#neurodivergent fic writers

[ruthbaderjaneway]

My Favorite Editing Techniques, As A Writer With ADHD

(These techniques can be used by anyone, though!)

One of my biggest struggles as a writer with ADHD is editing. I'll hyper focus on writing a piece, and when it's done I’m too impatient to edit. I just want to publish it, NOW! In the past, what I would do is publish the piece, then re-read it and fix mistakes. I knew it was not ideal, but it was the only way I could motivate myself. Here are some strategies I’ve found that can be ADHD-friendly:

Ask someone to proofread your work or do a beta read. It can help to have someone look over your writing. If you are impatient to publish like I am, I recommend finding a proofreader/beta reader BEFORE you finish. That helps me with accountability. If I try to find a beta reader AFTER I finish it, I'll probably be too impatient to find someone.

Listen to your rough draft using Speechify. Seriously, you have to try this one. It's a great way to catch words that you have misspelled.

Print out a copy and edit it by hand. I like this method because it helps slow down my brain. Also it gives me an excuse to use colored pencils or my fountain pen. This is a good strategy if you're someone who likes to scribble. You don't have to use a pen to edit. You can also use fun writing utensils, like crayons!

Use editing software like Grammarly. This is another good way to catch your mistakes. What I like about it is that it can catch the mistakes while you are writing. That's good if you're impatient or impulsive. My only complaint about Grammarly is that the plans are a little expensive. Here are some alternatives to Grammarly if you want to try something different.

Image by Hannah Grace on Unsplash.

[chronicially-parker]

gn autistic!reader x spencer reid hcs ☆

this is my first post on this blog so i hope you enjoy! please send asks i love responding and being able to utilise your amazing ideas! ♡

spencer absolutely loves to listen to you go on and on about your current special interest

he likes to read and memorise facts about your special interests to feel closer to you when hes away on a case

whether hes out on a case or just sees something in the shops, he always buys little gifts he thinks you'll like and loves seeing your face light up whenever he gives them to you

he adores you so much it causes him so much pain when he sees you upset or overwhelmed

"hey baby, its ok. where are your headphones?"

he is very autism coded himself so i think he'd understand how it feels and would immediately try and do whatever he can to help

if you like pressure or hugs he will never hesitate to pull you into a bear hug and just stay there for a while

hes definitely the type to press soft kisses on your forehead during one of those hugs and just let his lips linger for a bit

"what can i do to make it better?"

if you have any self-harming stims (like hitting your head) he will pull you into a tight hug so that you cant hurt yourself because youre the light of his life and he hates to see you hurt ♡

[b-theshittywriter]

🐝🐝Now since I'm a writer (although a rly shitty one), I obviously have multiple work in progresses.

One of these is a slice-of-life, with superpowers, focusing on characters with mental disorders/disabilities.

Because I would really like it if we got more representation.

And while I have ASD and ADHD, I would appreciate if people could talk to me about their experiences with their disorders/disabilities, information is important and I find I am currently ignorant of many things.

Ideas of characters would also be appreciated.

In fact, why stop at just mental disorders/disabilities?

Tell me about what it's like with physical disabilities.

Tell me about your cultures.

How to portray different people well.

How to write different accents.

I want to learn about people, and I think talking to them is the way to do that.

So please, teach me.

P.S. please reblog so I can get more knowledge and become a god.

[midnights-dragon]

Fun fact about my writing process I thought I'd share: I use the 'Headings' feature when using Google Docs to collapse chapters and work on them separately, and then per chapter, I use this flower-coding system!

Ft. sneak peeks at chapter titles for I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you (@moriarty4life)

[infernalmelancholy]

you know when you're writing a chaptered fic over the course of months but then suddenly your writing style starts changing but now you can't just start writing in a completely different tone so you try to emulate your old vibe while also struggling because the demon in your head wants you to do the new thing now but you can't because continuity is important and then you just sit and cry for a while

[thatredheadwriter]

Phthalo Blue

frankie morales x neurodivergent!reader

Frankie comes home to find you overstimulated and he knows just how to help.

