#when i got my autism diagnosis i thought oh good okay so THIS is why im such a freak
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feels like the isolation is a gushing wound and going to the centre is just a small bandage. i think perhaps i am not really ever going to feel okay unless something miraculous happens. i am retaining some semblance of sanity now that I'm leaving the house and socializing with non-family more than once a week, but i am still hurting more than I can really tolerate and I don't know what to do about it. there doesn't seem to be a fix for this that I can enact.
#part of me wonders if going to the centre is helping or hurting more#but i think it's definitely helping more. however it is definitely also hurting/making some things worse#i just wish I could be operating at the same level as most of society#and i feel so egotistical when I talk abt this#but like. why am i always so fucking aware of every single thing going on#and everyone else is just painfully oblivious#I AM USING HYPERBOLE. ITS NOT EVERYONE. i know im not the only person ever lmao#when i got my autism diagnosis i thought oh good okay so THIS is why im such a freak#and now I've met so many other autistic ppl irl and um. no. no thats definitely not it still.#yes its probably part of it but im also just. so fucking traumatized i guess idk. i hate this so much#i just want to be the same and fit in and not be analyzing everything and be able to actually speak my mind#and not be so kind and polite and respectful all the time and be able to say shitty stupid things without thinking anything of it#im so tired of being the only one who seems to care so much about everyone else's comfort and feelings#but also at the same time i would hate if i acted like everyone else bc i know how shitty it makes people feel#and people are always so happy to see me because I am useful and make them feel good and comfortable and heard#and that matters. that means a lot to people i think. but also I am not a person. i am a tool.#and I'd really like to be a person#i somehow feel like im operating at a higher level/awareness than almost everyone irl and also way below everyone at the same time#like im so hyperaware of everyone else more than most ppl but im also so socially inept sometimes. and just... idk how to be a person.#i dont know i just want to not be like this. its so lonely and tiring and i want to matter to people#i want them to like me for more than just what I'm able to do for them. I want to be liked for Me i guess. but Me isnt likeable maybe#Me is uncomfortable for people. Me is a trembling cornered prey animal with a longing to tell stories but is too afraid to do anything#and so Me just exists in a hollow shell made out of people-pleasing and fawning and mirroring everyone around them#and then i get lonelier and more isolated and nothing really changes. but every time i try to crack open the shell a little it goes badly#like i genuinely dont think its my paranoia. i think it is not Safe for Me to exist properly.#i am too sensitive probably! but it does very much feel like a raw wound that peope jab aggressively at when i open up a little!#boy howdy i sound like such a wuss. i mean i probably am one fjfkdl#i just feel like I keep trying to fix things and improve and try new things and nothing ever really works well#my counsellors have always commented on how impressed they are at my willingness to try things#and its like ?? yeah ! ofc i am going to try things! maybe that will be smth that finally helps!
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staff meeting
this is a drabble i wrote ages ago but wanted to post publicly to link in my oc archive.
the following conversation is between Stella Halliday and other staff members. to keep is easier to read, anything Stella says will be in bold
s: “alright, something else i wanted to bring up, we got a new brand kid registered for the new season. Bleach Annaki”
“annaki?”
“isnt that the lethal kid?”
“what’s he doing here?”
“can he even register here? thought he was an academy student”
“he’s been AWOL for like 5 months!
s: “quiet. let me talk. he registered a few days ago and is planning on starting up in the next season. i went through his file last night. it’s long.”
“doesn’t surprise me, brand kid and all”
“yeah that kids a machine”
s: “apparently he moved in with his brother. after looking at his file i have some guesses as to why, but i’ll keep that to myself. what i do what to discuss about him, well- okay who has questions first”
“how is he registered here? he’s an academy student.”
s: “says he dropped out of school and his team 4 months ago. didn’t graduate. no further information on that”
“we don’t know why?”
s: “he definitely got injured. he’s got… quite the medical history. chronic illness, ink sac deformity, lot of random injures over the years, and specifically, a 2 month long hospital admission, directly following when he dropped out”
“holy mackerel”
“good god”
“poor guy”
s: “yeah. besides autism, there’s nothing noted as diagnosis’, but he clearly has some trouble handling emotions, and with all the stuff he’s been through, wouldn’t shock me if he had a good amount of trauma”
“oh for sure. brand kids get pushed hard. i used to follow his plays for a while, his dad is harsh. like, really harsh. Nic Annaki”
“i forgot thats his dad”
“who’s that?”
