#and she responded with ‘no i think your just autistic’

[urlocalsadkid-l]

i got called autistic again tonight

[scarletfasinera]

I HAAAAAAAAAAATE when people tell me something and Expect me to react a certain way to it (mad, sad, happy, excited, etc.) and then get openly mad at me when I just respond with "Ok" instead of however they wanted me to react. Girl how are YOUR expectations MY fault

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Masking

Wandanat x autistic!fem!reader

Summary: You exude confidence when running the tight ship at the Avengers compound, but it's all just a mask.

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Masking, sensory overload, emotional fatigue, mild dissociation, comfort and care

Authors note: I hope no one minds that I made reader autistic it just felt right as I started writing this that she was autistic and masking. This was a request!

The Avengers compound was a constant whirlwind of movement and noise, but you had long since mastered the art of blending in. You moved through the halls with precision, shoulders squared, steps confident, your words clipped and efficient.

You had to be.

People looked to you for guidance, for leadership, for a presence that commanded the room without hesitation. There was no room for uncertainty, no space for awkward pauses or misplaced words. So, you adapted. You studied the way others spoke, the way they carried themselves, how they reacted in different scenarios, and you replicated it to perfection.

Every interaction was a practiced routine.

Eye contact—just enough to seem engaged, but not too much. Staring was off-putting, but looking away too quickly made people think you were nervous or disinterested. So, you held it just long enough, counting in your head before glancing away naturally.

Tone—firm but not aggressive. You had learned that being too direct made people bristle, but if you softened your words too much, they assumed you lacked confidence. So, you struck the balance, keeping your voice even and controlled, modulating it just enough to sound natural.

Expressions—carefully controlled, mimicking the right amount of stern authority. You had practiced in the mirror, adjusting your face to reflect the reactions people expected from you. A smirk here, a raised brow there, the occasional chuckle when the situation called for it.

Gestures—purposeful. Too much movement made you look nervous; too little made you seem robotic. You had calculated how to stand, how to walk, how to use your hands when speaking so you didn’t come across as stiff or unnatural.

Masking.

It was second nature now, the shield you wore as part of your role. No one questioned it. You were strong, competent, unshakable. That was the version of you the world expected, and so that’s what you gave them.

But it was exhausting.

Every second of the day was a mental checklist, a constant game of social equations running in the background of your mind. It wasn't just about getting through conversations—it was about making sure you performed correctly. That you didn’t linger too long after saying goodbye. That you responded with the right words when someone made a joke. That your body language wasn’t too rigid, but also not too relaxed.

The longer the day stretched, the heavier the mask became.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, your limbs felt like lead, your skin raw from the effort of pretending. The lights in the halls were too bright, the voices around you too sharp, grating against your senses like nails on a chalkboard. You were aware of every thread in your clothing, every distant conversation, every flicker of movement in your periphery. It was all too much.

But still, you smiled when necessary. Still, you nodded in understanding when someone spoke to you. Still, you held yourself together, as if the mask weren’t suffocating you with every passing second.

Because out here, you had no choice.

Out here, you were the person they expected you to be.

But behind closed doors?

That was a different story…

By the time you finally stepped into your shared penthouse, the weight of the day dragged at you, your mask slipping the moment the door shut behind you.

Wanda was the first to notice. She always noticed.

"Hey, love," she said softly from the couch, her voice laced with warmth. Natasha glanced up from the kitchen, her sharp green eyes flicking over you, assessing.

And just like that, you melted.

Your shoulders sagged as you toed off your shoes, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. No more forcing yourself to stand just right, no more careful control of your expressions. Here, you didn’t have to pretend.

"You good?" Natasha asked, but she already knew the answer.

"Masking all day," you murmured as you padded toward them, already reaching for the comfort only they could provide.

Wanda opened her arms without hesitation, and you collapsed into her embrace, letting yourself be guided onto the couch. Natasha joined, her hands gentle as she pulled your legs over her lap. You settled between them, head resting against Wanda’s thighs, feet tucked under Natasha’s warm hands.

The tension bled from your body almost instantly.

Wanda’s fingers combed through your hair, her nails scratching lightly against your scalp in a way that sent pleasant shivers down your spine. Natasha traced absentminded patterns against your ankle, grounding you further.

"You wanna talk about it?" Natasha asked, but she didn’t push. She never did.

"Not really," you admitted. "Just need to… exist for a bit."

Wanda hummed in understanding. "Then exist, my love."

And you did.

The three of you fell into a comfortable quiet as a nature documentary played softly on the TV. You stared at the screen, body limp and content between them, your energy slowly recharging in the warmth of their presence.

It wasn’t long before your thoughts spilled over, unfiltered now that the mask was gone.

"Did you know that sea otters have a special pouch in their armpits where they keep their favorite rock?"

Natasha’s thumb stroked lazy circles against your ankle. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded, shifting slightly against Wanda’s lap. "And sometimes they pass their rocks down to their pups, like family heirlooms."

Wanda let out a soft laugh, her fingers never pausing in your hair. "That’s adorable."

"You’re adorable," Natasha muttered, her voice fond.

You huffed, but a small smile tugged at your lips. "Also, Mantis shrimp can punch with the same force as a bullet. Their punches are so fast they create tiny bubbles that explode with light and heat."

Natasha let out a low whistle. "So, basically, shrimp with superpowers."

"Exactly! Just like Wanda" You smiled up at your girlfriend who was smiling fondly back at you. 

“Yes, Malyska, exactly like me.”

They let you keep going, let you ramble about whatever popped into your mind, never interrupting, never acting like it was too much. They simply listened, soaking in the way your voice animated with excitement, how your face lit up when you shared something particularly interesting.

And with every fact, every gentle touch, every soft hum of encouragement, your battery slowly recharged.

Here, there was no need to mask. No need to perform.

Here, with them, you could just be.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

I have no clue how this guy hasn't divorced his wife. If my partner looked at me with disgust about anything that wasn't literally disgusting, I'd be googling "divorce lawyer."

by Sam Williams

A week ago, my wife and I went to John Lewis to look at air fryers. As we entered the store, I put on an FFP3 mask because of Covid. My wife looked at me in disgust and said, “Oh, you’re wearing a mask?” I replied, “Yes. There’s a lot of Covid around, and I don’t want it. Do you?”

She responded, “Well, the trouble is, I’m not wearing a mask”.

I said, “Yes, I can see that. I wish you would. The trouble is, every time I’ve caught Covid, it’s been from you. I’m disabled with long COVID, and every time I get reinfected, it makes me really, really ill”.

So here’s my question: does my wife not care?

I want to use this piece to spark a debate about who we are as people. Are we kind and virtuous, or are we selfish and indifferent? Writing an article about what stops people from wearing masks, while I live with the pain caused by my wife not masking, feels like an oddly meta activity.

That’s right, folks: it was probably my wife who gave me Covid in the first place. Although, to be fair, neither of us knew about masking or long Covid back then.

The case for masks amid rising Covid I need people to wear masks or ensure clean air so it’s safe for me to go out—especially in healthcare settings. Yet, most people refuse. I asked my wife why she doesn’t wear a mask, and she said, “There’s no point, because nobody else does.”

I understand the futility in her statement. Many people don’t wear masks simply because they don’t care or because they think Covid is over.

If my wife were a cruel or unkind person, it would be easier to accept her refusal to wear a mask. But in my experience, even many kind people—even those on the political Left—can be cruel when it comes to disabled individuals.

Although my wife has struggled with my disability, she is generally a kind person. In my autistic brain, it seems perfectly logical that she should wear a mask to protect me from airborne viruses. Yet, logic loses when it comes to personal choices and disability.

Misconceptions about Covid and masks People think Covid is “just a cold.” Some even believe masks themselves make you ill. I think people don’t mask because of ableism and because they’ve been conditioned to associate masks with the pandemic itself.

It’s the same conditioning that leads them to blame lockdowns and vaccines for Covid, rather than recognising these measures were designed to mitigate its spread.

When people see me in a mask, they’re reminded of the acute phase of the pandemic. My presence confronts them with an uncomfortable truth: their refusal to mask contributes to the deaths and disabling of others. It reveals they may not be as caring as they like to think.

I wish more people would remember the Covid dead and choose to wear a mask to prevent further loss of life.

