#bad sensory apparently

[whumpy-wyrms]

whos otto

IM GLAD YOU ASKED.

okay so i’m gonna make an actual post introducing these guys in a lot more detail (since there is SOO much lore already) so i won’t explain much here but basically Ollie is a triplet and his two other siblings are named Otto and Oakley

this is Otto:

it’s a lab rat mainly used to test out all sorts of drugs that fucked it up a bit. it’s very unhinged and deranged and WILL give you rabies and is also emitting deadly amounts of radiation at all hours and is kept alive by this other test subject named Aster who has healing powers. do not get in within 20 feet of this thing or you will DIE /j. otto is such a specimen. the creature.

it’s transfem but only figures that out after it escapes being a test subject (and become a mad scientist!!!!!). but it’s actually fine with any pronouns, but the main ones are it/she (i’m also working on figuring out a new name for Otto since she definitely changes it to something much sillier after she figures out her identity more)

[pixlmonkeys]

I say this with the deepest sense of hatred imaginable, fuck this article

[goldensunset]

i should make a deal with my family that’s like ‘i can wash dishes and do other chores for you if you promise to PLEASEpleasevpleade please. not bother me’

[blitz0hno]

I don't want to get off my phone I don't want to stay on my phone I don't want to pump gas I don't want to do deliveries I don't want to get ready for bed I don't want to write anything of substance I don't want to create I don't want to not create I don't want to be here I don't want to go anywhere I don't want to move I don't want to stay still my brain and body seem to simply want to sit here and Yearn

[equalperson]

this is like, the worst take of the day for me. we have:

the use of psychological disabilities only for the sake of an argument

the weird idea that personal morals should trump evidence in labeling people as psychologically disabled

the extremely dangerous idea that anyone considered "disruptive" or "disrespectful" should suddenly be pathologized

the idea that the only people who are disruptive/disrespectful are marginalized people

the lack of distinction between being antisocial and narcissistic

all in one thread. i know that sanism and overmedicalization are normalized, but how do you type something this ignorant and not realize you're not making sense. and how did 24k people agree.

[jayykesley]

okay i’m getting to the point in Trying A New Hobby where i get angry

[pumpking64]

ohhh damn sensory overload is hitting hard today. why do people need to leave their house for fun on a sunday? if anyone has a go to trick to relieve this, i’d love to know

[inmirova]

giggling and twirling my hair and kicking my feet in the air while telling my therapist that I cried in the grocery store because they didn't have the matzah that I like

[rostii]

woman in my class playing her music out loud it is too loud AND she's singing along. that is at least one too many noises.

[ozzyfromthecafeteria]

man i wonder if i’m ever going to get those birth control shots or not. oh wait nvm appointment is soon

[steampunk-swift-arrow]

You know, with the amount of talking I've done with my sister today, you wouldn't think I was struggling to be verbal today

[ourceliumnetwork]

golly, y'all. I think i might have trauma surrounding family gatherings, and it manifests in extreme anxiety with regards to travel, and my adherence to strict dress codes according to Extremely High Standards (which tends to mean i Overdress constantly and that's more embarrassing than under-dressing imo)

[amphibifish]

sometimes i think i might have autism

[alexanderwales]

My son has been having some behavioral issues, so we've been doing arduous consultations and screeners and questionnaires to try to get some kind of guidance, which has been very frustrating. Everyone in the broad field of child psychology has said either "have you talked about autism" or "have you talked about ADHD", and sometimes both, because they're comorbid. But in order to get an actual diagnosis, you need to find the right people who are qualified to actually make a determination.

So a few days ago, this culminated in us finally talking to the guy who had the answers, at least according to modern child psychology, and he said that no, there's not really a basis for a clinical diagnosis of either autism or ADHD. There are still the behavioral issues, which are most of the reason we went for testing (along with some inattention, fidgetyness, sensory issues, and other things that are sometimes markers), but that's apparently something to work on with therapy and maybe will just go away as he gets older and matures.

