#it’s so obvious that i either have autism or add or like something

[shivroyslut]

my life would’ve been fixed if any educator or caretaker in my early childhood just looked at my behaviour and went hmm maybe this child should get tested for something

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hallo! Could I possibly request a Tim Drake x M!Reader?

Seeing your autistic reader mirroring the batboys. I think it would be funny seeing the other Batboys (+ Batman maybe), react to reader and Tim mirroring eachother.

Maybe it doesn't start right away, but builds up steam over time. It starting with them rocking back in forth in sync while bouncing off info from an going case, to them picking up mannerisms.

Then maybe continued with their wardrobes becoming so mixed up, they just have double the clothes.

______

Honsetly, the thought of Damien being creeped out by Tim and Reader lifting their cups of coffee or energy drinks up in unison, makes me laugh harder than it should.

That or Bruce seeing Reader and Tim mirroring eachothers fighting style for the frist time and just like, 'what the fuck???'. Because, he probably tested Damien for autism snice they are blood, it's generic. Maybe, Dick for ADHD.

Then, it just slipped his mind to get Tim tested or even see the signs of autism in Tim. Because Bruce is autistic, so would just look at Tim and think, 'Yup, that's normal development .'

- Crow

Tim Drake x autistic male reader

Headcanons

Funny thing is I hc that pretty much the entire batfam is on the autism spectrum in some way or another. Bruce is autistic , Dick has ADHD or ADD, Jason has ASD or ODD, Tim is autistic, Damian is autistic and mild OCD.

Is this me projecting onto my comfort characters? Yes, yes it is. But come on, look at the batfam and tell me there isn’t at least a little tism in all of them.

You are also very right in Bruce just not noticing the signs in most of his kids since he’s autistic himself and that behavior is the norm for him. Alfred was most likely the one who had Bruce tested when he was younger, so it would have to be Alfred who steps in and advises them to get checked out, just in case.

Tim just happens to slip under the radar, maybe because of the stress at the time he joined the family, or they were all just too busy at the time, so it just slipped their minds.

Tim is also very good as masking, having grown up with his parents, acting “strange” wasn’t allowed, so he’s mastered the skill of hiding his less approved quirks. So, you’ll never see him stimming or rocking in public, or around people for that matter.

It was only after you two started dating and became very close that he started to let it slip, unconsciously of course. But it’s because he doesn’t feel the need to hide around you, and you are one of his comfort people.

The family doesn’t fully notice in the beginning as Tim grows more comfortable not masking and starts mirroring you. Infodumping is a common occurrence in the family, especially with the type of work they do, so when Tim is talking to you about cameras or his favorite band in extreme detail, They just think it’s a normal happening.

Damian is the first to notice, and he would think you two are trying to punk him somehow. When you and Tim always do things in tandem, picking up your drinks at the same time, always pushing your chairs back and getting up together, using the same type of glass or plates, etc.

He wouldn’t confront either of you obviously, since he doesn’t want to play into your hands. But then your mirroring becomes even more obvious. Like mirroring stims, meaning Tim starts stimming the same way you do.

Do you flap your hands? Tim now does too. Verbal stims? Catch Tim making the same noises over comms during patrol. You both also come to enjoy the same textures if you don’t already, because those textures remind you of each other.

It finally clicks for Bruce when he sees Tim and you wearing each other’s clothes and using stim toys, whilst rocking back and forth on the couch, excited to see your comfort movie. It makes Bruce want to facepalm because it’s been so obvious this entire time.

When he asks Alfred about it, the Brit just gives him a bland look whilst saying something along the lines of “Master Bruce, I thought it was obvious from the start”, because Bruce has a habit picking up kids with the tism.

After that Tim finally gets tested and gets his diagnosis. Not that it changes anything other than what’s on paper. But it does help Tim feel better, as in the past he probably struggled with feeling wrong or like he didn’t fit in.

When Damian also realizes you two weren’t trying to dupe him, he settles with his arms crossed and huffs, saying that of course that was the reason since you two couldn’t get the upper hand on him anyways.

The entire fam shares fidget toys or different coping things. The house is stocked with everyone’s comfort food, clothes, media, etc. The walls are made so sound doesn’t pass through them, the fridge and electronics are also upgraded so they don’t make those buzzing sounds. It’s like autism heaven.

You also are included since your dating Tim, and you two are very happy together. The family is also thankful in you helping Tim come out of his shell, even though neither of you realized you were doing it.

[annon-secretcave]

Sonadow, Sonamy...

OK so we all know that there's a civil mid-joke war inside the Sonic Fandom about preferences between Sonadow and Sonamy, right?

And yeah I don't care barely at all about ships or ship wars and stuff, and everyone can have their opinion! But as someone who loves to relate the lore to everything because autism I really like analyzing things and it helps me understand everything better, I thought to maybe give all the canon/non-emotions related stuff to explain how these relationships, friends or something more (spoiler alert, something more does not exist in canon), work inside canon and how they would work in the far future.

REMINDER THAT THIS WILL NOT SIDE WITH EITHER SIDE MUCH UNTIL THE END ("In my humble opinion..." part)

THERE'S ALSO AN ANALYSIS! But at the end, since it's more of a personal analysis that is not fully factual, just a study of the characters.

Yeah so here it goes...

(Everything with a "*" means that it will be explained at the end with the more "sonic" stuff, less related to the ship.)

Sonamy

Realistically, Amy was created to be more of "just an addition to the Sonic team" with more female representation. She started off as just Sonic's girlfriend or love interest, even though he never showed as much interest for her as she did for him. In short, her interest in him did show since she made her first appearance, clearly showing that that would be the main or most shown romantic relationship in the franchise.

At the beginning, she was completely a Sonic fangirl and had much interest in him, specifically shown in shows or some comics... but as they realized the potential of the character, they stopped making her whole reason to be there sonic, changing it slightly, but still firing the character. This also meant that they stopped making her be "madly in love" or that interested in sonic, who was never interested in the first place. This, outside of the franchise is clearly the creators noticing the potential of a character with a heart as big as Amy's, but inside of the franchise it was probably her maturing (going from typical teenage romance-obsessed phase to just a normal crush), which was (ok this one thing is my opinion, yeah...) a big improvement to the character, to give her a story, more personality...

Now, about the ship itself... Sonamy has always been one-sided, or at least in most cases. And this had been stated and was seen clearly throughout the franchise (ok realistically I did not watch sonic boom but that one is not really canon in the main story which is the one that I am talking about). At first, maybe it was not shown in a very modern or uh... less obvious way... but listen the 90's are the 90's ok. but they showed it nonetheless. So, respectfully, Sonamy has not been canon from both sides clearly in most of the canon storyline.

Sorry Sonamy shippers...

(further study of this ship is after Sonadow, but that is a more personal review so I understand if you are not so interested)

(I'd add a single picture of these two but all I can find is FANART...)

Sonadow

So yeah I think we can all accept that no matter how gay it looks we have no proof that they are canon with facts and from a less biased point of view...

We have Sonic's line "I heart you too, Shadow" hope that's enough to feed ya xd

Nah but seriously there is an analysis to these two, it's just not that based in facts and hints like Sonamy had.

The analysis...

Now that the factual part has been explained, let's see this from a more Sonic POV, okay?

Sonic

Sonic is a character that likes to do everything, achieve everything, and be the fastest. His quote is quite literally "Gotta go fast". Of course, in a relationship, he would, not only be interested in, but also need, someone who can "keep up", as toxic as that sounds. He does not really need someone as fast as him, just someone that he can trust to be there by his side at every fight (or most of them), someone who will be at his level enough to fight by his side, otherwise it would be too dangerous. Something else that I've noticed is that the ones he is closest with, or has shown more attachment towards, are also people that can keep him with his feet on the ground, people that know when and how to say "You are not going to do this" and convince him, or, people to just keep him company and remind him who he is when he forgets (and, hey, it's Sonic, he also likes to have a few laughs).

As coincidental as that sounds, being able to both keep up and slow him down are traits that both characters mentioned earlier fulfil (yeah maybe Shadow more specifically... but shut up this is also supportive for Sonamy shippers ok LET THEM BE HAPPY LET THEM ALL BE HAPPY)

In any case, Sonic is a free-spirited supersonic hedgehog that will go wherever he wants whenever he wants, he helps people that are in trouble if he has the chance, and will fight and laugh alongside people who were once, currently are, or have tried to keep up. But being in a relationship itself is more effort than occasional visits, and Sonic knows that; he will be in a relationship with someone that can "keep up" and stand by him for the good of both of them. Obviously, he will also give, put in the effort to make the relationship work, but he knows who, when he gives 50, can give back 50, and those are people that will keep up with his adventures.

In my opinion... (the logic of the analysis applied to my train of thought, this is more biased from now on)

Sonamy

I understand why people see these two as a cute couple. Honestly, it makes sense. She does fulfil most of the traits and he does fulfil many of her expectations, from what I have seen of her...

But it's the keeping up part. Amy is a kind, warm hedgehog who loves nature and loves protecting nature. I have always had the feeling that, at some point (when she's a young adult probably), she would get a small house, near a natural area, where all her friends are, and stay there to protect them in that area. She would stay in one place that would fully grow on her and she would spend all her life there, protecting what she wishes to fight for and taking care of nature, as well as some visits every now and then to her friends if they are far away.

Sonic does not seem to like physical affection too much, except for certain moments with certain people, and the way Amy keeps asking for affection might make him uncomfortable or even bore him most of the time. In a relationship? It might just bore Sonic too much, and Amy would not change to much anyway...

I have never been a fan of the concept of a one-sided ship, due to how toxic it can be. But there is something about the way that Amy, even with her crush, respects Sonic's boundaries, that makes me feel like this is the one single one-sided ship I find interesting and perfect as it is. Sonic is not uncomfortable with her, on the contrary, he enjoys spending time with her a lot, but when she goes to a more romantic mode, he does seem more uncomfortable in most cases.

Plus... this one small part is way more of a personal opinion, but Amy staying single and possibly being a single mother feels very in-character and sweet.

Sonadow

Shadow. As cryptic as he chooses to be at times, he has shown that he cares about Sonic before, which for the character, someone who lost everything in a person who meant the universe to him, is quite a lot. He has been open- or as open as he can be- with Sonic before, which clearly makes their friendship-rivalry slightly more different that his relationship with other people. Shadow's only "problem" is that at times he cannot express himself well.

They respect each other, even if they don't always show it. They care about each other, and even admire some actions the other does. Their rivalry is not toxic, it's just competitive.

Shadow does have the traits that Sonic would be most interested in, like Amy, but in his case, he is less feeling, but he can definitely keep up and even slow Sonic down. He has followed him when he thought he could put the world or himself in dagger multiple times, but he has not shown that well his ability to encourage Sonic (yeah no he has his own way with words and that way is not saying anything, much less to someone with Sonic's high self-esteem)

Sonic loves excitement and enjoying life to the last minute, doing everything that might sound extreme just for fun. He has always admired Shadow's power and angry determination, and found him and his powers amazing, even if he won't admit it. Shadow doesn't mind living extreme situations at all, apparently even enjoying certain activities that involve the excitement of a battle of any kind. Sonic finds that part of Shadow fun to mess with, and Shadow either doesn't care or is barely angry, but actually, in a way, enjoys having someone to fight or just spend time with that won't push any emotional talk or physical signs of affection too much.

Apart from that, my pov again for the future, both of them could make great parents, and their relationship in a family could be interesting since they already act like a married couple xd but then again, Sonic does not seem like the kind of person who will just have a kid unless something "eye-opening" or lifechanging happens to him.

Conclusion

But then again this is just an analysis that would be in case he would settle with either of them for life, so it might not be the best if we are just keeping them with their current age or a bit older xd

Plus, this is more related to their personalities, facts and lore... since I'm not the most adequate to judge how romantic and other kinds of attraction work haha (aroace nation rISE)

Also, as un-biased as this is, this still has a bit of personal opinion, so don't take it too canon and stuff

And remember everyone had the right to have their own opinions, even if we don't like them. Respect everyone and their opinions! They aren't hurting anyone anyway, right? (unless it's something highly immoral or just straight up not legal worldwide)

So yeah, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if you ship Sonamy, Sonadow or something else, we're all just having fun after all, and if you insult people's opinion you're just being the angry bully in the playground who steals toys and breaks them because it's fun for them, a bitch.

Sonic's got 2 hands after all, ammaright

(this is totally official art trust not al all made in 2 minutes in board with a mouse)

[dirtytransmasc]

I don't see it talked about enough (outside of Song of the Banshees) but the whole thing with the recoms kinda brings up a philosophical conversation about the nature of cloning in terms of identity, and whether Quaritch is really Quaritch.

Like he has the memories, but they aren't his, are they?

There do seem to be some key differences between Colonel Miles Quaritch the human, and Miles Quaritch the recom.

Like from the source material that I can find, human Quaritch didn't really seem to care all that much about his kid, and we kinda see that when he first wakes up as he doesn't seem to ask about Spider at all. You'd think a parent, knowing that how that war ended, would want to know about the fate of their child.

