#autism consuming me taking me over

[agenderduck]

so we all agree that red is a moomin esque creature correct? this is true, i will not be holding space for any disagreements.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

re: the last post i reblogged bc i am realizing just how much i yapped in the tags and i do not wish to subject the wider tumblr public to that rant LMAO

[gayalanwake]

sorry if I become extra annoying im kinda tweaking over being on my own for the first time sooooo I might let myself become extra indulgent 💔💔💔

[gourde]

Man this Sonic x Claymore fanfic is going to be my magnum opus. Once I'm done writing it I will explode in brilliant light. Women from all over will desire me carnally. I will get a 1958 Edsel Ranger in perfect condition, given to me from the stars. And my back pain will go away.

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

[starsofang]

simon riley x autistic!reader requested by anon! <3 tw: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v, but all of it's really fluffy

a/n: was originally gonna make this request more of a headshot typa deal but ended up writing 2.7k of fluffy sex with Simon and autistic/virgin reader, so i hope you enjoy anon, and i'm so sorry for the long wait <3

Simon knew you like the back of his hand. He knew every little quirk, even the ones you weren’t even aware about.

He kept you afloat amongst an unpredictable sea that threatened to consume you and pull you down under. Your head could be its own raging storm, cracking with jolts of thunder that shook your state of mind, yet Simon was the gleam of sunshine poking through the clouds.

That’s how it had been up until this point. Your relationship was a sweet one, filled with fields of flowers and the buzz of bees. It was soft and supple, but lately, there’d been a brewing cloud looming over your colorful paradise,hiding away the rays of light your flowers needed in order to blossom.

Sex. It was the most complex form of intimacy in your mind, and it was why you’d avoided ever doing it like the plague. The turmoil that the mere thought of sex brought you was nerve wracking, nearly throwing you into overdrive.

Simon never asked for it. He seemed perfectly content with the way things were – staying up late to hear your enthusiastic passion that poured from your lips like his favorite bourbon, encouraging your interests with subtle gifts he’d give you when he’d happen to see it passing by, holding you when your mind wasn’t a whirlpool of spitfire that threatened to lash out at you.

He never asked, nor did he seem keen on asking. And that was the issue.

You were curious.

Simon had allowed you to positively be you in all forms. He didn’t define you by your autism, it was simply a chapter in the book about you, while the rest of your story was much more special in his eyes. It wasn’t a setback, nor was it a concern – it was there, and meant to stay.

No matter how supportive he was towards your individuality and your comfort, it didn’t settle the unease of wanting to take the next step, but not knowing how to ask for it.

It festered your mind like a flu until it began to worsen into a burning fever. You kept it bottled up, the feeling of keeping it locked away making your body feel as if it were going to combust.

It didn’t take Simon long to notice. Of course it didn’t. Like said previously, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, sweetheart?” he asked you when he finally had the chance to sit you down in his room.

The curtains were shut to keep the light out, knowing they irritated you and too much brightness made your eyes squint to the point of an ache. It was quiet apart from the subtle background noise of his TV, plastered with a show you enjoyed watching on nights alone with him. Bits of you were neatly placed around the room, like your journal placed on his desk with your favorite pen carefully set on top of it, or your clothes folded in a tidy pile on one of his shelves he had reserved for you.

“Nothing,” you responded, though Simon knew you enough to detect the lie, even from just one small word.

“You know you can’t hold it in, so talk to me,” he urged, taking a seat next to you from where you sat on the edge of his bed with your hands in your lap. You were picking at the skin around your nails, and like he’d always done, he picked them up into his own hands, soothing his thumbs along the back.

You blinked at him, mouth remaining shut. But the fever was becoming unbearable in your head, scorching you from the insides. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid asking him any longer.

“Why don’t we have sex?” you asked, blunt and to the point. His eyebrows raised from beneath his mask, one that he had yet to take off during your relationship. You never pushed since he never pushed you. Both of you had your own oddities, and for him, the mask was it.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he confessed, tone remaining calm and soft as he continued to encourage you to speak your mind. “I didn’t want to ask you, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

You don’t know why you found yourself frowning, but you did, feeling a bit stumped from his answer. He had a point. You’d made no indications on wanting to be more intimate, and Simon’s only ever considered you in your best interest.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he rushed to say. “I meant – do you want to?”

You did. The longer you found yourself thinking about it, the more you grew a need to try it. You trusted Simon entirely.

“I’ve never done it.” You felt embarrassed, though unsure why. This was Simon, after all.

“That’s okay,” he assured, giving your hands a squeeze. “Then we don’t have to, yeah?”

“But I want to,” you protested, frowning at him. He huffed out a quiet laugh, fiddling with one of your fingers affectionately.

“That’s okay, too.”

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, because I won’t be good, and I’m scared it’ll be too much, then I’ll ruin it by getting overwhelmed, and–”

“Hey,” Simon called out, lifting one of his hands off of yours to cradle your face. You sucked in a breath, exhausted from the rushed flow of panicked words that spilled out, allowing yourself to breathe. “We’ll take it slow, yeah? We’ll do everything at your pace, and the moment you say stop, we stop, no questions asked. I won’t be upset with you, sweetheart, and you certainly wouldn’t ruin it.”

You stared at him while he stared back at you, eyes filled with fondness and love that was only ever reserved for you. They were understanding, assuring, like deep pools of serenity you could float in forever.

“Promise?” you asked, and he laughed again.

“Promise.”

Simon continued to stare at you for a long moment, taking you in, before his hand lifted the bottom of his mask and tugged it over his head, showcasing the entirety of the very man who’d given his all to you. Since it would be your first time making a new step in your relationship, he figured he’d do the same by completely stripping himself of the very thing he wore to hide away.

Rugged and scarred, but beautiful, and you admired it until you surged forward to initiate the first move, like he’d always waited for you to do. He melted into you, cradling your face with tender emotion, pulling you in and calming the nasty sea that flooded your being.

Simon knew exactly how to make you feel safe, while also enjoying yourself. This wasn’t about him, it was about you, and he was absolutely determined to ensure that your first time was comfortable.

He covered the bed in your favorite blanket he kept just for you, soft and fuzzy, much more comfortable than the cotton sheet that always felt a bit too scratchy, even on his own skin. He laid it out for you, encouraging you to take your place.

His fingers were careful as they undressed you, and with every fabric he pulled off of your body, he took off of his own so the state of nudity was matched and you didn’t feel too exposed in comparison to him. He spoke to you with coated sweetness, telling you how proud he was that you told him of your needs, how honored he was that you trusted him to be the one to take you.

Simon took his time. He made no rush or fervent motion, and he allowed you the time to gather yourself if his hands became too much when they mapped out every inch of your skin. Soft and soothing, thumbs brushing along your hips as he waited patiently for you to assure him to continue.

