#but the more I explain to him that a diagnosis is not a restriction but actually a liberation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs | Tumgik (2025)

tw: abuse, eating disorders, mentions of alcoholism

One of Wade's earliest memories was being four years old, sat at the half rotten kitchen table, sobbing hysterically over the food on his plate - all while his parents screamed at each other in the background.

"He needs to fucking learn, we're too poor for his fussy ass to waste food!"

His dad, getting in his mother's face, hands curled into fists as a warning, or a threat.

"I know, but he's not gonna fucking eat otherwise, and you heard that doctor. He's underweight as it is! I've got his chicken nuggets in the freezer-"

A smack, and the reverberating sound didn't even make Wade flinch anymore. He was kicking his tiny feet, trying to lift the fork to his mouth to end all of this, but it's like his body just... couldn't do it.

He was trying to be a good boy. He really was. He didn't want mommy getting hurt because he couldn't be good. It wasn't fair.

"Eat, Wade. Now," and that was definitely a threat, the words growled in his face, and Wade let out a sob as he quickly shoved the forkful past his quivering lips.

"You don't move from this fucking seat until this plate is empty. We clear?"

The grip on his arm hurt, but he knew if he tried to squirm away it would only tighten.

"Y-yes sir," he hiccuped, and his dad smirked, triumphant. As if he'd won, and his tiny self couldn't explain it but it made him feel like crying harder.

It took two hours, and tiny bites, but he finished the meal.

He didn't feel right the rest of the night. It was gone and done, but he felt utterly sick, like he needed the food and the taste out of him, and it didn't matter how many times he scrubbed his teeth with his spongebob toothbrush, up on his tippy-toes to reach the sink, the taste wouldn't fade.

He'd ended up spewing the meal back up a few hours later. He hated throwing up because of how shaky and weak it made him feel, and yet that night? He'd been practically giddy to have the food out of him.

It was the first time, but it wasn't the last. It may of been his earliest memory, but he had hundreds more exactly like it as a kid. Sat at that stupid table. The plate in front of him. Tears in his eyes.

Half the time, he'd just take the beating. At least he could settle after that, and not agonise for hours over the foods presence in his stomach until he was able to get it the fuck out.

He expected to grow out of it, as he hit his teens. He did start actually trying new foods, to usually poor results. His grandmother had scoffed, labeled him 'fussy', her eyes as disapproving as her sons. Wade had accepted the label, wore it with a twinge of embarrassment- because while he was good at not taking himself seriously, it still sucked ass not to be able to order off the adult menu in most restaurants and to turn down completely normal adult snacks because he couldn't stand certain textures or tastes.

He never grew out of it, in the end, but the list of foods he deemed as 'safe' did expand just a little.

It wasn't until he was older and they learnt about neurodivergence in health class that he ever heard a description accurate to his relationship with food. Avoidant restrictive food intake disorder. ARFID.

Wade had scribbled it down in his textbook, and ended up being late home from school that day because he was busy looking it up in the school library.

He could've cried with relief, honestly. A word. A diagnosis, even if he'd never get an official one. He wasn't some unique, one person freak show. It was a disorder. A disorder a lot of people suffered with.

He still struggled, but it was nice to have that layer of understanding.

His mutation made it worse. Changed the texture of his mouth, his tongue, and so things that had once been safe no longer were. He was practically starting from scratch, but he managed.

He got his ramen. His chicken nuggets. His boxed mac and cheese.

It was all fine and dandy and hey - on the plus side, the nutrionless crap he was eating couldn't kill him now! Unless heart disease could beat out regenerative healing, but when he considered how often Logan must've destroyed his liver by now - he figured he'd be fine.

Well, it was all fine until Logan moved in.

Him and Al never really 'cooked". They'd get take out, where Wade could get exactly as he wanted, or if not they didn't really eat together. Al would have whatever she was having, and Wade would knock himself up something of his own, and other than an occasional lighthearted comment about Wade having the dietary choices of a toddler, not much else was said. Al's comments didn't bother him anyway, because he knew they weren't insults. Didn't sting like his father's words.

He did their grocery shop too, so it all worked out fine.

When Logan moved in, he wanted to be helpful. He was struggling to find a job that would take him without a social security number or any form of identification that didn't technically belong to a man everyone knew to be dead. It meant he couldn't contribute to the rent and bills, and Wade knew he felt guilty about that even if he'd told him a million times over that it didn't matter.

He loved having Logan around. He'd pulled him from his own universe to be here. Giving him a roof over his head and sharing his bed while Al took the pullout really wasn't a big deal, and absolutely not something Logan had to repay him for.

He started taking on the domestic duties around the house as a way of payment anyway. The apartment had never been cleaner, that's for sure, and he took Mary Puppins on all of her walks.

It was fine. Everything was fine. Until Wade had came home from work one day and found that Logan had took it upon himself to go stock up on groceries, and cook dinner.

Wade hated how nervous seeing someone standing over a fucking stove made him. He knew a psychiatrist would probably give some dumb spiel about PTSD and unresolved trauma, but Wade just felt like a fucking idiot, freezing up in his own kitchen at the sight of Logan cooking and humming along to their old, shitty radio.

"Hey, how was work?" Logan glanced up from the steaks sizzling in the pan.

Wade needed to get it the fuck together. He couldn't let Logan realise how pathetic he truly was.

"Fine, dull," he replied with a shrug, hanging up his jacket and trying to quell the rising panic, but the smell alone was a lot and he could already feel his body tensing up, his fight or flight kicking in, and he wanted to scream and rip his own skin off because it was so fucking dumb.

"You alright, bub?" Logan asked, pulling Wade from his thoughts.

He nodded.

"Yeah I- need to shower," he excused, figuring it was a good enough reason to dip out and try to get a fucking grip.

"Alright," Logan said, eyebrow raised, "well dinners probably gonna be ready in twenty minutes or so."

Wade nodded, plastering on his best grin, "can't wait, peanut," he said, before quickly rushing out the room.

//

He felt like he was walking into the lions den, entering the kitchen. The shower and ten minute self pep talk did very little to fill him with confidence. Logan and Al were already sat at the table. Mary Puppins waited eagerly at their feet.

"There, the fuckers here. Can we eat now?" Al demanded, and Logan rolled his eyes but he was wearing one of those almost fond smiles, "go ahead."

Wade took his usual seat next to Logan, between him and Al, and picked up his knife and fork, staring down at the plate. Steak, mashed potatoes and green beans.

A normal fucking meal for an adult, and yet Wade felt his stomach tying itself into intricate knots just looking at it.

Al and Logan were chatting about the movie they'd watched last night, but their voices were muffled and distant. He scooped up a tiny bit of the potatoes, shoving it in before he could change his mind, forcing his throat to work and swallow it quickly. He could still taste it, could feel the texture imprinted onto his tastebuds.

He could do this. He could. Just get through one measly meal, and it would be fine. He already knew how strange he came across, and it was an honest to God miracle that Logan had stuck around - what if this was the final straw? Watching Wade waste the perfectly good meal he'd stood and cooked for him in favour of something beige and cooked in the microwave?

If he was going to lose Logan, it would have to be for a hell of a better reason than that.

He kept going, so focused on getting the food down that he missed the worried glances Logan was throwing his way.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but his thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of silverware.

"That was delicious. Who knew your dumbass could actually cook a meal?" Al commented, and when Wade looked up both of their plates were clear. He looked back to his own. At the single missing green bean, and pitiful dint in the mashed potatoes. The hardly distinguishable sliver of missing steak.

"I'm two hundred years old, picking up some hobbies here and there becomes a necessity to maintaining sanity," Logan shrugged, smiling, but it didn't feel like it was fully a joke and it only made Wade feel that much more guilty.

"Well, it's Wade's turn for dishes so I'm off to bingo. Don't wait up," Al left the table, barely side stepping Mary Puppins, and Wade could feel Logan's eyes on him now.

He didn't dare meet his gaze, forcing a bite of steak past his lips.

"What's up with you? You not into steak?"

There was no bite behind the words, and yet they made his breathing pick up all the same.

"I- I am, it's- good, honest. Thank you," he said, taking another bite, ignoring his body's protests, suppressing the shiver.

"Wade. Look at me," his head snapped to Logan. He was already in trouble. If he started being bad and not listening, it would hurt more, and he couldn't-

"Hey," Logan's voice was oddly soft when he spoke, but firm enough to get his attention. He reached over, pushed Wade's hands down gently, uncurled his fingers from their white knuckled grip around the cutlery.

Wade watched him do it, utterly confused.

"I'll eat it. I will, I'm trying," he hated the childlike panic that had taken over his brain. He felt like that four year old again, staring at his plate with a wobbling lip and damp eyes.

But he felt helpless to stop it.

"Do you not like it?" Logan asked.

Wade was biting his lip hard enough that he tasted blood, "it's... thank you. For making it for me."

"That's not an answer bub," Logan hummed, "do you like it or no?"

Wade chewed the torn skin of his bottom lip. Shook his head once. Tried to get his body to calm the fuck down.

Logan reached over. Wade flinched, cringing in on himself, eyes squeezed shut, bracing for an impact that never came. Instead he just used his thumb to release the lip Wade was using as a chew toy from between his teeth.

"Ok, that's alright. No worries, yeah? You want me to make you some of that ramen stuff you like instead?"

"I- I have food, you cooked me it, I shouldn't..." he trailed off when his throat felt tight.

"And you don't like it, which is completely fine. I'll clean up, you go sit on the couch and I'll bring you some ramen in soon."

"Logan-"

"Wasn't a request, bub. Go pick us a movie to watch," Logan stood, piling up all three plates, and Wade could've cried with relief honestly.

He got up and went to the couch, picking out Shaun of the Dead and sticking it in the pink Hello Kitty DVD player he'd scored years ago at the thrift store. He sat down, but his leg was bouncing like crazy and he couldn't get his eyes to focus.

Logan said it was fine, he reminded himself. He wasn't angry. But what if he was lying? What if he was just trying to lure him into a false sense of security? Make that first hit hurt even harder?

His dad had done that, in the past. Wade never understood why. Boredom, maybe? The same cycle of screaming at him, beating him bloody, rinse and repeat probably got old he supposed.

By the time Logan came over, bowl of noodles in hand, Wade was struggling through a fully fledged panic attack.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I'll- been bad, I'm sorry," he couldn't stop shaking, his breath punched out of him as he curled in on himself, burying his head in his knees which he pulled up tightly to his chest.

'You're a little pussy, no fucking son of mine. Stop hiding, boy!'

"Wade, Wade no. I'm not angry, you didn't do anything bad," he felt the couch dip next to him, and an arm wrapped around his back, pulling him against the solid warmth and familiar scent of Logan.

"I'm sorry," he didn't feel capable of saying anything else, and Logan shushed him softly, reaching out to grasp his hand, "it's fine, really. Look at me, sweetheart."

Wade reluctantly lifted his head, looking over at the older man who's face was filled with a genuine concern.

He hated that. Hated that he was so much of a fucking freak, making Logan worry about him because he couldn't get a damn grip on his own thoughts. He knew comforting people wasn't something that Logan necessarily enjoyed, and it was ridiculous and unfair for him to have to do it over something so small and dumb.

"I-"

"Shhh, just breathe. In and out. Slowly," Logan guided, emphasising his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles around Wade's shoulder.

Wade copied. Eventually, he felt his body relaxing somewhat. He didn't realise he was leaning so heavily against him, eyes slipping closed, until one of Logan's arms wrapped around his waist.

His cheeks burned, but Logan wasn't pushing him off, and there was something soothing about his body heat and listening to the beat of his heart, even if it was muffled by the metal binded to his ribcage.

He wasn't sure how long he lay snuggled into Logan's side, but eventually he felt able to speak a bit more, his throat not so tight and brain not so crowded.

"My dad used to... get mad, if I didn't eat what I was given. Used to beat me for it," he said quietly.

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Wade almost pulled back just to see if he could read his expression. The hand on his waist tightened, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to run patterns over his hip bones.

"Dad's fucking suck. Hell, I killed mine. I wish I could kill yours, for doing that to you."

A sick, deeply twisted part of him wanted Logan to do it. Wanted to watch as his dad squirmed on the floor, covered in blood and bruises, all while he begged for mercy from an angry man who was so much bigger and stronger than him. Poetic justice really, but...

"He's already dead, sadly. Heart attack a few years ago."

"I'd say sorry for your loss, but I'm not," Logan commented, and Wade snorted against him, "yeah, me neither."

The silence returned. Wade hated silence, usually. Would say any dumb shit to fill it. Except it felt kind of... nice, right now. Comfortable. He didn't mind stewing in it for a few minutes.

"You know I'd never..." Logan trailed off, struggling with his words for a moment, which was odd. Wade had never heard him do that.

"I'd never hurt you like that. I know that sounds dumb, given the fact we fought each other a million times in the void, but I wouldn't..." he trailed off again, grunting in frustration.

Wade finally lifted up enough to look at him.

"I know. It's different when we fight, anyway. I'm immortal. You're immortal. I get my own hits in, and I fight dirty. It's a level playing field. With my dad... he started when I was four. I didn't have much of a chance," he shrugged, ignoring the flash of anger on Logan's face at the number, "I kind of like our fights. They keep me on my game, and I know I can't actually hurt you permanently. It's more like..."

"Play fighting?" Logan finished, his tone teasing but Wade knew he was serious, knew it was probably the only accurate word for what they did, "yeah," he grinned, and Logan chuckled.

Silence returned, their gazes locked. Logan's eyes went impossibly soft, "you alright now, bub?"

Wade nodded, leaning into the touch of his hip, bringing his own hand to rest on Logan's chest, "yeah, thank you."

"You want your ramen?" Logan asked softly, hurriedly adding, "if not that's okay, you don't have to. Just don't want you going hungry."

Wade nodded, and separated reluctantly from Logan to grab the bowl. He immediately felt a brief shock of that familiar panic and dread, but forced himself to remember that Logan wasn't mad, hadn't left him, he was right there.

He started eating, and Logan's arm returned to his waist, tugging him back in against his chest so he was situated between the older mans legs.

He looked up with a small smile, but Logan was pointedly watching the TV, even if the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Eating the noodles was easy, and Wade didn't realise how hungry he'd been until it was gone.

"Can I ask you something? You don't gotta answer if you don't want to," Logan asked, taking the empty bowl from his hands and putting it on the coffee table.

"Sure," Wade shrugged, getting comfortable against him.

"It's... safe foods and stuff, right? You can only eat certain things? It's got a name, an annogram... starts with an A, I think?"

Wade sat up fully, brows furrowing as he looked over at Logan.

"ARFID. How do you know about that?" He asked, head tilting to the side. It's not something he had even knew where to start explaining to somebody like Logan. He worried he'd have the same outdated 'kids are just brats these days' kind of outlook on it that his dad did, but he scolded himself for that. Ever since they'd met, Logan had proved his stance on most topics was oddly forward thinking. Wade remembered one particularly impassioned rant about gay rights one night when some old trump clip had played on the news.

He just didn't expect Logan to know what it was at all, nevermind identify the behaviours as such.

"I never taught at the mansion, but I was around a lot. Charles said the kids liked me, for some reason, and I sort of became... not a counsellor, because I'm too fucked up for that, but just someone who the kids knew they could come to. Few of 'em struggled at meal times. Would come see me and I'd make chicken nuggets or whatever they felt able to eat. Sit with them while they did," Logan had that sort of glossy distant look in his eyes, the same one he always seemed to adopt whenever he'd reflect on his past.

Wade felt ready to melt into the damn couch cushions, his love for Logan increasing tenfold. There was a niggling sense of envy, too, just below the surface. He was glad the kids Logan cared for weren't abused for something out of their hands. That they were understood, even if only during their stay at the mansion.

