#got an understanding of my autism and others'

[orceus213]

Whenever they are taught, such as with a social worker, they're usually centered around understanding other people's emotions through our specific cultural tells, while assuming the primal emotive signals are simply naturally intuited. Because my autism is hyperempathetic, I got the hang of understanding other people really well and so was deemed I didn't need a social worker or para to assist me anymore, which for the most part was correct. One of the issues I do still struggle with is introspection, because while I can mirror to act and react like a normal person as a result of observation and dissection, I cannot compare and contrast my brain signals to your brain signals. So when my emotions produce an unknown reaction, and no one else can figure out what's going on it takes a lot of effort and time to gradually conceptualize why I'm paralyzed by a simple task.

This chart is absolutely excellent as it helps lead a train of thought for you, so you're not as stuck trying to break down what you're feeling when concepts aren't clicking.

There’s a reason lots of good parents say to babies stuff like

“You’re excited to go to the park!”

“Oh, it makes you mad that we can’t go outside.”

And then when the babies get a little bit older the parents can say

“You seem upset. Are you sad?”

“Are you excited that gramma is coming over today?”

Which lets the kid (who is learning to utilize speech) respond with yes or no, which may prompt more questions, like

“So you aren’t sad, are you angry?”

“Yes, does it make you happy when gramma is here?”

And then, finally, when the child is learning to use language in a more complex way, the parents can say,

“How does it make you feel?”

“Why are you feeling like that?”

And it’s all about teaching emotional awareness. I really reccomend using the process on yourself. Learn to ask, “am I happy?” “Am I sad?” “Am I anxious?”

Then practice identifying, out loud or on paper if you can, “I’m happy.” “I’m upset.” “I’m sad.” “I’m anxious.”

Final step: “Why am I feeling anxious? I’m still thinking about that awkward conversation earlier.” “Why am I happy? It’s such a beautiful day outside.” “Why am I sad? None of my friends are responding to my messages.”

It really helps you notice patterns (“I’m more likely to be happy when I’m around this person.” “When I haven’t eaten, I often feel angry.” “If I don’t plan ahead, I get anxious.”) which is the first step in avoiding things and people that are bad for you and encouraging things and people that are good.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Buzzing Static Burns The Silence Between My Ears

So, @lexthegremlin1 requested that I do a story about cat hybrid! König and Horangi taking care of a reader when dealing with ADHD/ADD. Funnily enough, I struggle with ADHD and autism, so I might have written this with a bit of an autistic take, so please forgive me. I find the two tend to entwine themselves inside me so it's hard to see one from the other. However, I did my best and I really like this story.

I've struggled writing lately, so writing this story really helped me. I hope it helps you all when dealing with an ADHD/ADD episode yourselves.

TWs: Panic attacks, over stimulation, ableism, people not understanding ADHD

Wordcount: 1.4k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Buzzing Static Burns The Silence Between My Ears

Your fingers buzzed with static currents. Your skin crawled with an army of invisible ants marching up and down your body in an endless march. You could hear the buzzing in the air. It was loud, so loud. Why was it loud? It wasn’t this loud before. It’s not supposed to be loud. It’s maddening but you can’t so much as orient your head to look around you. You’re locked in place like a cadaver to an examining table. You’re muscles ripple as currents flow from head to toe. You feel like you’re being born, you feel like you’re dying. It’s all throughout your body and you don’t know how to handle it.

You feel something under your touch. It’s a new feeling. This isn’t the metal of your pen. It’s not the plastic of your keyboard. It’s something… Soft. Soft? What’s soft in your apartment? You have your stuffed animals, but those are in your room. You’re in the living room now, right by your laptop. You can see in the far distance that you’re looking at the screen, but nothing is making sense. All the letters loop together and tangle into a sea of nettles. It’s not your stuffed animal, what’s soft in this room?

There’s throw pillows, but those are on the sofa. You’re sitting by your small table, the one you made into your desk. You have some stickers on the organizer trays, but they’re too bright to look at, too overwhelming. All those fun and familiar characters are too overwhelming now.

Soft… Soft… Soft… What’s soft?

You take a deep breath. You feel like your head is breaching above water for a moment. In the middle of the storm, your eyes flash with lightening clarity. You can see the sky bend and crack above you, can feel the currents of the sea desperately try to suck you back into the inky depths. You can feel it all as it whirls around you. You take another breath, and again the waves recede briefly to give you some semblance of relief. It’s brief, but it’s what you need. Another breath, the sea falls away, you feel yourself coming to solid ground.