But the other thing that the guy with the answers had to say was that maybe a lot of this can be explained by really high test scores in the cognitive stuff. We knew he was a smart kid, but the guy with the answers said that our son is three standard deviations above normal on all the cognitive tests, including an IQ test that I didn't know was a part of it, and that this is perhaps why he's so bored at school and difficult to keep engaged.

I think that's maybe part of the answer, but not the whole thing. I've been trying to prepare this child to not have gifted kid syndrome his whole life, trying to make sure he doesn't just breeze through everything and then crumble when he faces a challenge because he doesn't know what to do when something is actually tough. It doesn't matter how smart you are if you don't put in the work, if you can't overcome obstacles, if you coast through life. Those lessons do not seem to have sunk in at all, so I don't know.

But as we're getting ready to leave, my wife came in with her particular brand of humor.

Wife: So you're saying it's not too late to install some lead pipes in the house, right? That might be the solution to all our problems.

To his credit, the guy with the answers laughed, and then said, "yeah, or maybe asbestos".

Later, in the car:

Wife: Asbestos doesn't cause lower IQ. Me: Yeah, I know. Wife: I should have said something. Me: That would have been very awkward. Wife: Maybe he would have appreciated the correction. Me: I really don't think he would have. Wife: But you noticed too, right? My joke about lead was good, and his follow up about asbestos was bad. Me: My very first thought was "I hope she doesn't say something about this". Wife: You love me. Me: I do, but sometimes when we're talking to people together, I'm very aware of what you're going to say. Wife: It's not too late. I could message him. Me: I know you're joking, but please please don't. Wife: I wouldn't. Me: You wouldn't, unless it was funny. Wife: Yeah, and it would be hilarious, so ...

We at least know where the boy gets his tendency for pedantry from.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I read the story about the tiny feral Orion Pax and I want a second part where Alpha Trion randomly showed up at the Autobot base and told stories about how feral Optimus was when he was just a sparkling to the Autobots and humans alike. I think Ratchet might remember the incidents as he might have had to repair the little monster a few times

Hmm well I doubt he'd actually turn up at base proper, but I CAN see Smokescreen being the one to speak of things Alpha Trion told him. Bonus funnies if he has no clue that "Orion Pax" Is Optimus Prime.

The other piece with Trion can be found here. Plus the series of Smokey things this is attached to can be found here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

For once, the base was filled with laughter and cheer. After a particularly stressful battle, Wheeljack had seen fit to bring out high-grade for everyone's enjoyment. To 'let off steam' he said. Ratchet attempted to shut down the idea before it could fully root itself in the minds of those present, but surprisingly, Optimus permitted it. Perhaps the rumors weren't entirely true. Maybe Primes did party.

It hadn't taken long for the Wreckers to pull out cubes and start handing out Wheeljack's special brand of high-grade.Smokescreen had never been given the chance to indulge in the drink, but now that he was a warrior and Alpha Trion wasn't breathing down his neck, the overcharged liquid flowed freely. He felt a bit like a sparkling with his servo caught in the goodie jar, but he relaxed upon seeing Bumblebee whip out a straw and start going to town on his cube.

Admittedly, watching Bumblebee fuel was a bit unsettling since he lacked a good portion of his jaw, but Smokescreen simply refocused on his own treat.

The high-grade was sweet, almost like candy that had been melted down. And yet it was also bubbly, bordering on the texture and taste of a ration a few cycles from going bad. Despite both those things, Smokescreen found he enjoyed the drink, especially as a pleasant buzz started to run along his systems. The world seemed all the brighter as the high-grade quietly sent his auxiliary sensory protocols into hazy inactivity. Was this what the humans felt like all the time? Limited just to sight and hearing?

It was kind of novel.

As the high-grade flowed, Smokescreen noticed that the team seemed to share his feelings on the matter of overcharge. Before too long, bots laughed and sang; a few even began to open up. Smokescreen watched it all from the sidelines for the most part, listening as the Wreckers began exchanging stories and Arcee went into detail about a few of her more exciting missions. Even Bee chimed in with a retelling of some fun events that went on during training. But the story swapping didn't really get wild until Ratchet of all bots spoke up.

