#tw sensory overload

[sketchthetofu]

LETS GOOOO!!! 🎉🎉🎉

There is so much I want to say, though can’t find perfect words for… but I’ll try! First of all I am so happy I was able to create art for Frogman’s absolutely wonderful fic, which you should totally check out here!!! As well as be able to work with other amazing artists (one which also drew amazing art for this chapter, GO SEND SOME LOVE TO @relgnira !!!). I am SOOO glad I joined @hermitshippingbigbang , the people I have met there are ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL (go check out the other amazing fics) and really brought me out of my comfort zone which I 100% needed <3.

I think that’s all from me right now!! Hope you enjoy my first ever long comic I’ve drawn :D!

[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.

[minimujina]

ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ

a small piece of comfort from chongyun as reader experiences a meltdown of sorts. can be interpreted as sensory overload, autistic meltdown, panic attack, etc etc, and hopefully any similar situation you could use some comfort with.

“too loud…” you cried, slapping your palms over your ears. warm tears welled in your eyes and spilled in rivers down your cheeks—“it’s too loud.” your voice was so small, so quiet. so broken.

you felt yourself losing grip on your surroundings, the deafening noises muting as if you had left the room. but one thing was keeping you tethered to your body—chongyun’s touch.

it was the feeling of your back pressed firmly against his chest; his arms enveloping you; thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your wrists. it was only when you focused on those sensations that you were able to hear him whispering softly in your ear, voice strangled with worry: “it’s okay. i’ve got you. you’re okay.”

you were burning up and your palms were soaked from clawing at your tear-filled eyes, but still chongyun grasped at you desperately, ignoring the way his own insides were igniting. he just needed you back, needed you to come back from wherever you were right now and see that he was with you. he even didn’t know that he was the only thing keeping you awake at the moment as you experienced a sort of dissociation. you felt like an outsider in your own body as it writhed and sobbed, while chongyun just held you tightly, whispering gentle comforts and brushing his thumb over the skin of your arms.

slowly, gradually, the focus you directed towards the feeling of chongyun’s soft thumb began to pull you back to your body. you could feel his chest breathing heavily behind you, his legs surrounding your own, his arms enveloping you with a comforting warmth—you didn’t know such a gentle sensation was possible. it hugged you, it compressed you, it filled you. a beautiful kind of relief washed over you in one large wave, allowing you to breathe long enough to remember where you were.

after regaining control of yourself, you managed to worm your body around enough to face chongyun, wrapping your legs around his torso and burying your face in his neck while he (after recovering from his surprise) helped you adjust and sit on his lap comfortably. the boy leaned into your touch completely, melting into you to envelope your body completely with his own. his arms fit snugly around your waist as if that was where they belonged. no words were exchanged—they needn’t have been. you simply clutched onto chongyun as if afraid you would leave yourself again, desperate to stay connected to the present despite the noise that had driven you to panic in the first place. the noise didn’t matter so long as you could feel chongyun, touch chongyun, just know that chongyun was there.

you melted into his warmth—the warmth of the boy with the cryo vision.

[nicksbestie]

So I saw a post you did about autistic reader x 5sos and I was wondering if you'd write more posts like that? If so, could you write about 'sensory issues' or sensory 'overload' relating to autism and how the boys help you deal with that?

Thank you so much!!!

Also, no swearing if this ever gets done please xxx

kk here we go

Overwhelmed

word count: 186

warnings: talk of overstimulation, sensory overload

Autism is hard. And it doesn’t come with a manual on how to navigate it either, but you were doing fairly well, because you had a lot of support. 

Okay!! This isn’t really a fic, this is more of me just throwing ideas out there. Sorry, but that’s how I interpreted this. 

Luke:

Wraps you in a squeeze hug, turns off any fluorescent lights, turns on soft fairy lights, and gets your comfort items, whether that’s a fidget toy, a stuffed animal, or anything of the sort.

Ashton: 

Prepares your comfort foods, turns on soft music or sings to you, runs through his breathing techniques with you, or asks you to hold random things and identify them for him so you take your mind off of it.

Calum:

Offers deep pressure cuddles/therapy, either laying with/on you or with a weighted blanket, and gently runs his hands through your hair, enough physical touch to relax you but not overwhelm you more. 

Michael:

Gives you his headphones, creates a quiet, safe space, rocks you, or gets a compression swing for you to swing/rock on yourself.

