#that when i first told them i was autistic and tried to lighten the mood

[butterfly-in-progress]

I was born with a mask

Or I might as well have been

I didn't even know what my own face looked like

As the years went on

I added to it

Layers upon layers caked onto my face

A protective shell

But you were by my side when there were cracks in it

You loved me when the mask was still new and didn't cover much

You were with me for so long, through so much

I thought

That after the long and arduous process

Of hammering at this ceramic

To chip away the layers

And let my face feel the sun

You would rejoice as I did at seeing my face

But instead I have to wonder if you ever loved me in the first place

And chip you off of my heart

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Guy With Autism Has Been Bothering Me Lately

I have autism, too. But, let me tell you, this is a unique case. I have done literally everything I possibly can to bluntly and verbally communicate to him my disinterest in going out with him. I rejected him because he asked me out the day we first met and he insisted he was over it. Not at all. I talked with the leaders of the Autism Support Group at my University and they said I should focus on only seeing him in group outings to drive home the idea that we were just “a group of friends hanging out”. I thought that made perfect sense.

At first it was fine, but then he started getting closer to me, and only going out of his way to acknowledge me. Then, he got really upset when in our party game (the question was to come up with a convincing self help book title that someone may be caught reading) I entered “12 Rules For Life” as my answer. Recently, I had been to the bookstore and that book was being displayed in the self help section. I figured it sounded convincing and didn’t even regard the author’s name at all.

But boy was this guy upset with me for mentioning a book by a “transphobic piece of shit”. He tried to challenge me about it in front of everyone and I said I chose the title because I saw it in the bookstore. Eventually everyone told him to get over himself, but he didn’t let it go. He would get close to me and still act all upset like he wanted me to notice him. I ignored him and tried to have fun with everyone else. When I left early to get away from his ass, he stopped me, crying and revealing to me he was nonbinary. I was understandably confused as all hell.

He had never corrected me about pronouns at all since the day we met which was a whole semester ago. In that time, he used he/him pronouns to refer to himself constantly, and everyone in the group including me just used he/him pronouns too because that’s what he called himself. When I expressed I had no idea, he admitted he never told anyone. He told me I made him feel unsafe and that I was a threat to him. When I asked why he hadn’t made this clear before, and emphasized that I am against violence against anyone based on their ideas and viewpoints, he was quiet.

I gave him a supportive friend hug which he stayed in for way too long, and left. The next time I saw him was at breakfast where he always hunts me down to sit with me. He said he was going to go on a long rant during the weekly check in, and I was like “cool man you do you.” He opened the door for me when he followed me out and said “after you sir”, so I tried to lighten the mood by jokingly asking if he was misgendering me. He scoffed, and said if anyone had the right to be upset about that it was him. When I get to the check in, my “difficult” thing that week was my grandfathers passing. Everyone was extremely sympathetic and understanding...except for him. He ranted to us about how some meme on fourchan made him physically angry.

He was working himself up and making remarks about how I wasn’t listening, so I looked at him and said, “Dude, seriously, my grandfathers dead, and I am the one telling you to calm down. It’s just a meme.” He spent the rest of the time I was there whispering next to me about the meme (which had something to do with WW1), and he finally stood over me and asked if I really cared about politics. The girls next to be (bless them) got up and said, “Stop harassing her.” That seemed to get the message across more than me ignoring him, probably because they used the word “harass”. He heard I had to go to an event and last minute invited himself to it. That was when I just left without saying goodbye to anyone.

He went to the event, which was about autism acceptance, so I was careful not to appear like I was possibly “bullying him” during that time. When I said I couldn’t make it to the next game night because of my grandfather’s funeral, he mentioned he wasn’t going to go anymore anyway after what happened. That he didn’t “feel safe after what I did” and blah blah blah. When I nodded and tried talking with the others about the upcoming event, he looked at me and said, “You do remember what happened don’t you?” I begrudgingly said yes and I admit was clearly very annoyed.

On the car ride there, the person who was driving us (not a part of the group) made a polite remark about how this guy in question was a smart man and would figure out how to adjust his seat if given a moment. He got enraged and lectured us about how he was “gender non conforming” (Is that the same as non-binary? I don’t even know anymore) and to call him “they/them”. One of the more socially oblivious members said that the word “they” referred to a group of people, which got him on another tirade. That’s when I finally turned around and practically glared at him, telling him to calm his ass down while emphasizing that he didn’t make this gender identity issue clear to anyone else until literally right now.

He followed me around the entire event, and one of the leaders of the group pulled me aside to tell me he would stop this guy if I said the word. Like I said, I didn’t want to be mean to another person with autism at an event promoting acceptance, so I tolerated him as much as I could. I purposefully sat in different spots to avoid him during breakfast, he found me every time. I just didn’t engage him. I let him ramble and made a joke now and then. I know I should’ve ignored him altogether but there was a reason why I didn’t.

