#sorry i meant to write “in a way differing from typical autism and instead is an extension of his personality”

[goemon-fan]

"He should be at the-"

[the-resurrection-3d]

(@maskwasii​ wanted me to post this despite, ironically, it all being shit I’ve told him before. Regardless.)

Something that I’ve been thinking about for awhile and might as well post while I’m waiting for the sleeping pills to kick in:

It really feels like the great irony of shipping drama is that it pushes out the people who would take this shit seriously. By “this” I mean darkfic topics like rape, incest, pedophilia, and so on. Because let’s be real with ourselves: regardless of your opinion on “dead dove” content, the majority of people who make that content don’t fucking care what you have to say. Nothing you can say is new to them, most of them are perfectly comfortable with remaking twice, thrice, even 5+ times after being mass-reported, and as far as ao3 goes, that site’s rules are intentionally designed to make removing someone else’s work as hard as possible.

A lot of people say they’re just against “romanticizing”/ “fetishizing” that type of content, which is fine on its surface, but there really isn’t any consistent metric for what “romanticizing” actually means outside of just pointing at shameless porn and going “don’t do that.” I remember once scrolling through an anti’s blog, seeing a typical post about how they’re only against romanticization, and then ~two posts down was a callout for someone for having edgy OCs. No context whatsoever into the actual story’s lore or how the author seems to want said OCs to be viewed-- the OCs themselves are bad people/have bad kinks, therefore this blogger must be shunned and publicly shamed. Again: hate stuff like rape/non-con kink all you want, but let’s imagine, for a moment, that Alberto had a genuine rape kink in “the grammar of violence” series instead of intrusive thoughts -- that type of presentation, where we’re meant to feel sorry for Alberto due to his urges (”””urges”””), is in a completely different universe from how I handle the same urges in Nick. 

When a work does not have an obvious sexual element, they stumble. The best example of this is how they’ll insist that murder can’t be romanticized, even though many books, shows, and films not only justify but aestheticize their protagonists' murders, fully intending for us as consumers to derive some amount of pleasure from watching the protagonists kill people (often in very drawn-out, spectacular ways).

It’s thus undeniable that many antis, knowingly or not, conflate “having X in your content” with “romanticizing X” -- take that one popular post that’s just a bunch of screenshots of the number of works tagged with “underage” on ao3 and decrying all of it as “child porn.” If you’ve ever earnestly written about csa trauma and tagged your fic with “underage” and/or “explicit” to try and keep your readers safe, no you didn’t, you’ve written CP. 

Why would anyone bother trying to write a serious story under these conditions? 

I know I joke a lot about how trying to put actual effort into your fanfics is a waste of time (except it’s not a joke because it’s true and I’m only here because I’m Asterion trapped in the labyrinth of my own autism), but seriously. Even showing support for these creators leaves many people feeling at risk, which removes pretty much the only thing fanfic is good for, aka that community element. 

I’ve mentioned this before here and there, but I’ve had multiple people come to me asking for help on their stories because they wanted to avoid “romanticizing” something fucked up, and every time, they have only a vague idea of what that would actually mean. I’m not trying to shit on them for this, because it’s not their fault, but these are the writers I’m talking about -- they have anxiety over the hypothetical backlash they could receive before the act of writing has even begun. 

Anxiety in art can be productive, such as when it motivates a creator to research experiences or cultures they don’t have firsthand experience with, but how can someone do that research when the guidelines don’t exist? “Don’t write porn.” Okay.... but I’ve seen fan-art of Luca doing stretches called “horny.” (Yet also somehow cartoon Beetlejuice calling a 13-year-old girl “babes” and getting jealous when she pays attention to other guys is just him “acting like an uncle.”) Furthermore, sometimes the only way to handle your trauma is to write through it, in all the gorey details. Sometimes that means writing a graphic rape scene, writing an unhappy ending, or writing “trauma porn” (keeping in mind, of course, that I’ve seen people’s fucking memoirs called trauma porn solely because they didn’t bend over backwards to make the reader feel comfortable).