“you don’t know nic annaki?”
s: “nic annaki was the greatest player of his generation and currently is the coach of the annaki professional team. he funds a heavy amount of money into freshwater academy and the inkopolis anarchy industry as a whole”
“yeah, that kids definitely fucked up”
s: “so. i’d like to discuss a support plan for him. he’s in S to start but i can’t imagine it’ll take him long to climb the leaderboards. his brother, Perri, stopped by to talk with one of the nurses and give them some more info on his health the other day. he needs to be monitored on if he’s drying out”
“dry out?”
“you’ll know it when you see him, ends of his tentacles are white. permanent damage”
“how do you know that?”
“like i said. i kept up with him for a while”
s: “yes. for now he’s got a limit of playing 2 full rotations a day, which i’ve been told will get bumped up and up over time. he’s still recovering from… whatever it was”
“we’ll let the spectators know to have someone check in with him after every few games. keep an eye out for droughting”
“does he got one of those tube things? he’ll probably have a custom ink tank, gotta get that approved through mechanics”
they spend a bit longer writing down notes for what might need to be in bleach’s plan, reviewing his file as a group, and sending information where it needs to be sent.
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You mentioned in a post that you joined the eddsworld 5 years ago, how did you find about this hellhole?
Well, next month it'll be 6 years since I've joined the eddsworld fandom.
When I was oh but a young lad I basically was always the weird kid because I enjoyed to be online rather than to socialize with people around me because I couldn't comprehend relationships (turns out it was autism but okay. Also, I got diagnosed with autism like 4 months before joining the fandom but okayyy) so I actually had seen some eddsworld content before (mostly through Tomska because that man raised me) but like I never jumped into it simply because I didn't feel like it.
In 2018 I had to move schools due to bullying and segregation (getting an autism diagnosis while studying in a very conservative christian school ain't a good idea) so I was in a new school and wasn't doing very well and it was sixth grade and honestly I was miserable af. Due to that I spent most of my time at the school's nurse or counselor office to avoid the noise and beatings during recess.
Well, there I would meet three gals who would become my first ever friends, we bonded over all of us being weird in our own way (turns out the four of us have autism) and we became very close.
On the 23th of August 2018 I was with high fever, I had gotten really sick but had exams so I had to assist school anyways, I entered the counselor's office and there the three of them were huddled watching something. I asked what they were watching and they told me it was eddsworld and that I should watch it.
I decided yeah sure why not and those three bastards showed me the end part fucking 2 as the first eddisode.
Like dude I did not understand a SINGLE FUCKING THING BUT I LIKED IT, like, I liked the animation, the characters (specially Tom, the moment I saw those eyes my brain activated and all I thought was omg 2D from Gorillaz) and all, so after that I started watching the series on my own.
I created my first ever eddsworld drawing that same day! While sweating profusely and sneezing so much I couldn't breath at times.
I was so fucking proud of this badboi.
I really got obsessed over eddsworld, to the point of me learning fluent English so I could read fanfiction about it, it didn't help that right after my birthday (about 4 days after finding out about eddsworld) I got even sicker so I had to rest for two entire weeks because I had a pneumonia or smt IDR... So basically I was bedridden so I used up all of that time to watch eddsworld, read fanfics and browse fanart.
That's also when I found out about Tumblr.
Honestly I'm glad I found out about eddsworld when I did because before I did I was so depressed I actually was planning to unalive myself at Halloween cuz it was my favorite Holliday but eddsworld gave me a reason to continue and thrive so in a way I... Owe my life to this stupid show.
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In the past couple weeks I've gone from "I guess I have some autistic traits but there's so much overlap with ADHD and PTSD etc, it doesn't really matter" to "I'm convinced I have autism, and that my mom and sister (the one who was also born of mom) do too, and it explains so much!!!"
A few pieces just clicked into place all of a sudden. Seeing more ways in which I am similar to my autistic son. And reading some comment on r/raisedbynarcissists saying "undiagnosed autism and ADHD can turn into personality disorders later" and being like "that can't be true and makes no sense" - but then I ran it by BFF and she said "it's a good theory - a major factor in developing a personality disorder is having your needs unmet as a child, and that's something that commonly happens to undiagnosed/misunderstood neurodiverse kids."