When you were fully exposed to him, he smiled at you fondly, eyes lighting with nothing short of love. He was seeing you for everything you were now, and though for brief moments it was overwhelming to you, he was quick to wash the burden of it away with gentle guides of his hands.

The first finger was uncomfortable, even if he remained careful and slow when prodding you. Your face had mushed up into one of discomfort, and his eyes never left sight of you so he could watch for any indication that it was too much.

You, on the other hand, were both on a cloud of praise from the way he handled you so cautiously, while also free falling from the sky in anxious turmoil. The TV was echoing in your mind, the sounds of chatter causing you to lose focus. Combined with the intimate touches he filled your body with, it was already starting to become too much. You just didn’t know how to express it.

“Hey,” Simon called out to you, easing his finger out of you and instead placing his hand on your hip. “Tell me. What is it? Do you want to stop?”

“No.” You shook your head, letting out an exhale you were holding. “No, just– can you turn off the TV? I can’t– I can’t focus.”

Simon smiled warmly at you, moving without hesitation to shut the television off. The room was quiet now, and you breathed a sigh of relief, your mind finally calming.

“Better?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to continue, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please.”

Simon gave your hip a comforting squeeze before resuming his previous notions, sliding the pad of his finger along your slit before easing back inside once again. It was only when Simon was sure you could take it that he pressed in a second one, keeping his pace slow and controlled.

Discomfort was turning into pleasure, the feeling so new to you, so foreign. It wasn’t as overstimulating as you thought it would be thus far, but you had Simon there to assure it wouldn’t be.

The feeling of his fingers moving at a steady rhythm, back and forth with the occasional curl of the pads pressing up against your gummy walls, quickly spiraled into something good, something you didn’t hate.

Simon watched you the entire time, and when you gathered the courage to open your eyes and look at him, his smile nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

“You’re doin’ good, sweetheart,” he praised, and a whimper left your mouth, causing you to squirm shamefully. “No, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be quiet around me, you know that, don’t you? Love hearin’ you, always love hearin’ your voice.”

His words caused your breath to quicken at the same time his fingers did, a spark of piping desire and need erupting inside of you, like lava spilling out of a volcano. It filled you to the brim, threatening to explode.

“That’s it, sweet girl. There you go,” he cooed, further urging you to let out any noises you had been holding back.

Before you could revel in the newfound fulfillment, his fingers slipped out of you, leaving you to whine at the loss. He smiled softly at your pout, lifting his clean hand to smoothen the furrow in your brow.

“I want to be inside you when you cum for the first time,” he explained, and you scrunched your nose up at his choice of words. They were unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, and clearly he found it amusing, judging from the snort that exhaled through his nose. “You tell me if it gets too much. Promise.”

You released a shaky breath, peering up at him from where he hovered over you, his hand tracing the lines on your face.

“I promise.”

That was all he needed to line himself up with you, gently easing the tip of him inside. It was an uncomfortable stretch, one that had you whimpering in disturbance. Simon shushed you, cradling his hand over your cheek and placing a warm kiss on your nose.

“I know, sweetheart. Tell me to stop. I will.”

You shook your head in protest despite the clear fluster of your emotions. He could see the inner workings of your mind driving themselves into exhaustion, so he grabbed one of your hands that were fisting the tufts of your blanket in a death grip, gently guiding it to the span of his bare shoulder.

“Dig your nails in if you have to, pretty girl. I don’t mind, hm?”

He knew when you were stimulated, you needed something to grasp and claim as yours. It was the reason you picked at your fingers the way you did, or gnawed on your lip until it was bloodied and raw. Now, he was encouraging you to release that tension, but at his own expense instead. He wanted you to express yourself comfortably.

You did as he said the more he pressed into you. Your nails created sharp indents into his scarred skin, threatening to break and pierce into him. His face showed no discomfort of his own from the sting, instead focused on your own, eyes gazing into yours the entirety of him sheathing himself fully.

Every time your face twitched, he leaned down to kiss it, showering you with his encouragement and pride for you.

When his hips were flush with yours, he stayed still, giving you all the time you needed to adjust.

Your entire body was more full than ever before, and you began to take in that feeling. It was like the world came to a stop and was waiting for your return, remaining patient and kind while you gave in to the fresh feeling of intimacy to its fullest.

“Still good, sweetheart?” he asked, and his voice brushed all the worries away.

“Mhm.”

“Doin’ amazing, sweet girl. M’gonna move now, okay?”

Another nod and he began to guide his hips back, dragging along the inside of your walls before promptly pressing back forward. It left your mind in a frenzy, and the only thing you could do was blink up at him and gasp every time he pushed and pulled in a game of tug of war.

Simon smothered you in affection while he continued to thrust into you, pressing along the spongy spot in your core that had your mind blanking. The blanket beneath you was soft against your skin, and you squirmed against it cozily whenever his thrusts had your body slightly shifting every time his hips slapped into yours, thankful he knew you well enough that he recognized what you needed to feel content.

Pleasure wracked your body, becoming overwhelming hot under the flesh of your skin. It flushed you a sheen a pink, layering you were evidence of your enjoyment, and he pressed daft kisses against the warmth.

The chord was unraveling, and the more it threatened to snap, the more Simon whispered you praises.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Doin’ so well, it feels good, yeah? You can let go, you can do it.”

With a loud cry, you did, the thin chord breaking in half and snapping, leaving you to burn with unfamiliar euphoria that took over every part of your bloodstream. It warmed you from the inside and out, and when you came down from it, Simon had pulled out, finishing himself off into his hand. When you gave him a confused and rather ruffled look, he smiled.

“Don’t think you’ll like the feelin', sweetheart,” he noted.

You laid there with an overwhelming flood of satisfaction when he went to clean himself up. When he returned, he had a warm washcloth that he used to carefully clean you up as well, knowing that if the wet, sticky feeling lingered, you’d grow agitated and uncomfortable.

Simon wrapped you up in his arms when all was said and done, making sure to brush away the stray hairs that tickled your forehead and instead tucking them behind your ears. Your mind was on mute, the consistent buzz that always lingered settling into nothingness. Simon tucked you into him, swaddling you with the fuzzy blanket and tugging it up over your ears just the way you liked, before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead and softly playing with your hair until you were consumed by your own sleepiness.

[elemom]

happy season 11! i just spent 1k votes on this. i also spent some on freezing the book and The Emperor tarot. excited for s12 after the grand siesta!!

if i were there i would have just eaten the forbidden scroll

[pansyfemme]

Listen. My best friend says the same thing about being "too much work". And it's true, she's a lot of work. She has PTSD and autism severe depression and dyslexia and arthritis and needs a lot of accommodations, and plans have to be made to fit her.