Fandoms are just so fucking vile not only to survivors, but to people who want to earnestly and respectfully explore topics relevant to those survivors. The kinksters don’t care, as we’ve already established, and the people who don’t do any research or put in any thought at all will also continue just spewing their bullshit, because they lack the self-awareness to even realize that they’re doing so. I know a lot of dead dove creators are also survivors and are using their shit to cope, so don’t get me wrong, I don’t think their content is an issue in and of itself-- but again, let’s be real, most of them know that their content isn’t saying anything meaningful about trauma or the systems that enable it, nor are they trying to. The coping, that exploration, is within the process and not the product.

But some survivors need it to be in the product. Some survivors are unable to make art, or are not yet ready to make art about their trauma, but would benefit from consuming others’. So, while I don’t think having kinky dead dove art is an inherent issue, it's an issue when that type of content ends up dominating the creative marketplace, because as much as the creators themselves are soothed by it, a lot of other survivors are alienated. Both of these responses are valid. But I just think it’s a meme and half how, given everything I’ve seen, antis seem to be doing the most damage towards the kinds of content they always say they’ve made an exception for. 

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

STRENGTH, COURAGE, AND PATIENCE

Request by Anonymous: Hello! I saw fanfic where the reader had autism and I just wanted to ask, could t you do a fanfic where you and Bucky have a son with very bad autism and you have to deal with it, like when Bucky is out on missions how you head with it alone and just something really fluffy? I'd really appreciate it thank you! ( by the way I say bitchy-tacos post about you two being a two for one deal and you guys totally are, bitchy-tacos is like that snarky mean friends and your the cute and collected) 😘

A/N: First off: adorable fic idea, that you for the request (and sorry it took forever and a half to write) second: thank you for the good laugh!  Third: I tried REALLY hard not to offend anyone!  If there is something accidentally offensive in this fic, please let me know so I can fix it!

Dad!Bucky x reader

Word count:

Summary: You and Bucky LOVE your son!  Autism and all!  But, can you take care of him all by yourself without blowing a fuse while Bucky’s out on a mission?

Warnings: swearing,  mention of meltdowns, Autism?  Idk if that’s really a warning

(GIF not mine)

Your family was not a typical one.  Your husband, Bucky, is a hundred-year-old retired assassin and you’re a highly trained agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.  Even the circumstances under which you met were weird!  Who knew you could meet someone at a bomb-diffusing class and end up marrying them?  The most normal one in your family was your and Bucky’s son, Noah.

Noah was not a typical child.  Noah had Autism.  Now, that didn’t mean he was weird, it just meant he was different.  You and Bucky love that little kid to death!

When Noah was diagnosed with Autism, Bucky wanted to make sure he was completely comfortable in your apartment.  He got special lights so they weren’t as bright, he got weighted blankets and stuffed animals for Noah, he got some touch-and-feel books for him, noise canceling headphones, and even got special window covers for Noah’s bedroom.  

Once Noah turned three, you enrolled him into one of the best special education schools you could possibly find.  Eventually, Noah’s seventh birthday rolled around and you got him a therapy/service dog.  Noah loved his fuzzy, Labrador friend!  Noah affectionately named him ‘Buddy’.

You, Bucky, and Buddy made a great team when it came to taking care of Noah and making sure he was happy and healthy.  Buddy was always home to give Noah some consistency, and when you and Bucky weren't unavailable to take care of Noah because of missions or training, Natasha and Wanda would take care of him.  Overall, it was a great tag-team system.  Noah was always with at least two adults.  Well… that was until this morning…

“A month?!” you gasped, trying not to yell and scare Noah, who was playing in the other room, “Oh please tell me either Nat or Wanda is staying here…”.  Bucky just looked at you with an apologetic smile.  “James...” you groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

“It’s only for a few weeks!  B-but Tony and Clint will still be here…”

“James… do you really trust those two to take care of our child?”.  Bucky didn’t answer.  “I didn’t think so,”.

“But (Y/N), I can’t stay here!  Almost the entire team has to go undercover in Europe-”

“Wait, so you’re not even going to be able to contact us?!”

“W-well… I’m not being completely cut off-” you interrupted him.

“James, I love Noah with all my heart and soul, and you know I would do anything for him, but I don’t know if I can do this by myself!” you cried, trying not to sound whiney as you got up and paced around the kitchen.  Biting your lip, you turned to him again.  “James I’m not a good enough parent to do this by myself, I can’t take care of Noah properly without someone else here!  What if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen, you know how to take care of him and you know damn well you’re strong enough to do this yourself,” he retorted.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Bucky took your hands in his.  “(Y/N), you are a good parent, that’s why I know you and Noah will be fine,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“Oh… alright… but after thirty days is up, your sorry ass better be home!”

