#before anyone gets concerned I’m Autistic

[donutfloats]

Showing off their scrunglies

[nurse-floyd]

In His Arms

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Warnings: mentions of autistic meltdowns, sensory overload etc.

This is my own personal experience with autism, there is no one universal experience blah blah (you know the drill)

This one is for my (grateful) anon and @faithshouseofchaos

Taglist: @bibissparkles @vivwritesfics

You loved going to work with Danny, you loved seeing the cars, seeing your friends and being there to support him. You were used to the noise of the paddock but sometimes that noise became too much.

Being autistic sucked, well you were used to it, being all you'd known and with Danny who loved you regardless and did anything he could to accommodate you, you'd learned to love yourself again. That didn't mean you still didn't have your struggles.

Tiredness and jet lag meant that today was one of those days and despite your boyfriend being by your side, the noise of the paddock as cameras and media set up and engineers worked on cars, people squeezing by you and bumping into you; it all got too much. 

Despite your best efforts, none of your coping mechanisms the pair of you had come up with seemed to be working. You tried to focus on taking deep even breaths but that you made you hyperaware of your body and frustrated you. Then you tried to focus on the weight of the fidget in your hand and counting your steps as you walked through the VCARB hospitality tent and focussed on just getting somewhere quieter. You’d only just felt comfortable enough to use the fidgets in public, hating bringing attention to yourself but Danny was so reassuring over the matter, quite literally threatening to tell anyone to ‘eat shit’ who dared say anything. The other drivers didn't seem to mind much either, in fact you'd had one or two fidgets stolen by Lando and Max in the past which you knew you were never getting back.

Days like this sucked. Danny was busy, this was his job, of course he was and you didn’t want to interrupt him with his busy schedule. But, no matter how busy he was, he always kept an eye on you when you were in the paddock. He knew you better than you knew yourself and was able to spot the signs of overwhelm and sensory overload before you even caught on sometimes; that's how in tune he was with you. No matter how busy he was or demanding his schedule, he always made time to check in on you regularly, especially on his busier days when he couldn’t always be beside you. 

When he couldn’t find you immediately after his media duties, he began to worry. That's when he found you curled up in a corner in the team's hospitality area, your hands against your ears and your eyes squeezed shut as you gently rocked back and forward. Something that usually helped to regulate you.

You felt a presence with you but didn't care much until you heard his voice, low and steady. “Hey. Hey sweetheart, it’s okay,” Danny's soft voice broke through the panic that surrounded you. You looked up to find him crouched in front of you, holding out his hands for yours which you took gratefully. “I’m here. You’re alright. I’ve got you.” 

He was your everything, literally. Your lifeline at that moment. You could just about make him out through the blurriness of the tears in your eyes but his face was full of nothing but concern and love for you. 

Danny guided you away from the busy area and toward his much quieter drivers room where you could be alone. He sat you down on the couch and knelt in front of you at your level, all the while he kept his voice low and soothing. 

“Want to try some breathing exercises to help calm down a little?” 

You were grateful he gave you the choice, it helped you feel some ounce of control over the situation and you nodded. He took a deep breath, encouraging you to do the same and for you to follow his lead. Danny squeezed your hands in time with your breaths, the touch also helping to ground you and keep you in the present.

In…and out…in…and out.

Slowly you felt yourself begin to calm for the first time since you stepped into the paddock. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he asked, his voice still low. “You’re doing so good. Just keep breathing with me.” 

You lifted your head, your eyes met his as you gave him a sad pout, hating to ruin his day. 

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking he was quick to interrupt those thoughts, “it’s okay to feel what you feel, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re in this together.” 

His words and his calming presence all helped to soothe and ground you. The overload and meltdown slowly began to fade into the background. He eventually joined you on the couch, wrapping a protective arm around you as the tension eventually left your body and you sagged into his side, completely spent by the meltdown. He could feel you breathing more even as he continued rubbing his hand up and down your arm in a soothing manner. 

“Feeling better?” he asked, as he placed a kiss to your temple. 

“Yeah…a bit, thank you,” you whispered.

He placed another kiss to the side of your head, “always sweetheart.” 

You knew you couldn’t go back out there and Danny would never force you. He set you up with a blanket and the small TV in his room so you could watch him from the safety and quiet of the room. He made a mental note to order some VCARB branded noise canceling headphones especially for you and to always travel with a few more things that would make it easier for you whenever you came to watch him drive. 

[multifandomfanficss]

It’s About Time

Ed Nygma/The Riddler x Reader

Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.

A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.

“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”

“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”

“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.

“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.

He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.

“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.

“Why is that?” He asks.

“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”

“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.

You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.

Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.

“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.

“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.

“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.

“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.

Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.

“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.

“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.

“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.

“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“

“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.

“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.

When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.

You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.

You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.

After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.

“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.

“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.

“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.

You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.

“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.

“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.

“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.

“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.

After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.

When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.

“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.

“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.

“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.

“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.

“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.

“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.

“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.

“Thank you.”

Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.

“How do you do it?” You ask.

“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.

“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”

“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”

“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”

“You think so?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.

“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.

“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”

“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.

The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.

Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.

“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.

“When will what stop?” He asks.

“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”

“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.

“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”

Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.

“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.

“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.

“Is this helping?” He asks.

“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.

“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.

“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.

“It was nothing.” He smiles.

“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.

“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”

“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.

“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.

“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.

“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”

[kiragecko]

A few weeks ago, I flew to visit my grandma with my little brother and sister. My little brother had never been on a plane, and my sister only has once, almost a decade ago. It was an experience.

All three of us are in our 30s and neurodivergent��. My little brother has Down’s Syndrome² and is probably autistic. He communicates mostly through echolalia³.

I suspected there might be challenges, so I tried to contact the airline before purchasing tickets. This did NOT work. The Westjet agents weren’t allowed to discuss anything with me until I had booked a flight. I was purchasing nonrefundable tickets. The website was quite clear that they could kick us from the plane if they couldn’t support our needs. And they wouldn’t tell me if they could support our needs!

I ended up calling around 8 times. Finally, after purchasing tickets and jumping through all the hoops, someone was willing to talk. They mostly said that everything was up to the people letting us on to the flight, but at least they talked to me!

My main concern was the pacing. My brother’s favourite activity is pacing in circles and repeating movie/song quotes to himself. Once we got on the plane things would be fine (we had movies for him to watch), but I was concerned that other passengers waiting to board would find this stressful. Like - that isn’t our problem, it’s their’s - but flying is hard! If there was a way for us to not add more stress, I wanted to find it!

The airline was zero help, so we did our best to prepare on our own. My uncle died the day before the trip, and that increased stress levels. My autistic sister was dealing with that, a sense of responsibility for my brother, and also anxiety about a mostly-new experience (flying).

-

And then the plane gets delayed.

By an hour, at first.

The airline said we should be there TWO HOURS early for domestic flights. Which is ridiculous. TWO HOURS??? Especially since everything before security can now be done online? But we obediently turn up two hours before the new flight time, and are immediately directed to the priority security line. Which is good. Even the short line is boring for my brother, and I can’t let him pace in the few open spaces. But ten minutes later we’re at our gate, ready to leave.

Now we just have to wait for an hour and fifty minutes!

We had hoped my brother would want to watch his first movie. But he's riled up from lines and crowds and gets right to pacing. A few people have to slow down as they pass, but he’s not hurting anyone, so I let him be.

I’m more worried about my sister, now. She lives with the aunt that found my uncle. She hasn’t slept in days, worrying about the trip. She isn’t handling the noise and crowds. So I keep an eye on my brother (at least 50% to make sure he doesn’t take some of the chocolate he keeps eyeing when he passes the gift shop), occasionally ask if he wants to watch a movie, and watch my sister slowly descend into a panic attack. Not fun. Eventually I send her to the bathroom, hoping that it will be quieter and she can calm down.

BUT! Events have happened during this time! The plane has been delayed another 15 minutes! It is explained that they have had to replace the plane with one they haven’t yet finished retrofitting. This new plane doesn’t have as much overhead baggage space. They need at least 15 pieces of carry-on luggage to be checked. If the passangers aren’t willing to do this, there will be large delays once loading starts, as people are FORCED to check their luggage. Also, there’s no first class on the new plane. Or charging ports. Or meals. Or in-flight entertainment. First class passengers can request some money back. And if anyone misses their connecting flight due to the delays, tickets to their new flights will be provided upon landing.

People start to get tired and stressed. The intercom keeps threatening them. Now it’s 30 bags that need to be checked. Delays will be even longer if this doesn’t happen!

At this point, security shows up. They ask if anyone will take responsibility for the pacing guy. I do. They show visible discomfort with the situation, and his disability. Can I make him stop pacing? I can try, but probably not. Please do that, it is bothering the other passengers. Oh? Really?? Who could have guessed that?!

My brother is NOT willing to sit down. We stand in the concourse, while I talk to him about sitting down and he makes annoyed sounds at me. I’m not about to force him. I don’t want us to get kicked out of the airport, but can they do that for something as minor as acting weird in public? Mostly, I’m worried about all our electronics, which I abandoned in the open when security showed up. I’m not sure if security will try something with my brother if I leave him to pace while I clean things up.

