#autistic!Jason

[fcthots]

What are his interests? Well he’s autistic and his special interest is ME so

[chaoswiththeprettyspine]

Damian doesn't like wearing hero merch (except nightwing), but he does collect every art supply he finds that has his family's logo on it. Those batman pencils you can find in every corner store? He has like 10. Nightwing themed ballpoint pen? He grabbed it the moment it came out. An off-brand Red Hood pen he saw in a second hand shop? It has red ink, and he corrects his friends homework with it. He even has a Red Robin eraser he found on etsy. Neon colored markers with Signals logo, a black brush set called 'Black Bat Brush Box', or a purple grafity can in the shade 'Spoiler'. It doesn't matter if it's official or not, he has it.

Just artkid Damian collecting his family's merch.

[everwalldigan]

I love the fact that Alfred’s preferred method of communication is through food (if he’s mad at you he’ll make your least favourite food, maybe burn it a little on “accident” and if he’s concerned or proud he’ll make a special favourite etc etc) so that got me thinking… Bruce grew up with that way of communication and since brooding is effectively off the table cause hes always brooding, what would be passive aggressive ways he’ll show that he’s pissed off with somebody?

Bruce: *while handing out comm links he hands Tim the one that is most uncomfortable (it’s a tiny bit bigger in size than the others and He Can Feel It)*

Tim: seriously Bruce? You’re still mad about the Batmobile thing?

Bruce: *brooding intensifies*

Bruce: *giving out areas to patrol and gives dick his least favourite part of Gotham*

Dick: BRUCE PLEASE IVE BEEN PATROLLING THAT AREA FOR WEEKS NOW IM SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKED OFF YOUR “VERY IMPORTANT” DOCUMENTS OK??

Bruce: I’ll give you another area to patrol when my formerly perfectly kept folder is as NEAT AS IT USED TO BE!

Dick: ONLY ONE PAPER GOT A LITTLE DIRT ON IT AND ITS ALL INTELLIGIBLE!

Bruce: YOU CANT EVEN TELL IF ITS AN UPPERCASE i OR A LOWERCASE L ANYMORE! THATS A SECURITY RISK!

Bruce: *handing out protein bars during a quieter night and gives Jason a slightly smushed one*

Jason: *takes it and sighs dramatically* you know, I slept so deeply yesterday that I thought I came back from the dead again but, well, it came with a little less pain and emotional manipulation so I-

Bruce: *scowling so hard his cowl almost breaks, takes the smushed protein bar from Jason and gives him his own perfect one instead*

Jason: *smiles innocently in Alfred’s favourite*

[prlssprfctn]

Continuing my agenda about Bruce and Jason becoming the most annoying and dramatic people after fixing their relationship, and making others roll their eyes, because, come on, we all need that. And because Bruce is as dramatic as others; he kinda technically was inspired by Zorro when becoming Batman, alright? That tells a lot.

Anyway, no thoughts, just Bruce and Jason annoying everyone with being the most melodramatic duo ever.

Jason, appearing in the Batcave out of the sudden, swaying a little: Hey Dick, worried: Hey. Are you okay? You rarely drop by like this... Jason, stopping by Bruce's armchair, dramatically slumping over: I... I came here today, because I lost my last battle... Bruce, who senses his bullshit, but plays along: Oh no, champ, what's wrong? Dick, activating mother-hen: SHOULD WE CALL ALFRED? ARE YOU- Jason, sniffling: Battle... Battle with... Loneliness. Bruce, with a short smile on his face: (theatrically puts Britney's Baby One More Time exactly on "My loneliness is killing me" line) Dick, groaning: YOU BOTH-

Jason, spawning in the middle of the day in WE, behind Bruce's back: Old man, protocol 222. Asap. You have five minutes. Bruce, standing up abruptly: Oh, okay. Bruce, with his stern father voice on: Jason, you are disowned. Jason: Fuck you!!! Tim, who was sitting in the same cabinet, watching as Jason storms off: Excuse me? Bruce: He is either watching some movie or reads a book about daddy issues, so he needs to get into a mood. Please, continue your analysis. Tim: ...What the fuck.