But you know what? She's worth every bit of effort. She's not too much effort because she's a human being who is one of the kindest and gentlest people I've ever met, even if she vehemently insists that it's not true. She needs help. But it's not her fault that the world wasn't built for her, not her fault that life fucked with her mental health and self-worth and abilities. It's worth every moment of work to keep her in my life.

I don't know your friends, but I do know that most people feel the same about my friend, and I guarantee that people feel the same way about you.

There's a difference between being a lot of work and too much work. Baking chocolate chip cookies for a friend from scratch is a lot of work, and a lot more work than just buying ones from the store. But would you say that it was too much work? That it wasn't worth it? That the effort wasn't rewarding, especially when you got to give your friend those cookies and see their smile?

I understand that these things don't sink in easily. Trust me, I know. But our brains are a lot meaner to us than most other people would be

thank you, this was comforting to read. My stress over being too much for my friends and family consumes me everytime my health weans. Growing up the way i did, no one intended to make me gain the association that doing bad = going through traumatic hospital visits and etc, but once that was formed, having a bad day started to feel like it was something I should be punished for. I am a whole lot of work, theres no denying that. At my best, my health is unstable and shaky. But I do a lot of work myself to keep going and get better, and i know to some level the people who have chosen to be close to me consistantly and are there for me when I need them are aware of the work I take and chose to do that work actively.

[cetaceacyberia]

even MORE sillies from @superxstarzz's classpect fusions!! this time with a wee bit of analysis below the cut because i have the evil homestuck autism that makes me go crazy about this stuff. also the reason these guys look freaky is because theyre a human+troll fusion

OKAY SO generally i imagine fusedtiers would naturally be far stronger than a regular tier, though not quite as strong as a master class, at least depending on the development of each. They are also, of course, far more specific in nature, leading to highly specialized roles. Anywho, here's my interpretation of the classes featured here. I'll probably end up doing more later. Apologies in advance for my wordiness. I know there's a lot of speculation about the role mages play, so I'll provide a brief explanation of how I interpret them first.

Mages, in my opinion, are the active counterpart to seers, being able to take the knowledge they gain through or recieve from their aspect and put it into action. For an example, a Mage of Space as is a component here would be able to take the knowlege of the behaviors of elements and atoms, and be able to manipulate them at their will, provided they know what they're doing, and it's physically possible, alongside being able to ascertain. This can be seen with Meulins ability to form relationships out of seemingly nothing and Sollux's pension for causing doomsday esque events (aradia, sgrub, the like)

Prophet of Design

Prophets, in my opinion, would take the prediction abilities of the seer and the active knowledge mages can use and be able to speak events into reality.

Prophets tend to be extremely high strung people. The suffering that comes with being a mage and the all-consuming knowledge that comes so easily to seers create a scenario in which it's very common for them to slip into anxiety about the events they cause. The butterfly effect, if you will. Prophets do not use their powers carelessly, each move is thought out and incredibly calculated. Prophets are, naturally, blindingly intelligent, being the fusion of the two knowing classes. This can manifest itself in many ways, though the shortcomings mages often experience in relation to their aspect can often cut down their confidence, leading to a prophet underestimating themselves constantly. Despite their anxious tendencies and low self-conciousness, prophets can also be very snarky and sarcastic, when not gleefully oversharing about whatever piques their interest at the moment.

Design would be the merging of the concepts of fate and inevitability with the universe, creation and physics. Design players have domain over the physical outcomes of things. Reactions, from chemical to physical, even quantum at a higher level, all of that is within the control of a Design player. So!! i think a Prophet of Design would be able to speak into reality the outcomes of reactions they create or observe. For example, prophet would be able to do something like say "when i take a step forward, I will actually be twelve feet ahead of where i would have been" and just have that shit happen. As they get stronger, their prophecies can becomem more long term and more drastic, from being able to speak into reality an event that will happen some time in the future to prediting events that might not even be physically possible normally. Beholder of Birth

A beholder, a class that combines the insane growth potential of a page and the mage's expansive knowledge to produce a role of one that is able to expotentially build on the knowledge they have of their aspect. To create entire knowledge trees given the smallest bit of information. From a basic fact to the most niche, minute detail, none of it can escape the gaze of a Beholder. A fully realized Beholder would know, quite literally, everything there is to know when it comes to their aspect, which can be an enormously vast amount when it comes to Space or Time players.

Beholders are natural detectives, though it never comes easy. It starts as the beholder starts to make connections, faint at first but with a sure sign there's something more. Often ones to second-guess their findings, but once they dig deeper, and their ideas are validated, there's nothing stopping a beholder from uncovering everything there is to know from that one initial spark. For lack of a better word, beholders are quirky people, kind but stubborn, and their ascenion often is hindered by that trait due to the help they might need at first. They might get knocked down easily at first, but are wickedly determined, and bounce back quickly and eagerly learn from their mistakes, often brute-forcing their way out of problems. Thanks to the manipulation of knowledge that comes with their Mage counterpart, rising the ranks is far easier for a Beholder than a Page, though roadblocks are to be expected with their headstrong attitude towards growth.

Birth is the merging of creation, physics and the universe with the mind, logic and raw information. I think these would blend into birth players being in control of the inception of very nearly anything. How exactly they can control this depends on the class, of course, but birth players hold the essence of creation in their very soul,

A Beholder of Birth would have the ability to hold an object and see everything that lead up to its creation, how it was created, and everything that happened to it. Not just objects either, but people and other living things. A fully realized Beholder of Birth could potentially have the full knowledge of everything that has ever happened in the universe, from before the big bang to the very end of it that was no doubt caused by the activation of SBURB and everything in between.

[spaceumbredoggos]

However fucked up Alex reveals Bill and Ford’s relationship is revealed to be in The Book Of Bill, Kenz and Bill’s is a hundred times worse.

Disclaimer: I am not glorifying abuse in any way shape or form. I myself have had nightmares similar to this despite never being sexually abused, both Bill related and otherwise. Some of these are based on personal experience (such as the nightmares), whilst others are a device used to show how fucked up shipping Bill with pretty much anyone is. Not even the Axolotl is safe in my opinion. If Bill was real, I’d guarantee he’d probably be a massive creep and with how thirsty his fankids are (and I’m calling myself out here) he’d probably use his magic to g*oom those kids like a church pastor. The thing that scares me the most about Bill being canonically real is not that he could catastrophically end the world, it’s his oversexualization in the fandom that got so bad, Alex himself had to make him unattractive. This will be along the lines of a Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader headcanons. With that being said, here’s a few content warnings:

G*ooming, Pedoph*lia, s*xual abuse and assault, physical and psychological abuse, mind control, cult-like things, psychosis, and general paranoia. I’m not saying these things actually happened, but knowing Bill’s character and his powers and history, if he was real, I’d generally be afraid for anyone in the Gravity Falls fandom. Especially minors.

