#therapist said I was autistic and I just stared at them

[wrongfourtytwo]

I don’t remember what this was meant to be originally, and. It doesn’t make sense but I enjoyed creating it. Think the scene was original from a fic I’m writing

[tiyoin]

I see your anxious reader and raise you this. Depressed, anxious, ADHD, mild autistic reader. :)))) my life is a living hell! :))))))))) *shakes and stemming violently*

🫵 YOU

you get it.

i don’t have autism (i think, gotta get that checked, but it’s highly suspected that i have audhd -from my lovely therapist🫶) so i don’t want to misrepresent it or offend anyone. but you’re literally the strongest soldier out there. like im struggling with just the 3 and my life is already a hellscape.

but as someone with all of the top 3 let me tell you- they were HUGE influences on how twisted anxiety reader acts.

is reader going to have a special fixation? yes! but will it be on an object… possibly no, but IT’S GONNA BE ON PEOPLE.

they’ve already considered grim a ‘safe person cat’ and subconsciously think of him as an emotional support animal (like i did with my late dog) so you can expect more of grim and reader!!

Is reader gonna self destruct as soon as they feel like experienced ‘rejection?’ ABSOLUTELY, they’ll pull away at the slightest chance their vulnerability was seen as ‘too much’ or if the person got uncomfortable

and obviously by the title reader is socially anxious. but because of recent events i’ve found a deeper level of experiences with it and reader is about to hit a new plight of events!!

but imagining reader with the 4 horsemen of the mental illness (that’s what i call them cause everytime i got diagnosed w smthn i swore i heard the trumpets of death) their life would be sooo much harder. just because there’s so many contradictions between them.

reader needs a schedule to feel organized but they can’t keep to the schedule because all their dopamine went into creating said schedule. and they’re procrastinating.

reader wants to talk to someone but they just realized eye contact is too much for them. but they were taught to look at people when talking or it’s rude so they’re just 👁️👁️ staring

reader had a surge of energy, of dopamine and they were out-going, friendly, talkative- everything was going right, but then the next day they’re hit with a huge slump. ofc reader is in despair because see they can do better, be better!

and it frustrates them to no end.

reader at the monstro cringing at the food they were given. you bet it tastes amazing! but the side dish is looking at you weird, and it’s touching the main dish… no! it’s not a problem, not at all! but… there’s an uncomfortable feeling you’re experiencing, and you do everything in your power not to be rude.

ofc reader gets embarrassed by this. they’re acting like they’re 5!! but… the food is contaminated and you can’t eat it ‘pure’ anymore. and don’t get the reader started on the texture of the veggies, it makes them shudder. like it’s good! but there’s smthn about it.

reader who notices everything but forces themselves to have tunnel vision because everything is just too much.

i’m taking this one after myself, but when reader is nervous they have a sign. ofc rook was able to decipher it in a split second, but they’ll always scratch their nose or rub their hands together like they’re plotting smthn

yeah, plotting of to escape!

reader who wants to fit in soo badly, but no matter what they do they always feel like an odd ball. but when they hang out with the odd balls they still don’t fell, quite right. reader is gonna experience a constant limbo of ‘where do i belong? why can’t i fit in anywhere?’.

HAHAHAHA READER BEING ABLE TO REMEMBER THINGS TO THE SLIGHTEST DETAIL WHEN THEY WANT TO BUT ASK THEM TO REMEMBER SMTHN IMPORTANT N THEY GO BLANK

but don’t worry anon, our lovely twisted anxiety reader is gonna go through it 🙈

[wangxianficrecs]

Changed for the Better by tigerlilly3224

Changed for the Better

by tigerlilly3224

M, 4k, Wangxian

Summary: “T-They have busy lives. It’s hard for them to step away.” Wei Wuxian didn’t usually stutter. He was tripping over his words. Trying to justify the accusations faster than his mouth can form the sounds. His brain brought up the long prepared list of why the Jiang’s did and always would come first. Lan Wangji narrowed his gaze. “You lower your own worth for their sake. You told me you wrote wrong answers on assignments so you wouldn't get a better grade than Jiang Cheng. You are your own person Wei Ying and you live as if you take up too much space. I want -“ {aka. college roommates wangxian learn to navigate their lives and heal each other along the way ✨🫶} ** on page panic attack, past referenced/implied emotional child abuse & neglect // rating due to topics both mentioned & implied but there is no spice here just feels Kay's comments: Aka the fic where Lan Wangji bullies Wei Wuxian to get therapy for his undiagnosed ADHD. This was very cute. Roommates Wangxian with autistic Lan Wangji and ADHD Wei Wuxian, who clash from the beginning, but learn to live with each other and compromise and eventually click. I love how it mirrored canon in the way Wangxian both found each other interesting but annoying at first until it clicked and they were just both gone for each other. Excerpt: At some point, Wei Ying had snapped. “It is not unreasonable.” “Lan Zhan, you said I couldn’t listen to music even with headphones!” Lan Wangji narrowed his eyes. “No. You listen to music in your headphones loudly . So all I hear are itty bitty crackly noises that make my skin crawl.” “Even when I’m in the other room?! Sorry we all don’t have bat level hearing.” Wei Wuxian crossed his arms in a huff. Lan Wangji stared at him. “What?” “I do not have hearing like a bat.” He exhaled in frustration. “That’s what you took from the conversation?” Wei Wuxian pushed his unruly hair out of his face. “I can’t study unless I have music on and the television on in the background. You’ll just have to be out of our room I guess.”

pov lan wangji, pov wei wuxian, modern setting, modern no powers, wei wuxian has adhd, wei wuxian gets therapy, autistic lan wangji, mental health issues, roommates, college/university, college student wei wuxian, college student lan wangji, good sibling lan xichen, therapist lan xichen, bad parents jiang fengmian & yu ziyuan, implied/referenced child abuse, neglect, panic attacks, strangers to lovers, pre-relationship

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[k9authorwolf]

Lucid Dreams- Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Enchanced!Reader (Part 01)

Summary: The cradle of sleep continuously eludes Bucky. Nightmares tormented him every night. But a chance encounter with an unknown woman draws him into the dream realm. Granting him the peace he so desired. But he longs to see her again. His dreamgirl.

Disclaimer: The reader's autistic traits are based on my own. Every autistic person is different with their own different traits. So please do not assume every autistic person is like this.

Inspiration: Lucid Dream by Owl City

Bucky jolted awake from another nightmare. Covered head to toe in sweat, his heart rate extremely high. He was in his apartment, on the floor in the living room with a bunch of blankets and his pillow. The TV on low playing some crappy old sitcom from two decades ago was the only light in the room. Bucky groaned in frustration as his hands went to his short hair. He hadn’t had any decent sleep in weeks. Nothing but nightmares.

He was so tired.

The lack of sleep was affecting him during the day, shuffling through the streets as if he were undead. Fueled by reflex and muscle memory. How much longer was this going to go on?

“How have you been sleeping?” Dr. Raynor asked. But Bucky didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He just kept staring blankly out the window, his vision doubled occasionally with exhaustion. In the corner of his eye he saw Raynor grab the notebook with frustration. His anger spiked, “Like shit okay! I’ve been sleeping like shit! Happy now?!” He exclaimed. The pen stilled in the therapist’s hand as she eyed him. “Have you been doing those sleep exercises I recommended?” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, every single one. And not one of them made a damn bit of difference!” All these “new age” methods were ludicrous in his opinion. Scented candles, meditation, listening to some ancient sounding new age music. It was too weird for his taste. A glass of smoked whiskey and a good book was enough for him, more realistic.

Bucky sat through the rest of the session harboring anger. His frustration over the lack of sleep he was getting was pissing him off more everyday. Everynight he’d stay up as long as possible. He'd eventually pass out but he’d be up in less than four hours from a nightmare.

Walking back to his apartment the sounds of the city had become droned and melded, in his exhausted hazed mind it was like the world was fading away. He passed the little coffee shop on his route, it showed up a few months ago. Seemed to be fairly popular with the young crowd. Whatever. He just wanted to go home.

“OOF!”

Someone bumped into him. “Sorry!” They left before he could see their face. He couldn’t really see clearly through the haze in his eyes. He looked at where he felt the person’s hand touch him, on his sternum. He felt a warmth coming from it as if the hand was still there. He grasped the end of the hoodie and pulled it towards his nose, he sniffed. Coffee. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans wafted into his nose. The roasted smell made his mouth water. Fresh coffee. Maybe he’d brew up a pot when he got home.

Finally his apartment was in sight, and so was someone. Sam. The new Captain America sat on the steps of his building. Clearly waiting for him. On approach Sam stood up, “Raynor called me.” He said. Bucky rolled his eyes in annoyance, “What are you my nanny now?” Bucky snapped, fishing out his keys. “She told me about your sleep problems. I just wanna help man.” He was so sick of this. People thinking they can just walk into his life and without indirectly telling him he’s a wreck, a psychological tire fire, a monster who must obey like an obedient dog! “She knows nothing about me!” Bucky was getting more and more angry. “Buck, we're just trying to help.” Sam placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. But the former Winter Soldier shoved it off as if he had been burned. “SHUT UP!” He yelled. He turned to Sam, “You wanna help Sam? Then leave me alone! You have no idea how all this is for me! Everything I’ve done! And until you do, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” He yelled with all the anger that had been pent up inside.