But then, when the recom's come across the kids and Quaritch realizes it's Spider, you start to see the change. It's slow at first but even in the beginning, he does things that I'm not 100% the old human Quaritch would have done. The big one for be is that he doesn't push Spider to give up the Sully's and respects Spider's loyalty to them, and frankly, I don't think human!Quaritch would have.

Bringing Spider along is also interesting for me because sure it serves a purpose, but it's also relatively risky. Tracker in the mask aside, Spider could have easily led them into a veritable death trap.

Then we have that clip, the one with Spider ducking under Miles' arms and him smiling at Spider when he does it. The body language (something I'm usually shit at reading because of autism) reminds me of a father finding amusement in something their kid did.

It's all the little things that add up for me that don't match up with the Quaritch from the first movie.

Giving Spider the dog tags. I have family who served and giving someone their dog tags is not a small thing. (One family member used their dog tags to propose to their partner after their last tour.)

That first time in the interrogation room (where he gives him the dog tags) it's obvious that Quaritch is being mindful of his strength when grabbing Spider and once Spider 'calms down' a bit, he makes an effort to be non-threatening.

Spider is with them for months, and not only does he still dress and act like a na'vi, he still has his blue stripes. Quaritch doesn't make him dress in human clothes, doesn't correct his behaviour in regard to the climbing/crouching, and someone had to either get the paint for Spider or let him gather it himself, and then help him apply it.

Quaritch burns the villages instead of killing any of the metkayina. He planned to -he was going to- but he didn't because Spider begged him not to.

watching the premade identity the RDA created devolve and fade away, slowly being replaced by who we know as recom quaritch was so interesting and well done, even if by chance, not intentional.

they are clearly 2 different people, human and recom quaritch, with the 'identity' that makes up the recom when he first wakes up, "the puppet" as I typically dub it, being the transition between the two.

spider was the breaking point, he broke through the haze, caused recom quaritch to form contradicting memories, thoughts, opinions to the "puppet" identity, compromising him.

I think spider also 'woke up' some memories in recom quaritch. I think with the uploaded memories, they put emphasis on certain things, things that would help make a better "puppet" or toy soldier. I think they would make other memories dormant, not wanting to risk wiping them completely which could raise alarm, even in the best made soldier, he is still conscious. I think seeing his son, woke up some of those fonder memories, ones not of war times, and it started a domino effect.

we start to see him act more "human" he stops acting so cold and detached, the anger dials back a bit when he has moments to back away form his mission, he has empathy and mercy.

he connects to eywa's creatures (his ikran) and claims her the way any other na'vi would, he proves himself worthy. he shows mercy to the metkayina. he shows true care and love for his son.

he makes so many risks to keep spider at his side, as he flip-flops between 'identities' as if both sides are fighting for control. even if its a subconscious battle, it's clear he's devolving.

he is truly having the most classic clone crisis, "to be or not to be", fight or obey, do whats right and risk it all or let it happen and stay numb.

[catgirlforeskin]

I always find games that try to simulate people or society very interesting because, though all games reflect the beliefs of their creators to some degree, the only thing these simulators are is a reflection of someone or a team’s ideas about how people and the world work.

In Call of Duty, there’s still the obvious thumbprint of ideology, there’s the reason you always play as NATO forces and never against, but the main thing the game wants to simulate is guns, how they look and sound and feel, and that’s fairly cut-and-dry. But when your core simulation is an economy, or city infrastructure, or interpersonal relationships, you don’t get that.

The game I’m most interested in with this is Rimworld, in large part because it’s mostly a one-person project, and it’s on a more intimate level than something like Cities: Skyline. It also has an expansion called “Ideology” where every faction now has an intricate belief system (where you can also customize your own) where it’s fairly obvious that the creator has, at best, weird ideas about how governance and gender and sexuality and bigotry work.

And while there’s been writing on that already, what I really want to talk about is how this reflection doesn’t go one way, because the game has a huge modding scene that’s extremely accessible, and while many mods are quality of life features or just silly additions, a lot are active disagreements with the way the game constructs people and society, whether it’s overhauling how mental illness is coded, or how relationships form, or trying to add the ability to be trans and non-binary

And then these mods are often in conversation with each other, either building off of each other or outright competing, because even the most well-meaning additions still have to contend with the fact that translating the human experience into code is never going to go perfectly.

For example, I don’t use the biggest mod that adds trans people to the game, even though I obviously want us there, because the way it systemizes dysphoria and what transition means is in total conflict with my experiences.

A lot of the mods that add/change mental illness or disorders end up very imperfect, but there’s one mod’s version of autism that I love because, in addition to the basic stuff like “this character gets stressed by large groups or people trying to talk to her too often,” it also makes it so the character just straight up follow orders you give her, and she’ll get mad that you had the audacity to try disrupting her routine. She might do it later when she finishes her other tasks, or she might just never do it. I based a character on my wife and her little person hates the feeling of a rifle slung over her shoulder and will only pick up her gun when she absolutely needs it. She also won’t wear her proper helmet and instead wears a shittier one because she likes how it looks more.

And sure, the mod isn’t perfect, no effort to take the complexity of a person and simplify it into code can be, but to everyone who has ever had a game try to define you out of existence and fought back, I love you. Whether it’s the trans woman who dubbed over all of Jedi: Fallen Order because EA didn’t care enough to put women in, or my friend that I spent hours with figuring out how to replace all our soldiers in some indie rts game with women, or the countless modders for the Sims and Rimworld and every other game that simulates people who tried to make people who felt truer to themselves and those they loved, and everyone inbetween, I love you. I love you, and I’m glad I’m not alone in that fight

[blubushie]

Monsieur Blu, your blorbo opinions on Sniper are very accurate, and I would like to add on to the discussion of why mischaracterisations are so common.

I do apologize if my wording in this makes me sound like a pretentious cunt, this is simply how my brain uses words when writing something thoughtful.

Preface: your opinions, although very good and accurate, are not canon, for they aren't explicitly depicted or shown or mentioned within canon. So I won't be calling them canon, but rather, canon-compliant. That is, your characterization of Sniper as a bushman, who is a strict proffesional hitman, who lives in a modified Land Rover series 1 with a cabover camper, is not wrong. In fact, all of that is literally canon. But there are few things that are genuinely, no ifs and or buts about it, rigidly canon. And, because of the nature of tf2's story, so much of what we can gather about the characters outside of the rigid canon is simply that- gathered assumptions. Like, we can gather that Sniper has absolutely spent time alone in the bush, and that he prioritizes thinking of things in a logical and practical mannor, rather than prioritizing thinking about what counts as "civilised" and "appropriate", especially in social contexts. He does what he has to, and is comfortable in doing those things basically shamelessly. For example: He abruptly headshot csniper, point blank, completely starkers. And proceeded to walk about, completely starkers. After sitting down next to spy and casually having a smoke with him, completely starkers. But none of what I wrote before the example is explicitly said, it's all gathered info. Sniper isn't shown skinning a rabbit and sorting through its meat and bones and viscera in order to eat and save the extras for later. He isn't shown tracking and hunting game. He isnt shown drinking the bitterest coffee to grace the earth, or smoking pot. And although some things seem obvious and make the most amount of sense, or seem incredibly accurate to his character, to the point where that thing is basically canon, my autism does not allow me to ignore the distinction. And so, I call it canon-compliant. Mostly for my own peace of mind. Yes. Rant over. Onwards.

I think the whole uwu blushes madly gulps loudly and stutters like a broken record thing comes from the Basic Knowledge you gain of Sniper's character. Through either playing the game and interacting and consuming canon content like the comics and whatnot, or through interacting with and consuming fan content through tumblr or twitter or fanfics, etc.

The latter being much more likely to lead to mischaractarisations of characters. In fandom, folks obviously have their own interpretations of literally everything, but there are some common themes that I suppose would be called fanon (an implicit collection of concepts and ideas that are often used in fan depictions of characters, but don't explicitly exist (or often don't exist at all) in the real storys canon.), that have become very common over the around 12 years that tf2 has had a storyline.

Now, there was a poll conducted a bit ago on tumblr that asked about the tf2 fandom's interraction with canon. How many people actually played tf2? How many people read the comics? How many people do both? How many people do neither and only interract with tf2 through fandom and fanfiction?

And that last one got a surprisingly large percentage of votes. So it's safe to say that fanon definitely has quite a bit of significance within the fandom, and it's not just an insulated thing that gets shared around a group of people. I'd say, in fact, that newcomers to tf2 are far more likely to be exposed to fanon than they are to be exposed to canon/canon-compliant ideas.

And oftentimes, the Basic Knowledge one gathers about Sniper upon consuming fan content, is as follows:

- Reclusive and quiet

- Awkward

- Tall and lanky

- Deep voice

- Speaks strine

- Lives in a camper

- Pisses in jars

- Cherishes proffesionalism

- Hates spies

And most of that is not... technically wrong. Although it is a very shallow, uncritical, reductive analysis of Sniper's character, it's not wrong. But because of how much time all of that has spent marinating within fandom, parts become exagerated or ignored. And what was once a very basic understanding of the character, becomes the understanding of the character, alongside a myriad of added tropes and ideas. All of it becomes further and further removed from canon.

It's like trying to draw something from memory 20 times over the course of 2 years. You spend a good hour studying what you're about to draw, but after that, you never see the thing again, you never reference the original source material again. It's completely from memory now. You're going to forget some parts, you're going to add on new parts, you're going to explore new ideas, you're subconsciously going to be influenced by the media and content you consume, which tends to change over the years. Your drawings will likely start to resemble the source material less and less.

And every once in a while, you may catch a glance at the thing you've been drawing from memory, and you get a refresher as to what it actually looks like. And maybe from then on you'll draw it more accurately to the source material. Or maybe you'll ignore it, and continue drawing the thing your way, because you've come to like the changes and additions you've applied to it over the months.

Or, you'll see someone else draw the thing in a different but intriguing way, a stylised way, and you find yourself adopting aspects of how they drew the thing in the intriguing and stylised way. You'll adopt the way they make things more angular and rough. Or the way they crosshatch meticulously to indicate shadow. Although these changes seem minute and insignificant, they add up, and eventually you are left with something entirely unique to what your source material is.

And I think that's what's happened with our beloved bushman. He has undergone so many interpretations simply because of the sheer size and age of tf2. And there are eras to it all, and the most common fanon depictions is often dependent of where you consume your tf2 content from; whether its from tumblr, twitter, deviantart, instagram, reddit, or the game and the steam community itself.

Not all artists use references in the same way as eachother. Some do browse the tf2 wiki and refer to the comics in order to get as accurate of a depiction as possible. But some use other peoples' depictions as references. And maybe there's a popular fic that many people read, or a drawing that many people saw, that influenced other artists to also borrow and use and base their own drawings and writings off of.

Shy reclusive clutz who doesn't know squat about intimacy or how to People is simply a popular trope, and having Sniper be all of that clashes in a funny way with his professionalism in a way that a lot if people enjoy. Like, you're telling me this worldly survivalist assassin, man who has slept in the corpse of water buffalo tougher than all of us, happens to also be a pathetic wet cat of a human being who can't sustain basic conversation without being irked by the Anxieties? This man, who will shag you silly, unflinchingly and confidently, but when you wake up the next morning in his bed he's as red as a robin and stuttering about clean clothes? That's silly. That's amusing. I can see why it's popular to make him like that.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with fanon or ones own interpretation of a character. There's nothing wrong with adhering to canon as closely as possible. If someone claims Sniper as their wife and makes that their own fanon, so be it. We can all coexist. Mmmmyeah.

Ok thank you for reading this thumbsup

Good morning!

(And I don't think you sound like a pretentious cunt. It gives me "theorising over cigars and Scotch with old English bloke in a 1930s smoking room" vibes. I like it!)

I try to keep as canon-compliant as possible. Sniper is confirmed to be a former hunter of dangerous game turned assassin, and he's shown drinking his coffee black, the rest is merely speculation both on his canon characterisation and my own experiences and assumptions on my life. I rarely comment/speculate on the canon incarnation of a character for this reason. On this blog for example Sniper is Sniper and Mundy is Mundy. My characterisation and interpretation of him is Mundy, if I say Sniper I'm referring to him as he's depicted in canon.

Also I don't think he smokes hooch because, again from my own experiences, bushmen develop a very delicate sense of smell and the smell of hooch is overwhelming and disgusting to me. Smell like decomposition in a way.

And I do think a lot of the mischaracterisation issue is because of people not consuming everything they can from the fandom. The comics teach you that Sniper can be cold and bloody calculated, that he always felt like an "other" growing up, that he has no qualms walking about in the nuddy when he's on the hunt, that he treasures his family and seeks his parents' approval over everything, and that his mantra of "be professional" is sometimes taken to the extreme, for example when he's raised from the dead and his first thought of all things is "Being dead's the longest holiday I ever took. Time to get back to work."

