#someone who you'd NEVER expect to be autistic

[amsterdamlouie]

i forgot grey's anatomy had an autistic character in season 5.. but i truly hate the way richard lowkey disparages dixon for being autistic. i promise u.. her being autistic doesn't reflect her job as a surgeon. it may influence her bedside manner and how she interacts with others, but nothing about her work. i love richard but he can be a real 🤡 sometimes...

[callofdudes]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Autistic Reader headcanons.

A/N: I myself am not autistic but I do know a fair bit about it. So I figured I'd write headcanons before writing a fic just to dip my toes in and see if I can get it right.

I know that autism can present a bit differently for some things across different people. Please feel free to let me know if something in this list is not correct. ❤️

Ghost would be lying if he said he didn't give you extra special treatment apart from his other teammates. And it's well justified. Simon knows not to compare you to a child but he also knows that you need things the others don't.

Simon has picked up on subtle signs throughout the months working with you. How sometimes when things didn't go according to plan on base it would leave you more stressed out than it should have. Sometimes if your food wasn't what you had expected it to be, he'd notice how you'd react.

He eventually consulted your file before making any decisions. That's how he'd found out you are autistic.

Simon knew someone who was autistic, so he made sure to keep his eye close on you.

He noticed each little shift. How you would stim with your clothing or your hair, too embarrassed to carry a fidget toy around base. But that didn't matter to Simon. He made sure to take care of everything. He bought some fidget toys small enough to fit in his jacket and when in meetings or just sitting around, he'd pull a toy like magic from his pocket and hand it over.

You'd been incredibly grateful the first few times, and then it just became routine that Simon would carry around the toys for you and have one on hand whenever you needed.

He also noticed which ones you liked, and didn't like. Some you would hand back because they didn't feel right on your fingers. Others clicked and slid in a way you didn't quite like, and he kept a tab of that. He compared fidget toys you did like to similar ones and was very precise every time he got you a new one.

He made sure that in every environment he was nearby. How you'd react to the lights, different sounds. How you'd react when it got to loud and crowded or too quiet. What noises bugged you and what calmed you.

When on missions, Simon made sure to talk you through each step. He thought his voice would help you to face the unexpected. Telling you where to go and exactly what to do, ready to face any situation.

"Take a deep breath y/n, you're doing great. Two Shadows on your left, you can take them out from where you are without being spotted"

Your level of empathy and emotional awareness was also something he had to take into account. You could sensitive to anger. You could feel a great deal of empathy and almost take on the burden of It being your fault even if you had nothing to do with it. Because of this, Simon made sure that you were aware his anger was never on you.

"Simon? Did I do something wrong? You looked really upset when you looked at me earlier and I just thought that maybe-"

Simon places his hand on your shoulder. "No no, just had a rough morning. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Got it?"

Simon has also become much more aware of how he teases you. You were emotionally aware to the point that you very clearly understood Simon would joke about being hurt, or would make fun of you and it was all jokes. He understood that you understood how his emotions worked as well.

But there was the occasional time where Simon would pretend to be hurt by your words and you'd have genuine regret. It doesn't happen as often as he would have thought, but when it does, he's right there to reassure you he is completely fine.

Simon actually gets more upset than you do when people call you a child wrapped up in an adults body with a nice little bow on top. Of course you have your traits but Simon has seen your hobbies and interests. You're no super genius but you are more than a child. You just have a different trajectory point on life's train tracks. And Simon makes sure to remind anyone he doesn't think is being respectful of you as a person.

Nightmares can affect you more harshly because of your emotional investment with things and the people around you.

The first time Simon saw you become overstimulated he was a little scared he'll be honest. He panicked a little bit. But now he knows exactly what to do. At first he tried to comfort you, allowing you to be swallowed up in his embrace, he crushed you tightly in his arms and smoothed his hands over your muscles. It would sometimes take a while for you to come down from your high, but he was there for every moment.

When he becomes a bit better at knowing how to handle a situation when you get over stimulated the process is smoother. Simon will notice how you can completely shut down. Sometimes it's near a meltdown with tears flowing everywhere. And other times you just disconnect. You don't move, don't speak, completely distant. Simon approaches you gently and picks you up in his arms.

"This ok?" He whispers near your ear as to not startle you. You cling to him tightly, burying your head in his neck. "Alright, come on, you've had a long day."

He rubs your back and brings you to your room. If you're away from base he just finds a separate room that is quiet. Anywhere he can go to separate the noise and bustling energy from you. If you're in your room he'll lay you down and just get you to relax.

Tears flow down your cheeks, hands still clasping the material of Simon's hoodie. Simon gently rubs your collar and down over your shoulders. He presses on different parts of your arms until you relax. "Take a deep breath. Take a deep breath." Simon breathes in deeply, prompting you to mimick. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and fetches your heavier blanket from the end of the bed. "See? You're ok."

He grabs your fidget from your desk and place it in your hand, or sometimes he'll lean over you and allow you to play with his sweater.

He talks softly and calmly, he does know kinder and softer words of reassurance help.

Sometimes all you want to do is hug Simon under the warmth of your weighted blanket, his arms wrapped around you like mountains compressing you from all angles.

And sometimes Simon will shut the door, lay you on your back and lay the weighted blanket just above the bend in the bottom of your spine. If you want a fidget toy he'll get you one to distract your hands while he runs soothing motions along your muscles, feeling them relax and contract. He plays white Noise in the background for you, or he'll give you his phone so you can watch soap cutting videos or other visually satisfying things.

"How are you doing?" He whispers near your ear, thumbs rubbing over your stomach and up around your back to cup your shoulder blades. "Look at it." You flip the phone to show a satisfying paint video. "Oh, that's a cool one isn't it?" You nod and go back to watching it.

Wherever Simon got so good at doing massages, you would not change it for the world. You've expressed before how nice they feel and how they calm you down. And Simon continues to do them.

Simon always makes sure that when you're over stimulated you have something to do with your hands. Again, if you want to play with his hoodie he'll stay with you so you can. If you want to run your hands through his hair, he's become comfortable enough to allow it.

"What are you doing up there?" He asks with a smile. You hum, combing your fingers through the short hair of his nape and up into the longer locks. "Soft." You express the feeling over your fingertips. "Yeah? I did shower." "I like your hair."

The occasional times you go nonverbal and are unsure how to express your needs, Simon will pull out a few toys and just crawl up next to you. He holds out his hoodie strings and comb his fingers through your hair.

He lays next to you, holding up one of the fidget toys. You gently take it and allow your fingers to move over it. Simon stays, fingers moving to drift through your scalp. You abandon the toy quicker than he expected and reach for his hoodie. "Oh you want this?" He smiles and moves closer so you can play with the strings of his hoodie.

Simon knows that you are incredibly passionate about what makes you happy. He often bugs you that you never shut up, but he knows you love it. One time when you both couldn't sleep early on the morning, Simon made you both tea and sat silently while you went on for nearly four hours about the lore of your favorite game/movie/TV show. He'd add little key points and poke out certain details, which would lead you down a detailed side rant before coming back to wrap everything up. The conversations would ring you dry of information. Simon would be lying if he said he didn't like it when you info dumped on him.

It was one of your ways you expressed your love. Sharing these things that made you so incredibly happy and Simon wanted to be a part of that.

Simon is still learning, and honestly he's very happy to learn. Sometimes he gets things right and sometimes he doesn't. But he is always here to make sure you get the care and provision you need. Whether it's taking a step back or a step in.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

↳ summary: you befriend a cat and somehow end up having to save new york in the process. or; a reader insert of season two episode twelve, of rats and men

↳ warnings: some mentions of violence, and one slight sexual innuendo

↳ notes: part two to this tmnt series that i'm doing. reader is autistic and a bitch. again, it can be read as a stand alone, but it's more enjoyable if you read these in order. once again, mainly a reader insert with a slight lean to a budding relationship between donnie & reader. can be with any other turtle if you want

↳ song: turtle power—partners in kryme

part one | next part | masterlist! | commissions! | carrd

"I know they said that pizza was gluten free, but I definitely tasted gluten."

The cold wind of a New York afternoon nipped at your heels as you meandered down the sidewalk, three figures in tow. Rocks and stray bits of litter dotted the crooked sidewalk, occasionally brushing an untied shoestring of yours.

It was the weekend. A time when school was at the back of your mind and pizza in the front. You had been called up by April this morning whilst lounging in bed, a sense of urgency in her voice as she invited you out with her and Casey for lunch. From the sound of it, she had been asked on a not-date-date again and was relying on you to break the ice. And since you were such a good friend, you changed out of your ratty pajamas to catch up, cursing teenage love under your breath all the way.

It was only after pulling up to Antonio's with a blank expression that you'd saw Irma loitering outside at the same time, tossing a limp wave to her as you both headed in to join your collective friends. Predictably, Casey hadn't been very happy to see either of you, and you responded by politely sticking him with the bill.

Now the four of you were walking aimlessly. Not in the direction of anyone's apartment, which was to assume that you knew where Irma lived. Which you didn't. You weren't sure you were on that level of friendship with her; or any level of friendship really.

Caseys bike ached and creaked with age as he pushed it along beside him. Occasionally you'd find yourself looking back at it, as if expecting it to fall to pieces at any moment. You wonder how long he'd had it for; and why he insited on bringing it along with him if he thought this would have been a romantic getaway. Maybe he was hoping to go on a couples ride or something. The thought of it made you smile wryly.

"Thanks for hanging out with us on our date, Irma." Casey cleared his throat, sending a dry look the purple haired girls way. "We really needed a chaperone."

At that last bit he sent a pointed look April's way, who whistled as she pretended to hear nothing.

"Anything I can do to help." Irma responded, nonplussed.

"Who said that was supposed to be a date, Jones?" You questioned whilst playing with your hoodie strings. "Pretty sure I heard April call it a hang out when she asked me to come."

You heard the squeak of his bike hesitate before continuing, most likely taking your words with a grain of salt.

He might have responded to your poking with some of his own, if a sudden shadow hadn't darted out onto the sidewalk, stopping Casey dead in his tracks.

The beady red eyes of a rat stared curiously at you all as the hockey player jumped three feet in the air, immediately pushing his bike out in front of him as a makeshift barrier. It skittered off once deciding you weren't of any use, dissapearing down a sewer drain.

"I can't belive someone as big as you is afraid of a little rat!" Irma smirked. Or smiled. You could never tell with her. Casey just frowned in response, looking a little embarrassed.

"Well I can't belive that rat was afraid of this adorable kitty!" April kneeled to the ground inbetween Casey and Irma's bickering, picking up a mangy tabby that looked like it had seen better days. It yowled a little at her touch, squirming uncomfortably. You hadn't seen the animal before, but now there was no doubt in your mind that that's what the rat was running from.

"Give it here." You held your hand out to April, then hesitated and repeated yourself in a more softer tone. She looked at the cat and then you before shrugging, handing it over.

Immediately after securing your hold, you picked it up by the scruff. It's fussing ceased, and you took the moment to run a hand down it's neck, all the way to the back of it's tail. After a moment or two, it began to purr like a well oiled machine, leaning into you.

"Wow! You're really good with animals." April awed with her hands clasped.

"Not really. Raph tried to kill me when I first met him." You offhandedly mentioned, still running a concentrated hand down the cats back.

"Who's Raph? Is that your dog?"

You stilled as Casey and April exchanged nervous looks. No one answered Irma's question for a second, surely garnering suspicion from the fourth party.

"Uh, sure Irma. My dog."

"Hm." She pushed her glasses up and squinted at you. "What breed is he?"

You blinked. Your hand came down on the cat a bit harsher this time, resulting in a hiss to sound.

"He's a poodle!" April cut in. "Now can we get a move on? It's getting kind of cold." She looked happy to change the subject, even faking a shiver for effect.

"Sure. Your place this time April?" Irma said as she smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles along her skirt.

"Actually, I was hoping me and Red here could head off. You know. Alone." Casey slung an arm around April with a less than genuine gap toothed smile.

"If alone means with me and April, then yeah." You didn't miss the way April tossed you thankful look as you spoke. "We've got to find some place for this cat, and I'm not exactly fond of bringing it home to my parents. They've already got their hands full with, er, Raph."

Irma stared at you all unimpressed. April tossed her a sheepish smile while hopping on the back of Casey's bike; the former looking happy at the premise of her holding his waist. You just rolled your eyes.