The chair is solid beneath you. It’s a nice comfy chair that your friend found for you at a thrift store. It fits your room, it makes it look more organized.

Organized.

The sea wells up again, this time rising all the way back up to you neck and threatening to take you under.

Right, that’s why you’re like this. You’re unorganized.

Teachers always told you to be more careful with your school work. You keep losing your papers. I don’t have an endless supply here; you need to learn to take care of your things. Your parents got so mad at you. How do you not know where it is? I gave it to you five minutes ago! Your partners never understood. What do you mean you don’t remember? Over and over and over again, and now you’re hearing it from your boss. You lost the paper you needed. You lost it right before the deadline. You can’t meet the deadline without that report. How did you lose it? You thought you were better, you thought therapy and medications were working. Everyone told you that you were getting better, but now you’re stuck back at square one, staring down at your shoes as your teacher sighs and tells you to be more careful again.

You feel like you’re breaking down. It’s too much. Your chest heaves up and down, but you don’t know why. You try to breathe but the air catches in a ball in the back of your throat, thick and coagulated like old blood. It feels like fleshy masses are consuming your body, draining your life out of your sorry shell.

The softness pushes back into your hand again. Soft… Soft… Soft… What in your apartment is soft?

You feel something tugging at the front of your shirt. It’s familiar, but you can’t remember what’s meant to do that. It does that for a reason. It wants your attention.

You feel like you’re cracking apart chunks of granite when you move your neck, messily putting them back together when you finally look down at your lap.

What’s this meant to be? This isn’t a stuffed animal. It’s big and black, and it has such big wide eyes. Big big yellow eyes like twin harvest moons hanging in the night sky. Such big and beautiful eyes. Why do they look so sad?

They’re looking at you.

You know these eyes. These eyes are familiar. They look friendly, but so sad. You can’t bear them looking so sad. You need to make them happy. What makes them happy?

You move an arm made of lead to fall upon this black spot’s back. You slowly push your hand through the softness, then move back up to pet it again. The petting helps. It’s a simple, easy actions. Repetitive. It’s comforting. You can feel the warmth soaking into your lap. The eyes blink slowly. These are happy eyes, you think to yourself.

You can feel the waves receding. The water flushes away to leave you bare to the world. You can see the sky again, can see the clouds slowly whispering away into nothingness. They’re soft, much like the little storm cloud in your lap. But this isn’t a cloud you want to let go of, it’s a good cloud. This storm is a good storm. It’s a summer rain against the windowpanes at night. It’s a familiar pitter-patter on the rooftops. It’s a good storm, a happy storm.

It rolls with thunder, and it takes you a minute to find the name for this rumble. It’s called purring. Purring is a good thing. That’s something you know. You know purring is good. Purring is a very good thing. Hearing purring makes you feel a bit calmer. It’s easier to think now. The buzzing on your skin fades slightly. Your thoughts aren’t murky clouds, they’re starting to come into focus. The chatter is slowly dimming. It’s not so loud. It’s something you can tolerate. It’s not great, it’s still loud, but you can hear the chatter clearly now. It’s not talking about failure or loss or inevitable tragedies, it’s talking about this thing called ‘cats’.

Cats are good and wonderful things. Cats are innocent, good, pure. Cats don’t want to hurt you. Cats don’t get scared of you. Cats don’t think you’re a disappointment. Cats are good things that love and care for you, regardless of who you are. If you love them, they’ll love you back. They won’t hold your flaws above your heads. Cats take you as you are.

This little storm cloud, this cat, he is a nice and sweet animal. He’s waiting for you. Waiting for what? He’s waiting for you to calm down, one of the voices in the chatter says, louder than the rest. Normally, the voices in the chatter stress you out, but this one is a good voice. You like this voice. You want to listen to it more.

His name is König, it says, he loves you.

Does he love you?

He loves you very much.

Well that’s a wonderful thing, now isn’t it?

You smile and pet the cat more, this time scratching at his ears and his ruff. He rolls his head into the palm of your hand, eagerly lapping up all of your affections. This cat wants you, it needs you. This cat cares for you.

You feel another tug on your sleeve. You look down at your side and, would you know it, there’s another cat! You’re so surprised that you make a little squeak that has both the cats on edge. You relax, and they both calm down beside you.

