#autistic fitz

[shanetism]

so rambly but trip's smile when fitz answers his box by high-fiving it... trip noticing fitz is vaguely hostile to him which is because he doesn't like change and feels like trip is stealing simmons from him and trip was So on a mission to winning his trust and getting fitz to like him like. that smile is so happy and satisfactory!

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

2, 7 & 11 for Fitz for the autistic headcanons ask?

Thanks for the ask!

2. Stimming head canons?

Well, we know from canon that he flaps his hands when upset. I like that one (not that he’s upset, but that he flaps his hands). I also headcanon that he rocks and bangs his head (which is also canon from 5x05), and chews/bites.

7. what calms them down?

Deep pressure, time alone, stimming

11. how do they prefer to communicate? are they non verbal/have periods of being non verbal? do they use sign language? do they talk? do they prefer text, etc? 

I really like the idea of Fitz using British Sign Language to communicate when he’s nonverbal, or he’s struggling with words.

Autistic Character Asks

[leofitznetwork]

Re: the autistic fitz headcanons ive always wondered if they purposely wrote him kind of autistic cause he has ALWAYS been my fave cause I see a lot of my (high functioning austistic) self in him, especially the Hand Flap of Distress because my mom always jokes she can forget I’m autistic until I do that and she’s like yeaaaaah there it is hahaha

I’m autistic too and can relate a lot to Fitz. I don’t know how much of it was purposely written in vs. Iain’s amazing acting, but I’m happy we have a character like Fitz to relate to.

If you haven’t seen it, @buckysbears has an awesome Autistic Fitz meta here.

 - @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot​

[shanetism]

SO many autistic fitz thoughts and I can't let them out ANYWHEREEEEEEEEE

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

Idk if you are accepting prompts/requests, but since Pride Fitz is coming upon us, would you be inclined to write anything featuring Fitz in a qpr with Hunter and/or Bobbi? Fic, headcanon, bullet fic, whatever you like!

Happy first day of Pride Month!!!!! Here you go:

Untitled Queerplatonic FitzHuntingbird Fic

Fitz has never really understood the concept of friendship and the rules surrounding it, so it’s no wonder that all his friendships turn into something more. It was Simmons who gave him the word for it at the Academy. Queerplatonic. She knows about it because of her aromanticism. He likes the word. He likes having a label.

He doesn’t really know when his friendship with Bobbi and Hunter turns from just friendship to queerplatonic (again, the whole concept of friends vs. other relationships is very confusing), but at some point he recognizes that it has done so.

He goes back and forth, arguing with himself over whether to bring up the label with them. He thinks Bobbi might know what it means, because she’s been discovering that she’s aromantic as well, but he’s not sure if Hunter would.

~*~*~*~

One night, he and Hunter are up late. They’ve had a couple beers and they’re sitting on the couch in the common room watching a documentary on ‘The Mystery Monkeys of Shangri-La’ Hunter had recorded for him. The documentary finishes and Fitz rests his head against Hunter’s shoulder. “I love you,” he tells him, staring at the television screen as the credits scroll past.

“I love you too,” Hunter replies after a short pause.

Fitz tugs on his lip as he ponders the pause. “Not in a sexual way,” he clarifies after thinking it through. “In a queerplatonic way.”

“And I love you in a queerplatonic way,” Hunter says. “I paused ‘cause I was trying to decide if I should make a Star Wars reference or not.”

Fitz lets out a soft laugh as he understands what Hunter is getting at. “Save that for Bobbi,” he advises.

“Oh, we’ve been there, done that,” Hunter tells him.

“TMI,” Fitz says as he gets up.

Hunter stands as well and pulls Fitz into a hug, kissing his cheek. “Goodnight, love.”

“Night.”

~*~*~*~

He never does bring it up with Bobbi. They both just sort of understand without needing to talk about it. It’s obvious in the way they bicker and squabble like siblings, in the way he goes to her for advice, and she comes to him for comfort, in the casual touches they share, and the way their brains just seem to connect.