"Sure. I'll walk beside you guys. No biggie."

"Hey, did you want to be the one to hold onto Casey's back?"

"Nevermind. Carry on."

The three of you parted from Irma, tossing seperate waves of your own back at the girl as she grew farther away. Her deadpan look never once faded.

"So. We're all thinking of bringing this to the guys, right?"

April and you nodded at Casey, immediately steering towards the closest alleyway as soon as Irma could no longer be seen. The cat stiffened in your arms at the change in scenery. With a gentle whisper to settle down, you scratched behind its ears. A cough was the thing to break you out of the little trance.

"Having fun you two?" Casey said smugly. You glared at him as he parked his bike and leaned it against an alley wall.

"Stuff it, Jones." You flipped him off the best you could with a cat in your arms, starting forward to where April was wrestling with the manhole.

None of you heard the distant scream as you slid the cover open, sliping into total darkness.

You had come to expect an overwhelming greeting anytime you showed up.

Mikey launched himself out of Donnie's lab the second he'd heard your voice. Nevermind that you were talking with Leo, nodding your approval at the showing of Space Heros on TV. You weren't even sure that Mikey registered that. Once he had his sights set on something, he was like a missile. A very loud very playful missile.

No sooner than stepping a foot into the living room, you were tackled with a exhale of air, falling over while somehow managing to keep the cat from clawing your face off. An impressive feat if you do say so yourself.

"You're back!" Mikey screamed your name, hitting his forehead on your chest with a frantic smile. "We thought we'd scared you off!"

After a few weak growls for him to 'get the fuck of of me Michelangelo', you stood up and brushed yourself off. Mikey bounced excitedly all around you, thankfully not touching. You might have kicked him if he did.

"Dont worry bud. It'll take a lot more than just some mushrooms to get rid of me." You eventually answered, looking very unsurprised for someone that had just been tackled by two hundered pounds of turtle.

"Yeah! I bet you eat mushrooms for breakfast!" Mikey struck a very crude ninja pose. Something that almost made you laugh, considering he was an actual ninja.

"That's what humans do, Mikey. They literally eat mushrooms with their breakfast." Leo called from the couch. You couldn't see his face from where you were standing, but you could practically hear the eyeroll in his voice.

"Oh."

"I know what you meant. Don't worry dude." You waved it off. Mikeys smile returned in no time flat, and you could see questions about the cat bubbling in his throat as he moved on. You were quick to start moving, not really up for a tirade of questions at the moment.

The turtle skipped after you as you headed in the direction of Donatello's lab. His door was still ajar from when Mikey had sprung out of it, and you could hear the faint clinking of lab equipment drifting from it.

"Did anyone order a flea infested cat?" You said as you strolled in, ignoring the many warning signs plastered around the room screaming at you to not enter.

You watched as Donnie looked up from whatever he was doing with a glowing green beaker, face breaking out into a smile at the sight of you. For a moment you did your best attempt to smile back, and it seemed to only increase the size of his. At least before his eyes dropped to the animal you were holding.

"Hey hey hey! Don't bring that thing in here!" His arms immediately shot out to cover any of the open substances he was dealing with. You paid no mind to him, just strolling over to the opposite side of his desk and leaning against it.

"What. The cat or Mikey?"

"Both!"

"Hey!" Mikey whined and pouted at you, still evidently hot on your trail. You snickered, continuing your stroking of the cat that had haulted earlier.

Donnie took one more look between you and the stray before sighing. He seemingly gave up before turning back to his work, probably glad you were entertaining Mikey for a bit. It always seemed to go that way when you came down here.

"So Mike." You watched Mikey stick his tounge out at you at the nickname and you mirrored him. "How do you feel about getting a new pet?"

"Seriously!" He gasped. Donnie stiffened from where he was sitting but didn't turn around.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "We found him up top, and he seems to be tame enough. You might want to make sure he gets some shots though. For worms and all."

You knew everything you were saying was going one ear and out the other for Michelangelo as he reached out to pluck the cat from your arms.

"Aww look at you!" He gushed before proceeding to spout ooey gooey nonsense at the animal. You faked vomiting.

"And Donnie?" You yawned as you felt the after effects of lunch taking hold of you, stretching your arms above your head. "Before you ask, yes, April's here."

You didn't even need to turn around to know that the crashing sound was probably Donnie falling out of his chair with a dopey smile.

"So is Casey." You finished with a slight smirk. Looking back, Donnie glared at you as he pulled himself up, cheeks still tinted red.

"You just had to add that part in last didn't you?"

"Save the best for last as they say!" The confident call of Casey came from the doorway. You looked over to see him leaning against it, trying his best to look what he most likey thought was cool as April strolled right past him.

"Hey my dudes!" Mikey popped up from somewhere behind you to wave frantically at them. He was holding ice cream for some reason now. You'd learned not to question his ways a long time ago.

"I see you've already introduced them to the little guy we found on the streets." April smiled. You rolled your eyes as Donatello made heart eyes at her, stuttering something out about how charitable she was.

"Can we keep her Donnie?" An excited Mikey squealed.

"You know, Master Splinter is a rat." The question from his brother seemed to snap some temporary sense into Donatello, turning in place to cock an eyebrow.

"Yeah! What if that cat goes nuts and attacks him? She'll feed off his body for months!"

"Thanks for the visual, Casey." You walked over to flick him on the crown of his head. A few panicked noises and thumps came from behind you, but you were too busy relishing in the look on Casey's face to notice.

"Alright, well you guys have fun. I'm going to raid your fridge." You stuffed your hands in your pockets and rocked on the balls of your feet. Faintly, you noticed Mikey rush out of the room with something in his hands.

"But we just ate?" April tilted her head at you. You smiled at her without any real emotion.

"I never said I was going to eat anything. Just save it for later."

"I guess I'll come with you." Donnie looked at the wall above you, no doubt checking the time. "I could use a break."

"Sure." You shrugged and turned. "You guys going to stick around or—" The last bit was directed at Casey and April, but they just shook their head and began to follow you out. On the way to the kitchen you were all joined by Leo and Raph, eventually reaching the kitchen table.

"Mikey, please for the love of god stop making out with the fridge." You didn't spare anyone a second look before balancing on your tip toes to open a cabinet. Rustling around, you came up with a bag of marshmallows. Letting a celebratory smile loose, you stuffed it in your hoodie pocket for later.

"Master? Are you okay?"

You turned around. True to Leo's question, Splinter was lumbering into the room. And not looking to hot. You noticed he lacked his usual poise. Instead, he was slouching and blinking slowly. He looked groggy, and you wondered for a moment if mutant rats could have nightmares.

"I need ice for my head." He mummbled. "And also. Possibly a cheese-sicle."

"Cheese-sicle?" You asked Casey from the corner of your mouth. He shook his head with a look that told you he knew about as much as you did.

"No sensei! You can't!"

All of you watched as Mikey slammed the freezer door on Splinter. The speed of it took even you by surprise. Either he had become self aware of the cost of electricity, or Mikey'd lost his mind.

"No?" The room seemed to ice over with the amount of coldness in Splinters voice. Your eyes grew big, and you resisted the urge to start snacking on the marshmallows like a bag of popcorn at the movies.

"You tell me no?" Splinter was hissing now. Any joke you would have made flown out the kitchen. Much like Mikey's body as Splinter sent a punch to his plastron.

"Jesus fucking christ!" You scrambled back, your cry getting lost in everyone else's as they yelled with surprise.

Splinter lowered to his arms and legs like a feral animal, and you managed to get a glimpse at his eyes. Normally, they were the exact same color as Donnie's. But now, they were covered in a sharp red film. Much like the rat that had crossed your path not too long ago on the surface.

Everyone scrambled in different directions as Splinter launched himself around the room. You included. You found yourself up on top of the fridge somehow, looking down with eyes as big as saucers at the scene before you. The thought of the tazer you carry with you crossed your mind, but you immediately felt guilty afterward. This was Master Splinter. The one who had made you feel the safest down here after meeting them. And you had just contemplated shocking him.

You didn't have long to feel guilty though. The turtles all eventually wised up and lunged at their master, pinning all four of his limbs to the kitchen table with difficulty. He continued to writhe violently, and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck.

"Would it help if I jumped onto his chest?" You yelled out, trying to find some way to help. You were met with an astounding amount of no's as an answer.

A few more moments of grunting and struggling played out before you. It didn't take long for Splinter, or whatever had taken his place, to gain the upper hand. Kicking everyone away, he sprung up onto his legs again.

"I have got what I came for." A slight echo tinged his voice. "Soon New York, then the world, will be mine!"

It was then he collapsed, and you finally allowed yourself to clamber down from the top of the fridge. Dust littered the bottom of your arms and legs from how you had been clinging onto it.

"Master, are you okay?" Leonardo was the first to approach him. April next, asking the same exact thing. Splinter grunted lowly in response. You waited with baited breath from him to open his eyes.

You let out a sigh when he did. They were back to brown again.

"The Rat King." Splinter uttered somberly. "He has returned."

You noticed everyone but Casey exchange looks with each other, looking very disturbed at this news.

A brief moment of silence. You blinked twice before speaking.

"The rat who?"

The lair's TV screen blared in front of you. Images of giant rats crossed the screen, and your eyes were trained on a very shrewd looking blonde reporter.

You and Casey had been filled in durring the amount of time it took to help Splinter from the kitchen counter to the living room. Tales of mind control, scientists turned into monkeys, and thousands of rats danced around in your head. You looked no worse than Casey at the news, who had done a horrible job at containing his horror when learning about a literal rat army.

You had barely begun to wonder how the news was still on air when a rat launched itself at the reporter. She dropped to the ground with a scream, and the feed cut to static before you were able to see if she was okay.

"Why did it have to be giant rats." Casey moaned as he flopped onto the couch.

"Er, maybe you should sit this one out Casey." April suggested with a wince. Beside you Donatello allowed himself a smile.

"Do you think tazers could take those things down?" You half heartedly asked no one in particular. Raph crossed his arms and shook his head in your peripheral. You slumped from your spot on the floor with a frown. He patted your shoulder hesitantly. Maybe you could kick them to death instead.

"Donnie, are you sure you can't build a giant mouse trap?"

"Please don't subject my intelligence to something so meaningless." Donnie said your name, rolling his eyes as he messed with his t-phone.

"I bet you'd do it if April asked." You spoke into your hand, not caring if he heard. You heard Mikey laugh at that from somewhere in the distance. If he was anywhere near you, you would have offered him a high-five at the backup.

"Alright guys." Leo now was standing in the center of you all with his hands on his hips. He was doing what you called his Captian Ryan pose, and the sight of it made the corner of your lips twitch into a small smile. If you had to bet, he was probably imagining himself as the fictional character right now.

Master Splinter stood off to the side, watching his son. His own mouth was pulled into a tight line, and he looked the most serious you had seen him in a while. You took one more moment to study him before slowly turning back to Leo.

"I have an idea."

If there was one thing you knew for certain, it was that the turtles definitely did not have a driver's license.

A helmet clunked noisily against your head as you raced through downtown New York City. Rain pelted your vision, and you really regretted not asking for a pair of sunglasses ahead of time.

A four person race-cart sat beneath you, the seats filled by you, April, Donnie and Raph. The latter was driving, occasionally making sharp turns that would send you and Donnie clashing against each other respectively. You accidentally nailed him straight in his shell at one point, and now your elbow was throbbing something awful.

Screams floated to you from behind the cart. You knew if you turned your head, you'd see Mikey holding onto a rope and shouting his shell off, skating like his life depended on it. Which, technically, you guess it did.

The final piece de resistance was the giant foam cheese hat strapped to the top of his head. While you got fitted with an orange helmet that smelled faintly of pizza and sweat, he had been wrestled to the ground and forced to wear the yellow abomination. Apparently he was to be the bait for the giant rats, something that you got the feeling happened very often with him. The bait part you mean. Not giant rats. That was only a two time thing.

Casey was biking around somewhere a few blocks off, hitting stray mutants in the snout with his trusty hockey sticks. The only reason you knew he was still alive and kicking was the faint sounds of shrill screams bouncing off surrounding buildings. You might have laughed if you didn't feel like doing the same thing.