This was supposed to be a drabble, but it’s just over 2.3k words. I’m in my feels and very overstimulated and would like it very much if a big strong sexy man wanted to come and take care of me for just a little bit. A lot of this is written around my own experience as a neurodivergent person, so obviously everyone won’t relate, and I also express a lot of the reader’s frustration at getting overstimulated, as that’s something I personally deal with. I’m also marking this as female!reader because of the singular gendered spanish noun and the fact that I wrote this with female!reader in mind, but it’s fairly gender neutral overall.

This is a SFW oneshot for neurodivergent!female!reader with Frankie Morales of Triple Frontier. This work does not contain smut, however, it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule, my blog is only for those over the age of 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

Neurodivergent reader

Female reader

Domestic Frankie

Mentions of Frankie's daughter from another relationship (but she's not in this one)

They have a meet-cute, I might write more about these two

Swearing

Vivid descriptions of feeling overstimulated

Reader has hair, no specific description

Possible allusion to Frankie’s own mental health issues (very mild)

Reader feels guilty for needing to make accommodations

I want to insert a little disclaimer here: not all neurodivergent people experience overstimulation the same way. Also, Frankie is super helpful and supportive in this fic, because this is the kind of fic I need to read right now. A lot of neurodivergent folk prefer to be alone when overstimulated and (most importantly) we do no need anyone to fix us. If you are neurodivergent, you should not feel bad or shameful or guilty about stimming/using fidgets/making accommodations for yourself. I’m bringing up some of those feelings here, and while I feel it’s addressed in the fic, I want to explicitly reinforce that these are not bad things.

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

Frankie could read you like a book. It’d always been that way, as much as you used to despise it. After years of hiding irritation and overstimulation, masking your frustration with a too bright, too loud, too coarse world, it was unsettling. For once in your life, you were seen, and it made you feel like a bug under a microscope.

But as you got to know Frankie, you realized he wasn’t looking at you like some science experiment or a stressed-out shelter animal. He cared, and noticing was his way of showing that he cared. At first, it was little things at the shop, always making sure you had earplugs or headphones available, being careful to never sneak up on you. You absolutely adored the way he would lean up against the front desk and talk to you, facing the front door so there was no obligation of eye contact.

Frankie Morales wasn’t doing all those things just so he could ask you out, but when he did there was no way you'd turn him down. Especially when he'd asked you to meet him at your favorite café on Sunday morning.

Since that first date, the two of you have learned a lot about each other. Frankie learned that you love his little touches, so long as his presence is announced and he doesn’t come up on you from behind. You learned that Frankie has a tendency to shut doors with a little too much force, despite his best efforts. He hates fireworks and being on any plane that he’s not flying. You despise fluorescent lights and would rather die than touch dirty dishes that have been soaking in the sink.

When the door from the garage slams, announcing Frankie’s arrival home, you sigh. Tonight you’re supposed to meet Santi and the Millers out at some restaurant and even though you love the boys, you’d rather die. It’s been a lousy day, first waking up with a headache, then being stuck in a zoom call all morning with a guy who could not figure out how to mute himself, then spending nearly six hours hunched over one project that you were due to present tomorrow and it just wasn’t quite right.

“There you are,” Frankie finds you halfway contorted in your desk chair, face mere inches from the screen as you try to figure out why that one element of the logo doesn’t look like it should. He can tell from the eight different cups on your desk and the noise machine playing ocean sounds in the corner that you were in a mood. Rain was for work, thunderstorms for relaxing and reading, and ocean sounds for when you were really worked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled halfheartedly, eyes tracing the cursor across the screen, It wasn’t untl Frankie moved into your line of sight, patiently taking a seat in the armchair by your desk, that you really acknowledged him. “Sorry, I’ll be finished in just a minute.” You shot him an apologetic glance, knowing he’d had a long day too.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, knowing you feel guilty anytime you feel like you're distracted from him. “I’ll be right here when you’re finished.”

He’s patient. Thirty minutes later you finally double check that the project saved and close the tab, leaning back in your char with a groan.