I was and am still scared of how aggressive he is and how he has expressed his approval for engaging in physical violence against those who oppose his ideas. I was also worried he’d accuse me of being transphobic or bigoted because I wanted to establish clearer boundaries and avoid him for a little while. He had a meltdown when the leaders of the group talked to him, and the LGBT center even told him that he has no right to be offended by incorrect pronoun usage when he doesn’t notify people of his pronouns at all.

Next time I saw him, he found me at breakfast again and had died his hair green. Dude literally looked like broccoli. He was wearing all black with sunglasses and insisted on following me back to the dormitory. He turned to me as I was ignoring him halfway through the walk and asked if he looked like a jackass, it took all of my strength not to turn to him and say “Of course you do, look at yourself!”

I’m going to be moving back for summer and idk if he/they is/are going to be there. I am scared shitless that he might go off the deep end on me. The worst part is that I would be seen as a perpetrator in this situation as he would take the identity of an oppressed gender nonconformist autistic individual. I’ve been in multiple situations where I have been blamed/punished for defending myself by authorities and it had a profound impact on my ability to stand up for myself.

This idea of me being treated or labelled as if I am some kind of bigoted transphobe which would possibly prevent me from getting a job or friends is keeping me up at night.

If you read through all of this, bless your heart. I am not sure what I can do, but I really don’t want to return to University because I am scared of this guy. He may not be intentionally being manipulative, but I have been extremely uncomfortable with him. I am so worried the minute I put my foot down, he will do something violent and direct his emotional aggression towards me...I have no idea what to do.

[rorykillmore]

and now that i’m back from the movies and settled, this is a christmas present for @sonofkaden who requested something with ratchet and kara pertaining to ratchet having trouble with school bc of executive dysfunction/overstimulation and kara being able to relate and supporting him. even though i do also headcanon kara as autistic, i usually don’t examine stuff like this because i consider it a bit out of my Lane so... it means a lot that fate trusted me with it enough to request it specifically. i hope it was done well.

fate!!! i’ve been lucky enough to be your friend for quite awhile now, but i feel like this year particularly? we’ve managed to get even closer and it’s something that i’ve been really grateful for. your infectious kindness and passion is something i’ve always admired but you also have a way of making people feel really good about themselves and i just. want you to know how much i appreciate that, especially recently. i know your family’s taught you to doubt yourself but i don’t ever want there to be any doubt about how much of a positive impact you’ve had on my life. you deserve all the support and validation in the world so hopefully this fic is like... a nice way of obtaining a bit of that.

Ratchet isn’t just one of her best friends anymore -- she also has to act, in some capacities, as his guardian. It’s not a task she can solve with laser vision or superstrength.

There’s an undercurrent of relief in the air as Kara waits outside her car from where she’s parked in the designated drop-off/pick-up zone -- but that’s probably to be expected. Clairbourne just let out for the holidays, after all, and Kara can still remember the thrill of having a week and a half off school to look forward to.

Generally, Ratchet likes school. She knows that and has never wanted to discourage it -- but still, even he can stand to take a break every once in awhile. She can’t pretend she’s not looking forward to getting to spend a little more time with him, this year especially (since they’re still getting over spending so much time apart). She’s even thought about asking Ratchet and Sasuke if they want to take a little trip, maybe spend a few days at a cabin somewhere for New Years -- though she’s not sure how well Sasuke vacations.

Maybe Ratchet’ll feel like helping her strategize on the way home, she thinks, breaking into a familiar grin as she sees him approaching.

Her expression fades almost immediately, because it does’t take her long to figure out that something’s wrong.

Ratchet’s ears droop unhappily as he walks, and he can’t quite manage to smile back at her. The look on his face is one that Kara can’t quite immediately place, but she doesn’t need to be told that he’s not feeling well.

“Hey,” she greets him more softly than originally intended as he walks up to her. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah.” Ratchet pauses. Blinks. “Uh -- I mean, no. Can we just... ? I kinda wanna get out of here.” He glances back at the school over his shoulder and Kara frowns, trying not to feel immediately protective.

“Sure.” She gestures to the driver’s seat door. “You wanna drive?”

Ratchet shakes his head mutely, which - if Kara didn’t have it before - is definite indication that something’s up. She doesn’t push the issue, instead retreating into the car, buckling up, and waiting for him to do the same.

The drive back to New York isn’t a long one - there’s a rift about ten minutes from here that puts them right in Manhattan - but today it suddenly feels like an eternity. Kara’s mind races, brimming with what if’s and all sorts of over-dramatic possibilities. It’s this part that she’s still not entirely used to. Ratchet isn’t just one of her best friends anymore -- she also has to act, in some capacities, as his guardian. It’s not a task she can solve with laser vision or superstrength. 

Kara may be able to move mountains (sometimes literally), but she’s only twenty-five years old, and she worries more often than she allows herself to admit that she’s gonna mess something up.

“Ratchet, talk to me,” she blurts out, not able to maintain the heavy silence any longer. “What’s going on?”

Ratchet presses the side of his head against the passenger’s seat window. “I just --”  He doesn’t look at her.  “I don’t want you to be... disappointed.”

