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#both gay and neurodivergent
danothan · 9 months
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knight terrors is fucking killing it lately
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editonic · 11 months
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alhaitham and kaveh are neurodivergent and each other's special interest
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wolfstrong · 1 year
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childhood best friends Willow and Xander :)
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tmnt2k3vnproject · 1 year
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Leo and Mikey doing some reading
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pwurrz · 10 months
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damn. kaveh and alhaitham really are adhd vs autism huh
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I am OBSESSED with season 2 Azriphale and Crowley.
That scene where Azriphale melts down because he lied about something…. that hits so hard as an autistic person.
And Crowley just acting like it’s fine.
Every person deserves a partnership like that.
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grechkathekasha · 1 year
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jillian is autistic and she loves to share all of her science hyperfixations with suzanne who can’t understand shit but listens
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imagine:
dr.salvius is bringing more awareness and acceptance to such topics as women in stem, neurodivergency (and more specific things about autism, her experience, like being diagnosed with aspergers but how this term is not valid at all, etc) and homosexuality, being so inspiring for a lot of women, young girls and gay/neurodivergent folks
(while her very polite tactical nun wife breaks ableist’s kneecaps as a hobby. along with mass murder of homophobes ofc❤️)
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testimonypops · 1 year
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I truly believe the Submas are the Squid Sisters for neurodivergent people who liked Pokémon instead of Splatoon
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graniteknight · 3 months
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I have a very bad habit of poorly explaining nk episodes to the point ep4 is just “clay being autistic about the knights code for around 22 minutes..” GOD I actually love the knights code episode unironically, because it’s just very.. DUMB?!? (in a way that I fucking love clay being a dumbass for the shits n giggles)
I wish truly I could explain how much I think clay is majorly neurodivergent (because HE IS?!?) and it’s actually insane. (I love him dearly)
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lourdesdeath · 7 months
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There's literally no way in hell that Ford Pines wasn't a Spock fanboy.
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Thinking about the moment a group of trans women ran into me in my therapist’s waiting room and thought I was a trans woman and asked me how long I’d been out, and the times I’ve been mistaken for a guy over the years, and the cult counselor who saw me in a slightly girly shirt and said “Oh, you’re actually pretty,” and how two separate groups of my girl friends got me femme clothes for my graduation ceremonies so I wouldn’t look out of place. Thinking about how my therapist asked me how I felt about the trans women congratulating me and I said “…good? They were nice?” and how my mom got embarrassed for teenage me being called a nice young man and how that was what first clued me in to most people being more attached to their gender perception. Thinking about how I’ve internalized all the ways female roommates tried to fix my look. Feeling like this is a good time to reclaim some more of my joy in androgyny. Going into 2023, I’ll be out there confusing people.
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thatshadowgastwhore · 2 years
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shadowgast is a delightful ship because it blends, cradlerobber/graverobber so that you aren’t sure who is who.  Like, yeah sure, Essek is 120, but for elves, that’s like, an early twenties grad student and of course Caleb is 33, but he only lived for about 22 of those.  Is Essek hundreds of years older than Caleb? Is Caleb a decade older than Essek? Who fucking knows, both are amazing. Craddlerobber/Graverobber but it’s ambiguous who is who is lovely, and apparently my preferred ship dynamic, because as I was brain rotting about this I realized that Solangelo is also one of my favorite ships and I mean....is Nico in his seventies? Is he 13 or 14? Unclear! But he’s dating Will and it’s great! So like, if you’re a critical role fan, then read Percy Jackson, and if you’re a Percy Jackson fan, watch critical role campaign two, because you get gay men with a weirdly specific ship dynamic in both
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So like, we all know that scene in season two where Will is being sedated and he's screaming, right? And we know how Mike covers his ears when Will screams because that's his "best friend" in pain and he doesn't want to hear him like that. That scene always gets me because it's so meaningful.
And even for the anti Bylers, you could say Mike is covering his ears do to sensory issues and him being neurodivergent. There is a lot of talk about him being autistic, which is possible, but he might just have a problem with sound as a whole without an actual diagnoses.
Or he could be both gay and neurodivergent. Anyways, if you're ever stuck in a situation like this, cover your ears- it'll make the scene less traumatic :)
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revelisms · 8 months
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In her weakest moments, she does not dare reveal how hope lays a noose about her throat, and squeezes—unforgiving, unwanted, metal blistered on the tongue—with the thought she may belong; may be worthy, for all her faults; may be anything more than what she dreads and yearns for—
(A girl seen for her strength, a sister able to stand on her own two legs, a daughter (again again never again)—
A homestead, crawling free on shaken limbs.)