You were not ready for this in the slightest.  And apparently, neither was Noah.  Bucky leaving was such a huge, sudden change, Noah lost it.  He was crying and calling for his dad to come back and not leave.  It got so bad he started shaking and making nonsense noises.  You felt so bad for the little guy.  Luckily, after a few days, Noah calmed down and wasn’t so melancholy about his dad leaving.

After about a week, you were able to get a good schedule going.  At seven AM, you’d get Noah up, dressed and fed.  Then you'd walk Buddy with him and get Noah to school by eight.  After that, you'd have get to work by eight thirty and get as much done as humanly possible.  At three,  you'd pick Noah up from school and take him to therapy appointment at three thirty.  While he was there, you'd pick up groceries and/or laundry then pick up Noah at five.  You'd get home by six, fix dinner, help Noah with homework, put him to bed by nine, then get more work done.  And if you were lucky, you'd be in bed around one in the morning.  Needless to say, you were tired 24/7.

By the third week of this hectic schedule, you were ready to swallow your pride and hesitation and ask Tony and Clint for help.

You walked Noah down the halls of Stark Tower, letting him go his own pace and look at all the stuff he found interesting.  It was pretty funny, actually.  His father was the Winter Soldier, his uncle/godfather was Captain America, his godmother was Natasha but he was absolutely obsessed with Iron Man and his "radical", as Noah put it, inventions.

Noah carried around his little-stuffed giraffe as he wore his headphones and watched one of Tony’s machines from behind the plexiglass wall.  “What’s that one doing mommy?” he asked, pointing to the assembly line contraption.

“That one is painting the cyborg armor, see the colored paint it’s spraying?” he answered, picking him up and showing him how the metal was being covered in red paint.

“(Y/N)?” Tony called from behind you, making you jump.

“Oh, Tony, it’s you,” you breathed a sigh of relief, setting Noah back on the floor and taking his hand.  “Tony I need your help, I can’t keep up with Noah’s schedule alone,” you continued, trying not to cry out of frustration and embarrassment, “I’m tired, I’m frustrated, I feel like my brain is oozing out of my ears… I can’t do this…”.

Tony gave a hum in acknowledgment as he lead you to a little office where you and Noah could sit down.  “If you want, I could give you the rest of the week off, just until Buck gets back home,” he offered, handing Noah a sucker from the candy bowl on the desk, “and, if you’d like, I can send over another Agent to help you, one that specializes in child care and rescue,”.

“Would you?  That would be so helpful!” you sighed, shaking his hand, “that’s very much appreciated,”.  You were so happy!  Not only would your schedule be a little looser, but Clint and Tony would not be the ones taking care of your child.

Once work was off your schedule, it was a lot easier to juggle your daily to-do list.  It was still hectic, but at least you got more sleep.  The agent Tony sent over, Jo, was an amazing guy!  Noah was a bit wary of him at first since he was a new person.  But Jo was so patient and kind, he was a big help!  As a thank you for all his help, you cooked him a nice dinner at the end of the week.  Noah even made a drawing for him.

   It was Friday night and Jo had just left to go home after post-dinner coffee.  Noah was showing signs of tiredness, so you got him and Buddy ready for bed.  You kissed him on the forehead, gave Buddy a few pats on the head, and left to go finish up some paperwork in the bedroom.

A few minutes into your work, you felt familiar, strong arms wrap around your shoulders.  “Hey doll,” Bucky whispered, kissing your neck softly.  With a big smile, you got up and turned around to hug him tightly.

“Hey baby, welcome home,” you greeted, kissing his cheek, “you hungry?  I’ve still got some stew on the stove,”

“No, I’m okay, but thank you,” he smiled, setting his duffle bag down by the dresser, “who was that guy I saw leaving the apartment?”

That may have seemed a little suspicious, but you knew Bucky trusted you.  “Oh, that was Jo, he’s been helping me take care of Noah these past few days,” you answered, sitting down on the bed and stretching out a bit.

“Oh yeah!  He came on one of our missions a couple months ago,” he remembered, taking off his shoes then sitting down with you.

