#if i ever get an autism screening

[overleftdown]

im insane.

anyways; with the DSM-V as my WMD, im abt to cook up the most devious fanfiction of coriolanus snow developing a healthy response to his own personality disorder <3 i need to rewrite fiction to combat the irreversibility of reality.

coriolanus serves his purpose as a reflection of a tortured and corrupt society. but still… at least with fiction i can satisfy my melting brain with a happy ending.

[jasperthejester]

me: finally accepting theres a good chance im autistic and starting to work up the courage to ask my parents to see if i could get a diagnoses but being scared to

my mom: do you ever think you have adhd? if you want to do a screening for add next time your at the doctors you can

me:

[rackartyg]

in therapy today i just talked about the dark urge and astarion and my therapist was elated about it. it was fantastic. “wow you’ve really been using this story and those characters to process things. that’s amazing!”

the era of being ashamed of my interests is over. it’s apparently Cool and Healthy to use fiction to cope. i wish i could tell fifteen year old me about this it would blow her mind

[struck-by-the-rain]

i thiunk I hauve adhd. but I don't know what to do about that

[intertexts]

gmmm!!!!

[conanssummerchild]

getting increasingly frustrated with my autism screening appointments

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[cy-cyborg]

How your disabled character's allies react to their disability can make or break the representation in your story: Writing Disability Quick Tips

[ID: An image with “Writing Disability quick tips: How your character's allies react to their disability matters” written in chalk the colour of the disability pride flag, from left to right, red, yellow, white, blue and green. Beside the text are 2 poorly drawn people icons in green, one is standing with their hand up to the face of the other, who is in a wheelchair. /End ID]

Something I brought up in my big post about Toph Beifong was how the other characters reacted to Toph pointing out that things were not accessible to her and setting boundaries regarding her disability, which were ignored. I had more to say about it than I thought I did, as it turns out (when isn't that the case lol) but I feel like this is an important aspect of disability representation that is all too often over looked.

You can write the best, most accurate portrayal of a specific disability ever put to screen or page, but it won't mean much if all the other characters, specifically those we're supposed to like and empathise with, treat your character terribly for being disabled and having needs relating to said disability, especially if the story justifies their behaviour.

You see this most often with autistic characters and especially autistic-coded characters. The character in question will be given a bunch of autistic traits, most often traits relating to not understanding certain social dynamics or sarcasm, and when they get it wrong, the other characters we are supposed to like jump down their throat, tease them or outright abandon them. Autism isn't the only disability that gets treated this way, but it is one of the more common ones that get this treatment. It doesn't matter if you do everything else right when creating an autistic character if the other "good guys" constantly call them annoying, get angry at them or laugh at them for the very traits that make them autistic, or for advocating for their needs.

Likewise, if you have a leg amputee character who is otherwise done well, but is constantly being criticised by their allies for needing to rest their legs or taking too long to get their prosthetics on, it undermines a lot of the other work you've done. Same goes for having a wheelchair user who is accused of being a bore or a stick in the mud because they point out the places their friends want to go to on a group holiday have no wheelchair access, or a deaf character who is accused of being entitled for wanting their family to learn to sign, or anything else.

This isn't to say you can never have moments like these in your stories, but its important to remember that a) people with the same disability as your character will be in your audience. If you spend a whole season of your TV show shaming your autistic character for real traits that real autistic people have, they're not exactly going to feel welcome and may not want to hang around. b) it's going to very, very heavily impact people's perceptions of your "heros" who do this, especially in they eyes of your audience members who share the character's disability or who have had similar experiences. This isn't like calling someone a mean name or being a bit of a dick when you're sleepy, it's going to take a lot to regain audience appeal for the offending character, and depending on exactly what they do and how frequently they do it, they may not even be able to come back from it at all. And finally, c) there should be a point to it outside of just shaming this character and saying the other guy is an asshole. Like I said before, you're character is criticising real people's real disabilities and the traits or problems that come with them, things that they often have no control over, it shouldn't be used as a cheap, quick way to establish a quirky enemies to lovers dynamic or show that one guy is kind of an ass before his redemption arc. If you really must have your characters do this, be mindful of when and how you use it.

[monkeyzilla]

I don’t think anyone has ever been as insane about him as I am because I genuinely cannot go 5 minutes without thinking about him or else I’ll start shaking a bit and tweaking out. But like everytime I see him on my ipad screen I start screaming and getting extremely lightheaded and it gets hard to breath heh… he just gives me butterflies… (more like SEVERE MENTAL ILLNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!)😊❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I’m the autism fictional man hyperfixation final boss no one is on my level I genuinely can’t stop thinking about ken Sato I dream about him every night I made paper arts and crafts of him so I would cope going 10 minutes without seeing his beautiful face sigh

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[someonehugratchet]

Things I would say to TFP characters that would probably confuse them:

Optimus:

• big dumb blue bitch

• how were you a librarian yet you can’t get people to be quiet

• pulling all the hoes with that autism rizz, hey big guy?

