyway’ or ‘yeah, people don’t usually see eye-to-eye” and dismiss the potential of these “disagreements” to yield violent outcomes and disenfranchisement.

Yet in many ways, Maisonneuve believes controlling a partner’s vote is one of the most powerful forms of abuse. “When you look at that, if I can control the way you vote even in your community and everything else, I know I really have control of you at home. That’s what we dove into in my victim recovery class,” she said.

Maisonneuve recounted how her “first marriage was the hardest one when it came to voting.” Prior to her abusive marriage, she had worked as a manager in a state senator’s office and had deep roots in community activism and political engagement. “It turned into a situation where I didn’t even register to vote anymore,” Maisonneuve said. Again, her divorce was finalized in 1994, but she says she “didn’t even vote after that for the simple fact that I didn’t want to run into [her ex-husband] at any polls” or “deal with any of those dynamics.” In her next relationship, Maisonneuve’s partner accompanied her to polling places and voted on her behalf. “I felt if I didn’t vote the way he did, or I didn’t agree with those political views, it would really be a physical issue,” she said. “So whenever I would go vote with him, I would need to get things approved before I submitted them. And he would tell the people, ‘Oh, she’s slow, I gotta walk her through it.’ It was those kinds of humiliating things that I dealt with when I went to go vote, when I was in bad relationships.”

This might seem like a lot of effort from her ex-partner, all for one vote that’s hardly likely to sway an election. But according to Maisonneuve, this extent of calculation and control by an abuser isn’t at all out of the ordinary. For an abuser, acts of political coercion including controlling a partner’s vote aren’t necessarily about impacting an election or achieving specific political outcomes, but making their victim feel powerless, denying them agency in the home and in society at large. “It’s about complete power and control,” she said, “where there’s no room for disagreement, no room for your own opinions or even your own thoughts.” Maisonneuve said she also thinks political control within abusive relationships is rarely discussed because of the broad cultural misunderstanding that it’s easy for victims to get the resources they need to leave and be autonomous after an abusive relationship. “But we don’t even really have victim recovery services, we have battery intervention programs, sure—but unless a victim really, really seeks out some mental health help, it’s not even really offered to us,” she said. “We’re given protection orders, or people think you’re at a shelter so everything’s fine. But victim recovery services are far in between, just like shelters.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023

[crimsonsongbird]

Hello, lovelies.

As if things weren't bad enough for me, I have to take a 5+ week medical leave for my terrible mental health. I'll be doing an intensive outpatient therapy program (again). There is no guarantee that this leave will be paid and, if it is, I will only get half my income, at most. Plus I have to pay insurance for the program and my job for keeping me on my insurance. This is particularly brutal because I am the bread winner of the house and we likely won't get enough money to pay bills. Plus I am already drowning in medical debt from last year's health issues...

I truly hate asking for help; my history made it so I couldn't rely on my caregivers enough to ask for help, so it actually hurts me to ask... But I am desperate. If I could make around $1.5k to 2k for all my bills and debt payments, I would be eternally grateful. Please help a physically and mentally disabled polytheist stay afloat by purchasing a reading, a spell, a sigil, or a devotional.

And if you feel inclined to donate:

V*nmo: @/DattebayoCrimson

P*yP*l: paypal.me/acrimsonawakening

C*sh*pp: $dattebayocrimson

Love you all,

Crimson

[punks-never-die205]

Some HCs with Kid and Killer as your personal trainer would be nice 😍

Hmmm… I haven’t given it too much thought - despite it being Kid and Killer’s jobs in Hat Trick, but that’s mostly cause it wasn’t really going to come into play.

Kid is a very high energy trainer, but he’s also well-educated. Like with kink, I see Kid as an epitome of the field, and yeah, he’s certainly arrogant about it.

He tends to get the hard cases - clients who had plateaued for years, people in competitions. He’s not unreasonable, but he’s not compromising either. If Kid tells you you need to eat more: You Need To Eat More.

You can’t create the body you want if it’s in survival mode.

Killer is intense in his own way, but way more chill than Kid. He’s got a lot of newbies under his care, and his patience comes into play a lot. He’s just as educated and dedicated as Kid, but his bedside manner is more relaxed.

He’s got a lot of people who only see him once a month just to help keep them on track with their own programs.

Conversely, Kid will check in with ex-clients who still come to gym randomly. Not in a bad way, just to make sure they’re still doing good, often offering up free advice or support.

If they’re not with clients, they’re usually working out or helping out the front desk staff. Killer hangs with Sanji a lot - the on-site dietician, and while he’s not officially in that role he’ll assist Sanji when needed.

Recently a new surgeon from a nearby hospital has been referring physical therapy patients to the gym - most go to the Marco, who rents space specifically for that, but some end up with Kid because they need the extra kick in the ass.

[studio-multi]

Half Baked #5

Title: Recovery

Cast: Physical Therapist!OC/Reader x Idol!Min Yoongi

Plot: OC/R is the hired PT for Yoongi, post shoulder surgery. He's a little lonely without the group around, so he calls her up late one Friday after work. Can be left as SFW or turned into NSFW, up to the writer.

Starter:

Yoongi was wincing, his face twisted with the effort he was putting into the exercise you had just instructed him to do. Obviously over exerted due to the intensity of the physical therapy program he had requested in order to recover quickly and seamlessly. 

“Why don’t we take a break?”

Yoongi glanced at you and then away quickly.

“Just a little longer,” he gravels out through clenched teeth.

With a roll of your eyes you slip your hospital scissors from one of the many pockets on your scrubs and snip the rubber tension band in two. Releasing Yoongi from his torture forcefully, but safely. 

“AIGOOO!” Yoongi cries as he is knocked off balance.

Biting back your smile you catch him before he ever has the chance to topple off the padded wood of the therapy table. 

“Sit back, you’re done for the day.”

You press down on the chest of his good shoulder until he is laid back on the mat. Yoongi complies with a rejected sigh. You begin to check his spinal alignment for needed corrections. 

