#sensory overload tw

[darkkitty1208]

Entry for day 4 of Whumptober 2023, prompt no. 4: "You in there?" and @badthingshappenbingo​ square: Sensory Overload.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Doctor Strange (Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Characters: Tony Stark, Stephen Strange, The Cloak of Levitation (Marvel) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sensory Overload, Whumptober 2023, Established Relationship, Ficlet Series: Part 3 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Stephen has a sensory overload.

[emma-is-swaggy-and-epic]

A character i made a few years ago as a creative excerise to see if i can make the most complicated, outlandish and detailed design i could.

They're kind of an icon tbh

[lostcitysystem]

Don’t want to make this into a big deal or anything but as an autistic person, 99% of the sensory overload I get from public transport is people blaring TikTok from their phone. The repetitive sounds and just awful audio quality feel like nails on a chalk board.

I don’t like wearing ear phones generally because of sensory issues but I’ll never play anything out loud intentionally because I know I’m on the same bus/train etc as people that have had 12 hour shifts or have had to look after screaming kids all day or who just want peace and quiet.

Just be considerate of others.

i'm literally begging people to relearn how to use earbuds and headphones. i don't wanna hear your fucking tiktok while im waiting for my flight.

[theyaremanycolours]

Going nuts with the effects on Ibispaint.

[beep-beep-robin]

quinni gallagher-jones + common autism traits pt. 2

finally made part 2 to this :)

[underoospeterparker]

can’t remember if I already sent this in but tasm Peter Parker x reader who has sensory issues and gets overstimulated easily. n him just calming her down, giving her something to fidget with or chew on cause he knows that calms her, getting her into comfy clothes that aren’t scratchy or tight and just taking care of her. asking her loads of questions and giving her options to choose from so she feels more in control of the situation <3 ugh i love him

thank you for requesting!!

tasm!peter x reader / mcu!peter x reader, 0.8k words

tw: overstimulation

You're resting your head in Peter's lap while he tangles his fingers in your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. Peter's friends are sitting on the seats opposite to you, and the two of them are laughing about something rather loudly. Peter glances at you every so often, leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple. Every time he does that, you let out a quiet hum of contentment, press your head further into his lap.

You're exhausted from a long day of school and came home to Peter's friends. You'd given them both a hug when you arrived, but Peter already noticed you were out of it: Your eyes were unfocused, you had this dazed look about you, and you kept fidgeting with your hands, wringing them out.

Peter had given you a concerned look, clearly worried, as if asking 'Do you want them here?' You'd given him a gentle, reassuring smile, mouthed to him that it was fine. You were currently rethinking your decision as their voices grew louder. You began to hear the screeching of the kettle, the scratches your cat was making on the wooden table, the spin of the fan. You could feel your tight knit sweater sticking to your body, and you could hardly breathe.

You forced yourself to take deeper, longer breaths as you curled up in Peter's lap. His hand paused on your head but then resumed its ministrations, as he looked up in shock at something his friend had said. It all sounded like a blabber of words to you: You felt confused; disoriented. The air conditioner was on, but you felt hot. Boiling hot. You tried to pull at your sweater, wanting it off.

You resisted the urge to scream, and to calm yourself down you tried to focus on the ground, on the carpet, but you couldn't: Everything else was far too loud.

"(Y/N)?" Peter's voice cut through the noise. You press your hands to your ears, trying to block out the noise, to soften his words. You turn around to face Peter's stomach, try to hide in his hold. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" His hands reached for yours, helped cover your ears. You looked up through blurry vision, meeting his loving and concerned gaze. Peter tilted his head slightly, searched your eyes for a response to his question. You shook your head slowly in reply, let out a quiet whine as you burrowed yourself closer to him.

Something in his eyes clicks in realisation. He held out a hand to his friends to get them to stop talking; helping you stand up with a hand on your wrist, gently moving you to a quieter room. Peter shut the door behind the two of you, sat you down on the soft comforter. You mumbled something incoherent, struggled to get your sweater off, the tightness suffocating you, making it hard to breathe.

Peter's eyes soften as he reaches for the hem of your sweater, helping you pull it off your head. He squeezes your hand before moving towards the closet, grabbing your comfiest pyjamas as helping you slip in to them with two hands on your shoulders. He doesn't speak until then, knowing you needed to feel comfortable and snug before you would be able to fully converse.