Why people don’t mask The biggest reason, I believe, is a failure of public health communication over wearing a mask. The government declared Covid “over,” and most people still trust what they’re told. Many would resume masking if asked, but the government is too afraid of the right-wing media and too indifferent to disability to make that request.

Then there’s the pervasive idea of “health supremacy”:

The belief that only people with pre-existing conditions get long Covid.

The notion that a “healthy” immune system can fight off the virus.

The argument that we don’t need vaccines or other preventative measures.

Some even suggest that “living your best life” and going out for brunch are more important than protecting loved ones. The low mortality rate of Covid is used as justification, with a dismissive attitude towards the elderly and those with long Covid.

Many fail to consider the quality of life endured by those with long Covid or the rising number of children affected. Parents, it seems, don’t care enough about their kids, or they’re unaware that long COVID in children has doubled in the past year.

There’s also peer pressure and groupthink. No one wants to stand out by wearing a mask. “If it were really unsafe, wouldn’t everyone else wear one? Wouldn’t the authorities tell us to mask up?”

When I do convince others to wear masks, it’s usually a flimsy surgical one—barely adequate protection.

The personal cost of not wearing a Covid mask If we continue as we are, everyone will eventually develop long Covid. Those who still mask are only delaying the inevitable because we’re so outnumbered.

I know people who’ve lost friendships and family connections over masking. Others restrict their contact with loved ones to stay safe. Some have even been lied to by family members about masking.

And all because people must have brunch.

It feels grossly unfair to be forced to choose between family and health. For me, it’s not just about Covid. With a weakened immune system, other airborne viruses are just as harmful. Every cold or similar illness sets me back by months.

The fatalist in me whispers: stop masking. If no one else is wearing a mask, why fight it – just let long Covid take me. Every reinfection only worsens my condition.

A systemic failure The government—New Labour or otherwise—has shown little interest in preventing the spread of Covid or developing treatments for long Covid. The societal denial of this reality is overwhelming.

Until we build a society and government centred on community and care instead of selfish individualism, we’re doomed. Is thinking of others really too much to ask?

If only long Covid weren’t an invisible disability. If it caused something visible—like the loss of a limb—perhaps people would be forced to act.

The point of wearing a mask: not just for Covid Here’s why masking matters:

It reduces your viral load if you get infected.

It sets a good example for others.

It shows courage and strength.

It protects vulnerable people, including the disabled, chronically ill, and immunosuppressed.

It proves you have empathy and intelligence.

[benz12313]

🥺👉👈 ridoc who falls head over heels in love with violets twin who is autistic and he's an absolute sweetheart to her, and helps her when she needs something and protects her.

Also their dragons are mated and aotrom is very over protective of her.

I had so much fun writing this. I hope this was written well. As a parent of an autistic child (diagnosed) and as someone who suspects herself and her other child are AuDHD but in the process of getting diagnosed, I really tried to represent this well. I also think in the Fourth Wing universe, at least in Basgaith, many mental differences are shunned or looked down upon, so I went that angle with this fic. Please give me feedback on how I did with this request. I also have some ideas for a part two so let me know if you'd like that! Thank you for your request though! I had a lot of fun working on it. :)

Own Worst Enemy - Ridoc x Sorrengail!Reader

Warnings: violence, death, dragon mate possessive behaviour

Word Count: 4,274

I sat quietly next to Violet, as she interacted with her- our friends. As much as they assured me that I was just as included as her, I’d never really felt that way. I wasn’t like her. I didn’t know what to say, what to do? Always feeling a little bit lost when the group was together, like I was one step behind, too busy analyzing everyone to add my own input into conversations. Sometimes it felt like they only put up with me because I was Violet’s twin, and not nearly as breakable as her. 

I was good with schoolwork and okay with challenges, at least good enough to hold my own and take minimal injuries; and my joints are stronger than hers, not popping and breaking under pressure. Perks of being a fraternal twin I guess. Our DNA isn’t identical. No, something else in me feels broken. Something deeper. More substantial. Something I never talked about with anyone, ever. 

Violet has asked before, in my moments of weakness, when everything is too much and I can’t hide. But I always am able to reign it back in then, hide it all behind a smile and recite lines I know will appease her worry. After all, the mask I wear protects me, especially growing up in a family where weakness isn’t tolerated. Even Dad, who saw straight through me. He expected me to reign it in too. Taught me in his own ways how to know what to say, how to make people look away, how to breathe when it was too much. Yet he still expected me to conform, to act like everything was okay. Like I wasn’t broken and weak minded. 

I was a good actress at least. Everyone just thought I was quiet and reserved. And they never looked too hard at me, letting me fall into the background. I preferred it that way, it was much easier.

Everyone, except Ridoc Gamlyn, of course. He was always right there. In my space, but somehow, I never minded it. Maybe because with Ridoc, it didn’t matter what I said, he just accepted it. When I missed an unwritten social rule, he just smiled and responded, somehow getting what I was trying to say instead of harping on how I said it. He was annoying at times, always a bit loud, but he could say or do whatever he felt like with no reservations, easily breaking through my walls like no other could. Not even my own sister. I was honestly a bit jealous. 

Ridoc wouldn’t let me fade either, prodding me to talk with him while the others were occupied in their own conversations. His voice usually quieter in those moments when he was trying to get me to reconnect, asking the oddest questions about whatever I was working on. It worked though, making my mind settle as I answered whatever he’d asked me, the casual back and forth grounding me, easing my anxiety over messing up. 

He could see me. Really see me, like nobody ever had. It didn’t take me long to understand though, as I quickly became interested in trying to figure him out. Nobody really saw him either. Seeing what he wanted them to see. The loud, boisterous, sexually overconfident man he let everyone see wasn’t all of him. He didn’t let them see his worry over schoolwork, or over whatever current obstacle we were being thrown as new riders (currently the gauntlet) or his disappointment when a night of fun never became anything more, even if his conquest came back, it was never more than for another round. It was such a carefully crafted act that nobody thought to ask questions, nobody seeing that there was even an act to catch. 

Nobody could see. But I could. And he knew I could, giving me a knowing smile in his moments of weakness, but I never knew what to say to make it better. I don’t really think he wanted any sympathy, hence the mask that mirrored my own. He interested me though, so completely different than the others. Even though that’s what he wanted, I could never truly look away. Not when he’d become my biggest source of safety in this death college. 

Always pushing me on the mat, giving me pointers on how to improve. Walking with me when I needed a moment, my body feeling restless. Talk about my books, even the smutty ones, maybe especially the smutty ones. He’d grin and let me talk for hours, sitting on his bed in the men’s dormitory as we talked quietly. He’d glare at any of the other men who looked at us too long, daring them to say something. To make one move towards me. None ever did. And he always listened, asking questions that actually made me think, or that would lead me to another tangent.

Ridoc Gamlyn was an enigma I could barely understand, so I too hung around. Maybe it was the same for him. Maybe we were both just trying to figure the other out, never quite getting there. Never quite understanding. But accepting. Always accepting. 

“I think, maybe you could bounce back and forth up the chimney. Your joints aren’t as weak as Violet’s so if you get enough speed and momentum…” He trailed off, as he watched me nudge my sausage across my plate. “Y/N?”

I met his warm brown eyes for a moment before my eyes quickly returned to my plate, torturing my sausage again. “I get what you’re saying. It’s worth a try.” It was presentation day, and this was my last try after all. Violet had told me her plan, but it wouldn’t work for me. If both of us pushed the rules like that, then one of us would definitely be disqualified. It was her plan, so I told her I’d already found another way. Lied through my teeth, but she’d let it go so it must’ve been convincing enough. 

“C’mon, you’ll make it.” He assured, like there was no possibility I wouldn’t. “After all, my best friend isn’t a weakling.”

The twisting in my gut wasn’t unfamiliar, it happened every time he mentioned us as being friends. Why? I wasn’t quite sure, and it was one of the few things I refused to ruminate on. I refused any negative emotion when it came to Ridoc, too afraid to let anything take hold and then let the emotions push away my only solace in this place. 

“Yeah.” I sighed. Then forced a smile as I met his gaze again, holding it this time. “Just want it to be over with.” 

He smiled, moving some hair out of my face, the annoying strand of hair that always refused to stay in my crown of braids. “I know you do. And you’re gonna kick ass, and then in two days, we’re gonna get dragons and be certified badasses.” He sent me a big grin and I sighed, looking away to hide the smile blooming on my lips. I speared the sausage on my fork and plopped it in my mouth, finishing my breakfast. 