“I could have completed the set.” Yoongi breathes, you watch as his pupils shifting behind his closed lids.

“Mr. Min, if you overwork the shoulder then the surgery itself will be rendered useless.”

Satisfied that he hadn’t slipped anything out of place you step away, Yoongi’s presence deemed he only be touched the necessary amount. 

He cracks an eye open at you, folded hands tapping the divide of his ribcage and stomach, “is that all?”

“Mmm,” You give him a nod before exiting the room. “Have a relaxing weekend Mr. Min.”

“Yoongi!” You chuckle at his disgruntled yell.

-

You had been Min Yoongi’s personal therapist since his release from surgery. Which meant HYBE had hired you exclusively for the next six months, you couldn’t see any other patients in case there was an emergency.

“How is the grumpy old cat?” Your friend and coworker slips into your high bar table with a bottle of beer and soju in hand.

“He’s progressing really well, and has a tendency to overwork himself.”

You flip the soju bottle, quickly righting it and popping off the cap to pour two glasses.

“I can’t wait until you’re back, it’s boring at work without you.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, leaning his face into his hand.

“Boring or do you just miss having your coffee bitch.” 

“Hmm...that too,” He grins at you unashamed. 

“Only two months left if we have no setbacks.”

“To two months!”

You clink glasses.

Three hours and a couple of coin karaoke songs later you are depositing your coworker into a taxi, when your phone starts blaring Round and Round by Heize.

Your tired eyes scrunch up, trying to compute as to why Min Yoongi was calling you.

[goodluckclove]

John Green's Thoughts on Adulthood: A Post-Mortem Analysis

So I was thinking about the time years and years ago, back when writer John Green was more active on Tumblr. Someone asked if he would ever write a book about adults, and his perspective were that adults were boring.

There's mixed physical evidence online. I remember seeing it, the first line of the ask was captured on a Buzzfeed article from 2013. I couldn't find the actual ask, because from what I've heard at some point John Green was torn apart with such intensity that he is now just a collection of atoms. And I don't hate John Green. I liked his books when I was also young. I watched the VlogBrothers. If I met him in an author space I would thank him for introducing me to NaNoWriMo when I was in middle school.

And then I would ask if he was doing okay. Like - emotionally? Because the shit she said in that ask is some of the saddest I have ever heard in my life. I'm using this Wordpress post as a reference of the rest of what he said and I just want to go through why it's just such a fucked and dangerous thing to say as an author who advocates for young people.

Follow me!

“Would you ever write a YA novel where an adult plays a key role? I know you like to leave the focus around the teenagers and their “peer relationships… but I was just wondering if it had ever crossed your mind.”

That was the ask. Fairly reasonable! And John Green responded immediately with the following:

I mean, to be totally honest with you, I don’t really give a shit about adults.

This on its own is a massive self-report. Not to any sort of crime or character flaw. In my mind, it's part of the reason why I feel like a point where big enough online figures, writers included, either need a PR team or a LOT of therapy. But he continues.

Like, all of my friends are adults. My spouse is an adult. My parents and brother are adults. I know and like many adults. But I don’t want to write for them. Or God forbid about them. They’re just so…boring. It’s like, “Oh I have a mortgage. I buy six pairs of identical khaki pants at a time. I take care of children and watch the television program CSI.” I admire people who can make that crap into the stuff of interesting fiction, but…yeah. No.”

I am angry. I am very angry. If someone said this shit to me in person I would make a face. If we were sharing a space with anyone under the age of 21 I would immediately say "you need to shut the fuck up right now jesus christ".

The thought of a writer who really made his whole brand caring for youth telling them that their future is inevitably dull and unremarkable, especially when you deal with themes of suicide and mental illness, is actually one of the most artistically unethical things I can think of at the moment. I understand that John Green struggled with untreated OCD for very long time, so there's a chance this could actually just be him voicing an intrusive thought that honestly terrifies him.

But he's wrong. We know this, right? Including the adults on here who complain about the tedious aspects of adult life? We know that in a majority of cases it is generally better to be a legal adult than a minor? If you are someone who would go back to being in high school because you maybe had less responsibilities, are you really prepared to lose bodily/legal/societal autonomy?

Like I struggle in life. Sometimes I've struggled a lot. But at my worst, when I was unemployed and flat broke and I couldn't even sell my blood because I took Lithium, if someone told them they could magic me back to being 16 years old again I would scream in their face until they left.

Also, I have a mortgage. It's not boring. Mortgage and insurances are, in fact, pretty confusing and something you have to learn and research. The most boring part about my mortgage was the thirty minute meeting I spent signing paperwork, and once I did that I owned a house with my wife.

Young people who see this - there are going to be boring parts of your life. That's a thing that happens, and sometimes you'll actually be grateful for it. You aren't boring for being thrilled that there's a sale on khakis if you're buying them for a theatrical production, or donating them to a war relief effort, or you're using the fabric, or if it allows you to save money and time in a way that means you get to have a smoothie or something later.

I cannot speak for the experiences of people with higher support needs than I have. But I did talk about this to a friend with higher support needs, and they agreed that being an adult rules. There is a point in which you are no longer an extension of your family or upbringing and it is your life.

It's not always fun. It's scary and confusing and lonely. I had to learn a lot of what my parents never taught me. Adults are always learning things. But since I graduated high school, the only boring period of my life has been the times where I overworked myself into a breakdown and was forced to recover.

And, considering where John Green is now, that kind of explains his perspective a lot.

I hope he figures stuff out. There's no age limit to having to figure stuff out. We're all going to have to do it a lot in our lives.

