#but i am autistic and idk how any of this works

[sillywormz]

why don't i have a gf or a partner yet it's a mystery 🤔😔 <- voice of a woman who avoids human contact whenever possible and doesn't socialise and is ugly and unsettling to look at and would rather die than make the first move or actually initiate flirting with anyone

it's a big mystery guys

[jellypawss]

finally getting tested for adhd soon…after over a decade of not sitting when everyone else does, fidgeting with anything I can get my hands on, shaking my legs when sitting, not being able to focus and not being able to have a conversation without looking at my phone lol

[daz4i]

i don't understand why plants are a basic gift like this feels like smth you should only give someone if you know they're actively looking to get it (and then you should also get a specific type they may be looking for) or if they're already known as someone who likes plants. if i move out on my own and you get me a plant as a housewarming gift i will send you home with it immediately

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

[sublux]

what an absolutely exhausting couple of years i’ve had. i hope 2025 has something good in it for me

[pineappical]

Ted Lasso hcs bc I have so many....

Ted is autistic. There are zero allistic explanations for anything he does.

He also has ADHD

He's bi (I mean obviously) and he's known for a while. He just says he's straight bc he thinks it's easier to say that than to explain bisexuality to straight people who just don't get it.

Trent had no idea he was bi and is shocked to find out Ted has dated men.

Has body image issues (I love making fictional characters have all my problems)

Gets diagnosed with autism later in life. Everything starts to make a lot more sense to him after his diagnosis.

He snores in his sleep and is a blanket hog. The snoring doesn't bother Trent bc he also snores.

Kinda canon but he hates being angry. Like if he is angry at someone he feels like the worst person alive.

Also somewhat canon but he's an alcoholic. He starts working on it in therapy.

Legally adopts Trent's daughter. Ted loves her so much it kind of scares him at first.

THIS!!!! i remember i talked about ted being autistic with a friend before and how he went undiagnosed for soo long because people just thought it was some sort of quirk of his like his jokes that only a white middle aged man from kansas gets

[onemillionfurries]

screaming crying throwing up WHY do i have to go into work today

[concerto-roblox]

honestly i cannot explain the gender feelings i get sometimes. like i see a picture of a man and i think "god i wanna be him" or "god that's so me" but not like. i don't want to look exactly like him or be percieved as a man at all (like not even in a butch or gnc way i skew pretty femme most of the time)... but it's like if i was that man but also a woman that would be epic... or if that man was a woman he would be so me but also if he was still a man?? what is gender.

[the-doggy-diaries]

hello everyone i am moving back in with my parents after living away from them for nine months ... they are absolutely insane to me i have already had really shitty stuff happen and we have not even picked up my stuff from my house ... but at least i will be living rent free and i will be able to save up and try again

[autisticlee]

that feeling when you're autistic and put on so many masks, played so many parts, created so many personas, etc. to try to fit in and please people due to being severely bullied or abused or whatever, that you have no clue who you are. you never developed a "self" ever. you don't have a personality, but you also have 10+ different ones that come out at different times. you don't know what you like or enjoy because it depends on what persona is in control at the time, so it always changes. you contradict yourself a lot. you like something one moment, but can hate it the next. you try to ~be yourself~ but you don't know which of these persona masks are "you." are they all you? are none of them you? how do you know?

[boywithbear]

back with another opinion that I guarantee has been said before but I think autistic people who don't have an intellectual disability really need to speak to people who do

[dogbunni]

I have been on semi-haitus bc I recently got diagnosed with hypertension (at 24!!!! what da fuck!) so I've been trying to reduce some stress in my life while also trying to like figure out what I need to change diet/lifestyle wise and get all the testing done that I need to get done and figure out medication w my Dr. it's been kind of a lot

[babybarbies]

I just feel so unequal sometimes

[theloserarmy]

I am on a waitlist for adhd testing and am hoping something comes of that soon.

[vincentbriggs]

YOU'RE TRANS ????????

sorry mate you're just. you're so cool & as a little baby history autist i really look up to you as one of the only men i see in the. is scene the right word. and i've been following you since 2021? 22? and i love your work and i had no idea and i'm trans too and idk it feels hard to see a future sometimes but here you are ?? doing with your life exactly what i hope to do with mine ?? and idk i may have cried a bit anyways happy tdov <3

Sure am!! Started transitioning in late 2016! Hello and happy TDOV! and thank you!!

Here's a picture I posted last year of just how very much that jacket in the post I reblogged today does not fit me any more. (Age 18 vs 28) I can't even get both shoulders into it, and that's after having chest material removed.

None of my older waistcoats fit either, because my posture straightened up a ridiculous amount, and my ribcage definitely got bigger. (Which gradually happened over more than a year, so to anyone reading this who's planning on top surgery - don't make any super elaborate heavily embroidered waistcoats until at least a year after, or it will probably get too narrow in front! I've donated nearly all my pre-2018 waistcoats and coats to a local theatre!)

I ought to mention being trans more often so more people can go "same hat!", and I should also try to remember to make sure my pin cushion is visible in my sewing videos sometimes.

Also! I think having a rounder face and wider hips makes me better suited to early 18th century looks.

And late 17th if I get around to sewing some stuff from then. And the 1820's-40's, the men in fashion plates around that time were VERY hourglass shaped. And probably other periods too, the modern ideal of broad shouldered square jawed dudebros looks rather strange in a lot of historical eras!

[starsofjewels]

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.