#autistic author

[fiftyfandomsinatrenchcoat]

you‘ve heard of The Author’s Barely Disguised Fetish, now get ready for:

The Author’s Barely Disguised Mental Illness that they’re Projecting onto Every Single Character in the story

[thewayof-fireandash]

Extraordinary Love

Pairing: Jake Sully x autistic!human!reader

Author's note: Listen...I got an idea and thought it was cute. They say to write what you know so...here we go lol I also just want to see more autistic representation in fics. Takes place while Jake is still in the Avatar Program.

Summary: Some days are better than others, and today everything is setting you off until you have a meltdown in front of Jake. He knows just what to do to help you calm down.

Masterlist

Word count: 1K

Warnings: Description of an autistic meltdown. (This is not to say that this is how every autistic person experiences a meltdown or even that every autistic person experiences meltdowns because autism impacts everyone who has it differently.)

You don't know what it is about today. You were perfectly fine yesterday, but today is a different story. It's as if overnight your body decided to dial all your senses up to eleven. The sun is too bright, it stings your eyes every time you look up from your work and the heat of it makes your skin feel too tight across your muscles. The natural hum of the insects irritates your ears, you feel every fiber of your intricately woven top that Neytiri had made for you, and the mask attached to your exo-pack feels more suffocating than the toxic Pandoran air could in this moment. It's all too much. But you're very determined to get these samples logged for Grace. You're her intern after all and no matter how uncomfortable you are, you're too focused on categorizing your flora cuttings to stop now.

That's when you heard he snapping of branches behind you. You turn to look over your shoulder as Jake comes pushing through the underbrush in his 8-foot form. He's in his hunting gear, bow and all. He must have been out with Neytiri before coming to see you. While you're normally overjoyed to see him, you just want to be left alone. A disgruntled sigh leaves your nostrils at the thought.

"Hey baby, whatcha doin'?" Jake asks, a smile lighting up his face.

"Nothing. Can you just go?" Your reply comes out short as you face back towards the razor palm you've been working on.

"Hey," Jake's voice is closer now as his hand lands on your shoulder. You stiffen at his touch. You can feel tears of frustration start to build. "You know I don't like when you talk to me that way," he says, his tone changes and it's all over for you as the dam keeping your emotions at bay breaks.

Hot tears are streastreaming down your face as you scream, "I don't want to be touched!" You shove his arm to release his hold on you. And the loud sobs start as you cluth yourserlf.

Jake's ears drop, his face expressing a sad understanding. Days like this happen. When you hold everything in, when you're having a particularly bad time with sensory overload. Jake had to learn these things when you're relationship deepened. He knew bits and pieces of how autism affected you when you were just colleauges. How loud noises felt like syringe needles stabbing your eardrums, how you couldn't stand certain textures of fabric, how you'd talk endlessly when anyone brought up the wildlife on Pandora or your favorite movies that you brought from Earth. how you loved the feeling of water on your skin.

He breaks out of his thoughts when he hears you struggle to breath, your meltdown overtaking your body. He knows you said you didn't want to be touched, but it's what helps when emotional self regulation is out the window. He puts his hand back on your shoulder.

"Baby," Jake whispers. "Can you look at me?" You shake your head hardas if you're trying to get something disloged from your brain. Jake lets you go to get on your level, resting on his knees before he asks, "What happened, sweetheart, huh? What's got you so upset?"

"I don't know!" you shout. Your arms flail with aggravation at yourself for being unable to name how you feel. You turn towards him, still refusing to meet his gaze. You can't look at him, it's uncomfoortable, you're embarrased, but you can't stop, you're too worked up.

"It's okay, it's okay that you don't know," Jake says as though he's trying to calm a scared animal. His hands circle around your waist as he brings you down on his lap. Your crying having picked up again. He raises his forearms so they're crossed over your back, bringing you closer to himand creating even pressure on your muscles.

"Breathe baby, deep and slow...deeep and slow," he coos. Your chest is against his hard stomach; you can feel him breathing with you. One of his hands cups as his low voice soothes in your ear, "You're safe. I got you."

"Hot, Jake. I'm hot," you whimper. Jake is on his feet in no time. His free hand moves down to cradle your backsideto keep you secure as he walks, while your wrap your legs around his waist to keep steady.