He settled you on the bed, covers not on because he knew you were feeling hot. "Can I get you anything? Your fidget toy? Or your stuffed animal?"

His voice was soft, only a murmur, and you nodded gratefully. "Both, please?" You asked quietly.

Peter presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and untangles himself from you, nodding quickly. "Of course, bug." He returns in under a minute, giving you the two items and watching as you settle down with them. "Do you want me here, or should I go?" He touches your leg soothingly, rubbing a hand up and down.

"Here," I mumble, "please?" Peter melts a little, feels his heart squeeze. He climbs onto the bed behind you, careful not to touch or jostle you too much. When he remains quiet, you add, "Can I have a hug?"

He softens. "Absolutely, honey." Peter doesn't wait another second before wrapping you up in his arms, bringing you closer to his chest. He thumbs at your neck affectionately as you curl up in his hold, wanting to be as close to him as possible. "My poor, sweet girl," he murmurs softly. "You're doing so good. Are you feeling a bit better?"

"Mhm, yes," I say quietly, "thank you." You give him your best, most grateful smile. "Y' the best, baby."

Peter rolls his eyes affectionately against the crown of your head. "Says you, lovely girl."

[serickswrites]

i have a specific idea that i really want someone to write 🙏

whumpee and caretaker are in a relationship, childhood friends to lovers kind of thing. whumpee is autistic, and obviously caretaker knows everything there is to know about it because they’ve grown up with whumpee.

whumpee gets taken by whumper, and during their time there, whumper takes advantage of whumpee’s specific sensitivities, i.e. touch, unfamiliar environments, itchy clothing, inability to understand micro-expressions.

whumpee gets rescued, and they only let caretaker near them, as caretaker is the only person whumpee can trust. everyone else might want to hurt them. they no longer trust their ability to recognise good intentions from bad intentions, and that terrifies them.

Hey, Anon! Thank you for the prompt. I am going to do my best to capture what you are asking. I have a lot of neurodivergent people in my life, but I can only hope but to capture a little bit of their experience as a neurotypical person. I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced manipulation, white torture, sensory overload, rescue, PTSD, anxiety, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Everything was too loud and too quiet at the same time. Whumpee could feel everything. They could feel the normally soft blanket covering their legs, though now they could feel each thread. Could feel the fibers scrape across their skin. They could feel the soft, feathered pillow beneath their head. Could smell each feather. Whumpee felt nauseous. But worst of all, Whumpee could feel their bones. This was not good.

They didn't want to draw attention to their panic. Didn't want to alert the nurses that something was wrong. Whumpee logically knew the nurses were there to help them. But they couldn't be sure. They struggled on a good day to read faces, to understand tone. Today was not a good day.

Caretaker. They wanted Caretaker. They needed Caretaker. Caretaker was the only person they could trust. Where was Caretaker?

For a brief moment, Whumpee wondered if they had dreamed up their rescue. If they had dreamed up being taken to the hospital. That they were still with Whumper.

Whumper.

Whumper was the worst person in existence. They took advantage of Whumpee's inability to read cues. They had taken Whumpee and promised they wouldn't hurt Whumpee if Whumpee could tell them how they were feeling.

Each day, Whumper would sit and talk with Whumpee. Each day they would quiz Whumpee. Each day they would prompt Whumpee to make a guess. Promising that they would never hurt Whumpee because they just wanted to help Whumpee learn.

Each day Whumpee guessed wrong. Whether it was because they were in a new, unfamiliar place and was more anxious than normal, or because Whumper had given them the most uncomfortable clothes, Whumpee could not guess right. They couldn't read Whumper's face. Whumper's tone of voice.

"It is so obvious, Whumpee," Whumper said exposing all of their teeth, their eyes pulled tight, "you can do it. I won't hurt you if you do."

And yet Whumper hurt them. Hurt them for days. The worst was when they plugged Whumpee's ears with something painful and scratchy, covered Whumpee's eyes with something too cold and smooth, and stuffed Whumpee's mouth with the most foul tasting fabric. Whumpee was left in sensory agony for who knew how long. It was torture.

Whumpee could feel their heart pounding in their chest. Could feel their breath becoming more and more shallow. This wasn't real. This was new torture. They had never escaped.

A warm, gently finger caressed their palm. Whumpee's eyes shot open. Caretaker. Caretaker was there.