"There was this one time I had to patch up Orion. He apparently decided it would be a fantastic idea to attempt parkour like Jazz. Without any training, no less." The team laughed. Smokescreen snickered into his drink. The name Orion sounded familiar, but it was not something that immediately registered in his memory banks.

"Jazz dragged him into my clinic with a broken leg, one dislocated shoulder, half his plating shredded, and his right audial half torn off." Ratchet laughed, nudging Optimus with a shoulder. The Prime didn't comment and instead smiled softly as he sipped his drink. The team joined the medic in his mirth, commenting quietly and giggling like younglings.

"According to someone, 'it seemed like a great idea at the time'." The medic chuckled into his high-grade, more than a little buzzed due to it. As he did so, Smokescreen recognized the name at last.

"Oh, I think I know who you are talking about! Orion Pax! The head archivist! Alpha Trion told me all about him!" Smokescreen's words, thank Primus, didn't end up coming out too slurred as he spoke up. The team paused in their activities, their optics falling on him in interest. Even Optimus's optics widened in what he could only assume was interest. Smokescreen suffered momentary stage fright, but he continued on with his thought.

"Trion said that Orion was brought into the archives when he was still a sparkling, and that he was a little menace." Ratchet laughed outright at the statement, slapping Optimus's shoulder in amusement before going back to his drink all giggly. Wheeljack poured himself and the rest of the team another cube in response.

"Well, don't keep us waiting, kid. What'd the old cogger say?" Wheeljack grinned like a terrorcon, earning a baleful glare from Optimus. Smokescreen, however, in his high-grade fueled stupor, didn't recognize any potential danger and continued on with his story. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it after all.

"I never would have guessed the head archivist would be the way he was, but according to Trion, he liked to lick datapads." There was a momentary silence, one only emphasized by Optimus staring at Smokescreen in horror. He almost regretted opening his mouth, but that fear went flying out the window as Ratchet cackled and promptly slapped the nearest surface as he wheezed out his laughter. He was almost incoherent as he pointed at Optimus, his optics flashing with emotion only brought out by overcharged drinks. "I fragging knew my medical texts had fluid on them!" Smokescreen stared at Ratchet in momentary concern, but his focus was drawn back to the story he was telling as Arcee gave him a wolfish grin along with a question.

"He licked datapads?" The two-wheeler looked to be trying desperately to keep her composure. Smokescreen couldn't exactly blame her. There weren't many bots who had habits like the old head archivist. Licking datapads of all things, he could hardly picture the sanitary concerns. But then again, Smokescreen wasn't much better with a few of his well-hidden preferences.

"Yeah! Guess the head archivist thought they tasted good or something. Trion said Orion Pax never really got over the habit and occasionally gnawed on them when stressed." That was enough to have Bulkhead leaning against the nearest wall for support. Ratchet for his part dropped to his knees, clutching his abdomen as his vents flared in response to his howling laughter. He seemed to find it far more funny than anyone else, but the Doctor's reaction urged Smokescreen on, especially as Bumblebee snorted into his drink and splattered it on his face.

"That wasn't all he did, though! Alpha Trion told me all about how the head archivist used to climb the pillars in the archives! There were still claw marks in the metal when I was there." Another round of spark clenching laughter met his declaration. Arcee outright wheezed, trying desperately not to look in Optimus's direction. Bumblebee wasn't much better, or Wheeljack for that matter. Both looked a moment away from combusting as they tried to hold back laughter. Bulkhead just leaned harder against the wall, a servo brought up to his mouth as Ratchet cackled on the ground.

Smokescreen paused in his story, watching the team and their frantic attempts to not look at their Prime. He tilted his helm in confusion, watching as Optimus held his cube with a neutral expression. However, looking closer through his auxiliary heat sensing systems, Smokescreen could catch the faintest hints of what looked to be a blush of all things. Was this what the rumors meant when they said Primes didn't party?