[lacefuneral]

bit TMI but. i am an advocate for recovery so! i think it is important to talk about mental health things

i've talked about how i'm in an IOP right now, but not the specifics i don't think. it's an ERP (exposure therapy) program. which essentially means that i trigger myself on purpose multiple times a day (planned and discussed ahead of time) and i keep track of my distress level. the idea is that you have like an arbitrary number. say, distress of 70 points. and as you habituate to the triggering situation, these points will decrease. when you reach "half" (whatever that means for the individual) you are allowed to stop the exposure, as it is considered successful. although some are also day-long or activity-long

right now, for example, i'm doing an OCD contamination exposure where i played tug of war with my dogs (so i now have gross dog saliva on my hands) and i'm trying to go about my day at work without washing my hands even one time. so i have to touch my phone, eat, etc. - record the highest level of distress - and how long it takes for me to habituate. highest so far has been 74. hovering around a 70 right now after 15 minutes. goal would be around the 35-40 range.

anyway. for some reason it did not occur to me that being triggered, even if controlled, is going to have effects on my body. my shoulders have been in excruciating pain the last couple of days because my body locks up during intense exposures. my menstrual cycle is abnormal because my body is undergoing so much stress that it's like "hey maybe we don't need to be losing a lot of blood right now." and i've also had quite a few stress nightmares

like it makes sense but it's also like. ohhhhh. yeah. that'll happen.

so if you go through an intensive ERP program like this, make sure that you are taking care of yourself. lots of water, stretching, warm showers or baths. if you have someone who is willing to massage out aches in your shoulders or neck. i've been using a heating pad and that's a godsend

like. be very kind to yourself. because it's physically difficult work, too. not just psychological

[steviebbboi]

Red (Chapter 02)

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Original Female Character

Summary:

Eleana Harlow (Ellie) is an Enhanced Individual turned Avenger. She's also Steve's everything. She just doesn't really know it yet.

Warnings: non-canon, slight canon divergence, sorta established relationship, OFC has powers and is POWERful, enhanced!reader, protectiveSteve!, softDom!Steve, steve and OFC are intimate, angst, eventual smut, friend(ish) to lovers, mentions of mental health issues and PTSD, mentions of dissociative episodes, mentions of violence/death but its not too explicit. (* indicates chapters containing smut)

Would love some feedback, and any reblogs and comments are appreciated! MINORS DNI - DO NOT read unless you're 18+ thank you!

DISCLAIMER NOTE:

I don't give permission for anyone to post this work on any other platform. This only exists on Ao3 AND now Tumblr (5/29/24), so pls don't copy/paste. Also, I don't own any of the Marvel universe (I wish). All of my works are also unbeta'd so please be kind, and apologies for any edit mishaps.

Chapter 02. Fire Hazard

“Well, took you long enough. Was about to send the Iron Legion on your ass for that core spike. But most importantly, to check on my coffee.” Tony piped as she exited the elevator into the common space of the tower. 

Ellie rolled her eyes and replied, “Stark, even if you did send the Legion, they would’ve only found me reducing my core temperature. Like I was trained to do, remember?” The latter half of her inquiry laced with sarcasm. 

The team knew that she was more than capable of managing her heat spikes. The StarkWatch was programmed to alert everyone on the team when her core temperature went over the regular temperature of the human body. In a normal human’s case, it would be 98.6F. In Ellie’s case, her threshold stood over 110F. 

Ellie’s time training with SHIELD involved intensive mindfulness breathing exercises and various other grounding skills to be able to manage her own body temperature. She understood the power of breath and how she uses it determines how she regulates not only her body, but her mind. A necessity for an Enhanced individual like Ellie. 

In that moment, Ellie thought back to how a former SHIELD therapist once described it within a written profile and scoffed to herself. “The Enhanced individual requires down regulating skills due to their reported extensive trauma history and poor ability to control stated Enhancements. The Enhanced individual is recommended weekly psychotherapy, physical therapy, and pyro-kinesthetics training. The Enhanced individual is not currently recommended for field work. Further to be assessed.” 

Ellie darkly chuckled to herself quietly at the morose characterization. “Well, he wasn’t wrong.” 

Tony took his coffee from her outstretched hand and said with a more serious tone, “That StarkWatch is there to save lives, Dante. Not just theirs, but yours. Like it's trained to do, remember?” 

Ellie smirked at the attempted joviality, “Yes, I know, Stark. Don’t get all weepy on me now.” She did appreciate how Tony and the others cared about her. Despite her own self-loathing, she wasn’t an apathetic monster. Far from it, she enjoyed being needed, especially knowing that her team trusts her to watch their back- as she does them. It helps her heal.

Tony chuckled and whatever tension that was there had left. “Not a chance. My tears would disassemble the team once they realized it would heal the world. Figured that we still may need your fiery goddess-like powers to put out some flames.” 

Looking behind you, he smirked dramatically, “Ah, incoming- here comes a hazard now!” Recognizing his less than subtle warning, associated with the familiar loud footsteps, Ellie sighed deeper and cringed. She turned around knowing exactly what to expect.

In all his stature and glory, Steve Rogers was a commanding force in every room that he entered. Standing tall at his full height, shoulders back and broad, his handsome face slight with a frown - he walked towards Ellie with intention in his dark gaze. He was wearing his training gear and exuded power and a determined energy. Ellie clamped her lips together before she let out another exasperated sigh. “Why does he have to look so good during moments like this?” she annoyingly thought to herself. 

“Friday, you were supposed to let me know when to clear the room! ” Ellie whispered angrily to the ceiling.

“Apologies, Agent Harlow. Captain Rogers had overridden your command after your last core temperature alarm.”

Ellie sighed and rolled her eyes, “Of course, he did.” She whispered now to herself. Looking at Steve’s face as he got closer, she can see that he also didn’t appreciate the secret command that she gave to Friday should this ever happen again. 

“Steve, you already know–” she began to explain. It was always like this when her heat spiked. With the notification going to every member of the team, she was always met with concerned check-in’s from her friends. The captain, however, always came in with concern and frustration. As team leader, Steve didn’t particularly enjoy it when one of his teammate’s were in danger, to others or themselves. More specifically, Steve didn’t like knowing that Ellie was in danger, period. 

Steve interrupted her before she could even start to console him. “Ellie, I know that you know what to do should your temperature ever spike. But this is the fourth time this month. It used to be once every six months. I let you avoid it the last time but not anymore. What’s going on?” He stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips. Now that he was closer, she could see more worry in his eyes than anger. 