"Let's go to the stream to cool you off," Jake says. If you weren't so hot you'd be able to sleep like this. The gentle rocking of his stride, combined with the deep pressure he's generating on your chest and back, the thump of his soles hitting the ground, and how much your episode out of you has you feeling drowsy. You don't even notice you've made it to the sstream until you feel Jake sit down on a rock and hear his feet slosh in the water.

"Hold your breath baby, I'm gonna take off your mask," he warns. you take a deep breath before he lifts off your mask. Jake dips his hand into the stream and brings the frigid liquid to your forehead, guiding it down to your cheek and neck. It instantly relaxes you, your temprature dropping. You close your eyes in relief, and Jake positions your mask back on, satisfied by the hiss that emenates from it as it locks in place.

"You feelin' any better?" Jake asks. The sweetness in his voice almost gives you a toothache. You nod and let out a quiet 'mhm'. Laying your head on his pec.

"I'm sorry," you sigh. Yo're still dissapointed in yourself for letting your meltdown get that far. you feel Jake delicately push you into an upright posture.

"Look at me," he says softly. His pointer finger hooks under your chin as he focuses your stare on him. You're looking into his beautiful amber eyes for the first time as he tells you, " I love you, sweet girl. Nothin's gonna change that. You're safe with me."

"I'm safe with you."

Ugh this one is near and dear to my heart. As always if you want to be added to the taglist lmk!

Taglist:

@junebugonjupiter

@zzma-rs

@witchbinch1

[pressplay-if]

I love how an ethereal mc is just someone who potentially has autism and didn't learn how to mask (not that anyone needs to). It's very accurate and a bit saddening how even their friends view them as a cryptid.

mind you I was coming up with this while I was undergoing my own asd testings, that should tell you a lot haha

Anyway I feel like all the MCs, not just ethereal but especially ethereal are very autism coded even though I really couldn't find it in me to voice it in writing at the time because it was this huge thing for me yk. The friends treating them like a cryptid could be in the eye of the beholder equal parts saddening or comforting. I myself can never decide which, though in the end, I'd rather the band acknowledges MC's bizarre moments as out of the ordinary, be it solely for the realism

Can't shock Zima though. I dunno if that comes off in my writing but they're the most "ah yes, this is regular" about MC. At least in my head canon haha

Anyhow, thanks sm for noticing, it's really nice that this particular thing resonated with you

[brandyschillace]

The Forgotten History of the World’s First Transgender Clinic

I finished the first round of edits on my nonfiction history of trans rights today. It will publish with Norton in 2025, but I decided, because I feel so much of my community is here, to provide a bit of the introduction.

[begin sample]

The Institute for Sexual Sciences had offered safe haven to homosexuals and those we today consider transgender for nearly two decades. It had been built on scientific and humanitarian principles established at the end of the 19th century and which blossomed into the sexology of the early 20th. Founded by Magnus Hirschfeld, a Jewish homosexual, the Institute supported tolerance, feminism, diversity, and science. As a result, it became a chief target for Nazi destruction: “It is our pride,” they declared, to strike a blow against the Institute. As for Magnus Hirschfeld, Hitler would label him the “most dangerous Jew in Germany.”6 It was his face Hitler put on his antisemitic propaganda; his likeness that became a target; his bust committed to the flames on the Opernplatz. You have seen the images. You have watched the towering inferno that roared into the night. The burning of Hirschfeld’s library has been immortalized on film reels and in photographs, representative of the Nazi imperative, symbolic of all they would destroy. Yet few remember what they were burning—or why.

Magnus Hirschfeld had built his Institute on powerful ideas, yet in their infancy: that sex and gender characteristics existed upon a vast spectrum, that people could be born this way, and that, as with any other diversity of nature, these identities should be accepted. He would call them Intermediaries.

Intermediaries carried no stigma and no shame; these sexual and Gender nonconformists had a right to live, a right to thrive. They also had a right to joy. Science would lead the way, but this history unfolds as an interwar thriller—patients and physicians risking their lives to be seen and heard even as Hitler began his rise to power. Many weren’t famous; their lives haven’t been celebrated in fiction or film. Born into a late-nineteenth-century world steeped in the “deep anxieties of men about the shifting work, social roles, and power of men over women,” they came into her own just as sexual science entered the crosshairs of prejudice and hate. The Institute’s own community faced abuse, blackmail, and political machinations; they responded with secret publishing campaigns, leaflet drops, pro-homosexual propaganda, and alignments with rebel factions of Berlin’s literati. They also developed groundbreaking gender affirmation surgeries and the first hormone cocktail for supportive gender therapy.