He turned and entered the building, leaving Sam behind. Once inside everything hit him.

Why did he do that? Sam was just trying to help, like the good friend he is. And Bucky lashed out. He pushed his friend away. His only friend left. Bucky leaned his head back on the door as his face began to tremble and hot tears pooled in his eyes. He banged his head on the door in an attempt to punish himself. He slid down to the floor as sobs began to emerge from his throat. He was all alone. That’s what he does, he pushes and alienates all those close to him. Afterall it was his fault Steve left. Bucky berated himself thinking Steve abandoned him because he had enough. Bucky’s sobs echoed in his apartment. He was so tired. Why couldn’t he sleep? He just wanted to sleep.

Later that night, Bucky’s eyes were red and swollen from sobbing out his frustrations. He wished the world would just swallow him up forever. It was past midnight now, the smoked whiskey he poured two hours ago was almost finished. The astronomy book in his hand was half done. Since being freed, astronomy had become his favorite thing to catch up on. He could recall memories from his childhood where it’d be late at night, his parents and sisters would be tucked in and asleep while he snuck up to the roof to find all the constellations he could see. And get lost in thoughts over what may be beyond that sky and those stars. Now with all the satellites and space stations he was more enthralled than ever.

He yawned, he couldn’t see straight anymore. He wanted to sleep but he knew what would happen in a few hours. He needs to sleep. He stripped down to his boxers, his dog tags dangling against his bare chest. He looked at the spot where he had been touched earlier that day. It felt hot but not in a painful way, there were no marks or anything but he felt the heat seep deep inside him. Maybe he was hallucinating.

He laid down in his pile of blankets on the floor, the TV was on low. His head resting on the pillow. He took deep breaths trying to relax his mind and think of anything other than the impending nightmares he’d face later.

What would it be like to float through outer space? He wondered. Where nothing mattered. The problems he faced everyday would just melt away. Just him and the endless horizon of stars.

He slipped into sleep.

Weightless, Free, Peace, and warmth. That’s what Bucky felt, he’d never felt this before.

I am a light sleeper

But I am a heavy dreamer

He opened his eyes. And to his wonderment saw an endless sky of stars and colorful nebula clouds. He was floating in outer space. Yet he could breathe and there was no lethal cold. It was warm. Like being wrapped in a soft blanket or embraced by someone. This had to be a dream. It felt so amazing, sure he was just floating but it felt so free, so peaceful. He wanted to touch the nebula clouds, he reached his hand out unsure how to move himself forward. But with the thought of moving forward he slowly floated towards the cloud.

My imagination gives me wings

And I can go anywhere

His hand went through the cloud and it moved with his hand. Following his every movement as if he was controlling it. In a spur of childlike wonder he quickly flicked his hand and the cloud followed. Dazzling wisps of bright colors and starlight followed his hand creating an ethereal dance of light and wonder. Bucky’s heart soared with warmth and happiness. He wanted to see more. With a quick thought he floated up.

And when I wander away, to some other place

I'm suddenly there, way up in the air

Where passenger trains catch fire and fill the sky with flames

And that black rabbit of death

Wakes up in a breath, of beautiful dreams

My heartache it seems, so terribly vain

Where fire and diamonds fall like rain 

He reached out to grab a star. In his hand it was small yet bright. Like a firefly. He held it with care. It was like he could do anything. Go wherever he wanted. Nothing could tear him away from this feeling. His self hating thoughts, his tainted mind. It seemed so far away like no harm could come to him here. Here in this realm of dreams he felt safe.

Do you believe in endless miracles?

Do you believe in the impossible?

Do you believe sleep is a time machine?

Do you believe in curiosity?

Do you believe in what you cannot see?

Do you believe life is a Lucid Dream?

He suddenly heard music. It was getting closer. Was there someone else here? He looked and saw in a burst of ethereal color, a woman. Running on a stream of white starlight that grew to catch her steps. Nebula clouds and stars followed her as if she were guiding them. Her (y/h/c) air flowed behind her like a curtain as she ran. Dressed in a black tank top and underwear of the same color, she was happy as she ran on the stream of starlight. Earbuds were tucked into her ears with their cords disappearing into nothing. Bucky could hear the music from them. As clear as day. The woman turned her head to look at him, she smiled brightly as if she had been looking for him. Her (y/e/c) eyes, brighter than the stars that followed her, gazed at him. Beckoning him. She was so beautiful. Like a Goddess of Dreams. With a quick flick of her hands she sent another stream of starlight his way. It flowed under his feet pulling him forward to follow the woman. Nearly losing his balance he gradually moved his legs to run on the stream. 

This was amazing! He was running on starlight! He looked at the woman again, her smile was bigger and brighter. She raised her arms high as she looked at him cheering him on. He ran with her on the stream of starlight exchanging glances. She pointed ahead of them, the underside of a swirling galaxy. She sprinted ahead of him and breached the galaxy in a burst of stars and colored dust. Like a mermaid surfacing. He wanted to do it too. He sprinted. Breach. Breach. BREACH! 

Well that's how you study the stars

That's how you study the stars

And that's how you know 'em by heart

Life is a Lucid Dream

He pushed through the galaxy floating up and up with the stars following him. The brightness in his chest radiated. He never felt so free. So happy. So content. He breathed deeply in peace as he floated. He opened his eyes and stared at the swirling galaxy before him. He wanted to stay forever. His dog tags floated before him. Above him he saw the woman again, delicately drifting towards him with a soft warm smile that made his heart flutter. She reached out and cupped his cheeks with such tenderness his eyes drifted shut at the warmth. “Time to wake up.” Her voice echoed with such grace and softness it made the angel's of old sound tone deaf. And with a soft kiss to his forehead he was enveloped in a warm bright light.

I am a light sleeper

But I am a heavy dreamer

When Bucky opened his eyes again, he heard the sounds of the city. He stared at the ceiling. He was back in the real world. He smiled at the memory of his dream. 

He sat up, he felt well rested. Looking at his watch, it was past 6 in the evening. He had been asleep for sixteen hours. With no nightmares. He felt amazing. His mood shifted when in the corner of his eyes he saw a glowing blue light over his sternum. Ethereal blue light in the shape of a delicate handprint lay on his chest, the fingers ending at his sternum. Radiating a soft warmth. It faded slowly into him. He felt a wave calm wash over him as he thought about the woman in his dream. Did she do this? Did she give him that dream?

He needed to find her.

He had to see her again.

[nightinghoul]

Just Another Autistic LARPer

(I need to vent.)

I was so brutally bullied into submission growing up, I consciously forced myself to learn to mask. Then I was taught to make accommodations for people who didn't or couldn't mask. It hurt, because I was never offered the same considerations. Of course I believe they deserved accommodations - I just wanted that, too. Now I'm angry, but trying not to be. I had to find ways to manage.

When I was twenty, I started LARPing. I invented a character who was loud, rude, and stupid. This way, when I opened my mouth, I didn't have to be afraid of what people thought of me. If they hated my personality, I was just playing my character right. Sometimes, even when I played her, I just wandered around quietly, staring. As in my real life, I felt unwanted. But sometimes I forced myself to hoot and holler - enough that I had a reputation as a loud ditz that followed me to my social interactions with LARPers outside of the games.

At least, I learned the basics of interacting. You open your mouth and make sounds. People react. You try to make the right sounds.

I used that to get along for the rest of my life. I learned to make eye contact by working at a grocery store. Customers get angry when you don't pay attention to them. The more I masked, the more I learned to mask. The more I LARPed, the more autistic people I met. I felt like they were my people, but I felt like they were looking at me as an outsider now, too, like everyone else.

For a while, I only played "weird" characters at LARPs. Characters that would be outsiders because, I told myself, I was acting. Then I played characters who had what I didn't have - self confidence and self love. Characters who just assumed they were the best and the most beloved. Characters who didn't feel guilt for being alive. That felt good, I'm not gonna lie.

The more I played outgoing characters, the more I learned to mask. But there were always these moments, even in chatacter, where my throat went silent, and nobody invited me to sit by them, so I still felt wrong and unwanted.

I used everything I learned there in my real life, to work. That's what we train our whole lives for. I had a hard time keeping a job. I have a hard time understanding what people want from me. I have a hard time managing my job, and my temper. I never felt cut out for great ambitions.

When I finally worked up the courage to be tested for autism and adhd, my therapist at the time said, "You can't have those. You're good at holding a conversation, and you make eye contact. Plus, autistic people don't really know how to have feelings."

I will be 43 in a month. I was just diagnosed - ADHD a few months ago, autism a few weeks ago (plus ADHD confirmed.) But I feel like my sense of self has been absolutely and completely bullied and trained out of me. I feel like I don't belong in any world.

I'm not in any danger of hurting myself or leaving this world. I'm just sad, and busy picking up the pieces.