[1kroolkroc]

More Jevil headcanons :D

Source: idk im bored lol

Also, flashing warning and volume warning for some of the videos I've linked

Jevil plays Maple Leaf Rag on the piano at breakneck speed, then transitions it into the fast part of Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2, then throws in a Freedom motif out of nowhere, and transitions it into Slider from Super Mario 64! Then as the cherry on top, he transitions it into a 100,000 note cover of UN Owen Was Her, and in the middle, finish it all off by turning it into the ending part of Battle Against A True Hero! On top of that, he plays an accordion with his feet, a triangle with his tail, the piano with one arm, the trumpet with another, and drums with a pedal

Keep in mind that he does all of this, both to troll the music snobs, and because he's bored, but mainly to troll the music snobs

He calls the Creation from Frankenstein "Frankenstein" on purpose

He intentionally pronounces and spells "mischievous" the exact same way you would "devious" ("Mischievious")

Jevil is a night owl and will stay up until the crack of dawn, then wake up at around 1 to 2 PM

He gets random bursts of energy at night and will pace around the entire dungeon cell, which is part of the reason he has a hard time sleeping at night

He's up to date on memes, but will misuse them on purpose just to see how many people he can make cringe, how hard he can embarrass them, and how quickly they beg him to stop

When he cries, his eyes burst with large waterfalls of tears, he hiccups and sobs very loudly, and his limbs flop like noodles! If you want to comfort him, the best way is to just be there beside him and let him rant

If Jevil doesn't get the joke, he'll crack his own joke instead; nobody has to know that he didn't get it, and nobody ever will know

He doesn't have much people to talk about nihilism with; in his experience, most people are usually either depressingly sad over life's lack of meaning or annoyingly angsty and edgy about it. He doesn't really get to talk to many people about the freedoms that this philosophy provides for him, because people are generally really obsessed with meaning and purpose, to the point where they can't imagine a life without either of those things

If a mind-reader tried to read Jevil's mind, they would immediately be bombarded with a mish-mash of several noises, all of which overlap each other and jump from one topic to an entirely different one, with absolutely no rhyme or reason to any of it, whatsoever! They'd experience a heavy dose of sensory overload and would never be able to make sense of it! Not even Jevil himself can tune out, slow down, or decipher the constant stream of chaos in his head

[cats-and-confusion]

New cooking show. All the judges have sensory issues and if you displease them or push them too far out of their comfort zone you get disqualified, if you make something they like so much they manage to eat the whole thing you get a prize.

Secret rule that if you make one of the judges feel bad about their sensory issues you get put in a taffy machine until your bones are dust

[mad4turtles]

hello hello! first things first, i’d like to say i love all of your fics !! your way of writing fluff is so sweet !!

i also come with a fic req (no pressure, of course) !! i’d love to see a body swap fic in your style !! but only if that’s something you’d like to write. either way, i hope you take care of yourself before anything else and have a great day !!

Ooookay, I had both a field day AND a headache from this, because it's SUCH a good prompt that I'm tempted to make a part 2, but I don't know enough about a specific disorder that's a common headcanon in the fandom to do it confidently, so, for now, this will stay as a one-shot. I hope you like it, though!

---

Leo swears someone out there is out to get them. It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares at himself in the bathroom mirror.

Donnie's deadpan face stares back at him.

They'd all woken up like this. Different rooms, different bodies and different faces staring back at them on every reflective surface. Leo won't deny that he'd screamed the loudest, lamenting the loss of his beautiful face. Donnie, stuck in Leo's body (of course, why not?), had immediately blamed Leo for reasons the (former)slider cannot fathom. Probably because it's easier than blaming himself, again, with no grounds to speak of.

It had been hilarious watching Raph try to be the big brother in Mikey's little body. It was less fun to watch Mikey nearly cry after breaking everything he touched with unchecked strength and a body three sizes bigger. 

(Makes Leo wonder just how much Raph has been holding back on them. He thinks of the Kraang and quickly decides it doesn't matter.)

What matters is Leo getting back into his own body before Donnie decides to punch himself in the face. 

Draxum had laughed for thirty minutes when they called but eventually promised to have something of an explanation and a cure by the end of the day. Splinter and April weren't much better. Casey Jr, bless him, was torn between genuine concern and exhaustion—“How many 'shenanigans' can you get up to in less than three stories?!” “Stop breaking the freakin' wall!”—which, fair enough. 

