#autistic females

[themaskedlady]

[bifflesnitch]

Everyone out here talking about how Disney movies gave them unrealistic expectations of men or a woman's waist to neck ratio meanwhile I was busy taking notes on courting rituals, specifically the "human mating call".

Cos I swear every Disney princess was just minding her own business, singing to herself in the woods, unwittingly luring men to her like a freaking siren.

Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid - their princes were all SMITTENED before even talking to them because of their beautiful voices.

Cut to my autistic ass doing Ariels "ahhhhhh ah ah ahhhhhHHHhhh" repeatedly off by myself on the playground expecting boys to just throw themselves at me in awe while they all gave me side eye from across the playground like "why's that weird girl always singing the same damn song to herself?".

[usernameaki33]

As an 18-year-old autistic person, I feel like I relate to my friends less and less. Perhaps this is because I mask so much, but I am beginning to stop masking and just be myself. It is definitely a good thing, but it is also very challenging. It is not at all simple. The more I reflect on it, the more I see how much of adolescence I missed out on—house parties, mostly. That is how I explain why I started reading fanfics: as a coping mechanism for missing events like parties, etc. I know this seems absurd, but reading about things people actually do does not cause me to have sensory problems.I just want to be able to socialise with other people. Being autism primarily affects communication, which is something I struggle with greatly. I'm a loner—and not in the clichéd sense—that I'm a loner . I am not sure what I am hoping to accomplish by sharing this, but maybe it may help other young women with autism who I can talk to. I am struggling day by day with terrible depression and anxiety, as well as Constance meltdowns. All I want is to not feel so alone.

[wiggispa0fartface]

when your already in horrible mental pain due to autistic burnout then your fucking period starts and you just bawl because you know this week's going to be even more of a living hell

[petrapi]

Looking for your next series with an Autistic protagonist, a real murder mystery, and non-cheesy humour that was written by, created, and stars an actually Autistic person? I mean... you found it. 25 year-old Petra Preston, a newly diagnosed Autistic detective, insists on running her amateur PI business HER way. But when extroverted and headstrong Ivy comes along with a juicy murder case, Petra must learn the importance of collaboration while working through her insecurities and shame left over from being a social outcast in a world made for neurotypicals. Please go show the trailer some love so we can get money to make this thing!!!

[here-be-fandoms]

141 babyyyy 🤓

Also, a sidenote: I am pleased by this number as it is so symmetrical and is the same backwards as forwards... LOL if the test doesn't show the autism clearly, I reckon that reaction sure does ahaha!

If you don’t know your score, take the test here

[callieyanderechan]

My headphones broke so I had to get a new pair and it's not a big deal but at the same time isn't it? Cause these new headphones aren't my old headphones, we do not have the same memories and they don't work the same way even though they literally do and they're a different colour so they aren't my favourite colour anymore

[themaskedlady]

[themaskedlady]

💙🩷🩵❤️

Autistic Women Are Too Much

Neurokinection

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Could I please request max x female autistic! reader (childhood friends to lovers if possible) where reader is nonverbal. I’ll leave the rest of the plot line to you because I’m not a very creative individual.

For me||Max verstappen x fem!nonverbal autistic!reader

summary—max has known you his entire life and never heard you speak until three little words to him.

Word count -570

Max Verstappen met you when he was a little boy at the karting track, just starting to chase his dream of being the fastest. You didn’t talk, but that didn’t bother him. From the moment you smiled and pointed at his kart with a curious glint in your eyes, Max decided he liked you.

“Do you want to see how fast it goes?” he asked.

You nodded eagerly, and Max grinned. That was how it started: Max showing off his karting skills, and you cheering him on in your quiet, unique way.

Years passed, and Max’s career skyrocketed. Karting turned into Formula 3, and then Formula 1. But no matter how far he traveled or how busy he got, you remained a constant in his life. You supported him from afar, watching every race and texting him your congratulations after each one. Max relied on you in a way he didn’t with anyone else. You understood him, even when he couldn’t find the words to explain himself.

He never minded that you didn’t talk. You communicated with gestures, expressions, and the notebook you always carried. It was your way, and Max respected that.

But then came that night.

Max had just returned home to Monaco after winning a grueling race in Japan. Exhausted but exhilarated, he invited you over to celebrate. You sat together on his couch, sharing a quiet moment as the city lights sparkled outside.