This could be my most controversial post yet, and it could jeopardize any potential of getting into some colleges. This may sound like paranoid rambling, but I know that Bill is just a cartoon character. That being said, Alex like the blur the line between our world and the world of gravity falls with Bill’s character, dicing around the fact that he’s influenced history and wrote all religion on the basis of a lie. I’m not scapegoating him as “controlling global politics on a massive scale” because that would be stupid and I’ll sound like those tin foil hat rednecks that snort moonshine and burn pride flags. My heart goes out to all those who have been impacted by all forms of abuse as an abuse survivor myself. Alex, if you see this post (or any other of my posts/ read my fanfics), just know that it’s a critique on the fandom and the canon lore, and a cautionary warning to avoid lawsuits in case The Book of Bill Cipher causes mass psychosis.

As a kid (ages 7-9) I would watch Gravity Falls casually. At that age, the only thing I consumed online content wise was Skylanders and Minecraft content (Skylanders until age nine, then it was pretty much a lot of Team Crafted, Popularmmos, DanTDM, and other Minecraft YouTubers.) I didn’t invest in the Gravity Falls fandom until I was eleven (that’s when I first started writing my fanfics. The drafts are long gone because they were on school computers that were crammed with viruses due to kids installing Minecraft mods (this was just before chromebooks became mainstream. I went to a special ed middle school specifically for autistic individuals (it was pretty ableist, gonna make a post on that.) so the rules on what was allowed in school were pretty loose content wise. It didn’t have to be educational, as long as it didn’t have blood or guns. There were no safe search filters or Go Guardian (I remember one of my friends accidentally finding Iris from Pokemon black and white vore. I also found Pacifica vore.)) Before that, the February before my tenth birthday, my dad took my TV out of my room due to behavioral issues (undiagnosed autism go brrr). Around that time, there was talk in my town that the Disney channel was “rotting kids minds” with bad attitudes and crude humor (this could be said about any child’s television network (I mean, look at Nickelodeon.) but I lived in a pretty conservative area of Southern California and had a pretty conservative dad. So naturally, Disney was the scapegoat (this was way before the “woke” era of Disney.)) All of this talk of Brainrot made me stop watching the Disney channel during the peak era of gravity falls (2015 as a whole) and I didn’t watch gravity falls again until summer of 2016 when my tv was put back in my room (with intense parental controls so that I couldn’t watch my vet shows.) That’s when I had my first gravity falls dream about Bill cipher. It had to do with getting unicorn hair to protect my house from Bill Cipher. I had an interest in dreams previously due to warrior cats. It was at that moment when Gravity Falls was added to the obsession list.

As a neurodivergent eleven year old surrounded by other neurodivergent preteens and teens, we found common ground talking about Gravity Falls at school. I also would, whenever I didn’t feel the prying eyes of the grown ups or my peers would go off outside and act out my gravity falls x pokemon x warrior cats fanfiction (I’m not sure if those are signs of maladaptive daydreaming disorder or I simply had an intense imagination that would consume my body and make me want to just act out my fanfictions outside. I don’t do this anymore, mostly because of my own embarrassment and I can just write it out.) Yes, there were times where the discussion or action played out Bill Cipher being real. A lot of my “play” as I called it back then was me being kidnapped or possessed by Bill. I even wrote some really cringey fanfics involving my friends and Bill Cipher. To this day, I still involve my family in my fanfiction, but more final drafts will have their names changed. Weirdmaggeddon was a common topic, as well as Bill Cipher possession.

As time went on, I had more dreams about Bill Cipher, fueling the obsession and the fact that Bill could be real. During my middle school years, I never had a crush on Bill Cipher, despite what my friends seem to think. My parents just took it as whatever and as long as I was happy and just working towards going to a neurotypical non-sped school. My crush on Bill Cipher didn’t start until I was in high school. I remember it specifically being Valentine’s Day 2020 when I learned that I have a crush on the triangle. My dreams of Bill would only get more frequent and worse from here (involving the typical horny teenage dream that I don’t want to elaborate because I feel weird doing so (you’ll see why later on.))

Now there’s typically nothing wrong with having a cartoon crush. Given any other cartoon character that doesn’t have a canon history of influencing this world (Bill’s history of influence is vague but it still counts) I would excuse this as another silly cartoon crush like PurpleCliffe simping for Cynthia and the like. However, given that it’s in the show’s canon that Bill could be real and he crossed over to our world, do you understand what implications this could have? Bill is trillions of years old, he’s likely seen every timeline to ever exist. Meanwhile, there are whole armies of fankids who are down bad for him (including me.)

Notice how when I first started getting into Gravity Falls that I didn’t have a crush on him. How many other fankids felt the same way? It wasn’t until years of obsessing over Gravity Falls did I develop feelings for him. And of Alex says in the Book of Bill Cipher what I think he’s going to say (that Bill probably ab*sed Ford sexually with possible g*ooming involved), notice the pattern that is being presented here? Alex, if you blur the lines between fiction and reality with a villain who may or may not have canonically g*oomed and abused someone, possibly using mind control given his powers and his role as a dream demon, could it really be so far fetched that… (I’m not going to say it because it’s leaving a sour taste in my mouth, but use your imagination.)

If we take Alex’s word that Bill has crossed over to our world, then we can only assume that there are vulnerable kids and adults being… You get the picture. I’m not explicitly saying that it is happening right now, but this is problematic because revealing that Bill ab*sed Ford in that way means that Alex would probably imply that Bill is doing the same to MINORS. I may sound paranoid and this may just be a ramble, but considering the show’s canon and how mythology is filled with cases of degenerative acts from deities, this is a really fucked up situation.

It may be funny to say “haha, evil triangle man is sexy” but at the end of the day, Alex stated that Bill has crossed over into our world. For all we know, he could be taking advantage of the fact that people thirst for him, probably not in pleasant ways.

[totallyveryallosexual]

I see a lot of people say that people self diagnose neurodivergence because it's "quirky" or cool or something, which shows a lack of understanding of self diagnosis that I would like to correct.

1. I personally do not think I have autism because I "saw a tiktok and related to it". I think I have autism because I fulfill the diagnostic criteria that I have looked into extensively. I have sensory difficulties. I get overwhelmed by sound, and light, and the wrong fucking texture un my clothes or food. I was made fun of my entire childhood for "taking things too seriously", and I took what people said at face value, because I took things far too literally. I spent my entire childhood figuring out how to act normal, how to say the right thing at the right time so I wouldn't be made fun of or excluded. I am extremely comforted by various types of stimming, but was punished as a child for anything considered fidgety or abnormal. I love biology, and can infodump to you about genetics (special interest) for hours. This is an interest that can be considered abnormal, and it has consumed most of my available brain space for many years. Also, every single autistic person I've ever met has clocked me in about five seconds and immediately told me I have autism. The truth is, people don't self-diagnose themselves with a highly stigmatized disorder unless it is seriously impacting their lives.