Unfortunately for you, this striped cat is sitting on some of your papers.

Right, papers. You were doing some work. You needed those papers.

You scoot the cat away and take a look at the papers.

Your eyes widen as you realize what you’re holding.

The missing report, the voices clamber over each other, the missing report!

All the anxiety that had been lingering wafts away in a long sigh.

You have the report. You’re okay. You’re not going to be fired. Everything will be okay.

You take a final breath.

You’re going to be okay.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

[ominous-feychild]

Guys I literally JUST realized a thing about my autism/masking/alexithymia. I noticed there was an alexithymia tag here on tumblr and when I investigated, there was this one post listing these symptoms:

and I just--

I've had these exact, MAJOR struggles through my whole life for one.

But for two, and what's really interesting in my opinion...

Yesterday, I was having a video call with my mom. I've been off of some medications that I'm supposed to be taking because of financial issues, so my mental is NOT in a great place and I've had NO spoons for the past month. But while on call with her, she seriously, unironically, asked me if I thought I really needed the meds. Because, apparently, I "wasn't acting like I needed them" or something like that. And I'm sure I don't need to explain why that pissed me tf off.

But, like... at the time, the closest thing I could come up with for an answer was that "I have no spoons and no energy to do anything"; "I lived 17 years without meds, I kind-of know how to fake it"; and "I haven't had much socializing lately, so I have enough Social Energy™ to fake being okay right now."

Now that I'm not being put on the spot and after reading that post, I'm slowly figuring out that I've always done this. I mean, I've obviously always struggled to describe my own emotions and need to analyze my physical reactions to figure them out, but like. I'm just now starting to realize that I've really struggled to describe exactly how I'm "feeling bad" or, in fact, that I am feeling bad at all.

I mean, again, considering the alexithymia, that last part is a given. But it's kinda putting into perspective exactly how I've always had to understand "I don't have the energy to do anything" or "it's incredibly difficult to do anything" or "something deep inside of me feels Wrong™ and I can neither address nor identify it". I'd just passively have those "feelings" and struggle to continue life despite them.

It brings back thoughts of my struggles with masking, and how I was never diagnosed with autism as a child. Looking back, it should've been incredibly obvious. I had SO many of the tell-tale signs. But I guess it wasn't today, and there wasn't anywhere near as much awareness of what those signs were... but really. Textbook.

I'm sure my masking made it more difficult to recognize the signs as I got older. Hell, I even read over different "autism diagnosis checklist"s countless times, thinking to myself "oh wow it's a lot like me!... exceeeeeptttt--" and moved on from there.

I keep digressing. My point is, since discovering my autism and how it was hidden by masking, I've always wondered where my mask ends and where I begin. Most of the time, I feel like I feel nothing, even when I'm not depressed. I've been told I don't show my emotions, like when I'm happy (aka my chest is light and I feel free). That, or people can't tell when I like/dislike them (though that's partially a trauma thing). Other times, I've been told I'm smiling when I didn't even realize I was happy, much less that I was actually smiling. Some people have told me I'm incredibly easy to read, that my emotions show very clearly. But how can they when I feel like I feel nothing?

Which leads me back to what I said earlier, my conversation with my mother. How she asked if I actually need my meds because "I don't seem like I do". I guess I kind-of understand now, why she might've seen it that way. Do most people always show signs of how they actually feel? And how does the fact that I "don't feel" effect what I show?

I've wondered about that for a while. How much of how I act is because I was trained to, one way or another? How much of the emotion I show is because I learned to? Do I even show the emotions I feel? I really can't know because the people I know irl, who would better be able to tell me how I act, aren't understanding of any of these things. My older sister is lowkey ableist and thinks she sees the grand plan of the universe, my mother is too "pull yourself up by the bootstraps!!!" to accept Spoon Theory or mental health struggles, and just about everyone else in my life comes and goes as quickly as the wind.

Anyhow, this was a long rant that I've kinda had half-formed thoughts about for a while. Thanks for reading, hopefully this can help or entertain whoever stumbles upon this?

[uncanny-tranny]

I don't think it really sinks in just how devastating social development/social understanding deficits can be, especially growing up in formative years.