Nothing like the Institute for Sexual Sciences had ever existed before it opened its doors—and despite a hundred years of progress, there has been nothing like it since. Retrieving this tale has been an exercise in pursuing history at its edges and fringes, in ephemera and letters, in medal texts, in translations. Understanding why it became such a target for hatred tells us everything about our present moment, about a world that has not made peace with difference, that still refuses the light of scientific evidence most especially as it concerns sexual and reproductive rights.

[end sample]

I wanted to add a note here: so many people have come together to make this possible. Like Ralf Dose of the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft (Magnus Hirschfeld Archive), Berlin, and Erin Reed, American journalist and transgender rights activist—Katie Sutton, Heike Bauer. I am also deeply indebted to historian, filmmaker and formative theorist Susan Stryker for her feedback, scholarship, and encouragement all along the way. And Laura Helmuth, editor of Scientific American, whose enthusiasm for a short article helped bring the book into being. So many LGBTQ+ historians, archivists, librarians, and activists made the work possible, that its publication testifies to the power of the queer community and its dedication to preserving and celebrating history. But I ALSO want to mention you, folks here on tumblr who have watched and encouraged and supported over the 18 months it took to write it (among other books and projects). @neil-gaiman has been especially wonderful, and @always-coffee too: thank you.

The support of this community has been important as I’ve faced backlash in other quarters. Thank you, all.

NOTE: they are attempting to rebuild the lost library, and you can help: https://magnus-hirschfeld.de/archivzentrum/archive-center/

99 years of future for the Magnus Hirschfeld Society

[yeforme]

Hello! I wanted to do something that could possibly help promote my book. I'm not sure how good of an idea this is, but I'm going for it anyways. To help people feel more compelled, I guess, to buy my book and not just feel like wasting money, I introduce the first chapter of "Only She Understood". Read it if you would like, and if you want to read more, buy a copy! Please and thank you, have a wonderful day!

Chapter 1

Summer has just passed and the usual cool feel of Fall came after it. When summer ends, school begins, along with a long list of complaints coming from students wishing for summer to last just a bit longer.

That was one of the few things that made Annett Weaver fit in, a hatred of school.

This is her first year of high school, but in a small town like Kindlewood, it just means seeing familiar faces again, but maybe a bit taller than last year.

Annett was someone who most would describe as ‘bored’ or ‘tired’ looking. Wearing a sweater that always seemed bigger than her, and hair that liked to get in her face with just the right amount of wind. But she had always felt it was the best way to keep her blended into the background.

She didn’t stand out, but she didn’t fit in either, and everyone knew why. It’s hard to keep a secret in a small town, is what she had learned growing up.

“It’s time to start your day, dear. Would you like for me to wait with you at the bus stop, or do you think you can handle it?” That was the first thing Annett heard this morning. The gentle way her mother spoke, soft and cautious, as if waiting for her to fall apart by what should be well known as simple choices.

“I can handle it myself. I’m fourteen, not five.” She muttered bitterly to herself, already standing at the cold bus stop. It was cold in Kindlewood already, something that she was used to growing up. It gets cold early and it leaves late, just like everything else in the old town.

Nothing was ever new in Kindlewood, other than maybe going into a new grade for the kids, but after that? You just end up becoming part of the routine that the small town had developed over the many years of being alive.

Hssssshk

Annett winced at the sound of the bus stopping, watching as the doors opened with their usual creak. A definite sign of their overuse.

She thought to herself as she got onto the bus; What will she do after graduation? It’s not like she quite fits in with anything, something that she had learned very early on in life. But she didn’t have some hidden talent to stand out enough to leave either.

And even then, it’s not like she was very good with change, just like the rest of the town was. Another thing that made her fit in, strangely enough.

Once she was on the bus, she immediately went to the usual seat she had grown accustomed to from her previous years of school. Not quite in the front, but not in the back either, in the middle where it felt right to her.

As she sat in her usual spot, Annett glanced down at her schedule, feeling like she needed to check it again.