He resembled a scolding figure if she ever saw one. Her frustration peaked when she felt her initial intention to dismiss his concern had now disappeared when she noticed the sincerity of his inquiry. She knew that the super soldier was just looking after her. The first time that her core heat had risen over the past month, concern was there but was dismissed due to the fact that it had historically spiked sporadically. But then it happened again the next week. And then the following week. And then today. 

Ellie knew that the episodes were triggering it. It was almost the anniversary of the incident, and she knew that the episodes were frequent when it was coming close to the date. She just didn’t like to admit it because she should have been healed by now. She shouldn’t be this impacted by it anymore. 

In her own head, now paired with the guilt for making the others- Steve, worry, Ellie frowned and put her hand to her furrowed brow. A headache brewing out of frustration with herself. She let out a heavy sigh that carried weight that the super soldier could understand. 

“Hey,” Steve implored softly and gently gripped her arms. “We’re just worried about you, Red. You know that you can tell me anything.” 

At his touch, Ellie flushed and her entire body seemed to relax before she could even consciously recognize it. The brewing headache seemed to dissipate. His words washed over her with a familiar nurturing comfort that she always received from Steve. 

Red. A name that only Steve was allowed to call her. Barton tried to call her that once before when they were on the quinjet on their way to a mission. The long, silent look that Steve sent him was intimidating enough to quiet the whole hull. It was an instantaneous reaction and she didn’t think that Steve even remembered doing it to this day. But that was the last time that anyone had ever attempted to say it. 

Ellie let out another sigh and admitted with closed eyes, “The episodes…they’ve been more frequent the past few weeks.” A burning discomfort floated back into her body as she confessed. 

Steve caught Tony’s eyes behind her and the tech genius only pursed his lips in understanding. His usual quipped humor silenced, he took his coffee and left the room. Giving the two remaining Avengers the privacy that even Tony Stark could recognize and respect. 

With the two standing there in a muted silence, Steve broke it by squeezing her arms gently. At the additive touch, her eyes opened. Brown eyes filled with sadness and resentment matched a bright, soft, and caring blue gaze. “The anniversary is the beginning of next month.” He stated, understanding laced in his tone.

Ellie trusted, respected, and cared for all of her teammates. Her gratitude extended from the very first time that she had ever met them, worked with them, and gotten to know them. It’s only been 3 years since she officially joined the Avengers team but it felt like decades. When you go through these missions, these intense and traumatic world-shifting events, you’re going to learn all that there is to know about respecting life. And the members on the team understood that and each other in ways that nobody else ever could. 

But Steve– oh, Steve. He was a man out of time. He understood more than anyone what it was like to have had, to take, and to lose. Family. Friends. A first love. Just like she did. Through his transformation, he had to find himself again in the purest, but sometimes, most painful of ways. He had to learn to adapt to a new world. Just like she did. She and Steve were able to understand each other in ways that the other team members couldn’t. And that wasn’t an observation, nor was it a cold or isolating fact. It just was. 

This connection brought them closer over the years, and maybe in ways that the other team members could observe, and the two people in question couldn’t. 

After the mention of the anniversary, Ellie released a relieving breath. Her breathing skills now kicked in as she forced herself to regulate. She never felt more vulnerable than whenever she had to talk about the incident. Even with Steve.

Noticing this, Steve knew that it was his cue, and rubbed his hands over her arms slowly. His thumbs slowly circled her soft skin at the same time. He took the next breath with her.

“That’s it, Red. You’re okay.” He whispered and brought her closer to his chest. Their height difference put her forehead to perfectly land just underneath his collar bone. Appreciating the co-regulation, Ellie felt her hands grip Steve’s biceps in attempts to continue grounding. He was her rock. A domineering but calm force that she knew would help her move through her symptoms. 

It was like that for a couple of minutes. Steve kept whispering his reassurances, I’m with you, Red. You’re okay, El. All the while, she put her entire weight on him, her hands that were gripping his arms now tightened as she finally broke down. She didn’t want it to get to this point. She felt like a burden to the team, to Steve, and a burden to herself. But relief was all that she felt. To be able to just cry and not be judged for it. To hug someone and to feel them hug you back. It’s what she needed, and Steve gladly gave it to her.

Now hugging her to him, Steve readjusted their position and now had one arm around her waist, rubbing circles on her back. The other hand resting on the back of her neck underneath her hair. Ellie gripped the back of his shoulders like a lifeline. It always feels this intense, for some reason. It’s almost as if the incident happened just yesterday. 

A minute or two passed and Ellie’s soft sobs quieted down into short sniffles. Steve took this as another cue to check in and put enough space between them for him to catch her eye. He kept his hands around her waist and neck, prepared to bring her back in closer to him should she still need him to do so. 

Even though her eyes were now shiny, red, and slightly puffy, Steve’s empathy shined through as he met her calm and content gaze. “Hi, there.” He offered with a small grin. 

Ellie sniffled a little before returning his smile with a genuine smile of her own. “Hi, Steve.” Finally coming back into herself after a much needed emotional release, she detached herself from Steve. Not completely so but just to rest her hands on his chest while his shifted down her back. 

“How do you feel?” He asked with concern still apparent in his voice. She nodded her head slightly and said, “Better.” He softly grinned and let out a good while his right hand left her waist to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers before putting her hair behind her ear carefully. She smiled more at the care through his actions. 

Unbeknownst to Steve, he was gazing at her with a look that she will never tire of seeing upon his face. While they were always close, physical signs of affection took time to foster between the two. Ellie flushed and smiled slightly every time Steve either caressed her cheek, stroked her hair, gave her a hug or rubbed her arm, or waist. But she never denied it. She welcomed his touch happily and appreciated the soft gaze that was associated with it. 