• single dad

• Have you ever been fragged from both ends at once?

• pookie smookie bear

• magnificent blue bitch

• you’re shaped like a friend

• Is your spark secretly a cat?

Ratchet:

• Nurse Ratched

• Cuckoo

• Can you step on me but like not kill me?

• actually you can kill me

• I’m going to bite you on the face

• handsome

• Transformers can get pregnant right? Would you like me to try get you-

• Big Boy

• Pretty Boy

• I want to show you Hacksaw Ridge but I think you’ll cry and I Optimus would get mad at me

• toots

• heya sugar tits

• what would you do if I swallowed a coin

• what would you do if I throw up blood a week ago and didn’t tell anyone

Arcee:

• Sis

• Shadowheart wannabe

• “Hello Darkness My Old Friend~”

• Sonic The Hedgehog

• baddy with an addy

• I wanna chew on your legs is that weird

• girly pops

• girl you should get your nails did

Bulkhead:

• You have a squishy kind of vibe about you

• bubba

• bulky boy

• you are a sweet potato and I will not elaborate

• mean green mother from out of space!

• just a little guy

• a sweet baby

• I’m adopting you as my brother sorry about it

Wheeljack:

• slut

• sorry

• pleasure bot

• ARE YOU ITALIAN OR SPANISH I DONT KNOW?

• is being in a jet like being inside another bot to you or…?

• did you bite as a sparkling?

• have you heard of One Direction?

• they totally did break up

• …

• like the wreckers-

• pookie

• Lone Ranger behaviour

Bee:

• MY SON

• a wittle baby

• with knives

• Scout’s Honour!

• your puppy dog eyes could save the war I’m so serious right now

• bumble baby

• honey bee

• honey pie

• cutie pie

• I would commit so many war crimes for you

• starch that I will like right now don’t even test me

Smoke Screen:

• swiper no swiping

• twin~ where have you been~?

• have you considered war crimes?

• sparkly boy

• stoner screen

• vape screen

• Vapor screen

• shiny baby

• I have… another child?

• problem child

[inner-memoirs]

Self-diagnosis of autism is valid. Why is that?

The mental healthcare system, as well as the medical system in general, is still entrenched in misogyny, racism, and classism.

Women and gender minorities face difficulty and often aren't taken seriously whenever they seek care or voice health concerns. Women are more likely to be diagnosed with BPD, Bipolar disorder, depression, and/or anxiety before ever being considered for autism. Diagnoses like autism and ADHD are often seen as "boys' disorders".

People of color face similar difficulties, with many doctors still believing in racist medical myths and stereotypes.

As for classism, many low-income people and those in poor communities simply don't have the means to seek medical care or get tested for autism. Testing services may also be unavailable from a geographic standpoint, or practices may be grossly outdated (and biased), which leads to inaccurate results.

Getting late diagnosed is a whole other battle, as now you have to find a doctor willing to even look at you; most resources for Autistic people are aimed at children.

With all that being said, if someone looks into autism, does their research, weighs it against their lived experience and difficulties, and determines that they may well be Autistic... I believe them. And you should too.

"But what if they aren't REALLY Autistic? They're taking validity away from actual disabled people!"

For one, let's be honest: many of us disabled people aren't validated by society even if we do have a crisp piece of paper that says we've been medically diagnosed. Anyone who discredits one disabled person is willing to discredit the rest of us, too. I guarantee a lot of people look at me and see me as a "fake" Autistic person for XYZ reason, because I don't fit their image of what an Autistic person should be like.

For two, if someone finds community amongst Autistic people and gets information and resources that help them, what's wrong with that? Would you prefer that they go back to feeling lonely and miserable, just so you can feel vindicated and smug?

Let's keep in mind that if you're late diagnosed, you didn't go from "not being Autistic" to suddenly "being Autistic". You were always Autistic and always needed accommodations, now you just have a doctor that says so. Getting a late diagnosis, being misdiagnosed, or not getting any care at all comes with its own unique challenges and pain.

These people should not be shut out from the community just because their autism didn't fit a certain narrative, they were born with the "wrong" set of genitalia, or their parents were too poor (or uninformed) to get them screened.