Fitz enjoys spending time with Bobbi and Hunter separately. He and Hunter argue about football, and Hunter finds that he’s actually interested in the nature documentaries Fitz enjoys, so they have good discussions about those. Fitz likes working out with Bobbi, learning basic self defense skills he’d always been too anxious to learn from May. He likes spending time with her in the lab.

Most of all, he likes it when the three of them spend time together. He likes it when they make meals together and Bobbi and Hunter bicker about the best way to cook mushrooms. He likes it when they cuddle together, and when they play board games together, and he’d even enjoyed that one time when they’d each gotten tipsy and Bobbi convinced them to re-enact Star Wars scenes with her. Bobbi had been Leia, Fitz had been Luke, and Hunter was Han. She’d even somehow managed to charm Mack into playing Chewbacca. He thinks Daisy has video of it somewhere ready to use as blackmail material should the need ever arise.

He never really thinks about how their relationship looks to others. He doesn’t really care about that. He’s happy, and Bobbi and Hunter are happy, and that’s all that matters.

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

Autistic fitz prompt: he goes to the beach for the first time

Turns out the beach is sensory hell for Leo…

Read on AO3

A Trip to the Beach

Leopold Fitz was 4-years-old and he was about to go to the beach for the very first time. Mummy had told him all about it on the train ride to Largs. She’d told him about the sand, and the water, and how he’d be able to smell the salt water. There would be a lot of people there too, she said, since it was a sunny, warm day.

She didn’t mention anything about the monkeys, though. Leo was very excited about seeing the monkeys. His Encyclopaedia of Interesting Monkey Facts had a whole page about Monkey Beach and how friendly the monkeys were with humans. Leo knew he looked human, even though he was really a monkey, and he hoped the monkeys at Monkey Beach would be able to tell the truth.

He held Mummy’s hand as they walked from the train station to the beach. Daddy was behind them carrying their bags. There were a lot of people around. He heard them talking and yelling to each other. He heard the sound of cars driving down the road, occasionally honking their horns. There were a lot of smells too. He wasn’t able to identify most of them, and that bothered him. Several of the smells were very stinky, and Leo wrinkled his nose in disgust. The sun was very bright and it was starting to hurt his skin. He closed his eyes, but then he tripped on the pavement.

Mummy caught him before he could fall. “You need to keep your eyes open, love,” she said. Leo grunted unhappily in response. “Alistair, can you hand me Leo’s sunglasses, please.”

Leo heard Daddy sigh, but soon Mummy was putting something on his face and behind his ears. Leo really didn’t like how the sunglasses pressed painfully on the bridge of his nose, but since they instantly made the world darker and easier to see, he didn’t complain.

“Oh look, we can see the Pencil from here!” Mummy announced. “Do you see it, Leo?” Leo looked to where Mummy was pointing. That Pencil looked much larger than any other pencil Leo had seen. It didn’t look practical for writing at all.

They kept walking, and finally, after what felt like forever, they reached the beach. It was just like Mummy had described: sand, water, the smell of salt, a lot of people. But there were no monkeys that Leo could see. He looked all around as they walked to an empty patch of sand, but there were no monkeys. Maybe they were hiding? Or sleeping? Or maybe the monkeys looked human like him? But his book had shown pictures of monkey-looking monkeys at Monkey Beach.

“Leo, come here,” Mummy said. “I need to put suncream on you.” Leo let out a short scream. Where are the monkeys? “You have to wear the suncream, Leo. You don’t want a sunburn, do you?”

Mummy squirted the suncream into her hand from a bottle and rubbed her hands together before grabbing Leo’s arm and rubbing the suncream in. Leo screamed, ripped the sunglasses off his face, and threw them to the ground. He yanked his arm from Mummy and dropped to the sand, screaming. Where are the monkeys?

“Leopold,” Mummy said as she started rubbing the suncream on him again. “Hush now. You’re okay.”

“Quiet, Leopold!” Daddy ordered when Leo didn’t stop screaming. When Leo didn’t listen, Daddy sighed and told Mummy, “I can’t do this.”

