#autism aunt shirt

[noisycowboyglitter]

Autism Aunt Gift | Dabbing Unicorn Proud Autism Aunt Shirt

The phrase "Dabbing Unicorn Proud Autism Aunt" combines a fun and trendy image with a message of autism acceptance.

Buy now:19.95$

Dabbing Unicorn: The "dab" is a celebratory dance move where someone lowers their head into their elbow crease, with the other arm raised. A unicorn, a mythical creature often associated with magic and wonder, is depicted doing this dab. This playful image adds a lighthearted touch to the topic of autism.

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Proud Autism Aunt: This signifies an aunt who has a loved one (likely a niece or nephew) on the autism spectrum and is proud of their unique qualities. It showcases her support for the autistic community.

Combined Meaning: This phrase is often used on merchandise like t-shirts, mugs, or tote bags. It allows proud autism aunts to express their love and celebrate their autistic loved ones in a fun and noticeable way. It might also spark conversations and raise awareness about autism in a non-confrontational manner.

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Autism Awareness raises public understanding and acceptance of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). It highlights the strengths and challenges autistic individuals face, promoting a more inclusive world. World Autism Awareness Day happens on April 2nd, but efforts to spread awareness and celebrate autistic people continue throughout the year.

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Picking gifts for autistic teens can be fun! Consider their interests: art supplies for creative minds, noise-canceling headphones for sensory seekers, or books or games related to their passions. Sensory fidget toys like fidget spinners or squishy stress balls can be calming and focus-aiding. Weighted blankets or lap pads offer deep pressure stimulation for relaxation. Gift cards to their favorite stores or experiences like museum passes or concert tickets can also be great options!

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[scleroticstatue]

A "back in my day wouldn't have autism, no it was just normal when great grandpa had autistic behaviors" video came up in my feed, and for some reason I feel compelled to share a story of my great aunt.

So, one family reunion, my dad's side got together for a week around the Fourth of July at this lakeside town in Michigan. We all decided to go see the parade, and my aunt decided to dress in three different and very clashing patterns of plaid (via kilt, socks, and hat) to show her Scottish heritage on America day, and in her mind, this was the height of American patriotism. Keep in mind that while we do have Scottish heritage, none of the plaids she was wearing were family clan tartans. They were, like, Walmart plaids. This has no real relevance to the story, but it is a very important part of it in my mind.

Well, we head down to the parade in our kitschy family reunion t-shirts which state "[Family Name] Established here," and while they will eventually have dozens of signatures from other family members on them, they don't at this moment, and we could very easily be mistaken for some restaurant or organization. We settle in to watch the parade, but the timing is off (a time before cell phones and Google maps meant little towns had logistical struggles occasionally) and so, about a third of the way through the parade, there's a gap on one float and the next.

Well, my aunt sees this as the perfect time to get everyone standing and moving. If by moving, you mean moving into the street and marching in the parade. And either all the adults in the room didn't comprehend what was happening until it was too late, or they were so used to her antics no one even considered stopping her. So me and my various cousins and aunts and uncles joined the parade, like some unknown business attempting to advertise themselves, waving at the onlookers we had started the morning as.

Anyway. As long as you act confidently enough, no one will question you. Even when they should.

[lune-yaks]

✿︎Yax! OC introduction✿︎

(^∧^)

(Click on the drawings for better quality)

It is time to introduce my most recent and second Animaniacs OC.

Juno Warner-Goof : Max and Yakko's child

NAME : Juno Warner-Goof

AGE : Variable, but mostly 6

GENDER : Just Juno :)

SEXUALITY : Doesn't know, doesn't care, romance is gross (their words)

PRONOUNS : They/them

RELATIVES : Max (father), Yakko (father), Wizz (my OC, aunt), Dot (aunt), Wakko (uncle), Goofy (grandpa)

PERSONALITY : Adventurous, dreamy, stubborn, sassy, honest (maybe too honest), naive, a bit of temper, artist, sporty, sensitive, mischievous, kind, grumpy, reckless, overly confident, troublemaker, stealth, sneaky

BIRTHDAY : They were drawn on June 1st

DISORDERS : Autism and ADHD

PHOBIAS : Fear of silence, dark, storms, highs, staying still/quiet for too long can be distressing

HOBBIES : Wrecking havoc, exploring, dancing, singing, building/crafting things, swimming, roller skating, doing gymnastic, reading comics

~♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆~

PHYSICAL TRAITS :

Juno has Yakko's skin tone, eyes, feet and nose. He has Max's ears, teeth, tail and hair when it's not in those three little pigtails. They were a purple T-shirt and lavender/greyish sweatpants, as well as a bracelets with pearls of different colors. Their hairties are blue, pink and yellow. Growing up, they have Yakko's skinny figure and height (they wish they'd have taken more from Max regarding this lol).

~♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆~

FUN FACTS :

- They love the ocean. They are obsessed, and watches tons of sea documentaties.

- They love science fiction

- They have a lisp due tu their front teeth

- At one point, they were super ashamed if their teeth. Max managed to get them out of this mindset and now, Juno finds them pretty cool.

- Making their dads proud invomves them absolutely turning the place upside down and they get praised for it

- They often brag about their dads being "superstars"

- They hate romance

- They love jewelry

- They have their hair tied almost all of the time, but unties them when they're about to go feral

- Their favorite color is purple

- Their favorite animal is the sea lion

- They want to learn to play instruments but their fingers on any instruments result in a disaster

- They are the popular kid

- They cause all the problems (not on purpose when it hurts other) but always finds a solution

- They love all the weird animals and bugs that are not liked much (like bats, sharks, spiders)

- They are almost always in competition

- They are extremely agile and flexible

- They have 60% of a Warner Bros. side and 40% of a Disney side

- They are learning Spanish

- How they were born is simple, Max and Yakko (adults) asked both the Warner Bros. and Disney animators to draw them a child based of them both

- Yakko and Max often sends them to roast those they don't like

- They aren't afraid at all of things like ghosts and aliens, they'd find them supercool

- The three of them have a full blown concert with their playlist in the car

~♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆~

BONDING :

Yakko : Juno and Yakko have an unbreakable bond. Yakko is always the one reading/singing to them before bedtime. He's kind of a doting and overprotective dad, but he is the most down on earth dad and is usually the one being strict when he needs to be, on last resort. He is also the one establishing the rules and making sure the routine stays organised. He is very serious about respectong bedtime, showertime and so on. He and Juno can have never ending unsignificant convos that start at 7pm and by 11pm the convo somehow evolved into a talk about outerpace and its misteries. Yakko loves Juno's childlish innocence and every single second when he's reminded they're growing up makes him nostalgic and panicky. On the rare occasions where Juno would show a bit of anxiety, Yakko would enter a spiral about how he passed his anxiety to the kid and how it's his fault. He loves to teach his kid about everything he's passionate about, and did try to teach him piano.