[horizonssicklyprince]

It’s currently 12 in the morning and this has been getting to me for a few hours.

In a discord server that’s fairly big that I’m in is always getting new members, it’s fun to hop in and talk to everyone and have a good time.

Someone said “I support autistic people UwU they are so cute”, I mentioned I was autistic and they called me a cutie.

I know that they didn’t know that it wasn’t a good thing to say but it made me so fucking upset, It’s not that big of a deal but it was just odd and upsetting.

I also mentioned I was experiencing another mental health crisis and wanted to draw but couldn’t. someone said I was insane and what ideas do I have.

That also made me upset, I’m not insane at ALL. Sometimes I do make little jokes about it but, but in that moment it just made me upset. They said it was a joke. But telling someone who said they were having a crisis was insane doesn’t seem like that funny.

I’m just so tired, I’m so spiteful and bitter lately and I don’t like how it’s made me feel. I wish I wasn’t autistic.

I overall think I’m on my downfall, I don’t recognize who anyone is anymore. Everyone said they had a point in their life where they were genuinely happy. But I honestly can’t think of a time I was, I knew underneath everything is the same repeating loop.

I can still vividly remember when my mother told me the suicide thought I had was just hormones, I was around 9. take a look at where I am now, it wasn’t hormones. Mother if you had listened to me I would genuinely still feel good about life.

Oh, another thing I’m salty about. The fact that my family is falling apart by the seams, I’m basically watching it in full view. What the fuck is the part of me saying “do not smoke weed in the house, I’m afraid that the smell will rub off on me and people will either make fun of or look at me” do you not understand?

My feelings are slowly becoming ignored, I don’t know if it’s true but it’s what it seems like. Even my therapist told my mom that I hated when the house smelt like weed at 9 in the morning.

I would rather be somewhere else than home, but I can’t go back to school. I won’t be able to do that again. And burdening my mom with having to drive me to school every morning would just make me feel bad.

I love my parents, but they make it hard to love them when I’m so obviously the black sheep, cliche I know.

My family all share interests and hobbies, meanwhile I’m in the corner just.. being me?

I hate staring at my mom’s vape, I want to fucking crush that thing so badly. It’s so ugly to look at, I strive to never smoke, vape, or become what my family has.

[devouredead]

Thinking about childhood today

Thinking about when I started school. And kids would talk to me. And I just... would not speak. Just did not have words. They said I was cold or rude. Eventually called me a ghost. Treated me as a non-person. Would not talk to adults, either. Not teachers, not doctors.

Thinking about how that continued on forever. They ask me a question, I could show them an answer, if they asked what book or what animal or anything, I'd show them but that's 'rude.'

Thinking about how I could not speak to my parents, only pushed out words to them when they threatened me. And how that continued on forever.

I struggle to speak without very specific scripts. I can write. Not with more social knowledge but at least words come, I have so many words in my brain. I use AAC pretty well. But I never had words for my parents or my grandparents, for my cousins or aunts or uncles. They grew old and away or passed away and I never had 'conversations' with them that weren't 'hi how are you okay bye' (a script) or echoes that they half-way understood. My father used to frequently tell me he didn't know who I was because I didn't speak to him. Of course, he didn't want scripts and was annoyed by echoes. He wouldn't look at the art I made or read my writing or watch movies or shows or share music with me. He refused every other way I had to communicate. My dad would not read the (literal) writing on the wall so... in the end he was right. He never did know who I was. My siblings and I echo (echolalia) back and forth to each other and that is our language, but as speech therapists will account for, echo isn't considered 'independently speaking' which I guess is their way of saying 'not speaking the right way,' which is to say, 'so that the outside understands.' Which is a shame because I love so many things I have many echoes for many occasions! They are just not original phrases or thoughts, just adopted reactions because as it's been made painfully clear to me, I will never have my own. As if I am the impression of all that touches me but nothing else. If people see me echo or script, they assume I talk with no difficulty. But I can't, and when they inevitably experience that, they get angry and think I'm rude/cold/hateful. And they take it out on me and are congratulated for it because I'm so hateful for not speaking. I get tired. Tired of living for abuse. Even other people with speech difficulties, because guess what? They don't magically understand, either, and I don't have a way to explain because of the assumptions of how being semiverbal works, at least for me. The assumption is always, somehow, that you speak typically except for episodes of speech loss-which is bizarre to me, because I (and the majority of other developmentally delayed and intellectually disabled autistics I've known in the flesh) who have been semiverbal definitely do not communicate like that. But then, I guess that makes sense that people don't know that, because we're not really among the autistic people who typically 'get out much.' Why is speaking so hard? Why can't I understand it? Why can't I do it right? How come I know where to put italics but can't make the people bark sound? I've had decades to be at least as good as a middle schooler so why can't I do it? Even if I try to talk to friends when they repeat back to me I realize that I haven't said enough to be understood or to make sense.

Why am I so bad at this? It's rhetorical. Of course I know it's my autism. It just affects me so bad that I can't make new friends or ask necessary questions or to protect myself. I just stare at people I'd love to talk to and reach out to but we can be two feet apart and oceans away at the same time.

Cuz we'll never talk, and that's just the truth.

My experience of semi-verbal/semi-speaking is all the time, not episodic speech loss.

While I have empathy for those with episodic speech loss and nonspeaking people, our experiences are not the same. Please stop assuming all semi-speaking people suffer episodic speech loss but otherwise have normal speech. You're erasing people like me, thanks.

-

I'm very much for everyone staying in their respective lanes! All our experiences should be respected and should have their space. For that reason...

Verbal/typically speaking people

People who experience speech loss episodes/selective mutism/anxiety related speech loss/speech difficulty is not a permanent state of being

Nonverbal/nonspeaking people

DNI with this post please! It's not for you-

[dyingclown]

TW for ableism in schools!!!

me when irls say borderline ableist things to me but i cant do anything about it 😟

none of my irl friends know that im autistic because i hate telling people plus it's barely relevant

and when i tell people they like. look at me different. and i dont like it they freak me out

if you know you know but people dont treat me the same and i hate it

id like to think that im good at masking because i TRY to mask and i do everything i can to blend in and socialize as anyone else would

but there has to be something im doing wrong

i have a group of classmates that i do work with and stuff because theyre the only ones i know in the class

im friendly and polite and respectful and i make jokes and i laugh at their jokes

but they act so weird when im around

they look at me like im subhuman or something. i cant explain it there is just something about it

but it's only for a brief moment before they go back to normal. and i dont understand

in middle school i would occasionally have very public meltdowns (not my choice obviously, the mere thought of them makes me want to retreat from society for the rest of eternity. humiliating.) and i thought that everyone had forgotten about them but they hadnt

so basically theres no amount of masking that can save me from the perception of those who knew me in middle school

one of the people i was in class with in middle school had seen one of my meltdowns back then and we are still acquaintances today

we were in a group for a project a little while ago and she was jokingly giving everyone in the group fake titles

the title she gave me was "autistic"

i laughed at the time despite how alarmed i was and i asked her how she knew and she said "it's kind of obvious"

and everyone was just laughing and stuff but this happened several weeks ago and i havent stopped thinking about it since

it just felt so dehumanizing idk

speaking of dehumanizing, i HATE the school mental health system

school mental health workers are easily some of the cruelest and least empathetic people ive ever met in my entire life

i have several times been directed to an empty conference room while having a meltdown, but the "therapist" wouldnt leave me in there to be alone

she would just stand at the doorway staring at me

i would pace around the room and when i got even remotely close to her she would back away, as though i were some sort of feral animal about to pounce

i have never had a history of violence

but a crying child in mental anguish is the same as a grizzly bear, of course

it's all just so stupid

i feel so isolated and alone. i cant understand anyone else and they dont even try to understand me

i run a fake school confessions account and im anonymous on there

thats the closest ive ever been to being a part of the school community

it feels nice because they are treating the account with respect and im getting positive attention from my peers

im not used to it

but it sucks that the only way for me to be respected is to be anonymous

[mueritos]

hmngh. I have therapy today but Im going to bring up what I feel like are my autistic traits to my therapist. Inserting a read more cuz this got long, but if youre autistic, I would really appreciate some input/advice. This is just so long because I desperately am just searching for some sort of validation or anything really, but I guess its also practice to advocate for myself.

