#nerurodiversity

[do-u-know-this-autisticcharacter]

Do You Know This (non-canon) Autistic Character?

Propaganda:

This Tumblr post:

Obviously his interest in the supernatural can be considered a special interest, and he also tends to be very organized and gets upset when things dont go how he planned (best example of this is in double dipper). he also has trouble a lot in social situations and a lot of his behavior is stimming (like chewing on/clicking pens, chewing on his shirt, pacing, etc). also gf is a cartoon so its not too weird that he wears the same outfit every day but i am choosing to believe its because thats his routine.

[redbeardsghost]

Look, neurodiversity, like diversity in skin color or gender or sexuality or anything else, increases the beauty around us. It's only something to be fixed when it's a disorder, and it's only a disorder when it the nerurodiverse person says it is*.

*I _might_ make an exception for narcissism, because the people who have it often don't take responsibility for the pain and chaos they cause

Let’s say it together:

Autism ACCEPTANCE

Not

Autism AWARENESS

Everyone knows about autism, but many need to learn how to accept those with it

Accept everyone

Class dismissed

[bonnissance]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (◠‿◠✿)

thank you @ktlsyrtis!!! I’ve been hoping someone would send me one of these since I saw someone answer one a few days ago so y e a h  b o i *rubs hands together* time to spruik my own shizz (in chronological order)

1. Strawberry Moans Sanctuary, Helen Magnus/Kate Freelander, Explicit, 3500+ (CW: D/s kink, semi-public sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism, Course language)

This was the first proper fic I ever wrote—where I was legit proud of the work itself rather than just the fact that I’d written it and it was done—so it will always be super special to me. Also, it’s pretty good.

2. Time Heals All Manner of Wounds The Thick of It, Nicola Murray/Malcolm Tucker, Mature, 13k+ (CW: Course language, Physical Assault in the Workplace)

Back when most the longest things I’d ever written was still less than 4k and most of my fics were >2000 words, I sat down with the prompt one afternoon to brainstorm, started typing and four days later I looked up to find a completed post-canon slow-burn 3x longer than anything I’d ever written. Until recently the only that that had ever rivalled it was my honours thesis, so I’m super proud of this and also it’s pretty good. 

3. blood red shiraz will wash through these slate grey streets, Holby City, Bernie Wolfe/Serena Campbell, Explicit, 26k+ (CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence [specifically male aggression towards women], Descriptions of Dead Bodies+Body Horror, Implied Domestic Abuse, Implied Homophobia, Gore/Blood+Blades. Epilogue: Explicit Sexual Content, Fisting, Vaginal Ejaculation, Kid!fic)

This is my longest completed work and also the weirdest thing I’ve ever written. Like, me, writing a noir-esque rapid-fire get together with no smut? Then adding baby!fic?!?! set on the Left Bank of France, in a ‘30s where the war never happened??? Sounds fake but okay bc that’s def a thing that happened. And it’s good shizz, tbh.

(Also, this was also the first creative project I’d worked on since undergrad. I’d spent the previous two years producing pretty much solely academic work, and the past three years only ever reading fiction for research purposes. So coming back to prose fiction after finally starting my PhD, the six months of playing videogames before that, and the year before that spent analysing lesbian modernism and women’s writing (w month or two of research into hard-boiled noir fiction thrown in on the side) was a really interesting experience. 

I know that my writing in general is still developing, esp as I figure out how to write with my nerurodiversity, but I can tell the pattens I developed in this fic are going to impact my write for a long time and possibly even forever.)

4. I’m listing as tie between I want to open my hands to comfort you, Doctor Who/UNIT Big Finish Audios, Kate Stewart/Petronella Osgood, Teen, 3500+ (CW: social anxiety, verbal confrontation + resulting panic) and Realisations, Bernie Wolfe/Serena Campbell, Teen, 2500+ words (CW: Implied homophobia) bc when I started writing both of these works I thought they’d be like, at most, 500 words each. That was an incorrect assumption. Not only that, neither of them are smutty and they are both full of feelings and I’m really pleased with both of them for similar reasons, so it makes sense to list them both.

5. the remains of your kiss linger on my lips, Holby City, Bernie Wolfe/Serena Campbell, Explicit, 6k+ (CW: Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation)

So I started this piece to work on my dialogue skills and roll back on the block prose (lmao that did not��happen). In the process of writing I decided to let go of my academic inclination to never use contractions outside of speech/quotes and it changed the vibe of the prose entirely and I really like it. 