"I was given the head archivist's old room while I was there, for that matter. It was just me with Trion most of the time, so I got the closest room to his, which just happened to be Pax's." Smokescreen rubbed his neck a little sheepishly, sensing that there was something he might have missed.

"He had some weird habits, sure. But I got to see a few of his old records, and he seemed really nice! Just a bit off is all." Somehow, his attempt at easing the strange tension coming from Optimus did the exactly opposite. He could almost see the way Optimus's shoulders slumped as Ratchet continued to lose his mind on the ground, drink forgotten.

"What sort of habits?" Bumblebee chimed in, his binary tones still a bit difficult to decipher, but not impossible. Smokescreen paused for a moment, unsure if he should continue seeing how stressed Optimus appeared. He wasn't sure why the Prime seemed so uncomfortable, but it was probably a good idea to not tempt fate.

"I uh… I don't want to damage the poor mech's reputation since he's probably not around anymore." Smokescreen fiddled with his drink, his enthusiasm dimmed. But before he could fully close himself off, Ratchet hobbled his way over, grinning and tapping Smokescreen's chassis.

"Go on, tell us about it. I can assure you, as one of Orion's oldest friends, he won't be upset." Smokescreen reset his optics. But seeing the entirety of the team, save for Optimus, looking enthused… well he couldn't exactly say no, now could he?

"Well, Orion Pax had a hero wall in his room. It was well hidden. I found it behind a wall panel that I kicked by accident." Every passing moment made Optimus look more and more willing to perish. All the while, the team leaned in closer, eager to hear to an almost rabid degree. Smokescreen was more than a little nervous, but he continued on.

"The whole thing was covered in posters and snippets of gladiators, various political figures, and a LOT of Soundwave pics. Guess Pax was into freaky mechs." Uproarious laughter met Smokescreen's words as Ratchet moved over to Optimus and slapped his arm, his optics bright and hazy from the high-grade and amusement. Finally, Optimus frowned in discontentment and Smokescreen took that as his cue to wrap up.

It seemed like the Prime was done with the whole partying business.

"To be fair, it was very beautifully put together!" More laughter met him, this time from Bumblebee and Wheeljack who had to lean on the nearest surface for support. Arcee just shook like a bomb about to go off, her grip on her cube shaky and uncertain as she fought back a smile. Bulkhead just wheezed in the corner.

Smokescreen fidgeted with his digits nervously.

"I… I saved something from his room, actually." The laughter eased for a moment as the team looked over at him curiously. Even Optimus's frown relaxed a degree as Smokescreen hastily dug through his sub-space. He didn't have to know why Optimus seemed so uncomfortable with the discussion. For all he knew, Orion might have been a good friend. It seemed like a good idea to pull out something less humorous.

It took him a moment, but soon enough, Smokescreen pulled out a small vial. It glowed blue, showing the innermost energon within it. Smokescreen almost felt bad holding the thing. Innermost energon was only meant for mecha important to an individual, and here he was, some random guardsmech who rooted around in the head archivist's room. The only reason he'd picked it up and shoved it in his subspace to begin with was because he originally intended to give it to Alpha Trion for safekeeping. Of course, that had to have been the very same night the attack on Iacon occurred.

"Is that-?" Bulkhead spoke up, but cut himself short as Optimus stepped forward, his optics wide.

"Innermost energon… a gift intended for an amica." Any laughter died in it's cradle as Optimus tenderly reached out. Smokescreen didn't hesitate to pass over the vial, watching as the mood shifted into something more solemn.

The Prime ran his digits over the small vial, his optics cycled wide as if he were a newbuild. His field pulsed in waves of old sorrow for a long moment, earning him a gentle touch from Ratchet once the Doctor composed himself enough to come closer. The rest of the team stayed silent, each of them seeming to know something important regarding Optimus and Orion Pax that Smokescreen was not privy to.