Fanon often infects people's interpretation of canon characters. I see it a lot with Pyro, where he's always chipper and upbeat and uwu soft boy and never goes absolutely apeshit like we see in his very own Meet the Pyro video or even the comics (The Bear Scene, cutting off Soldier's hand, burning Ross and Greg alive).

I reckon a part of that is why my characterisation is good? That makes me sound like I have tickets on myself, but I was told once that I have one of the best characterisations of him a reader's ever seen and I will carry that compliment until the day I die, damn it! I was never involved in the fandom until I started writing. And I came here to kind of promote the fic I guess? I never consumed fandom content outside of art, and I don't usually gravitate toward "domestic" art but instead the mercs in action as mercs. My interpretation of him is strictly from what I've seen in canon (be it in-game dialogue and items, the Meet the Team videos, Expiration Date, the comics, the Sniper vs Spy update, etc). I never really consumed "fandom" media and I can't count how often my immediate response to something is "Canon Sniper would not say that."

But I keep my mouth shut about it, and I move on. There's no point in arguing, especially over something so petty.

I think he can still be anxious and professional, especially since I'm anxious and professional. I get nervous when people approach me, but I don't get red in the face or flustered or stutter. I mask and keep it under wraps because I have a certain image I have to uphold in the name of professionalism. No one will hire someone who's a fumbling, stumbling mess. They want someone bold. Sniper wouldn't have gotten any clients if he was actually the way he's often depicted in fandom. He can hold a conversation, but he can also be made more and more uncomfortable the longer it continues on. It's a careful balance and something he'd suffer through for the sake of professionalism until he couldn't take it anymore and politely excused himself.

And he'd never do it with a client.

And yes, he's absolutely the type to be keen on a confident root and then be a mess the next morning because he usually leaves before his partner wakes up and now he has no idea how to handle the Aftermath.

And I reckon a lot of it is also my own experiences? I'm a bushman who lives in the Australian Outback like Sniper, and a hunter of dangerous game, like Sniper. One of the last, really, and I reckon a part of me does feel I have a sort of... authority, I guess, on certain aspects his characterisation? On what this kind of life does to you and makes you feel as a person, of how it changes the way you act and think. Maybe that's why I write him the way I do? I relate to him as a character better than most can, I suppose.

And sometimes I even take offence to certain assumptions about him, especially ones that aren't really thought through in fanon? Like the idea he smells like piss, or he's always dirty. Sure, there's some dirt and dried blood on my clothes, but I wash up every day because hygiene is very important out here. Maybe the reason I'm so stingy about his depiction in fandom is because I'm a lot like him. I don't want people saying I'm a dirty bushman or that I smell like piss because I don't.

I suppose it just hurts sometimes to see people's interpretation of what Sniper must be like and see that reflected onto me because I'm so much like him. I'm not shy, I'm introverted. I don't panic when someone approaches me, but I do get a little nervous until I know what they want. I'm strong and capable and I wouldn't have survived this long out here if I weren't. I'm level-headed. I'm quiet, because that's what the job requires. When you're alone long enough, eventually you just stop talking entirely.

People talk about representation a lot and I've never once felt "represented" until I found out about Sniper. There's I suppose a mild exception for Crocodile Dundee, but he's largely made out to be a buffoon and doesn't really get to show off his actual bushman knowledge until the second movie. Sniper is the first character I've actually felt represented by and "clicked" with who's been treated seriously by his own creator, and I enjoy that. I'm used to being the butt of a joke (bogan, short, etc) but with Sniper? He's respected as a hitman, as an assassin, as a hunter. I envy that respect that other characters in canon show him.

But I don't typically comment on things I think people get intrinsically wrong since I feel like an arsehole doing it. I just judge silently.

[jinxedshapeshifter]

i might end up making a side blog dedicated to the good doctor

anyway here are a few reasons i love it so much.

yes the autism representation is good. there are some incredibly subtle representations of autism that are represented that aren't brought up even in autism centric spaces much and that fact makes me incredibly happy (for example, i don't see a lot of discussion about shutdowns, but as someone who experiences shutdowns more than meltdowns, seeing an autistic character shutdown because he's overstimulated, then see another character refer to it as "falling apart" made me feel represented because it can feel like you're falling apart, and from the outside, it looks like you're falling apart). like at the very least i feel represented.

i swear to god lea has adhd. shaun and lea give me audhd couple vibes and i love it. at the absolute least, lea is definitely not neurotypical.

the good doctor made me want to pursue a medical career again. not just "oh, something like bioengineering where i'd be working in the medical field would be super fun!!" no. i want to get a bachelor's in biology, go to medical school, and do a residency in either neurology or surgery (possibly something else, i'm not entirely sure yet). if i can get some structure in my life and find a place to live in salt lake city (where they have a university that doubles as a med school and a teaching/research hospital) i can absolutely start the journey to being a doctor at an actual hospital as soon as next fall.

im learning about actual conditions i didnt know about. did you know theres a real congenital deformity of the spinal cord that leads to your spinal cord being split in half at a certain point, leading to what basically results in two functional spinal cords? or that your heart can develop outside the ribcage, and protrude outside the chest? or that just getting a surgery, no matter how sterile the operating room and surgical tools are, can give you sepsis, because cutting you open can leave you vulnerable to bacteria regardless of sterility of the surgical environment due to the bacteria inside your body (risk goes up depending on the surgery; for example, your risk for sepsis goes up if you get surgery on your intestines for obvious reasons)?

theres what i perceive to be a realistic balance between personal experience/empathy and objective medical knowledge when it comes to the doctors in the good doctor. for example, morgan not wanting to fuck up a patient's chances of playing violin in the future, and this resulting in the patient's arm getting amputated. on the other hand, shaun's objectiveness means in that same situation, he was trying to convince morgan to do testing, something she was hesitant to do. i think that experience helped morgan find a middle ground between being empathetic and being practical about what tests and such she needs to do in the future; as melendez tells her, one day, she will kill a patient. all doctors eventually do; mistakes are made, surgical errors are made, signs and symptoms are missed, things get misdiagnosed, and a patient dies. i feel like that's a very grim reality in medicine that people don't like to acknowledge (especially people who practice medicine) and adds some realism to the good doctor that isn't seen much in shows centered around anything medical. it's something i'll have to accept if i do decide to go into medicine. yes, the goal is to save people; but i can't save everyone, and in my career i will almost be guaranteed to make mistakes that result in someone dying. the earlier i can accept that (before residency is best), the better off i'll be as a doctor, no matter what specialty i decide to go into.

most of shaun's colleagues are super accommodating when it comes to shaun's autism. it's just a detail i appreciate. they also figure out what helps him out of meltdowns/shutdowns fairly fast, which is another thing i can appreciate.

[whysodelirious08]

He ain't like the rest

- A Eddie Munson x OC Danny (Autistic) short story

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Pairing: Eddie Munson x OC Danny (Autistic)

Summary: a cute friendship with some angst and a twist.

Genre: Fluff, angst, minor friendly

TW: Swearing, Slurs (retard), autism.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Hi! Hope you like this little story. As always I can add onto this story with another part. Just wanted to show some Autism Visibility for those who don't see it very often. I can make a E.M x Autistic Reader if you guys want.

(Please comment if you liked it! I'd really appreciate feedback. As well as any interaction with this post it's appreciated!)

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Danny POV:

"Yo Danny! Wait up!" Daniel heard as he started toward the woods. A heady set of footsteps behind him before he saw the white shoes next to his own. His eyes were on the ground, almost always when he was walking. Unless he was totally alone, he rarely looked up unless he needed to; for crossing the road and such.

"Hey-" the metal head said slightly out of breath from having to jog over. He spoke to Danny normally though knew to expect no vocal reply. The two had known each other for years yet no one knew that, Danny was home-schooled while Eddie studied at Hawkins High. The two never hung out in town either; no shops, no busy places, no where anyone would recognised Eddie. DNny just stayed to the woods, the long forgotten playground and his own house. The places where no one ever was. Other than his family and sometimes Eddie; like in this instance.

"It's been a while. Thought you had left town or somethin" Eddie commented as he followed Danny through the set of trees where a path was starting for form after Danny's daily visits. Danny looked over only for a second, only enough to show he was listening before he carried on. He hummed in response, a rare thing.

"So uh- did you get all your exam shit done? Heard you had to go into school to sit it. Must've been tough. All that noise and people expecting you to actually talk" Eddie chuckled and Danny nodded in agreement to all of what was stated. You see, Eddie did the talking, Danny listened and nodded. That's how it always had been.

Danny hated crowds, noise, new things which included unfamiliar food and drink, he dislikes too many lights, the buzzing from the fridge which he could hear from his bedroom. He struggled to understand social queues and sometimes sarcasm, he couldn't get his head around unsaid rules and unspoken agreements. He needed things to be stated, made obvious. For instructions even if it was something others could just know to do or took initiative to do. He couldn't. If someone needed Danny to do something, they'd need to spell it out or else he wouldn't do it or stand there like a lemon. Eddie knew all this. Eddie was the only one who accepted Danny and his quirks, who tried to understand him. This included Danny's parents, they and Eddie were the only ones who knew Danny.

"What's today adventure? Trolls? Elves? Dragons? Oh! Maybe...werewolves?" Eddie suggested, his hands moving whimsically as he smiled, trying to guess what Danny was up to this time. Danny shook his head and stopped, moving to pull a large book out from his backpack, a bird book with lots of tags where Danny had been researching, clearly a new interest taking over his life.

"Birds? No mystical adventure today? Shame! I needed some inspiration for a campaign" Eddie chuckled before looking over Danny's shoulder while Danny pointed to a bird he was searching for which would explain the binoculars that hung around his neck.

"Here. Lemme try and find it!" Eddie said and took the binoculars off Danny and held them to his eyes every now and then while they walked. Once spotted he flapped a hand around to try and find Danny and get their attention before handing them the bonus to see.

"Finally! I thought we wouldn't find it!" Eddie explained and watched as Danny pulled away from the boot that Eddie was holding, bouncing a little while humming quite loudly, clearly very happy at Eddie's find. Eddie wouldn't admit it but he lived for the moments he saw Danny like this, happy in his own kind of way. Happy in a way that others usually called him weird for. The bouncing, the hand flapping, the happy hums and squels. Those noises were the most vocal responses anyone would get from Danny.

The day carried on like that. One bird, one rock, one leaf find after another. One happy sound after another, Eddie didn't mind spending his days like this when he was able to hunt Danny down. Usually Danny walked the woods for hours, deep into the woods that most wouldn't even dare to go but Eddie was always fascinated by how well Danny knew the place. After heading back to Danny's, the two found comfort in cups of hot chocolate and some old documentary Danny loved. Of course Eddie had seen this same documentary nearly twenty times before but watching the same things over and over again was comforting for Danny which Eddie understood.

They were at home for no more than an hour before Danny's mother walked through the door, coming home from work, her hair a tangled mess and her face showed how tired she was but she still smiled upon seeing the two boys cosied up on the couch like they had always done since they were kids.

Eddie POV:

"Evening boys. Eddie, good to see you again. Come, we need to chat. Tell me how you've been" Mary smiled softly, something Eddie found comfort in. Mary was the comforting female figure he had so needed as a child, she took him in like her own whenever he came over to hang out with Danny, something he was forever thankful for. Eddie watched from the couch as she placed her bag on the counter and shrugged her coat off, bringing the cool October air in with her. Eddie pulled himself up and moved into the kitchen which was open plan and attached to the living room. He emptied the last of the hot chocolate into the sink and washed it away as well as the cup before setting it aside.

"It's been alright, I guess. I'm gunna graduate this year so I've been tryin to get good grades. Who knows knew school was so hard" he laughed as he looked in the cupboards but ended up just pulling some soup out and a pan, emptying the contents out and adding some water since it was a concentrated soup.

"Oh love, you don't have to do that for me. I can do it. And if you're struggling just ask Danny, he's got load of experience. He's much better than me at all the subjects. He doesn't even need a tutor anymore. Thank god" she smiled, saying "thank god" under her breath so Danny didn't hear. It was saving them a fortune to not have a tutor since Danny was pretty good at most subjects when left to work it out in his own way. Eddie shook his head, continuing to sort dinner out for her.

"It's the least I can do after how you've helped me out over the years, Mrs P" Eddie smiled and stirred the soup while the bread was toasting.

"Well it was the least I could have done after you looked after Danny for me. You know what the other kids are like. Even now" she sighed a little and lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag followed by a small sigh of relief.

"Yeah…yeah." Eddie knew. Eddie knew all too well how mean the other kids were, to Danny. To himself. Eddie was the freak of Hawkins High. He was just thankful they didn't look into Danny too much. Everyone in town knew who Danny was, they just never saw him. Danny was the retarded kid and the only child of Mary and James Pennington. He hated that word, especially agaisnt Danny because Danny was one of the smartest people Eddie knew. Maybe not in social skills but hell, if you needed something fixed, Danny could figure it out. With that said, James was never home. Danny's father worked away a lot on the fishing boat, he was gone most parts of the year and despite their distant relationship, James and Danny had a close bond.