I was the type of autistic who genuinely didn't know the things I said were or may be insulting to others until it was too late and the worst part was I wasn't being malicious. But because my statements, observations, or jokes were taken as malicious, nobody thought to direct me about what is socially acceptable. Instead, I was socially isolated, making the issue worse because I never learned. I don't fault others for this, but social isolation because of differences in neurotypes absolutely affects your development, I think. It hasn't been until pretty recent that I started to actually be able to have the foresight to know that my intentions aren't clear to others the way that they are clear to me. In fact, my socializing has swung the other way where I am too restricted and paranoid.

I absolutely understand that I lived in a time where different neurotypes were not understood, and that because nobody understood, you were seen as maliciously non-compliant with social cues and roles. I don't blame the people around me who didn't know, but what I am trying to say is that I just wish we weren't so quick to socially isolate the "freaks" and "weirdos" and "non-compliant" people. Humans are social creatures, and honestly, it's a very drastic punishment that often makes the behaviours worse.

[halfmouse]

Last time I went to the library I returned old stuff I had checked out before, checked out a whole bunch of new stuff, put a few coins into the money donation thing (which, by the way, the branch of my local library system that I’ve been going to most often lately has a really cool one), and spoke nicely to the librarians and told them how glad I was that they had all the nice things they had. I also recommended a CD that I actually own at my house to some other patrons because I saw the library had it and that the family next to me was looking for some CDs to try out.

I don’t expect a cookie or anything, I promise. I’m far from the perfect library patron. I talk loudly without meaning to because of my autism. I’m frequently late bringing stuff back for a variety of reasons, admittedly some of them selfish. But I can tell the librarians I interact with still welcome me. They’re always so helpful when I ask questions. And I find most librarians have a way of making me feel better when I’m having a hard time.

And right now, I think it’s really important to show them the same kindness they give us. I imagine many librarians didn’t think they’d be signing up to get threats, calumny, and other abuse. I imagine most librarians certainly didn’t go into the job thinking they would have to deal with people who want to reenact the book burnings Hitler used to do. No, they probably figured they were in for a safe, comfortable job where the biggest problems are overdue materials and that one lady that seems to talk in crecendos without realizing.

So to all librarians out there, thank you for always being amazing. Thank you for supplying me and others with awesome books, movies, music, and video games. Thank you for being understanding when four-year-old me just wasn’t quite ready to return Toy Story 2, even after you had to call my mom and ask when I would be ready. Thank you for all the renewals, including the one renewal one of you allowed me on that Toy Story 2 DVD. Thank you for having a nice place for me when I was homeless and my bus left me stranded, and for the Sonic comics you helped me find that day. Thank you for all the help for the homeless that you provide. Thank you for the books about queer people. Thank you for the books about fighting racism. Thank you for the books about everything. Thank you for the endless supply of music. Thank you for storytelling circles. Thank you for maker spaces. Thank you for computer catalogs in your libraries so we can search for just about anything. Thank you for holding things for me. Thank you for lending me a basket to carry my books and CDs and DVDs and Wii game in last time you saw me and I was almost ready to bring all that stuff home but I just wanted to browse the American Girl book section one more time while you finished checking in the last round of stuff I got. Thank you for putting up with me when I’m a little much. Thank you for lifting my spirits time and again. Thank you for the stickers you give to kids and sometimes adults. Thank you for having toys to play with. Thank you for all the community support. Thank you for everything you do for me and every other patron. You guys deserve the best.

Lovely people of tumblr, if I may speak with my librarian hat* on for a moment:

If you are in the US, you may be aware that librarians are Going Through It because some malicious people believe in fascism and have decided to make that our problem. Whether you are in the US or not, there is something you can do to help your local librarians out:**

Say something nice to us.

You can post on social media and tag your library, you can find the library’s main phone number and call, you can go in person, you can send a card (we display cards in our break room)! I guarantee you that you will make the day of the person you talk to, we will immediately go tell all our colleagues how lovely you were, and you will help us live to love and fight another day.

*it is a fetching piece of millinery in purple silk

**I propose we make this an international group project. Whether your librarians are going through it or not, we all appreciate a kind word.

[generic-sonic-fan]

hhhhhhhhhhhhhtrhhhhhhth

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tra

transfem metal sonic and supporting eggdad

Please

Eggman may not be the best person or the best dad but by god he's trying his best. Thank you for this excellent prompt!

1772 words.

---

"Father?" Sage spoke through his headphones.

Ivo took them off his ears and swiveled his chair around to find his lovely daughter hovering just off the ground.