But it didn't stop the jealousy from burning low and ugly inside of him. He never got that, never had an ounce of understanding from anyone. He was punished instead. Not starved, because he was always offered food technically, but in a way...

"I'm glad they had someone like you to support them. I'm sure that meant a lot," Wade said, no jokes, his face serious.

Logan looked away. That look grew more haunted, and he shook his head, "very little consolation considering most of them died because of me in the end."

"Lo, you didn't-"

"I know," Logan interrupted, his face completely unconvinced, "I know you disagree, that's fine. We don't... let's not talk about it again," he said, and Wade didn't want to drop it, wanted to argue until he lost his voice that what those people did wasn't Logan's fault - but it's an argument they'd had a million times over, and he never made any headway.

It always ended with Logan storming out to a bar to get pissed, likely in some dumb effort to prove how 'terrible' he was, and then they wouldn't speak for a few days until they both missed the other's company enough to put the debate and their pride aside.

So as much as Wade wanted to argue his point, he let it be done for now.

"Do need you to do me a favour though, bub."

"Hm?" Wade hummed.

"A list - all your safe foods. Bit pointless me shopping and cooking if I don't know what you can eat," Logan said, and Wade's throat went completely dry.

He'd wrote a list once. Only once. When he was nine, when he'd convinced himself his parents didn't hate him - they just didn't understand, and he could help. He wrote a list in his wobbly handwriting, the foods he liked - the foods he wouldn't need to expel from his body. He'd drew pictures next to each one. He'd gave it to his dad with a smile.

The smile had been slapped off his face. The list had been hung on the fridge, the only piece of his artwork to ever feature there, as a warning to his mother about what not to buy on their grocery trip.

And now here Logan was. Asking for one, so he could make sure he could stock those things, cook them for him.

He all but threw himself against Logan, who merely grunted at the impact, wrapping him easily in a hug while Wade practically squeezed the life out of him.

"Thank you," he mumbled against his neck.

"Don't mention it."

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Heyy!! I would do anything, and I mean ANYTHING for some John Brady domestic headcanons with a chronically ill reader? 🤍🤍

Nonny this ask is so very lovely and I’ve interpreted it as reader and Brady in a relationship but please let me know if you were hoping for something different!! 💙

Cut for length, no real warnings aside from references to Catholicism and spoon theory

John Brady is the kind of man who takes oaths and vows very seriously - I mean he volunteered for the Army Air Force and went overseas to bomb occupied Europe, they are more than just words to him

So he very much meant “for better or for worse” and “in sickness AND in health”

There is no question of spending his life with you, whether you come to the relationship with your illness or receive the diagnosis later on. You are his person and he is undeterred by the fact that this may come with some complications or difficulties

Hyper vigilant for any and all of your needs - present, imminent, perceived, potential or otherwise

Seems to thrive on memorizing your catalogue of triggers and symptoms and remedies. At times you may wonder how he has space in his head for anything else.

There would probably have to be some negotiation at first, his desire to keep you safe and comfortable feeling restrictive and overbearing. Sometimes you want to do things that cost a lot of spoons and have a lot of consequences. Sometimes these opportunities or events are worth the costs

John will have to have that explained to him because he cannot bear to see you suffer, so it is difficult for him to wrap his head around why you would knowingly put yourself in a position that will result in pain for the sake of enjoyment. It might help to bring up his flying adventures to illustrate your point.

I still don’t see him entirely understanding it but he will nonetheless respect your decision, now that he knows you are making a choice rather than simply overextending yourself carelessly, and be all the more supportive through the inevitable low that follows

He will still pull the plug, however, if you’re actually putting yourself in danger

More than happy to be the reason you leave anywhere early

“Have an early day at the office tomorrow” or “big project coming up.” It is NEVER because you’re feeling overwhelmed or unwell.

Practically an encyclopedia when it comes to your medications, specialists, and recent appointments. Does his best to attend all of them with you, colouring in the medical history when you look at him for specifics. If for some reason he’s not able to accompany you, he sends you with a list of information and helps you prep

Juggles being the primary income earner, cook, house keeper, and caregiver without complaint

In fact he is far too silent about it, particularly the first period where he literally tries to manage it all to his self-exacting level of perfection

Winds up incapacitated in bed beside you and there is another stern talk about realistic expectations

After a lot of trial and error the pair of you manage to find a very comfortable way of life, dealing with flare-ups as needed, easily pivoting to quiet nights in as required

I mean good for you for picking this man to make a home with, he’s not out there seeking the night life and bright lights anyway. A jazz record and cozy blanket and the person he loves is all he could ever ask for in an evening anyway

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so patho 3 quarantine huh? thoughts?

on one hand

the apathy-mania meter is cool, could add interesting weight to decisions in a way that makes sense for Daniil. a lot of Artemy's motivation (and p2's approach in particular) is rooted in the people around him, his friends and family and the Kin and the kids, but Daniil isn't truly integrated into any of these communities To That Extent. not that he doesn't care, but making his core mechanic so inward-facing fits with the contrast point of the earth vs the polyhedron, the heart vs the head, and the ways Artemy and Daniil embody it

it is objectively hilarious to level out by kicking dumpsters and banging on water pipes

graphics look good, for all that it's a little jarring

being able to talk to multiple people at once is exciting

non-linear storytelling can be so fun, I'm looking forward to seeing how they approach it and comparing to p1/p2 where time is soooo valuable. quarantine seemed to imply that you can choose between a few different days to travel to based on accumulation of some resource

the diagnosis mechanic is intriguing. makes it feel more like a video game lmao

but on the other hand

if they've truly done away with traditional survival mechanics in favor of the apathy-mania meter, I worry that they'll really struggle to balance the difficulty of the game around it. as it stands in quarantine, the meter fill rate seems wildly fast. maybe that's to compensate for lack of traditional survival elements, but if so then it's a much less nuanced, much less compelling system. taking drugs or smoking every few minutes so you don't blow your brains out reads as absurd. the frequency is higher than needing to manage hunger/thirst/exhaustion in p2 but again, they might trying to replace all of that with one (1) system without losing a significant part of what makes patho challenging. idk. seems lame. the other (preferable imo) way they could go is still including traditional survival meters and adding the mental health bar on top, but they'd need to severely reduce the impact of the mental health bar for the sake of balance

[cut bc this post ran away from me. more below]

funny as it is and also given that whole spiel about inward-facing mechaincs and motivation, kicking dumpsters doesn't really feel. in character? I don't want to nitpick but some of the voice lines when trying to shift the mental health meter are awful. "thoughts..... more thoughts......" like what?

not sure how I feel about the perspective switches that have you talking to Daniil instead of as him. the patho narrative experience has leaned pretty hard on putting the player inside the head and perspective of one character, that's part of what makes it so interesting to do multiple routes in p1. the bachelor route is restricted to Daniil's perspective and it skews how the player thinks about the game and the town and the characters, then the haruspex route contrasts again those preconceptions and you see Daniil from the outside, then the changeling route in Clara's head and so on and so forth. would the impact hold up if you could get out of Daniil's head in p1 or Artemy's in p2?

Mr. Little is a horribly clumsy execution of a tutorial that honestly didn't feel entirely necessary. what was explained was straightforward and what wasn't explained (like that you can select and cross off symptoms in your notebook for differential diagnosis) got really annoying until trial and error made sense of it. and I think some of that frustration came form "you gave a tutorial but it didn't explain everything" where skipping the conversational explanation altogether would've worked too. it's all just a worse version of Artemy talking to the tumbler human in p2

fast travel is convenient. patho has never been about convenience. it should at least be an optional mechanic instead of defaulting to blitzing you through healthy districts, and should probably be disabled on "intended" difficulty. I also like the idea of being able to place more markers/routes on the map but again. convenient. should be optional and probably disabled on the "intended" difficulty. very mixed on this

I do wonder if we'll get difficulty options. I kind of philosophically disagree with IPL folding under pressure and adding an easy mode that's balanced worse and isn't true to their vision but whatever

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You’re All I Need

Premise: Tinsel is the perfect accessory for a sexy new holiday tradition.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: NSFW (18+). Fluff. Words: 1,260

A/N: I'm using @choicesflashfics week 65, prompt 2 and prompt 2 from the Flashfics Holiday list. Submission for @choicesholidays and @choicesficwriterscreations holiday events. Also submitting to @choicesdecember2023 prompt "Christmas card"

Ethan Ramsey enjoyed sex. He might have stumbled the first time. Losing one’s virginity did that to a guy. But once he applied his scientific mind to the matter, he improved. After twenty-odd years of practice, he believed he knew everything. His lovers had never complained.

And yet, something about Cassie Valentine made him think he could do with more practice. She had always pushed him out of his comfort zone professionally. It was no different in the bedroom. Cassie was more fluid, willing to experiment and unhesitant to voice her desires.

The first time she’d broached the idea of roleplay, he had hesitated. He was not an actor. Anyone who had known him for over five minutes could attest to that. But when it came to their sexcapades, he was undoubtedly deserving of an Academy Award.

Ethan knew she liked it when he took control. If he was honest with himself, he liked it too. But he’d still been surprised when she suggested handcuffs and a blindfold.

“There’s something about being at your mercy that turns me on,” she explained. “But if that doesn’t work for you, I understand. We can consider it unsaid.”

Like any good diagnostician, he couldn’t honestly say no without giving it a shot. A blind diagnosis only goes so far. At some point, you have to run a few tests to get an accurate prognosis.

They found blindfolds fun but handcuffs too restrictive. Cassie wanted to lock her arms around his neck as she climaxed, and Ethan needed his hand clasped with hers when he let go. They finally settled on using one of his ties, loosely knotted around her wrists.

Ethan supposed tinsel was just as flexible a material for tying up his lover. At least, he’d thought so when he suggested it as they tidied up after their tree trimming.

“It’s scratchy,” Cassie pouted, squirming on his bed, arms stretched tautly above her head. The edges of the red tinsel sparkled against her skin.

He slowly traced his index finger down the slope of her nose and pressed down on her bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when she nipped the edge with her teeth.

“That should be our Christmas card this year,” he smirked, his eyes darkening when her nipples pebbled from the cold, her breasts heaving with anticipation.

Narrowing her eyes in frustration, she huffed. “How much longer are you going to taunt me?”

“Patience,” he drawled, enjoying the way her breath hitched as he trailed his hand down her throat, past her collarbone.

His thumb flicked over her nipple, repeating the motion until it stood erect. Cupping her other breast, he bowed his head and suckled, grazing the small nub with his teeth. He felt her heart jump, her breathing becoming labored as her body flushed with arousal.

“More,” she pleaded, hips lifting off the bed as he lightly bit the soft flesh.

Ethan gripped the sides of her hips and held them down, savoring his control over her body. He slowly kissed his way down her torso, past her belly button, nuzzling the top of her sex. Cassie’s moans echoed around him, and his cock pushed against the front of his pants. But he wasn’t ready to end this just yet.

He picked up a leftover piece of tinsel and teased the sensitive folds at the apex of her thighs with the edge of the rough material, back and forth, again and again, until she cried out in desperation.

“I need your mouth,” she begged, the words coming out strangled as she rolled her hips, pressing deeper into his touch.

Quickly shedding his clothes, Ethan positioned himself at the bottom of the bed and draped Cassie’s ankles over his shoulders. She lifted her head to watch as his fingers dug into her inner thighs.

Holding her captive, he parted her folds and stared at her glistening arousal. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent. Her eyes drifted closed, and she fell back on the pillow while he nibbled, sucked and lapped up her wetness.

She writhed against his mouth as he thrust his index finger inside her, then another. His hand splayed across her belly, fingers clenching, leaving marks. He could feel her fighting the orgasm and added a third finger, the heel of his palm pressing roughly against the sensitive nub.

“Don’t hold back,” he growled, intensifying his thrusts,

“Inside me,” she panted, nearly screaming. “Now!”

“I am,” he chuckled wickedly, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

“Not enough,” she groaned, her thighs quivering as her legs slipped off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, but I’m done waiting.” Cassie pulled against the tinsel crisscrossed around her wrists. “I need all of you.”

Ethan watched her breasts wobble as she struggled against the restraints, the material tightening with every move.

Stretching above her, he grabbed her hands and quickly untied the tinsel. He cursed when a knot slipped from his fingers. His dick throbbed, and he could feel the wetness from pre-cum start to ooze. He ached to have her.

Sensing he was close to the edge, Cassie locked her legs behind his ass, cradling his erection between her inner thighs.

Freeing her hands, he threw the tinsel behind him. His strong arms lifted around her until she practically sat on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed him back onto the bed, rising above him as she slammed herself on his erection.

He grunted when her heat surrounded his cock and resisted the urge to thrust upward. Now that he was where he belonged, he was in no hurry to finish this. Cassie had other ideas.

She planted her hands on his chest and leaned down to cover his mouth, her tongue tracing the seams. He parted his lips, and her tongue darted inside, tangling with his. Her sharp fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Ethan reached for her hands, entwining their fingers and tightening his grip. Her long blonde hair fell to the sides, curtaining them from the world outside, her green eyes locked on his blue ones.

She started to ride him harder and faster, her cries mingling with the guttural sounds escaping his lips as the pressure built. She screamed his name as the orgasm soared through her.

He felt every tremor coursing through her body and kept thrusting deeper and harder until she cried out again, and then, and only then, he let himself climax, his penis almost twitching in pain as he emptied completely.

The ticking of the clock on the wall was loud in the silence that followed. Ethan lazily opened his eyes and lifted his head to see Cassie sprawled across him, her legs falling off the edge of the bed.

He adjusted their positions, nestling her against his side, her chest rising and falling as her breathing evened out. He folded her between his arms, placing two fingers on the bottom of her chin to lift her face until they were eye to eye.

“That was….” he trailed off, trying to find the words to express how she’d rocked his world.

“A holiday tradition worth keeping?” she suggested, a wry smile hovering on her lips. She angled her head and grazed her lips across the edge of his jaw.

Instead of responding, he nuzzled her face before gliding his lips warmly across hers, keeping her locked against him as he deepened the kiss.

Yes, he thought much later, snuggling Cassie in his arms. This was one tradition he looked forward to celebrating every Christmas from here onward.

------------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate @zealouscanonindeer

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Life update to kinda explain my distance from Paper Airplanes, sorry this is so long:

(☆Short explanation: 1.more working hours, 2.tiny living space, 3.unattended/worsening injury☆)

Ik my audience is still pretty small BUT I do still apologize for dragging my feet on this next chapter. I have a majority of it done but usually I'm severely out of spoons to get it all finished up.

1. I think a part of my problem is my new major is basically entirely online. (Yes, I did leave CS finally and my mental health has improved DRASTICALLY in terms of academic life) Because of this I now work a shit ton of hours which is great for my wallet but now that little 50min-1hr break between classes I used to have is gone I no longer have my quiet study and writing time. It's office hours and then home. And home isn't bad, but it isn't the most comfortable place either.

2. My boyfriend and I share a room and sleep in a twin bed together, not a problem until you're back to back in your desk chairs lol AND there's like 4-5 people living in the same living area as you so it's just really cramped and hard to find a nice and comfortable place to write lol. I'm still very blessed to have a roof over my head and all that jazz but we were looking for an apartment however his father did not approve us living together (we already live together in secret and even offered to get a two bedroom) but his father refused, which means we would not get his parents hand me down furniture they promised him when he got his first apartment. Anybody with Hispanic and especially religious Hispanic parents probably gets that even though you're an adult you're not really an adult in their eyes which is a problem with a collective culture I think.