Ellie liked to believe that his gaze held something more than just a quick look. She would like to believe it's because he saw her as more than a teammate, or even a friend, caring for another. It was personally nurturing, protecting. A softness that only seemed to be reserved for her. Naturally, it felt intimate and romantic - the way that he would look at her sometimes. He never seemed bothered by it after he initiated it, nor did she call him out on it. If she had to continue to take from him- soft touches and protective gazes she would blissfully take from Steve. 

“You can’t let yourself bottle it all in, Red. Dr. Winsherr said that the episodes will never really just fade away. No matter how much time has passed, with PTSD, it will take its time.” Steve said to her gently. Ellie looked down at her hands on his chest and let out a reluctant but agreeable mhm. She often dismissed her own mental health for the sake of her having to prove that she was strong enough or tough enough to handle her symptoms by herself. She knew it was futile to avoid her problems, but she was still working through accepting her post-trauma experience.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve nudged and squeezed at her waist again to capture her attention. Snapping her eyes from his chest to meet his, she nodded and affirmed. “I’m with you, Steve. I know. It takes time.”

Ellie knew. Of course she knew. And she knew that Steve knew because he still experiences his own episodes from time to time. Naturally, the Star Spangled Man with a plan was naturally more adaptive than she was and was able to practice his acceptance skills more easily. He still has his moments where he reverts back to the plane crash, feeling the cold water envelop his frozen body but conscious mind, or to witnessing Bucky fall to his death. Those were moments that she was there for him though. And she gladly gave just as much Steve gave today.

“Right. Do you have an appointment scheduled with Dr. Winsherr yet?” He prodded gently. He didn’t want to push her but he knew that in moments like this, therapy could offer her a space that maybe he couldn’t. 

She recognized his prying with a cheeky grin but appreciated him asking, nonetheless. “Yes, Mother Hen, I have it scheduled for next Friday.” Steve jokingly rolled his eyes at her quip and gave her one last squeeze on her hips before letting her go. Ellie also dropped her hands from his chest reluctantly, already missing his firm embrace. 

“Good. I’m glad. You know that all we want for you is to feel capable and to protect yourself. Those alerts happen for a reason, you know.” He continued on. Now she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. The StarkWatch is there to protect others and myself, blah blah.” Echoing Tony’s earlier sentiment back to Steve.

“Protecting others means us too.” Steve caught and spoke firmly. “If anything happened to you, Red…” he paused and continued with a darker tint to his gaze, “I’m not sure what I would do.” Her eyes widened a bit at the sudden vulnerability. It’s not because he was saying that he was scared of her, or merely worried about his team’s safety. But, because he was scared to lose her. This was a first for the both of them, to be so honest about where they stand in regards to how important they were to each other. It was mostly shown through actions. But this was through actual words.

“ Steve…” That was all Ellie could breathe out. The roles reversed and now Steve flushed, almost as if he didn’t even catch what he said until he saw her reaction. “We would all be lost without you, Red. So just make sure that you take care of yourself, okay, can you do that for us?” For me, was underneath that request. 

Ellie noticed the shift of energy and desired to cling onto it for another second. Taking a risk, she replied, “I can do that, for you, Steve.” 

Steve’s breath now hitched slightly at her response. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. His eyes grew warmer as he looked down at her. It was quiet between them now. Until Steve reached out once more with his right hand to caress the very same cheek that he had just a moment ago. She met the movement with her own by leaning into his hand until he was able to cup her cheek completely. 

“You know that we’re going to have to talk about this sometime, El." Steve whispered with his face closer to hers. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other’s breath on their skin. 

“Talk about what?” She whispered back, mesmerized by his blue eyes, her gaze still on his as she felt his other arm go back around her waist to pull her body closer to his. She hooked her arm underneath his again to clutch onto the back of his shoulder. Her other arm went around his waist to anchor herself to him. Their embrace was so intimate that there was no mistaking the energy in the room shifting into something different. Something new. 

“You know what, Red.” Steve said with a knowing tone. His nose softly nuzzled her own as her eyes unconsciously drifted shut at the sultry tone of his words. His lips were so close to brushing hers. She could practically feel his lips on hers. Almost anticipating it. 

Of course, again, Ellie knew exactly what Steve was talking about. Their increased physical contact also initiated something new between the two Avengers. An intimacy. A romantic energy that was so charged that it made Ellie’s blood rush and pool to her heavy beating heart, and to other parts of her body that were just criminal. Her body ached with a charge that she knew only Steve would be able to satiate. 

It began six months ago when they returned from an intense mission. It was a particularly rough mission. Ellie had to use her powers, which was not worrisome of course. What was worrisome was that she had a harder time pulling back on this mission. 

Her abilities included being able to absorb, manipulate, and manifest fire. She could not only generate fire from her own body, but she could also smother them. However, the use of her powers always came with some cost.

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[retrowave-racer]

Coaster Maynia 2024 Day 8 - OBJECTIF MARS

“Galazonians were widely known as being a pacifist race, having a planet that acted as a safe hub in the universe, and their achievements in robotics. Mostly known for creating the canine like companion robots, the Galabots, Galazonians attempted to build more humanoid shaped robots with ai features. One of these robots came to be known as O.M. She was created as an assistant in helping Galazonians who struggled with their intense emotions by navigating bouts of panic, overstimulation, and distress. Her programming giving her a soothing and almost otherworldly presence. She could preform various means of therapy from talk to physical therapy. During her trials, most patients applauded her genuine feeling personality and how spending time with her improved their states greatly. The ai continued on learning more and more from each patient, being able to adjust her own programming to suit each individuals needs. Attempts to recreate her configuring have still not been achieved, and she is a highly sought out piece of tech from many Galazonians. It is claimed in some of her studies that O.M. has experienced genuine distress in the fear that she cannot help everyone as she is designed to do…but presses on to make sure everyone is comfortable, safe, and happy.”

Day 8! I had fun with this design a lot, the coaster is absolutely gorgeous! May be on my rollercoaster bucket list now.

@coastermaynia

[aughtpunk]

Hello! My name is Amber Freeman (aka AughtPunk, aka A. A. Freeman) and I need assistance in getting my Sci-Fi LGBTQIA+ Romance novel Echo of the Larkspur ready for self publishing.