Another tight curb sent you face first into Donnie's lap. With a temper as hot as Raph's own, you scrambled up and yelled at the driver to watch it. You didn't even spare a glance at Donnie, skipping over how incredibly red his face had gotten.

"You try steering in this traffic!" Raphael shouted right back at you. You proceeded to make some not so nice gestures with your hands that April frowned at, the rain making you shake slightly in the cold, before falling back into your seat and awaiting part two of the plan. Something you'd named Grab That Turtle.

Mikey eventually got close enough to the bumper where you could grab his hand. With more effort than it would probably take a normal person, you snatched him up and into the cart. The result was a lovely three person dog pile in the back seat; something that you quickly remedied by pinching Mikey in the arms until he got himself and Donnie off of you.

You didn't even stop to yell at them. In exchange for that, you whipped out your tazer to sent a volt of electricity at a rat that had gotten too close, whooping excitedly when it yelped and fell back. It was nothing like what any of the turtles could have done, but that didn't stop you from feeling way too proud of yourself.

Your moment of celebration was cut short only when you noticed that you were no longer in the race-cart.

Cuts formed all along your face and arms as you tumbled out of the cart and to asphalt. You'd never wanted to discover what street tasted like, but you don't think you'd ever be able to forget it now.

Gravel found its way into your mouth and you felt something pop in your back as a slimey paw trodded on you. Before you could even gather enough strength to push yourself onto your hands and knees, a beak that felt too sharp and too precise for a rat closed around your middle.

Preparing for a quick snip and searing pain, you closed your eyes and grit your teeth. When it didn't come, you peaked an eye open. It was with much shock that you realized the rat wasn't attempting you eat you. Rather carry you, it seemed. Granted, it wasn't being the gentlest about it, but neither were you when you zapped it's brother on the neck.

At the thought of your weapon, you squirmed to try and reach it. Your attempts were stopped by the giant bite around you increasing in strength, practically cutting off all circulation in your arms now.

"Jesus! Fine I'll stop!" You snapped. It responded by dropping you and kicking you forward, growling when you hissed at it in pain.

For the second time that day, the world fell out from beneath you. Where the street should have been, a giant hole gaped. In the split second it took for you to fall through it, you recognized it as an entrance into the sewers.

"Urgh." Was all you could manage to say as the giant rat slid down the same hole, landing on you. Something made a loud cracking sound, and it was only after you felt the back of your head that you realized it had been you.

Your hand came back tinted with red. You glared at it before going cross eyed. And then nothing.

You awoke in a cage, next to the last person you wanted to see at the moment.

A spray painted mask stared back at you as you lifted your head up. It took you a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, nausea slapped you in the face.

"God damnit." You groaned and rolled over. You tried not to vomit. Of course Casey had been caught too. Now instead of just him, the turtles had to rescue you too. Way to go.

Before you could say anything else, your mouth was quickly covered. With half a mind to bite him, you growled. Casey just hit you in the head and no so subtly pointed next to you.

When you turned, you were met with the sight of Irma, who looked thoroughly confused.

The place all of you stood suspended above smelled horrible, and looked worse. You were sure you looked right at home with your torn clothes and hair matted with blood. Casey didn't look that good either, but miraculously Irma didn't have a single scratch on her. The only sign she was even witnessing the same thing as you was the telltale quiver of fear in her eyes.

"Irma?" You questioned with a blink. "What are you doing here?"

"Remember how we went out for pizza?" She frowned.

You nodded.

"I got attacked by a giant rat thing after you left. I tried screaming, but no one was around to help."

You resisted the urge to wince at that last part. Yowch. That had totally been you guy's fault. It seemed like she knew it too. You'd have to take her out for a snack after this or something to make up for it.

"Hey, at least most of us are together now." You reasoned, looking over at Casey. "We can probably try to find a way ou—"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I've never seen the two of you before." Casey grumbled, his voice a much deeper and much faker octave. You looked over at him with a crazed look in your eyes, not up for games. He just stared right back at you, silently gesturing to himself, his mask, and then a confused Irma while you watched.

"Fine. Whatever. Just, fucking, whatever mystery man." You grabbed the cage bars and hit your head against them twice before stopping.

"That won't work." Irma motioned to your head banging and did her signature move of pushing her glasses up. "I've been down here practically all day. Nothing budges these cages."

At the mention of more cages, you looked past your own to the outside. Sure enough, dangling a good ten feet off the ground and even more away from you, hung other people in mesh boxes just as reinforced as yours. Some cried, while most just looked horrified. They all shared that one thing in common, and you were sure they wished they didn't.

"Welcome esteemed guests."

"Oh please don't tell me it's this guy." You frowned.

"There's no need to fear, I will not hurt you. That I promise." A chuckle rang darkly through the room— cavern? it felt more like a cavern —that you were being kept in. You didn't have to think hard to figure out who it belonged to. It already reaked with enoigh pretentiousness.

Sure enough, when the figure stepped out of hiding and into the light, you got a good look at what had been described to you back at the lair. Tall, covered in bandages, and sporting a horrible choice of a trench coat. You barely held yourself back from booing at him, figuring that it probably wasn't the best way to go undetected. Casey didn't seem to share your carefully thought out sentiment.

"Let us out of here you freak!" He said, still donning his modified voice as he shook the bars to the cage. You kicked him in the back of the knee. A universal sign recognized all over the world to shut the hell up.

"All in good time." The Rat King echoed back.

You groaned and massaged your temples. This was really going to give you another tension headache, wasn't it.

You were left wishing for some Tylenol as your captor dove into an explination, calmly explaining how he had come to capture you. Something about rats, mutagen, science, rats, rats, his intelligence, and more rats. Probably. You stopped listening half way through and started feeling around the cage for anything sharp.

Right as you thought your search would turn out to be fruitless, your hand brushed against the bulk of your waistline. Cool metal met your hand, and with a start, you realized that they hadn't taken your tazer.

They hadn't taken your tazer.

Wracking your mind all the way back to after Splinter freaked out, you remembered the turtles telling you something. About how the Rat King used to be normal, before a freak electrical fire left him blind. Only able to see through the eyes of rats.

Your hand tightened around the base of the tazer. The words electrical fire bounced around in your head.

If a shock got him into this, maybe a shock could get him out.

You paid no attention to Irma as she dropped to the floor in a fainting stupor. The adrenaline and lack of food getting to her probably. You only felt somewhat guilty for your flippant attitude toward her well being.

Tapping Casey on his shoulder, you held a finger up to your lips. Even with his mask on, you could feel the confusion coming off of him in waves as you gestured down to your pants.

"Uh. Dude, you know I sort of have a thing with Red right?" He laughed awkwardly, stepping away. You glared at him with the force of a thousand suns before lifting up your hoodie to reveal the head of your tazer. Pointing out at the Rat King, you watched as his eyes widened in realization.

"I know you have something similar in those goalie gloves of yours Casey." You murmered. "When its our turn for whatever he's planning, let the rats drag us. But when it comes time for him to touch us, zap him."

"You think that will work?" Casey shuddered. You could only imagine that he was thinking about being touched by those rats again. And voluntarily this time.

"It better. If not, it might buy us enough time for the others to get here." You cracked your knuckles nervously. The look that Casey gave you made you tilt your head.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just forget how scary you can get when you're not yelling at me." He rubbed the back of his neck. "The guys should really start letting you come on missions with us."

You snorted and went to say something else. Maybe that he was crazy, or that you didn't quite hate the sound of that. Whatever it was going to be, you were cut off by the clashing of metal against metal.

The door to your cage swung open, and a furry paw grabbed you by the face. Struggling to breathe through the must of rat droppings coming from the living restraint around your face, you weren't aware that you were being lifted off the ground and dragged in the nearest direction of the Rat Kings makeshift lab. Somewhere in the shadows, five sets of hidden eyes widened. The other pair began to turn red.

"Here we have our first volunteer for the serum." The point of a needle came into view as the giant mutated rat dropped you. Brown fur stick to the inside of your mouth as you sputtered like a fish out of water.

Many cries for you to watch out came from the surrounding cages, New Yorkers feeling powerless while watching a teenager get stalked by a needle.

You grasped blindly at your waist. For a horrific split second, you could smell the sourness of his breath as he approached you. And then you felt your fingers close down around plastic.

Flipping the switch on your tazer, you sat up and poked him in the eyes with two fingers. Predictably, it did nothing but make him grunt in annoyance. But it was to his detriment. The action gave you enough time to scramble up and point the tazer at his face, rushing forward and sticking it right between his forhead.

"Suck my dick." You said heavily. Not exactly action hero movie material, but there would be plenty of time to worry about it later.

Blue light lit up his head and upper torso in a painful sparkle. Rats from all around screamed and squealed as their master fell to his knees, clawing at his face. Somewhere inbetween all the tiny cries, you thought you heard a much larger one and then a scuffle.

Your chest heaved as you turned on your heel to climb back up over the cage you had just been sitting in. An enraged cry followed your movements, and you were sure thousands of rats were now surging in your direction. Your only hope was that the zap had slowed all of them down, not just the Rat King.

You began to shimmy up the rope keeping Casey and Irma from falling. Old cuts from tumbling on the street earlier opened back up, staining the rope and ends of your sleeves.

Somewhere in the amount of time it took for you to get to the top of the rope, a fight had broken out underneath you. A part of your mind hoped it was Casey holding his own, and the other part really hoped it wasn't. You weren't sure how long his hockey sticks would hold under a tidal wave of sharp teeth and wormy tails.

Sparing a look down, your eyes were assaulted with flashes of green and silver. Surprise over took your features as you watched the guys emerge from the shadows, weapons batting away any adversary that dare to attack.

And was that—?

"Master Splinter?" You choked, and slipped down the rope slightly before scaling back up.

The sensei, sure enough, was in the midst of all the seperate battles. He appeared to battling with himself, clutching the sides of his head as he stumbled around.

A loud call of your name tore your gaze away from him, coming to settle on a struggling Mikey. He was balancing his nunchucks in one hand, and a blob of pink white and brown in the other.

"Mikey!" You yelled back, still hanging on to avoid the swarm of rats approaching. "Is that the cat I gave you? What the hell is going on!"

"We were coming to save you—" He stopped talking as he dodged another wave of rats before popping back up. "—and then sensei just went crazy! He's chasing after the Rat King now!"

You noticed that Mikey purposefully didn't answer your question about the cat, instead just smiling innocently. Filing it away for later, you continued to make frantic conversation.

"Is there anything I can do!?"

"Help get everyone out of these cages! We can't let any of the civilians see us!" Leonardo butted in from somewhere. You couldn't see him, but it sounded like he was wrestling with something. Nonetheless, you nodded, and positioned yourself in preperation to jump off the rope.

It worked. With dificulty, you managed to land on the top of another cage near to Casey and Irma's. It teetered dangerously in the air, and you swung your hands in a windmill like fashion to avoid falling off.

Grabbing at a lone rat that ran over your foot, you held it to the base of the rope. It squirmed in your clutch angrily before latching onto the fibers and chewing. It didn't take long before breaking through it, and you barely managed to grab onto the end of the rope as it seperated itself from the cage.

The cage fell to the ground in a heap. Smiling, you watched the doors lock break on impact and it's captors rush out. They looked back up at you for a second, and you gestured at them to go.

"Help the others if you can!" Was all you had time to say before jumping to another cage.

Rope after rope snapped under your efforts, and cages fell from the sky like rain from heavy clouds. By the time you had reached the last one, you hadn't even noticed that the fighting below had stopped. Now all of the people had fled, and giant rats lay defeated all over the ground.

You dropped from the last rope, chucking the rat you had been using as a makeshift saw into the distance, sincerely hoping that the stupid Rat King felt that.

"I think that's the last of them." Raph spoke. You saw him and his brothers perched on a ledge above you, and waved. Mikey was the only one to wave back, and what you now knew as his cat from earlier copied the movement.

"What about Master Splinter?" Leo worried.

"He can hold his own." You piped up, bringing the rest of their attention down to you. "And I'm pretty sure he's already won. I don't see any more rats scurrying around after all. Either the mental link has been broken, or your dad beat the Rat King."

The boys seemed to consider your words. Leaping down next to you, they all watched as Donatello placed a hand on your head briefly.

"You did a good job helping today." He grinned good naturedly at you as you swiped at his hands, trying desperately to fix your hair. His smile only grew as you stuck your tounge out at him.

"Whatever. Can we leave now? I'm about done with search and rescue missions for today."