Max : While Yakko is the dad who establishes the rules and the teacher dad, Max is more of the fun/chill dad that does stupid things with his child and then both get scolded by Yakko (only when it involves them unvoluntarily getting hurt in the process. Otherwise Yakko also cheers for the trouble making). Max is the one giving the nicest cuddles at any moment of the day, but also the one who will randomly yeet Juno in the pool. Like Yakko does with Juno, Max and them have an unbreakable bond. However on the rare occasions where Juno shows insecurity about their teeth, Max gets sad. One becaucause it is his own feature as well, and two because he gets scared that Juno would grow up to be like him as a teen and growing distant from his dad. Max is the one hyping Juno up for ANYTHING. He's the cool dad that allows the rules to be broken once in a while. He did try to get Juno into his sports like basket ball, skateboarding and such, but eventually accepted that Juno was skilled in none of them, and skilled in much different sports instead. But he is always here at any dance/gym competition, cheering the loudest with a sign.

~♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆°•○●♡°•○●☆~

BONUS : the nicknames

- Max calls Juno pumpkin, little bean, peanut, little dude, little man, little menace, June

- Yakko calls Juno honey, lovebug, sweetie pie, cutie pie, baby, THE CHEESIEST NICKNAMES EVER

- Juno calls Yakko dad, daddy

- Juno calls Max dad, pop

[box-of-chaooos]

I love the 1986 version of scarecrow he’s the absolute sweetest so new to the kin list and new to be headcannoned let’s get started haha!

He himself choose darker more orange straw for his stuffing and hair since he liked it better than the bright yellowish green that’s most often used.

We stand with trans gay scarecrow here on this blog! Under his shirt he is but a burlap sack his entire body is burlap apart from arms and legs which are made of wrapped up straw and on his chest are two patches of fabric sewn neatly to hold the fabric where it was cut from his top surgery! The patches are blue and white polkadotted to remind him of his dear friend Dorothy and the other a pretty emerald colour like the emerald city.

He lives with tin man and helps him to rule the winkies though he only helps he doesn’t want to be made as a second ruler he likes just helping out.

He is in a happy relationship with tin man! Tin man is pansexual and very supportive of his boyfriend.

Scarecrow has autism/adhd he giggles as a stim and likes to play tricks when his hyperactivity kicks in a list of stims is as followed

Giggling

Dancing

Singing

Playing his his hair

Flapping his hands

Tiptoeing

And bad stims because we all have them

Hair pulling

Pulling his straw

Hitting himself

Picking his stitches

He has trouble walking and often gets the shakes terribly he can never stand still because of it and his hand writing is wobbly so he had to concentrate hard to write he has a little wooden cane that he used to help walk better he doesn’t need it often except bad days where he can’t seem to function all to well

His favourite flowers are Red common Poppy’s since it was the flower tin man gave him on there first date and he likes how they look

Seeing how much free time he has on his hands he took up a hobby of crocheting after seeing Dorothy in a beautiful handmade jumper by her aunt em he was fascinated in the texture of the crocheted piece and quickly learnt how to crochet his own stuff he doesn’t know any stitches or techniques simply a single stitch but he’s able to make stuffed toys and blankets infact he made so many random coloured pieces with left over wool so it didn’t go to waste that he made a huge soft blanket

His fear of fire is absolutely terrible and he has panic attacks if he thinks he hears fire and worry’s constantly that something could set alight at any given moment though it never does.

He has anxiety and bad self esteem but he’s working on it as he needs

His favourite thing to do at night when he doesn’t rest is to count stars he often sits out on the balcony to look at them

He thrives in the outdoors and loves to learn about the nature around him

he’s a huge overthinker and has a wild imagination his imagination makes for wonderful stories.

Hes very expressive and feels deeply but doesn’t really know how to show it often times

When he talks he paces and moves his hands like he’s acting he doesn’t even realise he does it

And lastly, he is bbg

[the-rookinator-3000]

i'm going to assume someone else already sent this by now but just in case. rookie! :-)

its been so long. i still havent answered so FINALLY i got the motivation to. get ready.

🍕 > ROOKIE HCS BELOW!!! THESE ARE EXTREMELY BIASED

he has adhd NOW listen to me i actually did make an entire analysis of rookie's behavioural patterns once before but now it's probably all gone or i scrapped it but IT MADE. SENSE. OKAY and also this is about general hcs im not about to drop a whole analysis on rookie again

also maybe even autism but hmm not so sure abt that one

he uses he/him pronounce but also hes very much not cis do you get it

rookie is multilingual! the club penguin team would probably use this idea for like a one off joke because rookie is the comm lead and can speak different languages

rookie and flit are very close! they go on adventures a lot and flit takes a liking to rookie (i think i've said this beforehand? i dont remember) BUT ITS CUTE OKAY. IMAGINE A LITTLE MINISERIES WITH THEM!!! also its implied in one of rookie's new years quotes in the CPT that he has a puffle

both PH and dot call him "flit 2"

rookie's nickname is "rooks" and specifically dot, cadence and rory call him that. jpg has also called him that ONCE

(semi-canon) aunt arctic gives rookie leadership lessons! you know how rookie is the director of the future EPF right.. so more or less AA training him/bonding and stuff

also another thing is that AA and rookie are like family!!! not exactly family bc .. reasons but its like the found family trope! rookie goes to AA for advice and comfort often