"I won't touch you, love," Caretaker murmured gently, "I only wanted you to know I'm right here."

Whumpee began to cry. It was all too much. They couldn't even speak. It was too loud. Everything hurt.

"I'm going to have them turn on the shower, Whumpee. We'll stay in there as long as you need. Let's get these itchy clothes off. I got an order to bring your blanket and clothing from home. We'll shower as long as you need and then get you more comfortable."

Whumpee nodded, still not speak. Caretaker was the only person who knew them. Who understood them. Who loved them. Whumpee could only trust Caretaker. Caretaker would help them. Caretaker always helped them. Whumpee hated that they were such a mess right now. Hated that they couldn't regulate themself. Hated that Whumper had used their sensitivities against them. Had hurt them so terribly. Whumpee sobbed harder.

"I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you." Caretaker's voice was quiet and smooth. Caretaker was there. Caretaker had them. They were safe. They trusted Caretaker and only Caretaker. Caretaker loved them. "I've got you, love. It's ok. It's ok."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[titan-god-helios]

aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA bad bad bad badbadbadbadbad very bad why do people feel the need to touch you unexpectedly why do sounds exist why do textures exist why is the world so bright i wish i could put a dimmer on my eyes whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy this is bad veryvery bad and on top of that GUESS WHO HAS WORK TO DO FUCKING SKENSKDBAKDBWJDBQKSBAJBDUWBD

[beep-beep-robin]

quinni gallagher-jones + common autism traits

had to make gifs of her again, and felt the need to make a list (does anyone get that feeling?) - so, i combined both and more gifs are incoming soon-ish <3

[amethyst-marshmallow]

OVERLOAD

i tried to capture the intensity of the moment... did i do good? :P

[jocollins]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Talia Hale, Derek Hale & Laura Hale Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale, Talia Hale Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Good Sibling Laura Hale, Good Pack Alpha Laura Hale, Loss of Parent(s), Autism Spectrum, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Autistic Derek Hale, Coping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Survivor Guilt, Overwhelmed Derek Hale, Sensory Overload, Derek Hale has sensory issues, Derek Hale Has Panic Attacks, Anchors, Anchor Stiles Stilinski, Falling In Love, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending Summary:

There's comfort in scents, especially for a born wolf. After losing that comfort, Derek never thought of ever finding it again.

[statesys]

; eating isn't difficult except for when you're suddenly 11 and sitting at the table trying not to cry because the food in your mouth has the most horrible texture, the lights are horribly loud and everyone's chewing is horribly painful and you feel so bad because you never eat full meals and you feel so guilty, someone cooked this for you and you think it's disgusting ?? and your throat constricts weirdly and swallowing is hard but you don't want to say that because you're already weird and cause so much stress for others, adding to that list won't help anyone so you won't tell anyone about this until you're 14 and keep choking on your food because it's gotten worse recently and a doctor asks about it and your mother accuses you and yells asking why you never mentioned this but this is the exact reason why. but you won't tell anyone because you don't want to be any weirder and more difficult, you're already a burden as is. from the day you were born from now on everyone has made it very clear you're strange. but it's okay because eating isn't difficult

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Signs of Sensory Overload

Feeling a wave of fatigue come over you

Feeling wound up and stimming

A sense of panic or desire to escape

Urge to block incoming sensory signals (cover eye or ears)

Extreme irritability

Restlessness and discomfort

neurodivergent_insights

Sensory Overload

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

kenjaku and shoko are the best jjk blorbos to have with you during your period btw . (bear with me for a second the great bloodletting just began and i’m in desperate need of comfort) like. they’re the Best. shoko is self-explanatory but i’m also convinced kenny knows your cycle by heart (they’re scarily observant + they’ve literally Been a woman before) and can tell you exactly how bad it’s going to be several days before. kenny is the period tracker blorbo. shoko is just very competent and sweet and really good at making the pain go away. i’ll give points to choso too because he would be intensely caring and protective + might be able to use blood manipulation to lighten your flow…

then we have suguru who’s always the best option but he doesn’t let you eat sweets because they’ll make your cramps worse so who needs him 🙏🙏

[anewkindofme]

13 for the micro story? I'm not terribly picky as to the fandom/character/etc, I love your writing ^_^

Thank you for sending this in!

TW: Sensory overload

Send me a number & I'll write a micro story.