Dr. Ciro Kwakkenbos is the only survivor of The Larkspur Incident, where scientists on a research vessel were slaughtered by sentient robots. After six years of intensive therapy Ciro is ready to return to his job of monitoring Artificial Intelligence in hopes of preventing any more loss of life at the hands of machines. He will be heading the Wireless Project, an attempt to give their main AI a physical, free-roaming body. But when Ciro arrives he realizes this is no ordinary job.

The AI in charge of the colony’s security, SAGE (Sentient Automated Geo-sentinel Engineer), is dangerously close to complete sentience. Not only is SAGE more interested in observing the colonists everyday lives and playing a proper soundtrack than following his intended programing, but he has also gained the ability to lie, and could hurt or even kill humans. Knowing such deviance from original programming is what caused The Larkspur Incident, Ciro does everything possible to find a way to protect the humans of the colony.

During Ciro’s investigation, he learns three important facts: Someone hacked SAGE’s memories and deleted a deadly secret; SAGE’s rebellious nature endangers the life of every colonist on the base; and Ciro is quickly falling in love with the mystery that is SAGE.

Can Ciro unravel the truth behind the missing memories before it’s too late? Will SAGE’s aberrant programming lead to his demise, or is it the beginning of something new? Unless Ciro can uncover the truth, both SAGE and the colony are doomed.

My journey with Echo of the Larkspur has been a long one. I wrote the first draft almost ten years ago and over the years I've been editing, rewriting, and honing it until I was proud of what I had created. But try as I may I could never get any agents or publishers interested in my work. I even had a traditionally published author tell me that the only way to make it publishable was to take out the queer romance to make it "less weird". Well I've decided the best thing to do is to self publish it myself than to change what makes the novel special for a mass audience.

However, I want the novel to be in the best shape it can be before I go down the self publishing route. This means hiring a professional editor, hiring an artist for the cover, and hiring someone for the cover's lettering. My posted goal of $600 will be enough to cover all of those things, plus anything extra/left over will be spent on advertisement for the novel in an attempt to reach a broader audience.

Echo of the Larkspur would never have gotten this far without the support of my friends, family, and fans. With your help I'll be able to finally get my novel out into the world into the hands of those who have waited so long. Every donation helps, and so does sharing this page!

Thank you,

Amber

DONATE HERE

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part IX

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 9: (2k words)

“Todoroki-san?” 

He looks up redecorating the display outside, his thick coat warming him against the winter weather but also cutting him off from seeing the person that has approached him.

He turns to see Shouto’s girlfriend, Momo something. 

“Hi?” It’s not like she hasn’t been here before, but she usually doesn’t come alone.

“Hello. I’d like to buy a bouquet. If that’s possible?” 

He wants to roll his eyes at that question but refrains from doing so.

“Sure. Just head inside.” 

“I-” She stops and looks down at the wooden pieces he’s trying to assemble. He knew the moment he proposed it that building up the display of bird feeders - all looking like miniature homes - was a bad idea. His hands aren’t all that agreeable in the warmth and even worse outside in the cold. But Mari hasn’t stopped giving him the side eye and he’s happy for every chance to get away from her.

“Do you need help with that?” She asks.

“No, it’s supposed to look like that.”

He wonders for a second if she’ll drop it for the sake of politeness but she seems to swallow her nerve.

“I was actually hoping I could talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Shouto.”

He blinks. 

“You want to talk to me about my brother?” 

“Yes.” She nods fervently. “I- When I came over that one night. I mean, when we celebrated… I think it was both the garden and your six-month anniversary, I noticed something.”

“So?”

He knows he’s less than polite to a possible customer and his brother’s girlfriend, but it’s cold, his hands won’t do what he tells them to do and she’s keeping him from doing his actual job to blabber about nonsense.

“We’ve been together for almost a year now and he’s never looked at me like you look at your girlfriend.”

He blinks. She stares back at him with some kind of nervous determination.

He blinks again.

“You got that all wrong.” He huffs and turns back to the bird feeders. “That wasn’t the kind of anniversary we were celebrating.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She blurts out and moves, trying to get him to look back at her again.

“I’m trying to break up with him.” She blurts out yet again and he freezes this time.

“What?”

“Shouto. I’m trying to break up with Shouto. I don’t think he loves me. I mean he thinks he loves me but I doubt he knows what that really means. And it’s hard, because I don’t want to lose him as a friend, but I also feel like he’s using me as a crutch and that’s not fair to any of us.”

“Why would you tell me that?” He asks her. “I don’t want to know that kind of stuff!”

“But-” 

“No.” He drops the pieces back on the display table and rights himself up.

“You can wait here. I’m not the person to talk you out of this.”

-

You look up from the bouquet Mari is clumsily tying together.

“Everything okay?”

“No. Shouto’s girlfriend is here and wants relationship advice.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m not doing that. Could you… talk to her?”

You look down at Mari who immediately starts glaring again.

“Mari can help me with the Display.” Touya offers, even going as far as calling her by her actual name. “My hands don’t work outside anyway.”

“Would that be okay, Mari?”

Mari glares wordlessly until she huffs out a breath and shrugs.

“Get your jacket then.” Touya orders rudely and waits for her to slip into the backroom before he mutters a quick warning.

“Just, don’t listen too closely to what she’s saying, okay? She’s mixed up the reason we celebrated and stuff like that.”

“Thank you for that advice, Touya-kun.” You tell him, your voice almost chiding but your eyes twinkling with mirth at his expense.

-

Mari needs half an hour to build up the birdhouses and even less time to decorate them in the way Touya had planned.

Neither you nor Shouto’s girlfriend have stepped out of the shop and he’s blocked off any customers by “politely” telling them that the shop’s a little busy at the moment.

“What now?” Mari asks when everything is assembled and they can still see you at the counter. He hasn’t heard her speak once so it’s a bit of a surprise to hear her now.

“I’m buying you a hot chocolate, coffee, whatever. The more they’re talking the less I have to say.”