And that hope feels like a battered hand wrapped in linen, bloodied; like a heart beat-beating, beat-beating ugly drums in her chest.
A fire, blue-glittered and bruising—
Falling.
He writes letters to her: dagger-sharp swipes of quilled pens, elegant; juniper-chill of neat gin, stirred to an inken hand.
We cannot claim to know the horizons from these vantage points below — cannot force ourselves to grow wings, when they were already clipped from us. But so are our lives in this world, child. So have they always been. Never let it inhibit you. In time, you will find yours.
Countless letters—reminders, stanzas, notes—folded and tucked beneath the latch of her door, beneath the midday-breakfast he leaves on the staff kitchen table, beneath the welding plate in her workshop; letters she cradles, crushes, smears smooth.
(And how would you know? she wants to carve back: neon-spitting violent hate.)
In a hundred different ways, he tells her he loves her—and yet cannot manage the words I love you, in any of their forms.
He hands her specially-wrapped parcels: paints and guns and tailor-made coats. He learns which meals she will spit out, and which she will savor. He lays a gloved hand upon her shoulder, when the crowds begin to bare their teeth: a tether, a blanket, a reassurance. He leaves room for her, unasked, on the days that are wretched and empty and dark, when she wants nothing more than to sit with someone, anyone—anyone who will have her.
He cannot manage the words I love you.
What he says, instead:
You are a marvel—
The greatest limitation we face sits only with ourselves.
(Her own wretchedness the nail she can never wrench out.)
You can achieve wonders the spirits alone could fathom—
This reparation, this rebirth, our people are owed.
(And what is she, within it? A vehicle for it all? Nothing more than a bullet waiting to be fired?)
You are not defined by your destruction—
This is our genesis; our revolution.
(Her genesis had rained in fire and smoke; her genesis had devoured all in its wake.)
You're strong, now.
Sometimes, that is a comfort enough. But only just.
She wants him to hold her. Wants him to smile, fully: shark-teeth glinting sly and unabashed. To snicker with her, cradle her hand blithely into the crook of his arm and sweep her off the streets, out of her own head, into shops and theatres and galas and lecture-halls; to greet her with open arms and a tired Good morning, instead of a gruff When shall I expect you, for dinner? in passing; wants him to be Vi—
(But Vi didn't want her, either. Didn't need her.
Vi told her to stay away—)
So of course she doesn't believe it, doesn't allow herself to, when he rests a cold hand behind her ear: draws her into the soot-smoke earthen-spice of his collar: lets her cry into the silk of his clothes, for as long as the tears demand of her, and does not push her away.
(How could she?)
Of course she refuses, when he leafs through a collection of yellow-paged folktales, legs crossed atop his dark comforters and his voice a dry, drousing drawl: awake for two hours too long now, but not shooing her out, not until she's ready—until the voices have quieted, lulled her mind to dim flickering, heavy on the pillow beneath her ratty hair and the bony shoulder against her cheek and her chipped nails a mangled cat's-paw at his sleeve.
(Why would he?)
Of course she denies, when he shields her with the tall line of his back: wields knives and pistols as naturally as another limb, to ward off any threats that could cross their path—and denies again, when he cups a blood-stained palm too firmly to her cheek, his body still in one piece (always), still put together (broken, but never shattered), red glossed through the fibers of his fancy suits yet not enough to care, huffing Are you alright Are you alright Are you alright—?
He cannot manage the words I love you.
But in a frail voice, firm voice, embers in the dark, he says:
You are my daughter. I'll never forsake you.
(And how could she have known? How could she have known?)
But she'd never managed the words either, had she? Never dared to. Never tried.
(So how, too, could he?)
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jinx and silco / a daughter
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katya-goncharov · 1 year
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why is it that both queer and neurodivergent characters are so much more convincing when they're not intentionally written to be queer or neurodivergent
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Yall ever think about how you came out and how cringe it was lol. Because every once in a while I remember that I came out to one of my best friends while driving around our town and giving an 40 minute explanation on the Fear Street trilogy. I was so obsessed with it that it spiraled me into a sexuality crisis and ended the rant by basically saying the movies made me realize I was a lesbian. And she didn’t know what to do with herself after the insane info dump that came out of me.
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