#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 neurodivergent¹. 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.

[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

[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

[basilthesnakingthing]

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!)

[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.

[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.”

[jadetheblueartist]

Does anybody have any tips for actually meeting people and making genuine connections irl? Bc I (an extremely anxious autistic) do not get it. (Kinda vent ahead ig?)

I feel like school is the place a lot of people my age would do that, but I don’t get how that works bc during school I just do school. Then there are some activities outside of school, but they’re all so stressful I can barely go to any of them. Lots of loud and crowded environments for hours on end.

And when I do manage to talk to people and be friendly, it always seems like such a surface level ritual. Hi, how are you, oh I’m doing good, that’s great, niceties, niceties, etc. I don’t feel like I’m making any real connections with anyone I’m around, which I assume I’d try to help by being around them more, but it’s very difficult for me to do that bc all the times I could be around them more I just feel like throwing up, sobbing, and running away simultaneously.

It probably doesn’t help that my only experience with friendship so far has been family and what at least started as a sort of online friend. I made my first actual friend in Covid since we went to the same school and bonded over an acquaintance’s story that she wrote (special interest) during Covid. We messaged a bunch before actually talking irl and then when we did it was easy bc it was about an interest. But since they outgrew the interest we kinda drifted and now I’m back at square one. That’s why online friends seem so dope I think. This is the only way I’ve known to make friends.

But I don’t really know what to do now. I vaguely know I few people at the new school I’m at, and they seem fine. But I don’t really see it going anywhere past friendly acquaintances. And I try to be nice and stuff? But I do t really know how I come off so maybe I’m messing it up.

According to my mother (who was one of the teachers at my old very small school), people liked me. However, I’m 80% sure people like the polite people pleaser that I was for most of my life. Once I started having opinions, standing up for my beliefs, and disagreeing with people, I started to notice a shift. The reason my best friend and I stopped talking was bc I developed beliefs, and we didn’t match up at all. And I’m not exactly upset since I like that I’m able to have opinions now, but I think people just didn’t see a reason to really care one way or another, but since I was polite they were chill. I still wanna be nice but I’d also like to have opinions without running people off.

I wouldn’t really be too concerned with this if not for the fact that my mom is always worried about me not having irl friends. I’ve made peace with being alone since I like it most of the time anyway and have come to learn to be more independent (since my last friendship was really just me attaching to her as a comfort person I think). And I kinda don’t want to “waste time” on a relationship since this is my last year of high school and most people don’t stay friends after high school. I literally haven’t talked to any of the people I’d been “friends” with for seven years since the end of the last school year. But I still feel like having a friend would be good, I just don’t want it to be for nothing and end as soon as we aren’t near each other every day.

Then I think, well maybe this is just gonna be really difficult. Maybe this is how being autistic can be disabling. I kinda want to tell my mom this and hope she’d try to do something else but think she’d just pull a “you can’t use that as an excuse.” Right now it just seems like she doesn’t get it completely. Like yes, I’d like friends, but going away to a random place to congregate with peers I barely know in a very close area with risks of being touched for an entire day? That makes it very difficult.

And I also feel like everybody will kinda suck. Like this is a private Christian school I’m at so why can’t people just stop using slurs and making fun of disabled people? I probably have too high standards or something, but since I’m fine with being alone idk that it matters too much. My mom just wanted to put me in a bigger school for more friend opportunities, so if I don’t make friends I feel like she’s gonna be upset and think that I’m not trying but I am it’s just really hard.

Idk this kinda went all over the place, I just need some advice. How and where do you people make friends?

[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.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Paul Terdal

Published: Jul 2, 2024

It’s understandable to want to help troubled kids. But the evidence simply isn’t there that unproven drugs and surgeries are what they need.

In our drive to eliminate health inequities, my fellow liberal Democrats and I are eager to help children who identify as transgender. This compassionate urge has led our state, Oregon, to fast-track Medicaid coverage of medical transition services for kids, including puberty-blockers, cross-sex hormones, and surgical removal of breasts and genitals. Yet I’m deeply concerned that in the push for equity, Oregon has ignored evidence, to the point of jeopardizing children’s health. I know from experience that my state can do better to ensure that kids get medically necessary care.