[aroaceleovaldez]

one of the things i'm most disappointed in HoO with is how the series sets up a really beautiful continuity to the first series but now extending from a primary focus on disability to a wider focus on intersectionality (which in itself is a REALLY fascinating place to discuss particularly Percy's character and the overlap between his experiences as a disabled student and how many readers interpret his experiences as him experiencing racial bigotry in part due to his racial ambiguity and how those experiences have overlap and what does that look like for specifically a disabled student of color, etc etc) - like, there is so much set-up for so many things: we have the introduction of a bunch of new major characters, the majority of whom are explicitly not white. We have set-up for queer intersectionality topics (Nico, Jason's bi-coding, Piper being mspec as well eventually). We have set-up for gender intersectionality (all of the girls and the intersection of their disabilities and gender and for everyone other than Annabeth also the intersectionality of gender and race). We even have other forms of disability than just the primary focus of ADHD/dyslexia coming to the table with stuff like Frank having dyspraxia coding, Frank and Hazel both having childhood terminal illness survivor coding, Hazel having seizure coding, Leo having autism coding and Nico's autism coding making a comeback, Percy's book 1 PTSD even gets some references in Son of Neptune, Leo and Nico's depression get big spotlights, also Nico's general grappling with becoming weaker and new physical disability. Heck you could even dive into Jason grappling with gifted kid syndrome and how that plays into his experience with ADHD/dyslexia versus someone like Percy whose same learning disabilities present differently. There's so much set up right at the beginning of the series to dive into...!

...and then Rick does literally nothing with any of that. and it sucks. and then in TOA he does even less with it and just drops nearly all of the disability stuff in general which sucks even MORE. Also it's all made even worse by dropping or magicing-away the existing disability coding because Rick changed his mind about it (Frank's dyspraxia and Hazel's fainting episodes going away, etc etc)

Like, TKC emphasized the themes about how the Kane Siblings grapple with colorism a lot! MCGA talks about queer topics and disability and how those intersect with homelessness! The entire first series has SUCH in-depth metaphors about disability! But HoO and TOA just totally drop the ball about it and don't even try! The most TOA ever gives is the world's blandest directly-spoken-to-the-audience one sentence blurb and pretends that qualifies as representation and that they've fulfilled their quota. TSATS is even worse about the disability erasure and speaking directly to the screen and calling that representation, not to mention how little the TV show erased the majority of references to disability from TLT alongside Percy's PTSD and made Sally an autism speaks mom while they were at it. And while I haven't read it yet I hear CoTG is equally not great about how it handles Percy's disabilities (or Annabeth's).

HoO could have given us so much but it didn't and i will never forgive it for that 😔 also the fandom could stand to talk more about intersectionality cause it's a really interesting topic and there's so much opportunity to explore it in the Riordanverse that does not get nearly enough discussion.

[hg-aneh]

will you ever come back, or is this an indefinite hiatus/straight up dipping?

i don't know

all the i miss yous are making me want to come back but ik i would just be terrified and motionless as soon as i do

Vent-ish Rant downstairs

CW: Pedophilia, Antisemitism, Suicide, Ableism, Harassment, Bullying, all the important words except for murder basically

i want to fix things in private with the people who hurt me so things can be okay and I don't out them for being wieners

but i also want everyone to know who hurt me, yet I'm aware it's not the right choice to make. social media outrage barely leads to anything, specially where minors are concerned

hell,now that i think about it, considering the fact that they genuinely don't believe people older than them are allowed to have feelings, I don't even think talking would be the right move

it's scary, its fucking scary

fuck. the whole thing started with a person mocking the way i spoke about crowley telling me to stop babying him because i was a legal adult and shouldn't be speaking like that

i had just turned 18 and the person was only a year younger than me

like when it's gone to that point and shit is that fucked up, what can one person even do

i remember i laughed about it back then but truth be told, every single little thing I've been told and that I've listened to coming from the people who hurt me has fucking destroyed me as a person

I looked at my older Discord messages, from before this whole mess started. I was so fucking happy and shameless with my joy, now look at my sorry ass

i just.

it's crazy that i have to go around masking in social media of all places because there are people that take such offense to me being cringe that they legitimately turn into high school mean girls

it's crazy that there are people who claim I'm something i am not because they want to make me look bad in the eyes of their little circlejerking friend groups so they can feel like the hero of the story

it's crazy that empathy goes completely out of the window when an account is big, that people don't see human beings as human beings when they're behind a screen

"just log off lol" i am a lonely shut in motherfucker due to my autism (that, surprise surprise, hinders my ability to socialize), you do not understand what you're asking of me, specially while being in this country and at this point in time where I'm actively craving to kick the metaphorical bucket, at daily risk of doing so, and what basically is house arrest for my own safety and well being