Cassandra had looked at them once and demanded that 'Orange Raph' fight her. “I want to test my might against the future Mystic Warrior! With Raphael's nature, it is sure to be a battle of the ages!”

Spoiler alert: it was not. Leo thinks they're still tangled up in Mikey's chains in the rafters. He wonders if April's gotten them down yet.

In the meantime, Leo decides to... explore? Is that the right word? It sounds gross, considering the circumstances, but that's essentially what he's doing. He's lived with Donnie all their lives, and this is the closest he's ever been (or ever really wanted to be) to his twin. Plus, he's a different species of turtle now. It's so freaking wild, and he can't help himself. He's curious.

He pokes and prods in ways his touch-sensitive brother will never usually allow on a good day—he touches his face (so square, but dude, what a wicked jawline!), his arms (Donnie's always been a little broader than Leo, stronger than he lets on), pulls at his fingers (there are burns and scars on the pads from welding and training, a tooth-mark from when Leo bit him when they were three and a few more from before Don had curbed the habit with other stims), his legs (Donnie what the hell have you done to your knees? Did the Avatar take away your bending?!) and lastly—

His hand hovers over the rim of Donnie's shell.

The soft shell has often been a no-go zone. Except for emergencies (and Leo, because it's a scientific fact that sliders ride soft-shells like a skateboard, and Donnie makes the best pillow). But otherwise, touching the shell unprompted would earn them a hiss at best, and a bite at worst. Leo's body has scars to prove it. 

But since the invasion, Donnie has been... particular about his shell. Since being ripped out of the Technodrome after being subjected to actual sensory hell (Leo will never forgive himself for putting his twin through that, whether he knew or not). He barely lets anyone near it now, not even Leo, unless he whines hard enough for a cuddle. Even then, that's only after the nightmares.

He'd promised not to mess around, fun as it would be. With Raph, he might've done—a smashing spree in some condemned building sounded goddamn cathartic—and with Mikey, he'd probably dip his toe in the overflowing pool of mystic energy in his baby brother's core, maybe learn a thing or two. 

But Donnie is different. And for the first time ever, he truly, truly, understands.

He leaves the shell alone and leaves the bathroom. He'll mess with his eyebrows instead.

~0o0~

“Nardo, I require assistance!”

Oh, thank god, something to do. Leo rolls off the beanbag, stretching until bones crack, yawing wide. Donnie had said not to mess around, but he said nothing against naps, and god did Donnie need one. “'s still so friggin' weird hearing my voice talkin' with your dead-ass tone, Dee,” he calls sleepily, lumbering towards the lab. Three hours was too long and yet not enough.

“It is about as jarring as hearing my voice using dumb slang and quoting Vines and seeing my own body wearing your skirts,” Donnie calls back, with Leo's voice, and yep, it's still freaking weird. About as weird as entering the lab to see him surrounded by tech, fingers flying and hands reaching with confidence as though he were born with it. 

Watching his body handle Donnie's machines so efficiently makes Leo's skin itch. Or maybe that's Donnie's body having a natural, visceral reaction to seeing anyone touch his shit. Which is fair, really. Leo got pissed seeing Donnie in his clothes in the mirror, ready to complain about the battle shell stretching his favourite sweater, only to remember. This whole thing sucks.

“So,” Leo drags the word out, plodding over to where Le—Donnie is sitting in the organized chaos of what looks to be another battle shell. “Whatcha need, Don-tron? Dearest twin? Brother whom I love very much and would be nothing without his incredible one-liners, his charm and wit, his beautiful—”

“Just because you're saying things with my voice doesn't make any of those statements true,” Donnie mutters, sliding the goggles off his face and climbing unsteadily to his feet. Must be disorienting since Leo is not only half a foot shorter than Don but carries a slightly heavier shell. He turns to Leo, hands fluttering at his sides—

“Shit, what did I do?” Leo yelps, hopping back a step.

“What? Nothing, nothing's wrong, why're you—?”

“Your—my—you got the flutters, my guy. Sending me a lot of mixed signals, and my—your body is telling me to react by biting, and I cannot stress enough how much I don't want that.”