And now, the hero shows up. The head of security has been called, and he comes over and asks me if there’s anything my brother needs. No, there isn’t, he’s quite happy to pace. It’s everyone else that is being bothered.

“I don’t care about them. He has just as much right to this space as they do. I just want to make sure you guys have everything you need. Would he like a sensory package?”

He wouldn’t like a sensory package, but this guy’s offer of the chapel as a quiet space IS interesting. Mostly because my sister is off in sensory shut-down somewhere, and needs a quiet space. But also because I could relax a little nobody would be watching us, and I could relax if my brother had an enclosed room to pace in. (No chocolates!)

As I’m agreeing to this, my sister returns. Head of Security respectfully tries to explain the situation to her. I look at her hunched body language and tell him to just talk to me. Then I send her to pack up our stuff. He wants to Include Her. She really, really does not want to be included.

He also wants to Include my brother. It’s kind of cute. He’s overflowing with good intentions, but obviously hasn’t had a lot of chance to put them into practice yet. He’s incredibly respectful, but in ways that would work a bit better for people who are more interested in their own decision making than my brother. I’m charmed.

Another person shows up. She is introduced as the Accessibility Specialist, and we are asked if we’re okay with her support. Oh yes, I am very okay with this. After she gets caught up - and she reiterates that everyone else can suck it, my brother is allowed to inhabit this space how he wishes - we get ready to head for the chapel. But the plane is about to land. There probably isn’t enough time to transition there and then back. So instead, we all wait around and listen to our two heroes conspire.

Accessibility Specialist has had the job for a month. Or, at least, she's been PAID to do this job for a month. She's been doing it unofficially much longer. She has IDEAS. So that’s where all the unpolished We Respect Everyone energy is coming from. Head of Security is one of her co-conspirators!

In-between plotting, Accessibility Specialist asks me questions. She hears about the amount of phonecalls, and the unsatisfactory answers. The complete lack of support. The fact that I had told the airline that this exact situation was likely to happen, and then got security called on us anyways. She tells me that this information is very helpful. Her plans will benefit from specific examples.

She tells me how unsatisfactory it is to have to send people to the chapel. They're pushing for a quiet room. I agree that this would have been helpful. My brother would probably have been calmer in a quiet space, which would have helped us AND reduced the stress for others. (Also, both me and my sister would have benefited from the quiet. But I didn’t say that.)

In all the commotion, I’ve forgotten to talk to the boarding people about priority boarding. But Accessibility Specialist is on the ball! We stand off to the side, behind a rope, while the plane disembarks. (My brother starts off pacing RIGHT in the way of the disembarkment, so sneaking into the roped off area is a good idea.) We’re going to be the very first ones to board, even before the people in wheelchairs. I pray that my brother is willing to walk onto the plane – he hasn’t been willing to follow me since we got out of security.

The boarding people are on their best behaviour. They make a special trip over to us to scan our tickets. They send someone down the ramp to check on the plane’s status. We are now VIPs. And we seem to have made the Accessibility Specialist’s day. She is so SMUG as she whispers with the Head of Security!

They ask if we’re okay with them accompanying us to the plane. Sure! I’m having a great time watching their excitement. It’s changed a very difficult experience into a pleasurable one. (For me. They are thankfully respecting my sister’s desire to be ignored. She is still not having fun. And my brother is pretty done with this experience. He’s found some quotes about ‘going home’ and ‘not doing this’ to share with me.)

Finally, we get the nod. My brother calmly follows us down the ramp. We get to the plane and are asked to pause for a moment while they finish moving some storage carts around. Seems reasonable to me, but Accessibility Specialist darts forward and takes photos, documenting SOMETHING. And then we get on the plane.

-

The plane itself would have been great. My brother happily took a seat. Enjoyed looking out the windows. And was excited to watch Shrek. My sister relaxed. And I LOVE flying. But, sadly, electronics must be stowed during liftoff and landing. My brother did NOT take these unreasonable demands from me well. He eventually forgave me for the take-off misdemeanor, especially after I put on my own headphones and quoted the movie with him. But my sins at landing were too much. For half an hour after he left the airport, he kept repeating, “NO more flying!” and “Not like this!” Any comments about flying for the next day got his hackles up.

So, I won’t do that to him again. But it was a very interesting experience for me! I am glad I got to have it.

And if anyone has flown through Winnipeg’s Richardson International Airport⁴ in the last while, and wants to tell them about any good or bad accessibility experiences, I think there’s someone there that would appreciate it. I want to see what she can accomplish.

-

PS. She’s also started a program where you can practice getting ready to board a plane! You sign up and they take you through the whole experience, from signing in to walking the boarding ramp. (Or, possibily, just whichever portion is concerning you.) I wish I had thought to contact the airport itself, rather than just contacting the airline and looking at the government’s resources. Good things are happening there.

-

¹ neurodivergent – brain works in a non-typical way

² Down’s Syndrome – an intellectual disability

³ echolalia – communication by repeating/echoing things heard, either right after hearing them, or a long time later

⁴ Winnipeg is in Manitoba, Canada

[juiles]

All to well

Plot: idk. have fun!

Type: angst and fluff

Warnings: i am in no way saying that this is how all autistic people are!! This fic is based off my PERSONAL experience with autism and sensory overload. Please remember this as you read!!

Masterlist here!

Request here!

————————————————————————-

Being autistic has drawbacks for a normal person, but for an actress in Marvel movies, it was tough. I’m proud of who I am but I didn’t want the pitying looks, the comments or being stuck as only getting the “autistic” role so for my own sake, I’m not super open about it.

My parents are ashamed of it so they never told anyone and I was forced to mask anytime I was around anyone. Not even Scar knew, and she was my best friend, almost a mother figure to me. I didn’t want her to think any different of me. She’s known me since i was 7 and played her on screen adopted daughter in Iron Man 2.

We’re filming Endgame right now. I’m on my way to set with Scarlett. Today has been a rough day for me so far as my parents woke me up by screaming at me which then caused me to struggle in keeping my mask up. Scar picked me up and I’m already exhausted, I’ve caught myself stimming a few times and quickly stopped it.

When we pulled into the parking lot, i grabbed my bag and walked with her through set to our trailers where we left our stuff and we’re immediately shuffled to makeup and costumes.

“Oh shit…” I mutter staring at the costume in Erica’s hand. “I didn’t realize it was a fight scene today…”

“Babe.” Erica, my assistant and on set guardian says. She’s known about me since the first day which was when i was 7. “You’ve known about this for a week. Are you okay?”

“I’m super over stimulated right now…” I murmur tapping my leg in sets of 7, a common stim for me.

“Let’s do hair and makeup first okay? Keep you out of the costume until the last second okay?” I nod and the two of us move to hair and makeup where Scarlett is getting her hair done.

“Hey, where’s your costume kid?” She asks looking over at me.

“I uh-“ I glance at Erica who steps in for me quickly.

“It had a small tear in it so it’s getting fixed quickly.” Scarlet merely hums in response and I sit. Getting my wig on and makeup done is awful, having everyone touching me and all their voices so close to me ears. I feel a soft hand on my cheek and peek my eyes open to see Scar staring at me in concern.

“Stop grinding your jaw babe…” I release my jaw, not even realizing i had been doing it. “You okay love? You disappeared for a bit there.” I respond with a hum, my voice disappearing from within. “Let’s get your costume on and to set okay?”

I look around quickly and don’t see Erica, Scarlet must see the panic as she quickly says. “She got called away in an emergency. I’m going to be your guardian today.” I nod, feeling the panic bubble up in my chest, but give her a soft smile.

The two of us make our way to my trailer and she helps me quickly slip into the suit. I immediately want to rip it off as it’s skin tight and an uncomfortable material. It feels like it’s digging into my skin and pulling it away as if it’s velcro and my skin is the other side. I take a deep breath and come out to see Scar in costume waiting. “Ready?” I nod and we head to set where I realize it’s a busy day, all original 6 avengers, Lizzie, both Paul’s, Gwen and Cobie are all there. I internally groan as immediately, the girls are coming over to me and Scar talking a mile a minute. I stand next to Scarlett silently until Lizzie turns to me. “Hey kiddo. Ready to fight? We have to fly today.” My eyes widen for a moment before i force a smile and nod at the fake red head in front of me.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” This makes everyone around us laugh but it makes me feel awful. I have no voice, it comes and goes, when it’s gone, my parents ridicule me, I get hit. I look down as i feel my tears well up in my eyes and blink rapidly trying to will them away. I thank god silently when Joe calls us to places which means i get away from the now very suddenly concerned looking Scarlett, Lizzie and Cobie. I’m stuck with Renner as I get rigged up, the feeling of being sick suddenly appearing as more people touch me.

I feel the lump in my throat tighten and the feeling of the harness wrapped around me suddenly makes me feel like it’s constricting my breathing and everyone around me disappeared as my hands flung to the harness, in my panic my hands struggled with the buckle which just made me more infuriated and grunts started coming out as my tears blurred my vision.

I feel a set of hands on mine holding them down, i scream and rip mine away and start scratching at my throat trying to rip it open to get a breath. My eyes started blacking out and the last thing i see is Scarlett’s panicked face as she tries to grab at my hands before it all goes black.

Scarlett’s POV

I know something is off with y/n. Not off but just that she was different. I have had a feeling it was autism for a while now, today proved that to me.