Duke: I was always a little curious... What was your father like? No pressure, you don't need to answer if you don't want to. Jason: Well- Bruce, popping out of nowhere: How come you don't know what kind of father I am? Duke: Oh, no, I meant Jason's biological fa- Bruce, frowning: I am his biological father. Jason, because he is no less shit: Yeah, damn, didn't want to tell others, especially to Damian, since he will freak out... But apparently Bruce had a one-night stand thing with my bio mama. It is kinda a secret. Bruce, very pleased: Yeah. It is a secret... but you can probably say that, considering how alike we look. Jason: (nods) Duke, absolutely believing this shit, because had you seen this fucking family: Oh. Ok. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Jason, beaming: Thanks, dude. That's why you are my favourite.

[timmydraker]

Everyone in the Bat Clan has been noticing something over the years, specially about Tim.

Every so often he will go to do something with his hands or even his entire body, such as swaying or shaking his hands, but always stops himself.

There’s almost this look of annoyance on his face that just barely hides discomfort, but he brushes it off quickly.

Bruce noticed and, thinking about Robin more than anything, offered some kind of fidgeting device to help him stay on task, only for Tim to snap at him for the first time. It was his usual snark or commenting on Bruce’s well being, but a real moment of lashing out.

He decided then not to bother Tim about his clear want to move around it play with something even if it’s just his hands, mainly because he was doing his job well.

Yet, as he starts to really try and be a good parent to his kids and realises that Tim is one of the places he messed up most by basically using him to cope with grief, he decides to ask the rest of the family what they think.

Dick says it could be ADHD and he needs movements, with Barbara backing it up with a few websites in agreement.

Damian says he should mediate and Cass so what agrees but says it probably won’t help someone like Tim that much.

Duke and Steph make up a somewhat chaotic plan of coercing him into telling them what he needs, out of love and somewhat aggressive care.

It’s Jason who just scoffs and says, “It’s stimming, you idiots. He has like, super messed up standards cause of his parents, right? They probably didn’t allow it but he’s got that like, autastic thing.”

Only Jason Todd could say something so smart followed by completely idiocy.

But he is right, very much so. It might also explain why sometimes he seemingly couldn’t handle touch but when he panicked he need to be squeezed as tightly as possible.

Naturally, with a family of emotionally repressed vigilantes, they decide to subtly let him know it’s okay.

Dick is the worst with it, speaking far too loudly about how Autism is okay and how he wants to learn to support autistic kids, while Bruce thinks nodding along to this helps.

Damian just stares at Tim for five minutes before bailing and running away.

When a month passes and Tim seem more like he’s even more ashamed than anything my, Cass smashes her hand on the table at dinner and drags him out of the room to talk to him.

Tim is forced to sit and listen to his sister, who may or may not be his favourite sibling, talk about how he’s not damaged or wrong for needing to stim and move his body. She calls him out on how he is being a hypocrite, for accepting people like Bart and Barbara and and her for their disabilities whether ADHD or something physical but not himself.

Tim wouldn’t have been moved by this if it was anyone else, but never in all the time he’s known her has he heard Cass say so many words in one go nor can see her cry so much. She’s loud when she cries, making up for her silence, but it’s only something any of them have seen twice and that was Bruce and Steph.

He doesn’t just magically accept that he’s neurodivergent, nor does he ever want a title as to what is different about him, but the difference is still noticeable.

A week later him and Dick are watching an episode of their show and something Tim adores, a comic series, is referenced. Instead of what he usually does, that being sitting there as still as he can, he bats his hands around a for a few seconds before pausing and waiting for Dicks reaction.

When Dick beams at him brighter than a sun he continues, smacking the couch and even Dicks arm in his excitement.

A few days later he makes a high pitched noice just to get to an itch in his throat and doesn’t realise that Jason is there, yet when the other responds with the same noice, given a bit deeper, Tim smile. Bruce walks in on them making strange noises at each other in a sort of echo.

It’s months later when it’s his birthday and his family has come together to buy him a new, stupidly expensive camera only to reveal they also added a red light room in the manner for him to print them that they really see how much safer he feels.

He flaps his hands aggressively and jumps in place, rumbling out words that don’t all much and thanking them over and over.

He squeals happily but only has a moment where he looks shamed before Bruce holds out a flat palm for him to smack excitedly.

Later, when he gets overwhelmed and crashes a little, Duke lies on top of him to give him pressure only for Steph to sit on him.

[secretidentie]

Superman and batman have been dating for years. Bruce knows Clark's identity(obv) but since Clark said he likes how down to earth he is, Bruce decides he can't just say he's a billionaire playboy and holds off on revealing his.

At some point Bruce (after immense brooding) decides to just tell Clark but at the last minute backs out and makes himself out to be a normal middle class guy who just works at WE.