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t get rid of me that easy.” I joked and with a quick glance from the corner of my gaze I saw his smile widen. 

“Exactly Sorrengail. You’re stuck with me. Forever.” I laughed, before standing, Ridoc quickly following me. “Besides, I haven’t heard about the end of that dark romance you’ve been reading. It’s just started getting good. And I won’t have the patience to read it myself if you go and die on me.”

“Glad to see I have some use.” I snorted at him, my body relaxing the moment we’d gotten to the hall. The noise of the cafeteria fading the further we got from it. Finally, I could actually hear myself think now. 

“Oh don’t be like that! You’re smarter than Violet, and that’s saying something.” He said and I rolled my eyes. 

“No, I just watch more than she does. It’s easier to put things together when I don’t have to worry about holding a conversation at the same time.” I countered and he chuckled, pinching my side and making me squirm away. I still giggled against my will though. “Plus the photographic memory helps.” I snorted out another laugh when he poked me again. “Stop that!” 

“Okay. Okay.” He relented, giving me a goofy grin and shoving his hands in his pockets. I knew that was the only way he’d be able to not touch me as he tried to honor my wishes. Ridoc never really could seem to keep his hands to himself when he was near me. Especially when he was nervous. “Don’t discount yourself though. You’re brilliant. Own it.”

“Shut it Gamlyn. I’ve got enough to worry about.” I sighed, taking in his expression before bumping his shoulder with my own. “Don’t need to worry about me okay? I won’t die today.” 

The anxiety in his eyes faded, replaced with all consuming warmth as I was stuck in his gaze. He opened the door ahead of us, not saying a thing. 

Ridoc’s POV

I held the door for her, warmth pulling at me as her gaze never faltered. I believed her, after all, it wasn’t often that she lied to me. In fact, she was usually unabashedly honest with me. A fact I was grateful for. She hid herself from the rest of our friends, her sister, but couldn’t hide from me. 

Her brilliant mind fascinated me, she was amazing in her own unique ways. How the others couldn’t see it was beyond me. She was definitely the strongest, and smartest of us. I just wish they could see that, that she could see that, just once. She finally rolled her eyes, moving through the door as her cheeks went pink and my chest swelled with pride. 

She was beautiful, in every way, and I'd been hopelessly pining after her since that first night when we’d been assigned to the same squad. When she’d finally met my gaze with those pretty y/e/c eyes of hers, catching me in a trance as she looked through me. Past my confident facade, straight to my core, past all the bullshit I wore like armor. But then she didn’t call me out like most would have, just cocked an eyebrow at me, and looked away. Like it was some secret that she was electing to keep for me. 

I’d been practically begging for her attention since, especially after I’d figured out that she was pretending too. That she hid herself, afraid of the inevitable rejection too. But she didn’t play pranks, pretend to be stupid and refuse any feelings too painful to address. No she refused everyone, never letting anybody too close to be able to hurt her. Only letting the rest of our friends close enough to see what she deemed the useful parts of herself, but never close enough for them to really see her. But she let me. And I knew it was because she saw our similarities. 

I was broken from my thoughts when we made it to the gauntlet, and fear seized my heart. As quickly as it’d taken over, it was gone because Y/N shoved my shoulder with hers again, sending me a bright smile. 

“We’ve got this Ridoc.” It was simple, yet wholly convincing. 

“We’ve got this.” I repeated, squeezing my hands into fists in my pockets to keep them still. To keep them from pulling her into my arms, and never letting go. 

Y/N’s POV

I made it. I fucking made it! Shock seized me as Ridoc’s bellows rang in my ears, not quite hearing it even though his words echoed through me. His arms were wrapped tightly around me, spinning me around as he held me in a bone crushing grip. He set me back on the ground but didn’t let go, burying his head in my shoulder. 

“You made it.” He whispered, and I nodded, tears pricking in the corner of my eyes as emotion flooded through me. Everything was suddenly too much as I hid my face in his chest. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

“I made it.” I whispered back, squeezing him from where my arms were wrapped around his neck. 

We made it through presentation as well. Though several of the less savory of our squad couldn’t say the same for themselves. None of the dragons really stood out to me, a hollow feeling in my chest as I walked off the flight field. I won’t be chosen. I knew none of those dragons would choose me, deep in my soul. I didn’t say anything though, not until I was sitting criss-cross with my back leaning on his pillows and headboard as I watched him sharpening his sword, talking about needing to be ready for threshing. 

“Did you-“ I paused when he quieted and glanced up at me, “Did you feel any of their approval?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“The dragons?” He asked, putting down the stone in his hand and setting the sword to the side. Damn him, he must’ve noticed my shift in mood, deciding to focus on me completely now. I nodded. He thought a moment, his face shifting into contemplation, a look I couldn’t help but find so handsome. “Not really. There was those greens that crowded your sister. But I was terrified of them. Maybe that brown one, towards the end, that was annoying the others? Rolling all around them. He was funny. But I don’t know, none of them really jumped out at me.”

He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off that brown. I remember following behind him, watching him as he had softly chuckled at the dragons antics. For him to have brought it up again…maybe he was just lying to me, or himself, but he’d definitely had a connection to that dragon. My heart dropped. 

He must’ve seen it too because he sighed, before crawling over and wrapping his arms around me as he pulled me into his side, and I leaned my head on his chest. “You are gonna get a dragon tomorrow. I just know it. Maybe your dragon just isn’t sure about you yet.”

“Comforting.” I snorted, voice devoid of emotion.

“Look, I know I haven’t convinced you, and you’ll be thinking some awful things about yourself now.” He paused, sighing and looking unsure of himself as he tried to find the right words to soothe me. Failing, but he’s cute, trying like that. “Just trust that I know, more than I’ve known anything that you will get a dragon tomorrow. If any of us deserves one, it’s you.”

The raw honesty in his voice made my heart race, and despite myself, his words gave me an inkling of hope. Hope that he was right. That there really was a dragon out there who could accept me, despite my shortcomings. Hope that a dragon would find me worthy. 

“Thanks Ridoc.” I mumbled, and hoped that he’d hold me just a little longer as I worked to pull myself back together. 

He did. 

Ridoc’s POV

I wandered the woods, my mind occupied with Y/N and her show of weakness last night. She never let the facade fall that completely before, she was scared. More scared than she’d been for the gauntlet. Afraid a dragon wouldn’t want her. I frowned as I hid behind a tree as a red passed by. I knew that one wasn’t mine, but luckily it either hadn’t noticed me or decided to spare me instead. 

I’d felt a tug all afternoon as I wandered the forest, coaxing me further and further inwards, where I knew that brown was waiting. I’d meant what I said last night, it’d only been once I’d left my friends that I felt the tug. But Y/N had caught what I hadn’t last night, in that way that only she does, already knowing the brown had intended on choosing me. 

I finally started moving again, lost thinking about Y/N. Too lost to notice the forest shifting in front of me, until a deep male voice rang through my head, ‘Oh come on! You didn’t even notice me!” 

I jumped back two feet, suddenly seeing two large golden eyes staring at me from a large brown swordtail that was hanging from a particularly large tree. A tree that still looked like it was about to buckle under the weight of him. 

“S-sorry.” I stuttered out. 

The brown jumped from the tree, landing on the ground and sending me staggering from the shockwaves. ‘I suppose I’ll forgive you. Only cause you’re so worried about her. Call me Aotrom, I’ll give you my full name later. You’re mine now.’ He sniffed at me as he circled me, before settling in front of me again, looking proud of himself. 

“You mean Sorrengail? Y/N?” I specified, remembering Violet was out here too. 

The dragon made a sound, that sounded suspiciously like a snort. ‘Who else? Your mate of course.’ 

My body froze as my mouth fell open in shock. “She’s not! We’re not-“ I shook my head. “She’s my friend.”

He tilted his head, looking confused. ‘Oh? I thought…’ He sounded confused too, thinking, before his face lit up again, tail wagging back and forth. ‘I see! Eve did say she thought you two hadn’t acted on it yet when I shared my memories with her. I guess she’s right!’

My mind was swimming. This-my dragon, Aotrom, was unlike any other dragon we’d learned about. That was for sure. And he thought me and Y/N were mates??? “Who’s Eve?” I finally let the words out and the dragon puffed his chest out as he straightened with obvious pride. 

‘My mate of course.’