“Alistair, don’t—” Mummy called out, but Daddy was already walking away and didn’t turn around.

Mummy sighed and finished putting the suncream on Leo as best as she could while he was screaming and fighting her. She pulled him into her lap when she was done, hugging him tightly. “There now, love, it’s all done. You’re okay. You’re okay.” Leo smiled at her, exposing his teeth. “I know you didn’t like that, but it’s over now. Do you want to look at your book?”

Leo closed his mouth as Mummy pulled his Encyclopaedia of Interesting Monkey Facts out of their bag. As soon as he could reach it, he grabbed it from her and began flipping through the pages until he came to the one about Monkey Beach.

“Monkey Beach,” Mummy read. Leo pointed at the pictures of the monkeys on the sand and in the water. “Oh, love, did you think there would be monkeys at the beach today?” Leo signed the word monkey in response. “This beach is in Thailand, Leo, which is very far away from Scotland. Only that beach has monkeys, not every beach.” Leo tapped the pictures and signed monkey. “I’m afraid we can’t go to that beach, Leo. It would cost too much money. But we can go see the monkeys in the zoo. What do you think about that?” Leo signed monkey and flapped his hands. “Okay,” Mummy said. She pressed a kiss to the top of Leo’s head. “We’ll plan a trip for your birthday next month.”

Mummy was reading the chapter on capuchins to Leo when Daddy appeared, holding three partially melted ice cream cones. “Sorry,” he said to Mummy as he handed over one of the cones. “I just couldn’t handle the screaming and stares.” He held out a cone to Leo. “Leo, have an ice cream. I got you strawberry. You like strawberries.”

Leo did like strawberries, but this ice cream Daddy had looked nothing like a strawberry. Besides, his book didn’t say anything about monkeys eating ice cream. Monkeys ate fruit, and leaves, and eggs, and bugs.

“Just try it, boy,” Daddy told him as he put the ice cream by Leo’s mouth.

Leo opened his mouth to scream, but Daddy stuck the ice cream in before he could. It was cold. Too cold. And it wasn’t anything like a strawberry at all. Leo shrieked and lashed out, knocking the ice cream out of Daddy’s hand.

Daddy swore and glared at Leo. “Christ, what kind of kid doesn’t like ice cream?”

“He’s just very picky.” Mummy tried to defend him.

Daddy shook his head. “It’s not normal.”

“Thank you for trying, Alistair.”

Daddy nodded and finished his ice cream. “Do you think he’ll fight us if we try to get him in the water?” he asked Mummy.

“I’m not sure,” Mummy answered. “He loves bath time at home.”

Daddy squatted down in front of Leo, who was still sitting in Mummy’s lap. “Leo.” Leo didn’t respond. Daddy pulled his book out of his hands. “Leo, let’s go play in the water.” Leo growled and reached for his book, but Daddy moved it out of his reach. “You can look at your book after.”

“Go on, love,” Mummy encouraged. She took his shoes off before lifting him out of her lap to stand in front of her. “You’ll have so much fun with Daddy.”

Daddy took Leo’s hand and led him through the various beach-goers down the water. Leo eyes it suspiciously as it moved toward him and then away again. “Come on,” Daddy said, tugging at Leo’s hand to get him to move. “It’s fun, isn’t it?” Leo grunted in disagreement. It was not fun. It was cold. He turned and looked back at the beach where his book was. Mummy waved at him. A wave hit his legs and Leo shivered. “Once you get in further, you’ll get used to it,” Daddy said.

Another wave hit his legs. Leo let out a short scream and tried to pull his hand out of Daddy’s grasp so he could run back to Mummy and his book, but Daddy wouldn’t let go. Daddy only let go when Leo started to bite him. The man swore as Leo ran to where Mummy was waiting with a towel.

Daddy followed Leo back to their spot on the sand, not stopping as he told Mummy, “I’m going to find a pub.” Mummy wrapped Leo up in a towel as they watched Daddy walk away.

“Home?” Leo asked Mummy.