3.And an unfortunate update but I've developed snapping hip syndrome which I know I've technically had since high school but the intense physical demand of collegiate cheer has made it extremely painful. The pain started about a year ago and has progressed even further now. The problem is our assigned athletic trainer had resigned over the summer, with her gone we no longer had anyone specific assigned to our cheer or dance problems. This posed a risk to our safety as before her our program struggled to be taken care of seriously and given medical attention when needed. We had asked our department director if we were guaranteed medical care even without her and he promised us we would not have the problems we once had. This was most definitely a lie. I reported this pain in early October and still have yet to be seen other than the initial consultation that lead to my diagnosis. There is nothing worse than knowing what's wrong with you but NOBODY is interested in helping you and if you seek medical care outside of the university you could face punishment. I will likely not been seen until somewhere in January if I'm lucky and there is no other reason for this other than the current team of athletic trainers not believing we are truly athletes. My condition is worsening to the point I'm non functioning without some sort of OTC pain med and it's absolutely ruining my quality of life. Oh and btw thank the Varsity Sprit ™️ monopoly for the reason cheerleaders can't be a part of athletics (NCAA), they will happily hold our status as athletes and the ability to compete alongside them for a couple bucks. This makes our status on campus so low and nobody takes us seriously, our university isn't even interested in contracting another trainer even though our department swore this situation would only be temporary. It's ruining my mental and physical health because I can no longer work out AT ALL or do any of my typical cheerleading activities because of my restrictions, and with PT (or even further care considering this has been unattended for so long) I likely won't be able to do anything until March-ish which is NOT EVEN ONE MONTH from our cheerleading nationals, especially as this is my last year. I'm angry and hurt from how I and my teammates have been treated. Hurt physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm not even worth the time of day to be treated for serious chronic pain.

Anyway. Enough whining, hopefully I can finish some stuff up soon. Love yall guys sm!!!

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He’s Always Running, Jumping, Spinning. I Can’t Catch Him.

“He Can’t Sit Still. He Climbs Everything.

He Spins Till He Falls. Then Gets Up And Spins Again.”

Suresh’s son, Arnav, was 4. He ran from room to room. Climbed shelves. Jumped on beds. Spun in circles. He wasn’t aggressive — but he waseverywhere.

“We child-proofed every corner of the house. And still… we couldn’t keep up.”

Family said:

“Boys are like that.” Teachers said: “He’s too disruptive.”

But Suresh knew:

“This wasn’t energy. It wassomething else.”

🧠 When Movement Isn’t Mischief — It’s Sensory

AtPinnacle® Gajuwaka, occupational therapists explain:

“Children with proprioceptive sensory-seeking behaviors don’t move to misbehave. They move to feelregulated. Movement calms them — because their body’s awareness system is under-responsive.”

Common signs:

Constant running, jumping, crashing

Preferring pressure, weight, spinning

Clumsy, uncoordinated, tireless

Meltdowns if movement is restricted

Overstimulation after sitting still

📞 The Moment They Realized “Tired” Wasn’t the Goal

Suresh and his wife thought exhausting their son would solve it.

Park. Trampoline. Walks.

But after hours of play, he wasmorewired. Not calmer.

“We didn’t need to wear him out. We needed to help him regulate.”

They called9100 181 181, and got a freeAbilityScore©® OT ScreeningatPinnacle® Gajuwaka.

📊 Arnav’s AbilityScore©® OT Zone Report

Proprioception Response: 🔴 Red (460/1000)

Vestibular Regulation: 🔴 Red

Fine Motor Focus: 🟡 Yellow

Task Endurance: 🔴 Red

Cognitive Reasoning: 🟢 Green

He wasn’t wild. He wasseeking stimulation— to feel safe in his own body.

🤖 How TherapeuticAI©® Redirected The Chaos

Instead of trying to control his energy, therapy:

Structured it

Used it

Transformed it

Arnav’s plan included:

Obstacle courses for pressure balance

Heavy work (pulling, pushing, lifting) to calm the system

“Spin and pause” regulation drills

Pre-task movement routine before school

Home activity kits for parents to channel energy

By week 5:

He sat through circle time at preschool

Waited for his turn during snack

Asked“Jump now?”instead of crashing impulsively

“We didn’t take away his movement. We gave it meaning.”

💬 What His Parents Say Now

“You don’t calm a child like Arnav with silence. You calm him by listening to what hisbodyis asking for — and giving it smartly.”

🌍 This Autism Awareness Month — Don’t Just Say “Hyper.” Ask “Why?”

If your child: ✅ Can’t stop running, climbing, or spinning ✅ Gets clumsy or aggressive during calm time ✅ Always seeks big movement ✅ Melts down when told “sit still”

…it’s not disobedience. It’sproprioceptive sensory-seeking— and OT helps.

📞 Book a Free OT Screening in Gajuwaka Today

📞Call the Pinnacle® National Autism Helpline: 9100 181 181 🌐www.Pinnacleblooms.org 📍 Gajuwaka | NAD | Madhurawada | Jagadamba | Visakhapatnam

✅ Free AbilityScore©® OT Zone Screening ✅ TherapeuticAI©®-Guided Regulation Plan ✅ Telugu + English OT Therapists ✅ Home Movement Kits + School Strategies

⚠️ Disclaimer

This article is intended for informational and awareness purposes only. It is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. For expert guidance tailored to your child’s needs, please consult a qualified healthcare provider or contact the Pinnacle® National Autism Helpline at9100 181 181.

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It’s so funny learning more and more about my place on the autism and ADHD spectrum because me and my dad have A LOT in common. We’ve been very similar people my whole life and it’s great cuz we’re just really good friends

But every time I realise a quirk of mine is related to autism or ADHD, I look at my father doing the exact same thing and just go

OH

HUH

HEY NOW

THAT SURE IS FAMILIAR LOOKING

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Idia Shroud is Autistic-Coded; Here's Why

Hello! Happy Autism Awareness Month! In celebration, I will be posting a wholeeee load of autistic traits I have found in Idia. This is coming from a person who, while undiagnosed, is most likely autistic.

If you have any additions, please tell me in whatever way is most convenient (comments, reblogs, asks, dms... whatever.) This list will likely be evergrowing as more events, vignettes, and story content are added to TWST. Some of these may be a stretch but ya know.

This is organized by trait for your (and my) convenience. Begins under cut!

*Warning, I am not a medical professional. I'm just autistic and for a while got fixated on autism itself. Which is why I call myself autistic... I've been researching this shit for many years lol

We'll be starting with DSM-5 requirements in order to be diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. Then, we will move to common experiences (things that most autistic people experience, but aren't a tell-tale sign that you're autistic and aren't a requirement for a professional diagnosis.) Finally will be disorders that Idia shows symptoms of that tend to co-occur with ASD.

Numbered list will explain the traits Idia demonstrates. At the end, the diagnostic criteria specified will be stated in parentheses and quotation marks.

A) Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts...

Generally, Idia is seen to have trouble communicating with his peers if not behind a screen or while interacting with something he enjoys (such as talking about anime or playing a board game.) ("Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation...")

Idia's way of expressing emotion is difficult to pin down. He will go from speaking very quietly (and stuttering usually) in a near-monotone voice with an "emotionless" expression to talking loudly, quickly, and with a HUGE smile on his face. We don't quite get to see how he responds to nonverbal communication or how he portrays it himself (probably because it doesn't come up, or because of live2d restrictions), but we do learn that he hates eye contact I believe in his Birthday Boy vignette when he claims to hate having to laugh and make eye contact with normies (masking right there buddy go to a doctor) ("Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.")

This is where it could kinda get stretchy, partially because I for the life of me am having trouble understanding A.3. BUT. Idia is often very blunt, to the point where he's straight up rude, especially in situations where that kind of attitude is... not very helpful. See the Phantom Bride event when he chastises the boys coming to rescue him for looking disheveled after fighting for their lives, which makes them not want to rescue him despite his life being on the line (I think Ace even goes off on him for this lol.) Furthermore, the only people amongst his peers that he will indulge are Azul, Ortho and (unknowingly, and only online) Lilia. The rest he has zero interest in, whether he despises or is scared of them. They're all normies. Finally, it's shown that throughout his life he has had very little if not zero friends in real life aside from Ortho. To be fair, I don't think there were many kids his age back home lol. ("Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.")

Part one of an autism diagnosis down! Idia shows persistent deficits in each social and communication area specified through A.1-A.3. In order to be diagnosed, you also much show two out of four of restricted, repetitive behaviors specified through B.1-B.4 below.

B) Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history...

Due to live2d restrictions, we never exactly get to see Idia physically stim. (Well, I'd argue we get to see Floyd physically stim with his constant swaying back and forth, but not like they can flap their hands or anything.) This one's a stretch, but his form of verbal stimming could be the little sound effects he makes at times, mostly in book 6 actually. Specifically, his "DA DA DA DAAAAA" after explaining the plot of Star Rogue to the overblot victims in Styx as well as his "BOOM BADA BOOM BOOM BOOM! HAH!" after finishing Ortho in the flashback sequence. Other than that, the only other ideas I'd have for repetitive movements or sounds are headcanons. I don't know if I'd count this one. ("Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech")

This is another one I don't think we ever see in-game. I don't know... the things I could consider part of this criteria would better fit as sensory things~! Again I'm an Idia connoisseur but if you know anything about this please tell me I will update this one. ("Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior")

Idia is shown to have MULTIPLE very strong interests. Whether this might be a special interest or hyperfixation... it's hard to tell, but I can sure guess. The longest-running interest we see him show to have, originating from way back when Ortho was still alive, is Star Rogue. Because he seems to know nearly everything about the game and has also maintained the interest for a long time, I would consider this a special interest (along with engineering and technomancy, which he's said to have excelled in since a young age.) Idia does talk about certain specific animes and other games he enjoys, but not to the degree of Star Rogue (yes that's my basis here), so I don't know if that's a special interest or just a hyperfixation. It's the same situation with idol groups, particularly Premo (or Fates on the Edge). This isn't even it. That man is fandom trash and I love him. ("Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus")

Idia is shown on multiple occasions to have sensory issues. To the point where, similarly to his strong interests, I don't know if I know half of it. During the Phantom Bride event and his Union Birthday vignette, Idia complains about his neck feeling cold due to his hair being brushed behind his hair (PB) or up in a ponytail (UB). He also complains about his Phantom Bride suit AND his Birthday Boy suit being "stuffy", but that one could also be a stretch. In the Harveston event, Idia says that he only eats his apples canned or peeled, which I'd chop up to sensory issues once again. (Although, that one could also be under B.2) Idia constantly has his headphones around his neck to listen to music. A bit of a stretch, but they're also noise canceling, so there's a chance he uses them to avoid overstimulation. Finally, Idia states that he doesn't like fish because it's smelly and slimy. I get that Idia raw fish is texture hell. As far as I know, there's no point in which Idia under-reacts to sensory input (e.g. pain) or becomes very invested in it (like staring at a moving wheel.) ("Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment")

And there we have it. Autism diagnosis. Idia demonstrates persistent deficits in all three sections under A and at least two sections under B. BUT WAIT! We still have C-E!

C) Symptoms must be present in the early developmental period (but may not become fully manifest until social demands exceed limited capacities, or may be masked by learned strategies in later life).

Really, the only point in which we see Idia demonstrate autistic traits in early life is his interest in Star Rogue. This is probably just because of how the storyline is. We actually don't know very much about Idia OR Ortho when they were young. However I would argue that Idia does mask because of the multiple times where he immediately just gets upset prior to talking to someone (something he probably hides during conversation). And ofc that one time he complains about talking to normies in his Birthday Boy vignette (? it could've be a voice line.)

D) Symptoms cause clinically significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of current functioning.

Idia's symptoms in fact significantly impair his life. I think that alone is obvious enough. We see it every time that man's on screen.

E) These disturbances are not better explained by intellectual disability (intellectual developmental disorder) or global developmental delay...

Symptoms that Idia experiences could very well be explained by other mental disorders such as social anxiety, but these are not intellectual disabilities. Explaining away ASD for Idia falls into a trap many autistic people do in real life with medical professionals who just can't believe that their patient is autistic for one reason or another; these people will sometimes receive a dozen different diagnoses that all could be better explained by autism spectrum disorder. That's not very cool. Therefore, this does not apply.

Specifically, Idia would likely have ASD co-morbid with social anxiety and most likely clinical depression. (I HAVE done some minor research into Idia and bipolar disorder, but that's a situation for another day and far more of a stretch than ASD ever could be.)

DSM-5 requirements cleared! Next stage, common experiences.

This is another thing I will need help for because it's not like there's scholarly articles on "things a lot of autistic people experience but it's definitely not something a doctor will ask you about." So please share. This is the list that will never stop growing.

Abnormal posture (Crewel gets onto Idia for not standing up straight, he often is portrayed sitting in chairs with his knees to his chest, and he's seen doing "dino hands" or "T-Rex arms" in battle mode on occasion.)

Target of bullying (Many autistic people, especially autistic girls, tend to be bullied more often than their allistic peers. While not always to his face, people do tend to talk bad about Idia behind his back, Ortho even has a 'Don't Talk Shit About My Brother' beam for the bullies lol.)

More tone + social stuff... (Things that the DSM-5 thing didn't quite fit. In book 6 he jokes about torturing the overblots and when everyone's like 'dude wtf' he's like 'what it was a joke dumbass.' Could be written off as just an odd sense of humor, or it could be difficulty reading the room lol.)

A love for lists and organization. (When Idia speaks autonomously in your guest room, he mentions having things exactly where you need them and how it's 'convenience'. He also seems to have a knack for practicality. It's not too much of a stretch to say it ties into a need for organization.) (Idia has every NRC student organized into multiple tier lists on the R-SSR rating system like the in-game cards based on certain factors, such as most social.)

Easily startled. (Self-explanatory. HieEh.)

Preference for connection through interests. (Another reason why he is disconnected from those around him, aside from the whole trauma thing, and calls most other people "normies." They don't "get" his interests, so he has no interest in being friends with them.)

Difficulty with processing time. (Remember when he had apparently been working on Ortho's uhhh starsender gear? For like 12 hours straight?"

Relaxes through interacting with interests (In the vignette I referenced in 7, when Ortho tells him to take a break, he decides to play Star Rogue. Ortho meant to sleep.)

Putting off needs until one can not longer ignore them. (Idia often gets so engrossed in what he's doing that he forgets to do basic self-care tasks like eating.)

Infodumping. (Shown a lot in book 6. Namely with his like 2-3 minute long rant about Star Rogue. The rest, such as him rambling on and on about Styx, seems to be used so the audience knows what the HELL is happening. He does go on rants outside of this book tho.)

Gifted kid (Yeah he was called a "boy genius.")

This is not a complete list by any means, I could go on for DAYS.

On the topic of co-occurring disorders, the two most obvious disorders Idia clearly is dealing with are social anxiety and depression. Both of which are often co-morbid with ASD.

While social anxiety and ASD have a lot of overlap, they aren't the same thing, but often autism can contribute to the development of social anxiety through masking and the general difficulties in socializing that come with autism. Allistic people tend to react negatively in response to an autistic person doing something that the allistic person deems unorthodox. This reaction can often cause a lot of internal turmoil for the autistic person due to rejection-sensitive dysphoria. Furthermore, masking requires a high level of awareness of one's environment as well as the judgment of others. Thus, social anxiety can often develop.

While I don't know how exactly autism might affect depression as it does social anxiety, I do know that depression is VERY common in autistic adults. 5 in 10 adults with ASD have depression, and living in a world built for those who are neurotypical is hard for anyone who is neurodivergent, which definitely does not help. And it sure as hell has to make it worse for Idia of all people.