“You were incredible out there,” you wrote in your notebook, showing him the words with a proud smile.

Max chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “Thanks. You always know how to make me feel good about myself, huh?”

You nodded, then hesitated, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. Max noticed the shift in your demeanor immediately.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you.

You glanced at him, your eyes filled with something he couldn’t quite read. Then, for the first time in all the years he’d known you, you spoke.

“I love you.”

The words were soft, almost a whisper, but they hit Max like a thunderclap. His eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to process what had just happened.

“You… you spoke,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your cheeks flushing as you looked away, nervous about his reaction.

Max reached out, gently turning your face back toward him. “Say it again,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

“I love you,” you repeated, a little louder this time.

Max’s face broke into a wide grin, his heart pounding in his chest. “I love you too,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “I can’t believe it. You spoke—for me.”

You pulled back slightly, shaking your head as you pointed to yourself.

“For you,” Max corrected, understanding immediately. “Because you wanted me to know.”

You nodded, and Max laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You didn’t have to say it for me to know, but… hearing it? That’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He held your hands tightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You smiled, tears pricking your eyes as you leaned into him. In that moment, words didn’t matter again. They never really had. But now, Max knew just how much you loved him—and he’d never forget the moment you chose to say it.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Let The Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | Short Series - Part 1 of 4 - 2.6k

Bucky finds your file and is shocked to learn you're not in the field, despite your excellent test scores. Although Steve advises him to let it go, Bucky sets to work on convincing you instead.

Warnings: nothing yet really. Some reference to Bucky's time as the Winter Solider but it's very brief.

Masterlist | Let the Rain Fall Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Bucky dropped another manila folder onto the desk and leant back in his office chair with a sigh. Across the table Steve looked up from his equally towering pile of agent folders and eyed his friend.  

“Tired?” He asked, closing the latest file and placing it carefully with the others he’d already assessed.  

“This is exhausting, there must be a hundred agents here.” Bucky kept his face covered by his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.  

“Sixty.”  

“What?”  

“There’s sixty, but some of them already have positions.”  

“Of all the automated shit in this century, this, this, is what we have to do by hand?” 

Steve didn’t look up again, “it’s to keep staff information safe after...well...after everything.  

Bucky tensed; he knew what Steve meant by everything. Flashes of that day still came back to him sometimes in his dreams and his nightmares. Moments of clarity in an otherwise hazy memory, explosions, jets falling from the sky and water, fear and freedom. 

“Well, we already found the best candidate, right at the top, her scores and rankings are incredible.” 

Bucky handed Steve the folder, the covering page turned back so he could see the smiling face of the agent in her profile.  

Steve did look up then, “not her, sorry.” He ducked back down, folding the cover back over and attempting to take the folder from Bucky.  

“Why not? She’s a crack shot, scored well in all the reasoning tests and has excellent recommendations from her tutors. She even has a sealed folder from Xavier’s School, but she must have done well to get the college course she wanted.”  

“I know, but she requested desk duty and we’re respecting that. So, not her. She might do some digital recon, if you ask nicely. But she oversees the mission records now.”  

“Steve, she has a sealed envelope, what if it’s a power? How can you leave her on desk duty.” Bucky insisted.  

It was Steve’s turn to sigh, pushing his hand through his blonde hair until it stuck up in tufts. “Remember when you wanted desk duty? Remember how you have a sealed envelope in your folder? I respected you; I respect her. She’s a great Agent, but she’s not going into the field. Drop it.”  

The two men eyed each other for a second before Bucky stood, grabbing his leather jacket from the back of his chair. “I’m going for a walk. I need a break.”  

Bucky stalked through the Avenger’s compound, allowing the door to the private offices to close with a bang. He’d intended to head towards the gym to work off his frustrations at the incredibly tedious task of picking new agents and the even more frustrating realisation that the only agent he’d shortlisted had voluntarily taken themselves out of the field.  

Before he knew it, he was scanning his pass card and weaving his way through the open plan office that sat opposite the Avenger’s private space. He knew a few people here, mostly from bumping into them on the way into work or at the coffee shop on the ground floor.  

Stopping by one of the assistant’s desks he asked for directions to Mission Records, only to be pointed to a set of small, two people sized, meeting rooms that sat at the edge of the otherwise open space.  