Sure he kinda looks like Bruce Wayne but Clark just assumes "celebrity look alike ig" and he's never seen Wayne up close anyway so he doesn't even really consider it. Since Bruce already knows everything about him, Clark decides to take a week off work to visit Bruce's family and get to know them better.

Obviously this sets Bruce into panic mode. He somehow convinces Alfred and the kids to go along with operation-perfect-family and crams them into a middle class home and forbids visits to the manor unless it's an emergency. So Bruce has to keep up this everyman relatable ficade while making sure none of his kids snitch, Clark is trying to get to know his boyfriend better while trying to leave a good impression on his family and the whole batfam learns what it's like to have to share as a family by living in close proximity to each other and they learn more about the lives of the average githamites they protect.

[theaceofarrows]

Dick: Oh my gosh, guys. Bruce took Damian for diagnostic screening and found out he was on the spectrum, too

Tim: Nepotism. Damian is a genetic nepo baby

Jason: Well damn, you right...

[punkeropercyjackson]

Hey full offense but if your excuse for not including Duke as Bruce's son and in Batkids/Batboys/Robins lineups is 'he already has parents' and you 'don't want to erase them',maybe you should consider Duke's parents literally can't take care of him and that you can have multiple parental figures.......and that Bruce and Duke have literally refered to eachother as father and son in the comics and even official arts frame them that way too.Duke was bullied all the time,kicked out of multiple schools,had a hard time making friends and keeping them too,was targeted by the cops AS A MINOR(which he still is!!!!),lost his parents or rather his parents lost their sanity to The Joker and now he's expected to self-rely when older and less good people were given more grace and care than him.I think y'all should drop the respectability politics and just let the black kid have a dad💀If DC stands for 'Disregard Canon',then DC also stands for 'Duke Counts'

[hamiltonandpercyjackson]

rereading heroes of olympus HURTS knowing that nico stayed at chb because he knew that he had friends and then RICK KILLS JASON. HIS FIRST TRUE FRIEND SINCR BIANCA DIED. is nico not allowed to be happy

[coquettemouse]

Jason: sometimes I like to sit where you were sitting after you leave. It smells like you

Leo, flustered: you have a way with words

Piper, flabbergasted: no he doesn't

[chaoswiththeprettyspine]

Damian stole his case file so Tim hid his paintbrushes. Jason is just tired...and a little concerned.

[dirtfullofamnesia]

[worstwolverinesbf]

the batfam as things i and others have said pt 2

jason talking about his death: everyone has bad days, everyone gets blown up sometimes

——-

tim: dad, how old are you?

bruce: old enough

——-

dick: the moon is in a phase

tim: what is it, emo?

——-

jason talking about tims mental state: its being held together with zip ties and a dream

——-

steph when a bat appears: i hate when men do that… appear out of thin air

——-

bruce, deadpan: i was gonna say who has a mobile number (police number) but it’s the police

——-

tim talking about wifi: it keeps dropping out

jason: of high school?

——-

bruce: are you on something?

little dick: FREEDOM

——-

tim after scrolling on tumblr for too long: teenagers relate to murder

——-

dick after fighting slade too many times: he’s always down to kill kids and i respect that

——-

pt 1

[timmydraker]

CW: use of R word

Tim who, as much as he doesn’t want it to be true, is a poster boy for typical Neurodivergence. He’s more logically thinking that emotionally and needs obvious signs of someone’s emotional state that he can put together to understand how he should respond to help them.

But that’s not what bothers him because that doesn’t bother his parents.

Instead it’s his passion, though not in technology and detective work as they quickly found use for that in their business, but for bugs.

Ever since he was a kid Tim has been enamoured by insects and arachnids and even fungi. He would only read books that talked about bugs or had one on the cover, but since it helped him learn to read at a steady pace his parents didn’t mind.

At least, not at first.

When Tim got into coding just so he could make his own little web-journal for all his bug finds, they were happy he was learning how to organise and structure at just six years old, but when he only did those things regarding bugs…

Tim had his first panic attack when he watched his father pick up his terrarium filled with Diapheromera Femorata (Stick bugs) and chucked it into the bin. The glass shattered as the corner his something hard and he was forced to watch his bugs struggle to navigate the glass and rubbish, most of them injured.

His mother had gagged when she saw them and demanded the whole bin be burnt with the bugs still inside.