“That bad?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you know I’ve had a bad day?”

He laughs, “Your knee hasn’t stopped bouncing since I got here, you have four different fidgets out on your desk, there are eight cups in here, your hair looks like you’ve stuck your finger in a socket, and you’re playing the ocean sounds. I can tell.” The last words he follows with a soft smile.

You just stare at him, in awe of the way this man knows you. The feeling slightly eases the hot prickle at the back of your mind and for the first time all day, it’s like you can take a deep breath again.

“What time do we need to leave?” you ask, stretching your arms above your head in a way that makes you feel like an overgrown housecat. You’re still not looking forward to going out, but it no longer seems like an unbearable task. As long as Frankie’s with you.

“I already texted the guys and told them we’re a rain check for tonight,” he held up his phone like you're going to ask for the evidence.

“When’d you do that?”

“While you were finishing your thing. I know you’re wound up and the last thing you need is to go to the grand opening of yet another business Pope has invested in.”

At a loss for words, you find yourself scrambling into his lap, his musky scent grounding you further as you try o show him how much you appreciate his understanding. But your eyes snap up to his when the chair creaks under the two of you.

“Let’s get some dinner, okay?”

You leave Frankie upstairs to get changed. In the kitchen, you find he’s already loaded the dishwasher, a chore you’d been hoping to do at lunch but didn’t, and took out the trash. At a loss for what to fix, you pad into the living room and turn on the TV, wincing when the volume is slightly too loud.

Nothing seems to scratch the itch in your brain. You want to watch something, but you’re not sure what. Everything just feels wrong. Just like dinner, you can’t decide and you can feel that prickly sensation growing again now that you’re away from Frankie and his overwhelming amount of common sense. He was great at pointing out things that should be obvious, and yet he never made you feel like an idiot for missing them.

Just as you’re beginning to sink into despair over trying to pick a fucking tv show, Frankie appears, and he can see the frustration written all over your face.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he pulls you into a hug, and you let him, nuzzling into his old t-shirt and breathing him in.

“It’s just a lot right now,” you mumble.

“I know. Come help me fix dinner and then we can find something.”

“ ‘kay”

You’re not so much helping in the kitchen as you are observing, but neither of you minds much. Frankie is a whiz in the kitchen, and it soothes you a little to watch him in his element. As he works, gathering ingredients and chopping things, he tells you about his day. Joseph took left the garage for four different phone calls from his girlfriend, the new receptionist has terrible breath, but at least she knows how to answer the phone unlike the guy Grant hired after you left. Something about a new timeclock system makes you giggle, Frankie’s an old soul and he’s never been a big fan of computers or anything considered remotely new technology.

Eventually he has you in stitches, halfway laid across the kitchen island as you try to catch your breath as your chest heaves with laughter.

“I’m not fucking kidding, the new parts system is evil,” he points the wooden spoon in his hand at you and even though his words are serious there’s a grin tugging the corners of his mouth.

It’s not long before he’s plating up a dish, something with rice and vegetables and chicken that smells so damn good and tastes even better, a fact you make known to him.

“Always happy to cook for you, querida.”

Once you’ve had your fill, he sets your plate in the sink “for tomorrow” he mumbles into the top of your head as he steers you into the living room.

“Do you have anything in mind?” he asks, nodding to the TV, but you’ve already picked up your tablet and opened it to a magazine article you’d been reading.

“Your team is playing, Frankie,” you settle into his side and adjust the screen brightness. “Watch your game. I already made you stay home tonight.”

He’s quick to correct you, “You didn’t make me do anything. We stayed in tonight and I for one, am loving it.”

You just roll your eyes at him and pull your favorite blanket over your lap.

Your eyes flit to the TV for the second time in ten minutes. Eleven minutes left to go in the fourth quarter and the other team had just called a timeout.

In retrospect, you knew this would happen. Something about live sports was always a little too much, even if you weren’t really watching. Usually it was something you could bear, you’d distract yourself with work or a book or noise-canceling headphones. But after the day you’ve had, your ability to regulate is shot.