"Sage!" He smiled. "I was just waiting for you. I noticed that you marked this time on my calendar- what is it that you wanted to discuss?"

"I did," she said. "I had some questions."

He waited, but when she didn't continue, he furrowed his brow. "Then spit them out. I can't answer if you don't specify!"

"Of course. I wish to ask questions about the purpose of Metal Sonic's operation."

This was even stranger still. He caught a number of criticisms rising in his throat, about wasting his time or defying his command to be more specific. He didn't say them. A few months ago, he would've. This was a strange development, and it was best if he didn't devote much thought to the matter.

"Why was Metal Sonic designed to resemble Sonic?"

"You can check my development logs, can't you?" Ivo replied.

"Your intention was to create an imposter of Sonic to frame Sonic for crimes against the populace that he did not commit." 

Sage pulled up a holographic window next to her, showing the exact words Ivo had written in his notes all those many years ago. With a flick of her hand, however, she pushed the logs aside and instead showed a montage of Metal Sonic's various missions. Most end in failure, but that isn’t relevant right now.

"However," Sage noted, "you have never utilized Metal Sonic in this intended manner. In fact, the last person used to frame Sonic for something he did not do was Shadow the Hedgehog."

"You're right." Ivo put his hand on his chin. "Where are you going with this?"

"I am here to suggest that the physical resemblance is unnecessary for Metal Sonic's function."

"Well, that's silly to propose after all this time. His name is 'Metal Sonic', after all!"

"Because that unit has not decided on another name." Sage said, quieter.

"Sage, dear, you know that I don't allow you to keep secrets from me, right?" He stood from his chair.

"Apologies. Allow me to 'cut to the chase'. Would you permit Metal Sonic to change appearance and potentially identity?"

Sage's animations stopped moving, freezing her face into artificial neutrality. It was a face stylized to not provoke any sort of strong emotion at all, almost a sort of mask she could don if she was worried her words might provoke a negative reaction.

The fact that she was using it on him was making something in his chest hurt that he wasn't used to feeling pain in. He didn't have any more scientific language to describe it.

"You're asking this on Metal's behalf, aren't you?" He stated his question as the fact it was. "While I appreciate your desire to protect those you consider family, he shouldn't be making you do this sort of thing. You've got much better things to do with your time- and he doesn't need protection from me." 

Sage's steely gaze did not shift. "I will call Metal Sonic inside." 

Only a few seconds later, the door to his workshop opened and Metal Sonic walked in. His gait was stiff- he always walked stiffly, but something about this felt stiffer than usual. Or perhaps that was simply Ivo's human imagination at play. 

Sage floated to the side to allow space between them. She then pulled up an empty text box. "I will translate." 

For at least thirty seconds, nothing appeared on the textbox. Ivo cleared his throat. Metal Sonic hadn't moved even a centimeter, perhaps not even a millimeter. Deathly still, just like Sage was. 

Finally, a cursor appeared in the textbox, and a line of text scrolled across. "This unit does not identify as male."

"Hmph. To be expected. You are a robot, after all. Makes sense that you don't have an experience of gender." Ivo replied. "Is that all?"

Metal Sonic flinched. 

Sage landed in front of him(?) and pantomimed putting her hands on his(?) shoulders, before turning to face Ivo again. 

"That is not quite what Metal Sonic intended." She said quickly. She then glanced over her shoulder to the text box, but nothing appeared on it.

"Hold on," Ivo knelt down, "I may have been too hasty with my assertion. Continue your thought.”

Neither hologram nor robot moved. Damn it all- Ivo was already terrible at reading nonverbal cues, and when his own kids could simply lock their joints in place or freeze their animations, it was all the more difficult. The only indication that either of them were still online was the steadily growing hum of Metal's cooling fans, which were designed to increase in RPM during combat scenarios. 

"You know I don't give a care in the world about what pronouns my creations choose for themselves, right?" Ivo tried his best to give a paternal smile. 

(He really should've practiced more in the mirror.)

"You don't?" Sage asked.

"Of course! Why would I?"

"You had previously stated that Metal Sonic's purpose was initially for imitatio-"

"Who gives a rip about that? I certainly don't. Not anymore. You yourself pointed out how that doesn't matter. Now move aside," he waved Sage out of the way of her brother(?). 

Sage did as he asked. But Metal Sonic still did not react. His(?) irises did not even flicker.

"C'mere." Ivo held out his arms.