Additions made by others (tysm!): @hey-haven mentions in a reblog Idia's low empathy towards other people. I recommend heading over to their blog to check out what they said because they do make an amazing point and it's probably far better than anything I could explain (lol). But to paraphrase, they cite specifically Idia making fun of his classmates who just fought for their lives to rescue him during the Phantom Bride event and his attitude towards the overblot victims and their reactions to being essentially kidnapped during book 6, in which he seems to not really "get" why they're so upset. Generally, when it surrounds emotions that aren't his own, he's pretty oblivious. They also bring up his little "whee-hee-hee" laugh! It brings up an observation I've seen of autistic people (seemingly) laughing at "random" or generally inappropriate times because we tend to express laughter in a voiced manner (like laughing out loud because you find something genuinely funny) rather than an unvoiced manner (like the little exhale you do at a funny photo on your phone). Idia laughs a lot, I don't know if it's realistic to connect it to autism or if it's better explained by him just being a weird guy (which I love about him don't get me wrong lol.) Although the study about this was with specifically autistic and non-autistic children though... it's food for thought I guess.

And with that, my essay comes to a close. Again, happy Autism Awareness Month! Share some of your favorite autistic, canon or otherwise, characters and boost autistic creators! And remember to not support Autism Speaks :)

Thank you for listening.

-Alpaca (autistic Idia Shroud enthusiast)

P.S. this post is so long that it's making my PC lag LMAOOOO

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i identified as a trans man for several years and recently came out as nonbinary. i don't think i ever really felt like a man, but i did a lot of repression with it for a while.

the part that complicates it the most is that i struggle with dissociation. i don't want to claim a label, but my doctor suspects that i have DID or OSDD. i have pretty bad dissociative amnesia. i didn't think it was uncommon for someone to not have knowledge of alter names, genders, and pronouns, but i feel really alienated after being online because i don't have an excel spreadsheet type of knowledge i guess.

with gender, it's frustrating because i want to understand myself better but there's so much self to sort through. there have been days with he/him, others they/them, and others i haven't corrected people when they said she/her, and others i wish i didn't have to use pronouns at all, or even a name. i'm worried if i try to explain it to someone they'll say i'm genderfluid but i don't remember a lot of those days, i only really know about them through things other people have told me and things that have been written down.

i don't really know if there's a way i can sum this up well, i apologize- it's just hard because i want so badly to have an idea of at least THIS gender, and what it is when i don't remember. i've always wanted a perfect label that encompasses things, even before i was really aware of dissociating. but i don't think i can ever find that.

i wanted to grab my desk and shake it and scream SAME the whole time i was reading this TBH

it's okay if you don't know what's going on right now, but i'm glad you're getting some care for your dissociative symptoms! it took us a few years to get a diagnosis because most clinicians aren't great at dealing with dissociation. luckily when we were getting screened for disability the first time years ago, the therapist screening us then caught it and brought it to our attention. it can take a while. either way i'm glad they're acknowledging it at least

we were the same way, where we didn't really identify (entirely) as a binary trans man on the whole, but came out as a binary trans guy in order to pass for safety reasons, and to get people to take our transition "more seriously" (our words, not that i believe that should have to happen). the host in our system at the time was a binary guy so it fit him, but only him. he was very oblivious to the rest of the system and really was only aware of passive influence and such

it's really hard to wake up every day and have a flurry of changes go on. it's hard to not know who "you" really are, which "you" is the one that you want to adopt or project on to the body. having a unified outward image is the hardest part and i get what you're saying, that's what we've struggled with the most- that's why we don't usually boil our identity down to something too simple because it can feel restricting and inaccurate at times, but at the same times, sometimes you just. want something simple

maybe for you all, what might help is trying to write down how the vast majority of you feel, and try to represent as many of you as you can. for us, it was easiest to adopt the fagdyke/gaybian and bigender labels, since it's more specific to us- we are a system of about 50/50 gay men and lesbians. if we don't feel like being specific or aren't around other queer people, we just say "bisexual" since that's also true- it's just the way we experience our bisexual attraction that is specific.

sometimes terms like 'genderqueer', 'queer' or simply just trans/transsexual can really help alleviate some of that if you feel overwhelmed. sometimes it really is the most helpful to return to the absolute most basic terms that you can, and build your way back up. sometimes you're just trans or queer. sometimes, you can't possibly put a word on it, and it's okay. it's okay that you don't have a label for it right now, even though you'd all like one. it's hard to figure these things out

transness, plurality & dissociative disorders have massive overlap. i was talking to a previous therapist who told me it's almost 1:1 in terms of the two- and it makes sense, if there are more than one of you living in a body, the likelihood of you having differing genders increases drastically. and trans and queer people are statistically more likely to endure severe traumas, so they just go hand in hand

i rambled a bit, but i hope youre able to figure something out for yourselves and find something that makes you all feel represented and comfortable. it's really hard, we still struggle with it- we really struggle with pronouns at the moment. it's a process. take care, feel free to stop by again at any point!

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Fatphobia is NOT a "Western" or "American" issue - it is EVERYWHERE!

I am seeing a lot of posts about fatphobic doctors and how they refuse to support their fat patients properly, and how it almost kills the fat patients at times. ThenI read a lot of extremely tone deaf comments like:

“American doctors are so cruel…” “Healthcare in the USA is terrible”

As if ONLY American doctors are guilty of this. Well I’m here to say that, No, actually, horrible doctors don’t have a specific country of origin nor do they only exist within certain geographical areas.

I am from Kuwait. The Middle East. More precisely, the Arabian Gulf. That’s nowhere near USA, Canada, or any European country. Kuwait has very high overw****t and ob***ty rates. Don’t quote me on the exact percentages but we’re talking ~40% ob**s and ~75% overw****t. Odds are if you’re Kuwaiti you’re either fat yourself or your friends and family are.

Diabetes and hypertension are at ridiculously high rates here too. Odds are if you’re Kuwaiti you either have one or both yourself, or your friends and family do.

Doctors here are fatphobic AF. There are surrounded by fat people – and most of them are fat themselves. Yet they still prescribe weight loss and restrictive diets to “cure” acute and chronic illnesses.

Boy do I have some FUCKED UP stories. Buckle up.

My fat sister had a middle ear infection. Her doctor (who was also fat!) said it was because she was unhygienic because she was fat and not cleaning her ears properly. It lasted for SIX WEEKS. She was in unbearable pain. We begged her to see a different doctor. Spoiler alert: it was a viral infection caused by a virus, not some phantom fat infection. She received treatment and had the fluid removed.

My fat teenage cousin was feeling dizzy, couldn’t focus, and was always tired. Doctors diagnosed him with Fat and said he should lose weight by going on a 1200 calorie diet and exercising (umm.. he was always tired how could he exercise?!). He went on a restrictive diet that the doctor prescribed—not a dietitian, mind you! –and fainted several times. The doctor told him he was being dramatic and attention seeking. Wow what excellent bedside manner, and what a great thing to tell a CHILD! (sarcasm) Turns out my cousin had low blood pressure (explains the dizziness) and genetically inherited low blood sugar (Explains why he couldn’t focus and was tired). The restrictive diet made it worse. You’d think that in a country with so many people with diabetes and high blood pressure, they’d be more aware of these things and test for them first. Fatphobia clouds their judgment.

My friend’s fat mother had pain in her abdomen that just wouldn’t go away. Doctors said it was because of poor eating habits. She told them she hadn’t changed her eating habits so where would this pain come from? The doctors (she saw someone in internal medicine and a OBGYN) said that her “bad eating habits” were “catching up” on her. They ran zero tests. No imaging. No scanning. Just told her to stop eating so much, Fatty. She started having trouble breathing, and she had pain in her back as well. Doctors still insisted she was reaping what she sowed for being fat. No diagnosis other than “Fat consequences”, and no support other than “stop being so fat”. She was rushed to the hospital by ambulance after she collapsed in the supermarket. She had a tumor that was growing quickly and also pressing on her nerves. (She is fine now)

I should mention that our healthcare system is completely different to the US. Our healthcare is free (government-funded), so the comments about how the American healthcare system is broken and that's why fatphobia is rampant doesn't make any sense.. Our healthcare is FREE and we still have fatphobia here!

Fatphobic doctors don’t have a nationality. They don’t have a race. They don’t have a gender. They don’t have a class. Fatphobia in medicine is everywhere, even in fat countries, even in fat doctors themselves. These stories could have happened anywhere in the world, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they already did happen in other places. Fatphobia isn’t a “Western” disease, or a “Western” mindset, and it most certainly isn’t exclusive to US Americans. Fatphobic doctors are not endemic to the USA. Fatphobia is everywhere in medicine.

______

Mod squirrel: oh God this is why weight first treatment is so bad. I'm glad that these people eventually got treatment they needed, I'm so sorry they had to suffer to get there.

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This need to “explain” Sam not fulfilling his original MIQ commitments from various factions needs to be addressed.

Clearly he is in LA.

Clearly both Graham and the director for MIK are both in NZ. And most likely additional crew too. Waiting for Sam.

It must be infuriating for all concerned. Sam is the OG recalcitrant during these nearly two years as regards the pandemic and international travel. Always underestimating and over promising. And then never truthful.

It’s clear that the only logical explanation is that Sam tested positive in his PCR test. Boarding would have been denied. As a result he lost his allocation in MIQ.

2 options to consider. One, Omicron positive. Two a result that is historically based.

People diagnosed with COVID-19 can continue to test positive for some months after resolution of symptoms and their infectious period has past; medically this is referred to as ‘persistent shedders’.

When you take a PCR test as someone who has had COVID-19 it is possible for you to receive an inconclusive result where ‘historic viral fragments’ are detected. These results are where the PCR test ‘picks up’ on the viral fragments consistent with an infection, but does not identify the presence of an active infectiousness. Under public health principles, a clinician analyses all inconclusive results to determine whether the infection is historic (and therefore the individual is eligible for release from self isolation restrictions) or current (and therefore is subject to public health orders).

In countries like Australia and New Zealand, making that determination on historic or current infection takes time and needs to be undertaken by a doctor with infectious disease expertise.

Time which Sam did not have. Because he was once again leaving no room for error/positive diagnosis. In this case not being assessed by a doctor in time for his departure on the only flight that would get him to NZ and his allocated quarantine slot.

I come back to his recalcitrance, stubbornness and outright dishonesty. Being truthful and factual would have been the best option, after all he had advertised a Dram with Sam in quarantine, signaling his location and commitment to being in NZ. But when you are becoming more conditioned to lying as a default, it easier to fudge and rely on PR fixes and the obsessive willingness of fans to buy what you are selling.

Hell, bigger stars than him have acknowledged their positive status. The OG was Tom Hanks way back in 2020. Why the continued need to mask the obvious with lies? Hugh Jackman has just disclosed he is positive, as a responsible member of a current production in The Music Man

Below is the latest updates re foreign production in NZ. This is already TL;DR but for clarity it’s worth a read.

If you are still reading you all know where I stand. Sam has a son with Caitriona. They are a family. What I don’t subscribe to is this continued need to excuse bad decisions that have ramifications for a production, a very good friend/costar and crew with obfuscations.

https://www.nzfilm.co.nz/sites/default/files/2021-11/22%20December%202021%20-%20NZFC%20Fact%20Sheet%20-%20Border%20Exceptions.pdf

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mcl headcanon masterpost pt.1 - armin

let's start this off with my long term favourites; the twins. this is armin's part, and alexy is next!

will start this with his full name being armin frederic lemaire

if you name a joint, he has probably dislocated it at least once in his life. he’s always been hypermobile, having chronic pain (mistaken as growing pains) and fatigue, being prone to dislocation. that later becomes a diagnosis of hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndrome.

that makes him also prone to getting migraines and headaches regularly, explaining the whole hating bright lights thing

he has had an eating disorder on and off since he was about 15; partly diagnosed, he meets the criteria for OSFED, so his ed is a bit. weird and all over the place. it’s mostly periods of restriction with a fear/disgust of food, followed by periods of binging and eating more or less normally. he’s closer to atypical bulimia, in terms of specifics, because the binge/purge episodes aren’t that frequent. he went inpatient once, and still jokes about how he was the only guy there. only his family knows about his eating issues as of now.

another thing about the ed is that it was already kind of in the making when alexy had his unaliving attempt, but that was really what kickstarted it all.

around UL, with nathaniel going absolutely off the fucking rails, armin and amber struck an odd friendship. they both could clock the other on their fucked up eating issues, but neither said anything for a long time, until amber did. they agreed to try and recover together.

his favourite pokemon type is ghost (thank you anon, idk anything about pokemon but i wanted to include this)

he plays animal crossing with kentin (who doesn’t like admitting that he plays it because it’s very relaxing for him) and jade.

he’s a gemini sun, cancer rising, libra moon, same as alexy.

he has add (adhd inattentive type) and his most common stims are bouncing his leg and chewing his pens. his object permanence is also absolute shit, if its out of sight, it doesn’t exist.

he doesn’t untie his shoes when taking them off or putting them on, and has ruined many perfectly good pairs of shoes that way.

he has made tik toks starring rocket the ferret

his playlists are lo-fi music, video games and movie soundtracks, and like. twenty one pilot.

his nose is crooked from when he broke it around 11 years old

he also bruises really easily (mostly due to his EDS) and his legs are always covered in various bruises. he’s also very clumsy, which doesn’t help

he doesn’t like alcohol; he doesn’t like the taste, the way it makes him feel and the aftermath; it doesn’t take much to affect him and he’ll sleep for an entire day. but he’ll sometimes drink in social situation just to not feel left out.

he’s bisexual. the less obvious stuff; what’s his type?? I know having a “type” isn't really a thing and u like who u like. with that said i think hed like slightly androgynous looking girls (soft spot for shaved heads. its soft;;), girls who are very very feminine but in an out of the ordinary way (think lolita, hyper pop fem vibe, goth girls in corsets, etc), guys who work out (he has a weakness for back muscles), in general people who stand out in a crowd be it with their appearance, style or their attitude

no i still have absolutely no idea how he would come out. i think he probably didn’t. he just started talking about it naturally, because it wasn’t a big deal. i think one day, either his mom or alexy made jokes about oh, when would he finally take this one cute girl on a date, and he just said, or maybe it’ll be a boy. it just happened like that

ref post for his fashion sense

he can do a killer winged liner. look, man’s into cosplay, of course he can.

he’s played mystic messenger ironically at first and then ended up actually liking it

he actually can draw, because he spent all middle school drawing anime characters in all his notebooks

he always sits kind of awkwardly (proof is the episode 12 illustration lmao) because 1. bi people can’t sit right (source: me) and 2. he’s just. really lanky and has long limbs and doesn’t really know what to do with all of it

this one is from an anon last year: “I have this weird hc about the twins. Alexy sleeps with like a million pillows and blankets , while Armin tries to sleep with pillows but throws it out every time even though he's asleep.” and i love it. he also probably sleep in very weird positions which leads to him waking up hurting a lot of the time

he also has a weighted blanket that he and alexy kind of just. get turns using when they both still live at their parents house. it helps armin’s pain, and alexy’s overstimulation issues. when they leave, armin gets the weighted blanket

armin has a dimple on his right cheek when he smiles

he helped alexy dye his hair until they moved out and started living separately

he has his driving license, but alexy doesn’t

he’s scared of dogs (he probably met demon at one point bc i like him and cas being friends, and he was so nervous about it, poor boy

he likes taking ice cold shower in the evening because the cold water and then sinking in a warm bed make him sleepy and actually helps him fall asleep

he probably played dnd at one point

he smokes ouid occasionally, at first it was recreational, but it kind of helped with his joint pain so

i think this is all of them? i might be missing a few ones i never wrote out or that are buried in my files but i honestly don't feel like going through the dozen unfinished fics and compilation documents that mention armin in my drive or i would still be here next year

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Boundary (Ethan x MC x Tobias?)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine) x (hints of) Tobias Carrick

Description: Tobias and Elle get to know each other while working on a case. Tobias pushes some boundaries.