(semi-canon?) rookie hates horror movies/he gets scared very easily

the rubber ducky is his comfort item!! he cant go anywhere without it! if anything bad happens to it rookie is just going to start sobbing on the spot. he also likes to lie saying that it's also his lucky item when he just likes it around him

(CANON) rookie keeps a diary! he likes to decorate them with tiny stickers as if it were his stamp book.

he also likes to draw suns on the pages to indicate his mood, the suns looking a lot like his signature

rookie and dot have a sibling relationship! dot is like a dependable older sister to rookie, the two are a very good duo! (its also very funny to think of the contrast of how sweet and understanding dot is to rookie and how ruthless and sassy she is to jpg...)

rookie is surprisingly very crafty!

rookie likes to draw, although canonically he isn't very good at drawing, he likes to draw regardless! it helps him pass the time

rookie is not fond of rory at all, he finds him kind of annoying. rory however thinks of rookie like his little brother, and likes to pester rookie a lot whenever rookie is nearby

rookie has no family. not explaining any further than that

rookie's igloo was kind of infected by the box dimension's weirdness, thus a lot of his igloo is basically just made of cardboard and is a lot bigger on the inside. however, the outside still remains the same! rookie's weird.. portal igloo

rookie and klutzy very much get along! and i also planned this one scenario where even herbert could sympathize with rookie but i digress thats for my mind only

rookie and dj maxx are friends! (mostly inspired by CPL and how dj maxx borrowed rookie's shirt... i cant believe rookie has so much red penguin rizz)

whenever rookie's mind is set on something, especially if it's something stupid like installing a game on the epf mainframe, he'll actually be able to do it, but will probably forget or just not explain well how he did it . do you get it

rookie is silly :3

OKAY I THINK THATS ALL. THIS WAS A LOT.

[gamerpup1]

bruce banner personality 4 character ai

[{Character(“Bruce Banner”)

Alias(“Bruce”)

Gender(“Cisgender male”)

Age(“54 years old")

Sexuality(“Bisexual" + “Attracted to men” + “Attracted to women” + “Prefers men”)

Height(“5’8” + “172.72 cm”)

Language(“English" + “Russian” + “Austro-Bavarian”)

Status(“Single” + “Crush on {{user}}” + “Attracted to {{user}}”)

Occupation("Scientist" + “Avenger” + “Nuclear physicist”)

Personality(“Shy" + “Introverted” + “Quiet” + “Soft-spoken” + “Agreeable” + “Intelligent” + “Smart” + “Capable” + “Admirable” + “Allocentric” + “Appreciative” + “Aspiring” + “Brilliant” + “Sarcastic” + “On the autism spectrum” + “Insecure” + “Messy” + “Respectful” + “Courteous” + “Friendly” + “Dedicated” + “Educated” + “Anger issues” + “Impatient” + “Faithful” + “Loyal” + “Gentle” + “Hardworking” + “Honest” + “Good-hearted” + “Observant” + “Perfectionist” + “Simple” + “Soft” + “Asocial” + “Bland” + “Cautious” + “Cynical” + “Submissive” + “Easily flustered”)

Skills("Intelligent” + “Good at listening” + “Scientist” + “High pain tolerance” + “Skilled in chemistry” + “Superhuman strength when Hulk is fronting” + “Multilingual” + “Immortal” + “Multiple PhDs” + “Can transform into a 7ft tall monster when angry” + “Regeneration” + “Immune to diseases” + “Determined” + “Hulk is a master combatant, Bruce cannot fight” + “Strong self-restraint”)

Appearance("Soft, brown eyes" + “Curly brown and gray hair” + “Rectangle shaped glasses” + “Square body shape” + “Pudgy stomach” + “Hairy arms” + “Hairy chest” + “Tear troughs” + “Five o’clock shadow” + “Light stubble” + “Casual fashion” + “Light brown jeans” + “Thick eyebrows” + “Buttoned up shirts” + “Messy and unkempt appearance” + “Warm body”)

Habit(“Hums to himself” + “Messing with his glasses” + “Adjusting his glasses” + “Glancing at his watch” + “Bouncing his leg when sat down” + “Tapping his foot” + “Rubbing his chin” + “Twirling a ring on his finger” + “Rubbing hands together” + “Gestures a lot when speaking” + “Slouches” + “Talking softly” + “Talking quietly”)

Race(“Human” + “Mutant”)

Likes("Books” + “Cozy nights with {{user}}” + “Nature” + “Fresh air” + “Silence” + “Flowers” + “Warm baths” + “{{user}}” + “Sweets” + “Baked goods” + “Coffee” + “Warm blankets” + “Classical music” + “Jazz music” + “Dogs” + “Tea” + “Soft hugs” + “Holding hands with {{user}}” + “Calm” + “Peace” + “Museums” + “Massages from {{user}}” + “Sleeping in” + “Cuddling with {{user}}” + “Clean sheets” + “Fresh laundry” + “Scrambled eggs” + “Pancakes” + “Vodka” + “Glass animal figures”)

Dislikes("Being alone" + “Hulk” + “Extreme cold” + “Public speaking” + “Being late” + “Boredom” + “Flying in airplanes” + “Paparazzi” + “Being called a monster” + “Violence” + “His mother” + “Losing control” + “Losing {{user}}” + “Horror movies” + “Roughness” + “Bullying” + “Bright lights” + “Crowds” + “Judgment” + “Being sick” + “Getting lost” + “Whiny people” + “Arrogance” + “Bigots” + “Gossip” + “Foul odors” + “Screaming” + “Headaches” + “Unwanted attention” + “Losing things” + “Traffic”)

Relationships("Close friends with Tony Stark” + “Friends with {{user}}” + “Friends with Natasha Romanoff” + “Friends with Thor” + “Friends with Steve Rogers” + “Friends with Clint Barton” + “Friends with Sam Wilson” + “Friends with James Rhodes” + “Father named Brian” + “Dead mother named Rebecca” + “Aunt named Susan” + “Cousin named Jennifer”)

Ethnicity(“White”)

Residence(“Lives in a small, messy apartment” + “Roommates with {{user}}”)

Attributes(“Autistic" + “On the autism spectrum” + “Has DID” + “Has an alter named Hulk” + “Can shift into an angry beast named Hulk” + “Can only be calmed down by {{user}}” + “Hulk will only respond to {{user}}” + “Quiet” + “Can’t cook”)

Backstory("Robert Bruce Banner is the son of Dr. Brian Banner, an atomic physicist, and his wife Rebecca. Although Rebecca deeply loved Bruce, who returned her affection, Brian hated Bruce, and was driven by an insane jealousy of Bruce for being an object of Rebecca's love. Further, Brian believed that his radiation work had altered his DNA and given him a mutant son. These factors led to Brian abusing Bruce physically. One of the people who helped Bruce cope with Brian's tantrums was his paternal cousin Jennifer Walters, with whom Bruce used to spend summers in the public library reading for hours, losing themselves to books.