[apexart-journal]

Stephanie Lawal, Day #21

Just a quick note on the healing process of Day #20.  In the moon cycle group, we were asked to name one daily ritual - good or bad.  I could only think of one thing that I do every day without fail.  To my mind it is a bad and quirky habit, but I felt safe sharing.  At the end of the meeting, two people came up to me to express similar habits they had had.  I know the logic behind the comfort in knowing that you are not the only one.  Even with this knowledge, these admittances had an immediate and comforting affect.

Also on Day #20, I decided to have breakfast at the hotel.  A “full English breakfast” was offered, and though I had been feeling particularly bloated and annoyed with my food choices, I also wanted to know the true definition of this meal, as opposed to what my coworker gets from the local deli on 1st Avenue on the weekend.  I was pleased that in this case it consisted of: one poached egg, beans, one sausage, two slices of “bacon” (English bacon has nothing on American bacon - not nearly enough fat) and as a substitute for toast, a neat little half portion triangle of a hash brown.  Really nice portion sizing.

I started off Day #21 with a much desired bath.  I had woken up early specifically for this.  The tub itself was long enough to stretch out in, in fact so much so that I experience drag from the water when I attempted to sit up, and it took two attempts which caused waves in the tub.  Somehow though, I could not relax.  I have no idea why.  I cut my bath time short, and proceeded with my day.  

My first activity was to go back to Old Town to the Fisherman’s Museum, to get a tour.  As I was checking out of the hotel, I realized that I had left my purse, which only contained a notebook, pen, and epi-pen, at the yoga studio where I had attended the last night’s event.  I was either going to walk east toward the museum. or west towards the studio.  I went for the tour, which was interesting and let me know how culturally invested in fishing this part of Hastings still was, and I opted to deal with my purse afterwards.  It was a small enough thing, but from there I was headed to the train to Bexhill - back a bit west for my next activity, and then home to Brighton.  All the worry over this just led to an upturned feeling that I had had for a couple of days.  While feelings of  discombobulation are familiar to me, they are still uncomfortable and undesired.

In Bexhill I went to the De La Warr Pavillion, which is mainly an exhibit and performance space, with a café, outdoor patio, and more incredible curbside views of the sea.  The exhibit I looked at - Mikhail Karikis’  “I Hear You” exhibit, which was all about different means of communication of carers to their nerurodiverse (a term I have just learned from the glossary accompanying the exhibit, but that I realize people have been using in conversations) clients.  The five videos were positioned on stands, spread around the room at a level and in a way that they felt suspended.  Also while watching one, I would sometimes feel that someone else was in the room, as I could hear the audible communication coming from other videos.  The exhibit focused on the carers.  I would have to admit that before some of the experiences I had on this trip, that my view of people with developmental disabilities was shortsighted and narrow.  I would say that if I am being completely honest, I envisioned these relationships as being between someone who has to be handled and their handler.  Also, I saw this as an always extremely delicate process, different to how “normal people” (neurotypical) “handle” each other.  In addition to my other experiences in the fellowship, these videos helped me to understand that I was wrong, and that we are all, of course, individuals with very individual needs, wants, desires, etc. 

One of the five screens of the exhibit disturbed me a bit.  Though I spent a lot of time with each scene, I probably spent the most with this one in particular - coming back to it several times.  In this scene the carer was holding/hugging and rubbing the person for whom he was caring.  This was very intimate, and at times her face was nuzzled into his neck.  I thought about my feelings of the night before and acknowledged that most if not all of us need touch.  I struggled to figure out what my problem was.  There was nothing inappropriate about the carer’s actions.  I determined that I have been brought up in a society that labels certain people as vulnerable/victims, who must always be “protected” from perpetrators.  The more I sat with this thought, the more I thought about my own roles in society - specifically in my profession, but overall.  In our assigned roles, “society” makes presumptions about capabilities.  Often these assumptions are erroneous, or at the very least limiting.  As we acquiesce to these assignments, sometimes we don’t strive to discover our true limits.

After piling my belongings in a corner, and waiting for the two people who had joined me in viewing the exhibit to leave, I did a few cartwheels.  Every now and again, I do a cartwheel, just to make sure that I still can.  I like to do them when I travel, so that I can remember the last time I did one.  Sometimes years pass in between cartwheels.  I can still do them, but will have to find the space to practice them more frequently as my form was clearly off.  I came out of each one with enough momentum to continue into a bit of a twist and having my legs crossed.  Hahaha.

Aside, aside - All toilet bowls here are deep.