“Wha—oh.” Donnie clenches his hands into fists. “I'm—I'm not angry with you, Leo, it's just—this whole situation is frustrating. I can't find an answer, Draxum hasn't shown up yet, I'm not in my own freaking body, and you—your body is so different, like, your head is clearer than mine and yet just as cluttered and messy, and I can touch and smell and eat things that I couldn't before because you're not as sensitive to it, but I also can't stand up straight without tripping over my own feet because of the differences in height and weight, and I'm constantly reaching for my battle shell only it's not there because I technically don't need it for the first time in my life and now I'm doing that—thing that you do where you ramble yourself into circles when you're upset because I'm working myself up because this is different I don't like different and oh look at that my hands are flapping am I about to take off? I do not know? I need—god, Leo, I need—”

Leo watches his eyes well up with tears, hands flapping as Donnie tries to articulate his needs. Needs he doesn't normally have in his own body because of his aversions. Donnie doesn't need touch all the time. Leo does, almost constantly, as much as Mikey does. The lack of it can drive him up the goddamn wall, which is why he always bugs his brothers, or Dad, or whoever's closest that wouldn't mind being used as a climbing frame or a pillow for a few minutes.

God, this must be hell on Donnie. Much like trying to put make-up on or wrap himself up in his favourite blanket had been actual torture for Leo. 

(Just like the thought of hugging makes Leo's—Donnie's skin crawl uncomfortably. Leo kind of wants to cry, too.)

But he swallows it down like he does every other bad thing and spreads his arms. Donnie looks up with Leo's teary eyes and stares. Leo smiles. “C'mon, big brother,” he says. He means it, but he also just wanted to hear Donnie say it.

Donnie twists his face into something half grateful and irritated and throws himself at Leo, squeezing tight enough to hurt even with Donnie's battle shell. Leo feels a shudder run through him—no no no no no get off get off get off nope nope nope do not TOUCH me—and forces his arms to wrap around Donnie's shoulders, squeezing back. 

Donnie sighs, breath hitching. “Oh my god,” he says, “I have never, in my life, needed this much physical contact. Oh my god. I think I actually get you, Nardo. And Mikey, too, I guess. All this because I needed a hug. Jeezy heckin' creezy, how do you live like this?”

Leo swallows hard. “Same way you live like everything burns when you don't want anyone touching you,” he says. There's a lump in his throat, suddenly, when it hits him. “... yet you do it anyway.”

Donnie nuzzles Leo's shoulder, seeking warmth and attention the way Leo has always done—needed to—and sending more sparks through Leo's—Donnie's—system. “... well, yeah,” he says. “I knew how bad it could get for you, but... I guess I never got how bad it could feel. And besides, you guys are usually great telling when I'm open for a cuddle or when I will literally kill you on sight if you touch me, so... wait, are you—?”

“I am on freaking fire, Donnie—”

“Oh my freaking god, let go then, you idiot, that is my body's way of telling me I'm about to have a meltdown—!” 

“But you need—need a hug—”

“Then I'll go to Raph or Mikey—whichever isn't still hanging from the ceiling, just let go! You are literally seconds from crashing, come on, I'll give you my special stuff from my special closet. Christ on a bike, Leon, you're as stressed as I am, a nap won't fix it, and an unwanted hug certainly won't—”

“Don, 's too loud—!”

“Shit, shit, sorry—here, put on my headphones and take the fluffy duck. This looks like it's gonna be a bad one, so get your—my ass in the closet. Get my whole ass in there, yep, good boy, get all nice and cosy, wow you ramble a lot when you're stressed out—”

“Hisssss—“

“Holy shit that's actually scary from a different perspective, I'll shut up now. You know the drill; I'll come to check on you after an hour. I'll grab the others for a turtle pile afterwards, I'm usually in the mood for that after a bad one, but—yeah, I'll go now, love you, don't bite or hit yourself, I'm gonna go glomp Mikey in Raph's body for a spine-breaking hug.”

Donnie shuts the closet door, and the darkness, surrounded by all of Donnie's 'special sensory things', is an instant relief.

Screw the T.V. tropes, Leo thinks as he breathes through fat tears and hiccuping sobs, rocking back and forth and squeezing the fluffy duck plush to quell the urge to hit himself. Body swaps suck. 