You got all the way to the first half before you moved to the other end of the couch. Everything was touching you, Frankie, his clothes, your clothes, the blanket, your hair; it was all too much. You needed some relief. Now you were cold, and alone, but slightly less irate.

By the end of the third quarter you’re hyperaware of the tightness in your jaw and the fact that you’ve had to reread the same page seven times and you still haven’t understood a single word of it. Everytime a commercial comes on it’s an internal battle not to flinch, the volume seeming so much louder than the game itself. The TV is too bright and so are the lamps and god your head hurts. But Frankie’s been so sweet and accommodating all evening. You feel like the least you can do is let him watch one damn game.

“You okay, pup?” Frankie squeezes your ankle and draws you out of your spiraling thoughts. His eyes are full of concern and you notice you’ve been rocking your knee for who knows how long.

“I’m fine,” you shake your head and smile unconvincingly, the prickly feeling taking over your whole body now, “I’m going to go get ready for bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Frankie isn’t convinced, you can tell by the way is brow stays tightly knit and you can practically hear the protest on his lips, but before he can say anything you’re up and pecking him on the lips before bounding up the stairs.

For a moment you debate just showering, before deciding that bombarding yourself with water is probably not the best idea. Instead you splash some water on your face, brush your teeth with your favorite toothpaste–designated as such for its mild flavor–and slip on a sleep shirt instead of your yoga pants and tank top.

As you walk back down the stairs you brace yourself for the sound of football, but it doesn’t come. Rather, as you round the corner, you hear a familiar voice and a faint tapping sound.

You nearly start crying when you realize Frankie has flipped it over to Bob Ross, a soft smirk on his face.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” he almost whispered, eyebrow quirking.

“I was hoping you hadn’t,” you murmured honestly, stumbling towards the couch and collapsing into him. For as long as you could remember, Bob Ross was better than any sedative at calming your mind and bringing down the noise of life. You’d shared that fact with Frankie when he caught you watching it in your car one day during your lunch break after a particularly stressful interaction with an rude customer.

“Did you think I would get mad or something?” you can hear the hurt in his voice and it makes your chest ache.

“No, Fish,” you settle into his side, “I just feel like you accommodate me all the time. And you should be able to watch a football game in your own home.”

He rumbles in understanding, “But it’s your home too, pup. Hell, you're the one who painted Sofia's room. And our room. And you put together the furniture, and-”

“I know, I know," you cut him off before he can start a proper list.

"I don't want you to hide stuff from me."

He's right, but you're tired. “Let’s just watch some Bob Ross and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow."

You nod into his belly and sigh into the darkness, noticing he’s turned off the lamps too. And that’s how you stay for a while, for at least two Bob Rosses, until the tension has melted from your body and you’re contentedly limp against Frankie.

As the credits roll for the second episode, you sit up with a yawn and find yourself stifling a laugh. Frankie has fallen asleep with his mouth open, and it’s a sight that melts your heart. A year and a half ago if someone told you that you’d be living with the cute, scruffy mechanic from work and forcing yourself to wake him up for the sake of his lower back, you would have called them crazy.

But you kiss him awake, something even a grumpy Frankie enjoys, and pull him off the couch and up the stairs. The day is over and now you get to spend the next eight hours with the person who knows you best, and you know that no matter what life throws at you, Frankie’ll be there at the end of the day to turn on Bob Ross and remind you that home is never far away.

[stergeon]

Sorry if this seems sudden, but what are your thoughts on a Young Edelgard befriending a Young Byleth who canonically doesn't have friends due to how people are afraid and creeped out by her behavior?