13. Too loud

Mark never thought he’d be that parent. The one with the child who screamed so loud in public, it elicited stares from other people. But he also thought, if for some forsaken reason it ever happened to him, he’d feel embarrassed.

Now, he’s the one glaring at the onlookers as he cuddles Jackson as close as possible on the crowded subway. Addison fishes the noise-cancelling headphones out of the diaper bag and slides them over her son’s ears.

“There you go, Bug,” she soothes.

Mark rubs circles on his back. “I know Ducky, I know. It’s too loud.” Jackson buries his damp face in his neck. Mark glances over at Addison. “We never should’ve taken this thing. There’s no way to get off.

“The next stop is in a few minutes. We can catch a cab to take us the rest of the way.”

“This trip was a bad idea,” Mark mutters as Jackson’s screams turn into muffled sobs. “It’s too loud out here. There’s too much going on. He’s off-routine. Why did I think it was a good idea?”

“You wanted to see Carolyn for her birthday.”

“Yeah, well, next year…I’m sending a card.”

[gorgeousgreymatter-x]

CW: contains non-graphic smut, allusions to Steve’s sensory issues/PTSD. Also, this headcanon is based off personal experience, so I don’t wanna hear “UMM ACCCTUALLY THAT’S NOT WHAT X IS LIKE BECAUSE I —” blah blah I don’t fucking care lol

It hadn’t taken long for Eddie to realize it, how sensitive Steve is. See how easy it is for him to get overwhelmed — a mix of head trauma and a hefty dose of PTSD, and it’s not like Eddie can be surprised. How sometimes the lights get too bright or sounds get too loud. Sometimes even Eddie touching him gets to be too much, and Steve ends up flinching away from the tidal wave of sensation and stimuli threatening to drown him.

But not always. Sometimes, Eddie’s hands on him, it feels like that’s exactly what Steve needs. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t terrify Eddie a little when Steve comes to him when he’s like that, when Steve feels like spun glass, so fragile under his palms that the slightest bit of pressure might break him. Shatter him to pieces.

Sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what Steve wants.

The first time they have sex, after, when Eddie’s got Steve pulled in close against his chest, both of them still catching their breath, Steve…he shakes. Trembles in Eddie’s arms for what feels like an eternity, even though it’s probably only a minute or two. And up until then, Eddie’d been operating under the assumption that, you know, things had gone pretty well.

So naturally Eddie had panicked a little and assumed the worst – that he had fucked up, done something wrong, hurt Steve, somehow managed to blow up whatever this was between them before it ever really got the chance to start. But Steve had only sniffled and shaken his head at Eddie’s slightly frantic, more than frazzled, "Stevie. Baby…you okay?"

"I'm – it's okay. It's nothing bad. You just – s'a lot, Eds," Steve had whispered finally, hiding his soft smile like a secret pressed into Eddie's scarred chest. "You make me feel…a lot."

Eddie would have liked to say he'd understood at the time, but he hadn't. Not yet. Not quite. "A good a lot?" he'd asked, worrying nervously at his lip with his teeth.

"Definitely good."

Eddie worries less about it after that, the more he learns to read Steve, the more intimately familiar he becomes with his reactions. The different noises Steve makes when Eddie touches him a certain way. Touches him there, kisses him here. Counts the freckles on Steve's lower back with his tongue. How dark Steve's eyes look as he gazes up at Eddie when he's all needy and desperate and fucked out enough that he's as liquid as the melted ice cream Eddie’d sucked off Steve's upper lip on the hottest night of the summer just weeks ago. 

"Thought maybe it would get better, you know…easier," Eddie murmurs one night, running soothing fingertips up and down the ladder of Steve’s spine while Steve clings to him. Because maybe some part of him had kind of figured Steve would just get used to it. Like exposure therapy or some shit, but it happens like this still most times. Steve shivering like some frightened little animal, his fingernails hooked like anchors into Eddie's wrist like he and it are the only port in the storm.

Only he can see Steve's flushed cheeks, his drunken, dreamy-eyed expression. Knows without a doubt he's the farthest from frightened he can be. "I don't know…thought so too. But I think…I think it's because each time —" Steve starts before trailing off, sheepish. " — still feels like the first time."

Eddie thinks, pressing a wolfish (if not a little bit preening) grin into the back of Steve's neck, maybe he gets it now.

He finds doesn't really need to ask after that.