Tim had been so heart broken, but mostly confused. His parents traveled the world to dig up dirt and old items that were mostly the same yet they didn’t like bugs?

When he asked one his Nanny’s she gave him an answer that he would never forget, “Well, you see… only those people like bugs, y’know? The… special ones, like re-“

Tim never even let himself think of the last word she spoke and from then only forced himself to only focus on his computer work. He still loved photography but now he took photos of skylines and trees, not the beautiful beehive a few yards behind his house or the spider webs that sat between branches like art works. He took photos of Batman and Robin and for a long time that was enough to make his longing bearable.

If he still followed several pages and articles about bugs either a secret email account, that didn’t matter.

His parents were happy with him even if they still made remarks about his ‘stupid little fixation’.

It’s when they are going over the paper work for Bruce to be Tim’s legal guardian while they weren’t home with Tim’s older brothers hanging around as moral support (bodyguards) that his parents mock him.

Janet is signing some paper with a stupidly expensive pen and chatting to no one in particular when she says, “You’re all lucky we killed this nasty little bugs of his so you don’t have to deal with them.”

Everyone else in the room freezes, beside Jack who huffs a laugh and adds, “Good thing we did, he’d probably be more of a retard otherwise- talking about ‘habitats’ and bloody spiders.”

All of the members of the Wayne family are dead quiet as Tim sits there with a clear look of disassociation coming into his eyes. Alfred has a calm look on his face that tells all who know him that he’s furious and Bruce is strikingly similar.

Jason looks ready to attack and Dick isn’t even moving to stop his brother or calm anyone down.

Damian is holding onto Titus’s collar like a lifeline but seems to give the hound some kind of silent order as the usually calm dog begins to growl low and dangerous.

Jack and Janet tense and stare at both dog and master, Jack ordering him to control his dog.

Bruce stands, letting Titus growl and taking the half signed papers and throwing them in the bin, “I changed my mind, I will be taking you to court for full custody of my son. Leave my house now so I may obtain a restraining order.”

Janet genuinely flounders for a moment and begins to shout about outrage and audacity but when Dick sees that Tim is starting to cry he stands up and reminds them that he is a cop before moving to pick up his second youngest brother and leaving the room.

Tim doesn’t hear much else, only muffled shouting and the sound of a door slamming.

He distantly realises he’s in the family room, not the one they use to have guest but the real one with beanbags and a snack draw, and is being cradled by his brothers. Even Damian is beside him, holding onto his hand tightly as they wait for Bruce and Alfred.

Tim sobs into Dicks chest for Alamos a whole hour before settling more, Bruce coming into the room and Jason and Dick reluctantly hand him over to he can be held by their father.

“Tim, chum, it’s alright. We’ve got you.”

The boy in question shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t talk about the bugs I promise-“

Bruce squeezes him tighter and kisses his head, “I don’t want that. What I want is to hear about your bugs.”

Stunned, Tim looks up at him with confusion and barely gets his mouth to move enough to ask what he means.

Dick coos from beside him on the next couch and runs a hand through his hair lovingly, “My sweet baby brother we love you, and you love bugs! So of course we want to hear about it. I’m so sorry we didn’t know how they had been treating you but it was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you, I swear it.”

Tim sniffled, nodding absentmindedly. They gave him a moment for their words to sink in before Damian spoke up, “Timothy, I demand you tell me about your bugs.”

Jason makes a noise and elbows Damian as if to tell him to shut up, probably thinking the other was being rude, but Tim knows his brother well and just smiles. “I can do that, Dami. I… I don’t think you’ll be very interested though.”

Damian scoffs, “I will ignore that statement as it implies I would waste my time with something I don’t care for.”

Bruce smiles at his youngest and holds Tim’s hand, “I agree. Could you maybe tell us about why you like them? Or your favourites?”

It takes him a moment to respond, but when he looks at all their open expressions and gets an encouraging nod from Alfred, he stutters out a response before gradually gaining confidence as they ask genuine questions to his facts and descriptions.

They each make an effort to ask him about bugs, Jason asking a few times if he wants to check out some books that he knows use bugs as symbolism’s and Dick asking if he can tell him the difference between insects and arachnids several times. Damian and Bruce are both a bit more subtle with their support at first, but after a month Tim enters his room to find a giant terrarium with several different sections so he can have multiple bugs that might not get along with each other.

Bruce and Alfred don’t even make any comments or give disapproving looks when Dick and Jason reveal they each got a tattoo of the bug that Tim said he associates with them.