(aka, avoiding to physically yeet myself into upcoming traffic or buying something to actually seal the deal)

thus far I've been accused of antisemitism, pedophilia, being too self-centered (which. bro, the reason why i talk about myself is because it's the one thing i can comment on without being scared of some random person coming to tell me "NuH uH" about it out of nowhere or worse, having their feelings hurt because I don't agree with them 100%), proshipper (which, to those people, the word implies wonderful labels such as "incest apologist" "pedophile" (again) "abuse endorser" among other things) ((sidenote, I'm on neither side on that particular discourse. my friends from both sides know this. I would elaborate on my stance if this wasn't already long enough, but it is, so I'm leaving it at an "I don't care, you do you, but please leave me out of it")), being... mean... because i blocked someone...? (this one is just. that's how the second wave of hate started btw. yeah, because i blocked someone. holy fuck), and there's probably a handful of other things I haven't seen yet. fuck it, there's probably someone out there calling me a zoophile because of my catboy au

My friends who I will not name because I don't want the high school mean girls crusade to get to them, have helped me stash out evidence for all of the accusations and bullying.

fuck, they were the ones who let me know about it on the first place, both actions for which i am eternally thankful for because it means I can defend myself properly should the occasion arise (dios no quiera)

I've already had to make a post on Xitter responding to the antisemitism and pedophilia claims, in which, for the latter, i had to reveal extremely personal information for the people who started this to give me respite if only for a while

and. ugh

What I'm trying to get at with all of this is. it's. coming back is scary. i want to but at the same time I don't think I can take this shit anymore

I wish I had people defending me like this when the harassment started because I'm a spineless little bitch who'd rather talk things out and at least be neutral with people than clap back and tell them to stop being stinky

but what's done is done and now i just gotta figure out how to fix my head before i do something stupid

this is not the full story obviously, I'm cutting off certain details as well as more personal depression stuff to not make this bible longer than it already is

fuck

TLDR: I need a hug, idk if I'm coming back, I probably will cuz I can't say no to people, and some teenagers are horrible

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/768686563949428736/honestly-i-do-kinda-think-the-discussion-around?source=share

idk, I think the "what's the alternative" argument still misses the point somewhat though.

for me, the point of "my body my choice" is literally just that - forcing a pregnancy on someone that they don't want (or forcing them to abort one they do want, for that matter) is SUCH a massive violation of bodily autonomy that the "reasons" for doing that don't matter. pregnancy fundamentally changes your body and affects everything about your health for 9 months. pregnancies that go wrong can threaten the life of the pregnant person AND their baby. that shouldn't be something people have to go through if they on board with it, period. for the same reasons you can't be forced to donate any part of your body if you aren't okay with doing that, even if you could do fine without it and the other person would die.

that's why as a disabled person myself i have no patience for the people who cry about "disability abortions" or compare it to eugenics. because sorry but people with ableist beliefs still deserve bodily autonomy, and it's just as much of a violation of their autonomy - and therefore their most basic human rights - to force them to go through with a pregnancy because their reasons make YOU, a person who is not going through that pregnancy, feel troubled. as i've seen posts on here say, you can't "perform eugenics on your own uterus." you are not obligated to give birth to any person you don't want to, and that is fundamentally different than a government or society killing people for who they are. same with people who want to abort because of the baby's sex. same with people who want to abort because, idk, they were given an expected date in the first week of january and they don't want their baby to be a capricorn. (i know this sounds like a joke but i have friends who are a hippie lesbian couple who announced the birth of their son with "it's a [his expected astrological sign]!" which was really funny because he was born a couple weeks early and then turned out to be the previous sign. so, people who take astrology way too seriously DO have babies)