I started thinking about how my personality-disordered mom (and all her siblings) were FOR SURE neglected as kids (always good to be ambivalent towards children and then have seven of them! Go Catholicism). My mom's stories about herself as a kid always cast her as a weird outcast loner (some of which was exacerbated by her mom's rules - like, her mom couldn't be washing laundry for 9 people changing clothes every day, so my mom and her siblings had school clothes and play clothes, and it was expected that, barring some major stain, they'd wear one set of school clothes for a whole week - but other kids will notice and tease you if you seem to always wear the same clothes!!). She had one particular story, about these imaginary creatures that she invented, and felt like she could see them and commune with them. They were called Beesies, and she would have to crouch down to be able to talk to them, and her parents were unkind about seeing her crouching and talking nonsense to things that weren't there. So, I think that speaks powerfully to both the neglect/loneliness, and perhaps the vivid fantasy life of an autistic person.
When I was in my 20s, my mom got diagnosed with ADD, and at the time I was very dismissive. I thought she had just scammed her way into a diagnosis so she could get adderall and use/abuse it for its appetite suppressant effects. But now I'm like, "no, she was thrilled about that side effect, but I think she did actually have ADD...and quite possibly autism, and actually I think I have both of those too."
Then last piece of this (sister piece) came into focus on 4th of July. I told my sister BYOB cause I'm off booze hopefully for good. She sent an oddly formal reply - something like "I know it's generally considered poor form and overly personal to ask someone why they're not drinking, but can I ask you anyway?" I thought, "okay, what in the rigidly-defined-communication-rules hell?!" I just said "hey you're my sister, you can ask stuff like that!" and then explained why. (Oh and there's a whole other post I could write about all three of us probably using alcohol to cope/mask symptoms...BUT ANYWAY). So then, during 4th of July, my stepdad/her dad tells this story about her as a kid, at one of her birthday parties, where he had set up pin the tail on the donkey for the kids to play, and my sister apparently just DID NOT get it - "why would I wear a blindfold to try to find out where to put the tail? I already know where to put the tail." And then people were trying to explain it to her - "see, it's funny, cause when you can't see, you put the tail somewhere else"...etc. And apparently she said, "why would it be funny to be wrong?" I either hadn't been at this party or didn't remember it, so hearing that was a real eureka moment - OH MY GOD, we're all fucking autistic!!
Oh also, she was a very serious baby who appeared to be puzzled or frowning often, and didn't really laugh, and we all just thought this was funny at the time...omg, more signs!
So anyway, this is totally recasting my thought about my sister's lack of emotional expansiveness, and how I am always getting my feelings hurt by it! We are possibly both autistic people, each with marked, but different and sometimes even conflicting, communication difficulties. No wonder there are so many misunderstandings and unsatisfied expectations, etc.
IDK I have so many more thoughts and memories I'm recontextualizing, I could go on, but in any case I'm very eager for my therapist to return from vacation in a couple weeks so we can discuss!!