[aurantiumred]

jason should be allowed to nibble on his friends. he's just a little guy starting to unmask. chomp! he doesn't bite hard enough to draw blood or hurt don't worry. he also has stupidly sharp teeth.

he's like a dog he gets random moments with uncontrollable amounts of energy and before he just paced and now he runs circles in the backyard at full speed. leo made the fence rounded so he doesn't bang into it and hurt himself while bounding from one end to another. jason zoomies.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Step One: A Question

———

The thing about vitakinesis is that it is intensely difficult, if not impossible, to perform on oneself.

There is a kind of separation between the conscious and unconscious mind, you see. The body, constantly sending signals, communicates mostly with the unconscious brain. The unconscious brain could even, honestly, be argued to perform the vast majority in function to keep the body alive. Very rarely are you aware that your heart is beating. Rarer still do you know your stomach acid boils food down to molecules. And never, do you notice, the split and pull of your cells.

The body is a very busy thing. And the unconscious mind is very good at taking that information, processing it, and storing it in the appropriate filing cabinets. A pinnacle of administrative excellence. The conscious mind is really only barely aware of what’s going on — not unlike most straight men. It certainly thinks it is in charge, but really can only handle so much before it cracks and rages and spirals down into a hole of despair fixed mainly by binge drinking and stress-induced amnesia.

All this to say that when Will places his hand gently on the strongest pulse point of his patients, he takes that grand, endless flow of informative signals from the body of another and interprets them in his own conscious mind. While certainly an overwhelming process to learn, it has become over time something like reading — unbelievably difficult in nuance to learn in infancy, but second nature in constant practice. His unconscious mind works merrily away on his own body, filling up those filing cabinets. His conscious mind flicks over someone else’s files before they’re tucked away. Simple.

The difficultly comes in when trying to decipher his own files. For all the ease in reading someone else’s, his own are tucked away — since his body, conscious mind, and unconscious mind are all connected, he cannot simply dip into a stream of information and filter out what he needs. He has to detangle all that shit. And anyone who has ever taken a brush to a pile of curly hair can tell you — that shit is hard! Honestly, impossible. He has no idea what’s going on in his own body other than it’s probably not bad.

Thank the gods for Gracie, or else he never would have gotten the chance to find out.

“It’s like grabbing fish from a moving river,” he tries, having never fished even one time in his life. Gracie looks at him with wide, nervous eyes. “A little noisy. A little scary. A little maybe-you-fall-in-and-drown-y. But mostly, you just gotta chill out and grab the first little fish that pops out at you.”

“I don’t want to drown,” worries Gracie, hunching even farther into herself, and wow, in hindsight, Will needs to work on his brain to mouth filter. Any word choice would have been better.

He pats her on the head. “Nah, kiddo, you’ll be fine. You healed that little bunny yesterday, remember?”

Instantly, the fear melts off her face, replaced with her narrowed eyes and scrunched up little nine-year-old nose. Gods, Will wants to squish her. She’s so godsdamn cute. Who authorized that? She certainly didn’t get it from their father.

“Damien should not have kicked it, even if it chewed up his underwear.”

“Yes. And then you did a great job healing the bruise you left on his nose. See? You can do this. You’re just all in your head.”

HA. There. Will can be normal. He just needs a second try.

Finally, she agrees, hesitantly reaching out her hand and wrapping it around Will’s elbow. He squeezes her free hand encouragingly, breathing through the little twinge in his chest as his body remembers the last time he did this, hand over Lee’s elbow, searching for his nod of approval.

“You got this, squirt. Close your eyes. Breathe out. Listen to the rush of the water, and when it’s not so loud, grab the first fish you see.”

Gracie closes her eyes, breathing slowly and leaning ever so slightly forward as a rush of information buzzes through her softly glowing hands. She scrunches her forehead, hands tightening — for her sake, Will tries to make his own vitals easier to read, but remembers quickly he has no way of doing that and abandons the idea — and twists her mouth the way she does when someone says something stupid at dinner and everything gets a little chaotic. Sweat beads on her forehead.

Will holds his breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Her eyes fly open.

“Your heart rate went from 60 BPM to 90! I felt it!”

“Awesome!” he exclaims, holding up his hand for a high-five. “You got that fish right from the tail!”

Lord, he needs a new metaphor.

Regardless, the fear has completely fallen off Gracie’s frame. She bounces on the tips of her sparkly light-up sneakers, braids flopping all over the place.