Oregon has long been a national and even international model for evidence-based medicine. I personally encountered my state’s strong commitment to medical science after my two young sons were diagnosed with autism in the late 2000s. At the time, few autism treatments were covered by insurance or Medicaid anywhere in America, so I worked with state leaders and a broader coalition to right that wrong. One key hurdle was Oregon’s Health Evidence Review Commission (HERC), which determines what treatments Medicaid covers and strongly influences the coverage of private health-insurance plans.

HERC held us to its customary high standards for quality of evidence. We organized testimony from some of the world’s leading experts on autism and submitted reams of peer-reviewed journal articles, all of which were rigorously scrutinized by HERC’s experts. We prevailed only after the U.S. Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality published a groundbreaking systematic review that supported the effectiveness of behavioral interventions for autistic children. In 2014, HERC approved Medicaid coverage of such treatments for children like mine. HERC’s wise focus on evidence steered patients and physicians away from risky and unproven interventions that were popular at the time, some of which, such as chelation therapy, reportedly killed autistic children. To this day, I’m grateful for the commission’s high standards.

Yet HERC hasn’t upheld the same standards for gender medicine. To its credit, the commission began looking at this issue in 2012, before gender dysphoria was on the social radar. At the time, based primarily on studies of adults over the age of 30, it concluded that there was “very poor evidence” of benefits of medical interventions for patients. Even so, HERC decided in 2014 to provide comprehensive Medicaid coverage for puberty-blockers, cross-sex hormones, and surgeries for anyone, including children, who identifies as transgender. In a strange departure from its own rules, HERC didn’t run these policies through its evidence-based-guidelines subcommittee. In my fight for autism coverage, that subcommittee was the most important part of the process.

I’m confident the commissioners were trying to help people in what was then a unique situation. At the time, in 2015, the state estimated that very few patients would choose medical transition: according to NPR, “at least 175” patients per year, of all ages. NPR quoted HERC’s medical expert as estimating that the combined total cost for this coverage would be “up to $200,000 — for the whole state.” Yet by 2019, more than 7,500 Oregonians were receiving such treatment, at a cost of over $20 million per year. Based on my analysis of state data, hundreds of children have received some combination of puberty-blockers, cross-sex hormones, and surgeries. None of these procedures have gone through clinical trials to demonstrate their safety and effectiveness, and in the case of hormones, children are receiving drugs that haven’t been approved for such use by the FDA.

Amid this exponential rise, HERC in 2023 commissioned a thorough review of the latest studies. The draft report, which I obtained via a freedom-of-information request, found that the evidence was still very limited. For youth, the investigators reported that they were unable to find any systematic reviews — the key evidence we had to provide for autism coverage — with “extractable data” showing benefits of transgender treatments for children. The report also noted that many lower-quality studies can’t be applied to patients who seek a rapid gender-affirming transition, which is typically the case with children. The report was essentially Oregon’s version of the Cass Report, which the United Kingdom released in April.

Yet Oregon’s report was never finalized, and HERC staff didn’t even present their draft to the body’s 13 commissioners. Instead, after the state passed a law requiring the coverage of “accepted standards of care” for transgender treatments, HERC quickly endorsed guidelines from an advocacy group — without any analysis of the contents. The guidelines are highly aggressive yet based on low-quality evidence. Today, preteen Oregonians can be put on powerful chemicals without FDA approval, before moving on to surgeries as adolescents. These interventions can irreversibly alter their bodies and leave them less likely or even unable to have children of their own later in life. The risks to their physical and mental health are high and, crucially, not justified by existing proof of benefit.

Equity cannot be achieved by ignoring evidence and stripping away consumer protections from historically underserved people. While I deeply sympathize with the goal of helping struggling kids, we can’t accept shortcutting medical ethics — and we didn’t accept it a decade ago, with autism coverage. The ethical path is for HERC to define “accepted standards of care” based on the best science. Medicine is supposed to follow the evidence because health and well-being hang in the balance. The stakes are especially high for children. If we truly want to be equitable, Oregon will stop undermining children’s right to evidence-based medical care.

[ Via: https://archive.today/WcL66 ]

[mariacallous]

So here we are. Kemi Badenoch is the leader of the Conservative party. That’s another couple of firsts that the Tories have beaten Labour to. So far, the Conservatives have elected the first Asian leader and prime minister, and the first female Black leader of any major British political party.