And just like the many times before when she would check it, the first teacher she would see is Mr. Daniel. The SpEd teacher of the high school.

She didn’t know much about him, having briefly met him at openhouse, but everyone always said he was great with the kids who have special needs. Kids like her.

He had told her mother that he would be the first person she would see when getting off at the school bus. Annett guessed it was so Mr. Daniel could gently ease her into being in a high school setting. Not that she had never been to the building before, just never as a student there.

But when Annett got off the bus, she only saw a sea of students going into the building to start their first day of school. She didn't really know what to do, other than to stay at the entrance and wait for him. Hoping that he might just be trying to navigate through the crowd.

It’s not like Annett didn’t understand that sometimes, things don’t go as they planned. But that didn’t change the way she feels.

The young girl had been expecting to see Mr. Daniel all morning, so for him to not show up when he said he would, it made her feel like her whole day was suddenly thrown off.

She could already feel the familiar feeling of unease coursing through her. A tight anxiety growing within her chest.

Is she at the right place? Did she misheard? Did Mr. Daniel lie? What reason does he even have to lie? Annett could feel her thoughts spiraling downwards, though she knew it didn’t show on her face.

She stepped off to the side, just so the other kids didn’t bump into her as she waited. And it took what felt like forever for the school entrance to be empty again. And by that time, Mr. Daniel still hadn't shown up.

As Annett stood there, she tried to think to herself of all the possible reasons as to why Mr. Daniel didn’t show up like he said he would.

She couldn’t help but start mumbling to herself, just so she could get her thoughts out. A habit that would come out from time to time.

“Maybe he forgot? He could be helping another student right now.” she started rambling, her voice coming out in quick whispers, “I could have misheard him at open house… it's not like I was fully paying attention to what he was saying to mom. Should I just go in? I don’t remember where his room is though. And I don’t want to ask… Maybe I should just wait? That feels like the better option. Yeah, let’s just wait.”

Annett stared down at the ground, focusing on a crack in the pavement, letting her thoughts drift in and out.

And as the loud ring of the first bell of the day sounded out, she couldn’t hear it in her distracted mind.

Annett was so worried about Mr. Daniel not showing up, that she didn’t even think about being late for school.

“Young miss, what are you doing out here? Didn’t you hear the bell ring?”

The young girl jumped at the shout of an unexpected voice. And as she looked up, it wasn’t Mr. Daniel like she would have hoped for. It was someone else she wasn’t familiar with.

The voice matched the person that was walking up to her; authoritarian. At least to Annett, it did.

The man was bald with a beard, and looked more formal for a high school teacher, dressing rather sharp.

Annett shifted in her spot, looking back down at the ground like she always did when talking with someone new.

“I was waiting for Mr. Daniel.” She spoke quietly, yet bluntly, “He said that he would be the first person I would see getting off the bus today.”

It was a fact to her, despite her earlier doubts and worries about why Mr. Daniel didn’t show up like he said he would. And when the young girl spoke facts, she could be blunt about them sometimes.

The man before her was quiet for a minute, clearly thinking about what Annett had told him. If she had to guess, he could be slowly realizing what type of student she is . Along the usual thoughts that came with it.

“I see.” he finally said, “Well, Mr. Daniel is currently dealing with another student right now. Do you remember anything else he had told you? I’m Mr. McDougall by the way, I’ll be your principal this year.”

The tone he gave her this time felt more relaxed, understanding. Maybe even more patient now that it was clear she wasn’t trying to skip the first day.

Annett saw that he had outstretched his hand, the proper greeting that most people would give.

The young girl took it and shook it, having learned from her father what you are supposed to do for a hand shake. Firm grasp, polite shake.

“I don’t remember, Mr. McDougall.” She started with, being plain spoken about it. “I think he was going to introduce me and show me around the school today… I’m Annett Weaver, by the way.” She finished, speaking up clearer and more relaxed this time. She was no longer speaking facts, just her thoughts. Which can be just as rounded too.

Mr. McDougall was quiet again, which made Annett glance up at him real quick to see that he was looking around the school entrance, before looking and checking his wristwatch.

It was only then she was starting to realize that school must have officially started, which meant she was late for her first day. So maybe she really was skipping after all.

“Do you think I could see your schedule, Ms. Weaver?”He had asked her, keeping his tone nice, “I would like to take you to your first class today. I can even show you around the school, if you would like.”