Warnings: A few curse words, underlying health problems. Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: Something a bit different, but I very much enjoyed writing this. There’s no overt Tobias x MC, so this is hopefully something Ethan stans can enjoy reading too. If PB won’t give me what I want, I guess write it myself lol

*********

It’s early Fall, yet despite this fact and the hospital’s ‘Bloom-and-improved’ ventilation systems, the diagnostics office feels uncomfortably hot. Elle feels a prickling heat across her back, one that she has become accustomed to of late. The façade she’s wearing is beginning to feel like an actual mask, all clinical-scented and restrictive and artificial.

And yet, this is not a mask she’s wearing on a crowded, sweltering T carriage. Her discomfort is unwarranted; there are, after all, only three of them in the room.

Oblivious, Ethan and Harper continue their conversation. She’s tuned out long ago, but she catches the premise- something that Dr Yannick once said at a conference in New York several years ago.

If she really tried, Elle knows she could search for a moment to join in the discussion. But if she’s being honest with herself, she’s tired of searching for sidegates to enter their house of conversation, instead of ever being invited through the front door.

She tries her hardest to appear relaxed, unbothered, indifferent. But her uneasiness spills into her mannerisms, like water through a cracked pot. Manicured nails drum erratically on the top of her thigh. Her top teeth tug, over and over again, at her lips. The apex of her stiletto heel taps the diagnostic office floor like a furious knife.

She likes and respects Harper very much, and her feelings for Ethan, both as a diagnostician and as her romantic partner are unfathomable. But as juvenile as it sounds, she’s so tired of being shut out.

A whooshing of the sliding doors breaks her out of her reverie, and she and the two other occupants of the room look up. Tobias Carrick strides in, all beams and bravado.

Her own notion takes her by surprise, but somehow, she thinks, his arrival is the breath of fresh air she so desperately needs.

“Goooood morning team!” he chimes brightly. Once again, his arms are laden with a trayful of drinks.

“Morning,” Elle offers him a warm smile, Harper echoing her words.

Ethan nods towards the drinks.

“Another round on you?”

“Sure is, but this isn’t just any old round, Ethan,” Tobias replies. “Now I’ve spent a week on the team, I take great pride in this being the first drinks order that’s just right, for all of you.”

Ethan quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

Tobias grins, and plucks the first drink off the tray.

“Harper,” he presents her with an extravagant looking drink. “Chocolate frappucino. Double the sugar, double the caffeine. The Friday OR schedule is always jam packed, so I reckon you’ll need it.”

“You got that right, I’ve got two laminectomies today,” she sighs, although the passion for her job shines through her eyes. She takes a sip from her drink. “No complaints from me!”

“Excellent,” Tobias grins. “Ethan- a Vienna for you. Classic, refined, and,” he winks, “only a little pretentious.”

Ethan accepts the drink with a roll of his eyes, as Tobias moves around the desk to Elle.

“And now, for you Elle,” he hands her the third cup. “I must admit, for you I went out on a whim. I just hope my guess is a lucky one.”

Curiosity piqued, Elle presses the rim to her lips. She is aware of the eyes of both Tobias and Ethan following her action with interest. Mild, pleasant citrus swims onto her palate.

“Lemon balm?” she asks Tobias. He nods. “You going to elaborate?”

He shrugs.

“Well, I’ve noticed that I’ve never seen you with a coffee before 4pm, so I figured you like to limit caffeine earlier in the day. And I’ve seen you make up a couple of herbal teas before. I took a gamble and figured you’d like this one.”

“Impressive guess, Carrick,” Elle nods, amused. She takes a sip. “It’s good, thank you.”

“Those are some very…astute observations” says Ethan stiffly, as Tobias takes a seat beside Elle. “Maybe you can put your perceptiveness to better use for our next case.”

He slides three manila envelopes across the table, and the team begin to peruse.

“Jake Adams. 17-year-old male admitted last night, with multiple cardiac arrests,” Ethan begins. “He collapsed at school, was unresponsive, no signs of life, but luckily a fellow student was able to perform high-quality CPR until the paramedics arrived. Heart rhythm on their defibrillator was ventricular fibrillation, he was shocked, back to normal sinus rhythm. Between the scene, being loaded onto the stretcher, in the ambulance and arriving here, he arrested and was shocked again 5 more times.”

“Jesus, poor boy,” murmurs Elle, a crease forming between her brows.

“Cardiology have asked us if we can determine the cause of the arrest, which will of course determine the treatment,” Ethan explains.

“This case only came in last night and since he’s now on life support, we’re able to bypass Bloom’s absurd judicial performance and get straight into it,” Harper adds. “Actually, Ethan and I discussed it at length before you both arrived, and we have some solid ideas.”

Elle looks up from the file, quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“So I’m thinking Long QT syndrome, or maybe Brugada,” says Harper.

“They would definitely explain the spontaneous cardiac arrest,” Ethan adds, “Harper and I have ordered genetic testing for both on immediate family members already.”

“Any family history of sudden cardiac death?” Tobias asks.

“Not that we know of,” says Ethan. “But that wouldn’t rule it out.”

Elle frowns slightly as she browses the file. The tests ordered so far are scant, and in her mind, there are several pieces of the diagnostic puzzle missing. But this didn’t seem to stop Harper and Ethan steamrollering ahead, and seemingly settling on a diagnosis before the case had even been presented.

“Does Jake have a-”

“Do you remember that patient with Brugada syndrome who came in for a study a few years ago, Ethan?” Harper turns to Ethan suddenly.

“Ah yes, Paul?” Ethan chuckles, “he was quite a character.”

As Harper and Ethan drift off once again, Elle glances up to see Tobias looking at her quizzically. She lets out a heavy sigh.

Tobias clears his throat.

“Hate to interrupt your…uh…stroll down memory lane,” he begins. “But Elle was about to ask a question about the case, and you both spoke over her.”

The three other diagnosticians turn to Tobias, and a tense silence hangs in the air. After a beat, Harper speaks up.

“I’m sorry Elle,” she says, sincerely. “That was out of line, please continue.”

Tobias turns to Ethan expectantly, who meets Elle’s eye.

Something flickers across his face for a moment, a mixture of shame, guilt, embarrassment, perhaps? It’s a look that Elle can’t quite place. Then, his eyes skim to Tobias and he coughs awkwardly.

“Yes…thank you Tobias. We did speak over you, Elle, I apologise. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if he had a 15-Lead ECG.”

“Not yet,” Harper replies.

“Then until he has one, I don’t think you can consider Brugada syndrome,” says Elle. “We’d need to do an ajmaline challenge too. I can see from the echocardiogram reports in here that he has a structurally normal heart, so we can definitely exclude congenital heart disease as the cause. But for me personally,” she gestures to the file, “there’s a lot missing in here. About what actually happened.”

“How do you mean?” Ethan asks.

“About the context of the cardiac arrest. All we know is that he was at school, but what was he doing? Was he doing anything strenuous, did it happen at rest? There’s a lot more I’d like to know.”

The rest of the team nod thoughtfully.

“I agree…if it happened during exertion, there’s a few other things we could rule out,” says Tobias.

“Exactly,” says Elle. “I think we should consider catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia.”

“You’re thinking CPVT?” asks Ethan, interested. “It’s a possibility.”

“Yes, and it’s one I’d like to investigate more by visiting the school, and finding out more about what happened” says Elle.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Harper responds, twirling her fountain pen between her fingers. “But unfortunately, I won’t be able to join you on your expedition. Like Tobias said, I’ve got a full day in the OR.”

The rest of the team turn to Ethan, who hesitates.

“I…have a meeting with Naveen and the board until lunch,” he says. “Which-”

“-means it’s just you and me, Valentine!” exclaims Tobias, clapping his hands together. “Oh boy, I’ve been looking forward to my first house call with the diagnostics team. We’re going to be on some scooby doo shit, Elle!”

“I beg your pardon?” says Ethan, scowling. Elle can’t help but burst out laughing.

“That settles it then, me and Elle will go to the school,” says Tobias, standing up from his chair. At the same time, Harper gets a page that her surgery is starting and bids them a hurried farewell.

“I was going to say, which means the three of us can go this afternoon once I’m finished,” Ethan says stiffly, as Harper heads out. Tobias shoots him a bemused look.

“I’d rather not wait,” says Elle flatly.

Ethan has wasted enough time in their meetings by bringing up pointless anecdotes with Harper, and she’s very keen to revert her focus to the patients, to diagnostics- the things she loves.

“Me and Valentine will be just fine, E. After all, I’m sure what happened with Jake is still pretty raw to the kids and staff, we’ll need to handle it delicately. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, right?” Tobias flashes Elle a smile.

The same look as before flashes across Ethan’s face, although this time, Elle thinks, it has less of the awkwardness and embarrassment and more of the…something else. His bright blue eyes seem to narrow a fraction, as he looks between Tobias and the woman of his affections.

“Alright,” he sighs finally. “We’ll reconvene when you’re back.”

“Let’s get this show on the road!” says Tobias happily. “To the mystery machine!”

He crosses the room to retrieve his car keys from his bag, while Ethan turns to Elle, and this time, the look of concern is undeniable.

“If you need anything,” he closes some of the distance between them and lowers his voice just a little, “just call me.”

“I think we can handle it,” says Elle, not unkindly. “Enjoy your meeting. And tell Naveen I said hello.”

And with that, she and Tobias leave the office.

********

A short while later, Elle and Tobias are riding in his blue Mercedes S-Class on the way to Jake’s school, a short drive away in South Quincy.

“Not exactly the mystery machine, huh?” says Elle, glancing around at the plush interior.

Tobias shrugs.

“The same colour, at least.”

Boston blurs by as Tobias pulls into a main road, and Elle turns to look at him. His side profile is unmistakably handsome. He drives one handed, the other resting on his thigh.

“So, how’s June?”

He gives a wry half smile, and glances at her.

“Is that your way of asking if we’re still sleeping together?”

“No!” says Elle, honestly. “I’m just wondering how she’s fitting in at Mass Ken. I mean, she left Edenbrook when she thought the ship was going to sink. I got the impression she was pretty keen to be working on your team, now I can’t help but think now you’ve come here, Aurora too…don’t you think she’s been left kinda high and dry?”

“In all honesty, I haven’t seen her for a while, and don’t expect to again anytime soon,” Tobias admits. “But trust me, Hirata will be just fine. She’s head of the team there now.”

Elle raises her eyebrows, impressed.

“I’d say she moves fast, but actually, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“She was pissed as hell when I said I was leaving, don’t get me wrong,” says Tobias. “But she’s the strongest diagnostician on that team, and the strongest player too.”

“Player?”

“She knows how to play the game. She’ll have no trouble asserting herself as the new leader, running the show the way she wants to.”

Elle thinks back to her time working with June. The way she changed her personality to gain patients’ trust…and Elle’s. Distant anger simmers at the back of her mind, as she remembers how June stole her employee file.

“I agree…office politics was always child’s play for June.”

“Speaking of,” says Tobias as they stop at a red light. He turns to look at her. “The meeting this morning seemed very…uh…political.”

Elle pauses as feels the uncomfortable tingling rise in her chest. She could ask “what are you talking about?”, but she knows exactly what he’s talking about. And there’s something about Carrick that makes her want to cut the crap, to be upfront. So she is.

“You mean Harper and Ethan…”

“Yeah, that. Whatever the hell that was.”

Elle is silent.

“Does that…happen a lot?”

“More often than I’d like.”

“Well, good job I’m here then,” he grins.

Elle’s head whips around.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t appreciate the out.”

She rounds on him.

“Ok, let’s make one thing clear, I don’t need you to fight my battles” says Elle angrily. “Since Harper joined, every time the two of them have gone off track, I’ve steered them back on. I’m here for the patient, to solve the case, and nothing is going to detract my focus from that. That’s the way it’s going to stay, with or without your “outs”, Tobias.”

Tobias chuckles.

“You’re feisty Elle, I like it.” His eyes sweep over her from head to toe, which makes Elle feel more angry, but also, inexplicably, makes her stomach flutter a little.

“What I mean is,” Tobias speaks more seriously; sensing her anger, but mercifully oblivious to the other sensation, “I hope you know you’ve got someone else in your corner Elle. I know how much you care about your patients, and I know Bloom’s going to make life for the team difficult, and try and undermine our every move. That’s not helped when it feels like you’re not listened to by the actual people in it. You’re an excellent doctor Elle, and I value your input. The others should too.”

Elle is dumbstruck. She still doesn’t know what to make of Tobias Carrick; she had picked up pieces and hints from the scattered stories she’d heard from Ethan, most recently in their walk through the rose garden. But while considering the perspective and feelings of the man she so deeply cares for, she acknowledges it is biased. Elle knows that she has good reason to be wary of Tobias; it was not just Ethan he had toyed with, after all- Aurora had been burned by him too.

But, Tobias had helped to save her life. And the genuine smile that he gave her through the contamination screens of that cursed room, on the worst day of her life, had always stayed with her.

So, with a pinch of salt ready between her fingers, Elle decided from the moment he joined the team, that she would form her own opinion of him.

It occurs to her then, just how much Ethan sees the world in black and white. But Tobias Carrick is very much a shade of grey.

Before she can respond to him, the GPS on Tobias’ dash declares that they are arriving at their destination, and sure enough, Elle sees the school up ahead on the right.

“Here we are,” murmurs Tobias as he pulls in through the school gates. “Looks like we’re expected.”

They park up and head over to the school steps, surrounded by blossom trees, where a middle aged woman offers them a watery smile and extends a hand.

“Ah, hello…the doctors from Edenbrook, I presume?” she asks. “I’m Helena Brady, the principal of Greenview High.”

“Yes, we spoke earlier on the phone,” says Elle. “I’m Dr Eleanor Valentine, and this is Dr Tobias Carrick. We’re here to speak to the people that were with Jake when he collapsed?”

“I’m afraid it’s just the one person,” says Helena gravely, leading them through the school. “His friend Charlie was the only one who saw it, and then ran for help. How is Jake doing?”

“He’s still in a coma, but stable,” says Tobias. “The most important thing for us to help him, is find out from Charlie some more about the collapse, and go from there.”

Helena nods, as they come to a stop outside a small office.

“We’ve all been praying for him, it’s so tragically sad…nothing like this has ever happened to a student before,” she sniffs stoically. “Thank you for your work doctors, but please, be gentle with the boy. He’s still very shaken.”

Elle smiles at her reassuringly.

“We will be, don’t worry.”

As Tobias and Elle knock and enter the room, the boy springs to his feet, eyes wild.

“You’re the doctors…how’s Jake, is he-oh god is he-is he dead?” he cries.

“No, Jake is ok. He’s been through a lot, but he’s recovering,” says Elle gently. Charlie sinks back into his chair, though his knees are still quaking.

“It’s Charlie right?” Tobias asks, pulling up a chair. “I’m Tobias and this is Elle. We’re Jake’s doctors. Do you know why we’re here today?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Charlie sniffs. “Principal Brady said you were here to talk to me about Jake…I was so scared, I thought, I thought that meant he had died.”

Elle kneels in front of him, laying a gentle hand on his knee.

“I’m really sorry that us coming made you think that, Charlie,” she says. “It must have been really tough watching Jake collapse like that, I’m not surprised you’re thinking the worst. But we think we can help Jake get better, we just need your help.”

Some of the tension seems to leave Charlie’s body upon hearing this; his shudders subside. He pulls anxiously at the strings of his hoodie, unruly teenage bangs falling over his forehead.

“So, Charlie,” Tobias asks as Elle pulls up a chair beside him, “do you think you could tell us a bit more about what Jake was doing when you saw him collapse? Had he been running, exercising, working out?”