   “James… does it make me a bad mother that I had to ask for help to take care of my own son?” you asked abruptly.

   Bucky’s eyes went wide as he looked at you.  You?  A bad mother?  Only in some bizarro alternate universe would that make sense.  “What?  No no no no!” he tutted, wrapping you in his arms, “not at all, sweetheart!”

   “Then how come I feel so bad?” you whimpered, shedding a few tears.

   Bucky saw how guilty you felt, and he didn’t like the sight of it.  “(Y/N), look at me,” he instructed, turning your face so he could look you in the eye, “it takes a lot, and I mean A LOT, of energy to be a parent, especially with a child who has special needs.  You tried your best to take care of him on your own, and when you couldn’t, you asked for help.  Instead of keeping your ego and putting you and your child at risk, you asked for help so our son would be well taken care of.  You were thinking of your son and putting him first, that's what good mothers do,”

You gave a small smile at his words.  You hadn’t thought of it that way.

“Both you and Noah have an abundance of strength, courage, and patience, and I couldn’t be more proud of you,”.

A/N: alright, hopefully I didn’t completely screw this up

TAGLIST:

@paranoid-borderline-insane @buckyshattergirl @bitchy-tacos

[berserkhamster]

Stimulus

Based on an unanswered prompt from @imaginetonyandbucky

"Can someone write something about how Bucky has an issue with squeezing things when he gets upset/worried/etc, and Tony ends up giving him play-dough as a joke, but it ends up really helping him because it gives him something to mess with?"

Read it on AO3 Stimulus by PrinecofBadassery

Tags: pre winterirontony stark cares a lotbucky barnes needs hugMental IllnessStimmingAutism SpectrumAnxiety Disordertony stark is a god damn geniusTumblr: imaginetonyandbuckycan I use this tag?it's based on a promptdid I mention that Tony care a lot?like a lot            

At this point Tony was considering not replacing the couch table in the living room at all. It would seriously throw the whole design concept of the room but so did a glass table splintered into a thousand pieces because a certain someone couldn't keep his super strength under control. He had already replaced the table three times, after the second time it had been broken he had ordered the splinter-proof glass because getting glass shards out of the thick carpet was a nightmare and took forever. Tony had people for that but it had been considerably easier to just throw the whole table out when the glass top was shattered but still in one piece thanks to the foil keeping it together. Tony had even called the company who made the tables and asked if they could use bullet proof glass instead. They couldn't.

Now he was standing in the living room looking at the mess that once again had been created. Clint had his feet up on said mess, not minding the cracked surface and was reading a comic about himself dressed completely in purple. Odd, Tony thought for a moment before shaking his head. His eyes focused on the fist sized junk that was missing from one side of the table, like someone had taken a huge bite out of it. Someone on the TV laughed loudly, Tony didn't think it was funny.

"They really got my love for coffee down." Clint mumbled from the couch. Tony rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, turned on his heel and headed towards the suspects living quarters. There was only one person who could be responsible for breaking yet another table, along with the dozens of glasses and cups, several door frames and uncountable pieces of cutlery.

(mind the cut)

James Buchanan Barnes had been at the Avengers tower for 2 months and 23 days now and - as Tony found out three days into his stay - he had a tendency to break stuff. Tony hadn't been thrilled that the Winter Soldier was to stay in his tower, it had been one of the conditions of SHIELD - what was left of it anyway - for Barnes to regain some form of freedom. He wasn't allowed out of the tower either, at least not at this moment in time. No weapons, surveillance 24/7 those kind of things.

Tony had even been appointed his legal guardian, Steve being too emotionally invested in the case, and Tony being somewhat of second in charge of the Avengers. Steve had ruined three punching bags after that particular SHIELD meeting, but at least he got to take his friend home, whatever that meant.

Barnes was a quiet guy, skittish and broody. Always had that look on his face. There was the saying that someone looked like they had just seen a ghost, but Tony felt Barnes was the ghost in that situation, not wanting to be seen but spotted anyway and having no idea how to handle that. Clint liked him, probably the whole brainwashing thing. Steve was a mother hen and Tony felt sorry for Barnes when the Captain hovered around him and he looked around with pleading eyes for someone to get Steve away from him.