But as these firsts started to come quicker and closer together – we now have a brown party leader handing over to a Black one – two things have happened. One, the politics of the party has become more unhinged and its electoral record has tanked. And two, the profile of these mould-breaking new leaders has become more extreme. The two are not unrelated to the success of ethnic minorities in the Tory party. I am sorry to point this out, because there is a sort of ritual now that must be observed when the Tories do well on diversity: you must not speak ill of a person of colour who has been elected to a position of leadership for the first time, and the significance of that moment, above all else, should be respected.

That ritual now has become a sort of farce. Because many things are staring us in the face while we are asked to perform some perfunctory ceremony of celebration. The ritual now even has its own incantation: “putting politics aside” or “whatever you think of their politics”, you must say, we must recognise that this is a good day for British politics and society in general. I’m not clear how you can “put politics aside” when it’s Badenoch’s actual job, and when her record is so appalling. I mean, it’s Kemi Badenoch. And her job is leader of the opposition.

This is the woman who said that “not all cultures are equally valid”, when deciding on who is to be allowed to enter the UK. Who said that autistic people undeservingly receive “better treatment” and economic “privileges and protections”. Who thinks that maternity pay is “excessive”. That online safety regulation is “legislating for hurt feelings” and that net zero commitments are “unilateral economic disarmament”. And who has dedicated much of her career so far to pugnacious culture warring.

And if you were to just take a glance at what her elevation means to the ethnic minority from which she comes, I am afraid that there is not only little to celebrate, but a lot to worry about. Take Badenoch on colonialism (she doesn’t care about it); on Black communities (she thinks no such thing exists, a neat echo of Thatcher’s “no such thing as society”); and on racism (when Black people are in the wrong job, in her experience, they just think their employer is racist).

But you must park whatever you think of that, and acknowledge that this is a good day because it says something about diminishing barriers to the rise of people of colour today. What that obscures is the specific circumstances of that rise, and of which people in particular. It’s not just anyone who gets to the top in British politics, but those who adhere to a particular story – one in which their experience, success and racial identity allow them to undermine the concerns of other ethnic minorities and attack those minorities for not toeing the line in terms of their “integration” or political values. (Badenoch says that “ancestral hostilities” make some immigrants “hate Israel”.) It seems that successful candidates, because of their identity, can do the wider work of Conservatism when it comes to race in a way that their white counterparts are not able to without annihilating the veneer of respectability that distinguishes the Conservatives from the far right.

And the circumstances are also troubling. Kemi Badenoch, like Rishi Sunak, ran before as party leader and was dismissed out of hand. And like Sunak, she was only considered when the party’s prospects had dwindled. It’s an awkward question and again I am sorry to pose it while we are in the customary grace period of putting politics aside, but does there not seem to be a correlation between electing ethnic minorities as party heads, and a recent deterioration of the party’s performance internally and at the ballot box? The implication is that when the party is not really in serious play, it can afford to experiment with new people who wouldn’t have been quite the right profile in more bountiful times, and see where it goes.

It’s a lot to reckon with, I know, when there is a far simpler moment to land on, a far simpler story of racial success to grasp on to. If you had told me 10 years ago that we would have a brown prime minister and a Black female leader of the Tory party, I would have imagined a far less flat and dispiriting scenario.The Tories’ record on elevating problematic people of colour has accelerated quicker than society’s understanding that people of colour can be problematic too – and that it’s OK to say so. The party’s degrading effect on social cohesion over the past decade is far too clear now for any of us not to realise that this is the way the status quo works. Its very power lies in constantly expanding the profile of people included in the establishment so that they may stabilise it, by diversifying it.

Badenoch has the right to have whatever opinions she wishes, but it is also the right of others to feel excluded by them, and not be scolded for refusing to cheer an appointment that is at best meaningless, and at worst perturbing.

Badenoch’s election is a first that signifies nothing. But it is useful, because it forces us to confront the fact that representation does not happen simply by elevating women or people of colour. True representation requires specific people and specific circumstances that do something other than merely continuing, or indeed entrenching, the way things already are. It’s a curveball for sure. But we can catch it. And catch up.

[shirefantasies]

Hello! I’m new to Tumblr, your blog was one of the first I found and followed! I was wondering if you could match/ship/pair me with an LotR character! Specifically LotR if you end up getting around to me, please!