“No,” Charlie says quietly. “He wasn’t doing anything like that.”

“That’s really helpful Charlie, thank you,” says Elle. “Can you tell us if he standing up or sitting down? Did he lose his balance or seem dizzy? Did he complain of feeling ill, or funny in any sort of way before it happened?”

Charlie stiffens.

“No. He was-we were-we were arguing.”

Tobias and Elle exchange a quick look.

“Is Jake your friend, Charlie?” Tobias asks.

“No! No he’s not, and I’m so sick of pretending he is!” Charlie shouts. “Jake’s my boyfriend!” Tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“Oh Charlie, I’m so sorry,” says Elle. “You said you were pretending…does anyone else know that?”

Charlie shakes his head.

“No. That’s what we were arguing about,” he accepts a tissue that Elle offers, blowing his nose.

“Take your time, Charlie,” says Tobias, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. “It’s ok.”

After a few deep breaths, Charlie steels himself.

“We’ve been dating for three years, kind of in secret, kind of not,” he explains. “My parents know I’m gay, and they’re fine with it. They’ve met Jake before and they love him, they know we’re together. But he’s not even out to his parents, they just think we’re friends.”

He sniffs.

“Now we’re in senior year, we’re both looking at colleges, and we want to go to different ones. We’d be living five hours apart. I don’t know if we can make the long-distance work, especially if his parents don’t know about us. In the times we’d both be back home, they wouldn’t understand why he’d want to spend a lot of that time with me. But the one thing I just really, really wanted, was for us to go to senior prom together. As a couple, you know? To just dress up together, get photos together, dance together, one last time before we leave.”

“And Jake…wasn’t on board with that?” asks Elle.

“He was,” says Charlie. “He said he really wanted to. He just…wasn’t on board with the part of that which meant he’d have to come out to his parents.”

“I see,” says Tobias.

Charlie’s eyes begin to fill with tears again.

“I was saying, before he collapsed, that he didn’t love me,” he cries. “That he must not love me if he’s not prepared to come out. He was getting so upset, begging me, telling me of course he loved me, he was just scared, and then-” he sobs. “Then he was on the floor.”

Elle kneels beside him again, taking both his hands in her own.

“I’ve been googling stuff that could have caused it,” Charlie sniffles. “I saw there’s this condition, some long one beginning with, a C, I think, that means people’s hearts can give out when they’re stressed.”

Tobias raises an eyebrow, somewhat impressed at the boy’s diagnostic skills.

“What if-what if I could’ve killed him, because of the argument? And I told him he must not love me, I didn’t even mean it, I know how hard it is to come out, I didn’t mean to-” he buries his head in his hands.

“Charlie- Charlie listen to me,” says Elle. “It’s true, that we think Jake might have a condition called CPVT. It means that certain situations, like exercise, or stress, can cause the heart to go into an abnormal rhythm. But that does not mean, whatsoever, that any of this is your fault. We all say things we don’t mean in the heat of the moment, when we’re angry. If Jake does have this condition, and we’ll have to run a couple more tests to know that for sure, then it means that we can treat it, and stop it from happening again. It could have happened to him at anytime, anywhere, but he was lucky enough to be with you. You’ve helped him have a lucky escape.”

“R-really?” asks Charlie.

“Really,” says Tobias, who is on his feet. He lays a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Your principal was telling us earlier that you did CPR on Jake while you got others to run for help?”

“Yes,” Charlie mutters, looking up at Tobias.

“Well Charlie, I think you saved his life.”

Charlie’s eyes gleam with hope.

“What are you applying for at college?” Tobias asks.

“Um..cardiac nursing,” he says.

“Very fitting. You’ll always be welcome at Edenbrook for some work experience.” Tobias smiles, genuinely. It’s the same smile Elle remembers from after the attack.

“Do you think, then, that he’ll be ok?” Charlie asks tentatively.

“Yes, I do,” smiles Elle. “And I think that you and Jake will be ok too.”

****************

Some time later, Elle steps out of the school. After speaking at length with the school counsellor, she had made sure that Charlie had some extensive therapy sessions in place. Tobias is waiting for her at the foot of the steps, beneath the blossom trees, and she is surprised to see he has a cigarette in hand.

“You smoke?” she raises an eyebrow at him as she approaches. “I thought you’d know better, Tobias.”

He takes a drag.

“Vices, Valentine,” he quips. “We all have them.”

Elle vaguely remembers Ethan had once said the same thing about butter.

“Carcinogens, though. Really?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I’m dirty, what can I say?”

He dutifully puts out the cigarette, as Elle gives him a reproachful look, and turns to her.

“You were good in there, with him,” says Tobias.

“Thanks…so were you.”

“We make a good team,” he smiles, and his expression softens a little. “That was kinda heavy though. You bearing up ok?” he asks.

Elle nods.

“I’m fine. I just hope Charlie will be ok, I really want to make sure he starts therapy as soon as possible. I know how much of a difference it made for me, after the attack.”

She trails off, and Tobias seems to sense the darkness clouding over her eyes. The mild September breeze sifts through the blossom trees above them with a gentle sigh.

“I don’t think I ever actually said this to you,” says Elle quietly, “but thank you. For helping to save me and Raf, that day.”

“No thanks needed,” he responds. “I wanted to do everything I could to help.”

He pauses only briefly before continuing.

“You know, out of everything that happened that day, all the work we did in the lab trying to find an antidote…the one thing I remember most is how Ethan was in that room. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like that before. About anyone, or anything.”

A sudden chill trickles down her neck, goosebumps erupt on her forearms; a million tiny foothills.

Since their conversation in the car after Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Ethan had never really spoken in depth about his own feelings during the attack. Sometimes, in early hours when they laid in bed together, with the rain hammering against his window, she would mention it.

And every time, she would see his eyes darken with so many unsaid words. He would fix his gaze desperately on her like she was evaporating steam, set to vanish from existence in a matter of moments. His hold on her waist would tighten, fingertips tracing her soft skin as if to remind himself she wasn’t a ghost.

There had been whispers in his bed in the stillness of the night, when they were both half asleep. He had uttered sleepy confessions and declarations to her; some so heartfelt and moving, she still questioned whether they were real or if she had dreamt them.

More often straight after the attack, but still now sometimes, she would wake in his arms to find him already looking at her, his eyes filled with wonder, pain, and something else that she was starting to place.

‘Why are you awake?’ she would gently murmur.

‘I couldn’t sleep. I-had a nightmare.’

She would press herself closer to his chest, feel his strong arms encircling her as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘I’m here, Ethan.’

‘I know. I’m…so glad you are.’

She is jolted to the present with Tobias’ voice.

“Even if he didn’t show it this morning…Ethan’s got it bad for you, you know.”

Elle cranes her neck to look up at him- at the man who shares so much history with Ethan. He’s almost as tall as her lover, but slightly less built, shoulders not quite as broad. Alike in many ways, but different in so many others.

“Why are you here, Tobias?” she asks, without breaking eye contact. “You had it all at Mass Kenmore. You’re an excellent diagnostician, you could have gone anywhere. Why, of all people, would you want to come and work for Ethan, someone you have such a complicated past with?”

Tobias’ hazel eyes, a contrast to Ethan’s azure blue’s, look into hers deeply. She knows that there’s something hiding beneath their golden depths; either earnestness, an ulterior motive, or perhaps something more complicated- a mixture of both.

He takes a step towards her, raising his hand towards her face. Her breath hitches, then climaxes in a soft exhale, when he simply removes a lone blossom petal that has settled on the lapel of her white coat. She wonders what exactly she had been expecting him to do.

Tobias twists his tongue between his teeth, a half-smile playing on his lips. Once again, his eyes roam over her from head to toe. This close, Elle can smell his cologne. It’s good; notes of leather and pine and exotism drift to her olfactory nerve. It’s a contrast to her favourite aftershave of Ethan’s, which smelled like bergamot, cedar, and home.

Tobias drops the petal to the floor, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I’m here Elle,” he murmurs, “because I want to push boundaries.”

********************

Ethan leans against his desk, fingertips drumming impatiently. His meeting had been finished for a while now, but he was still waiting for Elle and Tobias to return.

His old rival’s keenness to go on an outreach call with Elle had stirred something within him. Something in his head had switched on. A distant alarm bell that had been silent for some time, had started to ring.

Lost in thought, he mulls over the events of the morning.

He’d done it again.

He, and Harper, had spoken over Elle when she was trying to talk about the patient. Not only that, he recognises now, but before Tobias had entered the room, the two of them had been reminiscing about something that didn’t involve Elle in the slightest.

He doesn’t know why he keeps slipping up. He harbours no romantic feelings for Harper whatsoever, but he’s been enjoying the chance to work more closely with her, the friendly conversations, to share stories and experiences.

But they haven’t just been work related, he thinks. Did I really need to bring up the flamenco lessons? Or Gaston’s? He recalls the look on her face when he’d told Elle he planned to take her there because of its intimacy, immediately after discussing it with Harper. Before Elle’s forced smile and her gracious reply of “I’d like that,” he’d always thought he had caught a flicker of dismay, of hurt, on her features.

Now he’s certain it was more than a flicker.

I don’t deserve her, he thought.

With a swoosh, the doors of the diagnostics office open. He sees the familiar head of immaculately coiffed blonde locks, and as his eyes travel down to Elle’s beautiful face, his heart soars, and he can’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Elle!” he says happily, pushing himself up of the desk.

I missed you, he foolishly finds himself wanting to say, despite the fact that like most days at work, it’s only been a few hours since he’s seen her. But as his eyes travel to Tobias following her in, he keeps the admission to himself.

“We have an answer,” says Elle triumphantly. “We’ve listed Jake for an ICD insertion tomorrow morning.”

“It was CPVT?” Ethan asks.

“Yep,” says Tobias. “Elle’s hunch was right. Turns out it was an argument with his boyfriend that brought on the cardiac arrest. We ran a test for CPVT as soon as we got back, while you were still in the meeting, and it’s positive.”

Elle smiles brightly.

“Jake’s going to be okay.”

Ethan beams. He’s exceptionally proud of her.

“Excellent work Elle,” he leans forward to squeeze her arm, as bold a gesture as he dares while they have company. “And thanks Tobias, for helping out.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” says Tobias. He looks pointedly at Elle, then adds, “believe me.”

An unpleasant sensation coils in the pit of Ethan’s stomach. He tries to push it down.

As Tobias crosses the room to take a phone call, he steps closer to Elle, lowering his voice.

“Listen Elle, about earlier. I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, tentatively taking her hand in his own. He caresses her tiny fingers with his thumb. “It’s unacceptable for me to talk over you in meetings, and I…know that this isn’t the first time it’s happened, and that there are, uh, other things. I’m sorry if my actions have ever made you feel excluded.”

Elle’s bright green eyes look into his thoughtfully, though she says nothing; silently willing him to continue.

“I’d like to make it up to you. I think a date night between us is long overdue. Can I take you for dinner tonight?” he asks. A flash of hope, along with the tinge of dismay he remembers from before, travels across her face. “Not Gaston’s,” he adds quickly. “I want to find somewhere new with you. For us.”

Her face floods with warmth, eyes gazing into his searchingly. He desperately scans her beautiful face, seeking some inkling of her true feelings; the ones he knows she’s bottling up.

“You’re right, it is long overdue,” she says finally, her gaze steady. “And I’d really like that, to find somewhere new to go to dinner with you. But I can’t do tonight.”

His heart sinks a little, and as if sensing this, like she always seems to, she squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“I’m out for drinks with Si, Aurora and Jackie tonight. But we’ll go soon.”

She offers him a soft smile, which he returns.

It doesn’t quite quell the slight but unmistakable feeling of anxiety in his stomach. It’s guilt, it’s the gnawing thought that he will never be good enough for her, the idea that he’s taken her for granted.

Worst of all, there is the completely irrational, but terrible notion that he could lose her.

And somehow, the thought that he could lose her in living rather than in death, as he had once feared, is almost more terrible.

She gently lets go of his hand. On the other side of the room, Tobias hangs up the phone.

“I’m going to go and speak to Jake’s parents,” says Elle, slipping off and readjusting her white coat.

Ethan’s eyes travel over her form-fitting pencil skirt, clinging to her delicate body in all the right places.

He doesn’t miss the way Tobias’ do the same. Then, as if knowing he’s being watched, he looks up at Ethan. His eyes narrow, and the corners of his lips twitch.

Ethan wants nothing more than to sock him in the jaw.

“We’ll check in later, once Harper’s finished surgery?” she asks, breaking the two men out of their reverie.

Ethan nods, and Elle bids them goodbye. The click of her heels on the linoleum echoes into the tense silence. Then, he can’t hold it in any longer.

“Could you be,” Ethan begins through gritted teeth, “a little more fucking subtle, Carrick?”

Tobias chuckles.

“I can’t help it, Ethan, and clearly neither can you. A woman like that, body like that…we’re just as powerless as any other red-blooded male.”

Ethan curls his fists in the pockets of his coat.

“Don’t talk about Elle like that. I won’t have you disrespecting her in that way,” he spits, taking a step towards him.

“You want to talk about disrespecting her?” counters Tobias, unflinching. “Because I think taking a stroll down memory lane with your ex, every five minutes, is pretty disrespectful to the woman you’re currently fucking.”

Ethan is stunned. Had she told Tobias that it had happened before? Did she tell him they were seeing eachother, or had Tobias clocked it himself? What exactly had they talked about while they were away?

“Elle is- she’s off limits,” he snaps, the only response his seething mind is able to come up with.

Tobias smiles, satisfied at seeing the other man riled up. Then, infuriatingly, he turns away.

“Who decided that, Ethan?” he says quietly over his shoulder “Her or you?”

And with that, Tobias turns and leaves.

*******

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading this far! I wanted to explore the dynamic between Elle and Tobias, and the way I wrote him in this fic reflects my own thoughts about him; I think he’s a good guy, as demonstrated by him helping to save her life and his thoughtfulness, but I’m definitely suspicious of his ulterior motives and his past actions. I also wanted the sexual tension between Ethan, Elle and Tobias, and was hoping that PB would make Tobias call out Ethan shutting her out of meetings. They didn’t deliver so I did it myself lol Also wanted Ethan to start feeling insecure about the way he’s been treating Elle since his behaviour has been trash thanks to the OOC writing, but I still love him

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Is Caranthir Autistic Or Am I Just Projecting: An Autobiography

Yup, here it is. My long-promised autistic Caranthir meta. Although I’m not sure how much of a meta it can be considering Caranthir is only mentioned by name 24 times in the entire Silmarillion, outside of the name index at the end. So here’s the plan: we’re gonna go through every time he’s mentioned and see if it tells us anything about potentially being autistic.

Before we begin. here is the DSM list of requirements for being diagnosed as autistic. Considering how few times we see Caranthir doing stuff in day to day life, odds are we won’t get to the level required for full diagnosis, but it certainly can help support it as a theory.

Requirements:

Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity

Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction,

Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships

At least two of the following: Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech, Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior, Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus, Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment

Symptoms must be present in the early developmental period (but may not become fully manifest until social demands exceed limited capacities, or may be masked by learned strategies in later life)

Symptoms cause clinically significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of current functioning.

These disturbances are not better explained by intellectual disability or global developmental delay. Intellectual disability and autism spectrum disorder frequently co-occur; to make comorbid diagnoses of autism spectrum disorder and intellectual disability, social communication should be below that expected for general developmental level.

With that being said, let’s start at the beginning:

“The seven sons of Fëanor were Maedhros the tall; Maglor the mighty singer, whose voice was heard far over land and sea; Celegorm the fair, and Caranthir the dark; Curufin the crafty, who inherited most of his father’s skill of hand; and the youngest Amrod and Amras, who were twin brothers, alike in mood and face. In later days they were great hunters in the woods of Middle-earth; and a hunter also was Celegorm [...]”