The way he offered to help felt like the same type of caution the young girl would typically hear whenever someone would ask her a question.

Sometimes she hated it, and other times she didn't realize it was being used. It’s not like tones were the easiest things for her to pick up on, but there were always key factors she picked up on: soft and cautious, and always with a question that made her feel like she was in control of herself. Adults have always talked to her like this.

But Annett still handed her schedule to Mr. McDougall without hesitation, feeling like it was a reasonable thing for him to ask.

“I would like that very much, please.”

Mr. McDougall took the schedule gently with a kind smile. He glanced over it, most likely seeing that Annett does indeed have Mr. Daniel as her first class of the day.

“Well, I see that you do have Mr. Daniel first thing in the morning.” He said in a more kind, casual tone, “But like I said, he’s helping with another student right now. First day, first troubles. Haha.” He laughed softly, joking in a way to help Annett feel more comfortable with the situation.

It did bring her some ease about her troubles, though it did make her unsure of what her day will look like now.

“Yeah, haha… So what am I supposed to do now?” She asked in an uncertain tone, though Mr. McDougall did already tell her he would show her around and help ease her into the high school setting himself.

Mr. McDougall didn’t become annoyed with the question, used to it over his years working in a school. To him, it was just Annett asking for reassurance of what her day will look like.

“I’ll be taking you to your first class and show you real quick where some of your other classes are. Mr. Daniel should be in his room by the time I take you there.”

It didn’t really take long for Mr. McDougall to show the young girl around the school building. It wasn't like he needed to give her the full tour of the building itself. Especially with how small it is.

But by the time he was finished, first period was already over, so she didn’t get a proper chance to meet Mr. Daniel. If he was in his room, that is.

She was currently in her writing class, a room that felt like it was meant to invite the weird artist of the world. Having wind chimes by the open windows and hanging lights around the room, projecting all sorts of colors that seemed to bug Annett’s eyes.

The teacher of the room was going over some rules and having small conversations with random students that passed by. Though she wasn’t paying much attention to her teacher.

Annett was more focused on her schedule, like some of the other students were. The first day of school was usually filled with introductions anyways.

“Welcome to Goldenridge High. I am Ms. Warrick, your ELA teacher.” A happy and energetic voice of a teacher cutted through Annett’s thoughts as she finally introduced herself, making her and the rest of the room pay more attention.

“Now, I know this isn’t your first class of the day, but I would still like to introduce you to it!” Ms. Warrick continued, gesturing widely with her hands. “To help us get into our freshman year of high school, I want us all to write a small paragraph of ourselves. Just so we can get a feel of our fellow classmates. I’ll give you all five minutes.”

Annett heard half the class groan in annoyance, though she wasn’t really sure why. It’s not like what Ms. Warrick was asking for was an essay, just an introduction paragraph. Something that most would find easy.

Annett grabbed her pencil case and notebook, getting ready to write about herself, something that she knows very well.

“Don’t you think everyone knows each other by now? We’ve been with each other since Kindergarten.” Annett heard somebody whisper to her. It was someone she also knew very well, her best and only friend, Nat Marritt.

To her, he was a good example of seeing a familiar face, just with slight changes. He obviously kept the same face from last year, though it did look like he gained a few pimples over the summer.

But all and all, Nat was still the same, just slightly bigger, both by length and width.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t think we all have the same classes since Kindergarten, Nat. And besides, we might see somebody new.” She whispered back, smiling a little at seeing her good friend.

Nat rolled his eyes, smiling back at her and getting his notebook out as well. “Well, if there is somebody new here, then I’ll buy you a snack at lunch, how bout that?” He challenged, setting his notebook down on the desk, “I heard they have a vending machine for the students here.”

Annett was a little surprised at hearing something like that, her middle school didn’t have a vending machine for the students because they ‘might take advantage of it’, as her principal there would have said. Though there was no telling what that actually meant. What would they even take advantage of? Chips? Candy? She guessed Goldenridge High might be more lenient towards the kids here. Which the young girl definitely didn’t mind.

Annett felt perked up a little at the idea of getting a snack, which in turn made her hope that a new student really will be in her class today. Something she normally wouldn’t think twice about, if at all.

“That sounds like a deal! Get me the blue bag of chips, would you please?” She politely asked, feeling more chipper than how her day started off.