“Again! Again! I wanna see if I can get your glucose levels!”

He snorts. “Knock yourself out, kid.” He blinks. “Or, well, maybe stop one step before that. Here. Have a Kit-Kat bar.”

She takes it, likely more because it’s chocolate and she’s nine than for its restoration abilities, but regardless. He sits back in his chair, reaching over for his clipboard and lazily running through some paperwork as she digs her nails into the crook of his elbow, cheering every time she gets a new reading.

“Your glucose reading is average!”

“Dope.”

“Your respiratory rate is within the expected range!”

“Love to hear it.”

“Your blood pressure has an abnormally high reading at 140 over 90!”

“That would be your older sister’s fault.”

So on and so forth. He keeps an eye on the time — from his own experience he knows that she can do fifteen, maybe twenty minutes of this before she hits the ground, and he would like to learn from Lee’s mistakes and stop her at fourteen — but mostly lets himself space out and his sister go ham. Absentmindedly, he watches her wide, missing-teeth grin, her fluttering hands, her bright green eyes. He can’t hold back a smile and wouldn’t anyway. He’s so freaking pumped to have another nerd in the house.

At the ten minute mark, he starts tuning back in, tapping her shoulder.

“Two more minutes,” he warns.

She pouts. “Aw. I wanted to see if I could find out what you had for lunch based on your blood sugar levels.”

“Girl, you were there.”

“Still!”

“Just — fill out this chart. Height, weight, resting heart rate, things like that. Practice.”

She does, scrawling it out in print worse than his — a little doctor in the making, he is going to melt — and more, flipping the page over to record every bit of information she gleaned from checking it over. He finds himself peeking over her shoulder, tilting his head in curiosity. Huh. His red blood cell count is a little high. He didn’t know that.

He never gets to know any of his stats. Chiron always says something about his obsessive anxiety disorder and some of the worst ADHD impulse decisions he has ever seen, blah blah blah. As if. He’s pretty much almost kind of sixteen years old. Geriatric, as far as demigods go. So it’s fine. He can find out. Plus, Chiron is a big fat exaggerater. So.

The timer on his watch beeps.

“One more minute,” Gracie begs. “I want to know how much water you have in you.”

The gears in Will’s brain don’t even turn. They spin like a test tube in a centrifuge.

“Not sure that’s entirely medically relevant,” Will says absentmindedly, and the faintest itch starts tickling the back of his throat, as if his infernal and nonsensical allergy is calculating the percent truth level in his words. The brain gears spin faster.

Now.

He’s not taking his own vitals. So. Technically, he is not breaking any rules. He’s not trying to steal his medical file from the Big House again. He’s not following Kayla around stretching out pleeeeeeeaaaaasse until she snaps, loses her shit, and shoots him in the shoulders. In all honesty, he didn’t even ask for all this. It just happened, really, it’s fate, and who is he to tempt Fate?

(Now. Is it unethical to maybe kinda sorta lightly manipulate his baby sister into letting him make questionable (but interesting!) medical experiments.

Perhaps.

But, honestly, so is training her in the medical arts at nine years old, so. Penny, pound, et cetera.)

He checks his watch. Time is up.

“Okay,” he says, gently peeling his sister’s hand off his elbow and holding it, steadying her as she sways a little (he checks. She is fine. All is well and mostly ethical). Her whining makes the corners of his mouth twitch. “Write down what you learned, okay? We can practice again another day.”

Gracie pouts. “Fine.”

She scribbles down everything she can remember, far out-writing the chart’s answer boxes, then dashes off (after several Kit-Kats and also an apple, ‘cus Will’s healthy like that) to play. Will waits a heroic seven seconds before snatching the paper up and reading it with more care and interest than he’s ever read anything in his life.

“Oh ho ho ho,” he mutters to himself, well aware he sounds like a villain in an eighties cartoon and choosing to ignore it, “oh, the things I can do…”

Not all of it is new information. Height. Weight. Vibe (which is not part of the chart, but he appreciates Gracie’s rating of ‘pretty solid’ regardless). Resting heart rate (average). Blood pressure (bad).

But GCI. Red blood cell count. Total water content, gods above.

The gears finally slow to a stop. A question floats to the very forefront of his mind, in Times New Roman, 12 point, stark black. The Mrs. Rightman in his head cheers.

He carefully folds the paper. He sticks it in his lab coat pocket. He grins.

And he runs to find the one person in camp who can help him with phase two.

———

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