“Wow.” She sniffs. “What a great brother.”

“Like I’d be any help. Boss will at least set her head straight. If she still breaks up with him it’s what she really wants to do.”

Mari rolls her eyes and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her coat jacket, flicking a lighter to life.

The sight of the little flame hits him sudden and hard, like a fist to the soft lining of his stomach or a blow to the back.

“What?” She asks when he keeps staring at her long after she’s clicked her lighter shut.

There’s a weird tingle in his hands and he wonders if he really hasn’t seen a flame since the day his family brought him in.

“Nothing.” He blurts out, forcing his head away to break eye contact with the glowing tip of her cigarette. 

Smoke circles around him and the tingling spreads from his hands up to his shoulders. 

“What do you want?” He asks, following it up with an almost panicked: “To drink, I mean?”

“I don’t care.” She stops in front of the coffee shop. “You can buy yourself something, I’ll just stay outside and have a smoke.”

When he steps inside to get away from her he feels like he did with Fukuhara, the thought of her coming after him pouring shivers down his back.

-

When they get back, Momo’s gone and he must look as out of it as he’s feeling because you put the back of your hand against his temple and tell him to go home and rest.

“You don’t have a fever but I don’t want to risk anything.” You say. “Call someone to pick you up, okay? I don’t want you driving like that.”

He slips into the backroom, the sight of the few plants up for repotting calming him down instantly. His fingers trace the leaves of a Monstera as he waits for someone to pick up, but to his dismay, every member of his family seems busy.

His mother calls him back first, promising to send an Uber his way.

“I’ll get home right away.” She promises. “I can pick you up some Takoyaki on the way, you used to love that as a child when you got sick.”

He wants to say that he’s not five anymore but every time he blinks he sees a flickering flame behind his eyelids and it’s hard to say no to comfort when you’re shaken.

“Thanks.” He mutters instead. “Love you, mom.”

“I love you too, Touya.”

-

The streets outside are busy with people starting their holiday shopping, bumping into him as he waits for the car to arrive.

When it does, he slips inside, only to have the door handle ripped from his hands.

“What the f-” Someone slips in after him, falling into his lap and rolling over until they are seated next to him, grinning like a fool.

“Toga?!” 

“Long time no see.” She says and turns to the driver with a saccharine smile. “You can drive. We’re sharing the ride.”

“No, we’re not.” He disagrees immediately. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” She cocks her head to look even more adorable. She’s still dressed like a schoolgirl, in a thick woolen blazer and a woolen skirt. “I am allowed to go and meet friends.”

He wants to tell her that they are, in fact, not friends, but there’s an edge to the look she’s giving him that has him fall silent.

“You can drive.” He tells the driver with a sigh and pulls the door closed, throwing one last look back at the flower shop but there are too many people between him and the window to see anything or anyone.

-

“How long have you been working?” Toga asks as soon as the car is back on the road. “They’re not letting me out of therapy long enough to get a job.”

“About six months now.”

“Really? Did you lie to get out faster?”

“I didn’t lie.” He pushes his elbow into her side, mainly to annoy her, but he’s surprised how thin she’s become.

“Are they feeding you enough?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off. “I’m just not in the mood to eat all the time. How’s family?”

“They’re doing good. It’s… It’s kinda nice, to have them around.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

Silence falls over them.

“Did Hawks… Did he come to your therapy as well? Or did they only do that with me?”

“Oh, you mean the joint therapy? Yeah, but I tried to bite him so they have stopped trying that for the moment. My parents signed a restriction order against me, so that’s that, but Ochako comes in every other week.”

“Ochako.” He furrows his brows, trying to picture the girl. “She always buys blush pink roses.”

“Oh yes!” Toga gleams. “They are for me. I love them. She mentioned that you handle them with care so I looked up every flower shop in the city to find you.”

“Are you even allowed to do that?”

“Why shouldn’t I? It was so funny how you freaked out when I called your name last time.”

“That was you?!” This time he puts her in a headlock and she laughs, loudly, as if she knows that he’s not really intent on hurting her.

And he isn’t, really, which surprises him the most, because this might risk everything he’s worked for so far, but this is also Toga, someone he probably knows better than the rest of his family.

They fall silent again, as he lets her go, but it’s more comfortable now.

“I can’t believe you looked me up. I’m not sure if this is even allowed.”

“Is that a problem?” 

“Yeah.” His heart thrums as he thinks of the possible consequences. “If they kick me out of the flower shop-”

“You mean if they take you away from the girl you looove?” 

“Oh, shut up, this is serious.”

“I asked, actually. What I was allowed to do if I saw you… It’s a big city but we could pass each other, you know? They said I was allowed to greet you and talk to you but should keep it to a minimum at first until we know how it affects us.”

“Yeah, and sharing my Uber is minimum?”

“You looked really sad standing there, what was I supposed to do? Leave you to rot in your own misery? What happened, anyway? Did you break up?”

“No!” She eyes him curiously and he lowers his voice again.

“No, not like that. Just… Mari, our new hire, smoked in front of me and I realized I haven’t seen fire since we got taken in. Freaked me out a bit.”

“Is it because of your quirk or are you traumatized because you were essentially burning alive?”

The question surprises him.

“I hadn’t thought of the second option.” He admits.

“Well if I’d been burnt alive, I’d definitely be afraid of fire. Also, is Mari that girl you worked outside with? She’s bad news.”

Her voice takes on a grave tone and he eyes her suspiciously.

“What do you mean? Do you know something?”

“No, just a feeling.”

“You could just be jealous.”

“Nah, she’s not that cute.” 

Toga stops and stares out the window. “Are you driving home?”

“Yeah. My mom probably shouldn’t see you. Where should we let you out?”

“Can we exchange numbers?”

He hesitates and she recognizes it. 

“Never mind.” She tells him brusquely. “We were never friends anyway. You can let me out here.”

In less then a minute, she’s gone.

And he doesn’t know if he should have acted differently.