---

Reblogs are appreciated :3

Feel free to send me more prompts! &lt;3

[lostcitysystem]

Sensory overload tips cause I just had sensory overload and after 14 years of dealing with this I know some stuff:

(You probably know all of this but it can be good to keep a reminder in case your brain tends to freeze up during an overload- also everyone is different and this is just what helps me)

Go into a dim or dark room

Remove sound stimuli by turning off phone alerts, putting on noise cancelling headphones/ear defenders and distancing yourself from people talking/music playing

Take off any clothes that may be making you uncomfortable

Take deep, slow breaths, focusing on being calm and lowering your heart rate/brain activity

Try to add some weight to your body by piling on pillows/duvets or using weighted blankets/plushies (if you find it helpful)

Get to your ideal temperature by removing layers or adding them (I prefer the cold so I usually take off clothes and lie on the floor or my bed without the bedding)

Stim if you’d like to, it’s not doing you any harm to get energy out of your body (just be aware of self-harm stims that can aggravate your sensory overload, even if they feel good in the moment)

Engage in special interests- watch your favourite show, hug a plush related to your spin, listen to music related to your spin etc

Drink a glass cold glass of fluid or have a hot drink (if you’d like)

Talk to a trusted friend or loved one, they may be able to help calm you down

Try eating a safe food or chewing some gum, it can be a good stim and will likely calm your nervous system (in more severe sensory overload, food can be overwhelming though)

Stay in this calm space you’ve created for however long you need to, you’re doing really well and there’s no pressure to come out and socialise with others or do anything that could relapse the sensory overload

Finally (after the sensory overload has ceased), if you haven’t already, gather resources in a box, drawer, bag etc to help you in the event of another overload- some good options are stim toys, ear plugs/defenders, a list of things you find calming, printed online articles about sensory overload and how to calm it and things related to your special interest(s)

I hope this was helpful and I know it was probably stuff you’ve heard before but I didn’t know about a lot of this stuff until years after I first started having sensory overload and had to learn it from experience.

I hope you’re doing okay and have a lovely day, you’re doing the very best you can and I’m proud of you.

Feel free to add on other tips if you have them! This is not a comprehensive list and more insights are useful!

[ace-aro-sasha-nein]

Kelvin had a long day

[cavernclaw]

nightheart reminds me of the boys at my catholic middle school that would laugh whenever i had a panic attack and mock me when i was suffering from sensory overload

[i-may-be-an-emu]

Had a meltdown today, sensory overload at a loud event with flashing lights and people everywhere, and it was an unexpected event too :/

Im feeling better now and i think i handled it well, but I hate being autistic sometimes. I love it. But. Yeah, sometimes.

[deadlydelicious]

like 90% of the time I lead a life that means I can accommodate my Autism so well to the point of not even noticing it causing me issues.

but all it takes is one house guest with no self awareness and suddenly i'm a stimming flinching mess. like i have never been so overwhelmed before

i guess i also never realized just how ND 'friendly' my house and family is until suddenly my aunt and uncle are here and its just like blinding how much they have never had to think about accommodating kids with sensory and socialization issues, where as my parents raised two (and likely my dad is himself)

just leaving stinking food out on the top of the counter (which is huge for me because i am massively sensitive to strong food smells)

playing the radio CONSTANTLY off their phones so there's just this awful tiny hum of music all the time just scraping over me.

and they just CONSTANTLY talk at a shouting level and make noise and sing along to the radio and ask questions and it literally is stressing me out to the point of tears. i'm sat here crying from stress. its been 2 days. they are so inconsiderate, and my parents just let them

and i can't say anything about it because then i'm the bitch, even though they're the ones who have invaded my home and made it a sensory minefield

and even if i did they'd probably just laugh and say i'm to sensitive in that awful way Neurotypicals do when they try to turn you into a joke so they can police your behavior ad remind you you're weird

i'm not over sensitive, i'm not weird, i'm autistic and you're in my fucking house trampling over all my boundaries

[incompleteninny]

The sixty-sixth free, unedited chapter of my upcoming book, “The Heist at Cordia Aquarium” is now available on its website (or click here to read from the beginning).

Sidewalk and road wind in front of them, dark except for two streetlamps that flicker a weak, warm tone. Nearly outshone by the waning moon overhead.

"One more block." Barclay says.

The dark doesn't bother Scrypher, but the quiet unnerves her. It feels wrong. Too still. She casts her head about, hoping her helmet's cameras flag some sort of movement.

Nothing. Not even a stray cat.

"Is it usually this empty over here?" She says.

Barclay bats a hand through the air. "Oh, definitely. We're pretty far off main street and this area isn't zoned for residential. Got a bunch of corporate offices, warehouses, and whatever other mixed-use stuff is allowed out here." He tugs at a curl of his mustache and swallows the start of a laugh. "It's been a little while since I took the exam."