Y/N POV

I kept a hand over my mouth as an orange slinked by, sniffing the air. I willed my traitorous heart to slow, afraid that the nasty looking dragon would hear my heartbeats and try to eat me. Eventually he slinked out of view, and I let out a small breath as I continued on my way.

I still felt that hollowness. No pull anywhere as I wandered around aimlessly. I’d run into a dozen different dragons now, and felt nothing from any of them. 

I silently wondered if Ridoc had found that brown swordtail. I wondered if Rhi and Violet had found theirs too. If Sawyer would finally get his own. If I would be forced to repeat the year as well, and start over next year. 

I paused when I heard a rustling in the bushes, but before I could hide, one of the other cadets strode out. It was one that hung by Barlow, not in his inner circle but itching to move his way in and appease the cruel man. He was tall and fit, definitely a foot taller than me. I palmed my daggers as he stared at me, cruel grin forming as he looked me up and down. 

“The quiet Sorrengail twin.” He hissed and I glared. 

“Won’t earn you any points with Barlow killing me.” By sheer will my voice was strong. 

“Oh, but it will weaken her, and Barlow will approve of that if he hasn’t killed her by the end of the day.” My heart raced at his words as I steeled myself for the fight ahead of me. He wasn’t backing down now. 

He ran four steps raising his sword and was about to swing when air rushed around me, and then suddenly he was lifted off the ground, a giant scorpion tail sticking out his back and through his chest. With a flick of the tail his body flew behind me. 

But I was frozen in fear. Standing in front of me was a dragon, with navy blue scales and bright green eyes narrowed on me, assessing. Waiting for what my response would be. It’s tail moved slowly now, curling around its body, which gave me some hope that this dragon didn’t plan on killing me. Yet at least. 

“Thank you.” I whispered, lowering my gaze as my thoughts went wild. There weren’t supposed to be any blues out here today. 

‘I came because my mate wished to take a rider, that’s all.’ Her voice was majestic, beautiful and commanding, filling my head and making my eyes snap back to hers. She was talking to me…but that meant… ‘Yes, Strategist, I agree with my mate’s assessment. You are worthy of being mine, despite your worries. He may have been selfish, having chosen his own already, but he had assured me that you would do me proud young warrior. Now, climb on, before I change my mind.’

She chuffed out a puff of air in my face and I chose not to argue and climb atop the small blue dragon. She wasn’t the smallest of the ones we’d seen during presentation, but she definitely wasn’t the largest, I noted as I climbed on top of her. 

She grumbled. ‘I am only 21!’ She hissed out the words irritated with my…thoughts. Great she can read my mind. ‘I will grow with time! I’ll be bigger than Aunt Sgaeyl even! Just you watch!’

So don’t mention her size. Noted. Wait, Sgaeyl? Riorson’s dragon??? 

‘My name is Eventhasil, but you may refer to me as Eve.” Then she was launching into the air not a second after I had thoroughly settled into the seat, ignoring my mental question of her lineage. I gripped her tightly with my thighs, hanging on for dear life. Once she leveled out, not jostling me at all anymore, I was able to actually enjoy the wind flowing through my hair. Joy flooded me and tears welled up again. I was actually chosen. 

‘That is a habit we will have to kill with prejudice. Your doubt in yourself is sickening.’ Though her words were harsh, I think that was supposed to be encouraging. 

‘What about your mate?’ I asked, changing the subject. ‘What’s he like? Who has he chosen?’ It would be nice to know exactly which cadet I’m now tied to for the rest of my life.

‘He approaches.’ She says simply, her voice going quiet as she speeds up, forcing me to hold tighter as a brown tried to catch up. Were they…racing? ‘Yes, and if Aotrom wins he’ll be insufferable. Hold tight.’ Determination laced her tone as she tightened her movements racing towards the flight field at top speed, easily outflying the brown as she flung her wings out at the last minute, landing quickly. I was nearly flung from my seat with the maneuver, but with luck and my muscles locking, I was able to hold on. The brown landed thirty seconds later, towering over Eve as he snapped at her face playfully. She snapped back at him, narrowly missing his neck as her tail swung behind us. 

But then another dragon landed on her other side and the brown lurched forward, growling low in his throat as he eyed the other male, his swordtail curling around Eve protectively.

She, however, sat calmly amidst his display of possessiveness. Almost…bored? 

‘Overpossessive male.’ She explained, irritation lacing her tone. ‘Male dragons are known to be volatile towards any potential threats in the first few years of establishing a mate bond. And Aotrom is very…determined to keep me as his.’ An obvious affection was laced in her last words. The other male backed away, submitting to Aotrom’s dominance and claim, eyes and head down as he moved out of range. Only when the male had moved a sufficient distance away and Aotrom relaxed, turning to his mate again did I see his rider. Ridoc. Holy shit! Ridoc!

Happiness bubbled within me. There was no one better to be tied to! Holy shit. And he looked unharmed, thank the gods. 

‘Go speak with him.’ Eve somehow sounded…teasing? ‘He’s relieved that Aotrom had told the truth when he told him that you were safe. As if I’d ever let harm come to what’s mine.’ She snorted at the last sentence and I laughed. 

‘I’m glad he’s okay too.’ I sent her way as I climbed down. 

The moment my feet hit the ground they lifted again, as Ridoc’s arms wrapped around me and swung me around. “We both got dragons! We’re both riders!” His voice was full of joy as he put me on my feet again. “We made it Y/N! We made it!” His hands moved to my cheeks, and I was frozen as euphoria took over his gaze, and then in a split second, his mouth was on mine. 

Moving, kissing, me. I slowly moved back holding onto the moment as my heart burst. My crush was kissing me. Tongue slipping into my mouth as he pulled me to him, pine and male and Ridoc taking over my senses completely as I lost myself in him. 

This moment was perfection. 

And then it was ruined, by Sawyer calling our names, obviously not able to really see us yet. Ridoc jumped back, looking panicked and my heart lurched. Did he not mean to do that? His eyes scanned mine as he backed up. 

“Talk later?” He asked, and I froze. He froze too, hands hovering over my waist. “Y/N? Talk later yeah?” 

I nodded, words catching in my throat as Eve growled in my mind. But she said nothing. 

“Yeah.” I whispered, putting on a smile as our friend greeted us. 

~ I'm taking requests as well, just submit them to my inbox and I'll get to them when I have time.

~ Want to be added to the tag list? Just comment or message me! :)

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @uneducatedraccoon @nicksolemnlyswears @binksbrewcrew

[starsjulia]

not built for this // part two

a/n : thank you for all the love on the last one, you can read part one here, enjoy my lovelies! i’m also thinking about making a final and third part so if that’s something you’d like to see please do let me know, my inbox is always open!!

warnings : bullying, cyber bullying.

“Bet she only got that score ‘cause she’s autistic.”

“Yeah, isn’t she meant to be, like, thick?”

“Nah, she’s prolly just revises cus she can’t do nothing else”

Your stomach twists. You stare down at your English test, the red-inked “9” in the corner blurring in your vision. You should be happy. You were happy. Or at least you had been for the five minutes before the results were handed out to the rest of the class.

Someone snickers. “Neek.”

Your grip on your pen tightens.

“She probably sits there memorizing dictionaries or some shit—”

”—Or maybe her mum paid for her grade.”

A crumpled piece of paper hits the back of your head. You exhale sharply through your nose, forcing yourself to stay still. If you turn around, if you look at them, you know you’ll either scream or burst into tears.

You’re not going to cry in front of them.

Not again.

⸻

At break, you don’t even bother trying to sit with anyone. You go straight to the toilets, locking yourself in a cubicle, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor.

Your phone buzzes.

Mum.

You exhale shakily before pressing call.

“Hey, love. Everything okay?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. The walls feel like they’re closing in.

“Can you pick me up?” Your voice cracks.

Leah sighs on the other end. “What happened now?”

“Mum, please.” You clench your jaw, willing yourself not to cry.

Leah hesitates. “My love i’m at training, what do you want me to do?”

Silence.

A sharp knock on the cubicle door makes you jump.

“Oi, you in there?” A voice outside sneers. “Hiding again, are we?”

Your throat tightens.

“I have to go.” You end the call before Leah can respond.

⸻

Third period is even worse.

You try your hardest to focus, really, you do. You keep your head down, do the work, but it doesn’t matter.

Halfway through the lesson, you use your timeout card to leave. You just need a second to breathe. But when you come back, something feels off.