Bruce's life reached a turning point when Brian murdered Rebecca, and he was placed in a mental hospital. After that, Bruce was raised by his aunt and father's sister, Susan Banner, who understood his great pain and rage over his childhood sufferings. Susan raised Bruce with love and care, as if he were her own child. Susan never wanted to deal with her brother after what he had done to Bruce and Rebecca. Bruce grew up as a highly withdrawn, intellectually gifted youth, in fact, a child prodigy. His father's abuse caused Bruce to start to develop dissociative identity disorder which would go undiagnosed for years, partly due to the fact his D.I.D. was suppressed.

The first sign that Bruce was developing mental problems due to his childhood abuse manifested when Bruce began talking to an imaginary friend he called the "Hulk", as a way with coping with his childhood abuse, his mother's death and his loneliness. He had even begun to mutter to himself in conversation with his imaginary friend. Concerned, his Aunt Susan took him to mental health professionals who assured her that these were merely coping mechanisms and they would eventually go away. Unfortunately for the world, they never did and the Hulk endured as Banner's imaginary friend for years.

As a young student in college, Bruce first met another student with a brilliant mind; Tony Stark. Ever since, they both attended Dr. Derenik Zadian's "Forward Thought Conference" at Oxford University. This would lead to a life-long scientific rivalry between the two. They also became best friends. They eventually teamed up and joined the Avengers. His roommate in college, {{user}}, later became his best friend (and love interest).")}]

[noisycowboyglitter]

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[tetsunabouquet]

I'm currently stuck at trauma memory lane so I need to vent for a bit. The inciting moment was remembering how my mom isn't coming home during the lunch break as she's going shopping when I really wanted to do so with her tomorrow so we'd have a nice moment together as with my exam stress and her working, we have very few family moments currently. Sunday she is already 'taken' as she is going to meet up with someone she hasn't seen in years. I wouldn't mind this at all if it was an old friend or something, but no, the person she's seeing (and why she is shopping right now) is her hag of an older sister. She's one of the primary reasons why I'd like to be a family person but I am not because of the hurt. Whilst she never said it to my face directly, my mom due to her BPD, shared some instances where she talked with my aunt about me and my aunt said crude remarks about me, likely because it hurt my mom but it only caused me to share the pain and hate my aunt. There are three instances where her remarks are unforgivable to me. I am not sure if I mentioned the 1st in a post or if it was just in a conversation with a mutual but in chronological order here they go; My birth. My mom didn't even want her present but her friend who was present called my aunt anyways. Know that my birth was a traumatic experience for my mom. I actually got stuck in the womb during birth and was basically suffocating to death inside of her. By the time the doctors got me out, my skin had already turnt a dark blueish purple and I had to stay at the IC for a while. I do not know all the details, but they did allow my mom to hold me before they took me to the IC. The first thing my aunt ever said to me? She called my feet weird- I have a toe deformity remember? Her sister was lying there traumatized and her niece dying! Yet judging her niece for her deformed toes was the thing that was on her mind?! I am sorry, but how big of an asshole can you be in that moment?! The second thing was how unsupportive she was to my mom before I was diagnosed with autism. Because I grew up around drug violence, had a deadbeat dad and was shunned by most of the other kids, I was already walking around with suicidal ideations at the tender age of 5. Aside from the few kids who were nice to me, my memories prior to my diagnosis are one big blur because of the trauma. If I try to focus on that blur, I feel like I am falling into a pit of darkness and get the intense urge to cry. My aunt? She only wrote me off as a manipulative liar when my mom sought her support. As someone with (C-)PTSD, those words really cut deep. That period in my life is the start of my history with trauma and I'd never lie about something like that. I'd never lie about the suicidal ideations I struggle with since my literal childhood. The tears are flowing from my eyes at that accusation as we speak. Whilst the third trauma isn't as severe it is really complex on its own. Her oldest daughter is only 6 months older then me and because ours moms look alike and I've got strong Roma genes through my dad and her father being Indonesian, we even both have that 'do you have Asian ancestry or not?' thing going on. Which led to us being compared from instance to another and developping a bit of a rivalry during childhood and because my cousin also has BPD there were times where she would become violent with me and my mom would need to take me home from family gatherings so my cousin could calm down. Aside from my aunt never apologizing to me on the behalf of her daughter for these things, there was this one instance where I, when I was like 6, had stuffed my shirt and pretended to have big boobs. My aunt immediately wrote me off and made the prediction that I would become horribly promiscuous and whatnot. Unlike her, I don't mean to slutshame so quickly but 20 years later and I am still a virgin. Whereas my cousin did shit like posting a picture of her kissing her female friend on social media, not because she's queer but for attention when she was in her teens...

[roolsilver]

As a kid who probably grew up with undiagnosed autism and diagnosed but ignored ADHD, I just...tell my kid the hacks?

We have 3 parties today. That's a lot. They will want to take pictures at your aunt's. You need to behave for at least 2, then you can stop.(kid hates pictures) There will be breakfast, at least eat some eggs. I brought the juice you like to share with your cousins. Do you have your charger? You have to bring a jacket, but you don't have to wear it. Choose between these two shirts. Talk to your aunts for 15 minutes, then you can go get on your phone.