Words fight to get out of her throat, but she bites down on the meat of her lip with well practiced — albeit painful — grace. He's friendly. Kind. But, there's one thing she can't get past: his laziness. Their laziness.

[...]

[nicksbestie]

could you do one where someone's autistic and fireworks sucks and there's some flavor of comfort in there bc fireworks suck 🤩 (I was gonna ask for this the other day but I didn't wanna over load you in case you had too many requests haha)

Holiday

word count : 823

warnings : talk of autistic overstimulation, meltdown, crying

<3

Despite being American, you hated the Fourth of July.

Luckily, you had an Australian boyfriend, who didn’t mind the dislike of the holiday. But regardless of you not liking it, a lot of the country did, and that caused a ton of problems. 

You had autism, and your sensory issues went off the rails when it came to loud noises like gunshots, or fireworks, making July 4th one of the worst days of the year for you. You never went out to see fireworks or shows on that night, and neither did Ashton, for obvious reasons. He didn’t dislike the noise, but he would never take you out into a situation that you would be uncomfortable in. 

For your most recent birthday, Ashton had gotten you noise canceling, ear defending, headphones, and they had easily become your favorite thing to keep on you at all times. You were more sensitive to noises than most, and regular earphones just didn’t do the best for you, so these were absolutely top tier. 

And that brings you to tonight, July fourth, 2023. It was just nearing four in the afternoon, and you knew a lot of the fireworks from the houses around you would be starting soon. Ashton was also due to be home soon, but you couldn’t find your headphones for the life of you. You spent forty five minutes searching, only stopping when your phone dinged, lighting up with a message from Ash. 

“Will be home a little later, got a rush of motivation. I love you! <3”

A text that would normally make you happy for Ashton made you nearly cry. You could hear people beginning to set off fireworks, and not only did you not have your headphones, you now didn’t have your boyfriend, and those were your main two sources of comfort, especially when you were overwhelmed. Curling up in your bed, shoving a pair of regular earphones in, you turned up music so loud to drown out the fireworks, but the volume of the music began to hurt you as well. 

It felt like an eternity until you saw Ashton’s car pulling into the drive, and by this point, you were nearing a full breakdown. Tears were streaming down your face, and you were holding a pillow around your ears to try and drown out the loud popping of the fireworks outside. By this point, it was nearing half past five, and Ashton unlocked the front door and rushed in. 

He had no clue that you couldn’t find your headphones, but he did know that fireworks were terrifying for you, and he was hoping you were doing okay. Walking into your room, his heart dropped when he saw you sobbing and curled up on yourself, attempting to drown the noise out. He gently placed a hand on your back, softly letting you know that he was there without scaring you. 

“Baby, where are your headphones?” 

Ashton had a soft, yet worried look in his eyes while he asked the question. You frantically shook your head, trying to get words out through the sobbing. 

“I- I don’t know! Can’t find them. Ash, please help.” 

His heart was breaking for you as he quickly rushed around the house, desperately trying to find your headphones. He found them, sitting in the kitchen. You must’ve not remembered setting them in there, and he immediately brought them back. His hands were cool in temperature, but any touch felt like it was burning hot. He was gentle as he pulled the pillow away from your ears, sliding the earphones out and helping you adjust your headphones to shut out the noise. 

Now that you didn’t have to hear the fireworks, your brain was relaxing, but the crying didn’t stop. You were so overwhelmed with the entire ordeal that regardless of the silence, you were struggling to calm down. Ashton tested the waters by placing an arm around your waist, and when you pushed into his arms, he wrapped them around you and held you tight. The deep pressure of being held helped you relax even more, but it still took about fifteen minutes for you to stop crying and for your breathing to return to normal. 

Ashton pressed soft kisses to your forehead, running his hand through your hair, as that was one of your biggest things that helped you rest. The crying had absolutely exhausted you, and it didn’t take very long for you to fall asleep in his arms. He held you for about two hours, before gently waking you up to eat a late dinner. Fireworks were still going off, so he made sure that you didn’t remove your headphones. 

The rest of the night went a lot more smoothly, mainly because Ashton was there to help. You would forever be grateful for having such an accommodating boyfriend, and he was so much more than happy to help you wherever you needed it.

[impossiblesoul13]

When you want everyone to shut the fuck up but you can't tell them so you run to the toilet

[the-great-donatello]

*leaves after making sure Donnie has noticed canceling headphones fl go help with digging Lep out of rubble*

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