"Hey…I know the kids aren't exactly nice to you either. You know I'm always here or you can come see me at work if it's urgent and you can't get ahold of your uncle. You have me. And Danny. And James when he's in town. Don't forget to ask us when you need to." Mary comforted with a rub on Eddie's back while Eddie just nodded and gave a weak smile, moving to dish the soup and toast up.

"Here…I should get going. My uncle tends to worry" Eddie smiled, giving a quick hug before heading over to Danny and kneeling down, knowing Danny wouldn't look at him.

"Hey…I'm off dude. Maybe you can he brave and we can go get some Halloween costumes tomorrow. We don't have to go anywhere but I think dressing up for some pictures would be great, yeah?" Eddie smiled, his hand on Danny's lower leg, them being crossed. Danny merely nodded and smiled, he liked being involved and Eddie tried which Danny appreciated. Eddie moved away and grabbed one of the spare coats from the closet since it was cold out now. Knowing he was allowed to borrow whatever he needed. Once on he moved back over to Danny from behind the couch and moved his arm around their head, pressing a kiss into the top of Danny's head, Eddie always liked how soft Danny's hair was, and how it smelled of apples.

"Be good Danny boy. I'll see you tomorrow. Later Mrs P" he called as he headed out the front door and borrowed one of Danny's many bikes. Danny had a hobby of fixing bikes but not knowing what to do after fixing them so they were just gathering against the side of the house. Eddie would probably just claim that bike now,

Danny POV:

Danny knew this and didn't mind when it came to Eddie. His face had reddened at the kiss on the top of his head, bring his mug to his lips to drink the last of hot chocolate. Yes, Danny was different but he was still nineteen, he was able to know his feelings and able consent and be like any other nineteen year old. The only difference was that he didn't like to talk and he had different interests.

____

Danny POV:

The morning came and Danny chose to wear a variation of the same outfit he always wore, ever since he was a kid; a sweater, blue straight jeans and converse. That was it. His mother could probably line up matching sets from different age groups of the same outfit from when he was five. It was eight in the morning and he was sat with his usual bowl of Cookie Crisp™. Its had been his favourite cereal since he discovered it in 1978, which was about a year after the cereal launched. The house was never without it since Danny refused to eat anything else other than maybe toast on the odd occasion. His eyes were glued on the TV screen, cartoons dancing around in black and white, not minding the rerun of the show. His mother was getting ready to leave, rummaging in her purse before setting a twenty down on the counter. This was more than enough but he knew she always gave him more than he needed incase he and Eddie went out to eat too.

Danny waved without looking over as his mother left. He heard Eddie walk in not ten minutes later and scrape his boots off outside before stepping in.

"Hey you ready? Oh you're still eating. Alright I guess I'll eat too" Danny heard Eddie comment as he walked over, feeling their hand in his hair, messing it up a little just to be annoying.

"You need a haircut" Eddie's statement earned a grunt in response and that was enough for Danny to see Eddie put his hands up in fake surrender. Danny's eyes soon moved back to his bowl of cereal, starting to eat again. Danny would be lying if he said there were no feelings for Eddie. But he knew better than most that no one, not even Eddie would date a "retarded freak" like him. People treated him like a small child, as if he wasn't nearly an adult with wants, needs and desires. Like he didn't want what other nineteen year old boys wanted. It annoyed him.

He noticed how Eddie sat with his own bowl of Cookie Crisp™, hoping that wasn't the last of the box yet he didn't make any sign of complaint. The two just sat in shared silence.

Danny had been making a good amount of progress when it came to interacting with people, he was able to talk just a little bit more like "yes" and "no". As well as hold eye contact for longer than five seconds, which was harder than talking. If course Danny could talk if he really wanted to, for a short period of time he did speak but after the age of six or seven he slowly just became mute. Mainly after people started to bully him for his monotone voice. He became self conscious though would talk to himself when no one was there, home alone or out in the woods. Danny finished up his breakfast and placed the bowl in the sink, hearing Eddie follow suit.

"Off on a new adventure we go!" Danny heard Eddie half shout, trying to lighten the mood. Danny just smiled and grabbed his coat, pulling it on before feeling Eddie put a knitter hat in his head. Though Danny had to readjust it since he didn't like the feeling of it the way Eddie put it on.

"It's chilly out there. Warm enough?" He heared Eddie ask as they grabbed the house keys and turned the lights off while Danny was getting his shoes on. The two set off on bikes toward town racing each other in fits of laughter until they arrived in town, only to see a group at the entrance of the mall. People from Hawkins High. The popular in particular.

Eddie POV:

"Hey. Don't worry. I'm here. If they say anythin I'll just say somethin back and we move along" Eddie reassured as they parked and chained up their bikes outside the mall. Of course if they could get in unnoticed it would be better. But the pair walked in knowing they had been seen and now followed by the assholes who wanted to prey on them. Eddie noticed how Danny was getting anxious, especially with the crowd. He slung his arm around Danny's neck and pointed to one of the shops.

"How about here? Don't worry. The shops aren't as busy. It's just busy in the walkway" Eddie tried to comfort though he knew the assholes were right behind them. He was trying to weave and dodge through people to loose them. He felt Danny shrug, sighing a little before pushing on toward a store with costumes. Nearly in the shop when he was blocked by the assholes.

"Whoa slow down there freaks. There's no need to be rude. We can get along can't we?" The blonde one said with a horrid smirk.

"Fuck off. We want nothin to do with your pathetic little group." Eddie stated, glancing to Danny and seeing their eyes ok the ground like usual.

"The only pathetic ones here are you two. The freak and the retard. A match made in heaven. Is he your boyfriend Danny?" Blondie asked, Eddie watching as they leaned down to Danny to forcibly make eye contact.

Eddie felt Danny tense up and he grit his teeth a bit. The anger bubbling in his chest. He hated these assholes when they came for him but even Danny was involved? That just made it the times worse.

"Enough asshole! Go fuck one of those slots your have on speed dial" Eddie snapped and dragged Danny away. Trying to calm down as he walked.

"He ain't like the rest. As least I have people who want to fuck me. No one wants the freak or the retard. Disgusting!" Eddie heard blondie say just before they were out of normal talking range.

Danny POV:

That last statement was particularly hurtful for Danny, no one would want him. It just confirmed what he had been thinking over the last few years. His eyes becoming teary and his hands locked tightly together.

Eddie tried to cheer Danny up and Danny was thankful but he honestly just wanted to go home now. This was why he didn't leave his comfort zones. Because of assholes like them. But they got their costumes at least.

"I think you're going to look sick in that wizard costume! We can customise it as much as you want, there's a week until Halloween. And all I need is a blue overalls I'm sure I can borrow a pair from the mechanics for the night" Eddie tried to lighten the mood as they way down the street. Dragging Danny off his bike and into a video rental store to find a movie they could watch tonight. The store was dead empty, not even employees since they didn't really care enough to watch and wait for customers, they'd just come and check in when they heard someone in the store ring the bell at the desk.

"Hey don't worry about what those asshats say. They're just bullies. You're just fine to me" Eddie smiled as the two of them were kneeling down looking at the action movies. Danny nodded and looked to the movies and Eddie did the same.

"Plus I'm sure there's someone out there for you. You're kind and interesting, great listener and you deal with all my school drama shit-" Danny was bearly listening as Eddie spoke and laughed, watching them turn to face him though Danny's face was much closer to Eddie's than it had been a minute before. As with Eddie turning to face Danny, their lips almost touched. Danny noticed how Eddie fell silent, a thick silence falling in the store before Eddie started to lean in before stopping and pulling away.

"Danny I- I'm not…I- don't-" Danny listened to Eddie's stammered words and it eas enough to bring him back to reality. His stomach dropped to the floor and a panic arose in him before he stood suddenly, stepping back while finally looking at Eddie, tears starting to show before he dashed out of the store and onto his bike, struggling to get on and push off for a moment as he hopped down the street on his bike. He took off as Eddie called after him, peddling as fast as he could even if it was reckless since he was on a busy street, he managed to miss every car before turning to head down a small hill, a car coming in ahead wasn't paying attention and swerved in a panic at the sight of Danny, Danny's own breaks being pressed but the force of the sudden stop flung him over the handle bars and into the street…

(Please comment feedback and if you'd like a part 2)

[sailorasyuri]

WHY IS AUTISM A FILTHY WORD IN MEDIA?

Growing up I didn’t see autistic people like me within the media I consumed. As a child the only time I felt like I could relate to characters in tv, and movies was when they were either the social outcasts, the ones with the high social compass or the ones who had some sort of double identity. Seeing these kinds of characters in the media I consumed as a child would make me feel as though other people could see me but as I got a bit older, I started to realise something.

Once my parents started to expose me to the popular adult shows of the mid 2000s early 2010s, I would notice that some of these characters would have other traits that I could either see in myself or other autistic people around me. Things like seeing characters who were overly blunt in their social interactions, taking things too literally or finding it hard to make friends. That’s when I would realise, they are autistic just like me, but it was never actually mentioned that they were autistic despite how obvious it was. Now having access to the internet, I know that I wasn’t the only one who could see this and that there’s a term for this. Autistic-coded characters is when you see a character that it is so obvious that they are autistic they must be autistic. Whilst I think it’s cool that we have a word for this I can’t help but feel a little annoyed that we have to have a word for something like this.

Within the past there has been a big move to embrace who you are but that seems to stop when it comes to Autistic people. Maybe it’s because we are not built for a neuro-typical world but even so why aren’t we seeing outwardly Autistic characters in and across mainstream media?

One of the first Autistic coded characters I remember seeing is Doctor Temperance Brenan from the American crime tv show “Bones.” During its run there was a lot of speculation both within the Autism community and outside the Autism Community if Bones was supposed to be Autistic or not.

Despite the show going on for 12 seasons this was never properly addressed within the show. It was later revealed that the reason why her being Autistic was not mentioned was due to the fact the creators of the show believed no one would be interested in that. You read that correctly, the reason why we never got to see Dr Temperance Brenan identify as autistic is because the creators of the show believed that no one would want to see an accomplished, hardworking, intelligent woman who fights crime by using science that she also happens to be autistic. I should probably add that this school of thought was going through the writer’s head whilst, towards the end of the series, they portrayed one of the characters as a paraplegic because of an accident. Whilst “Bones,” finished up in 2017 and is quite well-loved within autistic community due to how well autism was shown it also comes with its issues. Many non-Autistics, who followed Dr Temperance would take the autistic traits we would see in her, idolise the traits and at times they would find it “Quirky,” or “Cute.” Unfortunately, this is still a thing that happens with Autistic coded characters.

With the recent Netflix adaption of “Wednesday,” we saw Wednesday Addams from the Addams family adapted for a 2022 audience. Wednesday for as long as I can remember has been somewhat of a kindred spirt for autistic people. This is thanks to her bluntness and difficulties around understanding social situations. These same traits were seen in the 2022 adaptation which resulted in an influx of people idolising Wednesday for her autistic traits. A lot of autistics including myself were happy to see this show as we felt like how Wednesday was portrayed in the Netflix series was relatable to autistics however, like with “Bones,” many Autistics were seeing non-Autistic people celebrating the traits that they see on Wednesday as “Quirky,” or “Cute.” But when Autistics were to bring up that we could see ourselves in this character there would be massive backlash.

Having characters that are Cleary autistic within the media but is never actually mentioned is affecting autistics and we need to stop this within the media.

Having tv shows and movies that are set-in modern-day settings that show autistic coded characters who are never directly identified as autistic is showing us that we are only to be

partly seen within the media and that neurotypical people only want us during our “cute” or “Quirky” times. Our stories are just as valid as non-autistic people’s stories, we deserve to have our stories correctly shown with mainstream media, this includes having identified autistic characters. Whilst we are starting to see some improvement in seeing autistic stories being told in media such as seen in the Australian teen drama “Heartbreak high.” We need to see more identified autistic characters in media, that show us in a diverse number of ways just like we are in real life. Whilst there is a time and place to use autistic coded characters in parts of the media like in period pieces or following a character who is undiagnosed and then gets diagnosed. Autistics deserve to see character’s that are not just like us but are acknowledged as being just like us especially when we are in an era of embracing who we are. It’s time the media stopped treating autism like as a taboo word and started embracing us.

[anarchobasil]

alright, I feel like I need to address this because this thing has been pissing me off. Basically, I don’t exactly vibe with the term “crit inclus.” But that’s not from a “omg they’re actually exclus bc they don’t support paras being a gay identity 🥺🥺🥺” (paras can have heterosexual or homosexual behaviour patterns lmao), but from a “y’all fucking misunderstand what radinclus means.” So let me get this absolutely straight to you:

RADINCLUS (RADICAL INCLUSIVITY) IS *ONLY* SUPPORTIVE OF GOOD. FAITH. IDENTITIES.