Murmurs of agreement rang out, and you all started towards the exit and back to the lair. All you could think about as the turtles bragged on each other about their performance was a nice long nap. Preferably on their couch. Their nice, soft couch.

Master Splinter returned late into the night. His robe was dirty, and paws aching. But his heart lightened at the sight before him; all of his sons curled up in a deep sleep as you yourself snored on the living room floor. April and Casey weren't far off, slumped over in a sitting position as they slept.

Grabbing the remote from Leonardo's limp hand, he turned the TV's volume down. A quiet snort came from you, and Splinter watched as you reached out to grab at something. A soft smile spread agross his face as you latched onto the nearest thing, which just so happened to be Donnie's leg, and began to lean into it.

"Rest well my children." He surveyed you all, eyes shining. "You have done well today."

The door to his dojo swung shut without a sound, and Splinter fell into a deep slumber of his own.

[beecanons]

better yet Loki or Bucky (marvel) with autism reader :3333

loki and bucky with an autistic reader!

loki~

doesnt fully understand it at first but once you explain a little about neurodivergences he catches on and will probably make a comparison to something from asgard

does all the research on it, learns what midgard knows about this and gets frustrated with the history of mistreatment and such.

has no shame in admitting he's learning about it just for you. but will ask you dont go around telling people about this side of him, especially dont mention it to thor or he'll never hear the end of it.

very observant of your behaviours, stims, sensitivities and preferences.

"dont pick that one, love, it has a texture you dislike" "..i warned you"

he will do whatever he can to help you with a meltdown, he has outlets for his own anger so hes more than ready to help you find outlets to avoid hurting yourself.

you spend hours talking, especially about interests. he's happy to have someone to talk with and listen to him and is more than happy to listen to you rant and ramble about your special interests

will summon a stim or texture object for you to fidget with if you need.

need to sit in a quiet place and de-stim? he'll find a dimly lt corner and sit with you, maybe read to you if you'd like.

extremely respectful of boundaries, listens when you struggle and does what he can to help be it communication or otherwise

pays attention to your ques when you need or cant stand physical touch.

if anything makes you insecure he'll compliment you on it or avoid comments on it if you prefer.

Bucky~

a little slow with wrapping his head around it, came from a time where there was a lot of stigma around high support needs autistic folk so he might have some things to unlearn and a lot of new stuff to learn.

tries his best to memorise your sensitivities and preferences but will mix a few things up.

off handedly remembers a lot of details you dont expect him to catch onto, especially when it comes to how you communicate.

will come up with nicknames based on comparing your behaviours he finds cute with certain animals who have the same behaviours.

if you like organizing things hes a mess and never remembers where you put things and has to ask every time because hes used to chaotic order.

picks up on your stims and even starts doing a few himself without realizing.

"hey, fruit bat, where'd the keys go?" "...obviously by the door, right"

loves going to the movies with you but makes sure you get a good seat in the back not too close to the speakers or too close/far from the screen so you arent over stimulated.

stops wearing cologne because youre sensitive to scents and he doesnt want to give you a headache

need something cold/smooth to calm down/relax? you can hold onto his metal arm

isnt sure how to handle your meltdowns but does what he can to help you, breaths with you if you need it maybe even has you rest your head on his chest to help you calm down when its over.

[punkeropercyjackson]

@cassieopeiia said yes when i offered to repost my afro-dominican Jason Todd headcanons so they could finally have some accurate latino Jason content so here!!

Both sets of his grandparents were inmigrants who made sure to teach their kids their culture and Bruce,Talia and Alfred did research so he could still grow up in it after he was adopted so he's not disconnected from his culture like you'd expect

Is darkskinned with a big nose,full lips,green eyes and shoulder length black dreads with one of them being white from The Lazarus Pit.As Robin,he wore his hair short and natural(as in,his classic curls but even thicker)

Speaks spanish often enough that it's a consistent part of his speech patterns but dosen't have an accent since he's so good at both it and english

90s/2000s anime kid but specifically watched the episodes and read the mangas in latino spanish whenever he could(Definitely a merch collector too!!!Nothing weird though,i feel the need to say that,he just loves buying volumes and figures and replicas of weapons and plushies-The last one is a secret though)

Has his pre-reboot Robin characterization but got victim blamed and a bad rep anyway because of antiblackness and xenophobia

Bullying Tim for being a gringo is one of his favorote hobby's

Duke and him compare their similar yet different experiences with blackness and got along even quicker than canon thanks to it

Mentors Damian's team The All New Teen Titans and next to Damian,the member he's closest to is Nell

Takes great care of his hair and will sometimes wear red beads-He actually has a couple sets in different shades!!!

Says his favorite color is red because it represents blood on his country's flag and nobody can tell wether he's joking or not

Sometimes feels guilty for 'being a stereotype' due to the whole being born to poor parents who were also addicts and growing up to be a huge asshole with anger issues and a thirst for violence but rarely lets it get to him because he thinks he's the coolest mf to ever exist(but we all know he's actually a boyloser)

Aave user,with his favorite word from it being 'deadass'

And he makes the obvious 'Concha' jokes too for irony because he's demisexual and aceflux

Loves his country's cuisine-especially flan,it's tied with neapolitan as his favorite dessert!-but his favorite type of latino food is mexican!Tres leches cake and tacos and burritos and mexican hot chocolate and all that make his mouth water like Atlantis

Wears traditional festive clothes for special occasions and if he can't,he'll just refuse to go("I'm not going out in public in that!" "It's literally a tux???" "You call that a tux?It dosen't even have shoulder pads!Don't patronize me,Dickardo.")

Listens to bachata for nostalgia reasons and has some songs memorized but generally a female rappers/death metal bands/punk rock kinda guy

Black and latino memes connoiseur,both the classics and newer ones

Adores dominican folklore and uses it's horror mythos as inspo as Red Hood

Thinks 'showing affection means you aren't tough!' is gringo nonsense so he's pretty open about if he likes someone,be it platonic or romantic

Poc4Poc strictly and has a thing for black women

The only thing him and Kyle can agree on is that latinos are superior

Very autistic,with no masking game now or ever due to the norms he was raised in never giving him the chance to learn to.It got him bullied at school and things didn't get better into adulthood until we got to my Rhato rewrite and he got to make REAL friends i.e Reconnecting with Eddie and my self-insert Summer Kent(i got into DC through watching Utrh and starting to selfship with him),Robin-ing up Duke and vice versa and meeting Rose,Artemis,Kyle,Thad and a bunch of ocs by @moonage-gaydream @theautisticcentre @refrigeratedboombursts @mayameanderings and @insomniac-jay

Punkero Gótico(Goth Punk)who's a straightedge as trauma coping,seeks out latino/black run thrift stores,goes to basement shows and charity events and protests when he has free time and usually just asks around for them so he can know,wears dominican themed corpse makeup and is an agender transmasc who describes his gender as 'Mostly nonbinary but being a guy makes things funny as hell and Not That Kinda Girl by Mcr describes me pretty well')

His love for classical literatiure ofc includes latino authors and he played JuegosJuegos.com tons as a kid

Calls Talia Mamí,Damian 'Duende',Duke 'El Real'(Real=Spanish for Royal but also means the same thing it does in english so it's basically him saying 'You're so fucking real' like the slang)and Summer 'Strawberry Pop'(Jason has a thing for pink-coded black women specifically m'kay?)

His favorite Marvel character and lucky for him his Marvel Variant too is Miles Morales.He thinks it's Hobie Browm though(PLEASE He's so obsessed with his non-existent coolness and relatedly Duke's actual DC Variant is Duke 'El Real' Thomas)

And his books Variant is Percy Jackson.The only real differences are 1.Percy is transfem instead of transmasc and 2.Jason's arc is about him being a self-made tragedy and highkey bad person who works his ass off to redeem himself and only works when he's not getting coddling and Percy's is about how she's never done anything wrong in her entire life yet gets treated like shit anyway and deserves to be treated kindly for once no matter how strong she is

My fancast for him is Aubrey Joseph.Everything i've watched of him-Acting AND as himself-is literally just irl Jason Todd.There's no better fancast for him out there,we've found Red Hood y'all

If you call him any version of 'Papí' and you're not Talia or one of his kids:'Lights Out Bitch!!!!'

Canon bonus':His birthday is on Dominican Restoration day,at my villa we sell mini packets of neapolitan cream with little spoons at our schools,his Lego movie is called 'Family Matters' which is the name of an iconic black sitcom and Leon from Pokemon's VA voiced him in the Wfa dub!!!

[liminsendhelp]

Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

Tags: slight description of reader (chubby, muscular, strong, denying gender as a concept), possibly slightly sociopathic/autistic reader, profanity, denial of authority, evil scientist on the way to becoming. Johns pov included tags and warns are the same as in the last post, srry, I don't have time to make it more civilized and readable. THEY FINALLY TOUCHED LADIES!!! Enjoy

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

The whole day has been going wrong. Right from the start.

You met at five in the morning, as arranged for the days you dig through the database. He was waiting for you in his office, fresh looking, only a little more closed off. You thought to write it off on the early hour. But it certainly wasn't a physical consequence of sleep deprivation.

Emotions, damn it.

John was furious. You didn't say anything to him about it. The normally scowling expression never left your face, the emotionless, chaotically appearing teasing only twice caused him to smirk. But you wanted to shake him, ask him what you'd done wrong. Why he's like this. All the time before working out you could feel that tension. A dark, thick lump of promised fear.

Swallowing your breakfast in almost two bites, you didn't consider your surroundings much. There was something strange in the air. The way the huge room was quiet, full of those normally chatty people. Even Soap only chuckled quietly. Before you left to print out the allowed information, you casually switched to reality, aware of the proximity of the nearby warmth. Your and Price's thighs had been touching all along.

What on the computer had only been a couple dozen pages, images, copies, notes, was turning into an endless mountain of real paper that you were typing in two goes. To keep your head on your shoulders, rather than being ripped off by a secretary who (temporarily, you swear) had a busy printer, you brought a whole stack of paper. You talked, you played spy, getting more and more information out of the little gossip girl. You ate lunch at her place, never letting yourself take more food from her than you could fit in half your palm. She called you a bird and you laughed in agreement, drinking her instant coffee to notfeed your hunger. Not the first time.

As you made your way to your office in the main building that evening, you didn't look round. Moving carefully, only forwards, trying not to drop a pile of printed documents. One of the soldiers held the door for you. Then another one, then again, then another one, but offered help, which you declined. You clenched your jaws. Too many interactions. Fuck away!

Your back was in a terrible state from overexertion you wouldn't let anyone know about, your mood at its very point from lack of sleep and the constant uncomfortable existence with stupid people in the same space. But you still stared sullenly at the dumbest soldier while you held a pile of papers with one hand and opened the office with a magnetic key with the other.

Finally sinking down behind your chair, preparing for another round of proofreading, searching for correlations and missing elements, you let yourself exhale. And think. It was Price, wasn't it? Yesterday, when you told him about the soldiers' behaviour and he reacted so calmly, you gaslight yourself, doing someone else's job. They not even called you a slut in your face and they're animals and you're not special and nothing terrible happened only name calling... And it was expected, wasn't it?

But no, Price clearly went to deal with it. As much as you disliked the whole hierarchy thing, it was hard not to want punishment for those who branded everyone names for one possession of a vagina. You prayed to all the gods that your expectations weren't just a rethinking of the situation into a more palatable direction.

Finally everything was falling into a cycle. You worked with the files already printed out, pulling everything together in an encompassing way for the mind, concentrating on behavioural changes. You stopped by your secretary's office before lunch, giving your energies to small-talk and charming smiles. Your sleep patterns corrected, you smoked less because you didn't have the time anymore. Completely absorbed in your work, focused on your real goal, you didn't notice anything anymore. And a couple of times in a fortnight… Ghost helped with hints.

Ask that soldier, help that soldier, turn round there, yeah, just stand there.

Always managed to pick up a piece of information, form an understanding. The victim was always visible, no matter how well disguised. You made friends with a couple of girls and boys from different departments and backgrounds. Different temperaments, different humour and looks, but you felt that note of vulnerable distrust every time you pushed a little harder on your leadership.

. . .

She had a gaze. Fucked up one.

His first almost-wife had looked at him like that, during their first fight. And the last, to be precise. Pupils small, long angry lashes, always frowning. Ooh, stern.