If one could trust the SHIELD reports Barnes had actually come a long way after the Washington incident. He was feeding himself, talked to people if prompted, could take care of his own hygiene, even attended social gathering like movie nights and meals sometimes. Even if he stood out like a sore thumb every time.

All in all Tony wasn't too bothered to have him around, if he let him take a look at his arm he might even start to like the guy, but the whole breaking stuff all the god damn time was getting a problem and Tony needed to address it.

Barnes' apartment was actually just a room. The other Avenger's had their own floors, even if they only used part of it, but Barnes had been put in a spare room that connected to Steve's apartment. Steve had insisted on sharing an apartment with him and Barnes had shrugged his shoulders. Tony had a wall torn down and a second door installed so now Barnes' could come and go as he pleased without having to go through Steve's whole floor.

It was that door that Tony now stood in front, Jarvis had told him Barnes' had been in here since he broke the table in the common area. He gave Barnes the courtesy of knocking and waiting a couple of seconds before opening the door, just in case the guy was naked and wanted to cover himself.

Barnes wasn't naked though, quite the opposite, he was dressed in his usual baggy hoddie and sweatpants. Clothes that did absolutely nothing to show off his figure. At least Steve had the decency to wear shirts one size too small, so Tony could look at the bulging barely contained muscles.

He was sitting on the bed and hadn't noticed Tony yet - didn't acknowledge Tony yet - because Tony was certain the guy with super hearing had noticed him the moment he stepped out of the elevator.

But Barnes had his eyes closed and was holding onto a pillow like his life depended on it, rhythmically squeezing one corner of it while rocking his whole body back and forth. He was also humming.

Tony was stunned for a moment.

"Are you alright?" He asked after another

Barnes jumped and scrambled back on the bed, looking at Tony with wide eyes, he obviously hadn't noticed Tony after all.

"I'm sorry about the table." He said, clutching the pillow to his chest. Tony feared it would soon suffer the same fate as the table the way the fabric strained and Barnes wasn't even using his metal hand. In fact his metal arm was almost hidden under the pillow. He looked so afraid, huddled at the far end of the bed and holding perfectly still, though, after Tony took a closer look he could see that Barnes was almost vibrating from how tense he held his body.  

Tony felt like he had just interrupted something important. He had seen similar behaviour before, people doing repetitive motions and zoning out from the world around them. It had been at a charity event for an organization helping disabled children. A girl at the venue had done almost the exact same thing, rocking her body back and forth, she had a toy that made jingly noises. Her mother explained to him that she was doing this to calm herself down when she was overstimulated. Tony later learned that the girl had autism.

That made him think. Tony was certain Barnes didn't go around breaking things on purpose, so far he had assumed the guy was just clumsy and couldn't gauge his strength properly, but if it was a stress response then there was no point in yelling at him. Barnes looked like a scared animal right now, cornered and fearing for his life judging by the way he looked at Tony, no, Barnes didn't even look at him, his eyes were focused somewhere to the right of Tony.

The whole speech Tony had prepared about being careful with other people's properties died in his throat.

"Don't worry about it." He said instead. "Just.. be careful. Don't hurt yourself."

Tony left Barnes' room feeling downcast. He hadn't realized that Barnes might not be doing as good as he thought. Steve had never said anything and he was the one who spent the most time with Barnes, yet Tony felt responsible. The guy was living in his tower after all, he was the legal guardian, albeit only on paper, Barnes was his responsibility.

The lab came alive when Tony stepped inside and he went to work immediately. There was a problem that needed a solution and he was the best person for the job. First he brought up surveillance footage of Barnes in all the situations he was breaking things. Tony tried to find a pattern, a trigger, a common denominator. Without any exception there were always one or more people with him when it happened, the situations differed but one thing stayed consistent in every incident. There was always a lot of noise and Barnes' always had that far-away look on his face the moment it happened and most of the time he needed a couple of tries before something broke in his hands, like he was squeezing the fork or cup several times and once it broke he looked surprised himself. He always left, fleeing the scene after that.

It was all Tony needed to know. It was a response to the stress in his environment, Barnes needed something to calm himself, something to hold onto.