Your bag.

You reach inside and…

Your pencil case is gone. So is a revision guide.

Instead, there’s an empty crisp packet and some scrunched-up tissue.

Your hands tremble.

“Everything okay?” the teacher asks.

No.

No, everything is not okay.

But you don’t say anything. You just clench your fists, sit down, and stare blankly at the board.

The girls behind you giggle.

⸻

By the time you get home, you feel like you’re going to burst.

You throw your bag down, heading straight for the kitchen where Leah is sorting Jamie’s school things.

“Mum, I got a nine on my English test.”

Leah turns, her expression softening. “Did you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Leah’s smile is genuine. “That’s amazing, hun. I knew you could do it.” She pulls you into a hug. You hold on tightly.

For a moment, everything feels okay.

Then your phone buzzes. Again.

Leah frowns. “That thing’s been going off all day.”

“It’s nothing.” You shove it in your pocket.

Jamie, sitting at the kitchen table, raises a brow. “Who even texts you that much?”

“Shut up, Jamie.”

Leah folds her arms. “It’s not like—” She hesitates. “I just mean, that’s a lot of notifications.”

“It’s fine.”

Leah studies you for a second but doesn’t push.

Later, when you’re in the shower, she walks past the kitchen counter where your phone sits, screen lighting up over and over again. Her stomach tightens.

She glances up the stairs, making sure you’re still in the bathroom.

Then she picks it up.

And unlocks it.

The first thing she sees is a group chat.

She clicks on it.

Her stomach drops.

⸻

Screenshots. Photos. Messages.

Leah scrolls, her hands shaking.

“How is ur mum so hot but ur so ugly??”

“bet u can’t even make eye contact reading this lmao”

“Why doesn’t ur mum just send u to a sped school?? No one wants u here”

“Nice lanyard you weirdo”

Her breath catches in her throat.

She keeps scrolling.

Texts from unknown numbers.

More abuse. More hate.

Her pulse pounds in her ears.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until a tear drips onto the screen.

Then the bathroom door opens.

You walk out, hair damp, and freeze when you see her standing there, phone clutched in her hand, face pale with fury.

“(Y/N)…what the fuck is this?”

Your blood runs cold. “Mum—”

“How long has this been going on?”

Silence.

“how long?”

You swallow hard. “A while.”

“And you didn’t TELL me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It really does matter!”

You look away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Leah stares at you, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m calling the school.”

⸻

The meeting is tense.

Leah sits across from the headteacher and your head of year, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles turn white.

She slams the phone onto the table. “Explain this.”

The headteacher shifts uncomfortably. “Miss Williamson—”

“She told you she was being bullied. I told you. you know dam well that my daughter comes into this office almost everyday because your classrooms are unbearable for her. And you did NOTHING.”

“We were handling—”

“Handling it?!” Leah’s voice cracks. “Are you fucking joking?”

You shrink in your seat, your face burning.

The headteacher clears his throat. “Miss Williamson, we understand you’re upset, but—”

“You don’t understand SHIT.” Leah’s hands tremble. “She’s not coming back here. Ever.”

Your breath hitches. “Mum….”

“No.” Leah turns to you, eyes softening. “I should’ve done this a long time ago, love.”

You look down, blinking rapidly. “I can handle it.”

Leah exhales sharply. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.”

You bite your lip. “I know I’m not easy….”

“Don’t you ever say that.” Leah’s voice breaks. “I love you more than anything. Do you hear me?”

You sniffle. “Yeah.”

Leah pulls you into a hug.

“You’re coming home. And we’re going to figure this out, alright?”

⸻

Later that night, Beth comes over.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls you into the warmest hug you’ve ever felt.

“You know you’re perfect, right?” she murmurs.

You let out a weak laugh. “Doubt it.”

Beth nudges you. “They’re just jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “Doubt that too.”

Beth squeezes your hand. “Well, I don’t.”

For the first time in forever, you believe her.

And for the first time in forever—

You feel safe.

⸻

[nemesis-writer]

[Unwanted Ransom(Chapter 4)]

Glided Lily Masterlist TW- mentions of the movie Jersey Girl

9 years ago...

I was going to a pool party for my friend's birthday, but little did I know there was someone else that was gonna be there. I bought him some new sneakers he wanted because he never shut up about them. And since, I had hand me downs, I sold them to earn enough money for the sneakers.

By the time I reached the party Daniel, the friend, approached me saying, "Hey, Xerxes thanks for coming, I thought that you were a bit too busy for this."

"Fuck nah men, I wouldn't miss this for the world." I admitted.

Everything was going smoothly until I saw a person, I thought I would never see again...

Damian.

"What the hell are you doing here, freak?" He shouted at me.

"He is my friend what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You have no friends, dipshit."

"You have no mom dumbass."

Before I had time to know what I said, a fist came toward my face. Luckily I missed it, and responded with an uppercut to his cheek. Finally a taste of his own medicine, too say I was proud of me was an understatement. Until I heard,

"Ms. WAYNE".

Fucking cocksucker had to ruin this day. I felt Mr Wayne grab me by the collar and escorted me out of the party. Dennis muttered a 'sorry', but no one was allowed to do anything, so I couldn't ask for help.

At home...

"Ms Wayne what were you thinking!?"

"Before you continue, it's Ms Amala."

"Don't you give me that tone."

"You don't even know my name, you just call me be your last name just with a Ms."

"You attacked your brother"

"My 'brother' slashed me in my fucking arm and you didn't do shit."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch to him he wouldn't have."

"I HATE YOU I WISH MOM NEVER MET YOU!!! "

"SO DO I YOU LITTLE SHIT, YOU AND YOUR MOM RUINED MY LIFE."

"Go fuck yourself."

With that I ran to my 'bedroom', and no words were ever exchanged between me and both Bruce and Damian. I never gave them the satisfaction of looking at them, or even apologising.

Damian oddly, left me alone, well it sends a message to any bitch in school. I didn't care for their approval, I stopped when I was 7, feeling like it was pointless to care about them.

It never though, stopped me from joining competitions. I won multiple gold trophies, certificates, medals, even participation awards. I have 3 binders full of my achievements, containing pictures with the president of music, and the presidents of the sports I had joined.

But I kept a scrap-book of all my birthdays celebrated either by Alfred, or my friends. I was grateful, but it always felt like a pity-party, I always was the Wayne outcast but the more I say that, people would think I care.

Present Time.

"Xerxes?"

"Nope, nuh uh, wrong person." I reached for Morgan only for my arm to be grabbed by Jason again.

"What the fuck happened to you! I thought you were dead."

"Xerxes Wayne is dead, you can either address me as Jinx, Jennifer, or Ms Stark."

"Xerxes-"

I raised my eyebrows and cleared my throat at the rage of hearing a name, that was made to be neglected.

"Jennifer, we have been looking for you."

"Oh please"

"Bruce and Damian found your old trophies."

"I thought I told Alfred too clean up."

"The point is we miss you."

"You left me to rot with those people, the point is, now I have a life. You guys never cared about me, I was almost sent to military school for defending some autistic kid."

"Princess, I-"

"No, that ship sailed a long time ago" I ran to Morgan and carried her to our limousine, I never looked at Jason because even though he was the one that actually brought a bit of life to that place, he left us alone.

For now...

At the Wayne Manor...

Jason's POV

"Father we've got to bring her back, she is with the enemy."

"Damian, let's calm ourselves-"

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE CALM!!!"

"We are gonna bring her back soon Damian."

"She's not gonna come back", was all I could let out. I could feel the pointed glares of everyone, even demon spawn's stare pierced.

"What do you mean? She's our family, look at us who wouldn't want this?" Dick asked me, holding his veneer pride, but truly masking guilt and confusion.

"We weren't there for her, she left us when she had a chance." I was irritated to admit it, but it was true, our little bird flew the nest and we were to negligent to realise it.

"We have to bring her back, right?" Tim, was obviously the most idiotic out of all of us, because he decides to think we are picture perfect.

"We can't live on false hope Tim." I screamed with all emotions just completely bursting forth.

"WE WILL BRING OUR SISTER BACK!!!" and with hearing that, I immediately punched Damian, to be honest, a bit too hard for my liking. The demon did deserve it, depending on how you ask.

"Jason, calm down, she'll come to her senses and come back." hearing Bruce say that, before I react I felt something sharp pierce my neck, and slowly I lost consciousness, when I turned around I saw Cassandra murmur, 'sorry'.