Cautiously he picked through the maze of desks and paused outside of the door. Inside he could hear the faint sound of humming and the swish of papers, after a few seconds there was a dull thud as if something had dropped onto a desk and bounced off quickly. Underlying this was the sound of rain, despite the fact it was a dry day. 

Taking a shaky breath to steady his nerves, Bucky knocked on the door.  

“Who is it?” The voice inside was high and lilting, definitely nervous.  

“Uhm - it’s Sergeant Barnes...” Bucky tried to sound authoritative but, honestly, he hadn’t been in charge of anyone or anything since he was Steve’s second in 1945 and now that he was trying, panic was rising inside of him like a tide.  

From behind the door, he heard another dull thump and the paper noise stopped, but the rain continued. 

“You can come in.”  

Bucky turned the handle slowly, ducking his head and wishing he’d at least taken a lap of the office to think of what he was going to say to you, and then he was inside.  

The small office space was considerably cooler than the main office, with the faint smell of fresh linen fabric softener. It wouldn’t normally be the kind of detail he’d notice, except that he liked it too and knew it wasn’t sold at the small grocery shop on the other side of the compound. You had to go all the way into town for anything other than Tony’s preferred fruit cocktail scent. He was lost in his thoughts when he looked up, and there you were.  

Your folder had boasted of your prowess with a gun, your efficiency with a knife, tenacity during physical training and, although there was a picture of you in your official agent’s uniform, he had not been prepared for meeting you in real life.  

He was, in fact, surprised to recognise you considering the wave of people that seemed to roam around the compound. He’d seen you eating alone on the grass outside, and reading in the atrium when it was raining after hours. It was odd to see you in your own office, you looked so different to the official image of you on file. 

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes.” You said, politely but with that edge of nervousness still bubbling beneath the surface. 

He took you in. Your soft, pale blue cotton shirt over what was clearly a pair of sweatpants, despite the fact they were a dark blue. Although your trousers fit you, the shirt was too large, it didn’t quite fit correctly and the sleeves were so long that your hands were covered up to your knuckles by the cuffs. As his gaze travelled over you, you shifted, pulling your hands inside of the sleeves completely and then tucking your hands under your thighs.  

You looked small, in such a large chair, wider than his own with a comfortable, quilted back and seat, your legs crossed neatly under your desk as if you were sitting on the floor.  

The desk itself was home to an array of trinkets and toys, all lined up along the top edge and around the double screen of your computer. Bucky marvelled at your ability to keep up with such a thing, he found his own laptop screen quite enough brightness. But then your room was darker than his office with Steve and the blaring overhead light.  

You shifted again, looking at him pointedly.  

“Would you like to sit down?” You indicated a round armchair that took up most of the rest of the space and he sat down heavily, aware of his large black boots and wide frame in such a small space.  

“Thanks,” he hesitated. 

Awkwardly, you quickly gave your name, as if he hadn’t read your folder a hundred times.  

You allowed one of your hands to be freed from its confines under your leg, but only to chew the pad of your thumb while you gazed somewhere over Bucky’s left shoulder.  

Bucky’s stomach turned over and he angled his shoulder back self consciously. You snapped your eyes to his and then looked down at your thumb, “sorry,” before snatching one of the toys from your desk and beginning to push the little plastic bubbles in and out.  

“I wanted to talk to you about your scores at the academy.”  

“Oh?” You kept your eyes on the toy.  

“They’re very good.”  

“Yes, I’m very proud of them myself.”  

“And you graduated college?”  

You looked up again, “look I know it took me a little longer than everyone else but I -”  

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, “it wasn’t a comment on how or when, just that you had.”  

“Oh,” you nodded, “okay.”  

Pop, pop, pop.  

“Sorry, did you need something from me? It’s just best if you’re really clear and then I can answer.” You placed the little plastic toy back in its place on the desk.  

“I wanted you to join the Avengers Agents, we have three open spots and I’d like you to take one of them.”  

“No, thank you.” You smiled at him, it was a friendly but firm smile that reached your eyes enough to let him know you were at least flattered, but that this really was a no and for some reason it made him absolutely furious.  

“If you’re worried about the other agents then -” 

“No, it’s not that. I don’t want to.”  

“There’s lots of training and -”  

“No, thank you.”  