 She has said in past sessions that if I were autistic i’d be too “high functioning”, but I didnt have the knowledge or words or the introspection then to explain myself better. Ive been reading, taking lots of tests, watching a lot of videos, and reading up on autistic experiences. I relate to quite a bit of it and it has been both validating and equally as confusing. I keep doubting myself at every little thing, like doesn’t everyone feel like this? But i am an introverted possibly autistic person surrounded by friends who are extroverts with adhd, and the differences in our experiences has always been normal to me through the “introvert vs extrovert” perspective. Still, I wore my noise cancelling headphones to a music festival in my home town when out with friends and I felt like it really helped me calm down from the noise and the massive amount of people. Ive been letting myself rock when Im doing things, even if my mom points it out and tells me to stop. Ive been saying no to social gatherings for months now under the guise of “i have work to do”, but really its because I genuinely don’t know how to talk to people when its more than 3 of us in a gathering. I end up getting overwhelmed when people are talking over each other, and its always been worse when they’re drinking. I can handle my extrovert friends sober, but drunk is another story. Suddenly I feel the urge to cover my ears when someone says something a little too loud, I cringe when they speak over each other. I’ve had past experiences of people being excited/loud and I want to cringe from the noise and cover my ears, but I can’t because that would look rude. I don’t express myself the same way as others, and I am constantly confused by questions like “are you excited for __?” or “are you sad to be leaving ___?” No? I’m not, I genuinely don’t know what excitement feels like. I like when things have a start and an end, and I will never feel sad for something to end. I’ve stumped my friends and family when I told them I didn’t feel anything toward studying abroad, toward university, etc and etc. Sure I can feel momentary excitement and happiness, but it’s always been internal. I stress when I receive gifts because I worry I don’t look happy enough.

Like...it’s not normal for people to become irrationally angry or agitated when people burst into my room while Im drawing, right? It breaks my focus, and it’s so frustrating because now I can’t go back to what I was doing. I get irrationally angry when people express their happiness or excitement, because I don’t understand it. It confuses me, like why can’t you keep that inside like me? The last time I expressed true happiness was when I saw an email for a potential client, and I stared shaking my hands. It felt so good, but I would never do that in front of other people. “I’m excited” isn’t even part of my vocabulary is what I say often, but it’s true. It doesnt make sense to me to let everyone in the room know how im feeling. My emotions are very stagnant and I often don’t feel what I am actually feeling until theyre at extremes. I struggle with eating on time or if theres no routine. It’s why summer has always been the worst for me, because theres no longer classes or planned breaks for me to follow. I have mental schedules for each day and if they don’t get done or are disrupted, I get really upset because I expected for things to be done. I wasn’t always good at group work, and I had to learn really hard to be a good leader and not take control of everything. Most of my language and body language is based off what I learned from watching TV, and I remember struggling to be understood by others because of that and because of my speech impediment, which I still struggle with now. I remember getting in trouble in school over things that I thought were socially acceptable because I saw them being done in shows, like being “mean” to people. I followed rules very strictly and other kids found me annoying for it because I would snitch on them for it. I only really ever had one close friend up to high school, where thankfully I found a group of people who were just as weird and as queer as I was.

I constantly get asked if I’m okay because I look upset or sad. Apparently my RBF is that strong, because people have even been intimidated by me. I don’t look people in the eye when I am walking around, I kinda just stomp around because I’m faking being confident because I get so anxious by people staring at me. Eye contact has felt invasive for a long time, especially by strangers. I need large amounts of alone time to feel okay. The worst was when I was working 8am to 9pm for a BIPOC/Queer four day program for my campus. That was literal hell. I have never talked to so many people for so long in my life, and I hope I never have to ever again. I didn’t know it wasn’t normal for someone to get so socially exhuasted that you just withdraw completely. I couldn’t fathom speaking after a few hours, getting words out felt literally painful. All I could do when I got home was sleep and do it all over again. If someone tried talking to me when I got home, I was agitated and couldn’t control it. We had to take group photos and I couldn’t even fake a smile; my face muscles hurt and they began twitching. My inability to fake emotions has always been a problem, and Ive had facial twitching from trying to smile in the past during parties and other gatherings. I also feel like I hurt people when I tell them I dont miss them. I don’t think Ive ever felt like Ive missed anyone. I am perfectly fine on my own, and I think my independence makes other people feel like I dont love them. I struggle in romantic relationships because I feel like I dont show affection in a very traditional sense. Light touching feels awful, but when my boyfriends lays on top of me, it’s like I’m at peace and it feels awesome.

idk. I cud go on and on about this but my ignorance toward social situations, my sensory issues that I cant hide anymore, my difficulty with feeling emotions, and I suppose the way my intelligence was always used as a way to ignore all of these issues; it all has been catching up to me. Maybe it was the pandemic. I loved being at home, but the lack of routine made me depressed. I love wearing masks so people dont look at me and I can hide my deadpan face. Idk. Its just been a bit overwhelming lately as I let myself slowly be more in tune with whats happening. I dont know if i want an official diagnosis, but I guess I just want to feel like im not a freak for being different than my peers. Ive always felt behind them

If u read this far pheww thanks but now u know a lot more about my pysche than some of my friends haha. Its just been hard because my friends are starkly different than me, even if they are ND as well.

o well. guess ill figure things out

[keyofshadows]

So I was in the hospital for three weeks in May with severe fungal pneumonia. I needed to have a bronchoscopy and they found my right lung completely blocked with phlegm. No breath sounds. Super fun, let me tell you.

I actually ended up telling my nurses and the charge nurse that I was autistic when they wanted to move me to a louder, busier floor. Thankfully they let me keep my quiet room on the quiet floor.

While I was in the hospital I got a call from my brother (who I live with), checking up on me and letting me know that he was super pissed about the state my room was in (papers, stuffed toys everywhere, unmade bed, clothes folded in a corner because I have no dresser, which he's responsible for). He told me that he and my sister-in-law were going to clean it for me. I told him not to touch anything, my therapist was helping me with it and we were making progress. He said they were starting next weekend whether I was there or not. Of course I wasn't there in time because I developed a secondary infection and needed to stay longer.

After I was released from the hospital, I found most of my bedroom in the living room. Bags of clothes, bags of stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, medical papers, my stories, almost everything. Despite me being exhausted and just wanting to nap, my brother gave me a bunch of my papers to sort through. Then he dragged in bags of stuffed animals. The rule! He'd dump out a bag, I could pick one toy. Each bag held about eight. I had around thirty stuffed animals. These were all important to me. They all had names, some I'd had since childhood, all were great for my anxiety and doctor appointments. It was really really difficult, and I lost my words and could only point. Some choices I made, he wanted to know why instead of just setting them aside. I made myself talk because the thought of losing them because I couldn't speak was intolerable. He gave me a couple extra here and there and then accused me of trying to manipulate him.

After the stuffed animals we went through my baby dolls which is a whole other level of trauma. I still have some of them, thankfully. I'm working with my therapist regarding this because I'm so incredibly angry and depressed about it. I'm an adult and he has no right to my stuff even if he does pay the majority of the rent, but I get SSI and can't afford to move out. I'm here as long as they'll have me.

All my stuffed animals are in a scented garbage bag in my closet (brother and sister-in-law know I have asthma in addition to pneumonia recovery, but nah, why not).

Other annoying and frustrating bullshit relating to this:

- I'm not allowed to close my door anymore unless I need to change. I thought it was because he was worried I would pile junk up again. Nope. It's because "you don't deserve privacy". Wow, flashback to my actual childhood. At least he hadn't taken the door off the hinges like my loser father did. Anyway, brother dearest wanted me to keep it all the way open minus changing, and I had a panic attack because I hate being stared at/NEED PRIVACY GODDAMIT and he just blew it off. I begged all day and finally got the okay to keep my door closed halfway. I'm still completely screwed when perfume/smoke/garlic wafts in, but whatever. Better than nothing I guess.

Things I lost:

About 15 books out of roughly 170. I got lucky here, he wanted to cut my books way down. Yes, they were all already in bookcases.

35 stuffed animals. This includes my bulbasaur, eevee, umbreon, and beanie baby collection (new, not vintage) that he 'accidentally' threw out before he let me look at them.

My Monster High dolls, because they're against his religion? I guess? He just grabbed them and told me, "You know why these are going" and threw them in the trash.

Five or six of my Funko pops. I actually only have a few displayed now because I hid the rest.

My three extra backpacks, which used to come in handy for clinic/hospital shit, but oops, not anymore.

MY WHOLE ASS SQUISHMALLOW COLLECTION, WHICH WAS MAYBE FIVE, HE JUST THREW THEM THE FUCK AWAY.

ALSO WORTHY OF SCREAMING: THE LOSS OF THREE OF MY BABY DOLLS.

ALSO ALSO FUCKING STITCH

Stuff I still have:

Lots of books, thank God.

My six American Girl dolls and one bitty baby.

All of my current barbies and some of my vintage.

My Polly Pocket collection (new, not vintage)

My Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy figures

My L.O.L. dolls, but only because they were in my backpack.

The rest of my Funkos

My dvds

Gundam model kits

15 stuffed animals/childhood cabbage patch doll/rainbow brite

Bumbly is at the bottom of the godforsaken scented trash bag (I think. I hope so. I need to look when my lungs get back to baseline), but he's gonna need to be washed anyway. So as some form of rebellion, I bought another Bumbly bear. Her name's Elora.