When she brushed off his question about her name, he wasn't offended in the least. Something familiar about her… there was, no doubt. A piece of a familiar pattern. Potential for a good soldier, human, that was it. There was no criticism or problem in this closed cocoon from which she'd burst into the thick of it. Dry research, ready-made theory. That was why she was so confident in her audacity. John might have wanted to break her, just out of spite. He didn't usually do that, but here the kitten was attacking adult predators, and seriously hoping to win. Thinking she couldn't be seen, sneaking around in the grass with her little paws.

But in a couple of hours of interaction, John saw. Noticed scars here and there, patches of faded fur, and the sharp grin of a smile. She looked like something he'd caught. In training, she'd held up well. A mission, a fulfilment. A soldier with no command.

He could help. Help himself find a therapist.

Sighing once again for the evening, he adjusted his reading glasses. Whiskey in one hand, a small collection of short stories in the other. John read the one book he'd managed to "accidentally" grab from her desk.

Ray bradbury. Lots of circled passages, comments and jokes.

...You're the crowd that's always in the way, using up good air that a dying man's lungs are in need of, using up space he should be using to lie in, alone. Tramping on people to make sure they die, that's you...

In pencil frame and a little note, "should I call a lawyer?"

Other. With some pencil dots and lines on the pages, as if she wanted to but didn't dare leave any words out.

The scythe that gives power....

A family stuck between life and death because the father of the family didn't go to chop the ripe in the field....

A character who sleeplessly accepts his burden.....

...He didn't say good-by to his family. He turned with a slow-feeding anger, found the scythe and walked rapidly, then he began to trot, then he ran with long jolting strides into the field, raving, feeling the hunger in his arms...

The farmer in the field is too busy, even after all these years; too busy slashing and chopping the green wheat instead of the ripe...moves on with his scythe, with the light of blind suns and a look of white fire in his never-sleeping eyes, on and on and on...

He flipped back the page. Where there was only one word, exactly halfway down the circled lines.

...You worked the field all your life because you had to, and one day you came across your own life growin' there. You knew it was yours. You cut it. And you went home, put on your grave clothes, and your heart gave out and you died...

You?

John memorised the page number and put the book back in his desk drawer.

Fuck.

Why couldn't she read something nicer. A children's Bible? No, that was worse. More sins, more circled words. More similarities. And yet, he wanted to finish, wanted to reread everything that had ever graced her attention.

But only those living books that had been marked by her pencil and pen and word. To piece together this puzzle, frank and unmarred by a thick layer of wariness. To let it pass through him, to run his fingers over the traces scattered on the pages. To look in the mirror and see himself years ago. As if everything she'd accused herself of would find the same facet in him.

FUCK.

Angrily setting the empty whiskey glass aside, John walked out and down the stairs.

They'd grown closer over the past fortnight. As close as you could get with a set of human functions. She hadn't relaxed. Not for a second in his presence, not even in the presence of Ghost, who, surprisingly, had become a calming factor for her.

Something was happening. Some weightless bridge of communication. Invisible and solid.

Like when Ghost looked at her, shifted his gaze to someone else for a second and five minutes later she was there.

Like when she didn't turn up for training, showing drafts of already existing research to her Institute's committee. The discussions dragged on, she didn't show up for breakfast, and Ghost looked more sombre than usual.

Just like when she had appeared at lunch that afternoon, angry and barbed. "Those decrepit nerdy fucks have had me since six in the morning." She growls, and Ghost mutters something back about how quickly she's managed to outbite everyone. And the meat is clearly tastier than usual today. And Ghost knows now that scientists are much nicer than recruits. And she grins, just slightly, still wicked.

"You just haven't tasted the babies yet."

And Soap chokes on his tea, Gaz laughs, Ghost looks at her before letting out a deep chuckle. One ha. Not even a ha-ha, but it's something.

And John watches, observes. Marks the lines of communication and the nodes that form new offshoots

John wasn't jealous, there was nothing to be jealous of. Her attention was so entirely on him that she didn't have time to notice the water column diverging in front of her step by step.

It had been two weeks since John had the guys from the newbie group on the playground.

A day's training.

Just what the new recruits dreaded. Not a second of stopping, no food, limited water, total silence. The "24 hours" ended when the fighters started to fall. Sometimes the whole thing lasted for days.

In John's memory, the longest twenty-four hours was a week and a half when someone in his unit made a joke about raping the children of those Nazis who were fighting against them. He was a soldier then, green and unwanted by the leadership.

And the commanders were active and angry.

Steam was blown off on them until the rat came out himself, publicly shamed.

He was dismissed the same day, so that the soldiers did not have time to strangle him for a fortnight of suffering.

It was really horrible. But effective. None of them ever spoke again, even if they didn't want to.

Ghost had already organised something similar on the recruits last year, but they hadn't been smart enough.

John was happy to teach the soldiers to keep quiet. Reputation meant a lot to an organisation. Discipline wasn't just the ability to obey. And, no matter how much she said otherwise, John knew she would have wanted that kind of retribution.

She would find it fair.

The trainers change every three hours, the soldiers are the same. The spaciousness of the gym, the silence and the thick smell of sweat. Eighteen hours of slaughter meat.

The end of the "day."

But. Someone turned out to be more talkative than the others. As the columns of soldiers left the hall, the two idiots whispered something about an old man chasing a dirty cunt and were forced to stay for another two hours. One on one with John.

"You're going to fall and get out of here in a second." "You'll stop and we would start again."

He had no rest that night. After the individual lecture on what respect was, after the picture of tear-wet youthful faces begging forgiveness not from pain but from the realisation of their own failure, he couldn't shake off the rage completely. She had certainly sensed it from the morning, had been over-cautious in her rudeness. But she said nothing, and he began to breathe easier.

John lit a cigarette, there was no energy for cigars. The soldiers on night shift were still avoiding him, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Good for them. Opposite him, smoking dramatically in the shadows of the night, was the wall of the annex occupied by the scientists. The light in her window is on again. The way it had been for two months since her arrival, but had stopped after their meeting. And he thought he'd helped her sleep regime. As if to echo his thoughts, the light goes out, and five minutes later she appears. Sleepy, dark against her white dressing gown, glowing in the light of the night lanterns.

In the silence he can distinctly hear the desperate clicks of the lighter failing to give fire and a quiet "fucking hell" from her harsh mouth. He stands so that the light of the cigarette doesn't show from the shadows. Observes. Her stomping in one place is depressing. Such an open area, only a wall with one door behind, a long run to the corners, direct light. No cover. No hiding.

They were so close, John didn't need to calculate the trajectory he could take to blast her head off with his sniper. But he's unable to realise in time that he's spotted. The dusk makes it impossible to make out all the features of her face, but the swift way she was walking towards him spoke volumes. When John pulls out his lighter, flicking the wheel, emitting only a spark, not a flame, she snorts and slaps his arm. Why?

Her face is close, cigarettes touching at the tips as she holds their cigarettes in her hands to gently light her own. Her careful fingers close to his lips and he inhales the smell of ink and coffee with the smoke.

When her shoulder lightly touches his, her head rests on the hardness of the wall, and the smoke fills her lungs, John notices a certain insufficiency. Unmasked, even more open than usual. But quiet. So not trusting, just tired. That's what makes her stand so close. Obviously nothing more.

"I'm going to rest my head on your shoulder, and then you can pretend I didn't do it." "You're not afraid of groupies anymore?" Why say that? Why? Why? WHY?! Idiot.

She hums and takes a puff, releasing a thin stream of smoke into the night air. "Since you scared them all away?"

So they stand and smoke, sharing little warmth at the thin edges of contact. Her hand presses against his, John noting every muscle movement as she brings the cigarette to her lips and back again.

In the morning, as promised, he pretends nothing happened.

And the soldiers pretend they are numb, blind, and not watching their pair that night.

[jovial-thunder]

Just watched ep 3 of Dead End and it sent me BAWLING. The (autistic) main character has so much fear of navigating a normal team building beach day that it literally explodes a fear-eating demon.

I feel like that all the time, there is so much fear held inside this body. I've never heard it talked about like this — usually people just talk about being "overstimulated" but that's only usually the breaking point that they notice.

(Reflections/ramblings on this below the fold)

So much of my life is carefully constructed to mask, manage, and avoid this fear and social anxiety.

I had breakdowns on public transit until I watched enough people to copy how they got on and off the bus.

I have trouble at new supermarkets until I learn the script at the checkout stand.

I've travelled an hour to parties, arrived, and left immediately once it became clear that the vibes were Unfamiliar.

I'm petrified of asking for help unless there are clear social expectations about it.

I'm currently traveling in Berlin alone and it's wild how impossible basic staying alive maintenance becomes when I don't have my routines and scripts. Even though most people here speak English, my monolingual ass canNOT work up the ability to like go to a grocery store with an hour of research and planning beforehand, much less a cafe or any of the activities you're "supposed" to do while on vacation.

I've had friends who have, I feel, judged me for this: "olive, you're letting your fear hold you back." — you don't know the half of it!! I am very powerful for having gotten as much done as I have with this as a constant concern!!!

It's like telling a depressed person to just cheer up. This is just a fact of who I am. I can do the comfort-zone pushing thing to build out tolerance and skills, but the fear is always there, and it's harder for me than it is for you, neurotypical person!

I wish I had a map of my fear. It's not always the shape you'd expect of what social anxiety looks like. Making a Kickstarter video? It's work, but not the Fear, I can do it. Public speaking can be nervous but I usually know what I'm talking about, not a problem.

Asking a question to a panel? Needing to cold-introduce myself to someone at a meet-n-greet? Impossible.

Anyway it was a huge surprise to see this represented in a cartoon I haven't seen anyone talking about. Watch even the first few episodes of Dead End. It's on Netflix and rules.

[daisyblinder]

Could I get the peaky boys with a s/o who is autistic please

Thank you for the request! I'm sorry if I got something wrong, darling 🧡

Peaky boys with an s/o who's on the spectrum

🦋Arthur

🦋 Arthur can have similar tendencies to people who are on the spectrum which helps you feel a lot more comfortable around him 

🦋 When you two meet, the two of you find your own language right away

🦋 Your conversations can be fast paced, frighteningly blunt and loud. If your mind wanders mid conversation, you can just go with it. If you have questions you'd usually be afraid you ask, you can just ask them and get an actual answer

🦋 You don't need to hesitate with each other, and with him you don't feel like communicating is as difficult as with others

🦋 You often end up either switching topics so fast no one else can keep up, or then you talk hours and hours about the same topic

🦋 You two secretly love the fact that people can't always keep up with your conversations. It makes what the two of you feel more special; like you two were made for each other

🦋 You two are each other's home. When everything starts to feel overwhelming and you are uncertain of what you are actually feeling, Arthur is there. He is there to ground you and soothe you.

🦋 And when Arthur's feelings boil, you are what keeps him calm

🦋 Talking with Arthur helps you get more vocal about what you are feeling, and lessen your need to mask yourself

🦋 Similarly Arthur gets more comfortable with talking about his emotions and learns how to express them better because he knows he can be bare with you

🦋 One thing that really stokes Arthur's anger is the fact that you need to mask in certain situations

🦋 He wants you to be able to cherish yourself and be you, let the world see how precious you are

🦋 Fuck society, it had made him feel like an outsider so many times, so many times he had felt less than, and he had had to accept it

🦋 But he would not accept you feeling less than. He wanted you to see what he saw when he looked at you: "his precious angel"

🦋 Arthur is very protective of you. If someone makes fun of something going over your head, or if someone mocks you for having a special interest; they will be pulled by their hair to a gutter to see where they end up if they look at you the wrong way

🦋 He is very supportive of you and will always be by you in social situations, helping you with anxiety and certain cues that go over your head

🦋 More often than not, he uses his loud booming voice to direct the attention to himself to take it away from you

🦋 If you like being kissed, expect a lot of them because he can't stop smooching you, you are so precious to him

🦚Thomas

🦚 You brighten Tommy's days more than anyone

🦚 Tommy is used to having to try and pick apart everyone who comes to his life, used to being lied to and having someone try to lick his boots

🦚 But with you he doesn't have to try and pick you apart; he couldn't and neither does need to. You are so genuine and that's what makes him so mesmerized by you

🦚 He loves it when you ask him questions, no matter how trivial someone would say the questions are, he finds it beautiful that you wonder so much

🦚 Tommy is more easily caught off guard when you suddenly switch topics mid conversation but as your relationship goes, you have learned that it's not a bad thing, but actually in truth: Tommy's surprised faces are hilarious

🦚 They can make you stop talking all together and just give him kisses because you find him so cute

🦚 When it comes to social situations; Tommy talks you through them. He will tell you about people you are meeting, about what you'll be doing, and how everything will go

🦚 Anything you want to know, he will tell you before putting you in the spot. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible

🦚 He also studies you to learn all the possible signs of you starting to feel agitated or uncomfortable

🦚 Tommy asks you to teach him on what things he can do to help to soothe you and what things he should absolutely never do

🦚 If you have a hard time telling him or you yourself are not absolutely sure; the two of you try different things and see what makes you feel safe and happy

🦚 Sometimes before you go to sleep Tommy will explain to you certain sayings, signs and cues or underlying messages to help you feel more at ease. If it takes time for you to learn what he is saying, he will be patient.