i think that unfortunately and especially for a lot of people with conservative upbringings, a lot of people tend to see a hypothetical fetus with some identity in common with them and project themselves into that situation. the "what if i had been aborted?" thing but somewhat less self-aware about it. some feminist writing in the 80s talked about men doing this with aborted fetuses, seeing themselves as a male fetus being "killed" by a woman, but i think it's clear some women do it too when they share a (potential) identity category with a fetus. and i think the bigger issue here is that it erases the pregnant person. even the argument anon is making here, which again they're right about, still focuses on the outcomes for the baby rather than the person carrying them. and i think you "get" pro-choice politics better when you make a point of centering the person who is pregnant, and resisting any framing that (consciously or not) frames them as just a place where the baby grows. for instance, as a disabled person, my disability comes with a low pain tolerance that is a big part of why i never want to be pregnant. there are a lot of disabled people where that disability interacts negatively with their pregnancy in some way, and disabled pregnant people are usually among the first whose rights anti-choice people try to take away, whether it's their right to choose an abortion, or right to procreate in the first place, or right to raise the child they give birth to. i just really cannot take your disability rights advocacy very seriously when "disability + abortion" for you is only ever about the fetus and never about the pregnant person! (or also, when people fearmonger about autism screening for abortion. both because a lot of those people seem to think that's currently happening when it's not, but also everything we know about autism so far suggests it's extremely unlikely to be something we can ever detect with precision in utero. starting with that it's probably not caused by purely by genetic factors in the first place, and also that it's likely not just one specific thing caused by one gene. they're able to screen for down syndrome because it involves an extra chromosome, which is extremely easy to detect. also, sidenote, before people go into shaming people who abort fetuses with trisomy 21, keep in mind that there's a lot more to down syndrome than intellectual disability, including most people who have it having life-threatening heart problems that tend to keep them in the hospital for the first several months or even years of life. there are a lot of reasons people don't want their children to go through that, especially people without consistent access to health care, that is not just "ableism" toward the intellectually disabled.) geezus, this got long. sorry about that. i guess i just had a lot of thoughts about it, hope they were enlightening enough to anyone reading along to be worth the verbosity! but they were a lot of what convinced me when i used to be one of those people who was uncomfortable with "disability abortions"

--

Well said.

I think it's important that we let ourselves have our emotions about other people's choices without thinking they're a basis for policy. What if my child needs my kidney? Should I be legally obligated to donate? People will think I'm an asshole if I don't, but should I be obligated to?

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - December 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles for 50% off this month!

1. 7 good things humanity did to combat climate change in 2024

“The UK […] closed its final coal power plant in October. [… In India,] the share of power provided by coal dropped below 50% for the first time since the 1960s. [… A non-profit] has provided solar energy to more than 6,000 of the poorest Nigerians.”

2. California Voters Said Yes to Prop 4, a Win for Birds, People, and Our Shared Future

“[…] Prop 4 will direct millions of dollars for water conservation and habitat restoration [… and] includes a requirement that at least 40% of its funding go to lower-income and climate-vulnerable communities.”

3. This Pennsylvania school is saving big with solar and EV school buses

“Steelton-Highspire’s solar arrangement will save it about $3.6 million over the next 20 years. As for the electric school buses, Steelton-Highspire is one of thousands of districts able to access federal rebates from a $5 billion program created by the 2021 Bipartisan Infrastructure Law.”

4. Autism Speaks Canada shuts down in January. Good.

“As Canada’s autistic-led advocacy group […] we are relieved that Autism Speaks Canada will be shutting down in January of 2025. This is an opportunity for autistics and our families to collaborate locally to build new, neuro-affirming spaces and projects.” [If you don’t know why this is a good thing, please click here]

5. LA Zoo hatches first-ever perentie lizards, one of largest lizard species in the world

“The LA Zoo is one of only three institutions accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums that have successfully reproduced them[….] Adult perentie lizards can reach more than 8 feet (2.4 meters) in length and can weigh more than 40 pounds (18 kilograms), the zoo said.”

6. Research reveals an inexpensive fix for California's struggling wildflowers

“[… R]aking [��dead, invasive grasses”] is decidedly less labor-intensive and more ecologically friendly [than other management techniques…, but doing so] increased plant diversity overall, reducing invasive grasses […] while increasing both native and exotic wildflowers[….]”

7. A new EV battery could last more than 8 times longer, travel farther

“[… A] typical battery lasts 2,400 cycles, while the new battery lasted more than 20,000 cycles. [… Used batteries could be repurposed] for grid storage on wind and solar farms, the study notes.”

8. Women who are homeless in Boston find safe space and care at 'HER Saturday'

“Women can get lots of other care on the spot — from sick visits and basic health screenings to Pap smears and contraception. [… They also come for] "The makeup, the snacking and the girl talks. And ... picking out a new outfit," said Pinky Valentine [“a homeless transgender woman”].”

9. ‘It absolutely took off’: five UK biodiversity success stories

“[…N]ew methods are emerging to preserve, improve and generate new habitat and, in many cases, attract back or reintroduce species not seen for decades. After a nudge, ecosystems are often doing much of the heavy work themselves.“

10. Personalized gifts really do mean that little bit more to your loved ones, says research

“Research has also shown that receivers of personalized gifts are more likely to take care of them. […] In this sense, gift-giving can be not just an emotional exchange, but also a more sustainable one. A carefully preserved [personalised] gift avoids waste and brings long-term satisfaction.”

December 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)