Then everything became black

Taglist....

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz

[magical-reid]

Unspoken Symphonies

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Autistic!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 900

Prompts: 1: “I just cant see myself ever living without you.” 

24: “I don’t care what others say, I want to be with you and that’s all that matters to me.” 

Summary: In the BAU bullpen, Spencer is captivated by your presence, his attention fixated on you as you effortlessly point out the small distractions around him, forging a quiet but intimate bond. Despite the team's skepticism about your unconventional relationship, Spencer defends the unique connection you share, realizing that understanding each other is more than enough to make it work.

WARNING(?): I really tried my best to appropriately portray an autistic reader, however, if anyone finds that I didn't handle this situation appropriately for whatever reason, or if anyone is uncomfortable with how I portrayed the autistic reader, let me know and I will take this down. If anyone would like to better inform me on how to better write for an autistic reader I will take any tips happily.

The bullpen hummed with the quiet murmur of the BAU. Keyboards clicked, files shuffled, and the faint aroma of coffee mingled with the scent of printer ink. Yet, for Spencer, the center of his universe wasn’t the case files scattered across his desk or the faint sound of Morgan’s teasing laughter in the distance. It was you—perched on the edge of his desk, legs swinging idly, your gaze fixed on the ceiling as you traced invisible patterns with your fingertips.

“Hey, genius,” you said softly, tilting your head to glance at him. “You’re staring.”

Spencer flushed, tearing his gaze away and pushing up his glasses. “Sorry, I just—your observations always fascinate me. What are you thinking about?”

“The light,” you said simply. “It’s flickering. Almost imperceptibly, but it’s distracting.” You pointed upward, your movements deliberate and precise. “Doesn’t that drive you crazy?”

He followed your finger, squinting at the offending fluorescent bulb. “Oh, now I can’t unsee it,” he said with a sheepish smile, leaning forward. “But no, it doesn’t bother me as much as it seems to bother you.”

“Lucky you.” You shrugged, lowering your hand. “It’s not just the light, though. The air conditioning vents are whistling again, and Morgan has been tapping his pen against his desk for the last five minutes.”

Spencer’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. “And you’re still managing to sit here with me?”

“Of course.” You turned to him fully now, your tone earnest and direct. “Because you’re here.”

His heart swelled at the simplicity of your statement, but before he could respond, Emily approached, arms crossed and brow arched.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, her tone teasing but laced with curiosity.

Spencer straightened in his chair, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of a file. “No, not at all. We were just—”

“Talking,” you interjected, your voice level. “Is that not allowed?”

Emily blinked, slightly taken aback, before recovering with a grin. “Of course it is. Just don’t let Hotch catch you slacking, okay?”

You nodded, your expression neutral but your fingers drumming rhythmically against the desk. Once Emily walked away, you leaned closer to Spencer. “They think we’re weird, don’t they?”

Spencer hesitated. He wanted to deny it, to shield you from the judgments of others, but you were too perceptive for that. “They… don’t understand,” he admitted finally. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” Your voice softened, your eyes searching his. “It doesn’t bother you when they look at us like we’re… not normal?”

Spencer frowned, reaching out to brush his fingers against yours, an unspoken reassurance in the gesture. “Normal is subjective,” he said gently. “Besides, I don’t care what others say. I want to be with you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Your gaze lingered on his, unblinking. The world around you seemed to fade—the whirring air conditioner, the tap of Morgan’s pen, the low hum of office chatter. It was just the two of you, cocooned in your own space.

“I just can’t see myself ever living without you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of absolute certainty.

The words hit Spencer with a force he hadn’t anticipated, stealing his breath and grounding him all at once. He tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You won’t have to,” he promised.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

(Later That Evening)

The team’s skepticism had been a silent undercurrent for months now. Conversations would lull whenever you entered a room, and Spencer could feel the weight of their glances. But tonight, as the team gathered at Rossi’s for dinner, the unease was almost palpable.

“Spence,” JJ began cautiously, her tone gentle but probing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said, though he already suspected the question.

“It’s just… you and Y/N. You’re so different. Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly, “you seem happy. It’s just… it’s not what we expected.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, his voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.

JJ hesitated, searching for the right words. “I think we just don’t… understand your dynamic. You’re so—analytical. And Y/N is so—”

“Direct?” Spencer supplied. “Blunt? Honest? Those aren’t bad things, JJ. They’re part of why I love them.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” JJ said quickly. “It’s just… different.”

Spencer leaned back, his expression softening as he glanced across the room to where you were chatting with Rossi about a book you’d both recently read. “Different doesn’t mean wrong. We might not fit into the conventional mold, but we understand each other. That’s more than enough for me.”

JJ smiled faintly, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “Fair enough.”

As the evening wore on, the team began to see it—how you instinctively leaned closer when Spencer rambled, grounding him with a single touch. How he adjusted his pace to match yours, always attuned to your needs. And how, despite their initial doubts, it was clear that you and Spencer had created a language all your own.

In the quiet moments, you and Spencer didn’t need words. The world didn’t have to understand your connection, because the two of you had already found something far more valuable—a love that fit, in all its imperfect perfection.

[luftwfflesyummyyum]

Dear Reichblr, I am here today to expose the following reichblr/reichtwt server on discord called Reich Fandom. They are racist, negative and are hating on reincarnations. But anyways, enough of my chatting and let’s get into the screenshots.

1.Reincarnation:

For the reincarnation part; as you know, in this fandom there are people saying that they are reincarnations, and I can understand that someone might not believe them and think of them as liars. But this doesn’t justify you from insulting or making fun of them, if you have mean words to say, keep them to yourself.

Saying that these people who believe they are reincarnations of certain people is a “mental illness” is not funny. Although it might be seen as a delusion, reincarnation is also a spiritual belief and if it's not harming them then there is nothing wrong with it.

“Fatherless behavior”, is such a childish thing to say, and the people saying this are 17-18+ but act like babies. If you didn’t know, there are people who really don’t have a father, for different reasons. So think twice before writing these things because you could lose your father as well.

If you were informed you would know that when some autistic people feel extremely uncomfortable or overwhelmed, they could respond aggressively because they might struggle with emotional regulation, difficulty expressing their discomfort in other ways or sensory overload. And saying “it makes me want to cyberbully them more” is very dumb thing to say because if someone cyberbullied you, i don’t think you would be so happy.

2.Cyberbullying:

Since we were talking about cyberbullying, let’s show other screens, shall we? They insult this person only because they are doing what everyone normally does with their social media accs: post what they like. And they insult people who ship countryhumans, and like, these people aren’t hurting you in any way so why make fun of them?

They banned a person because she is a therian and started making fun of her, even though she wasn't there to defend herself.

3. Racism:

There isn’t much to say, let me just show you the screenshots

Calling someone a Jew, even though one of the server rules explicitly prohibits extremist comments?How contradictory.

Also sending racist memes, as you can see in two of them there is also the KKK which is a racist hate group that promotes white supremacy.

and this is a symbol used by neo-nazis.

Please reblog this to keep the fandom a safe place.

[aloeverified]

i love all of @gin-juice-tonic's trans stan twins comics and i've centered all my gf beliefs around them, but i can't stop thinking about how funny it would be for stan to be a trans man and ford to be a trans woman.

imagine you're stan and you've been disowned for about ten years and haven't seen your family at all since, and during that time you've found and lost yourself more times than you can count, but you've finally settled on the fact that you're a man and it's time for you to transition. and then as soon as can finally start testosterone, your twin brother wants to see you ASAP.

and so you're stressed out the entire way there, not just because your brother seems to have gotten into some trouble, but because you have no clue how he's gonna react to you now being his brother.

only for him to not even notice or say a single thing about your new wardrobe that still has some of the tags from when you shoplifted it or about the scruff on your chin that you've been pretty proud of.

no, instead he's going on about the fbi and people who want to steal his skin or something.

and so everything happens the same way, and stan has essentially gotten the life he's always wanted: everyone thinks he's his genius brother, he's still in contact with his family (though stanford didn't exactly call home everyday so neither does he), and he's a man — and not one person doubts it. except he's not the man he's always wanted to be because he doesn't have his brother beside him throughout it all, becoming a man with him.

and then stanford comes back and is impossibly autistic and bitter so he just assumes stan went through the process of transition (assuming he used some gender changing potion he found noted about in the journal) just to further steal ford's identity.

and stan explains, no, you fucking idiot, i've been a man for thirty-something odd years and you just didn't notice because you were too busy being insane. and so yeah, that's how stan's whole coming out goes.

and ford just responds with, "oh. yeah, me too. she/they is fine."