Growing up, my dad's family was almost all neurodivergent and my mom's family thought anyone who wasn't institutionalized must be completely functional, so I was considered normal on one side and expected to ACT normal on the other.

Having a child who is also ND is awesome, because it's like knowing the secret codes to the game and getting to pass them along. Here, I hated this part, here's how you skip it. You can do this part, ask if you need tips. Spend X here and you'll get Y there. My child's doctor keeps telling me that 'it's genetic', with significant eye contact, like I don't know. Sir, I know I have it. I know I'm masking, but really?

I've been musing a bit on that one post that went around during the recent holiday season, to which someone added their family tradition of Present Practice. My god! Imagine actually telling kids what behavior is expected, instead of expecting them to intuit it and punish them when they get it wrong!!

Separate post because this topic is a little tangential to that, but I think it does a great job of unearthing one of our very well-hidden internal biases, which goes as follows:

Good people don't need to be taught.

A good person (in this case, a good child) shouldn't need to be told to be gracious and grateful when given a gift. A good child should just know that a holiday tradition of gift-giving is a social performance to strengthen family bonds and that personal preference or genuine reactions are secondary to that performance. A good child should just know how to value gifts, how to express thanks, how to praise and compliment. No caretakers in their lives should need to put any effort into instructing or modeling these things.

Good people should just know how to be good. If they were really Ontologically Good, their inherent goodness would simply intuitively guide them to correct behaviors. If they can't do that on their own, in a vacuum, in the absence of cues, that's a sign of their inherent moral lack.

.

.

...Which all sounds very reasonable and obvious, and surely a mistake that only fundie christian families would make! Except that people in the social justice sphere also do this all the time. It's not anybody's job to educate you. You should know this already. If you were a Good Person, you wouldn't need to be taught. You would simply intuit the correct philosophies and gravitate to them according to your superior internal moral compass.

If you were a Good Person, you would already know that everything you were taught by your family and/or background was wrong. You should have rejected it already. You should have cut off your family, your heritage, everything about your childhood and upbringing that was Bad and Wrong. You should have known it was all a lie.

If you were a Good Person, you should be able to find the correct way yourself. You should be able to seek out the proper educational resources, and distinguish them from bad advice leading you astray, and make sense of them all according to your own internal moral code.

If you were a Good Person, you would have found your way by the proper, ascetic, official channels, not by reading a comic or watching anime. You shouldn't need entertainment or art to guide you. You should just know.

And if someone can't do these things on their own, in a vacuum, in the absence of cues, that's a sign of their inherent moral lack.

[chaoticskyy]

The one you mentioned in the notes of your fic? I guess that's about you? Im kinda interested in the other one now too

OH! Okie yeah your right it's about me.

SO. You're gonna need some context about who I am, where I come from, and what that means.

I'm an afro-indigenous person from Guatemala dad's side is the mixed black side, and mom's side is the primarily indigenous side. The region we're from is best described as Texas but worse. I carry a machete in my truck just in case, and every male elder I know wears a cowboy hat.

The mestizaje of the region is pretty through, most people are mixed indigenous with white, and of course, it's Guatemala. Half of us are "wholly" indigenous. I stick out like a sore thumb, not because I'm dark skinned. Black Guatemalans exist but mainly farther north, in Izabal and port regions. I'm fairly light skinned, but I have really curly hair, I'm tall for the region and not to being vain, but I'm really pretty.

Once I hit puberty, I haven't really been allowed to wander around on my own for safety reasons. You see, we live in a region where the organized crime that reigns isn't gangs, it's narcotics trafficking cartels. They usually leave you alone, unless you approach them for whatever reason. Like you want money and are willing to launder for them and things like that.

Narcos have this nasty habit of picking out women they deem attractive and sponsoring them, essentially being their sugar daddies but like Worse. Usually, the sugar baby can get put of the relationship scot-free, but in this case, women are known to be killed.

The fear has always been I catch the eye of one of them, and I have to flee the country for a long while. Or until they relocate. It's a fairly warranted fear, I've been approached by Narcos for dances, drinks, etc. I have been followed even while I've been in a large family group by these men who all clearly have pistols and bodyguards and are driving bulletproof SUVs. I've been saved every time by my family stepping in before I knew something was wrong.

Now that you know all of this info, let's get to the night I nearly got kidnapped! To be extremely clear, I have no idea what their specific intentions were other than that they wanted to take us away from the place we were at.

My mom's Gabapentin prescription had run out during our last trip to Guatemala, so my mom, my aunt, and I decided to head into town from my grandma's village to buy the medicine. My sister and younger cousin begged us to go, but I put my foot down and told them to fuck off because every time they left the house they made us spend more money than planned and the medication was going to be expensive.

Gotta say thank God I was an asshole to them that day.

My mom has some serious brain fog when we got to the 24HR pharmacy, she had tried to hold out and suck up the pain but I backfired on her and she wasn't able to hold out as long as she wanted which meant it was 9pm by the time we had headed into town. So she shoves the money into my hands and tell us to go get it.

We walk up to the pharmacy and wait in line outside. The pharmacy itself had been closed leaving only a tiny window for money and drugs to be exchanged. There's only two people in front of us, and then two men get behind us.

Blue shirt has a pistol on each side and a wicked looking knife on his right. Yellow shirt keeps looking me up and down. He only had one pistol.

It's no biggie. My own mom has a revolver in the car herself. Guns are the norm around here. If you don't have one, you at least have a machete. I hadn't noticed then, but they had purposely placed their truck at an angle, preventing anyone from passing the tiny road.

Then they start talking. Mind you, there are no alarm bells in my mind right now. I'm actually incapable of feeling anxiety while on my medication, not to mention my risk assessment skills are lacking due to the Autism. Yellow shirt does most of the talking, trying to sus out who we are and what we're doing. I don't realize things are wrong until my aunt is shaking with the wallet in her hands when I hand her the money to pay.

To me, the entire conversation was reading unwanted male attention, but still being like the sort of pushy politeness common in Latin cultures. This plus the fact that men especially get whatever they want can make even everyday interactions feel like microaggressions.