“Soon, love,” Mummy promised. She pulled him onto her lap for a cuddle. “Do you like anything about the beach, love?” she asked. Leo flipped through his book to the page about Monkey Beach and pointed to the pictures. “Yes, I know you would like to visit that beach. Maybe one day you will. For now, we’ll just go see the monkeys at the zoo.”

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

Sov, Sov, Sov

For @buckysbears also tagging @jewishfitz Happy Hanukkah, friends!!!

Summary: Fitz's Mum teaches her son how to play the dreidel game.

Read on AO3

Leopold Fitz was seven-years-old and busy building Lego in his bedroom. It was Sunday, which meant that he didn’t have to go to school, and was free to do whatever he wanted (as long as Mummy said it was okay, and it didn’t upset Daddy). He absently rubbed his finger over the dots of a green Lego as he considered what to build next. Maybe he’d ask Mummy if she would take him to the park. That would be fun. He could go up to the top of the climbing frame.

He let go of the Lego and got up, heading to the kitchen where he found Mummy sitting at the table, something spinning in front of her. Leopold was transfixed as he watched the spinning object, his mouth hanging open slightly. It stopped spinning and fell over, and Leopold saw symbols that he didn’t recognize on the sides. “Mummy? What’s that?”

Mummy turned to look at him and opened her arms invitingly. Leopold climbed into her lap and reached out to examine the strange object. It was small and wooden, and each of the four sides had a different symbol painted on.

“It’s called a dreidel,” Mummy explained. “It’s a game. To play, each player has an equal number of pieces, and you take turns spinning the dreidel. Each of the sides has a different meaning that tells you what to do.” She took it from Leopold and showed him one side. “This is shin. It means you add one piece to the pot.” She turned it to the second side. “This is hey. It means you get half of what’s in the pot.” She turned it to the third side. “This is gimel. It means you get everything in the pot.” She turned it a final time. “This is nun. It means you do nothing.”

“Make it spin,” Leopold requested. Mummy put the dreidel on the table and twisted it with her thumb and pointer finger. Leopold stared at it as it spun, relaxing against his mother as he watched. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight, just how he liked.

“Do you remember what that side is called?” Mummy asked once the dreidel had stopped spinning and fallen on one of the sides.

Leopold stuck his fingers in his mouth to chew as he thought. “Hey?” he guessed.

“That’s right!” Mummy squeezed him again and kissed the top of his head. “Would you like to play the game?”

“Okay.”

“Hop up, love, I need to get pieces for us to play with.”

While Mummy went to the pantry, Leopold went to the cupboard next to the oven and opened the door. He found what he wanted and brought it back to the table, sitting it in the middle. Mummy came back with a bag of pretzels, stopping once she noticed the pot in the middle of the table. “Leopold, why-” she began to ask, before stopping and answering herself, “-oh, because I said that we put the pieces in the pot.” She handed the pretzels to Leo. “Count out 15 for each of us, love.”

Leopold did so, giving 15 pretzels to Mummy and keeping 15 for himself. “Now,” Mummy said, “we start by putting one in the pot.” They did so. “And you get to spin first, because you’re the youngest.”

Leopold picked up the dreidel between his fingers and gave it a twist, flapping his hand as he watched it spin. “Gimel?” he asked Mummy once it had landed.

“That’s right; that means you get to take everything in the pot.”

Leopold took the two pretzels out, and then they both put one pretzel in. Mummy spun the dreidel and it landed on nun . They continued taking turns spinning the dreidel until a few particularly lucky spins of Mummy landing on nun several times in a row, and Leopold landing on gimel meant that Leopold won all the pretzels.

“Can I eat them now?” Leopold wanted to know.

Mummy smiled and nodded. “Yes, you can eat them.” She took the pot to the sink and Leopold began spinning the dreidel on the table while he ate his snack. He liked watching it spin. “Did you like that game, Leopold?” Mummy asked once she returned to the table.

“Yes.”

“I played it with my mummy when I was a little girl, during Hanukkah.”

“Hanukkah’s a holiday,” Leopold observed.

“Yes, it is,” Mummy said. “It’s a Jewish holiday.”