She was silent the whole car ride to set, normally she’d be singing along the radio but she wouldn’t even let me turn it on today. As soon as we got to set she locked herself in her trailer without a word, the next time i saw her, she looked panicked and while she was getting her hair and makeup done she disappeared fully before i brought her back. She has days where she goes mute, she just calls them her bad days, they usually happen on days she has arguments with her parents but normally she can still communicate to me in different ways but today she was completely gone. It got worse as soon as she realized Erica was gone. Walking on to set, she tended up and i saw her tapping her thigh every once in a while. The comment that Lizzie made would normally make her laugh, her reaction today was off.

I watched her from the corner of my eye but had to look away for a second before i heard Renner.

“Y/N!! What are you doing?! You’re going to hurt yourself!” I whip my head around and my heart sinks as i see y/n struggling with her harness, her hands are shaking violently, tears streaming down her face, her eyes are glazed over. I bolt over and grab her hands gently.

“Y/n baby, stop. You’ve got to stop my love.” She rips her hands out of mine and starts clawing at her throat which is when i notice she’s not breathing properly. She’s barely able to get a small breath. Instincts kick in for me and i turn to the cast and crew crowding her. “Give her space. Now. I need someone to set up a dark room with minimal sound and her clothes she was wearing this morning as well as the blanket from my trailer. A cold cloth and her wig taken off.” I turn around as she starts to collapse, i grab her arm and quickly wrap an arm around her waist. “Now!”

It’s a bit of a blur after that honestly, the next thing i know, im alone with her in the green room after everything is unplugged and blankets are draped over the windows. Her wig is already off and someone hands me my blanket and her clothes before silently leaving. I help her unconscious body out of the suit and into her clothes before draping my weighted blanket over her body. I sit back and stare at her, not touching her at all but close enough if she needs me.

It felt like hours but looking at my watch, it shows it’s only been 20 minutes when she finally wakes up.

My heart is beating what feels like a million mile a minute with panic as i watch her blue eyes flutter open before she looks around the room for a moment. Her hand comes out of the blanket and she starts tapping her thigh again, her head nodding along to each tap. She squeezes her eyes shut and i can hear her voice mumbling. “I’m safe. I’m here. I’m y/n.” Over and over again, i quietly cough to get her attention and she quickly sits up and her head whips up to look at me with wide eyes, both hands start scratching at the other wrist. “Oh my god…”

“Baby, you are safe. It’s just me.”

“No… no… no no no no no no no no.” She started tugging her hair and rocking slightly. “They’re going to kill me… you aren’t supposed to know…”

I quickly scoot over and grab her hands before pulling her into my chest, she tenses for a moment before melting into my arms. “I can’t hide it anymore Scar…”

“I know baby… I know.” I mutter into her hair swaying us back and forth slightly.

“I’m autistic…”

“Oh baby i know…” She freezes and looks at me with wide eyes. I can ready the fear in her blue eyes. “You hide it really really well but I’m basically your mom my love. I had suspicions but didn’t want to push you into telling me. Today was too much.” She nods burying herself back into me. “I need you to know that I will always listen to you. That if you ever feel like that again, you can tell me and i’ll get you out of it. Baby seeing you pass out was terrifying. I need you to know that if you’re that overwhelmed, that you do not have to do all that.”

“But… my parents don’t want everyone knowing… they’re all gonna know now…” She mumbles into me, my heart cracks.

“Baby being autistic is not a bad thing. It makes you even more amazing. It’s not something to be ashamed of at all. You are allowed to be who you are. To stim when your emotions are too high. To have bad days. I am here to show you that.” I say looking her directly into her eyes. “I’m here to support you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded quickly. She sat up and started tapping her thigh as she stared at me. “This is my favourite stim, it’s really subtle but it calms me down… i count the most important people in my life.” She then looks down at her hand as she taps each finger. “Scarlett.” Tap. “Lizzie.” Tap. “Renner.” Tap. “Gwen.” Tap. “Cobie.” Tap. “Rob.” Tap. “Rosie.” Tap. “It reminds me that you guys would love me, no matter how broken or weird i am because i know how much you care.” She looked up at me through her eyelashes. “Another one is tapping here.” She taps her chest right above her heart twice. “Right here.” She does the tap to each word. “This is where you sit in my body. I usually only do this one when I’m not wearing my necklace. Playing with that is the stim i can do out in public.” I pulled her into my arms again as I cried.

“Oh baby…”

“You’ve always been my safe space Scar…”

“And i will be your safe space for the rest of eternity.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes before she pulls away with a smile. “Thank you. For learning how to help me.”

“You are more than welcome my love. Let’s go home and have a calm day okay?” She nods before standing up, pulling my weighted blanket over herself. I stand and wrapping my arms around her waist, the two of us make our way out of the room to find Lizzie standing not too far away, crying into Gwyneths arms. Y/n instantly runs over to her and wraps her arms around the crying woman. Lizzie jumps before she turns and sees who it is and wraps the girl into her arms.

“I’m so sorry bug. I shouldn’t have made that comment. I know how bad your parents are.” Y/n shakes her head pulling back and squeezes Lizzie’s hands. “Liz that wasn’t what caused that.” She takes a glance back at me before taking a deep breath and looks back at Lizzie. “I’m autistic and I was overstimulated and everything was just too much. I won’t lie, the comment did hurt a little but i know you didn’t say it in a mean way. You didn’t hurt me, memories of my parents saying stuff hurt me. But not you.” Lizzie’s eyes widen and she glances at me before she nods breathing to calm herself down. “If you ever need to talk or are struggling you can talk to me bug.”

Y/n nods with a small smile. “I know Liz.”

“Hey. Me too.” We all turn our head to see Gwyneth with a pout on her face. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo. Never do that again. Understand?” She pulls y/n’s laughing form into her arms.

“I understand mother Paltrow.” She says making us all chuckle.

Y/n pulls away and biting her cheek looks at me. “I- i uh- I’m not ready to face everyone else yet…”

“They already left bug. It’s just us four left.” Lizzie said smoothing the crazy hair down on y/n’s head. “I couldn’t leave worried i hurt you and Gwyn couldn’t leave me alone but everyone else left to give you privacy. Scarlett went full mama bear mode and screamed at some people for trying to push her into anything. It was great.” Y/n chuckled, which brings a grin to my face.

“Of course you did. But i wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“I love you too baby.” I say kissing her head softly.

[makotoismyson]

Thoughts on Dragons Rising Season 3 (episodes 1-5)

I put a read more underneath because some of the notes are long and I don’t want to spoil anyone who hasn’t watched it yet.

-We’re still getting new lore even to this day, huh? Remember when the show was just “long before time had a name”

-Frak is so adorable and I love how he’s a bit of a know it all but at the same time it’s probably a result of his previous conditioning by Ras which is kind of sad honestly. Also I joked to myself about Sora x Frak being a thing but I didn’t THINK THE SHOW WOULD ACTUALLY HINT AT IT WHAT. Guys Sora and Frak are both T4T and autistic trust me bro

-Kai doing that lip smacking thing in the first episode totally proves he’s canonically ADHD for real

-Speaking of the first episode and Kai why did they MAKE FUN OF HIS VOICE LIKE THAT like bro what did Vincent even do to deserve that kind of shade.

-also I was kind of expecting Kai to be an overprotective dad towards Wyldfyre and her new relationship but I love how (so far) he’s been supportive of not teasing about it, it’s so cute.

-speaking of which I don’t really know how people feel about Roby but I think he’s…fine. Like yes, his gen-z slang is annoying, and “influencer” characters are annoying, but with Roby he at least genuinely CARES about Wyldfyre and the rest of the ninja team. Like, last season he seemed like he genuinely just wanted a good, fair tournament while making it as entertaining as possible in order to pull in new audiences, but not at the risk of anyone getting injured. He was genuinely concerned when he noticed the challenges were rigged and when Lloyd was put into a coma.

-Also Roby actually LIKES Wyldfyre back so like??? Guys this could’ve been so much worse they could’ve played it as Wyldfyre constantly making moves on Roby and Roby being disgusted by her affections because she isn’t “feminine” or “attractive” or whatever but they didn’t do that HE LIKES HER FOR HER AND I LOVE THAT!!!

-Arin sweetie I know you’re upset but PLEASE go back to the ninja you are not good at being a bad guy.

-Rogue (Jay) is finally here and omg I love how the mechanical wings he has is a callback to the invention he was working on in the pilot that’s such a great detail! Honestly I’m not super invested in the plot about Jaya reuniting but I am interested to see more of Rogue. Also it’s really funny how they’re disguising Rogue’s voice even though we ALL know it’s Jay lol.

-I cannot believe this show used the word “serpent-splain” like seriously what timeline are we living in.

-And for the most hyped part of this season, Morro’s return! It’s good to see him again, I really like how his character is being handled so far and the realm he resides in is pretty cool too. I hope we see more of him in the latter five episodes. I’m SO curious how he’ll react when he finds out that Arin’s former mentor was Lloyd.

-I really hope Zane gets some better character development this season because he’s kind of done nothing so far…

-also Pixal is back! I love Pixane so much and I’ve missed them it’s so refreshing to see them back together again. Also Zane calling Pixal the “smartest and most attractive member of the team” in the first episode was WILD like why is Zane so weirdly smooth sometimes?