Nat just smiled and nodded at her, turning to his writing project of self introduction.

Despite the vague way she told him what snack she wanted, their years of friendship made it where he understood what she was asking for. Something that brought comfort to the young girl.

“Dot your ‘i’s and cross your ‘t’s, it’s time for everyone to introduce themselves. You should at least have a sentence down.” Ms. Warrick's voice cut through the classroom, silencing any small conversations the students might still be having.

Annett looked down at what she wrote, feeling like she got the basics of herself down well, but that isn’t what she was focusing on anymore. She needed to see if there were any new students in her class.

Annett kept her eyes on her paper, though she kept her ears open for any new voices or unfamiliar names.

She rubbed her thumb on the soft material, seeing all the basic information she wrote about herself on it. The small, neat as they can be scribbles of her writing etched onto the paper.

It’s information that everyone knew about her, so really, nothing new to anyone. Unless there was a new student in the room, then it obviously would be new to them.

As she was waiting for any new names to be called out, Annett heard a rustling of the wind outside of the window next to her. Ms. Warrick’s wind chimes softly hitting each other in rhythm.

It should have meant nothing to her, but there was something almost different about this autumn wind, something more... strange, maybe?

She turned her head to look out the window, seeing the greens of the trees turning into the usual warm colors of fall, and one of the many old apple orchards in Kindlewood near the school that had its own history.

It was once called Goldenridge, where the high school got its name. It was once a main staple of the town, but just like many things, became old and forgotten, overgrown with its secrets.

The trees started to move along with the winds, some leaves floating towards the ground, while others remained stubbornly in place.

It felt entrancing to her, the way the leaves fell and the warm colors that came in the cool season swirling around with the cool crisp air. The young girl felt like she didn’t want to take her eyes off of it.

And as she stared, she couldn't help but notice something in the old twisting apple trees, something that might have matched with the strange wind.

It snuck through the trees, almost standing out between them. A stark white glistening against the browns and reds of the trees.

And Just as Annett went to get a closer look–

“Annett Weaver? Do we have an Annett Weaver in our class?” Ms. Warrick’s voice interrupted her thoughts, making the young girl jump out of her seat, grabbing her paper and fumbling with it.

Her classmates giggles filled the classroom as she stood there, her face turning warm with embarrassment.

“Sorry…” She quietly mumbled, wishing she didn’t have to do this now.

Annett cleared her throat, trying to regain whatever composure she usually had, and started reading what little she wrote.

“I’m… Annett Weaver. I’ve lived in Kindlewood my whole life and I like– umm… I like snacks and sweets. I don’t really do much other than maybe read and watch movies, and… I have autism.”

It was a quick and simple introduction, nothing too hard. And as soon as it was over, everyone went on to the next kid, listening to their awkward rambles.

So it was no big shock to her classmates, not just who she is, but what she had as well. All of them had experienced it one way or another.

Her disorder has been following her for most of her life, so it wasn’t like she could hide anything from them. What point was there in hiding in Kindlewood anyway?

It was just as Nat said, they’ve all known each other since Kindergarten.

So Annett just simply sat back down in her chair, the class moving on from her introduction.

But as the young girl barely listened to the next kid's introduction, she heard the quiet whisper of Nat’s voice once again, breaking away her half-hearted attention.

“You won the bet.”

Want more? Buy a copy!--->https://a.co/d/0cuIWtzD

[shimmies]

Writing a very special-to-me paterned universe with autistic characters! Thank you @saltyseazdgx for introducing me to paterson 💜

you must fix your heart (and build an altar where it swells)

After taking the bus one day during a snowstorm, Ned suddenly has little interest in biking to work. Chapters 4/4 | 12k words | Rated E

get me outta my head (cause it's getting quite cramped, you know)

For Paterson, talking is hard sometimes, and Ned wants to help. Chapter 2/2 | 3400 words | Rated E

🌟time has brought your heart to me🌟

It’s Ned’s fourth week dating Paterson—not that he’s been counting or anything. Chapter 1/3 | 1500 words | Rated E

[write-with-will]

Autistic Lane thoughts

**NOTE! I, the author, am autistic, and I am writing Lane from the lens of my own perspective and experiences. I do not speak for all autistic people and characters. One person’s experiences (or the way a character’s experiences are written) does not dictate anyone else’s. Everyone’s is different, this is just drawn from what I experience and how I think it would be for someone like Lane.