“Can I take the dreidel to my room?” Leopold asked. He had finished his pretzels and was tired of talking. He wanted to keep watching the dreidel spin. Mummy nodded and Leopold went to his room.

In the years that followed, Leopold got very good at spinning the dreidel, even figuring out how to spin it so that it landed where he wanted. He and Mum would play the dreidel game frequently, even when it wasn’t Hanukkah time. After his father left, his mum began teaching him more about her childhood faith and the various beliefs, traditions, and holidays. Even though Hanukkah was considered a minor holiday in the Jewish faith, Leopold considered it his favorite, all because of his Mum, a wooden dreidel, and pretzels.

[unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot]

A Bit of Home

Written for @teamengineering‘s Fitz’s Birthday Wish List. I’m so sorry it’s so late! Based on the prompt: A visit with his Mum

Takes place pre-season two

Title changed from A Visit Home to A Bit of Home because I realized I had another fic titled A Visit Home

Read on AO3

Fitz sat on the couch in the common room. A single lamp was on, giving him just enough light to see. It was late. Everyone else was in bed. Fitz should be in bed too, but he wasn’t.

Everything was different. Everything had changed. Fitz didn’t like change. They’d turned his old lab on the Bus into a garage without even asking him. Now he had to work in a new lab. With people he didn’t know. Without Simmons. ‘Cause Simmons had left without even asking him.

She’d stayed through his birthday, and then she’d told him she was going away for awhile—to see her parents. Fitz understood why she wanted to see them; but he didn’t understand why she couldn’t—wouldn’t—take him along too. They’d begun visiting each other's families together while they were still going to the Academy. He liked visiting her parents. Nothing ever changed at the Simmons’ house. And Glasgow was a lot closer to Sheffield than it was to America.

Homesickness rushed over him like a tidal wave. Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision, and he pressed his arm against his eyes as he began to cry quietly. He wanted to go to Glasgow. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his bedroom that hadn’t changed since he left at 16 because his Mum knew better than to change anything without asking, and he wanted to see the park he’d played at as a child with the climbing frame where he’d spent so many hours pretending he was a monkey. Most of all, though, he wanted to see—

A mug was placed on the coffee table in front of him. Fitz swiped his arm across his eyes and looked up to see May standing next to the couch, holding her own mug.

“I want my mum,” he blurted out, and he didn’t care if he sounded like a child. “Simmons—Simmons went to see her parents; I want to go see my mum.”

“Okay,” was all that May said.

Fitz gaped at her. “Okay?” he echoed, cocking his head slightly in confusion.

“Okay,” May repeated. “I’ll make arrangements.”

Fitz picked up the mug, not quite believing that she actually would follow through. May typically meant what she said, but Fitz still didn’t want to get his hopes up only to be disappointed. He took a sip and found that it was tea, exactly as sweet as he preferred. “Thank you.”

Several days later, Fitz was on a plane to Scotland. May came too, which he thought would bother him, but it turned out he didn’t mind the company.

“Too bad we couldn’t use the—the Bus,” he commented not long after takeoff. “We’d get there faster and more—erm—more com—comfor—more—” he stopped, unable to get the word out.

“Yes, the Bus would be more comfortable,” May agreed, “but we can’t use it until we figure out the cloaking.”

Fitz tapped his fingers against the armrest as his insides twisted in a guilty reminder of his failures. “I’ve almost got it. I just—I just need more—more time.” He sighed and dug around in his backpack for his headphones.

~*~*~*~

It had been decided that Mum wouldn’t meet them at the airport for safety reasons. Fitz was rather glad for that because he knew there would be no way to stop from crying as soon as he saw her, and it was less embarrassing to cry in the privacy of his childhood home. Those walls had seen plenty of tears from both of them over the years.

They took a taxi from the airport. Fitz fidgeted in his seat the entire ride, legs bouncing, fingers tapping, eyes looking out all the windows as they passed by familiar and unfamiliar landmarks. There was a Starbucks that hadn’t been there the last time Fitz had visited, and the Chinese restaurant he’d eaten many meals at was closed. His house looked the same, though, so that was a relief. The bushes and trees and flowers had grown. Fitz took a picture to send to Jemma while May got their bags.