-Good to see the superior couple (sorry Jaya stans) fighting side by side again, also I literally started cackling like a mad man when Zane sacrificed himself and they played his death music AGAIN like it’s a running gag at this point.

-I REALLY hope Zane’s mech form isn’t a permanent thing because it’s…not great.

-The reveal that Arin’s parents are (presumably) dead is SUCH a dark note to leave on like wow I wasn’t expecting that.

-I don’t really care that much about the Forbidden Five or the Thunderfang stuff going on but maybe it’ll be more interesting as time goes along but right now it just isn’t very compelling to me despite it being the main conflict of this season.

stay tuned for my thoughts on the latter episodes…whenever that’ll be. Idk I’m really busy this month and I barely want to post here anymore anyways so…

[lulumangione]

as someone who’s autistic i also really get the feeling that luigi is on the spectrum and i have nobody to talk about it with because i feel weird like armchair diagnosing him😭

his mannerisms really give it away for me. he’s overly expressive and literally cannot talk without using his hands—and also he comes off to other people as maybe “suspicious” which i really relate to and honestly makes me sad because he’s just chilling!! he might seem like he’s up to something to some but he just seems to me like he’s naturally very antsy and maybe uncomfortable in his own body so he fidgets a lot. i’ve done that little half stretch with the arms raised too many times to count. that’s not even mentioning his little default stance with the hands clasped in front of him or that stupid face he does in pictures sometimes where he scrunches up and looks like he’s gonna bite a bitch

and before he went missing he mentioned to some people feeling “different” from everybody else, like he was on a different wavelength, and that SCREAMS undiagnosed autistic to me. the “npc behavior” he described being so concerned with feels like an extension of this—i think maybe he felt like someone whose feelings are so so big in a world that seems to not feel much at all anymore. that feeling of not belonging and being out of place is the most autistic thing anyone can experience and i feel for him so much. if he does happen to be on the spectrum i wish he could’ve found some kind of community of other neurodivergent people that get him and share similar struggles because maybe then he wouldn’t have felt so alone. idk this turned into a RANT sorry i’m very passionate about autism can you tell

NONNIE YOU'RE SO FUCKING REAL OMG Thank you so much for this ask, you expressed so clearly how I feel about it too!!

As a fellow autistic, at least in my personal experience, I can easily tell when someone clocks that I'm autistic, despite the fact I'm extroverted and a pretty confident person. I think Luigi falls under that too.

No matter how hard you can try to not seem that way, there will be neurotypicals that see it. They'll usually play it up as "weird" or "suspicious" like you said, I've had it a handful of times. It's just how we are, lol.

I think it's unfortunate that he found community in a bunch of incels online, but I can understand why he would be drawn to that despite how smart he is and how his brain ticks. We don't know him personally so there's no telling what his political thoughts are entirely. Man is an enigma in that sense – which also makes sense for being neurodivergent.

With such wealth and an overbearing family, it's easy to understand why he would just want to get away. Find peace outside of everything he'd ever known. I feel the same sometimes.

It also makes sense for his distaste for technology, or at least somewhat of it. We get overstimulated easily and the world was already going haywire and towards something unhopeful, flooding socials and the media in general, before all of this, so I can at least comprehend why he would want to disappear.

Luigi's Reddit posts I feel go more into him as a person outside of silly twitter posts, the way he would randomly info dump about things is a big tism flag for me.

(example, the sunglasses post, lmao. "Fun fact" babes, no one asked x)

I mentioned before how it can feel weird to talk about, but I genuinely do think it's okay to feel that connection, regardless of who it is.

(Btw pls feel free to DM me whenever!! I'd love to hear more on everyone's thoughts on this.)

[sweetpayaso]

🤡 PSA: PLEASE READ 🤡

Before I go do some cleaning, I wanted to get this off my chest. No, this isn’t another impulsive vent post, in fact, it will be my last post regarding last night’s events.

I have felt incredibly guilty ever since I vented about a particular ship. It was never my intent, as I’ve said before, to shut down others’ work simply because I don’t like it. Yes, I do not like Jack x Jeff, but I don’t hate or have anything against people who do, and I feel some may have taken my feelings on the subject a bit personal. People here are just trying to have fun, right?

My relationship with Laughing Jack, who yes, I am aware is a fictional character, is complicated. I don’t necessarily view myself as a casual Jack selfshipper, but the ones who are casual shippers are some of the coolest people I have ever met, and I have never once thought of my love for Jack as superior to theirs.

I responded by trauma dumping to a user I have never talked with before who questioned the state of my health when it came to Jack, which after a moot pointed out, realized that wasn’t the appropriate response to someone who might have just been showing genuine concern, even if it came off a bit rude initially. I don’t do well without tone indicators sometimes, so please forgive me. My hostility comes from a near decade of unhealthily bottling my mental health issues, because my mom never got me the care I needed, only threats to a psych ward.

I want to change; I realize my trauma dumping isn’t doing me or anyone else any favors, but when you have no money, no ability to drive, no other outlets, in a world that often shuns people like you, my options are very limited. I’ve had no luck finding a therapist for every issue I may have; this has been my coping mechanism since I was 15. I’m autistic, and still don’t feel like I ever aged mentally past 15 because of it. I was never given the tools I needed to be an adult, so I regress often. It’s the only thing I can think to do when shit goes south.

But enough with the pity story, I really just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Yeah, may not mean much, but, I really am sorry for everything, whether it’s being jealous over something I can’t control, or just being an awful friend.

I really am trying to get better, it’s just taking longer than I’ve planned for it to, because of things constantly getting pushed back.

[scoobysnakz]

Hard Luck

Chap iv

It’s hard finding love when your sole reason to live is your daughter, but when her best friends dad is annoyingly attractive and might have something to do with your rent randomly getting paid, who can blame you for being a little curious?

||* mostly fluff, Raya being an undiagnosed autistic child bc I'm plotting something evil, domestic Miguel if you squint, slightly pervy reader, mentions of oral reader receiving, reader being a silly fan-girl, cliff hanger bc why not.

Guilt. It's an overwhelming feeling that sits in the pit of his stomach in a way he's far too familiar with.

Miguel can name all the good and bad things about guilt. The way it allows you to be held accountable for your actions makes, your mind fray with culpability. How it can prevent someone- him- from doing something that will drive them- him- insane and remind them- him- that they have to have morals that keep them- him- grounded. Or else… or else.

There have been plenty of times Miguel has felt culpability and they have all been about something much more drastic than this. He's lost people, a family, so, so many versions of his family.

He needs to get this universe right. The thought of losing Gabi again makes his gut clench and that ticking in his jaw form again.

The first time it had happened, people had been upset for him, Peter had left him alone without being asked more than once and Jess was just the right amount of critical and loving. They were his guilt.

Then it happened again. And again. And again. And then people were becoming concerned for him, but the kind where they scolded and questioned him so he stopped telling people each time he found a universe he could live in. That first universe was the only one he destroyed he's made sure of that.

And yet he's feeling so intensely guilty for his stalker-like tendencies when he's done much worse.

He knows he shouldn't have followed you, waited for you to enter the shop and prayed to anyone above that your card would cancel. But he needed to get your number- for parental reasons of course. And now he has it.

“I can't do that again,” Miguel groans, hand sliding down his face as he slumps into his chair.

Lyla snickers at him, hands covering her face while her legs kick in the air. Miguel looks over at her, expression unamused.

“It was a complete betrayal of her trust,” his fingers drum on the smooth wood of his desk.

“Don’t think the two of you had a trusting relationship, considering you only just got her number.” her teasing earns her a wave of dismissal.

“I’m this close,” he holds his hand in the air, thumb and index finger millimetres away, “from replacing you.” His leg bounces up and down, jaw tightened and lips pursed.

She scoffs at him and waves a blurred-out finger at him before slumping down on his desk. “But if you replace me how will you watch your girlfriend?”

“You aren't funny. I was watching her because I needed… her daughter is Gabi’s friend I can't have her being some scumbag.” his tone is harsh, fed up, and irritated, but he can't bite back the grin that forms at her teasing.

“She isn't a scumbag…”

Lyla hums in feigned disagreement, her minute pixelated frame now perched on his shoulder as she smirks up at him.

“She’s nice… to me, and old people.”

He glances out the window, dark clouds threatening rain as they swarm the grey sky. He sighs and looks back over at Lyla. He came to this universe for Gabi.

But he can't stop himself from thinking back to the way you smelt. The faint coconut and the mellowness of your washing powder settled gently against his skin like a thin, taunting mist, teasing his stiffening cock.

He relishes the way you let him pull you near. How easily you submitted to the man who hasn't even had a proper conversation with you and pretended to be his partner- his wife. How you put up such a lazy fight against it that it felt almost playful. How your eyes softened the moment you saw him. How you allowed him to help you despite the embarrassment that followed it.

“When you’ve finished being hopeless lover boy,” Lyla chirps, “you might want to y’know be Spiderman.”

***

Miguel didn't expect his offer to go so well. He just assumed that being stuck with two nine-year-old girls for a few hours would be hell but it's surprisingly entertaining.

He knows Gabi inside and out, yet when she's with Raya she's different. And it doesn't feel forced.