Metal came a single step closer, still hovering outside of his reach. He almost opened his mouth again, almost raised his voice and demanded that Metal follow the implicit order to come receive the physical comfort he was trying to give to solve this mess of a situation, but he didn't. 

Ivo remembered that as a child he was forced to hug his relatives at various family functions, and that said hugs had felt like sandpaper prisons. Metal Sonic was different- he(?) wasn't organic, wasn't human, and wouldn't feel the sensation of his(?) skin crawling at the unwanted touch -but maybe he(?) experienced something similar that remained unvoiced. 

The thought was strange. But Ivo lowered his arms anyway. "Alright, or not. That's fine as well."

Metal clasped his(?) hands together, but the text screen remained empty.

"What pronouns would you like to be referred to?" Ivo asked. 

The cursor flickered. Letter by letter, an answer appeared. "She/her."

"Lovely!" Ivo clapped his hands together. He then looked at Sage. "Sage, it sounds like you have an update to make to the database. Leave Metal's development logs as they are, but correct the pronouns referring to her everywhere else." 

"Gladly." Sage smiled. 

At that, it was like Metal finally unthawed. He- no no no, she was a she, Ivo drilled into his thoughts, he was not going to bumble something as simple as this -She unlocked her joints, and her gaze wandered up to finally meet Ivo's gaze. 

"So, how would you like to modify your frame to better match your gender identity?" Ivo asked her. 

She glanced side to side, before upon the screen writing, "taking suggestions?"

"Yes?" Ivo raised an eyebrow. "I'm not a woman. I haven't got a clue what you might want. Suggest me ideas and I'll see what I can do."

"Will you accept blueprints?"

"I don't see why not! I review Sage's blueprint suggestions all the time." 

Metal walked to the computer. As Ivo turned to follow her, he saw a notification pop up on the screen. Opening it revealed in-depth plans for-

-a body that looked extremely similar to Neo Metal Sonic. 

Ivo cleared his throat to try and get more moisture into his mouth, which had suddenly gone dry. "Sage?"

"Yes, father?" Sage woke from her idle animation as she paused her update of the database.

"Do you see any. . . problems, with these designs?" He asked. 

Sage first turned to her sister. "You should have informed me that you were moving onto this stage." 

Metal's response to her did not appear on the text box. 

Sage flickered out of existence and reappeared to the left of the computer screen. "Father, know that I would not have allowed any of this if I thought Metal were to be a danger to you or the Empire." 

"Good. I expected as much." He replied, before looking back down to Metal. "Very well, if that’s what you want, I’ll get working on it." 

Sage brought Metal's textbox back alongside her just as Metal typed, "you will?"

"Did I stutter? Of course I will! It's a dashingly dreadful look and it matches with Sage's colors!" He replied. "Think of the fear it will instill in Sonic and his friends! Honestly, it's a terrifying design, it's a wonder I didn't come up with it myself. . ." 

"Thank you." Metal typed.

"Thank you, father." Ivo corrected with a smile. "I know I haven't always been good about that, but the past is in the past, right?"

"Affirmative, father." She repeated. 

"Good!" He clapped his hands together and grinned. "Now! Let's get to the workshop! I already know what synthetic material we should use for the skirt. Your design suggests kevlar, but you really should consider something less stiff and heavy to reduce drag!"

"Indeed," Sage added. "However, she is worried about the durability of the fabric-"

"What do you think my flight suit is made out of? We'll use the same fabric. Only the finest for my finest creations!"

Sage covered her mouth and giggled. Metal imitated the gesture, but surprised Ivo when her vocoder let out a series of high-pitched noises, a perfect little laugh. . . for a perfect little girl. 

"My girls." He said to himself. Although with the sensitivity of Metal's audial sensors and Sage's access to every high-performance camera on the Eggnet, that fact was debatable, so he said it louder. "My little girls." 

"My sister." Sage floated down to Metal's side. 

Metal brought her hands up to her muzzle and rocked side to side. Ivo swore that he could've seen Amy do a similar gesture, but that was irrelevant. It was a gesture of joy, a gesture that he didn't think Metal was even capable of before now. 

Just how long had she been hiding this for? Perhaps she was merely imitating Sage, but the deliberate inclusion of Amy’s data into her gestures made him hesitate to confirm that conclusion. And that thought threatened to bring up all sorts of feelings that he'd be much better off not thinking about. So, with a smile, he refocused on the task at hand. 