🦚 He tries his best to make sure that you don't have to end up facing drastic changes in your life due to his lifestyle

🦚 He wants to provide you with a stable routine that will make you feel safe about being by his side

💋 John

💋 When it comes to flirting, you rarely pick up on it

💋 And John tries to approach you by flirting with you

💋 He thinks you are trying let him down nicely. You are always kind to him but you never answer his approaches and sometimes when he makes a "good" pick-up line, you just stare at him and wait for him to continue

💋 When he stops trying to flirt with you, he doesn't come to talk to you as often, since he is lightly embarrassed

💋 It breaks your heart that you don't see him as often, and first thing that comes to mind is that you think he now thinks you are a "freak"

💋 So you go to him and ask him does he think that

💋 "Bloody hell, no! Why the hell do you even ask that?"

💋 "Why did you stop talking to me?"

💋 You have a hard time expressing your feelings in the moment, the heartbreak feeling too overwhelming to explain

💋 But when John confesses how he actually feels, you get even more confused and slightly angry

💋 "Why couldn't you just tell me?"

💋 From that moment on John let's go of the subtle cues

💋 He embraces what he can do best: Being direct. He notices how much easier it makes your relationship

💋 He also slowly learns to not read into or get offended by you seeming passive, though it can still sometimes frustrate him

💋 This man is also very protective. You shouldn't have to face the judgement and mockery of people who don't have the capacity to see anything else being good in this life apart from their own preferences

💋 So he has made enough creative threats to form a short-story

💋 If you have a special interest, John loves nothing more than falling asleep to you rambling. It reminds him of all that' s genuinely good and sweet in the world

💋 Before he introduces you to the whole family, he makes sure you meet each one of them individually so the whole bunch won't feel as overwhelming and possibly agitating

💋 He starts with Arthur because he knows Arthur is not going to judge you if you have difficulties sustaining conversation or if you wish to rely on John to speak for you.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Uh uh uh can i pls get a headcanon style post of finn dealing with his s/o's bipolar or borderline personality disorder? I was really touched by how u did ur autistic s/o kol post and it made me so happy and i feel like ud do other disorders/not "normal" things well bc ppl hardly do things out of the norm for x readers lol. But if its too hard im fine with just finn x autistic!reader djdjjdndnd its ok if u dont vibe with the req u dont have to do im happy with ur usual posts! Thank you!!!! 💚💚💚

Infinitely Ordinary

Finn Mikaelson x BPD!reader Headcanons || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Please listen to Infinitely Ordinary by the Wrecks while you read this. You won't regret it.

Let's get one thing straight, right off the bat.

You're not an attention-seeker. 

It's not that you crave validation or anything, it's just that people have so many expectations of how you should behave. Is it really that big of a crime for you to wish you were a little less bland?

Seriously, you live in a town populated by vampires, doppelgangers, hunters, witches, werewolves, and hybrids. And sure, you're not actually involved with any of that - which is great because you like being alive, actually - but it's just that…

Well, this is your life… and you feel like a side character.

When you were little, you never had a lot - never felt like you did anything exciting -  so you made up a lot of stories. 

You got really, really good at it. Yet, you stopped once you grew up a little bit and realized that everyone is actually pretty ordinary and you don't always have to stand out in order to be seen. You stopped because life was normal.

Until it wasn't.

As things got crazier in Mystic Falls, you started telling stories again. 

You made things up. You lied.  

You did it a lot.

Now, it was never anything bad - never anything harmful. You just wanted to be better. You didn't want to be slow, didn't want to be boring, didn't want to be left behind. You didn't want to be annoying or any inconvenience to… well to anyone.

So you just lied.

And, slowly, quietly, without you even really noticing - things got out of hand.

You didn't just tell lies. You started living them.

You said you liked things and people that you didn't. (You went out drinking with Damon Salvatore, who you absolutely despised, and he would always order you bourbon because you'd said that was your favorite too even though you would honestly rather just have a Coke.) 

You told people that you'd been to places and cities you'd never so much as thought about visiting. (Then you spent hours researching literally everything you could possibly learn about those places in case someone asked you about them. You had to maintain the lie.)

You made up an entire personality - several of them. You became someone you simply weren't.

You went places you didn't want to go. Like the Mikaelson Ball for example.

That was where you met him. 

It was so odd because he noticed you and you weren’t even doing anything. You were just standing at the bar, frowning into the drink Damon had ordered for you. 

“Are the drinks not to your liking?” He just wandered up to you and asked. 

Turns out, that one question was all you needed to break. You started panicking in the middle of the foyer. There were too many people around and too many people you needed to be all at the same time.

You didn’t even know his name but he took you out to the gardens of that mansion and you probably scared him out of his wits when you started screaming. You just had to get it out. Luckily, the Mikaelson’s had soundproof walls.

He just sat next to you with a hand on your shoulder until you finished screaming. 

“Can I tell you something?” You’d asked. “You can’t tell anyone else.”

He just shrugged. “I have no one to tell.”

You ended up spilling the whole bloody story - all the lies you’d ever told and how sick you were of keeping up with them. You told him how trying to keep track of what lies you’d told to who was like riding on a carousel that never stopped spinning. You told him how empty you felt all the time. You told him how you felt like you were slowly going insane.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

And somehow, he’d said exactly what you needed to hear.  

“I don’t think who or what you are is important so much. It's what you do that matters.”

“And what should I do?” 

“Perhaps… tell the lies that make you happy. Then go from there.” 

“Is that what you do?”

He smiled. “Most days.”

Then you went home and that was that. Or so you thought. 

You started seeing him around more often. Every time you saw him, you remembered what he’d said. His words, it turned out, made you rather happy and the changes from there came slowly. You stopped hanging out with people you hated. Stopped accepting things you didn’t want.

You asked him on a date before you asked him his name. The two of you went mini-golfing and it was spectacularly ordinary. 

The two of you go on a lot of walks. They help you clear your head. It gets noisy in there sometimes. Luckily, Finn is a great listener.

You didn’t really stop lying exactly, but you started telling more truths and that was significant you thought. 

His siblings make fun of both of you for being boring. He reassures you that's better than destroying yourself trying to be something you're not.

You didn’t really realize that your mood swings were actually mood swings until you met Kol. The two of you react to each other like thermite reacts to ice. That is to say - you can’t be in the same room for any amount of time without trying to tear one another’s throats out.

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!!!”

You would deck that kid if not for Finn. He had to pull you out of the room. He looked very concerned. Which was nice but you couldn’t understand why.

“Do you need to go somewhere to calm down?”

“Why? I’m not actually mad. He was just talking too much.”

It was Finn who suggested you go talk to someone. That was when you were diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Yet, he never judged you for it. 

Provided you stayed away from Kol, your mood swings typically remain confined to less violent emotions. You get really excited over the smallest things and Finn thinks it is the purest thing he’s ever seen.

Both of you fear that the other is going to leave. In fact, when he told you what Esther was planning to do, you nearly lost your mind. 

After spacing out for three hours or so, you made it your mission to throttle that witch. You told her she couldn’t kill him - that you weren’t afraid to kill her again if she tried. And it was true. You really weren’t afraid to kill in order to keep Finn around. 

In hindsight, threatening the woman who created vampirism probably wasn’t a great idea. She threw you off the upstairs balcony. 

Unfortunately for her, Finn saw the whole thing. You were willing to fight for him, whether it be his siblings or his mother. 

He would return the favor. No matter the cost.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln@r13mar@rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99@railingsofsorrow@apolloroid@thatweirdoleigh@misswe03@eat-cake@felinegrate@cute-freak27@fayeatheart@archangelslollipop@aonungs-tsahik@sleepneverheardofher@heartbreakgrill@whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271@dreamingwithrafe@her-violent-delights@witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe@acixsracix@susannahmikaelson Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[sagesilentfire]

Autistic Toffee, thoughts?

I mean I did make this image:

But yeah, he's super fucking autistic. Like me. Canonically: (warning: references to self-harm and also oversharing my weird experiences as a chronic autism-haver)

Gets social skills enough to be manipulative about it and understand what people will do, does not get them enough to not creep out people who already are looking for an excuse to dislike him.

Like every behavior the creators gave him to make him creepy and evil just read as autistic person trying to mask to me.

Cold and emotionless? Bro has a flat affect and it just clashes with the overemotional rest of the show.

Low empathy? Autistic, and he does have his own kind of empathy, he just, like a lot of autistic people, expresses it weirdly. And seriously, the idea that a) Normative, neurotypical empathy is the only sign of good moral character and b) that Toffee lacks any version of empathy in general because he doesn't seem to care when unjust rulers or bootlicking toadies get their due, is really ableist and can go die now.

Monotone voice? Flat affect, and probably over-correcting on controlling his tone of voice too. Remember he's in Socialization Mode every time we see him, or Dealing With Mewmans Mode, which is even more tense. I bet he can and will emote via voice when alone or with people he trusts. Heck, he does it in Meteora's Lesson, when he's with the other septarians.

Ulterior motives? When you're autistic, you know that everyone has ulterior motives you can't hope to understand, including other autistic people. It's fine.

I actually headcanon he's repressed a lot of his sensory issues. I have a few that are really annoying, but I don't have another option if I want to appear in polite society and have to force myself to live with them even though they make me want to vomit, so I can see him actively choosing to repress emotional reactions to things. 

He gets overwhelmed more often than you'd expect. People just don't notice, because his reaction is always to freeze up and go silent – a shutdown, the "flight and/or freeze" part of the autistic experience. This is from my own personal experience: when overwhelmed I'm either yelling and angry (around people I know and trust enough to get mad at without them hurting me) or hiding and silently self-harming (around people I don't know or trust). (When I get overwhelmed in a place I feel comfortable but don't know anyone there, I tend to get weird in public looking for someone to feel less bad with. We don't talk about those times.)

I think he was close to a shutdown during Mewnipendence Day when he saw that stupid play Star put on.

Definitely doing a shutdown after he couldn't rescue Star. Probably exiting the scene as fast as possible to go pull out some scales (fun, risk-free self-harm! warning: only septarians can do this. you will bleed if you don't have a healing factor. be safe and maybe don't self--harm it's bad for you), grit his teeth, and go find a way to rescue Star. And also send an army to take over Butterfly Castle while the wand was out. Star would be alive to learn to live with not being a princess. 

Doesn't *always* know what to say. Can convince people to do things easily, but has no idea how to help other people with their emotions. His autistic ass could never be a therapist.

And then there's SAMATFOE Toffee, who has some extra Problems:

Sílthéy and Toffee work together to ensure that Toffee is as immune as possible to emotional leverage. Do anything to them, especially when they're in Business Mode, and Toffee will just sigh, shake their head, and refuse to take the bait. They may have PTSD and Autism, but have you considered: they also have severe emotional repression!

However, when they do crack, it's really bad, and potentially really dangerous. They still freeze and flee, but due to... circumstances, they could be as much of a magical superweapon as the wand, but in a completely uncontrollable way. Unlike the Butterflys, they do not make a habit of flirting with destroying the world, so instead they shove down their feelings and get their ass to therapy. 

And then when their therapist advocates for expressing their emotions healthily, they go get a new therapist, probably a cognitive behavioral therapist or something (I'm JOKING, CBT works for people who are not me! It's a perfectly fine method of brain-helping, it's just my default punching bag. I'm more of an Internal Family Systems guy myself). 