2. Autism, especially in girls and bipoc, is often missed. If they can learn to mask it, it doesn't get diagnosed. I got straight A's all throughout high school, and I had teachers tell me that they thought I had autism, but that it was probably fine because it didn't impact my academics or my life. Spoiler alert: it did! People think that when a seemingly functional person claims to have autism, they are hopping on a trend, but most of the time, they are suffering. I was depressed and sometimes suicidal before I figured out I had autism. I got called a psychopath for things that should have been recognized as symptoms of autism, and a lot of the time I believed it because I didn't have any other words for myself. Our society is shitty and if you aren't a little cis white boy, it's much harder to get diagnosed.

3. Diagnosis is expensive, and hard to access! A lot of people don't realize that it's a privilege! It costs a lot of money to get diagnosed, money that not everyone can afford. It's also hard to get a diagnosis because of social stigma, especially if you figure out you have some form of neurodivergence under the age of 18. I'm a month shy of being a legal adult, and I know that while I'm working towards it, it will be a while before I can get properly tested and diagnosed. My mother, who would scream if she ever saw me wearing noise cancelling headphones in public, is not going to help me get a diagnosis. My mother, who has thrown what can practically be considered temper tantrums over me stimming (literally just tapping my fingers against each other) is not going to help me get a diagnosis. The children of parents who aren't ready to give up their image of a perfect child and think autism can be wished away don't have the same access to diagnosis as the children of parents who are willing to work with them and contribute financially, and neither does any adult who has gotten through life alright but struggles financially because They Have A Disability!!!

In conclusion, don't shame people who diagnosed themselves. I absolutely think the end goal should always be to work toward a professional diagnosis, but that isn't always feasible for people, and we can't sit around slowly drowning in the meantime. If you are worried about self diagnosed people taking away resources: guess what, there are no resources!

Self-diagnosis shouldn't be quick. It comes after a long time spent diving through symptoms and diagnostic criteria. But it gives people without access to diagnosis the ability to nonetheless understand themselves better. For me, it means being able to say "I'm overstimulated, I'm going to find a quiet place" instead of sitting and suffering. It means being able to say "I'm going to sit on the floor instead of my desk, because that grounds me and stops me from spiralling". It means stimming when I'm overwhelmed, and stopping when I need to, all without shaming myself or thinking of myself as lesser for not being able to do things I was told I should be able to.

[jackfromthefairytale]

I've made an observation over my years in fandom and so:

how correlated are neurodivergence and fandom?

this is under any kind of neurodivergence (any long term neurological difference from the societal "norm", and generally regarded as mental/neurological illness/disability)

(taking "engaging with fandom" as anything from/between creating gifs, edits, media-related videos (like amvs, compilations or video essays), parody songs, fanfiction, fanart, essays/theories about the media, and consuming a large amount/variety of fanworks (being any of the above), and there's probably more that I can't currently recall. it can be as simple as going out of your way to looking for fanmedia after consuming media)

(NOTE: this is not and should not be used as diagnostic criteria. this is me looking for a larger range of people to test a theory)

ids and explanations under the cut

option 1: I am clinically diagnosed and engage in fandom

option 2: I am self/peer diagnosed and engage in fandom

a lot of people self diagnose when there can be difficulty getting an official diagnosis (waiting lists, costs, doctors who won't take them seriously or other disadvantages). these conclusions are generally come to after a lot of research and deliberation.

to add "peer diagnosis" is generally within the autism community where some autistic people can consider they are autistic after a group of friends (who may be diagnosed autistic) notice comparisons with their friend's behaviour and together they deliberate whether they meet the criteria, again with a lot of research. this may also exist with other neurodivergence but I've mostly seen it with autism

option 3: I think I might be but haven't properly looked into it and engaged with fandom

this is for the people who have seen several of those posts describing symptoms of disorders and have been able to relate to them but haven't properly looked into it for whatever reason

option 4: I am neurotypical and engage with fandom

option 5: I am neurodivergent and do not engage with fandom

option 6: I am neurotypical and do not engage with fandom/show results

[dr-spectre]

So brainwashed Callie in official content is cringe. Do you feel the same about it in Fanfiction? Have there been any takes on Hypno Callie that you enjoyed?

Honestly? I don't feel the same way about it in fanfiction. There's a lot of information and different takes floating around about certain things in the franchise so I dont necessarily blame people for using the word "brainwashed" for Callie in their fanfiction. The English localisation of Splatoon has said she was brainwashed despite other languages and the original Japanese version not using the word. At least from my own knowledge. So I get why most fans would take that information and immediately believe it's true.

Plus there's more people talking about what actually happened to Callie on twitter and tumblr which is really incredible to see!!! Im so happy to see Callie being treated with more respect!!!!! It is a night and day difference compared to the treatment in 2017 to 2020.

Surprisingly enough I don't actually consume a lot of fanfiction. I can read my own writing easily but I can't read others that well and... I feel really bad about it... but I have read a bit of this one fanfiction that got Hypno Callie 99% right. I fucking forgot the name but i was recommended it by someone in the past, it had "dome" in the name? It was about DJ Octavio and the Octarian domes.

The way they explained the shades was actually really interesting and unique! It's basically shades that play catchy music and that's how Callie got hypnotised. It fits in line with DJ Octavio too as he's well... a DJ. Plus daydreaming and listening to music goes hand in hand so it has some basis in reality too. Everyone at some point has been put into a daydream state when vibing out to music.

Although I say 99% because there's this one line that Callie says, "Are these shades brainwashing me?" And it was so clunky I'm sorry LOL. And there's this implication that its also doing something further to Callie's brain but it's not that explained well, which i really dont like. Other than that, my Hypno Callie content is mainly fanart and 99% of that has been phenomenonal and powerful stuff.

However.... my biggest fucking gripe in "fan content" if you wanna call it that is... timeline videos and people going over plot details and stuff like that.

These people actually do RESEARCH and spend a lot of time analysing the story of Splatoon and trying to put the pieces together. Yet for Callie it feels like they just do a quick read through of Inkipedia and that's it because they dont give a flying fuck about her character. It drives me fucking psychotic and i cant be safe watching Splatoon videos anymore. How hard is it to say hypnotised? HOW HARD IS IT?!?!?! JUST USE THAT WORD!!! THATS ALL YOU HAVE TO DO!!! GOD DAMN!!!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW THE MEANING OF THE WORD BRAINWASHED AT ALL?!?!?!

It's really disappointing to me that this outdated timeline video is the ONLY VIDEO to say Callie was hypnotised and not "brainwashed." And that... makes me kinda pissed off.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE CHOSEN ONE!!!!