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Shit they don’t tell you about Autism/Aspergers
Well, I’ve been learning more and more about different signs of being neurodiverse and I thought I’d put my own experiences here just in case it might be able to help someone else understand their diagnosis or themselves better. If you feel you have Autism, please speak to your GP or doctor to be able to talk to a professional because like all things, self diagnosing isn’t a good idea, ya feel me. - Let’s talk clothing b. Yes, so basically Autistics like to dress more comfortable, probably hate things like tags (I used to cut them off) and might only wear certain fabrics. Some people might wear certain colours only as well. Although, the general thing is that Autistics “aren’t expressive” you’ll find a lot of Autistics are and that might be reflected through their alternative clothing choices. Another thing is you might have very sensitive skin, washing powder can cause rashes and itchiness, you might not even be able to use soap. - Hair. Hair is so gross. So basically you might feel that having your hair in your face is so annoying. Ever since I was little I always remember just tying my hair up and leaving it like that. Wanting short hair to avoid it touching your face because of sensory issues. Although, you might like to have it coloured and expressive you might struggle to have your hair down because it just feels so gross. In relation to hair when washing it you might hate the sensation of shampoo and water and all that. - Although, being very monotone is a sign of Autism being very expressive is also a sign. The thing is I feel a lot of Autistic people without the correct support have probably got a diagnosis of depression or anxiety and I feel like that combined with feeling Autistic might make it hard for you to put any energy into things, whereas you know you are a expressive person. Also you probably have hella empathy. I know that is like the opposite of what you hear but seriously, myself and some other people I know with Autism are very empathetic people and feel emotions to an extreme. Although, it might not seem like we feel anything from facial expressions and responses we might be feeling so much it’s just too overwhelming to express it. - Let’s talk acting like a child. Not saying this to dig because I’m the same way, but most people who have Autism might regress into a childlike state which is known as age regressing. It’s usually a coping mechanism to deal with stress but I suppose it could also be triggered by sensory issues? Like I find when I’m really happy I’m very childlike. Oh and you might act younger then you are or be really immature, not always taking things seriously or understanding things. Which is okay and why having a specialist to help support you with the stuff you struggle with is key. - Stim. Stim. Stim. We hear about happy stim, sad stim but honestly you might just stim for every emotion. Also people with Autism might seem like they have tics but they can have vocal stims as well as motor. - Gender is complex right? Yeah I feel you. Feel like you flucuate between genders, have no gender, feel in the middle or might even be trans - although, this is a sensitive topic Autistics actually are more likely to have different relationships with gender due to how we view and feel about the world. So whatever gender you are b, you are valid! - Identity is confusing. The thing is you might feel like you have alters or different versions of yourself as well, which is why Autism is not diagnosed and you might be diagnosed with BPD or like DID. The thing is identity for us is always so confusing and we have such a different relationship about things about ourselves and how we view things. Sometimes it feels like someone were not and sometimes we feel like a different person, but that is okay and valid. - Control as a stress management. Now this is where things like eating disorders can be developed, maybe self destructive behaviours like self harming or perhaps being very toxic to keep everything the way you can because you feel like your life is going out of control. I really do feel you - and that’s why seeing a specialist can help you cope with shitty times like this. But that is a sign. - You have a safe space. Probably your house, your room and you barely leave it. You feel so fucking overwhelmed outside. Too many people, too many noises, too many things going on, which is why Autism can seem like an anxiety disorder but you just feel things very sensitive and can have sensory overload. - If you’re an adult now, probably as a child you were told you were just intelligent and there’s nothing wrong with you. Yep. Same here. Parents tried to get me diagnosed as a young age but they wouldn’t even test me. - For me, I cannot stop listening to music. I express myself through music. I’ll send people songs and tell them to pay attention to the lyrics or the video because it’s how I feel and it’s how I express myself. Some people might do that with art or writing or something they use to express that isn’t vocally with words, people might sing or make songs. There tends to be a creative or different way you express your emotions. - Special interests. They might change throughout your life. I thought you had to have something you were interested in since a kid but they can change and it’s known as hyperfixations! It can be literally anything, and they are valid. You probably hate talking to people if they don’t share one of your hyperfixations because you feel misunderstood or weird or lonely. Doesn’t have to be anything out of the ordinary. - Might blurt out how you feel to people, like having no filter. You like to have deep meaningful relationships and want friends you can talk about your deep routed emotions and dreams with rather then wow there is something on the news. That shit doesn’t interest you at all. - This might be an embarassing one but you might have a lot of issues with going to the toilet (ie. bleeding or runny stools and etc), especially when you’re stressed you might have really bad stomach issues or abdomen issues. That aren’t always explained but are probably stress induced when everything is too much for you, people tend to be more sensitive to those types of things if they’re Autistic due to sensory and sensitivites. - Meltdowns can be shown in crying breakdowns, anger breakdowns, can also be shown as completely shut down and you might experience catatonia, where you struggle to talk or move because you feel so sad, you might get so worked up and might even feel as low as feeling suicidal and might self harm as well when in these meltdowns. - You hate injustice and you probably are an advocate for the mentally ill or disabled. Seeing injustice might actually trigger a meltdown because you want to change things - due to your extreme empathy but you struggle to accept you can’t save the world. - Might have fake friends but as you grow older might cut those people off for using your energy and might end up with having barely any to no friends. Might feel extremely lonely and not understand why people can’t just be nice to you. - Relationships you probably take very seriously, like full on planning marriages when it might just seem like nothing to someone. This can make you prone to abusive relationships and you might not always notice if that person is good for you, no matter what they do you probably try to continue to fix the relationship. Took some notes from p-3a-s-life-resources <3 and personal experience.