“[Regarding the Oath] Thus spoke Maedhros and Maglor and Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir, Amros and Amras, princes of the Noldor [...]”

Okay these two tell us absolutely nothing about Caranthir in particular, at least for this particular topic. Moving swiftly along.

“But Caranthir, who loved not the sons of Finarfin, and was the harshest of the brothers and the most quick to anger, cried aloud:‘Yea more! Let not the sons of Finarfin run hither and thither with their tales to this dark Elf in his caves! Who made them our spokesmen to deal with him? And though they be come indeed to Beleriand, let them not so swiftly forget that their father is a lord of the Noldor, though their mother be of other kin”

Now we’re finally getting to the good part. Let’s start at the beginning. “Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity”. Yep. To put that in layman’s terms, it means to have trouble understanding how to navigate conversations in a normal way, often talking out of turn or speaking too harshly. This falls into both of those. On top of that, it also shows signs of “Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understanding relationships”. He is clearly misreading the situation and attacking Angrod for no real reason outside of being mad about everything. This is not how you speak to a stranger, especially not a diplomat.

One could even argue that it could show signs of“Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior”” and“Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction”. The former could be argued because one could say that he has fallen into a comfortable pattern, and the idea of changing it is deeply distressing to him, hence why he lashed out. The idea of changes happening that he didn’t directly have a say in causes him to panic and react with anger. As far as the latter one goes, given Maedhros’s initial response to Angrod as well as him trying to calm Caranthir down afterwards, one can reasonably assume that his body language was telling his brothers to stay calm and cordial. Caranthir either ignored this deliberately (which would strengthen the prior argument that he struggles maintaining and understanding relationships, given the authority Maedhros has over him) or he simply could not pick up on the nonverbal cues that Maedhros was giving.

“Now the people of Caranthir dwelt furthest east beyond the upper waters of Gelion, about Lake Helevorn under Mount Rerir and to the southward; and they climbed the heights of Ered Luin and looked eastward in wonder, for wild and wide it seemed to them were the lands of Middle-earth. And thus it was that Caranthir's people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand. But though either people loved skill and were eager to learn, no great love was there between them; for the Dwarves were secret and quick to resentment, and Caranthir was haughty and scarce concealed his scorn for the unloveliness of the Naugrim, and his people followed their lord. Nevertheless since both peoples feared and hated Morgoth they made alliance, and had of it great profit; for the Naugrim learned many secrets of craft in those days, so that the smiths and masons of Nogrod and Belegost became renowned among their kin, and when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand all the traffic of the dwarf-mines passed first through the hands of Caranthir, and thus great riches came to him.”

So this is the part that led to all of the Caranthir loving money jokes, which ultimately led to there being a Caranthir/money tag on AO3. (No, really.) That said, there’s a lot to unpack here. First of all, it’s pretty reasonable to think that Caranthir’s love for planning and economics go beyond average, so let’s assume for a moment that economics are his special interest. This would fill the third elective requirement: “Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus”. Or, in other words, having a special interest. But beyond that, him not even trying to hide his distaste for the Dwarves clearly shows a lack of basic diplomacy, which we’ve been over before. He has severely lacking social skills. Plus, choosing to be hostile towards a group that have the exact same interests as him proves that he struggles with change, or at the very least forming interpersonal bonds, even if he did form an alliance with them in the end (which only goes to show how strong his special interest is).

“Therefore the Noldor held strength of cavalry In the plains at that place; and the people of Caranthir fortified the mountains to the east of Maglor's Gap. There Mount Rerir, and about it many lesser heights, stood out from the main range of Ered Lindon westward; and in the angle between Rerir and Ered Lindon there was a lake, shadowed by mountains on all sides save the south. That was Lake Helevorn, deep and dark, and beside it Caranthir had his abode; but all the great land between Gelion and the mountains, and between Rerir and the River Ascar, was called by the Noldor Thargelion, which signifies the Land beyond Gelion, or Dor Caranthir, the Land of Caranthir; and it was here that the Noldor first met the Dwarves. But Thargelion was before called by the Grey-elves Talath Rhúnen, the East Vale.”

Okay this one might be a bit of a stretch, but one could argue that Caranthir choosing to live beneath the mountains and in a notably dark region could indicate a sensitivity to bright lights, which would qualify as a sensory sensitivity. Even if not, though, we already have the required two of the four electives.

“At that time [Celegorm and Curufin] were from home, riding with Caranthir east in Thargelion [...]”

And this tells us absolutely nothing.

“But seven days later, as the Orcs made their last assault and had already broken through the stockade, there came suddenly a music of trumpets, and Caranthir with his host came down from the north and drove the Orcs into the rivers.

Then Caranthir looked kindly upon Men and did Haleth great honour; and he offered her recompense for her father and brother. And seeing, over late, what valour there was in the Edain, he said to her: 'If you will remove and dwell further north, there you shall have the friendship and protection of the Eldar, and free lands of your own.'

But Haleth was proud, and unwilling to be guided or ruled, and most of the Haladin were of like mood. Therefore she thanked Caranthir, but answered: 'My mind is now set, lord, to leave the shadow of the mountains, and go west, whither others of our kin have gone.'”

One could probably argue that Haleth was Caranthir’s only friend outside of his immediate family, which certainly indicates a struggle in forming bonds. That being said, he did pretty good here. I’m proud of him :))

“Maglor joined Maedhros upon Himring; but Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves; and the Orcs came not into Ossiriand, nor to Taur-im-Duinath and the wilds of the south.”

While this is a very interesting passage for Caranthir’s characterization, it has nothing to do with him potentially being autistic, so we can move on.

“The sons of Ulfang the Black were Ulfast, and Ulwarth, and Uldor the accursed; and they followed Caranthir and swore allegiance to him, and proved faithless”

Poor Caranthir can’t catch a break, can he? But yeah of course he chooses the people who end up being the least loyal. Certainly indicates a lack of character judgement, which falls under not understanding nonverbal communication.

“There fell Celegorm by Dior's hand, and there fell Curufin, and dark Caranthir”

RIP. But it doesn’t really tell us anything.

Obviously, we can’t know what he was like during childhood development, nor can we know what underlying conditions he may have. However, given how many alliances he fucked over or nearly fucked over with his bad social skills, it’s fair to say that his autistic traits would have clinical significance. So, in conclusion, while nothing can be said for certain, it is reasonable to think that Caranthir is autistic.

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138. Rock and Roru

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

TW for eating disorder talk. *flings fluff at you* ENJOY THE CAVITIES BECAUSE THESE TWO ARE JUST TOO DAMN CUTE. A little detour to expand on Roru and her team, based on what Sekkachi mentioned to Rei in the previous chapter. I promise all of this is going to come back around and tie into Rei and Kakashi's story, so just bear with me for a second haha

Roru Fumeiyo swung her legs back and forth idly as she gripped the edge of the bench in the hospital courtyard. The sun was far too bright and the birds were too loud. She heard the footsteps of a young couple down the hallway, laughing in disbelief as they swooned over their baby’s first ultrasound. Sick. How could anyone be happy on a day like this?

Roru tilted her head back against the back of the bench and huffed. She couldn’t comprehend how something could turn so sour so quickly. She almost scorned herself for having woken up that morning feeling optimistic. She should have known better. Now everything was ruined, and it was all Suisen Unohana’s fault.

Team Tekuno had been working hard to prepare for the chunin exams. With two weeks left before the written exam, they were really getting down to the wire.

“How about I take you girls out for some ramen after this?” Tekuno had asked during a brief respite. His students sprawled out across the grass, guzzling water and fanning their faces. It may have been hot, but they knew this would be nothing compared to the unforgiving summers in Sunagakure.

To say that Tekuno had been proud of his students was understatement. He had never expected these girls, so whiny and weak in the beginning, to become so strong and capable. They each had their own merits that, when combined, forged an indomitable alliance. Roru was agile and determined, Hoseki captivating and clever, and Suisen was smart and skilled. Tekuno couldn’t help but laugh, likening them to the famed Dorimuchimu led by Chikara-sensei. Tekuno had never paid much mind to the original all-girl squad in his youth, rolling his eyes at their sense of feminism, but now that he was in a similar position, he had garnered a newfound admiration for the old team. Especially with Roru under his wing, the younger cousin of Dorimuchimu’s Sekkachi Fumeiyo.

Leaping to her feet, Hoseki brushed the little blades of grass from her puffy pigtails and shot her sensei a sharp smile. “Just one more sparring match first” she insisted. “I want to feel like I’ve really earned it.”

A gleaming smile touched Roru’s lips as she nodded in agreement. Suisen rose slowly, cautiously. She was outnumbered and therefore had no room to protest. Chuckling, Tekuno took great pride in his student’s determination and agreed to let them have one more match. The girls crouched into their battle positions, awaited Tekuno’s signal, and then they were off.

A sharp smiel touched Roru’s face as she lunged for Suisen, not unkindly. Suisen’s violet eyes bugged in and out and she began to rock back and forth on her heels until suddenly, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumpled onto the ground. Roru froze. This was not her doing. After a split-second of initial shock, she whipped around to glare at Hoseki. “What did you do?!” she shouted.

Hoseki narrowed her eyes, offended at the insinuation. “Don’t look at me! I did nothing!”

Meanwhile, Tekuno raced in to intervene. Deep down, he knew that something was very, very wrong. He brushed Suisen’s long, dark hair out of her face, pressed a hand to her pale forehead, checked her pulse, frowned. “Go get a medic-nin! Now!” he insisted.

Hoseki gave a single nod before racing off, not an ounce of hesitation in her limbs. Roru watched her disappear and the weight of the situation slowly descended upon her young shoulders. Suddenly Suisen looked so weak, so helpless. What have I done?

She stood there completely paralyzed as Tekuno propped Suisen up in his arms, pulled a scroll from his utility belt, summoned a first aid kit, worked steadily to support her until the medics came. When they did, the quickly transferred Suisen’s limp body onto a stretcher and rushed her away.

“What the hell are you doing?” Hoseki shouted at her, whacking her comrade on the shoulder. She grabbed Roru’s hand, tugged her onward. “Let’s go!”

The waiting felt endless as Roru and Hoseki sat slumped in the waiting room, watching Tekuno pace back and forth. And then Suisen’s parents arrived, her sweet mother hysterical and her father’s face stony with concern. Tekuno explained the situation to them and Shirayuki Unohana immediately broke down, her hands shaking and knees faltering. Without even a diagnosis, she was already hysterical. Her husband wrapped an arm around her in support and guided her to a seat by the window, assuring her that everything would be fine even though he wasn’t very convinced of it himself.

None of it made much sense to Roru. Suisen was fine, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like she was diseased. Perhaps it was just heat exhaustion, or exhaustion in general. They had been working extremely hard lately. Tekuno pursed his lips and wondered if this was his fault, if he had taken things too far. But the girls wanted to work hard. They were the ones setting the schedules, pushing themselves. Perhaps he should have regulated their training better, forced them to take a step back when they were on the verge of going overboard. Either way, he felt as if he, too, was to blame.

After nearly an hour, the doctor finally emerged from the emergency room. He was a rather tall and skinny man with angular features and taut lips. Nothing about him was very reassuring—he had the type of face from which you would expect to hear that you only had three weeks to live. A shiver ran down Roru’s spine.

The verdict? Anorexia.

A cold chill unanimously rushed through the lot of them. Suddenly it was as if the room was completely empty save for themselves, the walls closing in and the air ice cold. Dr. Gon explained that once Suisen had come to, they conducted various physical and pscyological examinations on her, and that was their conclusion. Anorexia.

Words like underweight, malnourished, anemia, and treatment all circulated through Roru’s head. It just didn’t make any sense. What reason did Suisen have to be anorexic, anyway? She had a happy home life with parents who loved her. She was smart and skilled and capable as a shinobi. She wasn’t even fat. It didn’t make any sense.

Dr. Gon continued to explain that due to how severe a case she was, they would have no choice but to admit her to their inpatient program for treatment. He then turned to Tekuno-sensei, muttering, “Which means your involvement in the chunin exams is now null and void.” Roru’s body went cold. She gripped the edge of her seat and suddenly the room began to spin.

After all her hard work, all her blood and sweat and tears, this was how it was going to end? No. Absolutely unacceptable. Roru cursed Suisen under her breath. How dare she do this to her. It just didn’t make any sense.

And what the hell was an inpatient program? Roru’s mind immediately flickered back to ghost stories told at the academy, of strait jackets and large needles and tranquilizers and the shrieks of the mentally insane. She couldn’t fathom picturing sweet, shy Suisen in a place like that.

“It’s really not that big of a deal” Hoseki said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “My cousin is up there in the same place as we speak.”

“You mean Kagami?” Roru asked. She had only met Kagami Kenshin a handful of times and each time she had, he gave her the creeps. He was a quiet, fidgety guy with mismatched eyes and a nasally voice. He constantly looked displeased with the world, so much so that he decided to spend all his time in others—that is, the worlds housed within books.

Hoseki nodded disdainfully. “That idiot’s head got all out of whack to the point where he tried to kill himself” she explained. “Mama found him passed out on the floor with a bottle of pills. And now he’s laid up in the same place that Suisen is. It’s just what happens when people are messed up in the head.”

Roru pursed her lips. She didn’t particularly appreciate Hoseki’s bluntness, but Roru knew that she did not know much better herself. After all, in the back of her mind all she could think about was how Suisen had ruined everything. None of them would be making chunin this year.

As Suisen’s parents struggled to comprehend this new information, and Tekuno attempted to console them, Roru took the opportunity to slip away from the chaos. She needed fresh air and distance. She needed to sit with her bare feet in the courtyard grass and implode in on herself, completely alone and defeated. She should have done something. She should have paid closer attention. She should’ve seen the signs. Roru pressed a hand to her anxious stomach and reminded herself that she was not much better.

No wonder she couldn’t realize that Suisen had a problem. Roru’s relationship with food wasn’t exactly perfect, either. But Roru was different. She didn’t restrict on purpose. She thought of her family, of the curse laid upon them, the hereditary stomach ailments that they all faced. Restriction was merely a precaution. She was intolerant, defective, diseased. Her actions were for the sake of her own health. And still, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was partially to blame. If Suisen saw the way she avoided food and followed suit. Girls their age were so easily influenced anyway. But Suisen was smarter than that. She could tell the difference, couldn’t she? Roru hoped that was the case. If not, then Suisen was a damned fool.

Roru paid no mind when the door from the hospital lobby creaked open. If it was Hoseki coming to nag her about sulking, she didn’t want to hear it. If it was Tekuno-sensei coming to explain things to her delicately, like she was a dumb child, she didn’t want anything to do with that, either. Instead, out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a bizarre green blur. For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating and therefore had no other choice but to turn and view her interruptor fully.

“Hello! What are you doing out here all alone?” he asked. Standing before her was a boy, tall and lanky with his shiny black hair cut in the most ridiculous bowl cut she had ever seen. Even more ridiculous was the green lycra jumpsuit he wore, complete with vivid orange legwarmers. He looked straight out of an 80’s aerobics video. No doubt about it, this was Might Guy’s protégé.

Roru had nothing against Might Guy, truthfully. In fact, she was rather fond of him. He was bright and enthusiastic and got along splendidly with her family. She was sure Uncle Hakai had hoped at some point that he and Sekkachi would get together, but they all knew Sekkachi was not the type. Still, to see them together was always bizarre. Sekkachi was so blunt and cynical, whereas Might Guy was everything she was not. Roru wondered if the boy standing before her now was much the same.

Unfortunately, Roru was not in the proper headspace to show him the kindness he deserved. “What do you care?” she asked flatly, turning her gaze away from him.