YOU TOO!!!!

I can't even watch these videos anymore man. I'm sad. I'm not even trying to send hate over to them, they put in a lot of work... except for a character I really care about....

Imagine you like a particular character and you feel really strongly about them. Now Imagine people saying wrong or yucky things about that character and treating it as fact despite you knowing "Hey something is not right here. I think there's more here than people realise." And all the most popular and well liked content is spreading that kind of information around about your favourite character. It would drive you crazy yeah? I'm sure everyone has that one character in every fanbase.

Anyways, thanks for the ask! Sorry if it was long... I tend to ramble about Hypno Callie LOL! (Autism)

[poeticexhalations]

I Was the Favorite Child

I was the favorite child, and it wasn’t as nice as you would think.

I grew up hearing the following phrases: 

“We don’t have to worry about you.”

“You’ve got this.”

“Can you do that on your own?”

It wasn’t independence. It was isolation. I was the favorite child who could do no wrong, which means that my parents never looked in my direction. I’d scale the large tree in my mother’s front yard, scrape my palms on the rough bark as I climbed to the very top to read my books, and she wouldn’t notice I was gone. The peace was nice, but lonely.

I learned very early on in my life that if I were going to survive and be happy, I’d have to do it independently. Because my childhood was a test of independence.

My brother was diagnosed with autism at a very young age (three?). He didn’t talk for years. This terrified my father; he believed his son to be “inferior”, and didn’t take the news well. Allegedly, my father tried to kill himself twice because of my brother’s diagnosis.

What a wimp.

My mother took the news hard too, but she was my brother’s mother. She would love him unconditionally regardless of his diagnosis. My brother and my mother always had a special bond that couldn’t be replicated. Even though I desperately craved that closeness to my mother, it was my brother she truly fawned over. He was her universe; he was her mirror. They had the same smile, the same hair, the same nimble hands that loved to play guitar, the same artistic skills. He learned these things at the cost of me learning them, so I taught myself many skills during my childhood.

I was a tree-climbing expert.

I consumed books like they were oxygen.

I grew an unhealthy obsession with vampires and horses.

I learned how to make my own noodles.

I learned what corners of the backyard my father never sought me out, and the only reason he ever would seek me out is to have me do something for my brother.

My brother was my mother’s universe, and he became mine, too.

He was the black hole in which my life moved around.

We shared a birthday, and my brother got to pick out the cake. The location. The theme.

We shared a room, and my brother got to pick out the wall color. The shows we watched on our brick of a television. The carpet.

We shared a school, and my father famously told me that they’d double-up on our conferences because we were twins. Each child was allotted twenty minutes. My teacher and my parents would spend five minutes discussing me, and thirty-five minutes discussing my brother. 

We shared family vacations, and my brother got to pick the rides at the theme parks, the food we ate, the pools we swam at. I had to give up my water-raft for his scrambler. I gave up horse-back riding for his Lego experience. I had to give up my pepperoni pizza so he could have cheese (and no, my brother would not pick it off).

As I got older, I was told that only one of us could go to therapy; my parents couldn’t afford therapy for us both. It had to be my brother. And not only did it have to be my brother, but I had to take him. And be patient. And kind. I wasn’t allowed to be angry that my weeknights were filled with waiting rooms while I watched him play on the slides with his therapists. I snuck onto a slide once around the back, and hid in the ball pit, just so I could play, too. 

I got a good spanking that night and learned one lesson: My brother played. I watched.

Even when I ran the scissors across my wrists, I couldn’t go to therapy. I’d be told to “stop being dramatic” and would be demanded to use the car to drive my brother downtown for his next appointment.

My brother was both my poison and my antidote.

Because even though he dictated my childhood, he was–is–my closest friend. I resented my parents, never him. It was never his fault that I had the childhood that I did. 

Autism, and the challenges that accompany autism, are never the fault of the individual.

My brother is a beautiful person; he is light and music and harmony in one person. He is joy and love and purpose. If the universe had a soul, I have a feeling it would be my brother. My brother could sit and watch the rocks for hours, and find beauty in the way that water crests over them and changes their hues from black to brown to gray. my brother could listen to a song one time and memorize it, then play it perfectly on the guitar. My brother picks up injured animals on the side of the road and they never cower from him. We learned an entire fiction language on our own just to communicate when the moon was high in the sky without our parents learning, or pass notes in class without being caught. my brother would sneak me his Pokemon cards that he knew were my favorites under the table, my brother would eat my broccoli at dinner so I didn’t have to when our father was turned away, my brother would hug me far longer than either of my parents ever did.

The things my brother taught me… I don’t know where to begin.

Having a twin brother with autism taught me to put myself in other peoples’ shoes.

He taught me that rage isn’t usually the answer.

He taught me that fantasy is superior to reality, especially if it has elves in it.

He taught me that caring for someone else in many ways is also caring for yourself.

He taught me to make friends with people for who they were, not what they looked or sounded like.

He taught me that sometimes, it's worth pausing and looking at a rock. Or a tree. Or a leaf. Or the moon. Life moves fast, and my brother slows down to appreciate it.

He taught me to be a better person, because I was forced to always put someone before myself. I was forced to be patient. I was forced to be educated. I was forced to understand different perspectives.

I was my parent’s favorite child, and it was isolation. But I was my brother’s universe, and he was mine.

[katyspersonal]

My autism is akin to a compass held in the zone where pole is... I think my pistacchio-sized brain is really starting to crack under all the Elden Ring information

I start to really miss Bloodborne, and Dark Souls still has so many topics to explore, but like.. Elden Ring just has sooooooo much information and characters that it consumes all my brain's RAM 🙄 It is not that I've lost interest to other Fromsofts, it is that my brain is overloaded! And eeeeveryone keeps suggesting the obvious solution: stop focusing on every character/theme and just choose a niche (specific cast, theme, ship, whatever). But I can't control this, I am cursed with extending at least minimal care about every character! I might take eternity to answer some asks over others, but what I physically CAN'T do is to say "I don't really care about this character" or "I don't have much to say about them".

Elden Ring has like 300+ characters and I physically can't remove any of them to free my memory and focus! My particular kind of autism is the one that "catalogues" everything and everyone rather than giving permanent hyperfixation to something specific. Even when I DO start to favor some character over others, I always go back to "counting" all their friends, enemies, family, encounters, potential connections, pets etc... and end up with entire cast again. If someone ever insults you for only caring about one character/ship, don't let it get to you! Trust me you do NOT want to be the kind of fan I am, it is permanent headaaaaache XDDD

[wielderofmysteries]

(We Need to Talk About Narset)

[Left: Narset, Enlightened Master - Livia Prima. Right, clockwise from top left: Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory, Dr. Shaun Murphy from The Good Doctor, Sam Gardner from Atypical, Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds.]