Rasticore is a big help. He helps them express medium amounts of emotion healthily and without having a complete (magi-nuclear) meltdown. They help him with his own meltdowns, because everyone is autistic in my world except for Mina. Rasticore finds their calm grounding. 

[katyspersonal]

If I had a nickel for every time a person that quite seriously helped with public slandering and humiliating me for fake ass reasons, supported drastically ableist stance on me and took the side of my stalker (that also I remind you bullied other fans for headcanons) then got upset and "insulted" at the fact that I vented about how much they hurt me and my friends, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but what the actual fuck.

Like... Maybe consider not spyoning on a blog of a person that "makes you uncomfy"? You will be happier if you don't check up on things and people you hate, seriously. And if you do, why you act so shocked that I express my pain and disapproval of your actions and mindset, the very same that hurt me and my friends? In fact, why DOES it hurt you to learn what I think and feel after your words and actions? Why do you CARE about feelings and opinion of a person you despise and disrespect so much that you deemed them worthy of all this, and even their friends deserve to be hurt by association? Like... NOW you consider my feelings? Of course I fucking disapprove of backstabbing me and my friends after over month of pretending to forgive me. Of course I fucking disapprove admission that you are willing to help slandering and humiliating a person that you were not even scared and hurt by. I wrongly assumed that if you hated me that much, I must have actually done something wrong, but now I know I still didn't because you admitted that you were willing to harm someone and even shun their friends without even as much as hard feelings, because they are a "heretic"?

Is what hurts that I had very high opinion on you and then flipped on a dime when something drastic came out? But isn't it the same way for you? Didn't you both like my blog and thought I was cool and then one day it was over? I think it is safe to assume that unfortunately it can work like that. And everything can be fixed and worked into neutrality and 'cold peace' coexistence, but you don't want that. You'd rather keep getting upset and self-isolate from everyone that likes my company, or isolate them from me, so this hole just keeps growing and growing and all good things that could have been keep falling into it. Or you really expect me to leave just because of all this? When I was a kid and a teen and a bit of a young adult, I've dealed with bullying to the point of having literal stones thrown into me, and never once I avoided the places where it was happening. Because it made no logical sense that some jerks could decide who belongs or not belongs in a place that is for everyone. I tried to enjoy my time anyway. I was not, listening and enduring all that, but I tried. Sometimes I'd get really bad for me and I'd snap and fight back, and I remember they were scared when I did because anger of cornered rat is a terrifying thing you know? One time it got especially bad with one of them and I snatched the bat from her hands and smacked HER over the face, worse than she hurt me but I've had enough. Then finally adults bothered to get involved, and what I received from the bullies was "but why didn't she just leave this area? :(" Why the question is "why won't you go away?" instead of "why I feel entitled to bully out a person that didn't even do anything bad to me but just makes me uncomfy with not being like us?"

In the end, I walked a full circle. Some autists just have a power of bringing out the worst in people with how much they don't understand unspoken social cues, cultural rifts, even the language and semantics often times. I have a friend with similar problem, he had a bad luck of using combination of words that make people go blind from rage without meaning to, and you find out he actually made a perfect logical sense after talking to him for context and reasoning. I thought it was a curse, but it is a blessing. I decided I will never fix what is "wrong" with me, if it really helped to separate fakers from real ones in such a short time. Without it, I'd be friends with traitors, cowards, bullies, fools, conformists and stalkers. And the worst part, I would not ever learn it.

Yet again: you are NOT harmed by me venting in MY blog about how I was hurt by your words and actions. If you two were okay with slander and public humiliation of someone and their friends, sure you must be okay with someone venting about actual harm. Or else you have double standards. You are not supposed to care about what I think about you either, you are supposed to crawl into your Discord groups to share screenshots of my posts and mock me there for "being so butthurt" like your kind of people always does. And if you do not want me to hold grudges, you've had enough chances to neutralize me. I was not having you blocked for a good reason. But you chose to keep throwing stones. Too bad for you, I've been trained for this shit, when your spoiled soft asses cry harm and trauma over a single slightly negative experience. Heck, over even reading something you don't like!

Here is a thing: I do not namedrop you. I only namedropped two people when it was relevant, and only because they made themselves public first so I didn't "out" them. And if some people read "he reblogged posts bullying me 50 times too often and was too eager to hate on me, like to the point it was scary" and instantly think of you, then consider what reputation you have. Why? Why? Why you'd throw me (and. my. FRIENDS.) to the wolves and then get angry that I react? Tell me why! It is your problem that you are willing to harm people willy-nilly without considering their feelings or bothering to actually learn whether they deserve stalking and bullying and their friends getting collateral damage, and in the end you don't even have the honor to be genuinely mad and scared as your motivation for it. It is """not personal""". So getting unhealthy obsession with helping slandering me was "not personal"? So acting oh-so-supportive towards my friend who got to talk about her identity and then instantly dropping her upon learning she was interacting with me, after previously having been thankful to her for being one of the first to support YOU, was "not personal"? And the worst thing, I believe it. This is just your Tiktok generation of cruel, overly-judgemental people. You did not get to learn about real life and real relationship and real complexities, and you never will. And I was such a fool doubting myself thinking that you were scared of me.

So tell me why. Tell me why NOW you care what I think of you? Why you care that I vent in MY blog, without namedropping? Why you care what I say and feel if I am nothing but a name of "heretic" to block and pass along for you, a person you don't know and don't think has feelings and nuance worthy of considering before mistreating? Why do you CARE about my opinion? Is this because I effects your self-image? But I am just a stupid bigot in your eyes, so how can my opinion have any power or credibility for you? Are you scared that people will find out? But I do not namedrop! Are you upset that "I don't know you" to say such things? But you do not know ME, and yet that didn't stop you from accepting and helping to spread extremely hateful and uncharitable headcanons about my personality, beliefs and motives your friends crafted, so clearly you are okay with "saying things"? Why? TELL ME WHY! Tell me how it is supposed to hurt you, because it does NOT! The worst I can do is to yell at you and run away crying, and I didn't even do THAT!

Unless I just did, because yet again you decided to sneak around and check my blog. Dude, you hate acknowledging my existence to you point of abandoning mutuals that answer my asks, so why would you check my blog? Just don't do that? Just not check it? There were 4 coincidences about your art that made me think that you were snooping on my content, I am helpful with the lore I know, and took some stuff for inspiration, and one time was passively-aggressive about how I drew a certain female character. But I've got a relief that no, they were all coincidences, and you were not stalking me. So now I have to worry about it again? So I should give into my paranoia, because there was a reason in the end?

Just go away, okay? Just go away. The alter that grew from guilt and pain, and admiration, that you've triggered, is dead, anyhow. It was painful and felt like getting the whole entirety erased and written again, but it's done, so you don't have to worry about it either. Just not sneak on a person you dislike, because, again, me venting without namedropping won't effect you, nor you should care what "just another heretic" thinks. I am not a human for people like you, after all your drama-hungry kind does, and stop pretending that I am. My friends aren't either, they are just "traitors" that refuse to cooperate for your group, and I hate every single conformist bastard that blocked them by association. Not you, them. I won't have a gaslighting of "it is not us vs them!!!!" when actions speak louder than words, and all effected people know what they did.

So far I do not have an incentive to stop digging myself deeper into a hole of "wronged intellectual" self-image, which is a bold claim for someone with quite large intellectual disability as myself, I know. But none of this makes any sense, and doubting that maybe I just don't get something about people availed me nothing. I do get it, society IS just as bad as it seems, deny it or not.

[gold-rhine]

Love language post again but with the four Sumeru boys! :D

Alhaitham

Alhaitham is that one annoying "Well actually..." guy. His favorite book is Hegel's dialectics, which he's read in the original and wrote his akademiya thesis on, but if u just read that thesis you'd think he hates it bc he tears into mercilessly. but in fact thats how he shows respect, bc as per dialectics, its only possible to grow when confronted with the antithesis to your thesis, and producing synthesis based on that. his mirror theory is based on learning about yourself by being confronted by the opposite.

his love language is when you excitedly tell him of your plans instead of being excited with you to melticiously nitpick them for hours with -_- face, bc he thinks that the best way to help you is to show you all of the possible flaws and problems beforehand so you can fix them and succeed. he's also very particular on when to help you or not. like he won't help if he thinks you need to learn to overcome smth, bc again, he thinks you can only grow by challenging yourself, BUT he also doesn't believe that every challenge is worthwhile. so like he might refuse to help with something relatively easy, but another time he will just drop shitton of money out of nowhere without you asking or find the loophole in bureaucracy and so on, bc these are not the kind of challenges that will help your personal improvement, they are logistical hindrances.

as to how to best show you care for him, out of Sumeru Autism Trio, Alhaitham is like the only one who is not big on infodumping. he strikes me as a type who will just silently stew on his thoughts, spew out a book that shakes up that specific scientific field and immediately move on to another subject. but his character stories say he likes reading physical books instead of getting info directly from akasha bc he likes questioning and distilling views and biases of the author, so i think finding something with really new and surprising perspective that he's never considered before is one of the best things, be it a very smart academic study or bonkers crazy conspiracy theory doesn't matter, what matters is the uniqueness of the mirror that can be applied to the world.

another thing is that Alhaitham will just never conventionally show emotions. like he knows how to mask and play social roles if he needs to, but he doesn't enjoy it and it's useless to expect it from him. Alhaitham is actually one of genshin's least traumatized autistics, his grandma never forced him to pretend to be "normal". you just have to be okay that even he's most comfortable and happy, he still has the same resting bitch face on, and mb learn to tell the difference when it shifts into slightly more tense tired bitch face, when he just neds to go sit alone in a dark corner with headphones on for awhile and not take this personally. otherwise, Alhaitham is pretty transparent about he likes and doesn't like if he trusts you, like he *will* tell you straight up what he wants or if he's unhappy. his communication style is not for everyone, esp its hard for ppl who enjoy seeing partner express emotions visibly, but there's a different kind of intimacy in intense and raw-cut way if it clicks for you.

Tighnari

Tighnari is a mom friend and a harangued middle regional manager at the same time. he has like twenty different check lists active on the back of his mind at all times, half of these check lists are actually responsibility of other ppl, but Tighnari knows ppl are incompetent clowns and he has to double check that everything goes ok.

Tighnari's love language is that he will have an extensive check list for you to make sure you're taken care of. your love language for Tighnari is to make sure you take care of yourself, so he doesn't have to mom you in addition to moming all of the incomptetents in his life. he needs someone who can be trusted to be responsible about their own well-being, so Tighnari can relax as with an equal. if you cover all your fundamentals, then his check list can easy up to sweet little things which he likes fussing about.

and like Tighnari does like to fuss and organize things, just when the stakes are not high and its not a forced responsibility. you can ask him organize a trip or to choose the optimal restaurant and so on, and he will happily fuss and research and figure out logistics and enjoy it very much, despite grumbling all the time, just make sure to tell him he's done great job afterwards.

also, of course, he likes infodumping about his mushrooms and plants and complaining about idiot tourists and his idiot bosses, and also will happily listen to what you have on your mind in return.

Tighnari is overall a grumbly sweetheart who found his place in the world and is happy with it, and just wants someone to share this place with as with an equal, so he can relax and let go of the stress and exercise his fussing tendencies on nice enjoyable activities

Cyno

Cyno might at first glance seem to be from the same no visible emotions type as Alhaitham, but it's not really the case. Due to Akademiya's racism against desert people, Cyno had to learn to wear this resting stoic bitch face all the time, to don't answer provocations and don't show emotions to not be labeled as uncivilized, and he was scrutinized twice as hard as other students. He's the most traumatized out of Sumeru Autism Trio and it's now hard for him to show emotions and vulnerability after years of being trained not to.

he says himself that he knows his jokes are bad and he says them not bc he thinks they are funny, but bc he wants to break tension or break someone's impression of him as intimidating and unapproachable, bc like, Cyno is not great at socializing. that's his way of being like "Hey i'm not scary actually". so him clowning around ppl is his way of showing trust and invitation to engage, its basically like when large predators playfully roll on the ground and expose belly, its the vulnerability of being silly with someone. he'll be happy if you indulge him, and listen or participate with his silly hobbies like card games or roleplaying, a support of him trying to get out of the restricting role he was schooled into in akademiya.