“Because you look like you are upset! I know it is hard not to be upset in a hospital, but you are like a beautiful angel who deserves to be happy and smile!” the boy replied. Roru cocked a brow in confusion, though deep down she hated to admit that she was flattered. No one had ever said such kind things to her before. At a time like this, it felt especially nice. The boy then sat down on the empty seat beside her and continued, “Now please, tell me what is wrong so I might be able to make you feel better!”

“Y-you…would really do that for me?” Roru asked. “But I don’t even know you.”

The boy paused then, blinked despondently, and then bowed his head in deep apology. For a moment, Roru was certain that heavy tears were flowing down his cheeks. “Where are my manners?! I am so sorry, Guy-sensei! I have failed you in the art of introduction! My name is Rock Lee! It is an honor to meet you!” He quickly took hold of Roru’s hand then and planted a polite kiss on the back.

“Um, nice to meet you…Rock” Roru muttered, uncertain. All the while, she willed the blood away from her cheeks.

“Oh, no, you can just call me Lee!” he corrected.

“So…is your first name Rock or is your first name Lee?” she asked.

Rock Lee paused for a moment before replying, “My first name is Rock, and my last name is Lee! I can see how that would be confusing! But I prefer to just be called Lee!”

Who the hell names their kid ‘Rock’? Roru thought to herself. Looking at him now, though, she couldn’t say she was entirely surprised. The kid exuded bizarre. With a slight nod, she muttered, “I’m Roru. Roru Fumeiyo.”

“What a beautiful name!” Lee gushed. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl! There is nothing more fitting! Now, please, tell me why you are so sad!”

Roru pursed her lips, considered him. Why was he being so nice to her? Was he just vying for her affection, or did he truly, genuinely care about her feelings? At this rate, it didn’t matter. The fact that he was even expressing concern for her was enough to open the floodgates. Eyes locked on the ground, she explained the situation as best as she could to him. She could sense Lee’s face soften at her words, her tone weaving between concern and disappointment and anger. Once she was finished, there was a moment of silence and then Rock Lee spoke.

“Do not get down on yourself!” he exclaimed. “I know it is hard, and you may feel like you will never make chunin, but Guy-sensei has always told me that if you want something badly enough, then it is never out of your reach!” He clenched his fist at his chest and grinned proudly, his eyes glossy with passionate tears.

“That’s easy for you to say” Roru snarked. “I bet climbing the ranks has been a breeze for you.” If Might Guy’s work ethic was any indication, she was certain that Lee had inherited the same vigor and determination.

Lee, however, shook his head. “Do not be so quick to judge!” he reminded her. “Roru, do you know why I am at the hospital today?” Roru shook her head. She presumed he was visiting a sick friend or something. He certainly did not look sick himself, but then again neither did she. “A year ago, I took the chunin exams. I fought against Gaara of the Sand, who has since become the Kazekage. He was a very strong opponent, and we fought long and hard. I did my best to prove that I am worthy as a shinobi, even though I cannot use ninjutsu or genjutsu! But I pushed myself too far and suffered serious injuries. If it was not for Lady Tsunade and her amazing medical ninjutsu, I may never have been able to walk or fight again! I am at the hospital today because I had a follow-up appointment for the surgery, to make sure that everything is still healing properly. I am happy to say that my body is recovering very well!”

Roru dropped her gaze to the ground, took a moment to absorb everything that Rock Lee had told her. It was hard to believe that not so long ago, he had faced such incredible odds himself. He seemed so optimistic, so upbeat and bright. Where did he find the energy to be so hopeful? And on a related note, his story made her feel almost pathetic for being angry. Other people had faced much larger obstacles than she did. Who gave her the right to be pissed off about something so petty? Not to say that her disappointment had not been erased because it hadn’t—not in the slightest. She only felt even worse about it now.

“Roru” Lee then said, and she snapped her head up, her heart leaping into her chest at the way he spoke her name. “I am sorry that you have been met with a terrible setback. I am sorry that you are disappointed in what has happened. But I hope you do not blame yourself for what has happened to your friend.”

Sighing, Roru shook her head and asked, “What am I supposed to do, though?” She swept her thick bangs back out of her face, careful not to disturb the little white bow fixed at the base of the swoop. “I feel so helpless. I can’t wrap my brain around any of this, it just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Lee frowned, and there was something so unnatural about it. “I do not know” he admitted. “I am sure that your friend is fighting a battle right now that we may never be able to understand. All we can do is give her our youthful support!”

“Our youthful support?” Roru repeated.

Lee nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Guy-sensei told me that when people are in a dark place, they need as much light and love as possible to find their way out. And that is what we must do for your friend! We must shower her with all of our passionate support and let her know that we are here for her and want her to get better!”

Roru couldn’t help but laugh. The way Lee approached life, it was so innocent and straightforward. She had to admit, she appreciated that about him. And while she still was struggling to come to terms with Suisen’s situation, and the consequences of it all, Lee made her feel at least a little bit better.

“Hey, Lee?” she said after a stretch of silence. He raised his bushy brows as if to silently show he was paying attention. “Thank you.”

“Is it no problem at all!” Lee replied with an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Let me make it up to you” she said. Turning to him, a small smile spread across her lips and finally, she was no longer able to restrain the blush touching her cheeks. “Do you like dango? My treat. We can share fighting techniques if you want. I can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu either.” A small, sheepish giggle bubbled up from her chest and she couldn’t believe how nervous she had become around him. How anxious she was for him to say yes.

A wide grin spread across Lee’s face then as he leapt to his feet, took her hand in his, and together they departed from the hospital. And while the day had gone so bitter so quickly, as Roru walked alongside this strange and upbeat boy, she began to take comfort in knowing that maybe, just maybe, there was a hint of sweetness in it after all.

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The Silver Screen Savant, pt 2- the Meh, the Bad and The yikes.

Hello Writers!

Last time here on Starry Starry Write, I talked a little about Autism in the media and my personal experiences therein. Today, I’d like to go a little broader, and tackle the topic from a macro perspective.

In recent times, you’ve probably heard “Representation Matters” oft repeated. Especially in prominent talking spaces like social media. But what does that mean, exactly?

Why “Representation Matters,” and how.

The short answer:

Diverse representation in media tells us that everyone has a place in the world. That everyone’s story matters.

The long answer:

It’s no secret that we begin engaging with media at a young age. When I was growing up in the 90’s and 00’s, TV and video games were often the babysitters of my peers. I was one of the few kids in my neighborhood whose parents weren’t divorced. The kids I knew? Not so much. Most of them were raised by single parents, grandparents and of course-the boob tube. I personally prefered books, when my mom wasn’t yelling “it’s too nice out to be holed up in that dark bedroom!”

Now, don’t mistake my preference for some kind of intellectual superiority. I watched plenty of TV too. Besides, books aren’t magically out of the equation. Printed material is our oldest form of media. And- often just as problematic. Though I will say- I saw a much broader range of people on covers adoring library shelves than I ever did titles on a TV roster. But, I digress. The point is: for many of us, consuming media begins at an early time of our life. And that’s where the problem starts. Even in my childhood, where The Magic School Bus, Hey Arnold, and Sesame Street showed people of all kinds, I can point to many that did not. Especially not people like me. Which did me a grave disservice. I didn’t know I was on the spectrum for a long time, and when I finally found out, I was horrified, thanks to what I had seen on TV.

Because media is not only a wonderful way to learn about people that don’t look, act or sound like us. It also informs our ideas of who we are, and what we can be. Whether we like it or not: it shapes how we understand the world. And it doesn’t stop with Childhood.

Time Changes Much, but not all.

Things are better now. Well, a little bit, anyway.

As an adult, I see more people like me on the screen nowadays. Which is nice.

Ish.

Why “ish?” Well…

Frequently, these “noticeably different” characters (read: Autistically coded) are branded “NOT AUTISTIC!” You heard it here first, folks! That one character (insert your favorite) is Totally Not Autistic. Despite being written in a way that gives every indication otherwise.

*Facepalm*

Now for some examples, which we’ll call the “Meh,” “The Bad” and the “Yikes.” For “fun,” we’ll also go into the off-air perceptions of the characters.

The “Meh.”

First on the list is Dr. Spencer Reid, from CBS’s “Criminal Minds.”

Dr. Reid is the youngest member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, having joined at the age of 22. He holds three B.A degrees in Sociology, Psychology and Philosophy, as well as three Ph.D’s in Engineering, Chemistry, and Mathematics.

He also has the social skills of a limp dishrag. Wait, what’s that? High Intelligence + Low Social Awareness? Hmmm…Then there’s his restrictive behavioral patterns, obsessive interests, and general “quirkiness!” that we could talk about. But let’s hear a quote from the actor who plays him, Matthew Gray Gubler:

“..an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger’s Syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three PH.D.s and one can’t usually achieve that without some form of autism.”

Hoooo-boy. I could go into all the things wrong with this, including why the term “Asperger’s” is both horrific (TW: Eugenics,Ableism, N*zis) and harmful. However, today we’ll simply leave it with the fact that this term is no longer applicable, having been reclassified in 2013 as part of Autism Spectrum disorder.

The “Bad.”

Next up, we have Will Graham, from NBC’s Hannibal.

Like our first example, Will works for the FBI. He’s a gifted criminal profiler with “special” abilities, namely hyper empathy, which allows him to reconstruct the actions and fantasies of the killers he hunts. He’s intellectually gifted, hates eye contact, socializing, and prefers to spend…most of his time…alone.

Oh dear. Haven’t we been here before? But, I mean, he doesn’t have Autism! The show runner says so!

For Will Graham, there’s a line in the pilot about him being on the spectrum of autism or Asperger’s, and he’s neither of those things. He actually has an empathy disorder where he feels way too much and that’s relatable in some way. There’s something about people who connect more to animals than they do to other people because it’s too intense for whatever reason.

You can’t see me right now, but I’m cringing. A lot. This is just…ugh. I mean, for starters, I know a handful of autistic people who struggle with hyper empathy, which can make social situations overwhelming and hard to navigate. In fact, I happen to be one of them. Plus, there’s a cool little thing about how, frequently, people on the spectrum more readily identify with animals. But, y’know. Who am I to say? I’m just someone, one of many, who’s dealt with this my whole life.

Now, onto the “Yikes.”

*sigh*

And finally, we have BBC’s Sherlock, a modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s renowned “consulting” detective, and probably the most famous fictional character of all time.

Now, I’ll start by saying that the BBC incarnation is not the first to be Spectrum labeled. In fact, Sherlock was my childhood hero, and the first “person” I saw referred to this way. My aunt, an avid reader herself, casually remarked to a friend “I’ve always wondered if Holmes is Autistic,” after I came yammering on about how fantastic the books were. Had I not been champing at the bit to get back to my reading, I might have asked her what that meant.

I also believe this fandom driven speculation is why many detective type characters (see above) are often coded as Autistic, intentionally or otherwise.

In this New York Times article, Lisa Sanders, M.D. describes Holmes traits:

He appears oblivious to the rhythms and courtesies of normal social intercourse — he doesn’t converse so much as lecture. His interests and knowledge are deep but narrow. He is strangely “coldblooded,” and perhaps as a consequence, he is also alone in the world.

Now, before we go any father, let me take a moment to defend his creator. During the time Sir Arthur Conan Doyle first created his most famous work, Autism was not known. That isn’t to say it didn’t exist. We’ve always existed. In fact, it’s now believed that the Changeling Myth, a common European folk story, was a way to explain Autism. In one telling (there are a few) children displaying “intelligence beyond their years” and “uncanny knowledge” were imposters, traded out by Fae creatures for offspring of their own. Children believed to be “Changlings,” regretfully, often came to a bad end. A chilling reminder that the stories we tell impact our real lives.

So while Autism was at least somewhat recognized, it did not become its own official diagnosis until 1943.

Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes was first published in 1892. Now, as a writer who often draws from my personal reality, I imagine Doyle probably “wrote what he knew,” which is to say, acquainted with one or more Autistic people, he used them as inspiration.

On the other hand…

BBC’s Sherlock first aired in 2010. And while one might argue that the writers simply capitalized on the Autistic fan-theory, or took already available traits and exaggerated them for their version… they left a lot to be desired. Autism aside, this new Sherlock is…well…an asshole. Narcissistic, abusive and egocentric (to name a few) he sweeps his caustic behavior under the rug of “high functioning sociopath,” and blytly ignores the consequences.

Which is a major problem. Because while doing this, he’s still “obviously” (at least in the Hollywood sense) Autistic. In my previous post, where I said some characters are “too smart™, and logical© to ever have feelings, friends or empathy,” this is what I meant.

This is bad. We’re looping right back to Representation Matters. Bad representation, and the navigating of such, is just as important for writers to think about as good representation. Maybe even moreso. Because bad representation paints real people into cardboard, stereotyped people-shaped things. It otherizes. And it’s harmful. You would not believe the people I’ve met assume I’m not Autistic because I’m not an egotistical jerk. Why? Because they watched, you guessed it, BBC Sherlock.

Confession time:

Now here’s my little secret:

I love all of these characters. They are some of my favorite on tv. Why? Because for good or ill, I recognize myself in them. Finally, I can turn on the TV, and see myself. Or, somewhat, anyway.

My favorite character out of this list? Loath though I am to admit it… Is Sherlock. See, what those well meaning folks didn’t know (the ones who say I’m I’m “too nice,” to be Autistic) is… well, if we’re being honest, I wasn’t always nice. A few years ago, I was that guy. I was a jerk because I thought I was the smartest person in the room. Which is really not a good look. In fact, sitting down and watching the first season of sherlock, (around three or four years after it came out) made me realize how much of a jerk I actually was.

There are other things there too. Things that tie me to all these characters, that I didn’t list. But that’s for another today.

For now, I’d like to add a caveat or two:

1) I’ve watched all the shows listed above, and adore them. As I mentioned, Sherlock is my favorite. He’s also the one I’ve watched the most (Repeatedly, in fact. Whoops.) and I recognize it’s not all bad. In the end, he learned to treat people better (somewhat) and certainly became more human over time. And, there are other deeply problematic elements of the show I’d like to tackle, eventually.

*cough* Queerbating! *cough*

2) I’m well aware that the above cases are all thin, white, able bodied, “straight” males. But I chose these characters for a couple of reasons. One, they’re the most prominent type on TV. Again, we loop back around to representation, and why we need more positive, diverse examples of it.

And finally-

3) In my last post, I mentioned I’d give some “good” instances of Hollywood Autism trope. But I didn’t exactly do that. Partially, because half way through, I thought…perhaps…I’m not the best to judge what might be a good Autistic character. I mean, I’m sure someone will read this and think my current aforementioned characters are fine. Heck! They might even argue my perception here, and say the characters are just fine. I accept that. In my life, both on and off the page, I recognize that I cannot, should not (and don’t want to) speak for an entire community.

Because of this, I cannot tell you how to write a “good” Autistic character, or what media is “acceptable.” I can’t even really tell you what a bad character is. Sure, I have a lot of opinions about it. But- if you’re on the spectrum and like and identify with the above? That’s fine. I mean, even with all the problems I noted (and some I didn’t) I certainly do.

On the other hand, if you’re a writer, and you want to write a character from this (or any, for that matter) community you aren’t part of, I caution you.

Do your research. Preferably from multiple credible sources.

Talk to people on the spectrum about what it’s really like. (Though try to steer clear of asking for emotional labor.You could, say, hop on reddit and ask the community there, for instance, which is a no pressure way to obtain potentially decent info.)

Finally, whatever you do, remember this-

Autistic people can look like anyone. We can act, and think and be different, like anyone. We are real, living, breathing people. Not robots, not sob stories, not tropes. People. So if you write about us, write us like people. And your work will be all the better for it.

-Your Loving Vincent

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