I’m 5’3” with dark hair, though I keep it shaven in a buzz cut style. I’m pansexual, so you can ship me with anyone. I’m also autistic and possibly ADHD and OCD. Still learning about myself and trying to get diagnoses and people that understand me.

Moving on! I’m rather goofy! I’ve got a silly, meme-like side to me that I have trouble restraining. I’ll constantly see references to memes/obscure things I like everywhere and always point them out. I also make random noises and jokes that only those close to me will understand or be able to interpret the meaning of. I’m a good listener, and always try to help solve problems, though I may not be too good at getting the end result where it needs to be. Hahaha! I like to cuddle people, though I’m a little picky with touch because of sensory issues.

As for the other side of me, I am very paranoid, and have anxiety, severe depression, and PTSD, so it’s hard for me to trust people. I’m introverted, too. I always have been but ever since the trauma that caused my mental health issues I’ve become extremely introverted, almost in a comical way. I have some self-hate based behaviors towards myself that I’m working on unlearning. I constantly need reminded to take care of myself, and will have unexpected breakdowns, depression lows, or flashbacks. There are things or actions that will upset/trigger me that may need to be avoided. It’s rough but I still try my best to please everyone.

I hope that’s enough, if it’s not you can always contact me directly for more info or with questions! Thanks for considering!

Well that’s such an honor! Glad to be an early addition to your tumblr family 🥰 heck yeah you can have a lord of the rings character, and I hope you like being a hobbit because because I ship you with…

Pippin!

Sometimes it feels like no one understands him. So when Pippin hears tales of some far-off hermit, he feels a strange kinship with them immediately knowing only that they are the subject of talk, too. Maybe they’ve disappointed people with ways they cannot help, too. Pippin, though, could never run away from people- he loves them too much, enough to try again and again until he gets it right. He doesn’t know why he is the way he is, after all. He just is. Isn't everybody?

He gets lost one day, lost further out in the edges of the hills then he's been yet. Not quite far enough to be frightened, but just enough to see the waning of the hobbit-holes and the thinning of the Shire's green hills. It isn't until the sun descends that he truly gets concerned, rushing to the nearest hole he finds and ringing the bell dangling by its big round door. You answer, looking quite puzzled and not entirely unafraid of the stranger before you. What do you say? "Er, can I help you?" "Well," he begins, "I'm lost, you see. Can I trouble you to stay the night before I return to the road?" Silence overtakes you, ponderance, glances this way and that, before you finally nod and bid him entry. "You've not come to report to the others, have you now?" "I beg your pardon?" "Back in town. All the rumors. Part of why I avoid it, not that it helps them," you shake your head. That is when Pippin realizes he's found his kindred hermit, and you are nothing like he imagined. Contrary to the stories, he thinks there's something about you that looks...friendly.

"You're the-!" Barely resisting the urge to exclaim 'hermit', Pippin glances around your mostly quite normal hobbit hole. "Erm, I always wondered why they told all those stories." "Because they're a fat lot of gossips, that's why," you shoot back, shuffling through your kitchen, "they aren't exactly the champions of anyone who's...different." "That I know," Pippin responds with a nod, voice going a bit quiet. His words have you turning around, peering at him like you've only just seen him. "I see. Well, want anything?" In the end, you share some of your dinner with this stranger, who tells you his name is Peregrin Took, more frequently called Pippin. Pippin doesn't mock the sounds you make, in fact you notice that he seems to find himself mimicking them. As you go through the evening's motions, he doesn't seem to mind that you have your way of doing things. When something you see reminds you of a song you made up, you can't help but sing it, and soon Pippin is joining along. You even make up a song together. When he leaves, you find yourself saying something very uncharacteristic: "If you ever want to come back, well, I'll be here." Something in his smile, the way he nods, has you feeling strangely hopeful.

Come back he does, and sing more songs to and with you in that beautiful voice he does. You're ready for him to recoil, to pack up and leave you behind like everyone else does when he catches a nightmare turning to a breakdown, but as he peers in the doorway he simply asks if he can touch you, hold your hand or even you. When he stays, helps you with breakfast and cheers at your smile, twirling you across the kitchen, well, you can't help feeling a rare peace at your little paradise getting a bit bigger.

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