She always knew that there was... something up with her. That her brain just didn't work the same way as the soldiers around her. But obviously they don’t teach you about neurodivergence in the military so she thought she was just Made Wrong for the first like twenty or so years of her life.

Cali had suspicions when they meet because one of her siblings was autistic and she recognized some of the behaviors, but never got the chance to say anything because. Yk. War.

She doesn’t get diagnosed until wayyy in the future when she FINALLY gets to go to a therapist. She cries a little. Don’t tell anyone.

She’s real bad with change. She spent basically her entire life up to her late teens in the regimented, predictable structure of military life, so the sudden freedom once she leaves is.. terrifying.

She often finds herself instinctively copying the memorized military schedule in her head, just because it feels familiar and safe. Meals at the same time, exercise at the same time, etc etc. If that routine is messed with, she just feels… weird and fidgety and wrong for the rest of the day, even if she manages to get things back on schedule.

Food is really hard. Combine not likening change and new things with only eating nutrient rich slop for as long as your remember. Not good. Trying new foods is really rough (she’s trying though!).

It makes Cali a little sad sometimes, because cooking is such a vital part of how she shows love, but she understands. They take it slow, and Lane really does try to try Cali’s food (even if it makes her uncomfortable, just to make her girl happy).

Her main safe foods(?) are hot chocolate (her first good memory around a food item was Daniel bringing her a hot chocolate after she was taken in), plain oatmeal (most similar to what they ate in the military), and bread. She tends to like plain or one-ingredient foods more than something with a bunch of different tastes.

Will sometimes try new foods by kissing Cali after she eats to taste them in a safe way (Cali = Safe <3).

Really big on repetition. She'll disassemble and reassemble her rifle fifty times without even realizing it, just because it relaxes her. Repetitive, familiar = safe.

Shutdowns > Meltdowns. She’s never been one for the loud, chaotic explosions of emotions (though there are very rare occasions when this might be the case). Instead, she just tends to… get quiet. Retreat into herself and default to following orders (she tendencies towards a fawn response).

Post canon, whenever she’s feeling particularly disregulated, she’ll go outside and chop wood. It’s repetitive, it’s physically exerting, AND it’s something ‘useful’ (she’s used to having to be of some kind of help 24/7 and struggles to shrug that off sometimes).

Kneading dough too!! They bake a lot of bread on bad days, and give the excess away to their friends in town (for those who missed the post canon thoughts post, they live on a small mountain homestead a little ways away from a tiny town).

HATES loud noises (ironic for a shooter, huh?), absolutely despises them. She’s good at disguising it of course, but they always send her into a little bit of a panic. It’s one of the only sense-related things that really gets to her.

Physically cannot wear any clothes that cover her neck (collared shirts, turtlenecks, etc) because they remind her too much of the military uniform (though this is more of a trauma thing than autism 🤷).

She takes things super literally, and isn’t very good at detecting sarcasm or tone. She tends to take the words and the words only. It doesn’t help that she grew up sheltered enough to not know many figures of speech and sayings.

Her special interest in every universe is military history, and in canon it’s specifically the deistic war. It’s nice to use her military knowledge to learn about a war that your country had nothing to do with. It’s just enough distance to keep the ptsd at bay but to still hold her interest.

Hockey AU-Specific thoughts (though most of the ones above can be translated to this if you think about em from this lens):

Wears musician’s earplugs during games to drown out some of the screaming from the stands but keeps her able to hear what’s going on around her on the ice.

She posts videos on social media where she rants about military history (Gwyn Phillips with dinosaurs core).

Is surprisingly open about her autism, because she knows that if a young Lane had been able to have a cool women’s hockey player that was also autistic, it would’ve helped her so much with her self esteem. And if she can do that for a little girl somewhere out there? She’s done her job.