[wiltingdecay]

💥 and 💢 for Rowan pls :eyes: :eyes:

oh thank you so much for this i love prying open my blorbo's brain and taking a good look at what i put in there

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

uh. all of them? is all of them an acceptable answer? severe abandonment issues coming from both his parents, and the emotional neglect he received as a young child, lead rowan to have huge problems with emotional regulation, to the point of frequent dysregulation, that carried into his adult life. his autism making him easily overwhelmed by his emotions doesn't exactly make this any easier for him. he honestly thanks the gods that he's pretty inexpressive, because that makes it a lot easier to hide how big and scary all of his feelings are and how he feels like he's drowning in them. sometimes this can be good! he's frequently brought to tears by how happy he is and how much he laughs when good things happen, and when he feels loved, he feels So Loved.

but unfortunately this makes his negative emotions really hard to deal with. particularly during the plague-era and post-resurrection to early-game timelines, rowan would frequently get caught up in downwards spirals brought on by his feelings of abandonment and being unloved and that he's only a burden who can't do anything right. these spirals lead him into unhealthy and impulsive behaviour such as self harming through banging his head against things and biting himself hard enough that he bleeds, or sleeping with the first person to show any interest in him whether he actually wants to or not. this is also a big part of the reason why he became an alcoholic during the plague-era.

[gently shoves him into a therapist's office]

rowan is also semi-verbal, like me! he goes nonverbal frequently, sometimes as a response to bad shit happening, but usually just whenever there is just Too Much Damn Shit Going On! when feeling pretty much any emotion, good or bad, really strongly, rowan will get choked up and have the sensation like there's a lump in his throat he can't get rid of, and certainly can't speak past, even if he's able to think of something he wants to say in the first place.

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

see above i guess? a lot of rowan's shortcomings and character flaws that would cause conflict to arise in a relationship come from what i just described, but there are definitely a few more things (not necessarily negative things! some of these are just autistic traits that allistics tend to misunderstand/be cruel about) that can make them difficult or confusing to be around. i've said before that rowan has strange vibes that can kind of make or break a person's first impression of them.

rowan stares a lot. they don't necessarily mean it or even realise that they're doing it a lot of the time, but it still happens. rowan has a pretty intense stare, and because he's six feet tall and got piercings all over, this can be unintentionally very intimidating. a lot of people don't like that.

due to aforementioned issues and a touch of an inferiority complex, rowan is painfully insecure. this is another reason why they have a habit of sleeping around (though they would never do this if in a relationship, rowan's not a cheater). they seek validation a lot and frequently need to be showed and told that yes, they really are loved, and no, they're not just going to be abandoned again. this can be confusing to people who don't see why rowan would have any reason to think this way, and off-putting and frustrating for people who think they're just being whiney.

rowan's impulse control is uh. bad. anyone who's ever lived with him knows its a given that sometimes he'll just chop his hair off or get his tongue pierced in a dubiously clean salon or wake up with a tramp stamp after a night of bar hopping or have a threesome with some random old couple who told him he was a very nice boy. all of these are real examples.

rowan is pretty much always stimming. if he's not doing something with his hands he's humming or chewing on something or playing with his hair or tapping his feet or bouncing his leg or making some kind of repeated sounds or... the list goes on. he's considerate, though. he doesn't do anything noisy if it would bother someone, and he'll usually suck on something instead of chewing if he needs an oral stim but isn't in an environment where biting his own hand or drooling would be acceptable. doesn't stop dipshits from thinking he's freaky and weird for it, though, but people who actually know and care for him just accept it as a fundamental part of who he is that they wouldn't want to change.

like i touched on earlier, rowan is sometimes nonverbal. unfortunately there are people who think he's weird for this, thinking he's too quiet and therefore up to something, if they aren't just straight up calling him ableist slurs for it. thankfully, like with his stimming, people who are close to him understand completely once they get used to it and know why it happens, and they're perfectly willing to work around it and let rowan speak when he's able for it.

[k9authorwolf]

Lucid Dreams- Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Enchanced!Reader (Part 02)

Part 01

Bucky sat on the stairs of his apartment building waiting for Sam. He had spent the whole night formulating an apology to his friend. It was more difficult than expected, especially since his brain kept going back to the memory of the dream he had.

Floating free through space, able to manipulate the heavens, being free from his nightmares and struggles. And that girl he saw. She was so beautiful. His heart fluttered like a lovesick schoolboy, he hadn’t felt like this in years. It felt nice. He wondered if he would see her again tonight?

“Thought you wanted to be left alone?” Sam spoke up, snapping Bucky from his thoughts.. He took a breath, Sam did try his patience but he was the only friend he had left. “Sam listen, I know what I said and, I’m sorry. I hadn’t had any sleep in weeks and I was frustrated. I know you wanted to help and in all honesty, you're more helpful than that fucking therapist.” Bucky expected Sam to say it wasn’t enough and walk off. But instead the new Cap patted his shoulder and smiled, “S’alright man, I know it can be tough. Had the same problems myself.” Bucky smiled, relieved he didn’t screw up. “Hey I’m supposed to meet Torres at a diner a couple blocks from here, wanna come?” Sam asked. Bucky nodded, “Yeah, sure.” The two walked and talked the whole way, when they passed a small coffee shop Bucky didn’t notice the pair of (y/e/c) staring at him through the window.

Image not mine

“He looks so much happier now.” She said quietly. The music playing through her earbuds shut out the overwhelming noise of people and espresso makers.”(Y/n)! Get those coffee beans roasted!” Her boss yelled. Thank god for the earbuds. “Don’t worry sir, I already roasted them. I’m just refilling the jars.” Her boss looked at her in surprise, “Oh. Well, good.” He left, leaving her to revel in her work. (Y/n) did most of the hard work at the little coffee shop called, “Zen Brew.” She mostly cleaned, refilled, and roasted. Sometimes she’d have to man the counter when her space-brained coworker came up with some lame excuse not to come into work. She liked the repetitiveness of her job. Course the noise was the only problem, if it hadn’t been for her earbuds or the wax earplugs she kept in her pocket she probably wouldn’t have been able to get the job. But she’d never tell anyone that, no they wouldn’t understand. Most people didn’t understand her love for simplicity. It was their loss.

She saw Bucky everyday, he’d walk past the coffee shop everyday at 10:38 in the morning. Like clockwork. But he always looked so sad, like a lost puppy. She could always tell when someone suffered from nightmares, it was a part of her….gift. And Bucky was suffering more than she’d ever seen. She wanted to help him. (Y/n) purposely bumped into him the other day so that she could leave her essence on him and bring him into the dream realm. And his dream was magnificent, she had seen the dreams of many people before. But Bucky’s was boundless. It was what she loved about her gift, to see the true potential and inner most desires of those she helped. It was rare for (Y/n) to help someone more than once and yet she wanted to with Bucky. Tonight she’d see him again.

“Wait wait! Let me see if I got this. Some chick on the street touches you once and you have this wild crazy ass dream and she’s there IN the dream?” Sam asked. Bucky had told him everything about that night. With all that they’ve faced in the past this wasn’t the strangest or weirdest for that matter. However Bucky did want an outsiders opinion. “No offense Buck, that's pretty freaky.” Sam stated. Indeed it was, Bucky wondered if she was enhanced like Wanda. If only she was here. “I know but it was like she was in control, like a Goddess or something.” Maybe Thor would have an idea. “Think she might be a threat?” Sam asked but Bucky shook his head at the idea. “No, I don't think so. It was like she gave me that dream, like she wanted to help?” Bucky’s heartbeast increased as he remembered her sweet smile, the glow of emotion in her bright eyes, her soft angelic voice. Sam noticed his far off look and smirked, “Got a thing for her lover boy?” Torres snorted a laugh as did Sam. Bucky rolled his eyes at their immaturity. What he didn’t tell them was that he was hoping to see her again that night.

And he couldn’t wait.

That night, for the first time in a long time he was excited to sleep. He hoped to be swept back into that endless horizon, free floating amongst the stars and heavens. And to see her again. He laid down and waited for sleep to embrace him. But it couldn’t happen soon enough, he was too excited like a kid laying awake for Christmas morning.

Then, he suddenly felt something warm against his chest. Bucky looked down and saw that same handprint from before, glowing a heavenly deep blue. His eyes felt heavy, tired. Like something had flipped a switch in his brain. It was strange, he felt as if something or someone was holding him. Warm and safe, she was calling him. And he didn’t want to keep her waiting.

    Opening his eyes he saw stars. He was weightless. He was back. Bucky looked around to find her again. He heard no music. With his thoughts he moved through the darkness keeping an eye out for her. He didn’t have to look for too long.

A cute sounding laugh reached his ears. He looked and saw her staring at him with a smile. He felt all giddy inside as he moved towards her.

“You!”

“Me.”

He slowed to stop in front of her. “I was hoping to see you again.” He said. She tilted her head, “Really?” Those eyes, god those eyes. The softness, the emotion behind them made him forget how to speak. “I-I wanted t-to thank you for the other night. For bringing me here.” But then she let out the most adorable giggle he ever heard. “Bucky, you made this all yourself. All I did was connect you to the dream realm.”

“Dream realm?” Sounded like something out of a fairytale or a wild fantasy movie.

“Yes, it is a realm not bound by time and space. A realm where the fabric of reality twists and bends. You are having what’s known as a lucid dream. You know you’re dreaming and you have full control.”