The two of them spent ages trying to figure out a flavour because they obviously had to have the same one. They both ended up choosing chocolate, much to Miguel’s distaste. And then when Gabi wanted a sprinkle cone but Raya wanted a plain one they ended up getting tubs.

“It's because she's my best friend, papá,” Gabi had stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which had made him chuckle.

“How was school?” he asks, feeling a little left out of the conversation.

Raya’d attention is immediately diverted towards him, wide eyes following each movement of his face. “It was fun,” she says quietly- shyly, making sure to swallow before speaking. It’s good table manners

“Papá, we’re talking!” Gabi whines with a pout, “Raya doesn't want to tell you about her day because you're boring.”

So he sits there, practically spilling out of the tiny metal chair, watching them laugh at him and whatever else makes girls their age giggle the way they are. He keeps a smile on his face and his phone on vibrate, waiting for you to reply to his text, or read it at least.

***

Your back arches with ecstasy, hips jolting upwards towards the source of your pleasure. You can feel your gummy walls clenching and when you look down to see what it is that's sliding inside your cunt, you’re met with the sight of the top of someone's head.

Thick, brown curls, all unfurled as you slide your fingers away. They look familiar in a way that makes you feel giddy.

Desperate to see who’s providing this bliss, you push their head away. You’re left with an achy, empty feeling as they pull their fingers out of you and drag their tongue off your puffy folds but you'll have to push past it. Maybe whine a little, but you'll manage.

You look down, brain too fuzzy with arousal to even process Miguel’s deep, chocolatey eyes gazing up at you. He's smiling boyishly, fangs poking over the tops of his perfectly formed, lips that are coated in a deliciously thick layer of your arousal.

“Can I keep going, Hermosa?” his velvety voice rumbles, sending chills down your spine.

Before you get a chance to beg for more than his skilled fingers and soft tongue, the sound of a traumatic radar sound blares and you’re forced awake.

You lie there for a moment, one hand lazily slung across your forehead while the other grips your mouth.

You can't tell if it's guilt or arousal but you can't think straight. All you know is that you just had a painfully realistic dream of a man you barely know eating you out. Part of you wishes it lasted longer but that's beside the point.

There's an uncomfortable slickness between your thighs and you're slightly tempted to do something about it but the constant ringing of your alarm reminds you that you do, in fact, have some form of common sense.

Ignoring the guilt that's swimming in your gut, you sit upright, legs dangling over the edge of the sofa. You sit there for a moment, trying to figure out if you should be feeling that guilt or if it's your brain’s fault. You settle for the latter.

Yawning, you pick up your phone, scanning for notifications you know aren't there. A few from the weather app, another from a period tracking app that says your ovulating (that explains the dream- hopefully) and then… a text from Miguel.

It's one of those texts that you don't know how to reply to, it's got a simple answer but that's rude and all of the emojis are far too informal for someone you have saved as ‘Gabi’s dad’

You stare at Miguel’s text. Let the letter jumble up and scramble into unintelligible blobs as your eyes start to sting with tears before you allow yourself to blink.

I’ve got the girls. Could you text me your address so I can drop Raya off later?

He’s got the girls and now he wants your address. That's the part that makes it so hard to reply.

You don't live in the nicest of areas, graffiti in the stairwell that you have to use because the lift stinks of piss, loud neighbours and a possibly dead cat stuffed into one of the bins at the entrance.

It's embarrassing.

Miguel’s a tailored man, with slicked-back hair and freshly ironed clothes. You contemplated lying about your address, tell him it's some random house, meet him outside before quickly running off with Raya to get the bus.

But you don't want her growing up ashamed of not having money. You can't have her becoming a pompous brat who whines about not getting things. Because that's not who is she now, nor will she ever be.

You tap the smooth glass of your phone screen over and over again with your thumb before forcing yourself to reply. And almost immediately you get a reply

‘👍’

You can't stop the smile that forms on your lips at how fast his response is, he was probably on his phone or coincidentally looking checking his notifications when you sent the text.

But now you have nothing to do. You couldn't pick up an extra shift because- thanks to your stupidity- you somehow forgot that you can't randomly change your hours as a carer. And apparently, you can't even sleep without being a pervert.

Sleep sounds nice though. Your eyes are heavy with countless nights of single-digited hours of sleep. It's pulling at your brain in a way that makes your thoughts fuzzy and your body slowly sinks back into the sofa again.

A loud thudding noise startles you from your sleep. It's repetitive and loud so your first instinct is to slam off your alarm but when you see a blank screen you divert your fatigued brain to the front door.

Completely forgetting about Raya being out with Miguel and Gabi, you pull the door open. You look a mess, mascara smudged and eyes heavier than the weights he probably lifts with those delicious arms…

“Mum,” Raya mumbles, her face buried in her chest as pulls you close.

You stumble back, fighting back a yawn, and nearly fall onto the sofa but Raya pulls you forward. “Hey, baby,” you smile down at her, laughing awkwardly at nearly making a complete fool of yourself.

You drag your gaze up to Miguel, his board shoulders filling out the doorway while his hand clutches onto Gabi’s.

“Miguel,” your voice is groggy but cute and it makes him feel safe on the inside, “Thank you for having her.” You go to playfully nudge Raya but she's no longer next to you, now shyly hidden behind you, clutching into your shirt.

“She has beautiful manners,” his voice is like velvet that's been melted by a log fire and poured on top of Valentine's chocolates.

He looks down at you, eyes briefly tearing away from you to discreetly inspect your apartment. It's cute, homely, you. Lots of blankets and cushions, picture frames dotted around, and a random coat stand that stands bare.

“Would you like to come in?” you offer, attempting to stifle another yawn, failing to succeed as pleasantly the last time.

Miguel opens his mouth, pretty lips parted so perfectly that your half-awake brain might just fall for him on the spot.

“Please, papá! Raya said she has a bunch of teddies!” Gabi pleads, her accent bearing a striking resemblance to Miguel’s.

Before he gets a chance to decline, she pushes past him and skips over to Raya. She grabs her hand and almost immediately her awkwardness melts away as they run into her room.

“Sorry, she's really-”

“Bold?” you offer, head cocked to the side.

“Yeah... Let's go with that version.”

The two of you share an awkwardly dry chuckle before you both look away.

“Coffee?” you break the silence.

“Would be nice,” he finishes for you.

Nervously, you lead him to your minute kitchen island, kicking random toys out of the way before he gets a chance to see them.

As he walks through your apartment, your home, Miguel can't help but feel at ease. It's messy but not in an unhygienic way, you can just tell it's lived in happily.

The waterrings on the countertops, a random bag of bouncy balls left on the floor for someone to trip on. Miguel can imagine himself here, not living, but staying.

Maybe his shoes lazily kicked off in a slobbish pile on the sofa, Gabi’s coat slung on the unused coat rack next to Raya’s and yours.

“Sorry it's a mess, I was going to tidy up but I got… sidetracked. But I promise it's not normally this messy, just today. Which is strangely coincidental but it really isn't. And-”

“It's nice in here,” he cuts you off as if he couldn't hear what you'd just said.

His small slither of praise makes you smile. That toothrottingly sweet smile that makes every fibre of his being burn with arousal.

“Thanks.”

You turn your back to him, searching for your coffee before you grab a small glass jar that has instant coffee in it.

“Fuck,” you grumble, “its empty. So… no coffee for us,” you laugh.

He shrugs his shoulders and takes the jar from you.

“Bin?” he asks.

“There,” you point, “left side is recyclable and right is the other stuff.”

He opens the bin and drops the jar, smiling in satisfaction as it lands with a soft third. He lifts his foot from the pedal before catching a glimpse of red. Curious, he presses down on the pedal again and reads the block writing.

EVICTION NOTICE

[possiblyunhinged]

I’ll level with you—my brain feels like a flaming wheelie bin, and people keep taking turns chucking Glenn’s Vodka on top. I’m an autistic woman who grew up in poverty, developed agoraphobia at six, and spends most of my life inside. I only leave the house for dog walks. And lately, it feels like everywhere I turn, the world is screaming at me that my life is worth nothing.

It’s not subtle. It’s in Labour’s war on welfare, in the normalisation of assisted dying without a safety net for those of us already suicidal, and in RFK Jr’s speech about how autism ‘destroys our greatest resource—our children.’ That’s not policy—it’s a death sentence dressed up as concern.

And no, it’s not just about me. It’s immigrants, it’s trans people, it’s poor people, disabled people, anyone who’s ever needed help and been met with disgust. Cruelty has become casual. Efficient, even. A whole generation of ‘leaders’ seem to thrive on punishing those already on the floor. And the worst part? It’s working. People are so burnt out, so numb, that they’re starting to accept it.

What I won’t accept is the idea that this is some kind of debate. That our right to exist, to live without shame or fear, is up for discussion. I think those who stare at reality and still choose hatred are beneath contempt. I think RFK Jr and the rest of them are what happens when a person has nothing inside except the desire to control others. A toilet bowl has more dignity.

Being autistic in this world isn’t just hard. It’s scary. It’s humiliating. You get passed over for jobs, for friendships, for empathy. You get told you’re too much and not enough in the same breath. You learn to mask so well that you forget who you even were before. You dissociate through conversations, panic in supermarkets, get treated like a burden by the very people meant to support you.