@vesanal @xunfix-writes @thebookishkiwi @inspirationallybored @corinneglass

@seastarblue @seafloor509 @ark-inkweaving @leahnardo-da-veggie @adhdalex15

@ifmasonbasonwasawriter @theink-stainedfolk @hauntedmoontimetravel @overwhelmedfernfrond @scrapsscribbles

@professional-termite @novaluna7189 @traderotales @periseph @sundeir

@hyacinthwritesbooks

[lefemmerougewriter]

My Fics with Zoey as an Autistic Character

Good afternoon everyone. In honor of Autistic Pride Day, I wanted to share my fics, all of which are included in my pinned post, where Zoey is autistic, which is my headcanon (I've written about on this blog in the past), as have other fans. In all of these, Zoey is shown with Entrapta (who I mentioned in my other post earlier today on this blog), a friendship I'd love to write about in the future. The Squidge World links are under the read more section of this post

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

..."Oh...that's interesting...you're from another planet like Arthur Dent in The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy...I mean he barely escaped the Vogan Destructor Fleet...only thanks to that ring his friend gave him." With a sparkle in her eye, and a smile, she added, "I've watched that film so many times with Zoey...she insisted on it." They had no idea what she was talking about. What even was... a film? She blurted something out. "Can you all give me a hug...please?" Bow and the rest of them were more than happy to oblige. They came together and wrapped their arms around her. She felt better already. Perhaps she was naive to trust them. To her, they seemed genuine to their core.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

...She was grateful to hang out with this talented rapper. She tended to enjoy tiny things in her life, whether tiny robots, tiny tools, or tiny food. When it came to Zoey, they were connecting on a deeper level. She couldn't help but be drawn to her as a friend, rather than in a romantic or sexual way. After all, this rapper was just as nerdy, although not completely in the same ways as her. There were many commonalities between both of them. As she became more relaxed, Zoey casually passed some ketchup-flavored potato sticks her way. Entrapta was unsure about this food at first, but the rapper encouraged her. She chowed down. She was amazed by the taste.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

....Rumi, Zoey, and Mira stopped their dancing. They walked toward him. "Thanks, Bobby. You really are the best," they said. Just then, Entrapta blurted out some words. "Lots of emotions from that big one there. Oh, this is so interesting. The interactions of humans are so fascinating!" Bobby didn't know what to make of her. Catra and Adora shrugged. It's not like they could stop her. Glimmer had given up on that. Bow was casually dressed, and not in his archer outfit, so he could fit in more. He tried to speak on her behalf. "Don't mind Entrapta, this is just what she does." He nodded uneasily. Where did these people come from again? Rumi pulled Bobby aside. She whispered in his ear.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

...At that very moment, the girls glowed brighter than ever. Entrapta's voice filled their earpieces. "The Golden Honmoon process has begun...I'm so excited.” To make sure they weren't worried, she added, "So be ready. I'll do what I can to support you." Glimmer, exasperated from all the fighting, said, "thanks, Entrapta...for looking out for us." You could almost see her smiling in response. "Well, that's what are friends for." Rumi started to cry out as the energy from the crowd concentrated in her. She was able to, thanks to the fact that Zoey and Mira could wield weapons from the Honmoon, distribute it. This wouldn't be her burden alone. "We will win! You are done, Gwi-Ma! We are golden!"

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

...Mira and Rumi were startled when Zoey stood up out of nowhere. What was she doing? "I'll go with them," she declared, in an effort to be a good hostess. Bow wasn't the biggest fan of her proposal. As he was about to tell Glimmer that he just wanted the two of them to walk together, she happily chirped, "we'd love to have your company, right, Bow?" He nodded, begrudgingly agreeing to let her come along, not wanting to cause a row. He knew that she and Zoey had formed a strong friendship. Perhaps they'd have a lot to talk about. In almost no time at all, like she had it down to a science, she changed into a more casual outfit. She then shouted, "onward!"

Squidge World Versions

"The Best Friend Squad Meets Huntrix" (can be read here: https://squidgeworld.org/works/81355)

"Tiny Food, Nerdy Girls, Rapping, and Spaceships" (can be read here: https://squidgeworld.org/works/82768)

"'You Don't Get to Refuse': Huntrix, Singing Demon Boys, Entrapta, Bobby, the Best Friend Squad, and the Golden Honmoon" (can be read here: https://squidgeworld.org/works/81693)

"The Crisis at the Idol Awards and the Aftermath of Victory" (can be read here: https://squidgeworld.org/works/81861)

"Reunited Again?: Huntrix, the Best Friend Squad, Sana the Scoundrel, and Rumi's Daring Decision" (can be read here: https://squidgeworld.org/works/82458)