“It’s a great -”  

“I said, no.” You snapped and then plastered that smile back on the lower part of your face. “Thank you.”  

You turned to your computer and began typing and Bucky stood feeling smaller than he had in a long time.  

“Can I ask why?”  

Your typing stopped but you didn’t look at him.  

“I already documented that I’d ask you, so if you don’t want to, I  just need a reason.” He waved at the twin stacks of paper in your ‘in’ and ‘out’ trays. “You know what the paperwork is like here.”

“I don't like the uniform, it’s itchy and uncomfortable. Is that good enough?” You cocked your eyebrow at him and then turned, pointedly, back to your work.  

Bucky left with a nod, closing the door quietly behind him and pausing long enough to hear the shift of paper again.  

Your conversation with Sergeant Barnes had left you rattled, so as soon as he’d walked away you closed your computer down with a sigh and left the office for the day. You’d come in extra early tomorrow to make up for it, it’d be quieter in the morning anyway and you could hopefully get ahead by 10am and then enjoy a quiet coffee and some time curled up reading before the next round of debriefs were submitted.  

The office was empty at 7.30am, the lights still off and the scent of the cleaners all-purpose spray still lingering in the air. You’d only managed to settle in and grab a coffee before there was a sharp knock on the door and a familiar shadow looming through the frosted glass.  

“Come in.”  

Sergeant Barnes opened the door tentatively and peeked around the frosted glass, “morning.” 

He smiled awkwardly, hovering in the doorway with a large black garment bag before you beckoned him in and pointed towards the spare chair.  

“Morning,” you smiled back automatically, but before you could drop it a genuine flash of happiness passed over the Sergeant’s face and your smile moved from forced to genuine too. There weren’t many people who were actually happy to see you around the office, and yet here was Barnes, again, smiling at you.  

“I’m really sorry about yesterday.” He said, seriously, “I didn’t mean to push you, I was just worked up.”  

Whatever you’d been expecting when he’d knocked, it wasn’t this.  

“Oh, well.” You moved in your seat, pulling your hands inside your sleeves again, a navy-blue fleece lined sweater today, since the weather was unseasonably cold, the collar was turned over under your chin where you’d been fiddling with it. “I was short with you too, I can be a bit – sensitive, about – things. So, I’m sorry too.”  

“Then we’re even,” he smiled and settled into his chair more, looking around at your office.  

Suddenly you felt self-conscious, this was your space and it was hard won. You’d filled it with every soft thing that you needed to make it through your days in the office, cute mugs, fidget toys, blankets and even a teddy. While Sergeant Barnes was looking at your bookshelf you tried to move the little bear from his prominent position next to your monitor and into the open draw by your side, but he caught you and grinned instead.  

“Cute bear.”  

You snatched it up and squeezed its soft body between both your hands. “Thank you.”  

There was an awkward silence as the Sergeant seemed to think of what to say next and then he grabbed the garment bag again, as if he’d forgotten it as soon as he’d sat down.  

“Oh, yes, I was talking to Steve about what you said yesterday -” he looked up at your blank face, “Steve Rogers, you know ahh-” he rubbed his cheek as if he could remove the red smudge of embarrassment. 

“I guessed.”  

“Right, of course, I spoke to Steve, and he said that if that was what was holding you back then it was an easy fix and -” he pulled the zipper down on the bag revealing a black-on-black ensemble inside. Fitted combat trousers with pockets and an empty utility belt as well as a black, long-sleeved, shirt and flack vest. “It’s all made of a cotton blend with reinforced, lightweight, Kevlar. If you like it we can look at adding Vibranium for strength. It has a fleece lining, I noticed you had two fleece lined items in here and took a risk, so it should be soft on your skin. What do you think?”  

Bucky beamed at you from across your desk and your stomach twisted into knots, a yawning chasm of silence opening between you the longer you didn’t answer. You knew what you were supposed to say, you knew you were supposed to be excited and say yes and run off to be an Agent.   

“It smells like my fabric softener.” You blurted. 

“Yes, I figured you used the one from the store in town, I hope that wasn’t presumptuous?” 

For a moment you reached out to touch the sleeve, it was soft and it smelt lovely. But -

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes, I can see you’ve gone to a lot of effort -”  

“But it’s still a no?”  

“It’s still a no.”  