You hear words like “independence” and “resilience” tossed around like buzzwords on a CV, while you’re stood there gripping the doorframe, trying not to pass out because someone rang the bell. When I finally got my diagnosis—after years of confusion, shame, and feeling like some broken version of a person—it didn’t feel like clarity. It felt like mourning. Like suddenly seeing the whole map of where things went wrong and realising how long I’d been underwater.

The only thing that’s ever given me any peace is this: I can’t pretend. I don’t have the wiring for it. And weirdly, that honesty draws people in. They open up. They tell me things they’ve never told anyone else. And I used to wonder why—why they’d spill their guts to someone they barely knew. But now I think it’s because no one else has asked. No one else has made it safe to just… exist.

I'm not trying to romanticise neurodivergence or paint over the cracks—it’s hard. Brutally hard. But 99.9% of that pain comes from how deeply ableism is embedded in everything, and how little real support exists for people like us. I haven’t ‘overcome’ anything. I’m still fighting every day just to exist. But I’d still rather be someone who feels too much and says the wrong thing than some hollow coward clinging to hate because they’ve got nothing else going on inside.

And if people like RFK Jr never feel real love or acceptance because they never dared to know themselves? Then maybe that’s the only justice we’ll ever get.

[nurse-floyd]

Grounded

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Anon Request: “hey there, i felt rly represented by your autistic!reader x daniel and was wondering if i’d be able to request something myself, if you’d be up for it? i get really overwhelmed easily, i get upset super easily too, it’s honestly embarrassing. i feel like daniel would be good at reassurance, and would cuddle to help out and keep me calm. do you think you’d be able to write anything like that?”

Warnings: mentions of autism/ panic attacks/ anxiety. This is my own interpretation and experience with autism/ being ND so it may vary from others. This story is fiction and meant to be enjoyed xoxo

You walked hand in hand through the paddock entrance with Daniel by your side. Media day was always hectic and overwhelming; the noise, the flashing lights, and the sheer volume of media and fans were overwhelming. You knew it would be busy, but the reality of it was just too much for you that day, your senses already wrecked from the lack of sleep due to all the traveling. The chaos sent anyone’s senses into overdrive. You tried to focus on Daniel’s presence, his hand gripping yours tightly, but with the sheer amount of noise and activity around you, it was difficult to concentrate.

You tried to stay calm, reminding yourself that you were there for Daniel, hoping that would be enough for you to push through the discomfort. But as the noise built and the crowd closed in, it became harder to focus. The world felt smaller, your heart rate quickened, and your breathing became shallow as the anxiety threatened to overwhelm you completely. You hated feeling like this, hated not feeling normal, and hated feeling like you were drawing attention to yourself.

Daniel had always been understanding; he was patient and kind and always knew when things were becoming too much for you, sometimes even before you did. As the media frenzy closed in, you felt the familiar signs of overload creeping in.

Daniel noticed immediately. His grip tightened around your hand as he gave it a reassuring squeeze. He leaned in closer to your body, his voice low in your ear. “You doing okay?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.

You shook your head, unable to voice your needs with the world feeling like it was closing in around you. The flashes from the cameras felt like they were burning your eyes, and you instinctively pulled your jacket over your eyes to block out some of the world. The anxiety was too strong, and the words got caught in your throat. But Daniel understood without you having to say anything. His arms moved around your shoulders as he guided you quickly towards a quieter corner of the paddock, waving and thanking the media as he led you away.

He found a relatively calm area near the team’s garage, away from the worst of the noise and chaos. He sat you down and knelt at your level, his expression full of nothing but concern. “Can I touch you?” he asked. You nodded, and you felt his hand gently cup your face. "Just breathe," he said gently, his hands resting on your shoulders, grounding you. "In and out, nice and slow. Just focus on me.”

You met his soft brown eyes, focusing on his voice as you followed his instructions and took in a deep, shaky breath, mirroring his. The world started to blur into the background as you concentrated on your breathing and the reassuring weight of his hands.

"It's alright, take your time," he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no judgment in his gaze, only understanding and patience. "I'm here with you. Just focus on me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he said, his voice full of warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you.”

His words of comfort brought a lump to your throat, a tear threatening to spill over. You hated feeling like this, hated the overwhelm and embarrassment that came after, but Daniel’s support and understanding helped you feel less alone. He didn’t see you as a burden or annoying; he accepted you for you.

Gradually, the tightness in your chest started to ease, and the sensory overload subsided a little. Daniel had always been so good at knowing exactly what you needed in those moments, never making you feel embarrassed or ashamed for being overwhelmed. He pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. You relaxed into the embrace, feeling the anxiety melt away.

"Thank you," you whispered into his chest, your voice barely audible. It was hard to express just how much his support meant to you, but you hoped he could feel it in the way you held onto him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his own filled with warmth. "You don't have to thank me," he replied with a gentle smile. "I'm always here for you, no matter what."

You stayed in his arms for a few moments longer, the feeling helping to ground and regulate you a little more.

"Ready to give this another go?" he asked.

You were unsure but nodded. With his support, you knew you were safe no matter what happened, and he would always be there to help you navigate it all.

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hi! Could I maybe request a one-shot about about an autistic reader who’s been asked out as a joke a lot, so when Terzo genuinely asks they assume he’s doing it to be a jerk?

Hopefully you enjoy this one…apologies if anything isn’t exactly correct! -Death

Terzo Asking Out Autistic GN!Reader

You had heard quite a lot about the infamous third Emeritus son. He was charming, kind, flirtatious…some less kind words as well.

Though you weren’t bothered much by the rumours about people the other siblings wanted to date. At this point you pretty much decided you didn’t need romance due to how that often panned out in the past.

People thought it was funny to bet their friends to ask out the “weird kid”. Standing you up on dates all because it was a cruel joke to them. To them you couldn’t possibly feel anything.

Not since an asshole of a teacher outed you as being autistic. Stereotypes defining you to your peers despite it being a spectrum. The higher functioning end of the spectrum was where you were classified, though you did have some sensory issues surrounding the fluorescent lights in the classrooms and certain textures.

A substitute had outed your condition, asking in a very fake whisper about it. Which started the mockery and years of teasing. Years of your emotions being played with until you just gave up on the idea of anyone seriously asking you out.

Even after joining the ministry, romance wasn’t something you actively sought out. Fearing the same fate as in your younger years.

Though your eye was drawn to Terzo Emeritus.

The anti pope was flamboyant, charming, charismatic and…very attractive. Half the congregation was attracted to them. Wanting nothing more than to win his eye. To be his.

You kept to the background. There was always a chance you would simply get hurt again by an uncaring soul. Working quietly in the library among the shelves.

Not noticing the curious eyes following you in the hallways, the longing glances after you as you exited black mass. One green, one white eye filled with the desire to find you and talk to you. Terzo determined to get to know the stunning sibling which he never saw much of.

Which lead to them appearing in the library one day, paintless. Wearing nothing but a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a tight tank top carrying a stack of books. Placing them on your desk carefully and offering a gentle smile.

“Excuse me, sibling. Would you mind helping me put these away?”

You blinked a few times at the request but nodded, grabbing an empty cart. Not recognizing the man before you right away.

“Sure, split the pile in half so we don’t lose any.”

You instructed calmly, watching him move the books carefully. Grabbing a few cards you had made to help you find certain sections that were harder to distinguish. The man getting behind the cart to push it as you began walking.

The conversation between you both was mostly about the choices of books the man brought you. Though when you finally looked at his face you took note of the mismatched eyes.

Mid-rant about one of your special interests no less.

“O-Oh my Satan, I am so sorry Papa-!”

Terzo just smiled warmly at you as they shook their head to stop the apologies. Continuing to walk to the nest section.

“No need for apologies…I quite enjoy how much knowledge you have on the subject. I would love to hear more over dinner sometime soon.”

That particular phrase made you freeze in place, heart racing as you processed the request. The library suddenly felt far too small as you backed away. Terzo taking notice of your reaction and growing concerned.

“Sib-“

“I-I’m sorry Papa…but I just can’t do this again.”

You explained shakily before running from him. The satanic anti pope calling after you with wide eyes. Not that you bothered responding as you rushed away in tears of frustrated disbelief.

He would never seriously ask you out. No one would. No matter how kind or attentive he seemed listening to you before…

No one seriously asked you out.

After a few hours of hiding alone in your room, getting your emotions back under control, and wallowing in self pity you finally decided to walk through the gardens to clear your head. Going to a spot Primo showed you for when the world seemed like far too much.

An isolated fountain in a lonely corner. The sound of the water trickling down the intricate artwork calming your mind during smaller moments of overwhelming circumstances.

Though you froze seeing Terzo sitting there; painted up and staring into the water. Perking up once he saw you.

“There you are…I’ve been looking for you.”

They frowned as they noticed your red eyes, reaching out to offer a hug.

“Sit, tell me what or who has made you cry…”

You sniffled softly, debating taking the offer.

“Would you even care…? Is this all some trick just so you can hurt me too?”

His face softened as he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you to his chest. Their hand softly rubbing up and down your back with a tender whisper.

“I don’t care if you are different than other people…I know the pain of being mocked and ridiculed for something you cannot help. I would never toy with your heart like that…”

The sincere words made quiet sobs escape you as you hid in his chest. Their arms wrapped tightly around you as he offered the comfort you never thought you’d get.