(This is a re-upload of the original article since there were some formatting issues with the original. You can still read it at this link, but the pictures aren't full resolution.)

This is article is intended to be a primer for my larger upcoming article on autistic representation in Magic.

I found out about Narset in 2018, when I had just started learning about Magic’s lore for the first time. I was overjoyed to see that Magic’s first official autistic character seemed to be the complete opposite of the stereotypical depictions of autism I’d seen in other media. Instead of a nerdy brown-haired white boy, Narset was a 50 year old Asian woman and a badass martial artist. As an Asian autistic kid, I often felt invisible and underrepresented in the media I consumed, so Narset really meant a lot to me.

However, when I actually read Narset’s lore, I was disappointed to find that she wasn’t nearly as revolutionary as I’d thought.

When the Dragons of Tarkir stories were being published in 2015, Doug Beyer, a writer and designer for Magic, confirmed in a Tumblr post that Narset was intentionally created to be an autistic character.

=========

maudlingoblin asked:

hi doug!! reading the new uncharted realms, i felt an enormous amount of sympathy for narset, specifically with reference to the beginning sequence with her as a kid. the restlessness, the sensory overload, the self-distraction with counting and observation - these, to me, heavily code narset as being autistic. i am autistic myself and it would mean the absolute world to me to know that a character in a game i care deeply about is like me, and many other folks. is this something you can confirm?

dougbeyermtg answered:

That was the intent, yes. The most important part of Narset’s character is her amazing mind, which is central to her potential as a powerful Planeswalker and as a pursuer of knowledge — but it happens that she processes information and input differently than a lot of other people. Tarkir denizens might not have a term for the autism spectrum or being neurodivergent or neuro-atypical, but those terms would correctly describe her. In this timeline she is not khan of the Jeskai, but no matter the circumstances, she hasn’t let go of her commitment to seeking her own path to wisdom and truth. Kudos to Creative Team member Kimberly Kreines for exploring this aspect of Narset in her story “The Great Teacher’s Student.”

[https://dougbeyermtg.tumblr.com/post/112727174244/hi-doug-reading-the-new-uncharted-realms-i-felt]

=========

(Art: Dragonlord Ojutai - Chase Stone)

The Great Teacher’s Student tells the story of Narset’s childhood under the rule of Dragonlord Ojutai. At eight years old, Narset was a pretty realistic autistic child, having many traits that I shared. She fidgeted restlessly, had sensory overloads, and her mother found it difficult to take her out to public spaces. Narset’s brain was extremely pattern-oriented, one of the most defining traits of autism. She saw numbers everywhere, and counted to soothe herself.

=========

The cries of the merchants, the bold colors of the wares, and the too-sweet aromas of the produce were like walls that made the marketplace feel too tight, too close, too much. The muscles of Narset’s legs twitched and her lungs felt cramped. She tugged at her robe; it was strangling her. Her mother must have cinched it too tightly.

“Stand still,” her mother scolded from above. “You’ll knock something over.” She was poring over the apples at the top of a tall mound too high for Narset to see.

Narset tried to stand still, but she couldn’t. The restlessness inside her wanted her to move. Sometimes when she felt that way she distracted herself. She would count things, or search for patterns, or study people’s expressions. But she knew the marketplace too well; she knew its numbers and she knew its patrons. She had already taken inventory. The man with the cane was limping less that day, putting more weight on his bad leg; Narset supposed the balm he had purchased from the herbalist the week before had worked to ease the pain. There were, as usual, three dozen meat slabs hanging at the butcher’s stand with an average of eighteen striations per slab; the average number of striations hardly ever changed, although sometimes there was greater variance. The merchant at the squash stand had uneven stains on his sleeves and three stray threads hanging from his robe; he must have gotten it caught in his cart and had to pull himself free. And there were sixty-eight apples in the mound in front of Narset; that was accounting for the volume inside the mound, which she couldn’t see but could predict well enough. There would be sixty-seven apples if her mother would ever just choose one.

Her mother hemmed and hawed, her fingers alighting first on one apple and then another, fluttering over the choices, but never settling.

She’s never going to pick one, Narset thought. We’re never going to leave. Panic set in. Her vision blurred, her ears rang, and her forehead began to sweat. She frantically searched for something else to distract her, but there was nothing else she could see. At eight, Narset wasn’t tall enough to see over any of the stands or any of the bodies. It was like she was in a never-ending maze of tall sweaty, smelly people-trees.

She was trapped.

[The Great Teacher’s Student - Kimberly J. Kreines]

=========

Narset was a believably written autistic character in this story, but that doesn’t automatically mean it was good, or that it was what autistic people wanted to see. To be clear, this story was neither unrealistic nor offensive to me. Writing Narset as an autistic character was something the creative team genuinely cared about and tried to do well. But I was still disappointed because Narset in this story is just another example of the “autistic savant” trope that the media can’t seem to let go of.

Fictional or real, almost every autistic person you will see in the media will be a savant; some kind of socially-inept genius whose intelligence or skill far surpasses their peers. This person may be a mathematician, a surgeon, a child prodigy who attends college but can’t tie their shoes– the list goes on and on. You’ve probably seen many stories like this before.

As a child, Narset had an extraordinary memory and a gift for mental math. She was able to calculate the volume of a pile of apples, find the exact trajectory of a falling apple to catch it in mid-air, and memorize things like the pattern of a river’s flow; all at a glance.

In The Great Teacher’s Student, Narset accidentally knocks over a pile of apples at the market, upsetting the merchant and prompting her mother to send her outside. Dragonlord Ojutai noticed Narset’s talent and desire for knowledge as she explored the field outside, and wanted to encourage her. He tutored her from a distance for several years before officially deciding to train her as a student when she was 11 years old.

After this moment, the story shifts its focus almost entirely to Narset’s academic journey. We get to see that in the years that passed since Narset became a student of Ojutai, she was still really, really smart. She finally felt challenged and supported in the way she needed, and she was good at so many things.

In fact, she was better than everyone else at everything.

She learned more, and faster than everyone else. She won every fight. She spoke Draconic intuitively, and Ojutai constantly praised her. At age 15, Narset became the youngest person to ever hold the rank of Master.

=========

As she looked back now, she recognized her time at the sanctuary as the best years of her life. She was happier than she had ever been; she was challenged, recognized, fulfilled. Her restlessness had ceased haunting her; she had felt a sense of peace. And while she wasn’t physically moving, she knew she was on a path, going where she was meant to go, becoming who she was meant to be. Ojutai was leading her. And not a day went by that she didn’t thank her dragon for the gift.