He was shocked. This was all his doing? He made this? “I created this?” He asked. She nodded, “That’s right. In the Dream Realm you can create anything, do anything. Go wherever or whenever you want. Give it a try, just think of a place you want to go and the Dream Realm will reform to be whatever you wish.” When she finished speaking Bucky only stared blankly at her. She thought she went too far, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble like that.” She wrung her hands together out of habit when she was nervous. She usually kept a lid on her rambling but when she was happy, she couldn’t help it.

Bucky however, only smiled. Seeing her eyes light up like that and that cute blush on her cheeks. His heart was one step away from flying off. “Sounds like you know this place like the back of your hand. Like a Goddess of Dreams.” Her blush deepend with a nervous smile. “I'm  n-no goddess.” She stuttered. “Could’ve fooled me.” Bucky charmed. She gave him a sweet soft smile.

“I-I’m (Y/n)”

(Y/n). Such a beautiful name, Bucky thought. “James. But everyone calls me Bucky.” They stared at each other for a moment before he thought to try what she recommended, “So all I have to do is think where I want to be and it’ll happen?”

“Do you have anywhere special in mind?”

He did. A place he wanted to see again someday. He closed his eyes and thought deeply. A faint breeze blew across his face and he felt himself slowly lowered to the ground onto warm grass. When he opened his eyes, Bucky was greeted by the peaceful sight of a Wakandan sunset. A sight he hadn’t seen since his recovery from HYDRA’s brainwashing. The African landscape was as beautiful as he remembered it. And yet with (Y/n) next to him, it didn’t hold a candle to her.

“Absolutely beautiful.” She whispered as she looked over the horizon to the low sun.

They both stood and watched the landscape for who knows how long until she broke the silence. “Bucky, it’s time.” She could feel the morning approach. Bucky wanted more time with her so he jumped into the deep end. “Can I see you again tomorrow night?” He was afraid she’d say no. Instead she smiled, “You may.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. His eyes closed at the contact. She kissed his forehead and once again whispered,

“Time to wake up.”

He felt that warm and bright light envelope him again, sending him back to the real world.

The morning rays greeted him. He lay in that nest of blankets smiling with joy that he’d see her again.

Bucky Barnes was in love.

[againstme]

referred to something i said in a long kind of venting tumblr post i made relatively recently as a poem, and, yeah, honestly.

i don’t explicitly sit and write poetry anymore, i think i just type tumblr posts on my phone and i just use a lot of similes and metaphors and analogies. and it’s fun. or…something. it lets something out in a quick way, i guess.

could i maybe use that to write small snippets in my journal? maybe. does it flow as well when i’m physically writing it down when i’m at somewhere that isn’t my home in my bed where it’s private? no.

the thing about writing on my phone is that i can bring it anywhere, and i can think and make typos and backspace and shit. i only journal in pen, it’s permanent and i’d prefer it to not fade over time.

idk. maybe i’ll find some way around this. but there are some snippets of things that i say that i want to write down and put… somewhere for myself so i can look back at it.

like, in my therapy session a couple days ago, when i was trying to tell my therapist for the first time that my family thinks that i’m autistic, which i’ve never said out loud to a therapist before ever, i kept giving her analogies and using them and humor to cope and deflect.

“it feels like i have words that are deep in my body and i want them to come out so badly, but they’re wrapped in barbed wire and cutting my throat and mouth when i try to pull it out.”

“i can feel the once stable life and identity that i had now turning into sand and slipping through my fingers”

“i feel like i’m out at sea in the water, waving my arms for help. my friend looks out at me from a boat, life jacket in hand, but they don’t toss it out to me. they stare at me as i start to sink, us both knowing that i can’t swim.”

“i feel like i’m trapped in a plexiglass box and screaming for help as the world goes on around me, but i’m the one who put myself in there and the key is at the bottom of my stomach.”

oh and of course the one about being a trans son that i can’t remember off the top of my head.

idk where i was going with this, but yeah

[hyenadon]

woke up at 2:30 yday sent an email to my managers wish I could fall back asleep but i'm thinking abt a few things

1) my mom (not my biomom, my real mom) realized she might be autistic and i'm like. yeah. yes. we've been telling you. Babe. No shit. I've known you since I was like 13 or 14 and you've been so deeply autistic that whole time. Babes. Hon. Being super good at masking doesn't make you not autistic. You're just good at masking. MOM YOU ARE SO AUTISTIC. MOM. YOU CRY AT NOISES. MOM. MOM. MUMMA. YOU ARE SO INCREDIBLY AUTISTIC. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, MUMMA GIRAFFE. YOU ARE AUTISTIC. YA DUMMY. I LOVE YOU.

2) people tend to not believe me when I say I might be autistic or have adhd but I really have been doing the research. I've done my raads-r, ive done my cat-q. I've also talked to multiple liscened therapists and theyve said like "hmnnnn sounds like adhd or autism" And along with that it seems that I have a *lot* of the comorbidities that show up with autism. I have tummy issues, I have recently discovered that I have FUCKING GOD DAMN SEIZURES, maybe epilepsy, And my mom, who is a literal goddamn autism researcher, said "yeah that happens a lot with autism". And my biological parents have heard me describe how I feel about like, eye contact, and communication, and always feeling like i'm not communicating Good Enough, and my BIOLOGICAL PARENTS. the worst people on the earth. The folks that don't *listen* at all. Even they have said "are you sure you aren't autistic?" like. if even THEY can notice that I might be autistic, I feel like that's enough.

i'm tired of talking about how autistic I am but just like a reminder about how I genuinely might have epilepsy- in the past month both times i've felt this weird have been right when theres been a thunderstorm or a tornado and everyone I know who has migraines or seizures tells me that thunderstorms are a huge affector.

also I think i'm having super quick hallucinations. They are very easy to dismiss and toss away as not-real, but like. god I need to get to a doctor as soon as possible. i am seizing. i'm puking so hard my nose starts bleeding. i'm motherfucking hallucinating. thats not okay. (at least the hallucinations aren't super scary. Last one, a few minutes ago, was a gianr tarantula crawling across my windowsill, and I stared at it and thought to myself "that is not real".) but heres the thing. It's still scary even though I know its not real. it's scary *because* its not real.

and my dog can smell it too, i'm pretty sure. No, i'm very sure. Koda has done this a few times before, she starts chewing on my hands, nosing at my face, nipping at me, whining, yelping. And it's only been in the summer, during a storm, during a time of stress. All of the symptoms are there and Koda knows them.

it just uhm. fucking blows. bc Im p sure i fit every diagnostic criteria for epilepsy and then most criteria for autism or adhd. i can deal w the autism or adhd but the epilepsy....i feel so sick lately and I keep snapping in and out of concuousness wnd falling asleep in the middle of sentences its not ok i need to se doctor so soon anywau goodnnitut

[hannah-the-red-head]

A Third Submission to the Imagines Society”

(League of villains meets an Autistic child with a quirk that is the definition of too good for this world and then some)

You were a tiny thing when Twice, Toga and Magne stumbled across you at the park, staring intently at what looked like your shoes with your back turned.

Magne summarized that you were most likely around 5 or 6 years old based on the kindergarten uniform you wore, the adorable hat hanging on your back while your (h/l), (h/s) (h/c) was out and about. Usually, the tree would lose interest after a while and go about their merry way.

But there was something about you that made them stay, Toga’s curiosity getting the best of her as she skipped over to where you were on your knees, she then peeked over a shoulder to see you staring in awe at butterfly that was softly moving it’s wings while resting on the petals of a blossom planted in the nearby garden.

It was one that she had never seen before, well at least in real life, but the sandy blonde remembered that she had once seen it on the internet somewhere.

It was a monarch butterfly, and last she or anyone else knew, the species were hanging by a thread and close to extinction over the last 56 years. She had admit that the pictures were close to nothing compared to the real thing as Toga watched with starry eyes at how the orange colors splashed with black and white glowed in the sunlight.

Magne herself, followed by Twice then decided to follow toga’s lead when she began to giggle like an actual schoolgirl instead of the blood obsessed vampire they knew and loved. The two peeking at the sight of both you and Toga being the surprising perches of a collection of what looked to be more Monarch butterflies that seemingly appeared out of no where.

And one of them was perched right on the tip of Toga’s nose.

Meanwhile, you had taken notice that you had a butterfly watching buddy the second you felt her crouched down next to you, your glowing (e/c) eyes staring at her with curiosity before deciding that she was interesting enough for you to deem her harmless, despite not knowing the truth.

Because in your young and innocent head, anyone that appreciated butterflies as much as you did was a good person and/or possible friend in your book.

She looked at you when she felt your eyes on her and gave you a big smile, which from what you learned meant that she was happy. So that meant that she likes you too. You smiled widely back and a series of bright rainbow colored balls of light lifted themselves off your little form, your quirk creating more butterflies from them while your new friend’s eyes sparkled.

Your quirk was called Wonder, the specialist who gave it that name having been inspired by the same emotion felt after witnessing you use your quirk at first hand to bring a rat back to life after it had been killed by a mousetrap, and later on when they returned back to the room to see that it had been filled with butterflies flying beautifully above them.