Now, what does this imply and how does stuff like paras or “transage”, “trans-autistic”, “trace” come into play? Okay, so, the whole shtick about being in good faith is not that the person who believes in these identities is or is not acting in good faith (anyone can identify with something either in good or bad faith and for said ID to be valid still), but rather the identity itself to be good/bad faith. comparing the transgender experience of having a gender that’s different from one’s assigned gender — gender is a purely personal and subjective thing — with “identifying with a disability/race”, which is NOT something you simply identify as. I am White because my skin colour is White and because, if someone were to look at me on the street, they would say I’m White. Being White is different from whiteness (the attitudes and worldviews which come from our racialised society). I am autistic because there are very clear signs of my autism; I do not identify as autistic,

I AM AUTISTIC!!! Even if I were to self-diagnose and not have it professionally diagnosed back when I was 3, it’s not something I necessarily “identify” with. It is a concrete reality based on symptoms. (Also, intentionally giving yourself a disability is not a good thing to do, regardless).

I also have to add that being transage can be a valid identity if you are a little in a system or an age regressor, those are actulally valid ways to be, BUT never say you can “transition” your age, much like you can’t “transition” from a race to another or from able-bodied to disabled. (Transrace is valid if you’re talking about adoptees, by the way).

Now that we have established that transitioning to a different race may nooooot be that good faith, let’s look back at what the word “radinclus” means. It specifically says that it only supports…

GOOD FAITH IDENTITIES.

And since we have concluded that the way these IDs are used is not in good faith, they’re not valid. And the paraphillic ones, I think it’s even more obvious. Obviously, a… you know, MAP, can hit up on a little boy and still otherwise be perfectly heterosexual. It’s not inherently queer, and neither is the other two big paraphilias. Actually, paraphilias aren’t inherently queer nor are they straight. They’re simply niche sexual appetites outside of the norm.

Okay, now that we got that out of the window… why do we have to call ourselves “critinclus” when radinclus already did not include this kinda BS anyways? That’d be “radqueer” if you really want to include paras or trans-x stuff as “queer identities.” Just a thought, really.

[brokenmachinemusings]

Pmmm x alnst anon here lolllllz. I think I can kinda explain that what I think about who would be who. Warning that it's long. Here we go.

Ok sooo obviously mizisua is madohomu but it's a little hard to decide who would be madoka and who would be homura for a number of reasons. Apon first looks you might think that sua would be madoka and mizi would be homura because of the whole sacrificing thing+ that one piece of angel sua devil mizi official art buuuuuuut if you look deeper you'll realize that it doesn't really fit: the most noticable part is that mizi has pink hair and sua has black hair+ purple eyes . Mizis whole thing is that she was unaware of her worlds dark nature until her gf died which kindaaaaa defeats the whole thing about homura as opposed to sua who was generally always kinda sad because she knew what was gonna happen if she lost which isn't really something like madoka??? (Also. Mizi is shown to have a generally supportive alien family while sua is shown to have a neglectful one which kinda contracts the thing about homura basically being a Catholic orphan and madoka being the only character in the show to have a supportive AND alive family. Idk if you get it but yeah) anyways I still decided that mizi would be homura and sua would be madoka because of some other reasons but. Yeah. You kinda understand

Next up is ivantill kyosaya. While I can understand why you're not a big fan of kyosaya I actually think that they fit ivantill perfectly (sorta) because it's kinda obvious who would be who here: kyoko would be Till because of her overall aggressive nature BUUUUUT also because till crushing on mizi would kinda also fit homuras and kyokos relationship since kyoko is basically the only person that homura can always trust. sayaka would be Ivan because of the whole "longing for someone who doesn't love you back" thing+ some other reasons (thought Ivan sayaka having beef with sua madoka while being close friends with mizi homura doesn't. Rlly make sense so) Ivan being fated to death could also kinda add up the fact that sayaka witched out every time she became a magical girl. I think you kinda understand why

Sooo Mami is Luka for a number of reasons: both have a reasonable amount of yellow in their designs, both are (physically) the eldest of their groups both are kindaaaaa insane ect ect. It's also fitting because Luka being the "king" of the stage could also add up the thing about Mami being an experienced magical girl and being WAYYY too much in the whole thing. R5 could also be a parallel to the Mami vs homura gun fight (specifically the part where mizi beats the tar out of Luka) . The ONE difference between these 2 is that Mami genuinely feels remorse lol

Anddddd last but not least (drumrolllllllll).... Hitomi as Hyuna. YES I know this seems strange but I actually have multiple reasons to believe why this sorta fits??? First of all Hitomi never becomes a magical girl no matter what which kinda fits hyunas rebel thing. Also iirc Hitomi had a crush on homura in one of the timelines???? Which could kinda add up to the thing about Hyuna rescuing mizi In r5. I guess Issac and Dewey could be those 2 friends of madoka from the first episode but idk. Also since Hitomi doesn't rlly have any association with Mami Hyuluka is cut up from this au LOLLLLLL.

sorry If this seems stupid I stayed up late writing this because autism made me

interesting…! i am listening anon. i personally have some different beliefs but i generally agree

i also think that it’d be best to kind of put the pmmm characters in base-shapes of the alnst characters, BUT let them flourish from there. does that make sense?

i personally think madoka would be in mizi’s place, but i think madoka would be the one to die. and they’re not exactly the same characters, either; just similar enough? homura could be sua and live on and only feel anger at everything and everyone (after madoka dies, anyway). well, at least that’s how it’d work with a first or early-timeline homura. if it’s a homura from the later timelines, she would probably try to sacrifice herself, except madoka would still end up losing maybe? the scores are unfair sometimes

ACTUALLY i think that sayaka would be in till’s shoes (with a crush on madoka, or maybe even kyousuke if he’s in this au, and he possibly dies or something, and then sayaka herself despairs) while kyouko would be in ivan’s shoes (longing for sayaka). or maybe the other way around, like you said, just that the relationship dynamics are a bit different? does that make sense on my part? hmmm the more i think about it the more i want to switch them. that’s also the problem with constraining characters specifically but if you’d like i / we can work on this au to develop the characters and relationships more 👍

i’m glad u also see the mami luka thing tho!!! i definitely 100% agree there

i’m not entirely sure about hitomi hyuna but i’m willing to agree with u for now!!!

a big question tho is nagisa. bc she’s beloved by most of the fandom (albeit… in my opinion she is a little bit forgettable. forgive me, nagisa)

and don’t worry it’s not stupid!!!! if no one else indulges u i will. love listening to weirdass rambles even if i might have a different opinion

[juniperberries]

keep scrolling if you dont want depressed ranting lol i cant figure out how to add a read more on mobile

im back on my bullshit rambling to nobody on tumblr dot com but can i just say that im struggling so hard with not wearing makeup these days

i used to wear makeup all the time from like 12 to maybe 22. like the kind of frequent makeup use that leads to feeling like a gross human without it. like spending a half hour to an hour putting on makeup in the morning in like middle and high school. i also refused to wear glasses in public when i first found out my vision sucked because i was an insecure 12 year old girl with unknown at the time autism who was terrified of not looking as nice as my “friends” (i also had a best friend until 13 who made it her mission in life to make me feel lesser than and prevented me from befriending her friends that i shared a lunch table with every damn day but anyway)

anyway i started wearing glasses every now and then in high school when i was feeling lazy in the morning. i think sometime after 18 maybe? i started going out places without makeup and it was nice! i didnt have to spend that extra time getting ready in the morning, i could rub my eyes as much as i wanted, i could nap during the day without worrying about getting makeup all over my pillow, and i didnt have to take it all off before bed

i think as i started to see more and more interesting feminist takes on makeup on this website i started to realize that i enjoyed the benefits of not wearing it and i didnt want to contribute to societal rules about women needing makeup to be seen as professional, as pretty, as people, etc. i stopped wearing it completely. i got married a few months ago with no makeup whatsoever.

thing is, as much as i realize that wearing makeup contributes to the problem, and realize objectively that i dont need it, i kind of feel like shit! i think it has to do with having the distinct memory of the attention i get with makeup versus without. makeup and clothing was a big part of my Artistic Expression in high school and i thrived on getting compliments from other women about my eyeliner or jewelry or whatever. i felt very Artsy and people were friendlier!

but add in the fact that i gained a fair amount of weight in 2019 and 2020 and im just fucking ignored a lot! people used to call me pretty a lot and it completely stopped when i stopped wearing makeup. i noticed a sharp difference in the coverage from our wedding planner and photographer on their websites for our wedding, which again i did not wear makeup for, versus other weddings they worked on that were more aesthetic or whatever.

it’s just so much more painful to experience all this when i know what it was like for me in the past! at this point i just feel gross and unattractive all the time which isnt good for my mental health either! i know objectively that it shouldnt impact my confidence and that We Live in a Society and that not wearing makeup is the right choice but try telling that to the vast majority of the population who arent so progressive. maybe the moral of the story here is that i need to surround myself with likeminded people but im Autistic and Very Depressed Right Now and havent had any local friendships that lasted longer than a few months since i dropped out of high school in 2013! so yknow

anyway it might be obvious but this is a desperate attempt at reaching out so if you have any advice or reassurance or similar experience pls reply or send a message or something

[seeingteacupsindragons]

YuuMori has a lot of villains (it’s, y’know, about the villains). YuuMori has a lot of characters with mental illnesses and neurodivergences.

Most of the time when you see this combo, well. Mental health issues have a pretty strong stigma.  Usually the reason they’re evil. Something’s just wrong with them, and their mental health and inability to fit into society is another sign and symptom of it.

And yet, in YuuMori, we have these characters who call themselves demons, who are actively, intentionally, the villains of their story­—and their mental health issues are not one of their sins. They do not add to their villainy.

So Albert is obsessive-compulsive. Whether it’s OCD or OCPD can be argued, maybe (although I lean toward OCPD, myself), but he is in fact seriously mentally ill, desperate enough because of it to commit murder. Personality disorders especially are hard to treat, in part because they’re so ingrained into a person. Someone with generalized anxiety might see their anxiety as separate from themselves, but personality disorders are harder to distinguish that way—and it’s part of what makes them so easy to demonize, even more than most others.

But Albert’s? Instead of making his mind looked warped and twisted, his very soul seeming wrong, his reasoning makes more sense now than it ever did before. This was a boy desperate for relief from constant discomfort, from the dissonance between how he knew this should be, how he’d been taught things were meant to be, and how they so obviously were. And it’s very obvious that he is suffering from something outside himself. He is not suffering because he is evil and his soul is wrong. He was suffering before he’d done anything wrong at all.

His discomfort was one of the most rawly emotional moments he’s ever had: Albert is usually quite cool and collected, sometimes angry, sometimes smug, but he has typically felt quite distant, even on the rare moments his internal thoughts are shown. His mental health issues, his suicidal ideation, his OCD? Those were not villainous, not cool, not collected, not careful. Those were human and desperate and fragile.

And while autism is not a mental illness, in this case it performs a similar function for William. He and Albert both have brains screaming at them constantly because that’s not right. That’s not Just. That’s not the way things should be. That doesn’t follow the rules. This can bring people with obsessive-compulsion disorder to their knees and claw their own skin open. It can bring autistic people to wordless shutdowns. It brought Albert the brink of suicide and William to murder.

They are in agony. Unless they fix the wrongness. And they have tried, so many ways, to fix it, and so many of those ways have fail.

William’s guilt may also be agony, but he’s choosing between two different forms of torment. And he thinks one helps others. Not much of a decision, that, not for someone with a soul and a heart, someone who burns so hot with love and hate that he has to turn it into something.

William’s depression, his mental illness, the way his brain doesn’t conform to society, his guilt, his understanding of his own misdeeds is so deep and his self-image so wholly negative, compared how virtually every other character in this series, even John, who barely knows him sees him, and especially compared to how the audience who adores him so much they overwhelmingly voted him their favorite character sees him.

We know he knows what he did was horrible. We are confronted with it constantly. And we are inclined to forgive him even when he might not, because we know despite it all, he has a solid moral center, a good core, the moral understanding of right from wrong. His depression is so all-consuming how could he not? Those things cause his depression.

Albert and William are the focal point of the villainy of the story in many ways: the two who started everything. The two who birthed James Moriarty, Lord of Crime. But while Albert and William may have started everything, they are not the only two with mental health issues.

Louis has always been quite stable. Anxious, to be sure, type A, very high strung. But not really mentally ill—everything he was ever anxious about was entirely reasonable (of course, I have an anxiety disorder myself, so my evaluation of that might be off—but still, worried Sherlock might ruin William’s plan, might lead to his death, might ruin something, worrying about William’s death, worrying about Milverton? All entirely reasonable, thank you). Informed by trauma, surely, but not necessarily mentally ill.

Moran, though? Louis’s behavior is informed by trauma, but Moran’s is poisoned by it.  That double-dose PTSD not only from the war, but from his actions in The Final Problem tore him apart, and we saw it tear him apart. His PTSD pushed him into crime the same way William and Albert’s mental health did.