Narset advanced more quickly than any other student, climbing the ranks of Dragon’s Eye Sanctuary, moving upward from the lowest balconies to the highest terraces, until one day Ojutai called for her to come stand on his own private perch.

[…]

“My student, Narset, it is time. Your hunger for knowledge is your greatest strength. You have become strong, and powerful, and wise because you have never stopped seeking enlightenment.” The dragon beamed down at her. She knew what was about to come, and for one glorious moment everything felt perfect. “I now bestow upon you the title of Master, which you have assuredly earned, and with it all the honor and responsibility it brings.” Ojutai bowed his head and rested his giant paw on her shoulder.

Narset bowed her head in return and clasped her small hand over the dragon’s paw, making no attempt to wipe the hot tear that streaked down her cheek. At fifteen, she was the youngest master Ojutai had ever named. She had reached the top.

[The Great Teacher’s Student - Kimberly J. Kreines]

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I didn’t like how Narset’s story focused so much on autistic exceptionalism– on how Ojutai gave her special treatment because she was better than everyone else at everything.

Autistic achievement should be celebrated, and Narset’s desire for endless learning is so deeply, truly autistic. But I feel like Narset’s story and those of other autistic savants are just so extraordinary that it’s too hard to relate to them. These kinds of fictional portrayals and real-world news features attempt to endear autistic people to allistic (non-autistic) audiences by saying, “Look! Autistic people aren’t bad, they’re actually better than us!” But focusing on exceptional individuals doesn’t help to humanize autism.

It sets an unrealistic expectation for autistic people, and can be extremely alienating. Autistic people shouldn’t have to be superhuman to be respected, and the truth is that the overwhelming majority of autistic people are completely ordinary.

When I was diagnosed with autism at age 11, I obsessively searched the internet for information about autism, to learn what other autistic people experienced, and what “normal” people thought of us. I learned that geniuses were loved, and everyone else was hated. I hoped for years that I would magically develop some kind of incredible talent so I could be like the autistic geniuses in the news. I hoped someone would notice me and enroll me in college early or make me famous so I would be respected for something. It didn’t happen. It wasn’t fair to myself, but when I saw stories about savants, I didn’t feel proud to be autistic. Instead, I saw myself as a failure.

Autistic savants don’t need more representation. Most autistic people, even most of the geniuses and prodigies, will never have the kinds of opportunities that Narset and other famous savants have had. But when neurotypical people have only ever seen autistic savants, they expect you to be a genius. And when people expect you to be a genius, being ordinary just makes you a disappointment.

The Magic narrative team clearly recognized the fact that most allistic peoples’ first exposure to autism is through popular media and that it’s a major influence on the audience’s image of what autism is like. So they tried to make a good first impression by making Narset a positive portrayal, but it backfired in one key way: Narset’s writing in this story was so focused on making her as extraordinary and obviously autistic as possible that it neglected to make her a human being. She’s believable, but not compelling. Narset’s story is about an autistic character, but it’s not really about what it’s like to be autistic.

(And I hate to say it, but… there’s nothing revolutionary about making your Asian autistic character a math genius.)

What frustrates me about the way Narset was written is that I actually believe her autism was extremely under-utilized in her writing.

Autism is lifelong, but I don’t really feel like the story treats it that way. Beyond the first scene of Narset as a younger child, the story doesn’t show how Narset’s autism affected her life other than making her really smart.

Upon realizing that Ojutai had nothing left to teach her, Narset became restless and anxious again. She was desperate to learn anything new. When she was 16 years old, Narset discovered the lost history of Tarkir, and it was the possibility of new knowledge that ignited her Planeswalker spark.

Narset’s greatest challenge was that she was literally so good that she couldn’t get any better.

As a child, Narset was shown to have trouble communicating and interacting with others. After Narset became Ojutai’s student, she’s barely shown interacting with anyone other than Ojutai ever again. How did Narset’s differences affect the way she interacted with her fellow students? Did she want to try to make friends? What happened to her mother? How would she have felt about Narset’s progress? The story doesn’t explore any of this. What about her overwhelming sensory overloads? Did she still have them? If so, did her triggers change? She used to soothe herself by counting and finding patterns. When her anxiety returned later in the story, did her coping mechanisms change or stay the same? This isn’t shown, either.

At the end of The Great Teacher’s Student, Narset was still a teenager, but she’s supposed to be about 50 years old now. We know that the present Narset is an independent autistic adult, who has friends and goals and decades of life experience, and that’s beautiful– but we never get to see how she got there. How did she learn to make friends? How did she decide what she wanted to do with her life? That journey is what I want to see being written for autistic characters.

(Art: Quiet Contemplation - Magali Villeneuve)

To contrast, Narset’s story in the Khans of Tarkir timeline does address these things. In Enlightened, Narset is the narrator, and she speaks personally of her challenges as a young autistic person: her academic struggles as a daydreaming student, her feelings of alienation, being bullied, and how she threw herself into her training to cope. These experiences and feelings carried on into adulthood, and influenced the way she approached her responsibilities as the Jeskai Khan.

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As a young girl, I had the same “problem,” as my teachers called it. I always lived in my head, but not in the way the instructors wished. I dreamt of fantastical worlds and used the scrolls given for lessons to draw them, incurring the wrath of my elders. I found solace in my own mind and often had difficulty knowing how to talk to others. It was as though my mind was always five steps ahead of my mouth. It was so taxing interacting with others. I never knew what to say, often causing me to blunder, and I was embarrassed in front of my teachers and classmates. I then went over those failed interactions in my mind, and I found the imaginary worlds more forgiving.

Studying was a way to escape my anxiety and I eagerly embraced history and philosophy, memorizing all I could about Jeskai teachings. I impressed my teachers, but I still felt like an outsider. I did enjoy sparring with those who had taunted me, easily humiliating them in combat as they had humiliated me with their words.

[…]

Even though I am now their khan, I still felt like an outsider—like the young girl always fumbling her words—only now I don’t show it. I think this has been what gives me the strength to do what is needed, looking at the Jeskai like I am not really a part of them.

[Enlightened - Matt Knicl]

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Overall, I feel like Enlightened was a much more thoughtful story despite being much shorter. Sadly, Tarkir’s time travel plot means that version of Narset no longer exists. We haven’t gotten any stories featuring Narset since 2015, so the version of Narset we saw in The Great Teacher’s Student is the Narset we are stuck with.

I don’t necessarily believe that Narset is “bad” autistic representation. I still love Narset, and she means a lot to me. But Narset’s stories are focused on setting her apart, separating her from other people, and showing that she is too different to be a part of the world around her. In my opinion, Narset deserves better than that, and that is why I believe Narset is not the best autistic representation Magic has to offer.

My next article will be about the autistic representation I wanted to see in Magic. Something a little more down-to-earth. Something I could more easily relate to. And I found that in an unexpected character: Nissa.