He’s never said anything like that to her before, and even to someone who’s usually close to invincible, it feels a little like being punched.  She steals a glance at him, but he still won’t meet her gaze. “That’s, like -- not even possible.” Making it sound teasing strikes her as the best way of lightening the mood, even though in all seriousness, she doesn’t think she could ever not be proud of him. A little more carefully, she adds, “You know you can tell me anything.”

There’s a beat in which Kara thinks he’s going to fall into silence again -- but then he moves, and out of the corner of her eye she realizes he’s stopping to rummage through the backpack at his feet. They’re nearing a stoplight by the time he pulls out what he’s looking for, so she spares it a longer look.

 It’s a piece of paper -- this semester’s report card, she realizes after a moment. She scans his marks and sees a few C’s, a couple of D’s -- a B. One F.  

Her heart sinks for him, not because of him. She’s already gotten a sense of how he must be taking this.  

“Oh, Ratchet...” Her attention diverts briefly as they start driving again. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to --” He sounds startled, and then he cuts himself off. “I’m the one who messed up.”

“It’s just a report card. I don’t know anyone who got through high school without getting a bad one, once in awhile,” Kara soothes. Her first couple grades, back when she was still getting used to school and... Earth in general, definitely hadn’t been so great.

Ratchet straightens in his seat, his tail twitching frustratedly in his lap. “Okay, but -- this shouldn’t have -- I don’t even know what happened.”

“...What do you mean?”

He doesn’t give her an immediate answer, but she doesn’t push him for one. She knows by now that sometimes it’s less about Ratchet not wanting to talk to her and more about him not being able to find the right words.

“I -- I missed a lot of homework,” he admits after awhile. “I know I shouldn’t have, I just -- I knew some of my grades were slipping, and every time I thought about trying to catch up, or do extra credit, I would just -- I don’t know, freeze up!”

Kara stays quiet, processing, because she’s pretty sure Ratchet has more to say and she doesn’t want to interrupt his working it out.

“Like, I would think about doing it, and then I couldn’t -- think at all, until I stopped trying to make myself do it. And the more behind I got, the harder it was, and I -- I didn’t know how to make myself --”

His voice breaks. By now, Kara has decided to pull over into a nearby Walmart parking lot, because this is quickly becoming a situation that demands her full attention. Once the car is parked, she turns in her seat and reaches out to smooth over some of his fur.

“Ratchet,” she murmurs. “It’s okay. It really is okay.”

He looks close to tears, and she can hardly stand it. She doesn’t want to watch something he enjoys turn into a source of stress and disappointment -- she knows some of how that feels, and she suspects putting it into words for him might help.

“My foster mom used to say that -- when you feel like that, it’s called ‘executive dysfunction’. For all Krypton’s advances, we never had a a word for it.” Kara pauses for a moment, almost thoughtful. “But it doesn’t mean you’re lazy, or that you’re not smart. Okay? Grades on a report card are a dumb way of measuring that stuff, anyway.”

For all that this must be weighing on him, Ratchet tries to smile at her, and she feels a familiar flash of admiration for his courage. “...It still feels kinda crappy.”

Kara can’t help but laugh a little, endeared by how candid it sounds. “Yeah. I know.”  

Ratchet pauses more uncertainly. “How do you, uh... ? Deal with the -- executive dysfunction stuff. I mean, is there a way to -- ?”

“Well,” Kara considers briefly. “It sort of depends on what works best for you. But -- now that I know you’re having trouble, I can help. We can work on figuring out the best way to schedule things -- like, which times of the day are the easiest to study in, and how much time you should spend on it before you need to take a break.”  She remembers how supportive Eliza had been whenever she’d struggled as a child, and in that moment, it’s all she wants to make sure Ratchet gets to have the same thing.

“I bet Sasuke would help, too,” she offers, because she knows he would want to, even if he isn’t always good at saying as much. “In a way, it’s kind of like... training. You push yourself too hard when you spar, and your body gives out. You push yourself too hard when you study, and your brain does the same thing. If... that makes sense?”

When Ratchet nods, it’s slow and not quite certain, but some of the shame and frustration has eased from his expression. “I... think so, anyway.”

“There’s plenty of time to figure things out,” Kara continues. “And plenty of time to bring your grades up. I mean -- it’s sophomore year. You’re supposed to make mistakes sophomore year!”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it, since you’ve already survived it.” Ratchet’s tone is starting to sound teasing and wry, and it instantly eases a little of the weight on Kara’s heart. He pauses, his expression softening.  “...Thanks, though, Kara.  I --”  He hesitates.  “I’m really glad I don’t have to do this without you.”

The words hit her in a strange place.  All her feelings surrounding being pulled back and forth between two worlds are... complicated, to say the least, but she leans over to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. And when she pulls away to answer, she finds that she means it. “I am, too.”

They smile at each other for a moment, before Kara’s smile turns a little more playful. “So. Ice cream?”

“In the middle of winter?” Ratchet asks, though he doesn’t sound at all opposed to the idea.

“We’re still in New Orleans,” Kara points out, smile broadening into a grin, before she turns the car on again.

What she doesn’t say is that Ratchet deserves something nice. That he deserves -- the world, really.

But she thinks he gets the message anyway.