Nowadays, you mainly used your quirk to create butterflies.

Why?

Because butterflies made you happy, they made you calm, they took your worries away... and watching them was akin to what your therapist at the orphanage called stimming, your hand movements if you easily became overwhelmed resembling a butterfly flapping it’s delicate wings.

You were also fond of anything that felt like the texture closest to what you thought butterfly wings looked. However, this obsession was also the reason why your were ostracized by the other children, ignored completely by them at the worst despite how hard the workers at the orphanage tried to explain what your condition was.

You didn’t understand why the workers had the need to get the other kids to like you, if you wanted friends, you’d get some yourself on your own.

And you never understood why you had to take speech therapy, wasn’t writing in your notebook enough? You hated loud noises, they scared away things, things that are... nice.

Things like butterflies and rats and rabbits and deer, which meant that you couldn’t appreciate them anymore if they left.

So, why was there a need to make noise or let alone talk? You could never control how loud your voice was anyways. You didn’t care about how sometimes you overheard the caretakers at the orphanage whispered things about how alien you acted.

Which led to where you were now, little you having completely forgotten that you were separated from the other children heading back towards the orphanage after school had finished when you eyes spotted a flower that looked familiar until your quirk manifested the butterfly.

They sounded as if you were broken as a human.

When in reality you weren’t, you weren’t broken and needed to be fixed. At first it made you believe those words, but the moments where your eyes caught onto anything relating to those paper thin wings that radiated with the colors of the rainbow, you’re mind went to an alternate world where those who spoke about your strangeness were nonexistent.

It was then that you remembered seeing the same flower from the picture book at your school, the pink and green flora being the type of chosen roost for the orange, white and black insect to rest on if they got tired.

You never knew how much time passed when you felt your new friend’s presence near you until you turned around silently to see a schoolgirl older than your smiling peacefully at your creation, who then smiled at you.

Smiles meant something good, right?

Your quirk activated instinctually, your subconscious telling you to make your friend happy again by creating more things that made her happy, like how butterflies made you happy. You watched as the manifested insects flew over to the girl and rested on her shoulders, two nestled on the wild hair of her twin buns and one on her nose, the sensation of it’s delicate wings tickling her skin bringing a giggle out of her.

You copied her, giggling as well as you knew that laughing is what friends did. The exchange between you two led to a pair of others appearing behind your friend, the both of them watching in awe at how gentle you were.

Meanwhile in their perspective, Twice and big sis Magne were in awe.

This was a side of Toga that the pair had never seen before, so their interest in you grew steadily as they approached you both, seeing that the number of butterflies had grown the closer the became, the same orbs of light appearing to change into other species before the skies above the park had clouds of multicolored wings flying above like a piece of artwork created by nature.

It felt like a blessing to witness a sight like this, a much desired peace accomplished after so many months of being on the run from heroes and the police.

Twice jumped up and began to comically twirl about among the flocks of winged bugs, his splitting personalities having been silenced by the Nirvana he felt surrounding him, only stopping when he heard a few giggles left your mouth while you tried to keep up with him and Toga’s free styling dances without a care in the world.

The four of you not caring that you were getting strange looks and even scowls from those who crossed your paths in order to get a better look at the butterflies conjured by your beautiful quirk.

By the time the sun had set, you and your new friends had collapsed onto the grass, laughing in between breaths from all the fun you shared in those hours of innocent fun.

And you were the one to give that sense of childhood purity of fun back to them without realizing it. In your mind, you were happy that you had finally made friends by yourself as with a kick of your short legs you sat up and turned to the one closest to you, a tall woman with sunglasses and short hair the other two called “Big Sis Mag”.

You poked her cheek and she turned her face towards yours. Taking a deep breath, you decided to try something new that you hadn’t done or were comfortable with.

You: (Yy...yourrr n....nnamme!).... (Your Name)!

It was hard at first, being silent for most of your childhood being the reason as to why you sounded like a newborn attempting to say their first word. But the pride you felt as you pointed to yourself when you said your name clearly on the second try was amazing.

“Big Sis’” eyebrows shot up in surprise, and you understood why she was shocked as the only noises you made were giggles and squeals.

You: (Your name)!.... B-big sissy... Mmmmmag! Fr...friends! T-t-too...Toga! Fri..ends! Twi...Twice! Friends!

All three had unknown expressions present while you gave them a wide toothy grin that you had never given anyone except for your mama.

Twice: I think I’m gonna cry.... No, I’m not! Grow a pair!

Twice cartoonishly wept through his mask, tears that would only exist within an Animé pouring from the eyes of his black and grey mask before stopping almost immediately, his face changing to that of a stoic man drawn in comic books.

Toga just smiled at Twice, before a weak tug on her cardigan pulled her attentions to you, your arms held out wide and with an excited glow to you. You always remembered the warmth your mother’s hugs were growing up, how safe and loved you felt when your adorable self tackled her leg in a weak koala hug before she pulled you into her own arms.

Toga: Oh does (y/n)-chan want a hug?

You nodded and tackled the blonde, arms wrapped around her neck with you cheek pressed against hers, something your mother called “cuddle bumps” as you hated it when someone kissed you.

You: C-cu-cuddle bu-bumps!

Twice: I want cuddle bumps! No, I don’t that’s weird!

You nuzzled your cheek against hers, the teenage girl internally squealing and hugging you back as she was overcome with a sense of some maternal need to protect you and the light your little self emanated, both figuratively and literally as your quirk caused you to glow a warm pink color.

Toga playfully stuck out her tongue towards him, when an idea came to her.

—————

Shigaraki: And the most logical thing that you could ever think of in that moment.... was to bring this brat home?!

Toga’s cheeks puffed up as she hugged your little form from behind while you fiddled with your quirk, a manifested butterfly perched in the palm of your hand. You loved the feeling of your big sister’s soft cardigan as she hugged you.

Toga: Of course, Shiggy! I mean they’re an orphan left behind by those “caretakers”, we even waited to see if anyone would come looking.

Twice: Yeah, it was so nerve wracking! I was bored beyond belief....

Shigaraki let out an aggravated sigh, knowing that you had wormed your way into the hearts of the most in the league, Dabi being the first to cave when you used your quirk to soothe the pain in his burnt skin. He didn’t know why, but the fire quirk user’s eyes softened when you gazed up at his skin and your smile faded, a look of genuine worry that he possibly never experienced in some time as your tiny hand went up to hold his hand with the both of yours.

The rest of the already shocked league watching as an aura glowed from your small form, the glow then moving up your arms and finally covering Dabi in the glow before then pulling away into orbs that popped like soap bubbles filled with fireflies.

Dabi reacted in a way that not even he could describe as all the unbearable burning pain his scars brought him disappeared, a strange surge of.... calm washed over him.

It was the kind of calm that one would feel when a powerful storm dissipates, allowing the warm sun to bathe the earth once again. 

And it was the type of calm that brought a heavy exhale out of Dabi, almost as if he had finally learned to breathe, tears falling down his cheeks and startling him, a hand shooting up to touch his wet face and pulling it away to see what was falling from his eyes.

This... made the tears fall harder.

Dabi had long forgotten what it felt like to cry actual salt water tears instead of blood. A relieved upwards tilt pulled at his lips as he fell to his knees before you, no words exchanged, just glances and a gentle grip of your joined hands.

You: No pain?

Your concern overweighed your struggling speech, your free hand raising up to hover next to his cheek. He chuckled softly, allowing you to place your hands onto his face.

Dabi: No pain. All better.

Your quirk was befitting for such a gentle, caring and kind being as you.

To put it simply, you could restore a person’s injuries, negative outlook on life due to traumatic experiences, and even their lost sense of morality via through your touch, being in your presence, or even by witnessing your creations first hand.

This was your power, a quirk that purified the evil living within this cruel world.

You could literally restore a person or persons lost sense of morality, your quirk changing a sociopathic killer into a saint seeking redemption just by spending an hour with you. 

Your quirk also allowed you to heal any kind of wound or cure any illness, it could even replace missing limbs and the like as long as you kept your focus.

And it was meant to be protected.

Which is why you were taken into the protection of the league of villains, the only group of people who were the first to actually care for you after your mama’s passing, and didn’t speak badly of you or your condition.

Because they didn’t mind that you were autistic, they didn’t see you as broken or wrong. How did you know that they didn’t ostracize you?

They told you.

Twice: You, broken? Ha, that’s fresh! At least you don’t have more than one voice in your head...

Toga: My quirk needs me to drink the blood of the person i’m going to transform into in order for it to work, and because of that, I was pushed away by everyone for how creepy it made me look.

Magne: Anyone would be proud to call you their kid with a drop of a hat. So what if your special needs, it doesn’t make you any less human, sweetie.

Dabi didn’t say anything when you asked, in your broken speech, if you were broken. Instead, he just ruffled your hair and let you wear his jacket all day.