#autism#asperger#aspergers#neurodivergent#neurodiverse#shit they dont tell you#signs#mental health#awareness#information#oh heck this is long
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Another autistic rant incoming, buckle up, kids
So let’s talk about why I don’t like the term “high functioning” and why I get extremely upset when people still fucking use it around me even though I’ve told them it upsets me (and many other autistic people):
Being “high functioning” has nothing to do with me. It was everything to do with the NT talking to/about me. It’s about their experience of my autism, not my own. It’s how they experience my existence and completely erases my thoughts and feelings.
“But Misha, you’re so high functioning!”
Am I?
Am I a kitchen appliance? No. Am I your brand new Dyson vacuum? Also no. Stop talking about how functional I am. I’m human. I’m supposed to be alive, be happy, have fun, be a good person. I’m not supposed to be “high functioning”.
“It’s a compliment!”
Is it? Is it really?
Because you “can’t tell” I’m autistic, I’m supposed to be grateful? I spent 26 hellish years on this earth before getting my diagnosis. I wanted to fucking die at several points in my life. So I forced myself to fit in, I cried myself to sleep, I didn’t have a relationship with my parents, I hated every single day of my life and every single thing about myself. But you can’t tell I’m autistic, so I must be good. I must be “high functioning”.
Stop. Calling. Me. High. Functioning. Stop calling autistic people high/low functioning at all. My autism isn’t about YOU. It’s about ME.
What does high functioning even mean? What am I functioning at?
“You know, life.”
Okay, what part of life? Am I functioning well with breathing? Sort of, if you ignore my chronic chest pains. Am I functioning well at living? If you ask the internet, nah, because I’m barely surviving here, lol. So what am I functioning well at?
“The normal stuff. Like you don’t need a lot of help.”
Oh but, dear child, I don’t look like I need help because I am masking. Because I spent 26 years learning how to blend in, you see. How to not be a burden, how to never get yelled at, how to pretend to be like everybody else. You know what that got me? A major depression, suicidal thoughts and anxiety. I also didn’t realize I was trans because I was too busy trying to figure out why life was slowly suffocating me while all my friends were out there having fun. Why it was so easy for them to simply exist, while it was a kill-or-be-killed battle for me.
“You can do all these normal things, though.”
Also, “normal”? Really? So because I can take a shower and express myself vocally most days, I’m ‘high functioning’, while the other autistic guy is ‘low functioning’ because, what? He can’t do “all these normal things”? Again, why the fuck are you even in the equation? Why do you matter at all in my and everyone else’s autism diagnosis?
Stop making it about yourself, damn it. I’m autistic, period. I’m not “a high functioning autistic person”. I’m just autistic. You’re making everybody feel like shit with the high / low functioning. If you’re high functioning, you’re not “autistic enough”, if you’re low functioning, you’re “too autistic”. Shut the fuck up and stop using those damn terms when people tell you to stop.
Where was I going with this? I’m not even sure, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. If you as an autistic person like and/or use these terms? Good for you, you do you, boo, I did too for a while. But if you use them for someone who explicitly told you it hurts them? Stop. That. Shit.
Thank you.
Did something happen to make me upset today? No, it’s just been A Day™️
#autistic things#autistic thoughts#misha rants#tw: ableism#tw: suicide#autism#it was autism awareness day yesterday wasn't it?#I should've maybe posted this then#oh well
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okay @cqcophobiq inspired me to be brave and stop camping out in the tags. I’m a real stream of consciousness kinda gal so hopefully this makes sense and not *too* rambly! Ahem:
🔥🔥🔥AUTISTIC HOBIE RIGHTS 🔥🔥🔥
This makes SO much sense @gutsygremlin! The fact that being cisn't is is very common for neurodivergent people also makes me nod vigously to this post. Hobie Brown is built different. Blackness, queerness, and neurodivergent paint such a specific picture for the type of person you end up being and how you interact with the world.