It was no shock that you decided to go out with him after all.

~

Written by Death.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @thatoddboy @lightbluuestars @strawberriiblossoms @dark-angel-is-back

[deathtothesoul]

Death to the Soul Chapter 9

TW: Rape

The next day when Ryane woke, she lay in the bed and slowly went through the events of the night before. She stared at the colorful window as she let her thoughts wander. It all felt like a dream. She decided to see what happened if she asked to go to work. She did her normal morning routine and put her work clothes on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Quinn demanded, glaring at Ryane as she came downstairs and headed for the coat rack. “I told you, you’re not leaving,” he said evenly. 

“I need to go to work,” she said. “I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired.”

        “I can support you. You’ll live here with me,” he said, advancing on her.

“You’re serious?” she asked, stepping back.

He backed her against the wall. “I told you, you belong to me now. End of story,” he said in a low voice. He drew her close and kissed her. “I need to make sure you’re safe. Jacob is not safe, and neither is your family. No one can hurt you anymore.”

“Except you,” she replied flatly.

He returned his gaze to her. “We’re going to need to trust each other,” he said.

She glared at him definitely but slowly relaxed. “Okay,” she said, nodding.

He effortlessly slid her phone from her pocket and handed it to her. “You’re going to quit your job today.”

She was probably going to be fired anyway. She typed out the message.

I quit.

Quinn pulled her close and stroked her hair. “Good,” he said, kissing her on the head. He took off her coat, and they went into the living room.

Quinn could see the tension in her rigid posture. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want you leaving until we find a better situation. You deserve to be with people who love you.”

She let out a long breath and leaned against him. “Thank you,” she uttered.

 “You look tired,” he commented.

“I didn’t sleep well. Nightmares.”

“Of your mother... or me? You can tell me whatever is bothering you.”

She studied his concerned expression. “Do you remember Mr. Anderson from the funeral?”

Quinn nodded. “Yes.”

“My nightmares were about him. He raped me repeatedly for five years,” she said numbly.

        Quinn fell silent. He will have to pay for this. The thought allowed him to relax. He hadn’t tortured anyone in a long time. It would be good to get back to it.

“The school was tiny. It almost looked like a house,” she continued. “There were 50 kids there ranging from age 2 to 18.”

“Two?” Quinn asked, raising his brows.

“Yes. Two as in still crapping their pants... which they did on occasion.”

He chuckled. “Sounds weird.”

“You have no idea. Mr. Anderson met my parents at this party. He would come over from time to time. I tried to stay out of his way but him and my parents became very close. Mom would complain about me to him. She told him everything I did wrong and how awful I was to her. He suggested they send me to his school. He promised them he would teach me how to be a good person and help me get good grades. Because he was such good friends with them, they didn’t believe me when I tried to tell them what he was doing.” She paused. “I think one of the worst things that happened there besides the rape was the abuse of two autistic kids. Every afternoon before lunch we had to go into the preschool area, and we sat on a peace rug and sang songs and read poetry. We would sing little kids’ songs like Old McDonald’s.”

“What? Even the older kids?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “And kids don’t know how to sing. They screech. And people with autism are extremely sensitive to sounds and stimuli. I remember how these two kids tried to cover their ears, but the teachers came and pried their hands off their ears, and they had to sit there and force the words out. They were clearly in pain with tears streaming down their face.”

“Where were the parents?” Quinn sputtered.

“The only kids who he let into the school had parents who never questioned him. There were a few parents that started to catch on to his bullshit, but he always kicked their kids out before anything came to light.  My parents always defended him and never questioned him.” She paused. “I cannot tell you how much I wish that my parents were right.  I wish I was just an overdramatic teenager and Mr. Anderson really was an upstanding and caring person. I hate that I was right.”

He sat next to her and pulled her close. “Where was this school?”

“Off Route 95 in Wayville. It’s a little brown schoolhouse.”

“I see…”

 “Ryane got up and walked into the kitchen. “Breakfast time!” she chirped. Quinn sat on a barstool and watched her pour some cereal. They went back to the couch and She sat next to him with her bowl. She started munching on her cereal, totally lost in thought.

“You know, I lost my little brother to a monster like him,” Quinn said, breaking the silence.

“You mean Anderson?” She said, setting the bowl down and looking at him.

He nodded silently.

“Oh god! I’m so, so sorry. What happened?”

“Our family was good friends with a clergyman named Father Marcus. My brother and I would have private lessons with him.” Quinn said, careful not to say Edmund’s name. He knew she had read about his family.

“Lessons?”

“Like Sunday school... except more rigorous. Anyway, Father Marcus abused both of us. I tried to protect my brother and myself. When I went to my parents, they had us beaten for speaking against a man of God.”

“What the fuck? Where are your parents now?” she asked.

“They’re dead,” he replied, flatly.

She reached out to embrace him. He rested his head on her shoulder as tears threatened to spill over. “My brother couldn’t handle it anymore, and when he ‘graduated,’ he threw himself off a cliff.”

Ryane held him tighter as she rubbed his back. “I’m so sorry,” she said, tears running down her face. “But you have to know that whatever happened was not your fault.” 

He let out a shaky breath as he slumped against her. His muscles slowly relaxed one by one. The wall that had faithfully kept his pain at bay crumbled, sending a raging tidal wave of fear and helplessness. He found himself gasping for air between sobs. 

She kept her arms around him as he soaked her shirt in snot and tears. His chest heaved, and his heart throbbed. He knew she could push him away any moment, and this thought only made him cling tighter.

“Please, please don’t leave,” he begged. His soul felt naked and exposed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said gently. 

No! You need to run! Try to fight me off or something! He wanted to warn her and push her away, but he couldn’t. He just held her tighter. “I’m truly sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry!”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Don’t ever apologize for having emotions.” 

“I haven’t told that story in a while,” he said, “I’m glad I told you. You make me feel... safe.”

“You make me feel safe too,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

                   He felt dirty and sickened with himself. I was going to kill her. “God, I don’t deserve you.”

He could feel his stomach drop as he realized why he could never bring himself to hurt her… to think of her only as food. He just couldn’t keep it in himself anymore. “Ryane, I love you,” he blurted out. 

She froze. His heart slammed in his chest as he waited for her to respond. Her eyes went wide with shock. Then she began to giggle nervously. Quinn wanted to drive a stake through his own heart. Why is she laughing? 

“I love you too,” she said, hugging him.

“Y-you do?” he asked, confused.

“Of course, I do! I feel like you know me. You see good in me. I was always seen as the ungrateful daughter and the rebellious student who hated a devoted teacher. Yet, you picked up on the fact that my mom was an abuser instantly,” she said. “You really understand me, and you make me happy. I can’t tell you what it means to me.”

He smiled nervously as self-hate and joy fought for control. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What have I done?He buried his head in her hair as another wave of tears spilled over.

She held him until the tears finally faded, and he pulled back. “You have no regrets about being with me, do you?” he asked.

“None.”

                   Please let me make her happy, he prayed to whatever deities were out there. He pursed his lips. “We need to do something fun.”

“Like what?”

A killing spree, he thought. “You decide,” he said.

“How about we go to a movie?”

“Sounds good.” 

When they got back from the movie, Ryane kissed him goodnight and went to the guest room. Quinn sighed and trudged to the game room. He made a bloody Mary for himself and sat in the large chair by the fire. He stared into the flames.

“Quinn first,” Father Marcus said, holding the door open.

Quinn walked in, wincing as he heard the door close, followed by the click of a lock. Father Marcus grabbed his shoulder and forced him to his knees.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Quinn said. His hands were in tight fists and his whole body was shaking.

Father Marcus stepped in front of Quinn and dropped his pants. Quinn turned his head away. “Now let’s try something new,” he said as he forced it down Quinn’s throat. Quinn took this opportunity to bite down hard. Father Marcus yelped and pulled out. He backhanded Quinn across the face.

                   Quinn fell over breaking his fall with his hands. He spat blood onto the stone floor and laughed. “If you don’t like how I do it, maybe you should find someone closer to your age,” he said.

Father Marcus pulled him to his feet, pinned his hands behind his back and forced him to bend over on the bed. “What do we say?” he asked as he inserted himself and thrusted.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.”

“Ten Hail Marys,” he barked.

Quinn gritted his teeth as he cried angry tears, forcing the words out. “Hail Mary, full of grace…” he couldn’t help but break down in gut-wrenching sobs. “Pray for us sinners… now and at the hour of our death! Amen!”

He shuddered, remembering the abuse. Then another horrifying memory danced through his head.

Edmund and Quinn sat outside.in the soft grass. They had just finished their “lessons” with Father Marcus. “Do you think God will forgive us?” Edmund asked.

       Quinn’s jaw clenched as he arched an eyebrow. “You don’t actually believe in God, do you?” he asked.

       Edmund shrugged. “Father Marcus is a holy man. People keep telling me I need to stop sinning and then God will make everything better.”

       “Edmund, if God is real, he’s a bloody asshole and I hate him,” Quinn said evenly.

       “Maybe I’m not praying for the right things... maybe I’m too selfish and my heart is in the wrong place,” Edmund thought out loud.

       “Shut up, Edmund!” Quinn snapped. “God doesn’t care! He doesn’t love you and he’s not going to save you!”