[elisabethdeep-blog]

Gotta make a post about my best DunMeshi neurospicy boi

Lotta content out there about Laios' autistic traits but where o where is the Senshi rep?

Senshi's dedication to Dungeon trophic systems makes Laios' special interest look like a well-thumbed pamphlet. (Granted Senshi has had significantly longer to cook; Laios is a baby).

Senshi's limited emoting is baked-in to his character model- that thousand yard stare, most of his face occluded by his habitual helmet (masked, even...... How many folks pine for covid masks obviating the need to manage their faces constantly?)

He overheard someone mention his special interest and Walked Right Up to a Group of Strangers to brazenly asplain them a thing. Marcille makes a bridge-mending bid regarding the mosses in the scorpion hotpot (after her previous truculent outbursts) and he totally deadpans her, because he didn't even notice.

He is VERY COMMITED to his ethical position on dungeon ecology. More than once he's disrupted Marcille Right at the point of release of a spell, after she's been chanting for like a paragraph, because she's going to contravene some principle of his.

Also

Speaking of Marcille, he demonstrates some pretty rigid, black-and-white thinking around magic, that doesn't seem internally consistent. He's repeatedly reanimating magical constructs (golems), an explicitly controlled magical act, but is Very Very reluctant to submit to being charmed with WaterWalk; his spoken reasoning about this just doesn't hold water.

Oh and he's totally neglected his personal hygiene for basically ever. He's averse to cleaning up for the sake of being bespelled, but other than magic, seems fine with getting the salon treatment. This isn't a Toph Beifong 'protective layer of earth', he's just forgotten to care about not being covered with monster gore.

PDA? The fellow has one (1) social skill, namely, he exercises any discretion on opening his mouth to argue. But that holds him back exactly NONE when he decides he's done listening. The first time we see this is gathering Mandrakes, when he doesn't SAY he's done with Marcille's opinions, but he Does just go ahead and exercise his damn autonomy. a MUCH stronger example is when Chilchuck is guiding them through the trap rooms. Senshi gets roundly (and rightly!) chewed out by Chilchuck, and his response isn't the sensible 'sorry Chilchuck, maybe I could walk more directly behind you so I can more closely match your steps', but to BRAZENLY DANCE ALL OVER THE TRAP FLOOR! the only reason that doesn't kill the whole party is The Plot. It's not even that he doesn't appreciate Chilchuck's skill- he just don't like getting chastised! Same with Anne the Kelpie! Senshi's gonna do what Senshi's gonna do! He WILL not be rushed, he WILL not be chastised, he WILL not be directed! How do we think he came to be living in a dungeon all by himself in the first place!!

AND THE BREAD!

THIS IS NOT THE DEMAND OF A NEUROTYPICAL DWARF

Look there's more. After Chilchuck's impassioned and heartfelt plea, Senshi suggests they should return to the surface because they're 'low on seasoning'.

He's a dwarf who turned his adamantium shield into a cookpot.

He can meticulously maintain his mithril cooking knife but not his axe.

He responds well to other characters meeting him halfway but initiates few (no?) such bids himself. There's rarely any guile in Senshi, and when he is being shifty, he's Bad At It- and again, usually its in service of demand avoidance, like when he capitalises on Marcille's toilet break to reanimate his golems.

Senshi is the monomaniac that society has spent Decades trying to iron out of my wrinkly brain.

I hope to see him also find a place in the neurosparkly constellations.

[peachycat17]

Alhaitham x autistic reader

🎐- fluff

She was developing feelings towards him, tho she doesn't know if he is interested in that

You kinda start to feel Alhaitham is kinda nice to you, which shouldn't be weird, but he doesn't care if people like him nor he exhaust himself to appear kind

Yet when theres too much noise, he suddenly offers you to go to another place, which he benefits of course, but the fact that he can just use his earphones and can just go away alone, makes you feel like he also want to help you, because he doesn't invite the others, just you

When you have to search for certain book, he always appears near you and start to question you which book, if is for recreation or for studies, in the end after finding the book he says "I was just making my job/this way is more efficient"

When the others come along, often Kaveh is complaining about a client, or Cyno is finally explaining past week case, there are parts you dont understand or maybe just didnt really hear clearly, but asking them to repeat themself again in again, felt like they probably will get mad, and you pray your face doesn't reveal that, but suddenly Alhaitham ask them to repeat that or he says the same thing in others words, and you finally get what Cyno or Kaveh meant

He also points out things that you like or have been mentioned during the week in the markets

Yet he never do anything "romantically", Kaveh often complaints about him not been able to find someone to like him, and Alhaitham just respond "that's sound nice actually"

What would he say if you tell him you find his presence comforting, that the way he explains things is fascinating even if you didn't understand, that when you visited Aaru Village with the whole group, the way he gifted various book to all the children he saw, was beautiful

Even he was beautiful

Now is when you realize you do like him, often taking a long time to know what are you feeling often

Surprisingly when you enter Puspa Cafe, is exactly where he is at, reading a book as always

You manage courage and go to him, you two start to talk, not much tho, just how was your day and what book was he reading, then a comfortable silence

Both were in silence yet happy, maybe he feel it too

"Alhaitham, what do you think of romantic feelings"

"They are not logical, always without control"

"Is okay if someone have them towards you?"

He looks at you

"They cant make them disappear...

"But I cant ignore mine either"

"And now that we both feel that way... We probably will have to give them a test"

❇🍀📚

Yeah, finally came out decent, so this is my first trying this thing out, and I hope it come out good😋💕

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hi!! I have a one shot request (I hope I’m in the right place lmao)

What about a autistic (fem)reader who is super smart and seems to notice things about the case that the others haven’t and every time she tries to state her thoughts a rude sherif cuts her off/infantilising her and Emily defends her

Honestly my brain stopped at the thought of Emily, I need more of her 😔🫶

-anon ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

fem plus size autistic!reader, wc: 517.

a/n: i have had this finished but sitting in my drafts because i was too lazy to post it, but here it is! i hope that i was able to capture what you were looking for right! :] this can either be read as platonic or romantic!

cw! asshole elders :/

You have been spoken over and shut down for the past hour, twenty minutes, and thirty seconds. 

You hated being silenced, but one thing that trumps that was being infantilized. You worked hard to get where you were now, and you hated being treated like a child just because your way of thinking was different from your peers. 

You have saved thousands of people and you’ll be damned if you continue to be treated like this.

“If you look closely, you can see that the area that these women were killed in must hold some kind of sentimental meaning to our unsub.” You grab the black marker and go to draw the inevitable triangle on the printed out map before you’re stopped by the sheriff.

 “Hold it now, sweetheart. Don’t just go markin’ up stuff.”

“I beg your pardon?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m sure the area these women were killed in was just pure coincidence, so we don’t wanna risk coloring in the paper just ‘cause you think you know somethin’.” He spoke as if he knew more than you did like he was the one with the degree, his tone absolutely rolling in condescension. 

“I’m sorry but –” You try to say but the old fart cuts you off. “I’m sure you are –”

“Excuse me, sheriff, but I’m afraid Special Agent _______ made a great point.” Emily was quick to come to your aide, emphasizing the words ‘Special Agent�� just to reinforce her point.

You could see it in her narrowed eyes, and everyone else’s really, that she was about done with the Sheriff’s embarrassingly large ego. You send her an appreciative – albeit shy – smile, and she gets up, her eyes trained on the map as well. 

“She’s right, because if you look here,” She points to the first crime scene and motions for you to draw a mark. “And here,” Her finger trails down to the second location and you follow close behind. “And here.” Her path finally ends, and so does your black ink. 

There it was, just like you had first thought, a perfect triangle connecting them all.

“The most important thing should be right –” You finish her words and color in a big circle in the middle. “Here.” Emily sends you a proud look and it threatens to weaken your knees.

“I mean… I suppose that makes sense.” The man grumbled before leaving with his tail between his legs. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly. The conversation was meant to be kept between the two of you. Of course you loved and trusted everyone on your team, but Emily was your comfort person, and she made time to understand you.

“No problem,” She responds back. “Everyone was done with his shit anyway.”