When Moran first gets his character focus, when his personality and character is delved into properly, it’s to show his trauma and mental health issues. His character is deepened, given structure and reasoning and understand, by showing us his mental illness, the way Albert just was in chapter 62. The way William’s has been for several arcs now with his depression.

I find Moran particularly interesting, because he’s not the only character with Shell Shock: John is also a veteran, and has a psychogenic illness from his time at war. When you take those two, loyal bosom friends of William and Sherlock, who are also set to contrast and parallel each other, down to their mental health issues and neurodivergencies, it becomes very apparent how differently the two teams have portrayals of their illness. Of course, John’s not a villain. Sherlock, for all that he can commit horrible acts, is not a villain.

But Sherlock suffers from bouts of listlessness and gloom just as William does—and he hides it even less. He doesn’t quite manifest as traditional depression the way William does—it really reads more like manic depression—but Moran and John’s PTSD doesn’t manifest the same way either. And Moran’s physical disability rooted in something more concretely physical than John’s and his struggle much more debilitating. The way he suffered pushed him to do worse things than John ever felt pushed into.

But suffering, like it did with Albert and William, makes us feel closer to him. It makes them these powerful men who call themselves devils vulnerable.

Human.

[hargrove-mayfields]

the tags on your football Billy story about autistic kids not being allowed to play sports, gave me the idea of Steve with autism not being allowed on the basketball team and how Billy and maybe Tommy if you want since you write kegboys sometimes would react

It doesn’t take Billy long to notice him, the benchwarmer boy who sits on the sidelines, never getting his shot in a single game, just riding the bench with a smile on his face.

At first he sort of pegs it to mean the kid is just really not good, maybe riding the tails of his daddy’s sportsmanship legacy, but then Billy realizes something, that this kid doesn’t even get to play at practice.

He shows up and he sits there like being excluded is the happiest he’s ever been, and the only time he ever has the ball in his hands at all is if it’s to toss it to one of the boys on the court when it rolls to him.

Despite this though, he has his very own jersey. Number zero. Harrington.

Billy asks Tommy after practice once who this mysterious jersey kid is, and he smiles sort of tight, like maybe Billy shouldn’t have asked him that, and tells him, “I’ll introduce you.”

Tommy walks over to the kid and tells him something that makes him light up, jump to his feet and follow Tommy back over, “Billy, this is my best friend, Steve Harrington.”

Steve just sort of waves, so Billy jumps straight into it. This kid intrigues him and he wants to know more, “There a reason you don’t play, Harrington?”

In response he shrugs his shoulders, hands stuffed in the pockets of his way too big basketball shorts, “I’m not allowed.”

“Why not? You fail some test or something?” Billy tries to ask lightly, not noticing the way Tommy’s face scrunches up before Steve drops a bombshell on him instead, “They don’t let special ed kids on the basketball team.”

And if that’s not bad enough, Tommy then adds, though significantly more bitter than even Steve is, “Or on any team for that matter, whether it’s sports or clubs or debate, you name it. School board denies every last application.”

“Oh.” Billy frowns, totally dumbfounded, his school in California never had any issues with that, “Oh that- that’s bullshit.”

“I know.” They say at the same time, prompting Billy to ask, “They don’t even have like, a separate team?”

“Not enough kids would do it.” Tommy says, and he gets a sharp look from Steve, who corrects him quickly, “Not enough kids could get permission to do it.”

“But that’s such bullshit.” Billy repeats, not very helpfully.

“Nothing we can do about it. We’ve tried everything. Not even momma Harrington could convince the school board, and let me tell you, that woman is scary.”

Steve elbows Tommy for that one, and Tommy laughs softly, throws an arm around his shoulder, but Billy is thinking, biting the corner of his nail in concentration, “Why don’t we start our own team?”

“I don’t know.” Steve’s face scrunches up, and he turns to Tommy, like he doesn’t trust what Billy says, so Billy continues, “No, I’m serious. School says you can’t play for them, so fuck ‘em. There’s courts in the park, I have a ball, and I’m out there half the time watching my little sister anyways. Let’s start our own team.”

Tommy answers for him, “Practice takes up too much time. We’re not gonna be much of a team unless we’re going to be playing at night or in the winter.”

“Then we quit the tigers.” Billy shrugs, like it’s obvious.

Instantly Tommy narrows his eyes, “Very funny, man.”

On the other hand though, Steve looks at him with awe written all over his face, eyes wide and spelling, “You’d really quit for me?”

And Billy, he plays it off like that look doesn’t make his heart melt, claiming, “For you and for Max who’s been talking my ear off about how much she wants to play soccer and whose heart is going to break when she finds out she can’t.”

Convinced, Tommy looks over at Steve, “If you’re in Stevie, I’m in too.”

Steve seems like he’s considering his options, drumming his fingers on the outside of his thigh, occasionally humming softly in thought, and it’s making Billy impatient.

“So?” He asks, to which Steve nods a confirmation to his offer, his hair bouncing with his enthusiasm.

Tommy cracks a crooked smile, holds out a hand for Billy to shake, seal the deal, “You’ve got yourself a team, Hargrove.”

They decide not to give their little team a name, the idea of being called something feels too exclusive, which was the reason they’d all quit the school's team in the first place. Billy had gotten in big trouble when his dad found out he quit for wasting their time and money on basketball, but that was all bullshit anyways, games were only usually a half hour long and were free to get into for the players family, and the school paid for the uniforms.

But that was what he said and what he’d been going to punish Billy for until they found out about the reasoning behind quitting, after which Susan was flattered he cared so much about his little sister, and he got his permission to freely go down to the park and play with the “special” kid.

Neil of course didn’t care about him doing it for Max, he was just concerned with Billy’s public image. Playing ball with the richest family in town's dopey son did nothing but good things for the way their neighbors saw him, so he’d allow it.

A few weeks into their games though, which are mostly just playing HORSE or teaching Steve how to do trickier shots since no coach ever would, Billy has to bring Max along because nobody was going to be home and she wasn’t allowed to be by herself. It’s a dreary day so there aren’t many people around at all, so he decides he’s going to loosen her leash, and walks her over to the playground (that they can see clearly from the courts, he’s not that irresponsible.)

He teasingly offers to push Max on the swings or lift her up to the monkey bars, making her roll her eyes and proudly declare that she’s not a baby anymore, so he chuckles and leaves her be, walking back to the basketball hoops.

Tommy and Steve are just sitting on the old wooden bench just off to the side of the court, waiting for Billy to get back because he’s their little impromptu coach and they can’t start without him, but he notices that they’re sitting awful close together, and between them, Tommy’s hand sits slightly on top of Steve’s, pinky fingers linked together.

Now he knows these two are affectionate, he couldn’t even count how many times Tommy picked Steve up after he made a good shot or ruffled his hair and smiled at him when he messed up, but that was all just friendly affection.

This was different though, he could tell it was from the way Tommy’s eyes snap up and he pulls his hand away, the both of them looking away from each other guiltily.

He feels a little something like jealousy in his chest, or maybe it was just anxiety at the fact that they’d been so obviously holding hands in the public park, but either way, he just kind of freezes up, looking between their two terrified faces until Tommy’s turns angry, standing from the bench so fast the old rusty things creaks loudly and Steve has to cover his ears.

He grabs the front of the baggy jersey Billy wears from his old school's team, the bears, and gets right up in his face, sneering, “You gonna say something, Hargrove?”

And Billy’s not afraid of Tommy, he might be mean, but he’s on his toes to threaten him, and he’s pretty sure they both know Billy would win the fight anyways. He’s not going to fight him though, and he makes that clear, putting his hands up as a clear sign of not going to sock Tommy for yelling at him, “Secrets safe with me, dudes. You go down, I’m going down with you.”

Tommy doesn’t get it though, because he growls, “Right. ‘Cause all that matters is what will happen to your reputation after giving up your precious sport just to hang with a couple of fags, right?”

“Tom.” Steve snaps, but he gets ignored, Billy arguing over him, “Actually, no. You know all that talk about queer kids flocking together without even knowing? That doesn’t come from nothing. I out you, it’s putting a target on my back, and from there it won’t be not long before a little birdie tells the wrong person the right rumor and we’re all dead.”

“Oh.” Tommy says softly, his face falling.

Billy nods sarcastically in response, “Yeah, oh. So let go of my damn shirt before I find a reason to punch you in the face.”

“Can we just play basketball?” Comes a timid request from behind them, so Tommy lets go, wipes his hands on his shorts, and answers him, “‘Course we can, Stevie.”

It doesn’t take long for them to get bored though, none of them are really in the mood to play after that. They play a small game that’s pretty much just Tommy blocking Billy the whole time, but after he shoots the ball they all just let it roll, none of them caring enough to keep the play going. So instead, Tommy offers up his place to hang out there.

It sounds at least better than this, so Billy drops Max off back at home, making her promise not to do anything stupid to get them in trouble until he gets back later that night, and heads straight to Tommy’s like they planned.

The whole drive he’s worrying that they’re gonna pissed at him and beating himself up for not just pretending like he didn’t notice, to the point where he almost just drives right past, but Steve waves at his car from the front window, and he can’t do all this petty angry shit to him.

Tommy’s house is empty for the night, so that means two things, that they’re free to drink as much as they want, (smoking’s a no go though, the smell is too strong and makes Steve upset), and that Steve sits right on Tommy’s lap like it’s nothing.

Which, it is nothing. Billy just told them he was gay too, and now they don’t have to hide from their best friend, so it’s common sense that they wouldn’t.

But Billy, well, he wouldn’t say he’s jealous watching the two of them together, it just makes his chest burn every time they touch or laugh at some joke and whisper amongst themselves like he isn’t even there, or when Steve kisses Tommy’s cheek.

Yeah no, there’s no pretending, Billy is totally jealous. He’s had a thing for Tommy since like, day one of practice when he bounced a basketball back in his own face trying to show off, and Steve for just as long, yearning to know more about the pretty faced mystery kid who turned out to be a total sweetheart and won him over. It’s tearing him to shreds watching them just being happy together without being a part of that.

He wonders if these small town boys have ever even heard of having more than one partner other than like, mormons, and if they haven’t, how is he supposed to bring it up without sounding like a total weirdo. Maybe he could claim that he was just trying not to be left out since they were probably the only queer kids in Hawkins. Or maybe not and Tommy would try to kick his ass again for even trying.

He doesn’t have to do much wondering though, because as pointedly as he’s trying to ignore them, Steve keeps getting closer to Billy on the couch until he’s sitting in his lap, and Billy has to ask, blue eyes going a little wide, cheeks flushing red in a way that had nothing to do with the sunburn he’d gotten at the park earlier, “What’re you doing Steve?”

“You included me. Now I’m including you.” Steve hums and leans his head on Billy’s shoulder, holding eye contact with Tommy.

To say that Billy is flustered and doesn’t know what to do with himself is more than an understatement. He'd like to say he’s not the most inexperienced one here, but it’s not looking good, because he’s flushed as red as a tomato, and the only thing he can think to say is just, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Tommy says and smiles that big goofy smile of his, a playful imitation of their little argument from before, “And I’d much rather you kiss me than punch me.”

[nonbinary-kaz]

Fuckt Up Lil Bros Intro:

a fic that won't get finished so I'm putting it here

When Wylan was eight, his father had finally gotten fed up with him, and had packed Wylan and his mother into a car and taken them to see a specialist. His mother had argued the whole way there, saying Wylan would learn to read when he felt like it, that the strange outbursts would end eventually. After all, Wylan was a child! Children were unpredictable, at best, she’d said. Stubborn. His father had growled something under his breath, along the lines of Wylan being less stubborn and more of a problem.

Then they had walked away from the specialist hours later, and his father berated his mother, throwing all those words she’d said back in her face. Wylan didn’t quite understand, especially not when his father had slammed the car door shut and called Wylan something that Wylan wouldn’t realise until much later was a disgusting, horrible word. His mother had already known, and she had hissed at him to not say such things.

“He’s our son,” she’d said.

“Not mine,” his father had said. “Not if he’s like this. My genes wouldn’t pass this on.”

“Jan Van Eck,” she snapped.

“Your father was always strange,” he said. “Maybe this is from him.”

“I don’t care who this came from,” she said. “It doesn’t matter. He’s still your son. None of this matters.”

“How can this not matter?” he demanded. “He can’t read, Marya. He’s socially inept, and he will evidently remain so for the rest of his life. He’s not normal. He’s not right.”

And she had murmured something lowly and dangerously, something Wylan couldn’t hear from the back. It had shut his father up, though.

Wylan was both too young to understand and too old not to understand words like “dyslexia” and “autism” and “severe anxiety” and whatnot. Looking back on it, it didn’t matter if he knew what it was or not. All that had mattered was the noticeable change in his father’s behaviour to him.

That had also been when all the therapies started. Physical, to get him over how awkward his body was. Occupational, to stop him from getting upset about “minor things.” Speech, in hopes that it would help the reading. Tutoring, because that should have helped the reading. Drugs, to stop him from being timid all of the time.