“Okay.” He said, kindly, zipping the garment bag back up. You expected him to leave, taking it with him, but instead he hung it on an empty hook by your door. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and that you’re welcome to join us anytime. There’s a big budget, especially for talented agents, I’d hate for something like a uniform to hold you back.” 

“Thank you.”  

“There’s a simple recon next week, Steve and I are leading some of the other newly qualified agents and he said you sometimes do recon, there’s a seat open for you if you want, but there’ll be no hard feelings if you don’t come.” 

“Okay.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the awkwardness or his earnest smile, but you had the urge to hug him. You hadn’t hugged anyone since you’d moved to the compound and you missed the comforting feeling of it, he even smelt lovely and for the briefest moment you imagined him holding you close to him. He had a black cotton shirt on with a dark green and blue flannel over the top. It looked soft, and now your arms felt empty and heavy at your sides, with no one to hold but yourself.It felt strange, too, to be wanted. You’d mostly assumed your colleagues were glad to be rid of you. Instead of embracing him, you stood and offered your hand, allowing him to squeeze your palm before he left, and then spent the next three hours wondering about his request.  

Part 2 ->

[deadghosy]

can I ask for a reader who hates loud noises, like what would the SB do?

SB WITH READER WHO HATES LOUD NOISE (Autism & misophonia friendly, representation matters)

Tom Riddle

It’s if loud, most likely the great hall. He has put a charm on your head phones to make sure it’s silent.

You love him for it as you eat happily to the peaceful sound no loud chattering

He always makes sure you are safe and not uncomfortable.

Mattheo Riddle

If it’s someone being loud, he confronts them.

Doesn’t matter if it’s polite or not. He doesn’t like the look on your face when it’s too loud and you fidget.

All he wants is for you to be comfortable.

Plus he bought you some headphone that’s in your favorite color.

Theodore Nott

He takes you out of the room that’s the loudest.

He knows you hate loud sounds and how it makes you jump and even feel stressful. So he could also use his hands over your ears.

Maybe talk over the loud sounds so he can distract you.

He’s such a gentleman!

Lorenzo Berkshire

Just like Theo, he’s taking you out of the room and talking to you.

Maybe you two can isolate from the loudness and just to each other and eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. It’s like a date. Just for different meals ☺️💕

He always reminds you to bring your headphones.

He makes sure you are prepared for anything else

[girlfromhvn]

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Wanda Maximoff x autistic!reader headcannons

Authors note: These are all my headcannons of autistic!reader, which are in turn based on me. This is rather self-indulgent, but when writing for autistic!reader I only have my own experiences as an autistic person to work with.

-Wanda is so very sweet when you become overstimulated.

-She makes sure you have what you need to avoid a meltdown.

-When you're having a same-food she'll buy it for you no matter what it is. Whether it's frozen TV dinners, McDonald's, and something from a restaurant. If it's the one thing she can get you to eat she'll make sure you have it.

-She turns her office into a sensory room for you. She still has her computer in there, but she hangs up fairy lights, a sensory swing, a projector of space for the ceiling, and a tent bed you could hide away in when you needed it

-When you get overstimulated she stays close, but doesn't touch unless you initiate it.

-She always carries extra of everything on her clothes, food, drinks, headphones, stim toys, meds...you get the idea.

-She helps get you communication cards and a pride pals lanyard with all the pin plaques you picked out. Of course you grabbed all the autistic and ADHD pins

-She loves listening to you when it comes to your special interests. She engages with it no matter what it is, even if she doesn't understand she'll ask all of the questions to learn more and to hear you talk.

-Wanda always makes sure if you aren't comfortable talking then she'll talk for both of you. She will check in with you to make sure you're okay.

-The two of you have special signs to each other so the other knows if the other is okay or if you need to exit stage left.

-With your love language being gift giving you're constantly finding things that remind you of Wanda and you'll get it without thinking (Wanda gave up on trying to tell you not to do this)

-Wanda learned early on in the relationship that due to childhood trauma due to being autistic you regress at times. She loves taking care of her little girl.

[dearinnerchild]

i get mean when i’m nervous like a bad dog

[modeus-the-misanthrope]

Saw a bunch of "Primarch GF" and "Custodes GF" posts while trying to edit together a shitpost about 40k. So I naturally got sidetracked and made my own version. Behold my "Yandere" Custodes GF.