He brought up articles about autism and anything related to it, he knew very little about the subject and that was a good place to start his research.  There was the possibility that Barnes was neurodivergent, the thought had crossed Tony's mind, and he had just not been diagnosed back in the 40s or now with all the therapists he had been seeing in this day and age. An anxiety disorder was also very likely and maybe had been overlooked by the doctors, who blamed Barnes' brainwashing for his behaviour. Tony had no authority on that but what he knew was that Barnes had suffered a hell of a lot of brain damage over the last 70 years and whether he was born with his brain wired differently or if HYDRA had fucked it up that didn't matter to Tony. The problem stayed the same: The guy needed a coping mechanism for sensory overloads that worked and didn't ruin Tony's fortune one couch table at the time.

"Stimming" was what everything pointed to. A repetitive body movement that self-stimulates one or more senses in a regulated manner, according to the definition on the Autism Wiki. It helped to counteract the stimulations from other sensations, loud noises, touches, negative feelings. In general stimming was a typical human behaviour, it was just more pronounced in people with autism or anxiety disorders. Even as Tony read the articles he noticed how he played around with the pencil and tapped it onto the desk rhythmically. Barnes had been doing nothing else before Tony had interrupted him.

Tony pulled up every site that sold stimming and stress relieving toys that he could find, then bought every toy that could be squeezed and didn't make a sound. He was surprised to find sites that had hand crafted toys made by autistic people for autistic people, he didn't buy those for himself, instead he put in a large order to be donated to organizations helping neurodivergent people. Tony didn't want to put carefully hand made toys through the series of tests and possibly destroy them in the process just to see if they could keep up with Barnes' super strength.

And so he got to work, new toys were delivered every day and Tony put them to the test. His lab was soon littered with colorful balls and the remains of their fallen comrades. Compression stress was the most important if Barnes' main stim was squeezing something but Tony tested tensile stress and shear stress just for good measure and one after another the toys exploded or ripped in the testing machines. After a week he was no further than before and he dug around in the piles of machines for his chemical analyzers while Dum-E discarded the last evidence of the destruction that had occurred in the lab.

If nothing commercially produced met his high standards then he would have to come up with something himself. Creating a polymer that was soft and squishy but at the same time able to withstand a lot of stress was no easy task, but then again, he had created a new element with a particle accelerator made from scraps, what was a macromolecule compared to that.

Tony needed a week.

It would have been faster but Doom had decided to throw a party in Central Park and the doombot guests had to be entertained for a couple of hours and the resulting clean up had taken twice as long.

Now Tony was sitting in his lab working on an armor piece, a couple of tables over there was an innocent looking red ball the size of an orange. He had instructed Jarvis to notify Barnes to come to the lab. The AI had told him he was on his way. That had been 20 minutes ago.

Tony was about to send out a search party in case Barnes got lost in the tower when the man finally appeared at the door, looking more than a little anxious and thoroughly disheveled.

"You wanted to see me? I didn't break anything." He said, not looking at Tony, his gaze was flickering across the lab. He held his body rigid, holding onto his left arm with his right hand. Even from across the lab Tony could see the strain with which he held his body.

"That's not want I wanted to speak to you about." Tony didn't put down his tools and instead casually continued his work.

"Is it about the arm?" Barnes asked and oh how Tony would love to get his hands on it, but so far this had been a no-go subject on Barnes' part.

"Only if you want me to." Tony said, glancing up with a smile, but Barnes wasn't looking at him.

"I don't."

"That's fine." Tony shrugged. "I actually need your help."

That got Barnes' attention and he turned to Tony, looking more than a little confused. "My help?"

"Yeah, see that ball over there?" Tony gestured to the table where the new toy was sitting. "I was working on a new material and I need see how it holds up under pressure, thought you could put your super strength to some use and test it a bit for me."

Barnes stepped closer, in that careful hesitant way of his, still tense like he was ready to bail at any moment.

"It's not gonna bite." Tony said and Barnes finally looked at him. A success in Tony's eyes even if it was just to give him his deadly death glare of death. Barnes was good at those. He picked up the ball though and that's what counted. Tony was almost vibrating in his seat with nervousness. Barnes was weighing the ball in his right hand but didn't really do anything else with it.

"How does it feel?" Tony asked, trying to sound nonchalant while he was almost exploding with excitement. His body betrayed him when his hand stabbed the screwdriver into the wiring and ruined two hours of fine tuning.

"It's...alright." Barnes didn't sound convinced.

"Try squeezing it."