He hadn’t needed most of those; the most use they gave was to keep his father hoping that he could someday “get better” until they ultimately proved ineffective to his standards. Granted, the medications would continue to help throughout his life, just not the way Jan Van Eck had thought they would.

If Wylan had to pinpoint where his life had gone to hell, it would be that moment he stepped in the car to go to that specialist.

Though, if he had to pick a second point, it would be months later, when his mother had died. He didn’t get to go to the funeral. That was when things had gotten worse from his father, with his mother no longer around to mitigate, to stick up for Wylan. His father started hiding him then, keeping his contact with the world as minimal as possible. He had his therapies, he had his tutoring, he had whatever nannies his father hired, and he had the occasional parties he couldn’t get away from.

He hated those parties. They were loud, and everyone always bothered him, and the food was gross, and his father always yelled at him later for acting like a fool and disgracing the Van Eck name.

The third hellish point in his life, though, was the moment that “Van Eck” ceased to have meaning at the end of Wylan’s name. He could no longer disgrace the name, if the name no longer signified his ties to Jan Van Eck.

Perhaps he should have been happy. He no longer had those parties, no longer had those therapies and tutors, no longer had his raging father. He was free of it all.

But he wasn’t happy. Mostly, he was just… scared.

Wylan hadn’t even known he had second cousins twice-removed until the day he’d been disowned. Maybe that would have been obvious to most people, but his father had cut ties with most of his family. Wylan was certain the only people Jan Van Eck was legally related to anymore was Alys, his new (and insanely young) wife, and their future child (the reason Wylan was finally let loose).

After a long taxi ride, oh-so graciously paid for by his father thanks to Alys’s bleeding heart, Wylan had enough time to fully terrify himself with catastrophic thoughts of what these “cousins” would be like. Jordan Rietveld and Kasimir Brekker could possibly be worse than his father. Hell, the name of the second one sounded intimidating enough.

Wylan spent a short while wondering why they had separate names if they were full-blooded brothers. He’d asked, but at that point, his father had stopped bothering with him altogether, and had walked away halfway through Wylan’s question.

The cab driver said something, but Wylan had lost himself so deep in thought that he couldn’t catch what the man had said.

“Sorry?”

“Five minutes,” the cab driver grunted.

“Oh. Thank you.”

And Wylan sank into his seat, panic beginning to eat him alive.

Wylan had only three bags with him. Two were packed with the essentials: clothes. Just clothes. Well, and the remnants of this month’s medications. But other than that, it was his sweaters and shirts and jeans and underwear and socks and two pairs of shoes. And that was all. The other case had been filled with things Wylan had snuck with him. Paints and easels and canvases and brushes and pens and charcoals and pencils and his flute. He had no clue if his father would’ve let him take them, so he’d hid them in the suitcase and bolted before his father could inspect anything. Perhaps that had been pointless—Jan Van Eck had stopped looking at him the moment he’d announced Wylan would be disowned.

Two of those three suitcases were dropped unceremoniously on the side of the curb by the driver. Wylan had fortunately grabbed the bag filled with his supplies, so nothing broke when the bags thudded to the grass.

“Thank you,” Wylan said to the driver. “I’d tip if I could.”

The driver just shrugged. “Whatever, kid.”

Then he disappeared back into his cab and drove away. Wylan watched as the taxi turned the corner and disappeared, suddenly feeling his heart thud louder and faster than ever before. Everything felt both too real and too unreal at the same time.

“No panic attacks before noon,” he told himself quietly.

“Wylan?”

Wylan nearly jumped out of his skin, and his heart likewise nearly flew out of his chest. If pain was painless, that would be the feeling of his heartrate returning to the pace it had previously set before as Wylan tried to regain his breath.

He turned towards the voice, suddenly filled with so much anxiety that his stomach hurt.

Two people were just a short stretch down the sidewalk, slowly making their way over.

“Wylan Van Eck?” one of them asked, clearly the owner of the voice that had previously called for him.

“Yes,” Wylan said. He discreetly wiped his palms against his pants, trying to get the sweat off of them. “Hi. Um. Jordan and Kasimir?”

The speaker began laughing, and Wylan suddenly noticed his face. It was painted in large scars and marks, a patchwork masterpiece of pristine porcelain and burnt blemishes. They had no distinct pattern, and clearly did not hurt the man, as he smiled widely through them. Wylan did also note that the half-eyebrow missing did add a bit of intrigue to his face, but otherwise… well, Wylan averted his eyes. He found staring at people’s faces to be unbearably uncomfortable in the first place, but this just made it worse. He knew he shouldn’t look at all, really. Didn’t people always find that rude? But according to his father, Wylan not looking people in the eye was rude, too…

“It’s Kaz,” said the second person, his voice harsher than rock grating rock.

He had no scars on his face—which seemed young and fresh, making him seem hardly older than Wylan, despite the hardened lines of his permanent scowl. Either that, or he already despised Wylan. Neither seemed favourable. Perhaps his taxi-ride fears weren’t totally unfounded.

But what stood out more to Wylan was the cane he leant heavily upon.

Jesus Christ, Wylan thought to himself. No wonder Jan Van Eck had never mentioned being related to them before. If he had hated Wylan…

That was rude to think that, though. He shouldn’t think of how his father thought of things. His father’s view of the world was skewed. At best.

“If you call him Kasimir,” the first guy said, “he might kill you.”

Wylan glanced to the kid—Kaz—and then immediately dropped the gaze to the ground. The scowl had gotten deeper. Kaz did indeed look murderous.

“I’m Jordie,” said the first guy, his smile balancing Kaz’s serial killer glower. He stuck out his hand to Wylan. “Jordie Rietveld.”

“Wylan Van Eck,” Wylan said, shaking the preferred hand.

“We know,” said Kaz. He did not offer his hand for Wylan to shake. Wylan noted the dark leather gloves that covered his hands. Interesting, especially when balanced with Kaz’s otherwise dark and grim attire.

Jordie, on the other hand, wore a white t-shirt and faded jeans, looking like a completely normal person. And the lack of near loathing on his face made him preferrable to Wylan. Even if Kaz wanted to kill him, perhaps Jordie wouldn’t hate him.

Not until he learned how much of a fuck-up Wylan was, anyway.

“So, you’re our cousin,” Jordie said conversationally. His eyes searched Wylan’s face, perhaps trying to find the similarities there.

“Not that we knew it,” Kaz said, his rasping voice filled with an unamused tone. Everything about Kaz screamed “unamused,” really.

Jordie coughed loudly. Kaz glanced over to him, something temporarily erasing the annoyance on his face. But then Jordie send Kaz a meaningful look of some sort, and the look returned to Kaz.

“Sorry,” Jordie said.

“No, it’s okay,” Wylan said quickly. “I didn’t know either.”

“Hm,” Kaz said.

“Anyway,” Jordie said, raising his voice somewhat. It reminded Wylan somewhat of whenever Wylan dared speak in his father’s presence at one of those parties, when his father would speak right over him to draw attention away from Wylan. Hiding his screwed-up son. But Jordie didn’t seem… well, Wylan couldn’t say that for sure. He had just met the man. But he did seem to only be doing it for Wylan’s sake, to keep Kaz’s irritation at bay. Again, Wylan couldn’t tell for sure, though. Only time would tell, he supposed. “I suppose… welcome.”

“Thanks,” Wylan said.

“Shouldn’t ‘welcome’ wait until he has actually seen the apartment?” Kaz asked dryly.

“Right,” Jordie said, frowning and blinking. “Right, yeah, that would…”

He trailed off, staring somewhere off in the distance. Then he shook his head, looking back to Wylan.

“Would you like to come inside?” he asked.

“Sure,” Wylan said, because what the hell else was he supposed to say? Someone different could have perhaps found something far more eloquent to say, but Wylan was not someone different. He was unfortunately just Wylan.

“Great,” Jordie said, smiling once more.

He bent down and grabbed one of Wylan’s clothes bags before Wylan could take them himself. Wylan shouldered his supply bag, ready to grab the last bag, but Kaz had already taken it. Guilt rumbled through Wylan’s chest. They shouldn’t help him. They’d already burdened themselves with taking him in; they shouldn’t add more to that. But Jordie had already begun walking away, towards the apartment complex Wylan now bothered to look at. Kaz was directly behind him, limping even worse than before. Wylan’s guilt likewise compacted.

The apartment complex looked… to be fair to the place, it wasn’t the worst place Wylan had seen. He’d seen way worse on his drive over here. But it was rather bad. The white paint had lost most of its life, living a now grim existence as faded yellow ivory. The windows and their sills looked old. That was the most Wylan could say about them. And the fire escapes everywhere looked rusty and rickety. Wylan wouldn’t trust those with his life. He hoped he’d never have to.

Jordie unlocked a side door to the place, then pushed through. Kaz followed, hands too busy with bag and cane to hold it open for Wylan, who had to rush to make sure he wasn’t locked out.

Inside looked about as dreary as out—old, matted carpet covered the stairs that lead to all of the floors, and decaying plant matter and dirt tracks and bug remnants scattered across the tile landing. The popcorn walls had crumbling and faded paint, much like the outer walls.

“Oh, boy,” Jordie said up front. “Here we go.”

Then he mounted the first stair with a sigh. Wylan frowned, wondering what that was about.

He figured it out after the first flight.

“Inhaler,” Kaz said, almost bored, as Jordie wheezed and coughed, leaning against the wall.

Jordie nodded, shouldering Wylan’s bag so he could root around his pockets. He pulled out a white and blue inhaler, popping the cap off as he began to shake it.

“I can take my bag back,” Wylan said, now feeling another layer of guilt. “You don’t have to carry it.”

Holding his breath as he removed the inhaler nozzle from his lips, Jordie shook his head. Kaz just scowled over his shoulder at Wylan, his cane held horizontally in the same hand that held Wylan’s bag as the other hand clung to the railing.

All of this burden they placed on themselves, only for them to sooner or later realise that they wasted it when he showed them just how useless he was.

They had to go quite slowly after that, but they eventually made it to the correct floor. The Rietveld apartment (Wylan assumed it was under the Rietveld name, anyway; Jordie was the older of the two, and Wylan was now dead certain Kaz was near his age) was the first door off the staircase. Convenient, in a small way. Not convenient that the place had no elevators, but Wylan wasn’t about to ask why they lived here and not a more accessible place. There was a reason why people lived in a place like this: money (or the lack thereof).

“Home, sweet home,” Jordie said, unlocking the door to the apartment.

Wylan’s first thought was: It’s bare.

His second thought was: It’s small.

The living space held a crackling old leather sofa, a brown corduroy reclining chair, a coffee table scattered with dents and mail, and flatscreen TV. The TV was the only thing that looked remotely new; Wylan suspected the rest were either hand-me-downs or thrifted.

Beyond that lay a kitchen, removed from the living room by only an island bar. It had space for a refrigerator, oven and stove, sink, and a small stretch of countertop that was surrounded by cupboards and drawers. If all three of them stood in that room, Wylan figured, it would become quite crowded.

He couldn’t see the rest of the place, but a hall led away from beside the kitchen. That likely held the bedrooms and bathroom, and whatever else could possibly be in this small place.

Jordie dropped Wylan’s bag on the sofa. Kaz set the other beside it, continuing to walk until he disappeared down the hall.

“Don’t mind him,” Jordie said, not once losing his cheer. “He’s always a grump.”

“Oh,” Wylan said, unsure what else to say.

“Anyway, this is it,” Jordie said. He began gesturing around the place. “Living room, kitchen… down the hall’s going to be your bedroom on the left. Me and Kaz’ll sleep together in the other one. Bathroom is last door on the left. Um… yeah. That’s about it.” He turned to Wylan, smiling ruefully. “Yeah. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“It’s… nice,” Wylan supplied.

Jordie laughed. “You’re funny. No, it’s okay. You don’t have to lie. This place is a shithole.”

Wylan wouldn’t have put it like that, but yes. He’d seen the hole in that one cupboard, the chunk missing from the faux marble island counter, the dents in the wall, the crack in that corner of the ceiling…

“It’s not so bad,” Wylan said, generously.

“It’s cheap,” Jordie said, placing his hands on his hips and surveying the ceiling. Oh. Another crack. “That’s what it is.”

“Oh.”

“So,” Jordie said, looking down at Wylan. “Want to see your new room?”

Wylan shrugged. “Sure.”

This time, he managed to grab both cases of clothes before Jordie could reach them. Wylan’s arms felt like they were being torn off, but at least Jordie wasn’t burdening himself for Wylan. Plus, the short hall was nothing like that staircase.

Jordie led him through the hall, pushing open a door with a hole in a conspicuously shoulder-height place. Wylan eyed that warily until the door had swung fully open.

If the rest of the apartment was barren and small, then this was… Wylan didn’t even know the words.

The walls were popcorn white—as with the rest of the place—but they were studded with holes of previous tenants nails and tacks. Nothing lay on the walls currently other than those holes. There was a bed pressed against the back right corner, taking up most of the space. Half of the bed rested below the window (which seemed to lead to this apartment’s fire escape). Another large portion of the space was taken up by a dresser and desk combination. A small stool went along with it, tucked beneath the desk portion. And in the far corner across from the bed, a shallow cut-out of space denoted a closet.