The front door opened and his Mum ran out, straight to Fitz. They wrapped their arms around each other, clinging tight, and that’s when the tears came. “Oh, my boy,” his Mum cried, “my beautiful boy!”

“Mum.”

May had them move inside after noticing nosy Mrs. Keller peeking through the curtains from across the street. They went to the kitchen where Fitz’s Mum had tea ready for them along with a plate of Fitz’s favorite chocolate digestives.

“You must be Agent May,” Fitz’s Mum said as she poured the tea. “I’m Ellie; it’s so nice to meet you.” May gave her a small smile as she accepted the cup handed to her.

Neither Fitz nor May were feeling very talkative after their long flight, so Ellie filled the silence, talking about the lives of various friends and neighbors while Fitz ate too many of the biscuits and May listened politely, instinctively filing away any bits of useful information Ellie shared.

“Oh, how I’ve been nattering on,” Ellie said as they finished their tea. “You two must be tired after that long flight. Leopold, you’re in your old bedroom, of course, and Agent May, you’ll be in the guest room. I’ll show you where it is.”

There were pictures lining the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Most were of Fitz as a child; some were of what May assumed were other relatives such as grandparents. May stopped to look more closely at a picture of a young Fitz, probably about 5-years-old, standing in front of a monkey enclosure at a zoo. He wore a somber expression and there was a blur around his chest.

“He was so excited to see the monkeys,” Ellie commented when she saw which picture May was looking at. “I couldn’t get him to stop flapping his hands long enough for me to take a picture.”

May gave her another small smile and they continued on to the guest room.

~*~*~*~

Fitz began taking the tea things to the sink to start washing up while Mum showed May to the guest room. One of the mugs fell from his hand and shattered on the floor. Fitz froze, staring down at the evidence of his damaged, broken body. He couldn’t even do something as simple as washing up, or get his body to move and go find the broom. He just stood there. Staring. How useless was he?

Ellie entered and took in the broken mug, and how Fitz was standing there, not moving. “Did you get stuck, love?” she asked. Fitz didn’t respond. “I’m going to bring you to your bedroom, where your weighted blanket is,” Ellie told him. She took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. Fitz laid down on his bed and she covered him with his weighted blanket. “Is that better?” Fitz still didn’t respond, so she went back to the kitchen to clean up the mug.

~*~*~*~

Fitz blinked, staring up at the ceiling. He was slowly becoming aware of what was happening around him. There was pressure on top of him. That was good. He could hear someone in the kitchen. Mum, probably. He hoped. He wasn’t sure what May would think if she saw him like this. She’d seen him have a meltdown before, but he hadn’t had a shutdown in front of her that he could remember.

He focused on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. He looked around his bedroom, eyes landing on the poster hanging on the wall across from him.  It was a picture of space. His mum had got it for his 15th birthday. I’m gonna take that back to the Playground he decided. Maybe having a bit of home there will make the change easier.

Mum entered with a glass of water, which she placed on the bedside table next to him. “I brought you water,” she said. Fitz brought his fingertips up to his chin to say thank you. Technically he was supposed to move his hand away from his chin too, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“Can I stay with you?” Mum asked.

Fitz managed a nod. She sat down on the bed next to him and began running her fingers through his hair.

“Agent Coulson came to see me,” she told him, “after your—” she paused, trying to figure out the right word, “—injury. I wanted to come see you, or have your transferred to one of the hospitals here, but he said it was too dangerous because of the Hydra threat.” She was quiet for a moment, and Fitz closed his eyes, soothed by the feeling of her hand on his head. “I’m thankful you were able to come to me.”

Me too Fitz thought to himself. At some point over the next couple days, Fitz would talk to his mum: tell her about Simmons, and how she’d gone, and how things kept changing around him, and how frustrated he felt all the time. But for the moment, they were quiet. They just existed together in a comfortable, familiar way. They were a mother and her son. He was home.