"Why am I doing this? Why didn't you ask Steve?"

"Does Steve have a metal arm that can exert twice as much compression strength as a beefed up super soldier hand?" He asked pointedly. "Now squeeze it."

Barnes made a sour face then grumbled a "Fine." under his breath and started squeezing the toy.

The change wasn't instant, Tony noticed begrudgingly. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, that Barnes suddenly morphed into a carefree guy without a problem in the world because Tony gave him a ball to squeeze? But maybe there was a little bit less tension in the slope of Barnes' shoulders as he played around with the ball, first pressing dents into it with his fingers before giving it a more throughout squeeze.

Tony turned back to the armor piece he had been working on and left Barnes to play around with the new toy. He cursed when he saw what he had done to the wiring accidentally and started on repairing the damage. He soon got engulfed in his work and forgot Barnes was even in the lab with him until the other spoke again.

"Like this?"

Barnes was holding up the ball in his left hand, it didn't look much like a ball anymore. He had squished it so hard the red color had changed to light pink in some parts as the material bulged out between the metal fingers.

"Oh, yeah, just like that. Awesome, it works." Tony quickly said. He was impressed, he had designed the material to give more resistance the more force was exerted on it so it always had a nice grip to it, something firm to hold onto. Barnes must have squeezed really slowly to get it to that state.

"Good job." Tony gave him a thumbs up and turned back to his armor. The mission was a success in his eyes, Barnes had been introduce to his new stimming toy and it didn't break under the ultimate stress test. He mentally patted himself on the shoulder. He was a god damn genius.

He didn't feel like a god damn genius five minutes later when he noticed Barnes was still standing in the middle of the lab, the ball was on the table but he still had his fingertips on it, like he had just put it down but couldn't quite let go. He wondered how long the man had been standing there like that. There was a deep frown on Barnes' face, his gaze glued to the toy, confusion and longing both present. It occurred to Tony that he had never said Barnes could keep it. He was so used to other people just taking the stuff he made for them without a second thought that it had been natural for him to assume Barnes would just do the same.

Barnes wasn't like other people though, he had been kept imprisoned and used as a weapon for over 70 years, he had barely acted human when they had gotten to him after DC. According to SHIELD files he hadn't even eaten food placed in front of him in the very beginning.

"You can keep it." Tony said softly but Barnes jumped anyway, his body tensing up again. He looked up - the first eye contact with Tony even if it only lasted for a second before he looked at the toy again, then ever so slowly he wrapped his flesh hand around it and picked it up.

"Thanks." Barnes mumbled and Tony only had time to nod encouragingly before the other man was out of the lab and gone from view.

[scriptautistic]

Hi! I'd like to know if it would be possible for a character/their surrounding family/friends to not notice/suspect that they might be autistic until adulthood? (I start writing when she is around 20 and I want her to start questioning this about herself as part of her journey) Is this feasible? Is it actually possible someone could be autistic without picking up on it/others picking up on it until this age? And what sort of things could she pick up on/question now to give her the idea? Thanks!

Absolutely. No one suspected I was autistic until I was 24, even though I showed many very obvious autistic traits throughout my life. I did well in school and was obviously very intelligent, so no one considered something that they thought of as a disability for me. I was bullied for being weird, had no friends, and constantly punished for being rude and not having “common sense”. The assumption was, since I was intelligent, that I understood very well what I was doing wrong and it was therefore intentional. I was also always very androgynous and preferred boys’ clothes because they were looser - girls’ clothes were painful for me to wear. Instead of noting the sensory issue, I was just labeled a “tomboy” and told I needed to learn to be “more ladylike”. It is especially common for girls to not be diagnosed until adulthood, since we tend to have an easier time mimicking others and blending in, and may hide meltdowns, etc. 

One thing that is very common for girls is that another girl will take them under their wing during childhood or adolescence. Sometimes an allistic girl will see, for example, a socially awkward girl with no “fashion sense” and take it upon herself to teach her how to put on makeup, dress, talk to others, etc. This is far from universal (certainly didn’t happen to me), but common enough to mention. When this happens, it is often much less obvious to others that the girl is autistic.