“Used to be my room,” Jordie said. “But I’m in with Kaz now.”

“Oh…” Was there anything that wouldn’t make Wylan feel like guilt was piled so high atop him that he might sink beneath the ground?

“I assume you don’t have a toothbrush or shampoo or anything?” Jordie asked.

“Um, no,” Wylan said.

Jordie nodded. “Thought not. Well, you can use mine for the time being. Shampoo, anyway. Please don’t use my toothbrush.” Wylan managed a feeble smile as Jordie grinned broadly at him. “Use your finger, or something.”

“I do, um…” Wylan fumbled to find the right words. “I have some medications… I don’t know where—”

“Medicine cabinet’s behind the mirror,” Jordie said quickly. “You might have to rearrange a few things to get your stuff in there, though.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“For what?” Jordie asked.

“Moving your stuff around, I guess.”

Jordie frowned strangely at him. “I toldyou to do it. You don’t have to apologise. Hell, you haven’t even done it yet.”

Wylan pulled his lips into his mouth, biting them together. Jordie studied him for a short while longer, then shook his head to himself. The easy smile returned to Jordie’s face.

“I’ll leave you to unpack, then,” Jordie said. “Oh, and we’ll get you those supplies tomorrow. Or sometime soon.”

Then he disappeared out of the room. The door creaked as it swung most of the way shut behind him. For reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom, that summed up exactly how Wylan felt.

Wylan didn’t have hangers for his clothes, he discovered.

“Oh,” he said to himself. “Okay. Um.”

He refolded the sweater he had just pulled from one of the bags, then shoved it back inside. He zipped the bag back up. With any luck, the clothes wouldn’t get all wrinkled. He highly doubted that this place had an iron.

The dresser, he figured, would likely only need to house his underwear and socks. Those could all get tossed in the same drawer. Thus, he could appoint all the other drawers for his art supplies.

Organising those drawers gave him a good hour of clear headspace. He organised them one way before deciding he didn’t like that, then started over.

When he had nearly finished with the drawers, he stopped, staring at the oil paint tubes in his hand.

Why was he doing this? He had no right to. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong here, for any number of reasons. This wasn’t his place. He couldn’t be a burden on two other people—people who looked like they had enough burdens of their own to bear. Yet, here he was, unloading all of the life he could carry into drawers and closets that weren’t his.

Ungracefully, he dumped the paints back in his bag, followed by all of the other supplies he had just spent forever organising. The only thing he left in the drawers was his canvases. Those shouldn’t get tossed around so much. He only had five; he had to treat them with care. He could spare exactly none of them.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a loud cough came from somewhere outside of the door. It hit him, moments later, that he had dimly heard coughing in the background for a few minutes now. But that particular cough was unexpected. And quite horrible.

Wylan moved to the door, cracking it open. He saw a dark head of hair outside, bent over as another cough came. Jordie’s head raised, elbow pressed against his mouth as he coughed again.

“Wy—” a cough cut him off for a moment “—lan.”

He shook his head, then dropped his elbow to reach into his pocket and grabbed his inhaler. Wylan looked away as he primed and then used the inhaler. It was awkward, watching him… well. It was just an intrusion, wasn’t it? And rude. Nobody was supposed to stare at anyone different. Not Kaz’s cane and limp, not Jordie’s scars, not this.

“Sorry,” Jordie said a minute later.

Wylan heard the click of something closing, and he looked up to see Jordie capping the inhaler and ramming it in the pocket of his jeans. Jordie had an amiable smile on his face.

“Asthma,” he said, as if the coughing had been merely some bug he’d swatted away.

“I’m sorry,” Wylan said.

Jordie waved a dismissing hand. “Don’t. I get enough of that in my life.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, that’s new.” Jordie’s smile had broken wider, genuine and confused amusement splitting his face. “An apology. For an apology.”

Wylan tried another, “Sorry?”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t had an actual apology in this house in…” He trailed off with another disregarding wave, but Wylan got the point. Kaz didn’t seem to be the relenting and apologetic type. “Anyway. I came to ask…”

Wylan watched him, waiting for the question. Jordie simply frowned. He looked over to the wall for a second.

“What was I going to ask?” he murmured to himself. “Shit.”

Unsure of this new situation, Wylan felt his fingers fumble for the fabric of his shirt’s hem. Jordie kept frowning at the wall, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he concentrated.

“Jordie?” Wylan asked after what seemed like too long.

Jordie’s head snapped back to Wylan, frown deeper for a split second. Then it erased, reverting to an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I can’t remember what I was going to ask.”

Wylan knew that feeling all too well, but something about the way Jordie had zoned out bothered him.

Suddenly, Jordie snapped loudly, his index finger pointing to Wylan. Startled, Wylan drew back somewhat.

“Dinner,” Jordie said, amusement lighting his face once more. “Dinner. I was going to ask about dinner.”

Still uncertain, Wylan merely stared at Jordie.

“What do you like to eat?” Jordie asked. Before Wylan could even begin to think how to answer that, Jordie said, “We don’t do fancy rich people stuff, though. We’re cheap.”

“Oh. I didn’t… I mean, I’m not… you don’t have to worry about that,” Wylan said, words stumbling ungracefully. “You can just… make whatever you want, I guess.”

“Okay, I’ve heard that before, and that never goes over well,” Jordie said. “Nina’s the only person that has ever worked for.”

Wylan did not know who Nina was, but he still felt guilt gnawing at him. He really did not want to make Jordie change whatever meal he had planned.

“Seriously, it’s okay,” Jordie said. “Just tell me so that you don’t starve and then I don’t have the police investigating me.”

Wylan blinked.

“That was a joke,” Jordie said. He waited a second longer, expecting Wylan’s laughter. Wylan managed a grimaced smile. “Okay. No jokes. Um. Fine. Look. This is what we eat on a regular basis. Chinese takeout. Pizza. Uh. Boxed noodles. Frozen vegetables. Any easily-heated meal. Any of that repulsive to you?”

Truth be told, Wylan wasn’t entirely sure. He’d never had boxed noodles before. Or easily-heated meals. He knew he didn’t like most vegetables—they all reeked or had unpleasant textures (broccoli being the worst offender of all)—but maybe frozen made them different?

“No,” Wylan said. Even he could tell he sounded unconvincing.

“Fine,” Jordie said. “We’ll start with pizza. Nobody hates pizza.” He turned and walked away then, grumbling under his breath, “Not even Kaz.”

Wylan slowly closed the door, utterly confused by that entire encounter.

(and this is all I have written lmao sorryyyyyy)

[babybirdarmy9]

To fakeclaim or not to fakeclaim: Why I think this goes deeper than a simple “yes” or “no”

TW/CW: fakeclaiming (duh), briefly describing a fear of causing accidents

If you have a short attention span, you may skip ahead because the first few paragraphs will be me explaining a bit about myself and why I decided to write this. I should strongly emphasise that this is my personal opinion as a neurodivergent. No I do not have a PHD, no I do not think that my words should be treated like a textbook. Just some thoughts of my own. Heads up: I have neither DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder), Autism, nor TS (Tourettes Syndrome) a.k.a conditions that fakeclaimers believe “fakers” enjoy pretending to have. I am clinically diagnosed with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) and NVLD (Non-Verbal Learning Disability). When I use the term “faking” I am referring to the act of pretending to have a disorder in general and not faking any specific neurological condition. I originally intended to let this stay inside my head as a thought but it’s been a few days and it isn’t going anywhere. I feel like I have to say it out loud and I don’t care if no one sees it or sees it and thinks I’m stupid for having these opinions. I’ll confess that a while ago I subscribed to r/fakedisordercringe because I had heard that there was purportedly a rise in people faking disorders and as a neurodivergent I was fascinated and disgusted that people would perceive mental disorders as “fun” and “quirky” and turn it into an aesthetic which pop culture is indeed guilty of, my impression being that the subreddit would be aimed at calling out neurotypicals clearly proven to be faking. It seemed a nice enough place that could serve as a platform for neurodivergents to correct misinformation spread by known fakers and spread awareness and also had strict ground rules against doxxing, misgendering and direct harassment. There was an automod that would encourage users to NOT submit any genuine cases and to provide evidence of the person in the video faking their condition. I thought that the subreddit was well maintained and run for the first week or so I was there. Until I found a post containing a tiktok clip in which the person stated something along the lines of “walking in circles around the pole in my room is my favourite stim”. It was submitted by a user of the subreddit who described themselves as “diagnosed with autism”, and their argument was that “walking around in circles is not a stim” and that the person was “undiagnosed”. As someone with ADHD that has similar habits, I was confused as it felt very genuine to me. I replied that as someone with ADHD I exhibited similar behaviour and that the tiktok individual could be having ADHD, even in my comment I linked a WebMD of the medication I am currently taking. I reported it to the moderators of the subreddit under “bad evidence” and to their credit it was removed very quickly in under 5 minutes of me reporting it and slapped with the “bad evidence” flair (it could have been that others did the same) but in the time it was still up I was downvoted for my comment. This left me stunned and disheartened because I was under the impression that the users there were familiar with how mental disorders typically worked and that the majority of those subscribed are neurodivergent like me. That was the moment I began losing faith in it. The moment I was no longer certain they were 100% knowledgeable about the things they talk about. As soon as I was downvoted, I instantly went to check if “pacing around is a stim” because I started doubting whether what I am doing is what ADHD people are supposed to do. It made me question myself. And yet, I can’t argue that the subreddit has no purpose and that all they do is falsely accuse genuine sufferers. Because they have defended an individual from accusations of faking by other subreddit users. Because they have actually called out proven fakers like ticsandroses who earned money from faking tics and stopped spreading awareness about TS after they were exposed (correct me if this bit is wrong). Which is why I am still temporarily subscribed, and remaining cautious. Still, there’s now that lingering sense of wariness when a new post comes up: Is the person in the video actually a faker, or are they neurodivergents whose manifestation of the condition can be interpreted as “fake”? But I did have a realisation: Fakeclaimers and “fakers” (at least those who are really faking) are two sides of the same coin. They have the same problem. Both of them fail to view disorders as a spectrum, thinking that the behaviour of one member of the community is indicative of what the average sufferer should behave like. For “fakers” (again, those who are actually pretending), they take an extreme end of the spectrum as the “model” example, which is why some of the proven ones often can be observed to imitating the behaviour of well-known users that are known to actually have the condition when trying to create the illusion that they actually have it when they may not. (TheTrippyHippie is one of these genuine sufferers that documents what it’s like for her to live with her condition, Tourettes) They often set a low bar for the diagnostic criteria. “Blinking on the beat is ADHD!” “Shaking on the “my anxiety” song is an indication of anxiety!” “You like organising your snacks? OCD!”  And when I, with ADHD am unable to do these and am under the impression that people like me are SUPPOSED to, I can’t stop the thought that “maybe I’m the faker” from popping up in my brain. Why am I not shaking my hands to stim? I can’t focus on one song in this blend of audios but I’m apparently supposed to instinctively be able to do if I have the condition?  Fakeclaimers are the opposite. They often fakeclaim by downplaying the condition. “You’re faking because I know people in my life with *insert disorder* and I barely noticed that they had it while you’re trying to make it obvious”, “you don’t have it, you’re just neurotypical and acting out a tv show stereotype” or the one that hurts me the most “real sufferers wouldn’t be happy about their condition because it is the worst thing ever and all of them don’t want to have it and would pass their disability onto you FAKERS since you want to be neurodivergent so bad”, which I am often conflicted over because ADHD has its good and bad. On one hand the bad is really bad: The drowsiness I slip into when I’m unmedicated fucking sucks because it instilled in me a fear of driving because I always imagine myself falling asleep at the wheel and killing someone on accident, when I’m jittery and can’t sit still and my deadlines are running at me. But some aspects of ADHD can be really helpful like when I enter hyperfocus and actually get more stuff done than before, when new ideas rush into my brain out of a sudden and I’m overwhelmed yet happy. So to say that neurodivergents must resent their condition wholeheartedly makes me uncomfortable. I have a love-hate relationship with it but can’t deny that it has some hand in shaping my personal identity. To them, it’s fake because they think everyone should be on the mild end of the spectrum. Both of them don’t seem to understand that we all act differently. It’s a spectrum for a fucking reason! People who react more severely might not be fakers but be on the far end of the spectrum. People who barely react might be medicated at the time or having a mild version of the disorder. God, we’re not robots. Why can’t people just understand that? I wanted to argue for a particular side, but I can’t bring myself to do that. Not when either option brings about negative consequences and ultimately hurts people. I wish there was a definite answer. I wish there was a foolproof way to identify fakers and not drag actual sufferers by accident in the process. I wish there was a way to “just know” someone is faking. But there isn’t. But I hope that this rant on a hot afternoon in my country does add something useful to the discussion.