Yea, the tragedy is how Byleth has nobody their age to connect with as well as most not getting them to the point of dehumanization until Garreg Mach, but it's neat to think of.

ohhhh tbh i love this… in my mind, young edelgard is very precocious, but also extremely coddled (comes with being royalty) and kind of oblivious/condescending without meaning to be. “aren’t all tutors dreadful? hm? you don’t have lessons? what do you do all day? what?? you work??? is that allowed????”

like, well-meaning with a strong sense of justice, and genuinely curious about other people’s lives, but without a frame of reference for anything yet.

and young byleth, as you say, would have been intimidating to be around lol. an eerie and serious kid who probably learned how to kill a man not long after she learned to walk. i see her as being affable in the sense that she just kind of goes along with whatever situation she’s in, without any investment in it one way or another beyond doing what she’s told, but she would definitely be confused by other kids and struggle hard with social cues, etc. until she gets sufficiently good at reading people as to passably mask. it’s a very lonely and difficult way to live.

i could absolutely see edelgard running into this weird little girl and adopting her on the spot. “why don’t people play with you. what do you mean, you don’t know how to play. we’re going to play a game right now; so there.” edelgard is nothing if not driven and dedicated to the causes she believes in (and her massive savior/martyr complex doesn’t help lol—she’s already adopted one local weirdo by becoming besties with hubert). so i think if she set her mind to being byleth’s friend, she would make it happen. this kid is now her personal project. they WILL be friends.

and i reckon that friendship would do wonders for byleth. she had so little interaction with anyone her age in her youth, and having one real friend might make all the difference for her. edelgard could help ground her, and help her better understand the world they live in, and keep her in touch with her humanity—or, really, help her discover it in the first place. meanwhile, edelgard could learn a LOT from byleth, who’s spent her life unhoused* and pretty much living paycheck-to-paycheck with jeralt’s band of violent (and likely alcoholic, per jeralt and alois) mercs. byleth could lend her some perspective and further shape edelgard’s love for the people of fódlan, as well as her understanding of what kinds of societal changes are needed to make things better for everyone.

who knows, that connection might even lead sothis to emerge earlier…

the concern, of course, is jeralt, who (for debatably valid reasons) never wants to stay anywhere for too long, and probably would get super freaked out by the idea of his kid hanging around one of the heirs of the adrestian empire. whether they’d actually have enough time to become friends… idk.

but kids are funny when they set their minds to something. i’d like to think edelgard would decide, day one, that they’re friends, and friends help each other, so that’s what she’s going to do. i’d like to think that when edelgard found out byleth’s group would be leaving again soon, she’d use that big brain of hers and coax her father into hiring the mercenaries on for a long-term mission or as a standing battalion. adrestia’s been on the outs with the church for a good while already, so jeralt might feel comfortable enough to consider putting down roots, even if just for a little longer than usual.

that could REALLY change both byleth and edelgard’s lives. in my little daydream, byleth starts training to be a knight and a personal guard for edelgard, and basically spends as much time around her as hubert does. and maybe, when the insurrection happens edelgard is taken to fhirdiad, hubert stands a better chance of finding her with someone by his side who has spent her entire young life in the woods and on the roads, tracking enemies and avoiding pursuers. maybe they find her. maybe they help prevent some truly terrible things from happening.

what happens from there, idk; so many of edelgard’s views are informed by her experiences and it gets too complicated for my tiny brain to realistically figure out what would occur and who she’d be if it went down like that instead.

but byleth would be changed just by knowing edelgard. having someone in her young life who is invested in her, who sees beyond the fog of the day-to-day, who’s interested in what she wants, who embraces and celebrates her quirks and doesn’t shun her for them, who grants her stability and some agency in her own life… someone who sees her as a person, not just as a sword or set of hands… how could anyone not be changed by something like that?

* with the exception of Whatever The Fuck she was doing while jeralt was parading around in leonie’s village for however long. this is my least favorite plot hole in the game, namely because leonie acknowledges it. “huh. i don’t remember you being there, and you don’t, either. maybe you were with a relative”??? what relative, IS?? how many living relatives does byleth have that aren’t trying to turn her into a mommy-god??? why fake your kid’s death and disappear “for her safety,” just to ditch said kid somewhere with someone for months?????