"Did you know archivist Pax? If that's the case… I'm sorry for throwing his secrets around. I just assumed that with the war and all, considering he was a civilian, he probably didn't…" Smokescreen trailed off, not wanting to meet the gazes of anyone present as the high-grade in his system eased enough to let him think clearly. What sort of aft mocked the dead? Slag, he'd messed up.

"I intended to gift this to Soundwave in the hopes that by being amica, we might be able to grow close enough to help Megatronus more efficiently." The words registered, but they did not fully compute as the Prime lifted the vial, watching it sadly.

"It was to be a bond to bind us for a lifetime, as Megatronus's right and left servos. His guides and aids in the battle for Cybertron's freedom." Ratchet held Optimus's arm, his field pulsing in age old grief that Smokescreen could hardly comprehend. The rest of the team simply observed.

"I planned to gift this token after our meeting with the High Council… but that event destroyed any brotherhood that might have lingered between us." A deep sigh escaped the Prime then, the air growing heavier with ancient regret.

"I lost more than just Megatronus that cycle. I lost so much more than him." With a weary flare of his field, Optimus held the vial a little longer before passing it back to Smokescreen. Only as he held it did everything click.

"You are Archivist Pax?" Optimus smiled ever so slightly at that.

"I was, long ago. But Orion no longer lingers here. He is but an echo of a happier time." With that, the Prime turned to leave, seemingly done with it all.

"Please, enjoy your evening. Do not allow my lamentations to ruin your celebrations." Without another word, Optimus hurried off toward his hab. The team watched in worry for a while, and Smokescreen fiddled with the vial while contemplating the implications of everything. But eventually, the team returned to their activities. Wheeljack put on a movie and poured more drinks. Bulkhead set up makeshift seating, Bumblebee sat down to watch the film with Arcee. Ratchet, for his part, passed out without meaning to five kliks into the movie.

Smokescreen took the opportunity to step away and follow after Optimus, soon finding himself knocking on the Prime's door.

When it opened, Smokescreen held out the vial, his door wings dipped in anxiety.

"I'm sorry for saying all that stuff about you! I didn't mean anything by it! And… I'm sorry I brought up bad memories." He didn't look up, he couldn't bring himself to. Without intending it, he'd hurt Optimus's reputation and brought up old losses. He'd messed up.

"Smokescreen."

Optimus's voice was gentle, almost sad as he reached out and pressed the vial back into Smokescreen's servos. His optics widened in shock, quickly forcing him to start up at the Prime in confusion.

"Do not feel guilty for what you have done. It was in good faith, and I know your spark." The Prime smiled tenderly as he clasped Smokescreen's shoulder, a fond gesture that seemed both so very right and wrong all at once.

"This is yours. It's your innermost energon. Don't you want it back?" His question rang out, unanswered for a long while. But after a klik, Optimus shook his helm.

"It is a remnant of a time long gone by. I would rather it come to new servos and represent something other than what it was originally intended to signify." With that, the Prime's servo moved down. The next thing Smokescreen knew, Optimus was holding his servos, a kind expression on his face.

Why? Why would Optimus trust him with such a thing?

"I don't understand." He murmured faintly as he heard the distant sounds of the movie playing in the background.

"You were also a student of Alpha Trion. You served him as I did, so long ago." Optimus, to Smokescreen's shock dropped to a knee to put them on equal level. He had no words. How could he? Optimus was on his knees just so they could speak at the same level.

"We are all that remains of our master, and in a sense, that ties us together." Smokescreen's field flared in disbelief, but also… relief. He'd been alone in his thoughts since his arrival. The team didn't know him, so they didn't really talk to him. The humans were nice enough, but they could never understand.

To know he had someone who cared? Who knew the loss?

"We're kind of like brothers then." Smokescreen laughed softly, nervously even. But Optimus didn't refute him. The Prime simply hummed and squeezed his servos. Somehow, that simple act conveyed more than words ever could.

"Keep this token of my youth, Smokescreen. Erase the sorrow it brings with a new promise, or perhaps remembrance for our departed teacher." Quietly, Optimus released his grip and stood back up, his expression strangely peaceful. He stood in his doorway for a while, seemingly thinking. Then, he nodded.