       Edmund went quiet. Quinn took a calming breath. “On the bright side it doesn’t hurt as much when you get older,” he said, bitterly. 

       Edmund smiled. “That is good to hear.”        

“I need to make Ryane happy,” Quinn muttered to himself. “But what if I can’t? What if someone else could make her happier than me?”

As he pictured her in the arms of someone else, a shock wave of fury jolted through him, and he threw his drink at the wall. The sound of glass splintering brought him back to reality. He stared at the big red stain. I could always take her soul... well, part of it. That way I could keep her safe. And she wouldn’t need to know. I could do it when she’s asleep then tell her it was just a dream.

He got up and poured himself another drink. But then she wouldn’t bleed... or age. She would have a lot of questions. He returned to his seat and sipped on the vodka-spiked blood. I need to get her permission to take her soul. For her own sake.

He debated on doing it tomorrow with the full moon, but he needed more time to think. The next full moon I’ll do it.

He glanced at his old TV and got an idea. He looked at the time. 9:40PM. Exemplary Electronics closed at 10. Perfect timing. Want more?

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[emiarainewrites]

Since (pretty sure) no one can disprove this, and in quasi-celebration of Pride Month, I’m headcanoning that Onyx The Fortuitous, Slayer Of The Bright Realm is both Autistic & Asexual!

From the way he interacts with people and is extremely passionate about what he likes to a very thorough degree, I instantly related to him (being autistic myself).

Seriously, there were points in the movie where he was talking and making references to people that made sense to him, leaving everyone else kinda confused, and I was just sittin’ there like “oh my god…I do that” or “is this what it’s like when I try to interact with people?”

He’s socially awkward and straight forward, but if you get him going about his special interests or relate to him on some level, he’ll talk your ears off (something else I’m extremely familiar with).

Plus, his little vocal ticks seem very neurodivergent to me.

And I believe he might be asexual but just doesn’t realise it (also something I could relate to). Yes, he is shown to have private fantasies and gets upset over speculation regarding his virginity, but nowhere in the movie do we see him cozying up to anyone in any way that isn’t purely friendly. Also, for those unaware, some asexuals do experience forms of sexual desire and fantasies. Spectrums, baby.

And I’d say there tends to be a bit more pressure on men and a certain ridicule concerning their virginity, so he more than likely feels embarrassed for those reasons also. It may not necessarily be that he feels like he just can’t seem to quote-un-quote ‘lose it’ yet, but rather that he may not have any interest and doesn’t consciously think about it until someone else brings it up.

Even at the end when Farrah heavily implies a sexual union by him joining with her, he doesn’t immediately spring for the obvious answer. He guesses something more tame before she has to specify that there’d be sex involved. This could just be him getting shy or something, but I see it more as Onyx not feeling strongly about engaging in intimacy (particularly with someone that he probably doesn’t feel strongly towards). He’s kinda the same in the musical sequence, if I’m recalling correctly (where Farrah even goes as far(rah) as taking on the image of his personal fantasy to further coax him to her side - and it still doesn’t work).

Onyx The Fortuitous, Slayer Of The Bright Realm (as played by Andrew Bowser) from the movie Onyx The Fortuitous & The Talisman Of Souls (2023) is Autistic & Asexual. And he probably doesn’t even realise this.

I dunno.

[parsley-the-crow]

I’ve been thinking of Monstrous Children AU Jekyll and Victor and their dynamic. (I think I’ve decided on the name “Van Helsing Boarding School For Monstrous Children” for the setting.)

First and most importantly, Jekyll is social, polite, cares about his reputation, and does a pretty good job establishing it from the get go. Quickly becomes well liked by the other children (besides Dracula and his friends), and gets all the teachers to be fond of him. He doesn’t go out of his way to seek attention, but it matters to him that people find him easy to get along with. Cause of how the original Dr. Jekyll was so concerned with making sure people thought of him as saintly, generous, and pleasant to be around. It’s not going to be problematic from the first episode though, he’s just likable. While Victor is none of that. He doesn’t enjoy company. (He described himself as being naturally unsuited to it in the original book.) He couldn’t care less what people think about him, they already tell him he’s way too intense when he’s focused, so he knows he can’t trust their judgment. (He was described as being vehemently interested in all the things he liked as a child in the book.) He likes Jekyll’s company because he wants to talk about the same stuff as him. But he will just leave if Jekyll ends himself up in a conversation with some other person. He also has a chronic illness that leaves him bedridden a lot, (it’s Victor Frankenstein, you know he does) so that adds another layer of “socializing is hard” on top of how unappealing it is. It’s also part of why his parents didn’t know how to take care of him.

So it’s like, the “manageable” child and his best friend, the autistic one.

Meanwhile, I’m characterizing Hyde as the personification of ADHD symptoms. The supernatural resilience and level of energy. The euphoric zest for life that you feel out of nowhere, but still have anxiety through. The way you can understand the consequences of your actions, but can’t really bring yourself to care because of this thing that gives you dopamine. The way we live off of intense competitiveness and spite. I promise it fits.

Now Jekyll doesn’t want anyone to know why he was admitted to the boarding school. He tries to keep people from finding out about Hyde and to their credit, the teachers who know respect his privacy. I’m wondering when Hyde should come out on screen for the first time. Since I’m writing this as a naturally occurring case of DID, that implies there was some sort of situation (before he came to the school) where the only way to survive was to do something that Jekyll couldn’t, but Hyde could. Some sort of thing he was forced into that his conscience couldn’t tolerate. So Hyde emerged in order to be a version of him that didn’t need to operate with a conscience. I’m thinking we meet him when somebody dares Jekyll to do something against the rules, which could be a negative trigger for him and/or a positive trigger for Hyde.

I don’t know where I’m going with this after that, Hyde ends up meeting Victor and being exposed to all the other kids. Something happens. I don’t think anybody is actually shocked by or scared of Hyde like Jekyll expects, it’s literally a school for kids that are deemed “wrong” or defective or dangerous. But he can’t help feeling deeply ashamed about it (again, this is me projecting. I am crushed by shame and self hatred about the consequences of my executive disfunction and other ADHD symptoms whenever I have a moment of lucidity.) And after that, he sees Hyde as a fact he has to deal with. (He can’t)

(And another thing!)

[thefrontofmymind]

i’m not sure if you still take requests, but i would absolutely love a fluff/soft matty where he comforts an overwhelmed/overstimulated reader! i’m autistic and have sensory meltdowns from time to time, and all i can think about is how matty would understand (being a neurodivergent lad himself) and how he would put his hands over my ears to block out the noise or how he’d take me out for fresh air to get away from it 🥹

ofc only if you have the time!!

- ✨

Overwhelmed (matty healy x autistic!reader)

an: i hope this lives up to what you were hoping for love!! lmk <33

You either had the option of focussing on your guilt or the too-loud music and the too-bright lights. You promised Matty you would come with him to this party, you thought you’d be able to handle it–normally you could. But maybe it was the long week you had or the fact that you had to mask all freaking day that just made it impossible.

You were trying to focus on the conversation of the circle of people around you but you couldn’t stop fading in and out of the disassociation that was forcing itself to the front of your mind.

You just kept quiet, it was getting harder and harder to breathe and you couldn’t move. You got stuck staring into the dark pool of Coca-Cola in the glass in your hand–each bubble was reminiscent of your mind, slowly rising to the top until it burst.

You couldn’t even make out what anyone was saying by that point, it was all just a blur of gibberish and indistinguishable faces. 

Right when you needed him, Matty put his hand on your forearm, squeezing just enough to get your attention–it was the one thing that kept you from going numb altogether. When you looked at him he just raised his eyebrows at you–his look of concern, the way he would always silently check in on you, especially in settings like this. You didn’t need to tell him so explicitly that you were struggling to function, the slightest shake of your head was enough for him to know right where you were.

“Time to head off, I think?” He phrased it as a question, even though he knew your answer, to help you save face in front of the group of strangers around you. You were thankful for that.

You politely bid your goodbyes as best you could while still so fragile, before Matty directed you to the front door of the swanky Beverly Hills house that had been stressing you the whole evening.

The air outside was cool and fresh, just what you needed. Matty let go of your hand once you were outside, but still close enough to your side that if you wanted contact with him again, he was right there for you. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he was used to you needing space in times like these, but he always wanted you to know he was there for you, however you needed him.

“Ice cream on the way home?” He asked as you both made it back to his car.

“I just wanna go to bed,” you answered. “Too tired.”

Matty nodded. As he turned the ignition, he was quick to turn the radio off just as the car started, but he’d let you decide if you could deal with wind coming in through the windows.

You felt so much more comfortable once you had gotten into a pair of cosy pyjamas, and slipped into your’s and Matty’s bed with fresh cotton sheets that felt so cool against your skin. 

The only thing missing was Matty, your Matty. You had to fight to keep your eyes open until he was out of the shower and in bed next to you. You never felt more calm than cuddled into his side.

“I’m sorry,” you said, breaking a long string of silence between the two of you.

“What for?” He asked.

“You know…making you leave that party early…”

“Oh, don’t apologise for that,” he scoffed. “You were just doing what you needed to do, and I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”

You couldn’t fight the smile on your face. “You’re too good to me.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Cause I love you, Baby.”