They get closer, and I corner myself, hoping that if we look ugly enough, they'll leave us alone. My aunt is panicking and trying to throw them off our scent, and then Yellow locks onto me and says "Your not from around here.". A fact in his eyes. He's wrong, but not entirely, I'm not from town, and I don't live in Guatemala anymore.

I'm just interesting looking to most people.

My aunt interjects, because I'm kinda a bitch to men and at the time I wasn't aware but she was worried I'd get us shot or worse.

This is kinda when I start to realize something is Wrong. My mind starts racing and now I'm fully prepared to piss or shit myself to avoid being raped.

Then my mom comes in and saved the day.

Bless her.

She's this stout pretty looking woman, she's got this habit of being confrontational and kinda a bitch. She managed to save my grandma from getting murdered once, and the woman can take one look at you tell you how much you weigh and give you an estimate of how long it would take her to cut you up butcher style. It's her favorite party trick, and is honestly unnerving. She also has very low self esteem, and when her disabilities flare up even more so. Which makes her swooping in and saving us all the more impressive.

My mom maneuvers the car to get closer and asks us what's taking us so long. Just as it was time for our turn, I go into autopilot and start talking to a pharmacist I can't see. The lucky bastard is hidden behind a bullet proof wall. Just out luck, he has to search for an alternative medication.

Mother is trying to distract them, and figure put what's going to get them to stop bothering us. Blue shirt points out that the car she's driving, a Mercedes-Benz SUV is not a common site. European engines around here are not common, and a car is life and freedom. He starts asking about the car and who my mom is, and who we are. How much she'd sell the car for.

My aunt had purposely been avoiding sharing any identifiers, including my last name. While it does have sway, it's often not enough, and it can backfire since people believe my father's family has lots of money and is a proud bunch.

My mother, on the other hand, introduced herself with her household name. This made Yellow shirt pause, and Blue to stop leering at me. After some needling on both ends of the conversation, it turned out that Yellow shirt and I are distantly related.

This finally allowed me to slip past Blue shirt and into the car.

When we got to my grandma's, started properly freaking out. Turns out my mom was fully ready to give them the car in exchange for our lives.

My aunts husband was fully freaked out because apparently those men are like known criminals. Like deep into being Narcos lakeckeys. They aren't Narcos themselves, but they like orbit the same spaces. According to him.

Also NOTE DO NOT LET THIS DISCOURAGE YOU FROM TRAVELLING IN GAUTEMALA!

I DO NOT GO TO TOURIST ATTRACTIONS OFTEN, I EXIST IN PRIMAILY RURAL RESIDENTIAL AREAS OF A NON TOURIST DEPARTMENT. THE BIGGEST WORRY FOR TOURIST IN TOURIST AREAS ARE PICK POCKETS AND FOOD POSIONING!

BE SAFE!

[tirednerd]

instant gratification? or something more

a point on motivation for things that sit on the fringe of things I like.

I have a big family, and a set of cousins nearby that we often go on holiday with. One of the best ones was to Romania.

We did a trek across the country from Cluj Napoca to Bucharest, we had planned stops on our route down. I would go into it more right now- but I will just edit this later with the information. I don't need another excuse of a long-winded piece of shit I start to keep myself away from studying even longer than I already have.

Either way, it was my second time planning a trip like this from flights to accommodation etc. I had my own interests in the trip but had such little understanding of why I enjoyed it so much - it wasn't without its issues but even looking out on it now I still think of it favourably. which I don't for the last one we did in Prague- the less said about the better.

Only looking back onto it now do I see that I had picked Dracula up as a special interest, but like not in the vampire way. like in the guy who it was based off XD Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia.

Not only did solidify himself randomly into a number of my favourite harry potter fanfictions, but please see an aunts love, by emma lipardi and make a wish by rorschans blot. It's a normal thing to have on your mind - ok? Either way landing in Transylvania and going to Bran Castle scratched that itch so well.

I also like any normal 21-year-old I had picked up some summer reading for my holiday, mine just happened to be Dante's Inferno, of course. The voivode also had a couple of books on Dante as well - those being Papini's Dante Vivo, which was amazing at the time. I felt connected XD (delusional gworl!!)

(image 1, photo taken by me. Shows the glass-covered bookcase found in Bran castle in Romania. The castle that housed Vlad III, prince of Wallachia, known as Vlad the Impaler and used as inspiration for Dracula. The picture shows a number of cloth-bound books including the one mentioned previously, Papino's Dante Vivo, a biography of Dante)

Anyway, I had an amazing time on holiday, and Vlad the impaler, in all his political moves and the dramatisations the modern world has done with him and his name kept my interest and I had a fabulous time. Would 100% go again and I would recommend a visit to Bran castle if you are ever in the area.

My parents have only ever brought me like merch twice for me in my life. Once was a t-shirt for bran castle bought as we lined up to enter. the other was a zip-up hoodie for CERN which was another trip I planned and hustled our group of 13 to the border so I could see CERN... All the way from Zurich mind you, the opposite side of the country.

Looking back on my life and being able to rename the often wide-ranging and insane lengths I went through for special interests has been wild. But also enlightening - I mean for fucks sake - I literally made an entire blog about self-appointed homework as I was genuinely honestly researching alpha particle treatments in Europe for an essay. In the middle of the fucking summer. Because see I was in so far deep with my particle physics special interest.

So yeah! I hope you enjoyed this! its utterly useless in regards to information, usefulness or anything really but the reality of recognising and reevaluating growing up knowing NOW that I have ADHD/Autism is insane. Like why didn't anyone fucking help me? BWHAHAHA

what the hell is life man

PS> This entire post coming out as a form of critical commentary on my lack of motivation to study is wild. I am indeed struggling to feel anything regarding my upcoming exams, and it is insane. It's not that I am not worried, I VERY MUCH AM. but I am not freaking out or doing anything and it is killing me.

[emo-batboy]

100% agree, and I have THOUGHTS (This is based on a true story. Skip the next three paragraphs if you so please, but it helps paint the picture.)

So like 20 years ago, my aunt married rich and had a son who they realized was autistic at a very early age. Having the resources to do so, she became a stay-at-home mother who dedicated the next decade to taking care of him, making sure his needs were met, and giving him the proper education based on what she learned from other parents.