WHERE WAS YOUR CHILD, JERALT??????

ok i’m done yelling lol. thank you for this ask, this was really fun to think about <3

[imogenegomi]

Chapter three is now up! 😊

[voids-call]

Updated fic time babyyyy

Fic link

Chapters: 2/10

Wc: 2.3k

Summary: Both Freddy and Foxy are morons who don't understand what romantic love is. Everyone thinks they are an item, they think they hate eachother. (Chapter) Summary: Foxy's a moron and got himself hurt. Freddy has to go find him and drag him to Parts & Services.

[cat-downthestreet]

I was having a normal day until suddenly I got the perfect fic idea. it was so exciting that I made a six paragraph long brain vomit draft, then proceeded to spend several hours on an outline brainstorming ideas when I couldn't think of anything to continue said draft

anyone wanna bet on how long it'll take for the ADHD to kick in and crush my creative streak 🙂

[bratzforchris]

welcome to my blog ♡

i'm aves :)

i'm 19 and use she/her pronouns!

i've been a 5sos fan since 2014 and have seen them 3 times<3

i only write for 5sos, but i reblog stuff about taylor swift, one direction, and just aesthetic stuff in general :)

i'm autistic and have adhd, so please be kind if you notice i haven't posted in a while, there's mistakes in my work, or when you leave comments ♡

all of my work is 100% my own. this is the only place i post. i have an ao3 (sgfgsun) and a wattpad (1989lukesversion) but those are inactive. i do not allow plagiarism, posting elsewhere, or translation of my work ♥︎

i look forward to being besties ❁

[empyrangel]

people on tumblr will literally be like being weird and unconventional is only acceptable to make other people feel unwelcome and not under any circumstances to be done unironically

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

me, sending my mom tumblr posts: I am about to overshare so much about myself, Mom

mom: cool [starts typing an essay also full of oversharing]

[fromaliminalspace]

Got thinking about something during my guitar practice today and now it's haunting me so gonna get it out. As a person who's kinda on the autistic/ADHD spectrum I've been noticing how this daily (well, almost daily) practice is working for me in ways that confirm the message of posts like this. How getting my hands on the instrument gives me enough happy brain chemicals to at least try to do sth about my to do lists, how my feasible progress (no matter how far I still am from where I wanna be skill-wise) helps me not just carry on with my day but sometimes even pull me out of my head and give a little bit of motivation to work on stuff I wanna work on. From just spending a couple of hours tormenting my poor old acoustic with music that is meant to be played on sth capable of emitting way heavier sound than just that.

And I can't help but think how the same thing would explain (not that it needs much explanation) so much about Eddie Munson's excellent guitar skills and his passion about music, especially in context of him also displaying quite a few ADHD traits and having failed to graduate high school twice. And the odds are that he's self-taught so he had the freedom to engage in this hobby and learn this skill in ways that make sense for his own brain, instead of having to conform to how disciplines are taught in ways often colliding with how neurodivergent minds work, instead of having to deal with someone else who'd pressure him into living up to expectations at the expense of himself and scold in case of failure or missed deadline.

No, this is something Eddie learned entirely on his own volition, something he can easily pour entire hours of concentrated effort into, something that reminds him that he's not as much of a failure as everyone else says he is. So naturally it's endlessly interesting to me how exactly him regularly playing music works with regards to his brain chemistry, and alas it's not something I've ever seen explored in fics yet, though it's always fascinating to read how other people write him as having ADHD even without making it intersect with music. Which shouldn't probably be surprising, given how much this niche kind of thing might be tricky to actually write unless informed by experience, but still. It may be niche, yeah, but it has quite a lot of potential for offering some insight for what makes Eddie tick and what exactly this admittedly large part of his life means to him. And this is, again, endlessly interesting to me

[sodascribbles]

im sorry to all the wips ill never finish. like y'all deserve better

[big-boah]

Chapters 34 & 35 just posted ‼️ It's party time 😏 plus a lil fluff chapter and we finally get to Vegeta not having to write things as much! I'm thinking it's going to be a 2-3 month time skip after this. So many exciting things coming up for our boys 😄

As always, this is an 18+, self-projecting, NSFW DBZ Kakavege fic centered around Vegeta if he was a human semi-verbal autistic guy.

Enjoy! 🐉🟠💙