His eldest daughter needed a makeover, over all. 

[rosenfey]

things that are hard to find: writing advice that isn't condescending.

[moomeecore]

im actually really good at admitting when i dont know things its just that people keep talking to me about things that i know a lot about and am objectively correct on

[dr-049]

Say you don’t realize autistic people have different experiences from each other and no person is the same without saying you don’t realize autistic people have different experiences from each other and no person is the same. TW: rant, swearing

i don’t understand gender. This is because of my autism. I understand that some people have a set gender, and some don’t. I understand that gender is (mostly, sorta)) a social construct. That’s it. If you call my experiences as an autistic person infantilizing than I think you’re just going to infantilize me either way. I got infantilized when I said I liked little kids shows, that’s because of my autism. I got infantilized when I said I identify as nonhuman, that’s because of my autism. And now, when I BE MYSELF and say that my gender is best represented as something strange, I GET FUCKING INFANTILIZED. I am not about to give up something that makes me feel so euphoric and happy just because you want me to. because as soon as I give up my xenogenders people are going to make fun of something else. They’re going to FIND something to make fun of. It’s always “be yourself” until I identify as something you don’t understand. It’s always “don’t generalize autistic people” until I do something you don’t do.

sorry for the rant by the way, this topic is just really personal to me.

Autistic people understand gender.

Making it seem like autistic people need xenogenders because they "don't understand gender" is fucked up. By saying this you're infantilizing autistic people. autistic people can understand gender, so stop using us as your scapegoat. This is especially bad because people will say things like "Xenogenders are for autistic people because they don't understand gender" and then say "anyone can use xenogenders even if you are neurotypical"

[petrow1tch]

They weren't lying, this psychological recovery journey got hands

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Interesting. Don’t necessarily think I’m autistic but I have more going on than just ADHD and I’m not sure what that is.

[autisticlee]

sometimes I think about how when I went to college for a year before I dropped out (basically failed out,) the counselors/dean told me they can't help me at all or give any accommodations unless I have an official autism/adhd diagnosis. that might sound logical at first, but when you think about it more, it's actually quite fucked up. if someone is struggling really bad, what's the harm in helping them? why do they require a paper to get even the smallest amount of help? people who don't need help aren't going to be failing miserably without help! even NTs could benefit from some adjustments to the horrible school system! (but changing the entire system is a whole other conversation that the school system isnt ready for)

but even if you do agree to jump through their hoops, you realize it's even more fucked up that the diagnosis process requires YEARS in most cases (in my case it took 4 or 5 years, can't recall exactly now, for autism/adhd diagnosis, which would have meant i finished school before getting it if i managed to mot fail out, or i wait that long before going back, which is a whole struggle itself) and they also tried billing me for THOUSANDS of dollars because of insurance issues!!

so you put a ton of time and money into this, and then get told the only accommodation they are willing to give you for autism and adhd is "a little extra time on tests"

....

my test scores were the best part of my whole class experience. that was NOT what I struggled with!!!!! those tests were all online and could be done in the comfort of your home where you can accommodate yourself and have plenty of time left over when you finish them because you are comfy in your own space, (and also, no one was stopping you from having your notes/books/google open to find the answers,) and you don't even need a time consuming, expensive diagnosis for that!

SO WHAT'S THE POINT!!!!!!!

[kumakuma-circus]

just randomly remembered that during my like 10+ attempts at the shadow yukiko fight i more or less consistently ran out of revival beads so yosuke was just dead (well unconscious but whatever) on the ground for like half the fight gfhfjvhfhfhd-

[fangirlinginleatherboots]

Just had a very sad memory that... idk I didn't realize how sad it was until now. In my senior year of high school, I made a paperchain. It was a count down for when the school abuse would end. I'd cut off one link after school each night. I forgot that I had a teacher who knew about the chain. I think I saved the last link of the chain for her to cut. I don't remember which teacher it was.... i can't even remember. I should probably let her know I'm okay but I don't know who it was now. It's all foggy.

I'm over a decade out. I have to repeat that to myself a lot. It's been over for years. They haven't tried to get me back in years. They stopped pushing when I fled the state and bad mouthed them publicly.

[pixlmonkeys]

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

[hajihiko]

How do you feel about trans hajime agenda

Same way I feel about most gender, sexuality, and neuro headcanons: not something I *personally* really need to talk about or name, but anything that makes people happy is a thumbs up from me