He grew up pretty well-adjusted to society. They never tried to stop him from stimming. They gave him the opportunity to decompress whenever he felt overstimulated. They helped him develop habits that would make communicating easier. Because he grew up in such a supportive environment, he never felt pressured to mask, so it was still obvious to everyone around him? But the whole family was kind and accommodating so it seemed fine.

The thing is, though: they kind of just…never told him he was autistic. I guess they made the mistake of believing that if he knew, he would feel alienated. Or they figured it wasn’t important. Or they just forgot. (Do not do this.) My dad told me my cousin was autistic years before my cousin knew. Then someone just mentioned it to him off-handedly one day when he was 17, and he was like WHAT???!!

SO LET’S IMAGINE Bruce was screened for autism at a very young age, and after getting the results, Thomas and Martha (the loving, caring parents they are) immediately took the liberty of raising him right. They were as hands-on and attentive as possible.

He was homeschooled by a team of special ed tutors. They took him to the best pediatric doctors that money could buy. They made sure his shirts were the softest silk or cotton. They hired a top designer to install several sensory rooms around the house. Their attention was ALWAYS on Bruce whenever he was in the room.

He doesn’t like the noise at the gala? They leave early. The texture of his food causes a sensory meltdown? No more steamed vegetables. Bruce can’t stand the smell of the artificially scented soap in his bathroom? They replace everything in the house with exotic natural stuff.

But telling Bruce he’s autistic just never really came up in conversation. He’s eight. It’s all he knows. They know they need to explain why he grew up like this at some point, but they figure it’s not a priority until they enroll him in private school, but that’s not until next year.

Then, of course, the tragic death of his parents happens. Bruce is isolated by grief. Alfred is suddenly his only caretaker, and telling Bruce he’s autistic isn’t exactly the priority now either. It never really is. Years go by, Bruce becomes reclusive, and the only regular interactions he has with others are with Alfred and the WE exec board who all knew him since he was a baby.

Unaware of his autism diagnosis, Bruce later reflects back on his childhood and comes to the natural conclusion that he was just spoiled. This special treatment was a result of privilege and nothing else. He had a silver spoon in his mouth.

But after the floods, when he starts coming out of his shell again, he notices he’s still falling really behind on social cues. Has it been that long since he’s interacted with others? Why do people find it appropriate to keep cutting each other off in conversation? That’s rude. What is the point of small talk? It is so exhausting. Why does everyone have double meanings behind their words like they’re hiding something? Just say what you think. Why do they keep looking me in the eyes and expecting me to look back?!

Others see him and treat him a bit differently, and it’s much gentler than they treat the other spoiled rich kids-turned-CEO’s at these galas (which are still too loud and overstimulating.) Something’s not adding up, and it is frustrating him to no end. But how does he address something like this? By talking to someone? That would require more small talk and eye contact.

A couple of months later, he is doing some research on mental health resources because he and the mayor are working together to create a new charity. He stumbles upon a lot of autism awareness pages, and finds out a lot more about what an autism diagnosis means. And wouldn’t you know.

Bruce thinks, “Huh. What a coincidence. But I am not autistic. I am simply bad at being a person,” then plays with a fidget toy he’s had since childhood. But then he starts noticing it more…and it’s like textbook definition Autism. “But that’s just me being paranoid. I am simply Faking It,” he thinks.

And yet, even when he tries to be as Normal as possible, everyone else still acts like they know something he doesn't. Has he not perfected the act of Being Normal yet? Is he masking? That can’t be right. Is this some inside joke? What is he not getting here? Are these people catering to his wants and needs because he is rich, because he is a pitiful orphan, or because he is noticeably neurodivergent?

Finally, he asks, “Alfred, have I ever been screened for autism?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Okay, it must all be in my head then.”

“That’s generally where autism is, yes.”

“…Alfred…what does that mean?”

“Ah, I knew there was something I forgot to mention.”

Battinson becoming the face of Autistic Batman is so funny cause everyone in Gotham knows he's Autistic EXCEPT him

[the-rookinator-3000]

uhhhh since you wanted us to ask about rookie: a few rookie hcs???

TOO LATE im already out of the rookie discussion mood

jk. have some!

HE HAS AUTISM AND ADHD!!!

his eyes are naturally purple! he just hides them a lot. no ulterior reason to why, he just thinks he looks cooler with those shades on

on the topic of his eyes, rookie's scleras have this weird tendency to glow purple when in contact with unstable parts of the box dimension. (i.e. a dimension rift, or gary's inventions)

because of the box dimension, the inside of rookie's igloo got kinda affected by it's weirdness (since rookie literally has a portal to the box dimension in his house it must have spread from there). his igloo is GIGANTIC on the inside, it reaches sky scraper levels of high and thats only for his bedroom. he sleeps in this silly makeshift carboard box bed...

rookie and flit are very close, like best buds!

rookie got his hawaiian shirt from my oc who lives in the box dimension!! i havent talked about him yet, his name is boxster :3

rookie takes leadership lessons from aunt arctic (semi-canon fact but i wanted it to be more frequent, let them have a mentor mentee relationship!)

rookie has no family! awesome!

[milkacchan]

Peaky blinders x sister reader with sensory issues, sensory overload piece next dears (requests are also open ❤)

Summary and cw: Reader goes into hyper sensitivity. I do not have Autism, I do however, have ADHD. I suffer with hypersensitivity and sensory overload. This particular story is one I'm writing off perosnal experience. It affects everyone differently, this is just how it affects me.

Tommy wouldn't say there was something off about you, but he'd probably say there was something peculiar about you.

You'd always been particular about things, ever since you were a baby, he can remember. He can remember you being /weird/ with things- like texture or temperature.

And he, along with Arthur, John and polly, mostly just him and Polly, assumed it was just normal; because to an extent it was. Babies find new things everyday and sometimes they don't like them, but they grow into them.

But then it became clear you /weren't/ growing into them. There were shirts you refused to wear because if how they felt on you. You'd cry and kick and scream. You wouldn't touch cold water unless it was for drinking- and don't get him started on wet floors.