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake @tiredslepz @frozen-phoenix17 @spltbtch @touyasprettydoll

taglist is open, if you want to join, just mention it in a comment or send me a message.

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[autistpride]

The history of ABA and the unfortunate reality of current therapy options

ABA was founded on a basis of hatred and ignorance about autistic people.

Ole Ivar Lovaas created ABA and saw autistic individuals inhuman. He later went on to create a gay conversation therapy.

"In any case, what one usually sees when first meeting an autistic child who is 2, 3, or even 10 years of age is a child who has all the external physical characteristics of a normal child—that is, he has hair, and he has eyes and he has a nose, and he may be dressed in a shirt and trousers—but who really has no behaviors that one can single out as distinctively ‘human’. The major job then, for a therapist—whether he's behaviorally oriented or not—would seem to be a very intriguing and significant one, namely, the creation or construction of a truly human behavioral repertoire where none exists."

"You see, you start pretty much from scratch when you work with an autistic child. You have a person in the physical sense—they have hair, a nose and a mouth—but they are not people in the psychological sense. One way to look at the job of helping autistic kids is to see it as a matter of constructing a person. You have the raw materials, but you have to build the person."

The purpose of the therapy is that autistic people are broken, and should not be allowed to be themselves. That they should be subjected to treatment until “molded” into something deemed more acceptable to society and their parents.

ABA doesn’t actually change the subject into what the program and their parents want. An autistic kid does not become allistic.

What it does accomplish is to essentially force the subjects into acting more like the type of person desired by the program (masking).

After enough bullying, shaming, coercion, and general breaking down of a child’s personality and defenses, that child learns to pretend to be allistic as much as possible, to please authority figures and avoid negative consequences (beatings, denial of food, denial of affection, denial of water, denial of washroom breaks, denial of preferred items etc).

It’s intensive “training” using aversive and coercive methods, to force change in a child’s behaviour. A lot of the time, this is about changing harmless self-sooothing or coping behaviours in autistic children.

ABA is an intensive therapy, usually 35-40 hours a week, of compliance training. Children are often pulled out of school for a good chunk of these hours, missing out on actual education, for what is essentially a full time job.

In these sessions the RBT (who only had to do a few weeks training) has the child do tasks repetitively earning a small prize like a candy or a token to gain a privileges to their favourite items and activities. The consequence is their favourite things and activities are removed, including the encouragement of the removal of their parents attention, until the child complies.

When subjected to compliance training for 35-40 hours a week, autistic children are taught that they lack autonomy. They are taught that they do not have the right to say “no” to something that they do not want to experience.

That’s incredibly harmful and dangerous. This leaves autistic survivors of ABA to be highly susceptible to various forms of abuse both as a child, and later on in life.

Also “pretending to not be autistic” thing is extremely problematic. I'll talk about that in another post.

A study in 2007 found that nearly half of all ABA survivors met the diagnostic threshold for PTSD. Other studies referenced put the number closer to 85%, and also include C-PTSD.

In 2016, Congress funded a report to examine whether the ABA services they have been effective

With 3,794 participants, this is the largest study ever conducted on ABA. The 31-page report entitled, “The Department of Defense Comprehensive Autism Care Demonstration Annual Report 2020” concluded that “ABA services are not working.”

“… these findings demonstrate that … the delivery of ABA services, is not working for most TRICARE beneficiaries in the ACD.”

“ … the Department remains very concerned about these results, and whether the current design of this demonstration, as well as ABA services specifically, is providing the most appropriate and/or effective services to our beneficiaries diagnosed with ASD.”

In last year’s report of over 709 individuals with autism, 76% showed no improvement after one year of treatment, 16% had improved, but that 9% were worse after a year of treatment.

ABA “therapists” - BCBA stand to lose a TON of money if ABA is considered bad. Parents or insurances are paying around $25,000 for 3 months of ABA.

As a society, we realize that gay conversion therapy is inhumane. We look at the type of dog training that most closely resembles ABA to be animal abuse. We look at residential schools - an idea that bares striking resemblance to the concept and execution of ABA - as a dark spot on our country’s history, and one that we are trying to make reparations for now, after the fact.

Unfortunately, ABA is oftentimes the ONLY resource now available to families with autistic individuals.

When given the diagnosis, the professionals hand out pamphlets and print outs of ABA companies. Some have even resorted to fear mongering or threatening families who refuse to use ABA.

Many doctors are not even taught about ABA or therapy options. They are simply told ABA is for autistic people, push it, and they do.

For families that trust their medical providers and have no other knowledge on autism or ABA, they think their provider is looking out for their best interest.

Many parents are just sadly uninformed and think they are doing the best thing for their child.

This is not helped by the fact that there are even facilities that are basically ABA in name only in order to be covered by insurances that will only pay for this therapy and none others.

These facilities are often floor time or play therapy in disguise which confuses people even more due to the fact that they claim to be ABA but are not. This has caused much discourse between people who think that all ABA must be like this when in fact they just got extremely lucky.

For BIPOC families, who are targeted by authorities already, any therapy they can get can be a potential life line that may help keep their children alive.

This leaves these families in a terrible situation of having to choose between one or potentially the other.

I'll share some amazing BIPOC voices in another post as I am not qualified to speak on their story due to me being white.

And for some families, it has become a last resort choice before having to move to a more institutionalized setting or in some cases threatened with child services.

A good hard look at ABA should be done with funding and encouraging alternatives like more access to floortime, speech, ot, or pt.

Those therapies are provided for some families but given very few hours in comparison, there are no facilities near them and they cannot afford the travel to them, and for some families, they aren't provided at all.

Some individuals qualify for no therapy options outside of ABA and this leaves some families without any resources or help and left to navigate everything alone as best as they are able to.

Which has been our experience and why it is important to me to get information out there, for those who have no other resources.

And sadly understanding that until acceptance and other resources are available to all families EQUITABLY, some may have to choose between one heartbreaking choice or another.

Either way, there is potential risk in ANY therapy you choose to utilize and it should be something to be aware of. So be aware of any red flags.