“Still, thank you.” You pressed the conversation, because you don’t really think she realized the gravity of the situation, of your appreciation. 

For most of your life you had never been given a voice, and having someone stick up for you and even paving the way for you to make your point known was something that no gratitude could give.

[spacecowboyy0]

autistic reader upset over their clothes and trying to explain to bucky and nat but their words they are trying to say arent coming out so they just start sobbing hoping they understand

summary: autistic reader has a breakdown then has a nice bath and falls asleep nice and cozy!

notes: since anon didn't mention age reg. i didn't include it but made it general enough that it could be viewed as little!reader, obviously angsty, mentions of scratching arms and pulling hair while in distress

550 words

You drop to the floor, landing painfully on your knees, but you're so distressed it doesn't faze you. You're aware of Bucky beside you, and you think you can hear Natasha rushing towards the two of you.

You pull at your clothes and then switch to pulling your hair and scratching your arms. Everything is a blur. You don't hear your heavy sobs, nor the worried discussion between your caregivers.

"Hey bug, how can we help you, hm?"

You can't speak, your overstimulated mind can't form coherent words, only groans and miserable whines leave your mouth. You tug at your clothes more, hoping they get the message. It seems that it works.

"Ok I'm going to pull off your shirt, love." Hands take your shirt over your head. "Next I'm going to take your pants off." You shriek as your pants scrape against your legs as they come off, and your hands find themselves in your hair.

Your breathing is fast and inconsistent, but your tears stop and your mind slows down. You stay on the floor curled into yourself, trying to come down from the rush of emotions. You recognize the presence of Bucky and Nat nearby, they're silent but you know they're there.

"Mama?"

"Hey baby, I'm here. Papa's beside me too." You release a pained whine, instead of what you had hoped to be something intelligible. Maybe you're not totally recovered.

They don't speak until you sit up, not looking at them but at the floor.

"Bath?" A nice warm bath seemed nice, you’re starting to get cold without your clothes and without the adrenaline.

"Yeah sweetheart, we can do that." Bucky responds to you. He'd normally ask you who you wanted to help you bathe, but he knows that questions are too hard for you in this headspace. "How about Mama helps you with the bath and I'll warm up some food, okay?"

You nod, and look towards Natasha, not meeting her eyes but checking to see that she's there. She holds her hand out to you, and you accept it. Your legs are shaky as you get up, taking your time to stand.

You walk slowly to the bathroom and wait as Nat fills up the tub and gets your towel and cozy clothes. When there's enough water, Nat helps you step into the bath, and then she sits on the floor beside the tub, reading a book.

You lean into the water, submerging yourself until only your face is dry. You take deep breaths, relaxing your muscles into the soothing warmth. You realize how tired and hungry you are. Crying that much, and experiencing emotions that intense took a lot out of you.

~

When you get out of the bath, Nat dresses you in fuzzy pyjamas and cozy socks. She carries you into the living room where Bucky has set up food on the coffee table and put on a comforting show. He wraps you in a blanket when Nat sets you down on the couch.

You're silent as he feeds you, glazed eyes watching the tv. You start to nod off after 20 minutes and Bucky carries you to bed. They tuck you in, and your stuffie is placed in your arms. After two kisses on your forehead, you doze off almost immediately.

[theorahsart]

I'm updating again on the whole 'Peter Mcfee emailing me' thing, because: he asked why I was interested in Frev/Robespierre, and I decided to be completely honest/possibly look like a fool, and explain in detail my opinions on Robespierre possibly being autistic, alongside my personal experiences as queer person living in a time of upheaval.

Much to my surprise and delight, Peter has replied with so many interesting things to say!

He said he's very interested in the autism hypothesis, because his grandson is autistic. He has a historian friend who's "a great authority on portraits of Robespierre" (Marianne Gilchrist, I haven't heard of this person) who apparently also strongly believes in the idea of Robespierre being autistic. He linked to their bluesky account, so maybe I should try get in contact one day to have some more interesting discussions~

In his words on his personal opinion on the topic: "I’m not so sure but in any case, I think that many/most people who are passionate and brilliant about something are somewhere ‘on the spectrum’."

Because I mentioned my books being banned as another reason for being interested in Frev, he had this to say, which I also found very interesting (I dont know how to rephrase it, so just gonna copy n paste):

"I guess one of the banned books was your memoir on asexuality and that made me think of the advising I’m doing for a PhD student in Turin. She’s particularly interested in Robespierre’s distinctive masculinity, which was responded to in such polarised fashion among men and women. One key dimension of that was his sexuality and probable celibacy and why that might have been the case."

[siswritesyanderes]

i mightve asked this before, in which case go ahead and ignore this lmao. which characters would be the best vs worst when handling an autistic darling?

Oooh, this is a cool question! I would say it depends on the particular symptoms the person has, so I'll go over some symptoms and which yanderes would respond best vs. worst.

avoidance of eye-contact

Obviously, shy, autistic, or autistic-coded yanderes would work really well with this (and other) symptom(s). Your Donatello's, your Newt's, arguably your Peter Parker's. Also, yanderes who are able to sense when their darling's attention is on them supernaturally or just out of sheer social aplomb. Elves, for example, would be great with someone who doesn't like eye contact, because their body language conventions differ as a result of being able to communicate mentally.

Roxanne Wolf would be distinctly bad for this, based on her need for attention as demonstrated in Help Wanted 2. But she's also not beyond reason when it matters, as we've seen in Ruin DLC, so I'm sure communicating about it is on the table.

sensory reactivity

Okay, I think Dr. Strange would very specifically be bad for this, because his movies are all swirling kaleidoscopes of magic that would definitely be sensory overload in real life, and I have mentioned before that I don't see him as a considerate yandere. If anything, he might enjoy inducing sensory overload for the express purposes of making his darling require comfort, care, and isolation from others.

On the other hand, and maybe a weird pull for this, but Zafrina from Twilight would be great. Alec, too. Both have powers that would be super helpful when darling is overwhelmed.

Druig is able to just make everyone nearby shut up, which he would employ liberally.

food sensitivity/pickiness

Yanderes who enjoy cooking could go both ways on this. I could see some being offended by negative feedback and some taking it as being gifted with the challenge of meeting their darling's standards. Teruteru from Danganronpa and Esme from Twilight would both probably be good about receiving feedback and making changes. Super eager to please. Esme more so than Teruteru; he might get offended at first.

Rich and royal yanderes would delight in someone picky. They would love to be able to send food back with new, highly specific orders because darling doesn't like grapes with soft spots. Your Tony Stark's, your Byakuya Togami's, your Toph Beifong's, your Coriolanus Snow's.

Ralph from DBH would be a problem. He has a very weak grasp on what humans eat and a very high sensitivity to negative feedback. (Wait, he's just like me...)

resistance to changes in routine

This one would be a problem for yanderes who feel a need to go on adventures and trips with their darling. Which isn't necessarily the same as adventurous yanderes. Some adventurous yanderes might enjoy the idea of their darling staying behind at home keeping to a comfortable routine. But the ones who want their darling along on the adventure would be problematic. The Doctor, for example. Especially Eleven; he gets bored easily.

Whereas I think a lot of superheroes would like the idea of keeping their darling sequestered away, living predictably and comfortably. Clark Kent, Steve Rogers, Druig...The only catch is that some of them (Druig) would probably be a bit condescending about it.

I think Daycare Attendant would be great for routine. Coloring time, snack time, naptime, same time every day, sign them up! Also condescending, but they genuinely can't help it because it's how they're programmed.

Technically, Phineas and Ferb keep to a very specific routine, albeit a pretty tiring/potentially overwhelming one.

sorting things

This would be great for the disorganized genius character type. A Bruce Banner, if you will. An organized genius probably already has a system and might have trouble with someone sorting things differently than they have them. A distinctly slovenly character probably wouldn't mind either way.

hyperfixation

Yo, Queen from Deltarune would be the best for this. She would create an inescapable palace of the thing darling likes. Swatch and the Swatchlings would be involved.

stimming

There might be a problem if the yandere is easily distracted and needs to focus on something else. The main one I can think of who fits that description is Percy Jackson. That's not a distaste thing; just a pragmatic issue. Yanderes who experience sensory overload might also have an issue with it. My first thought was Queen Elsa.

On the other hand, Leo Valdez would love to make little stim toys for his darling. Donatello, too.