"If all else should fail, remember me, little brother." Then, just like that, the door slid closed.

Smokescreen stared for a while, unable to move. When he did, he meandered back to his room in silence, staring down at the small vial.

"Brothers…"

He murmured into the night, and as he did so, his view of the Prime shifted. Optimus was his leader, his idol, his Prime.

But beneath all that, hidden behind layers of rank and order, was someone he could trust. Someone who understood.

A mech he might one day dare to openly call a friend.

[niphredil-14]

EEEEEEEE your writings make me roll around happily!

May I request a Donnie x reader where they communicate via asl during his non-verbal episodes? So we all know that Donnie knows asl and binary code, and it's theorised that his eyebrows are also important to express what he wants to say non-verbally (I heard that your expressions are also important in asl).

So imagine Donnie, during his non-verbal episodes and talking seems more tiring than usual. Unresponsive to reader's words and he'd just nod and his face is more expressive. Noticing this, reader pat Donnie's shoulder and starts to sign, and that's how their conversation went.

Cue Donnie falling hard.

I know that this has taken absolute ages to get out, so thanks for your patience! Also, if the quality of this is less than great, this is the first thing I've written (aside from school writing) in ages.

TSL- Turtle Sign Language

Don never had been very good at acknowledging his own feeling and needs, which, although he would deny it even in the face of torture, did frequently cause him many a problem. Such as the common occurrence of Donnie denying and ignoring his sensory issues, exhaustion and stress, which when all put together, caused him to shut down. That was where they found him, on the floor by the foot of his bed, knees pressed to his plastron, with a weighted blanket replacing his battle shell. The lights were all off, except for the tablet propped up a foot or so away from him, soft sounds of someone whispering, most likely an ASMR video, playing from the device. After a quick knock on the door, they cracked it open and peeked inside, not bothering to wait for an answer. His eyes glanced up from the tablet to meet their gaze.

"Is it okay if I come in?" They said softly. He nodded, and watched as they walked in and closed the door behind them, making their way over to him. They pointed to the open space on the floor next to him, and with their voice low, and just as soft,

"Do you mind if I sit?" Donnie raised his eyebrows and gave them a small smile, giving a small shake of his head before jerking it sideways, to motion for them to sit with him. After getting situated, they asked another question,

"Are you okay, Dee? Leo said you left really suddenly." Donatello gave a light shrug, pulling the weighted blanket more around his shoulders, before finally giving them a small nod. Upon not receiving a response from his companion, he let his eyes wander back to the video. The screen displayed a dim background with fairy lights and a woman holding her index finger up and slowly drawing patterns in the air in front of her, asking after each one what shapes and images she had traced. The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, following the woman's directions and answering her questions, until Donnie's attention was grabbed by his friend, who leaned forward and was staring intently at him. He turned his head to gaze at them, and raised the muscle over his browbone, causing the faded, drawn-on eyebrow on his mask to raise almost as drastically. They seemed to take a moment to think before they raised their hands a bit and began to motion, forming signs familiar to Don.

'Is there anything I can do to help you?" Donnie's eyes shot wide open, and he released his grip on the weighted blanket to raise his hands and sign back to them.

'You know sign?' He questioned them, one thick, marker-made eyebrow raised comically higher than the other. His signs looked slightly different, which they assumed was just an adaptation made due to his distinct anatomy, but they could understand him regardless. They smiled wide at him, a proud glint in their eyes, and began to sign their affirmation to him. A smile formed on his face, his bad-boy image being challenged by just how heartwarmingly sweet the look in his eyes was. Their hands began to move again.

'So, is there anything I can do?' His own hands flying in response, his excitement and joy apparent with the speed at which he moved his hands, and the expression shining so brightly on his face.

'Just being here with me is really helpful, thank you.' Their smile grew to match his.

'You don't need to thank me, Don, there's nowhere I'd rather be.'