Boys (and genderfluid and nonbinary people as well) can also “fly under the radar” until adulthood. It is very common. Many autistic people don’t realize they’re autistic until they learn about it later in life and realize it describes them. The public perception is that autistic people are very disabled, can’t communicate properly, or are extremely rude, and that makes them easy to identify, but that is far from always the case. It is also common for someone to be obviously autistic, but for others to try to excuse away the traits, because they see autism as such a tragic thing they want to avoid the word as much as possible. Such an example exists in my own family: my 6-year-old niece is obviously autistic and has shown EVERY obvious trait from the time she was 6 months old, but because at one point she got burned by a cup of tea that got knocked over, the doctors immediately said that she was simply traumatized and would return to “normal” eventually. She can speak now and goes to a normal school, so my sister insists that she is not autistic, even though she very obviously is.

As for what could bring up the idea of your character being autistic, I can only offer my own experience. At age 24 I moved to a different country and my boss/mentor where I was working noticed immediately that I had difficulty with social skills and odd body language. She had previous experience with autistic people. She started probing me with questions about having friends as a child, how I felt when people laughed at me, etc. She was the first person to see my social problems as something unintentional, even something I was unaware of, rather than something intentional, and decided to gently help me. She was the first person in my life to say the words “you talk too much”. When I thought I was being maliciously made fun of, she took the time to explain to me that they weren’t trying to hurt me, they were trying to bond with me playfully, and that it wasn’t intended to be taken literally. I told her I didn’t see any difference, and she offered to point out whenever she saw me taking things the wrong way, so I could slowly learn the difference. (I still have trouble with this but it’s better than it was). Then she started lending me books written by autistic people. I was astounded - they were describing ME. Finally, the idea entered my head that I could be autistic. It was upsetting at first, since I thought at the time that autism was a terrible disability. It meant that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be normal. I started doing research on my own, and the more I read, the more certain it was that this was me. I was autistic. I asked my mentor about it and she confirmed that she was certain I was autistic. Eventually I talked to a psychologist about it (one who specialized in autism) and it was officially confirmed. After that, it was a slow process of becoming an expert on it, learning how I was different and why, and discovering that it’s not a horrible disability at all. I now consider it simply a different but perfectly healthy type of brain which has always been a part of the human race, and without which we would not have the society we have today. 

I hope this is helpful. Your proposed character sounds very realistic to me. Good luck!

-Mod Aira

I agree with Aira, it is absolutely possible. In addition to what she said about reasons someone might not get diagnosed, I would like to add that even in the official diagnostic criteria of the DSM (which one may or may not agree with, but which is still a good point of reference), it is written “The onset of the symptoms is in the early developmental period (but deficits may not become fully manifest until social communication demands exceed limited capacities).” This means that while someone is born autistic, their neurodivergence may not be noticed as a child because their environment is “easy enough” that they don’t show obvious “"deficits”“ in social skills and communications and such, which is what people tend to look for when they’re wondering if someone may be autistic.

I would moreover like to add my own experience of someone who realized they were autistic in adulthood (well, more late adolescence) because I’ve been told it was a typical one.

While I’ve shown autistic traits for as long as I can remember, no one noticed because I did very well in school, had a few friends (all of which had been found for me by a handy adult) and was just considered “quirky”.

When I was about 13 social rules changed from that of childhood to that of adolescence. Friendships were formed more by affinity and design than by whoever was around at the time, and rules to maintain these friendships became more and more complex.

I started being very isolated, until when i was 15 my only friends were online friends who lived hundreds of miles away. That plus bullying and some family problems (also caused by miscommunication due to my being autistic and no one being aware of it) led me to a depression of which I’m just now beginning to get out of.

While I hid my mental health issue to my parents as long as I could, they finally caught on, and I began seeing a whole series of mental health professionals.

Now, this is the stage at which some people get diagnosed. The professionals I saw were not well educated about autism and failed to notice anything. They also failed to do anything useful for me, but that’s another story.

I ended up by pure chance making an online friend who was autistic and very open about it. After a while of getting to know each other, he told me he saw a lot of autistic traits in me. That’s the point when I started learning about it obsessively, eventually self-diagnosing.

I talked about it with the therapist I was seeing at the time, she agreed with me, told me to go see a specialist psychologist, who also said I was probably autistic. I’ve not yet undertaken an official, medical diagnosis, though it is a project of mine.

I’m sorry this got so lengthy, and I hope you can find anything useful buried in there.

-Mod Cat