Cyno is incredibly supportive himself, he might not be great at social cues or expressing himself, but he will show up for you 200% every time. he has actually a nice amount of emotional intelligence, even if he's clumsy in using it. he invented the card game excuse to look after collei bc she wants to feel independent and so he's pretending he is there on silly selfish pretense, bc thats more comfortable for her. Deep down, he's very sweet, loyal and steadfast, even if awkward and hyperfixated on his duty.

[sludgewolf]

👉👈 hey! Feel free to ignore if you arent up for it but do you think you wanna try doing some hcs for Dave strider with an autistic s/o? Especially one who has trouble understanding their own emotions (alexithymia), kinda takes things literally, and has a special interest in bugs (specifically ants and isopods) thank you so much in advance! ♡♡♡

No, I am writting this hc!! Just be aware that I have ADHD not autism, so pls tell me if I got anything wrong or you want smt fixed and I hc Dave being half japanese, Bro raising him with some of the culture as well as the Strider charm (I'm just saying this bc there's a small part that won't make sense without that info)

Disclaimer: do not copy, repost, take or feed to AI or NFTs anything I post

Masterlist

Dave x Autistic!Reader

Actually x btw

Dave used to just ignore his emotions so he never ended up learning how to deal or understand them until recently

so he understands you to some degree and helps you whenever you ask him to

and if you think you'd rather talk to someone else he takes you to Rose since she was the one to help him for the most part, the other part was Karkat but his though love approach isn't for everyone

Dave tones down on the sarcasm while talking to you, especially when not joking

Egbert now takes a double dose of the patented Strider Sarcasm™

poor idiot doesn't know what's coming their way

Still there's a learning curve for both of you

Dave doesn't do it on purpose, but sometimes forgets that you take things literally and he runs his mouth

going from tangent to tangent until things don't make sense anymore

at times starting to talk having no idea where he's taking things and discovering it only after he already said it

confusing you both and making you ask him if he's serious

to which he immediately cuts himself off and apologizes as if he just kicked a puppy

sometimes kneeling down to properly apologize is he takes things too far

If you have a collection of insects he is eager to see it

the first time you visited his room he immediately dragged you to his shelf to show you some sick bugs he has on amber or preserved in alcohol

Dave then listens attentively as you tell him about what kind of bug it is and what's their niche in the food chain

once you're done he tells you about how he found it behind the toiled after hearing Bro scream like a baby from getting spooked by it

If you have an ant farm or a bioactive enclosure with roly-polies and springtails Dave will practically beg you to let him feed them

just be careful since he will try to feed them pizza or some old candy he found in his pocket

and instead of water he'll give them apple juice thinking it's way better because he's watering and feeding them at the same time

You have to explain that that's the weirdest and stupidest idea you ever heard, but you sometimes let him put a drop of Aj in a bottle cap as a treat to your bugs

Congrats, you're the new target of his long and winded monologues

but you're more than expected to do it back to him

please tell him about deep sea isopods and the freak sizes they grow into, please tell him about the new hobby you've just started

Just talk to him

he craves your attention and company as much as he craves your touch, shit is unreal

[ravenwitch45]

How would Blitzo react if s/o who has auditory processing disorder as they have a hard time understanding speech every time they hear someone talk it sounds like gibberish to them along with difficulty answering questions? They are very good at parkour along with firearms and other weapons as they want to be an assassin. How would Moxxie and Milly react to this as well as they are s/o's friends? Would they be a liability if s/o went on missions with them?

https://m.youtube.com/shorts/0U0TpIdg538

Oh Okay, I'll try my best with this, keep in mind I don't have this disorder so If I get some things wrong I am very sorry. But hope you enjoy.

Blitzo with an S/O who has auditory processing disorder, but also wants to be an assassin and has the skills to boot.

Blitz while he is a little confused when you first explain it to him, he never get's frustrated with it, he learns pretty fast to slow down talking when your in the conversation, and to keep things short and to give you time to process what he says, when he's really excited he'll still mess up and ramble too quickly for you but he tries hard to manage that.

I'm personally am under the belief that Blitz is autistic (Just a headcanon but I'm putting it here) so he gets just not understanding stuff sometimes, even if it's a different way with you he get's the feeling.

He's very respectful about it, and if any bozo get's upset at you for taking too long to process what they said he'll come right to your defense, violently if he has too.

He's surprised when he sees your skills tho, not because he didn't suspect someone with your disorder to be skilled, just didn't expect you to be so skilled in general.

If you ask him if you can join his company, he'll probably try to refuse, not wanting you to get hurt, but pester him a little and he'll give way, partially cause he'd like to see you in action for real.

He'll still try to stick you with safer jobs if he can, and if you have to go on a dangerous one, he'll be with you, or send Moxxie or Millie with you to make sure your not alone.

Speaking of M&M, since there your friends, they both work to handle your disorder, but there both different with it. Millie is a lot like Blitz, very respectful, but her own excitement often gets the better of her and her speech get's too fast for you to understand, she feels really bad about it, and apoligizes profusely when she realizes though.

Moxxie is probably the best when it comes to working with your disorder, he rarely gets ahead of himself and is usually patient enough to wait for you to process stuff. Both Millie and Blitz pratically beg him to teach them how to do that always cause they both feel awful when crowding you with information when they ramble.

As for if you'd be liabilty, I don't think so, sure in the heat of the moment, waiting for you to process verbal stuff isn't really an option sometimes. But theres other ways to communicate that aren't auditory. If you understand sign language then they might learn a little to communicate quickly, or if not work in hand gestures they explain the meaning of beforehand, either way plenty of ways to work around a disorder like that even on the battle field I think.

Sure you may be a bit too long to understand normal sounds, but shenanigans like that would insue is pratically in I.M.P's job description so I think your good and overall it all turns out well enough.

Honestly at the end of the day, your just an Assassin, who's also dating their boss, and also happens to have Auditory Processing Disorder, doesn't make you lesser or any less impressive in any of their eyes.

Okay, I think that's the first time I've written S/O with a disorder, so I hope I did it justice, if I got stuff wrong, I am so sorry and will try to learn from it for next time. I hope you enjoyed it either way.

[rederiswrites]

The boy and I are currently watching Dead End--cute, fun cartoon set in a theme park that just happens to have an elevator that goes to other planes, including Heaven and Hell. Neither of which are what you'd expect. It's got a lot in common, feel-wise, with Owl House, between the wry humor and the way things shift between cute and horror in the same breath. The plot is enough to have me wondering what happens with ____ element during the day between watching more.

It also has a truly wondrous thing--a trans, gay main character. He's never misgendered, he never angsts over who he is, he has an adorable crush on a coworker (who reciprocates), but he does have a very real-feeling subplot where he's moved out of his parents' home because he's deeply hurt by their failure to stand up for him against his grandmother's anti-trans diatribes (which happen off-screen and are not described in any detail).

The other main character is a Pakistani-American girl who is pretty clearly coded autistic. Her struggles with a hyperfocus not turning out to be worthy of the time she gave it, as well as her job forcing her into social situations she finds intensely uncomfortable, are also integral to the plot.

Go watch it before someone cancels it. I only knew it existed because my son saw something on Youtube.

[sophiainspace]

Happy five years of fic posting to me! 🎉

No but seriously, where have five years gone? They've shot by in a flash.*

*That was a pun. Hope you're proud of me.

On 21st Dec, 2017, I posted The Centre Cannot Hold, a neurodivergent Ray Palmer fic. (After a conversation with @habibialkaysani when she encouraged me to write what I wanted to read. It's all her fault!)

So here's a self-made fic meme to celebrate...

Soph’s Fic Meme

My favourite of my fics is... the rarely-read ColdWave neighbourfic, Mending Wall. There's a cute kid, lots of feels, and far more rambly plot than I was expecting when I started.

My fluffiest fic is... maybe the ColdFlash coffee shop meet-cute Better Latte Than Never - but the sequels are an angst fest (sorry, @blueelvewithwings!). Or there's this coldwestallen ficlet about pillows. (Literally) as fluffy as I get. It will never happen again.

My funniest fic is... the Retired Rogues series. In which retirement is not going so well for our ColdWave, till Mick takes things into his own hands. (I can't do funny, so I'm quite proud of these. I'm also quite proud to have been accused of Problematic Fic, for Mick plotting behind his partner's back. Sure, that's the most problematic thing about... ColdWave. 😁)

My saddest fic is... Rebuild, from deep in the depths of my angst-writing days. But it was hard to choose, for there are too many.

A fic I almost didn't post is... The Way Out (Mick Rory and self harm - read the content warnings). Write what you need to write, kids, even if involves stigma or you get ableism for it. Someone will be glad you did. Someone might be you.

The fic I had most fun writing is... Stealing Time & Saving Time. In which Len can't deal with his new powers and the boys can't deal with each other... until Iris steps in and bashes their heads together. (Can't have ColdWestAllen without the traditional Iris head-bashing.)

My favourite ship to write is... ColdWave. Still. Always. Gehenna is the ColdWave headcanon that I will be still talking about in the nursing home when I'm 90. The nurses will ask, of the roguish criminals they think I might have made up, "Did you know them when you were young, love?" and I will smile and nod.

My favourite femslash ship to write is... NewsHacker. They are perfect. The Mystery was fun to write. Zamaya are another fave.

My favourite OT3 to write is... You're expecting ColdWestAllen, aren't you? And you'd be right. But I have a soft spot for Rogue Canary too.

My favourite non-romantic pairing to write is... Len and Lisa. Love a sibling relationship that complicated. Many headcanons.

My favourite character to write is... Mick Rory. Still. Always. (You can tell because I've written 45 fics with him in.) Here's one.

My favourite neurodiversity fic is... Runs in the Family, with ADHD speedsters. I loved writing my ND Legends fics (like Meds) too.

The fic I remember writing most clearly is... Words. Inspired by a prompt/thought from @stungunmilly2 about autistic Mick, who struggles with spoken words but can't stop writing them. And then I couldn't stop writing it for three days. Writer!Mick is a mood.

My favourite 'written out of spite' fic is... Still Queer (Captain Canary)

My most-read fic is Can't Take That Away From Me (ColdFlash). I'm pretty happy to see it in first position, on balance. It was fun to write. (And I'm really sorry about still leaving the sequel unfinished)

My least-read fic is (Getting Past the) Pride and Prejudice - pt 2 of a NewsHacker series that is admittedly not very good, but still - Iris/Zari, okay?

The WIP I most regret not finishing is... Take The Keys (And Drive Forever). Lisa Snart-centric, would have been KillerGold if I'd got far enough with the Caitlin part, and it was going to be spooky.

My favourite gen fic is... Remember. Zari Tomaz's last moments in the timeline.

My crackiest fic is... (Here's To The) Tears and Beers and Wasted Years. ColdWestAllenWave with comedy therapy and time travel and being trapped and phobias and evil doppelgangers and flashbacks and future kids and feels. You're welcome.

And finally... it's Winter Solstice. Have an (old) Christmas fic. It's a (mostly) cute folk tale AU. A Single Matchstick to Light a Fire.

Ask me a fic question! Or say something fic-related! If you want to!

And while I'm at it... I'm going to forget someone here (sorry) - @ing a few beta readers, writing partners, prompters and cheerleaders I'm grateful for - and a few writers whose wonderful fic has kept the muse alive. Tagging you to do the fic meme if you want to: @achangeinpriorities @blueelvewithwings @areyouscarletcold @habibialkaysani @purpleyin @joanthangroff @sproutwings @stungunmilly2 @nixie-deangel @dubiousculturalartifact @peppersandcats @jewishgarygreen @siricerasi @kleptoandpyro @tigstripe @stillnotginger10 @wonderingtheblue @stillthewordgirl @coldflasher @bold-sartorial-statement @callonielb @ginger-canary @kitkatt0430 @eaion @kattahj @robininthelabyrinth @rochc93 @unwittingcatalyst

I don’t know if I’ll write anything else for the fandom now, but you never know what 2023 might bring. But if not, then thanks for an awesome five years. It's been... Oh, think of a Flash pun. Pretend I made it.*

*This is a Buffy reference. You do not have to be proud of me.

I will leave you with my favourite inspirational quote from the Flash (CW TV series, 2014-2023):

"Rule number one of having a secret identity is not taking pictures of yourself in your super suit without a mask on."

- Barry Allen