Compress: This world is filled with imperfections, but who is to say that imperfections are ugly and unwanted. To me, imperfections are where true beauty lies as it shows that despite their flaws, they try again and again to make themselves better.

Spinner: Kid, I am a walking talking lizard with pink hair and a desire to follow Stain’s path to create a society where only those who embody the traits of true heroes like All Might are allowed to become heroes.

You didn’t know how to react as he continued.

Spinner: If anything, you are the most normal out of all of us, so don’t go hating on yourself because you’re brain is wired differently. You’re perfect just the way you are.

Magne: Aww, that’s so sweet of you to say, Spinner!

Spinner: BIG SIS MAGNE?!?! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?!

Toga: Enough to know that you give the best pep talks!~

[whump-town]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Inspired by the only Christmas movie that I like and last night’s episode of Prodigal Son

A dangerous car wreck puts Hotch in tricky situation-- to stay or to go?

Part One of Three (and don’t worry, I already wrote part two and am editing part three so it’s done I’m just not posting it all in one go-- so you’ll actually get the whole fic)

Feat: autistic Reid and Jack  (because I always thought that was what made the doctor’s appointment Hotch missed so important)

Aaron Hotchner wakes to the sound of his bedroom door slowly groaning, the old hinge creaking as it’s opened. If he hadn’t heard the faint, pattering footsteps beforehand, he might be fearful of what kind of intruders were trying to make their way into his home. However, before he can even roll to the edge of the mattress and offer his little burglar a hand up he’s being whacked in the face by a stuffed bear. Only able to grunt a complaint as a little fist grip tightly onto his pajama bottoms and-- “Hey, buddy.”

Jack looks nearly surprised to find his father staring back at him.

“You’re up early.”

Jack smiles, shyly leaning forward until he’s half laid across Hotch’s chest and half-buried down in the comforter. Placing one hand on Jack’s back, he leans up to see his alarm-clock. They’ve still got thirty minutes before the alarm goes off and the day must go on. Regardless, he sinks back into the pillows under him. Even if there’s no way he can go back to sleep, he can enjoy some pre-school-sized cuddles.

Thirty minutes is up too fast.

Carrying a squirming, unhappy five-year-old against his side he yawns and makes his way to the kitchen. “Oatmeal?” he asks, even though he knows the answer. Oatmeal is the only thing that Jack will eat. It’s a… comfort food. The therapist, not the family one they go to but the one that specializes in autism, said that oatmeal was one of Jack’s comfort foods.

There was a bit of a debate about if Hotch should try to introduce additional foods with the oatmeal and now they’re working by trial. Oatmeal doesn’t meet too many dietary needs and having Jack fall underweight and little for his age was just another blow to Hotch. He understands that he can’t take these things personally-- Jack being nonverbal isn’t anyone’s fault. Jack being autistic is not some cosmic payback. It’s just a thing. Something that the two of them are working with.

It was just so much easier with Haley here too.

He’s a little cranky now but today is a good morning and Hotch isn’t going to ruin it by trying to encourage Jack into eating apples. He’ll cut up a few pieces of banana for Jack to either eat or ignore and be content when Jack eats his oatmeal and finishes his orange juice and that’s plenty. That’s good.

“Ugh.” This is the part Hotch struggles with. Speaking. For the language center of Jack’s brain to develop properly, Hotch has to speak more than he does. Silence is far more natural for him and he’d like to think the same for Jack. Speaking all the time, saying everything is tiring and he hates it. The thing is, he and Jack work exceptionally well sans spoken words. Jack’s ability to communicate is exceptional, Hotch has to work for it, but he’s five and Hotch doesn’t know any five-year-olds that are flawless at communication.

“Ah, thank you,” he signs the words too. His sign language isn’t actually that good but, again, they make it work. “Can you go to the chart and--” Hotch smiles, Jack already running over to the poster on his wall. Smiling as he pulls the velcro pieces off and puts the little drawing of a toothbrush and hairbrush over to the done side. “Thank you, Jack. You’re doing so good this morning. How about socks and shoes now?”

Jack gets to pick his socks out.

Reid’s idea.

Hotch had been very hesitant to ask Reid for any help. To acknowledge the one thing that they never talk about. In the face of everything that happened with Foyet and then with Haley he’d been left with no other choices. Strangely enough, Reid is the only person that has never made Hotch feel like an awful father for not knowing what to do.

Jack… kind of hates Reid, though.

“Oh, nice!” Reid says that Hotch should encourage the things that Jack likes. So, every morning he works a little harder to be happy when Jack picks out two completely different socks and turns around to search for his approval. “Do you know what color this one is?” Hotch asks.

Jack sits down on the floor, wiggling contently as he waits for Hotch to slip his socks on.

“Jack,” Hotch encourages, jostling Jack’s thigh to get his attention. “What color is it?” He holds the sock patently in his palm watching Jack get momentarily agitated. He raises his hand, ready to sign the word himself but Jack beats him to it. Clicking his tongue as he smiles and pats his lip with his middle finger.

The sign calls for the signer to form the letter “p” and then to tap or flick their middle finger against their lip but who cares about that?

“Good job!” Hotch praises and it’s so easy to be happy. Jack’s so fucking smart and he’s already so excited to tell someone. Jessica or Dave or whoever he sees first. “Pink! Your sock is pink!” The other has dinosaurs on it, it’s a favorite and Hotch finds himself washing it and its pair at least twice a week. He thinks it might have more to do with the soft yellow coloring of the sock.

Jack’s favorite color is yellow.

“You wanna go play with your rocks?” Hotch asks, slipping his hands under Jack’s arms and righting him on his feet. “I’m going to go get dressed, okay?” He waits, making sure Jack is going to go drag his tubs of rocks out before going off on his way.  He can worry about limiting the number of rocks Jack takes with them later.

It’s Wednesday which means that he has to take Jack to the office for two hours until his program opens for the day. Technically, he should be in Kindergarten but Garcia found this program for him. He and Reid had gone to scope the place out. Hotch was way in over his head back then (and still is but then he’d been trying to cope with Haley’s death and getting Jack into school).

Though most of the things that the program had to offer were things he couldn’t understand Reid has taken it in. Explaining every little detail until Hotch understood not only the style of learning they were enforcing but why Jack had loved their foam furniture so much.

Hotch doesn’t know how he would have gotten through the last few years without the team.

With everything that happened with Foyet, he’s surprised that they can stand him at all. Maybe they shouldn’t. Their ability and drive to stay no matter what he did is commendable and he’s lucky to have a group of people that care about him but he has to consider why.

Why did they stay?

Morgan got a promotion, recently. With a short, strongly worded letter Morgan could have control of the whole department and he should have it. No one would think twice about snatching it up out of his hands.

He watched Reid struggle with addiction. Has hidden and protected Reid’s autism diagnoses from being filed on his record. His right hand, the woman he trusts more than any other agent, is a chronic insubordinate mess. For whom he has stepped on many toes. Despite his retirement and the push to fill the position in other ways, Hotch asked Rossi to come out of retirement. No one liked that idea but he did it anyway. There’s his decision to bring Garcia on despite her record, which had caused a lot of trouble.

JJ-- Well, she’s perfect so she’s probably the one they can’t use against him.

But how many times had Haley called JJ? Before the divorce and after. Even if they can’t use JJ against him, she probably hates him.

His life is a good and proper mess.

And now he has to go convince his son not to bring two pockets full of rocks with them.

He has to hike his dress pants up to squat down. If he brings himself down to Jack’s level it’s supposed to be more efficient for communication. That’s understandable. He’s certainly not going to stand over Jack. Jack’s hardly three feet tall, it can be a little overwhelming. Not to mention that’s over three feet of distance between them.

“Buddy,” he holds Jack’s hands in his own. “Buddy, you can take two.”

Two. Jack can count. Two just doesn’t sound like a bargain.

“Four,” Hotch caves. “Two for each pocket.”

Okay, he can live with that.

Jack hates his car seat but holding two rocks in each hand seems to soothe him enough to allow Hotch the chance to strap him into his seat. That and his sketchers hitting the seat’s bottom lights the whole car up in flashing blues and yellows.

Hotch glances back at him a few times. Sometimes Jack tries to put the rocks in his mouth. He’s never swallowed one, he just likes the cold way the rock feels in his mouth but if he does that while Hotch is driving it’s easy to understand how that might not end well.

He gets to an intersection in town, frustrated when he catches the redlight. “There’s no way this stoplight hasn’t ruined someone’s day before,” Hotch mumbles to himself. The thing gets stuck on red for an absurd amount of time. The lights are regulated, a fact Reid reminds him of all the time, but this one will stay on red for longer than two minutes. By the fourth minute, all patience is thrown out the window.

When the light turns green he glances back at Jack through the mirror, smirking. He looks back to the road still smiling. Jack is content, clicking his tongue, and watching the world pass by through his window. It’s like he can breathe-- he can stop for just this moment and know he’s doing something right.

He doesn’t see the other car racing across the intersection, blind with rage. There’s the horrible ripping of metal and the hiss of smoke and then nothing.

Turns out he was right.

That stoplight is going to ruin someone’s day.