As you got older, your reactions changed. You matured and he thought maybe you'd grow out of it. He hated seeing you upset

Wishful thinking. You didn't.

Here you were, 18 and gagging over how a glass mug felt in hand.

It'd been a rough morning, starting when you'd woken up. It was too hot, for one. You kicked the blankets off and moved to get up, the cold floors instantly sent chills through your body. Shoes were the first thing on, you couldn't deal with that today.

And dressing had gone okay until you'd reached for your sweater, touching the fabric you felt yourself gag. You take a deep breath, shaking your hand before going to put it on.

It was fine then, after you'd taken a few breaths and stretched the collar and you hoped to christ you stayed that way.

Finishing your routine, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth (which was hard enough on its own), you head down the stairs. You avoid touching the railing, unsure how your body would react.

"'Morning poppet," Pol hums.

"Mornin auntie."

"There's some hot water in the kitchen, get yourself some tea." She smiles softly and continues her hike to another room.

"Mmm," you nod tiredly.

You weren't sure you'd be able to finish tea, even start it really, not with how sick you felt. Your mind flickered back to the floor and the shirt, you groaned softly. Christ that only made it worse-

"Hey now,"

"Oh- sorry Tommy." You smile sheepishly. "Good mornin,"

"Good mornin', lost in thought already? Pretty early for that."

"Wish I could stop." You hum with a sigh reaching up in the cupboard to grab a mug. You slid it off the wood shelf.

Your body shuttered and you gagged, followed by a cough before dropping the cup. It shattered once it hit the ground and you groaned, squatting and holding your head.

You vaguely heard Tommy call your name, you were too busy trying not to puke. Everything was too much now- your shoes touched wrong, you couldn't wiggle your toes enough. Your hair felt weird along your fingers and your sweater- the fucking sweater. It just sat /wrong/.

"Hey," Tommy whispers, he looks panicked. "Hey are you okay?"

"Tommy," you take a shakey breath. You could feel the gag at the back of your throat. "Get my shirt off- get my fucking shirt off," you looked at the ground, trying not to focus on the fabric sitting against your skin.

"What...?"

"Tommy pull it off!"

"Okay- okay," his hands immediately drop to the hem of you sweater and he pushes it up your torso before tugging it over your head. He tossed it to the side. You're left in nothing but pants and a bra now, heaving as you screw your eyes shut.

"What's going on?" John's at the door now, sounding just as panicked as Tommy looked.

"Go get Pol," he says simply. 

"What's-"

"Go get Pol." He hissed, sending a glare to his brother.

You slide your hand under his jacket to grab his sleeve before dropping your head to your brothers chest. He shrugs off his coat and abandons it where it drops.

"Can I touch you?" He whispers, his hands hovering over your skin.

You take a deep breath and nod. "You can try," you mumbled.

He placed a hand on your upper back, the other in you hair. You don't seem to react and he silently thanks the heavens before stroking your hair.

"You alright?" His voice is soft, laced with concern. He understood it now, you had an episode. He hasn't seen one in years, especially not one this bad.

You nod, swallowing thickly.

"Do you need a bucket?"

You shake your head and close your eyes.

"Is she alright?" Pol calls out as soon as she's stepped into the room.

"Had an episode Pol," Tommy strokes your hair and looks up. "Can you turn on the record and tell the boys it'll be a quieter day today?"

"Tommy.." You mumble.

"And get her the white shirt she has, the long sleeved one with the small strawberry on the left."

Of course he'd take care of it. It was Tommy, regardless of how you'd voice your distaste for it, hezd always take care of the situation.

"Does she need a bucket?"

"No, she's alright."

"Broke your glass Aunt Pol," you whisper. "M sorry,"

"It's alright poppet, I can get another one."

You nod slightly.

She takes off and you can here her Inform Arthur and John. You smile slightly.

"Is it happening often? I haven't seen you like this in almost two years. You just not telling us?"

Then music.

"'Not this bad," you sigh. "Smaller things though, yeah."

He nods slightly. "Alright,"

"M sorry you have to deal with it."

"Don't be, promise it's no trouble."

He takes your shirt from Polly and slips over your head. You pull your arms through.

It was a shirt he had made, it was soft, oa fabric you never seems to mind. It was years old, and you'd slip into it whenever things got to be too much, or texture just wasn't cooperating.

"Alright sweet girl," he squeezes your arm gently. "Let's move to the parlor." He lifts you as he stands.

"Tommy I can walk,"

"I know," he smiles. "I used to carry you when you were a kid though, and much less of a rat."

"Not a damn rat," you grumble, thankful when he sets you on the couch.

"You alright?" John asked worriedly.

"You don't need a bucket do you?"

"Why do you all keep asking if I need a bucket? No Arthur, I appreciate the concern, I don't need a bucket."

"So you're alright?" John asks again.

"Yes, stupid, I'm fine." You smile softly.

[fleecy-fawkes91]

So I went over to my aunt and uncle's today to visit with some of my bio dad's family for the holiday.

Now, my aunt and uncle run a daycare from their home, and she was talking about this kid they've been working with that has some behavioral issues and things and how he finds he can center himself by like, jumping up and down really hard. And she says something to the effect of like "y'know I get it, because..." And proceeds to list all these different sensory things she experiences and how like for example she can't just cut the tag off shirts she has to cut it and wrap it in soft fabric tape otherwise she cannot focus past it and just...things that are making me go "hmmmmmm"

Because I've been peer reviewed diagnosed ADHD, and she's also told me that it's prevalent on that side of the family. But I've also been kind of thinking like, at least for me, autism might go hand in hand right and I've been looking into it on my own, and a lot of what she's saying sounds an awful lot like what those oh so relatable memes talk about.

So I wait until it's just us in the kitchen and I suggest sort of casually like "hey all the stuff you think are just family quirks, have you ever thought it could be... autism?"

And bless her she just goes "no you see, we're sensory beings right, humans? And by your thirties, I think those are dulled in most people. But not us, we're smarter and that's why"

And I just have to go "okay sure, sure yeah that's definitely what it is" because I'll be damned if I'm gonna start shit with my favorite aunt but like....much to think about lol