#tw sensory overload

[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

[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.

[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

[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

[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.

[genderful-ghoul]

Oh my gods how awesome would it be to vibrationally feel Square Hammer at a live performance (without getting sensory overload so bad you shut down for 16 months)

The only things I remember from Square Hammer at the ritual I attended was being so somatically traumatized I couldn’t even cry and my brain begging to get out but my body was paralyzed, but in an ideal accommodating show being able to actually stim to Square Hammer? 😍

[the11tailedwrites]

Day 3: Solitary Confinement

Character(s): Crow, Lord Saladin, Glint, Anastasia Romanov

A member of House Romanov kidnaps and tortures The Crow.

Crow struggled uselessly against the woman’s hold as she dragged him through ancient halls. He could feel Glint, hidden within his light, panicking, but there was nothing the ghost could do but watch as his guardian was dragged away.

The woman didn’t say a word as she led Crow into a white padded room. Crow could see the chains that hung from the ceiling and thrashed against her hold. The woman, unbothered by his struggling, chained him up with no issues. Crow squirmed against the chains pinning his arms behind him and it was then he realized they didn’t make a sound. He shouted but he heard nothing. Panic began to set in and Crow saw the woman smile as she pulled out a thick metal band. She placed it over his eyes and Crow saw nothing. Panic filled him as the silence rang in his ears. He felt Glint try to reassure him, gently pressing up against his light, but it did nothing to help. He thrashed, screamed, shouted and pleaded, but he wasn’t even sure if he actually was. He could hear nothing. No rattling of the chains, no breathing, nothing. Just pure silence and the deafening screaming it caused. Was he crying? He must be, but he had no way of telling because he could feel nothing. No coldness of the chains or the discomfort of the blindfold. He was completely and totally deprived of all of his senses.

Crow had no idea how long he had been made to stand in that silence. The only reason he hadn’t gone mad was because of Glint. While Glint couldn’t say anything because Crow couldn’t hear him, he could still push feelings to him. It had just barely been enough.

Then suddenly Crow felt and heard everything and he screamed. He screamed in pain from being forced to stand for so long, he screamed in agony as the rattling of the chains echoed in his ears and he howled as his skin burned with the sensation of the chains, of his clothes, of the blindfold and of his tears. Every little movement set waves of pain through his body, every sound echoed in his head and every little sensation drove him mad. His screams were so loud and he willed himself to stop, but it did little to help.

Glint could do nothing now. Being silent was the only way to help Crow.

At some point, the blindfold fell off and the blinding white of the room forced Crow to close his eyes, hyper aware of the feeling of his eyelids closing and pressing against each other.

More time passed but Crow wasn’t sure how much. The woman was back. She was dragging him along. When had they left that room? It was suddenly very cold and he whimpered. The woman smiled at him.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” she said

She was gone. He was alone. It was cold.

“Hold on, Crow,” whispered Glint, “I’ve called Lord Saladin, we’re on Felwinter peak so he should get here fast,”

Crow didn’t complain, too hurt to really care. Maybe Lord Saladin would kill him. He hoped he would, maybe that would make the pain go away.

There was a figure in his view now. He could see wolves with him. That had to be Lord Saladin. He got closer as Crow’s vision got darker. Saladin must have spotted him because he broke into a run. Crow blacked out before Saladin could reach him.

Saladin had been worried when he got the communication from Glint begging for help. As he walked through the snow of Felwinter peak, he spotted a form lying in the snow. Crow.

The Awoken Guardian was almost completely covered in snow, barely conscious. Saladin broke into a run, his wolves picking up his urgency and rushed with him. By the time Saladin reached Crow, he was unconscious. Saladin picked Crow up and the young Risen moaned in pain, whimpering pitifully.

“Be careful,” whispered Glint, “That woman used sensory deprivation to torture him and then whatever is the opposite of sensory deprivation,”

Saladin nodded and transmatted back to the Iron Temple. He placed Crow onto the nearest flat and elevated surface and removed his cloak and draped it over the unconscious man.

“Any other injuries?” he asked Glint

“No,” responded the ghost, hovering over his guardian

Saladin looked down at Crow as he slept and gently brushed the hair out of his face.

“Keep an eye on him and comm me if his condition gets worse,” said Saladin before rising.

“Yes, sir,” said Glint.

Saladin disappeared deeper into the temple, his mind a whirl storm of thought.

Who had attacked Crow?

[a-boy-writes-stuff]

I'm surrounded by

noise. it's like it's in my head

at this point. get out

[tealaubrey]

I find it bitterly ironic that i have wanderlust when everytime i leave my hometown i have constant sensory overloads.

[o5-the-progeny]

Progeny [signing to herself in agitation]: "Everything, touching me. Bad."

[beep-beep-robin]

quinni gallagher-jones + common autism traits pt. 2

finally made part 2 to this :)