I got formally peer reviewed and therapist referred for autism like, last week?Also never masked—what you see is what you get. And since I didn’t KNOW something was “wrong” with me, I didn’t realize how bold of a statement I was making by simply being myself. Subconsciously for 25 years I’ve more or less communicated to people “…oh, am i not picking up on cues and making social faux pas? You want me to get back in the kitchen and cook up another personality/demeanor for you? This ain’t build a bitch hoe. What you see is what you get.” And it wasn’t intentional, but makes me a very polarizing person! I really relate to the concept “autistic rizz” (charisma). Tons of it—harder to realize i had symptoms cuz i love people! However, with autistic rizz comes autistic “puls”, (repulsion).
So, brining it back to Hobie being autistic and it’s like…yes he’s already cool but so much cooler cuz even without a diagnosis or peer reviewing, he knew he was polarizing, thought different. I feel like being a tall, darkskinned person with very afrocentric features set him up to be “intimidating” and gawked at WITHOUT the punk aesthetics. This wonderful Tik Tok by Chris Whoa talked about how he felt cosplaying Hobie. He felt empowered because Hobie “doubles down” on taking up space being black and alternative, and that people who would treat him differently/get scared off by his aesthetic aren’t people he needs around him anyway. If him being himself is repulsive, in his own words…”Good.” And to baby autist me that’s SUCH an inspiration like wow 🥺 that said, while we’re talking about masking…people have pointed out that Hobie a lot more animated/upbeat/physically affectionate in his suit whereas with his mask off, he’s more reserved and serious. Huh. Imagine that…
Onto the gender bit: I saw non-binary Hobie a mile away. The fuck does that man looking like adhering to not just gender roles but the concept all around? I think he'd be annoyed at how the term “non-binary” is being treated like a third gender rather than a category, and thus just another label. But in general? Yeah fuck that binary shit.
That said personall, regardless of if he’d define himself as such…I get gender-fluid/genderflux vibes from him. Obviously, you don't need fashion as a way to express gender. But I think Hobie could and would.
He has SO much gender?? Genderful even! Why I love AUs/headcannons/timelines where he has the time/housing stability to have an interest in fashion and makeup and playing with expectations. he's so pretty and handsome like if a man and a woman had a baby 🥰
I wish people stop overemphasizing the one “punk” trait from Hobie…because forcing all of his fashion and music etc to be ONLY punk is not punk and I for one adore the inconsistency he swears by. If we can’t pin down a gender for him how can you pin down a genre you can’t, exactly.
Hobie is such a silly goofy guy tho. Like he’s absolutely the type of queer to, when asked for pronouns or how he identifies, say something like this:
“”Gender?” Y’need me to put a little sticker on m’ forehead of what I am so you can work out what it “means” when y’get an eyeful of all this, yeah? Cute! All you *actually* need to know if that you're into me you are not straight. Yup. Don’t make the rules—don’t believe in them actually. But that rule is the most help you’ll get from me to figure that out. Not my problem l'm universally appealing innit?”
i want some more heavily analytical headcanons of Hobie brown (from black queer ppl)
what are ur thoughts. give them to me
#that was very long lmao#I have so many feelings and interest all the time#it turns out being autistic means I’m just better at my hobbies than other people LMAO#anyway Hobie is an inspiration to me in so many ways but this headcannon hits close to home in the best way ty for sharing 😊#hobie brown#spider punk#across the spiderverse#Hobie brown headcannon#spiderpunk#atsv#spider man across the spider verse
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Billy has to stick up for max a lot because of her autism, at school he walks to her class and their afraid of him because just,,, look at him
warnings for mentions of bullying and ableism.
It isn’t easy to make Maxine Mayfield cry.
At least, Billy had almost never seen her shed a tear in the six years he’d known her but maybe two times: once when she was still little, and just learned her step-family was going to move into her house and replace her real dad forever, and once when she was told they would be leaving California. Both times she’d run off to her room and slammed the door before anyone could see, but Billy had noticed. He always did when it came to Max. Had to when he knew damn well how much trouble he’d be in if things went wrong while he was watching her.
Beyond that there were a few teary eyed looks that got wiped away, maybe a sniffle she’d try to cover up by complaining about her allergies, but it was very rare, even during meltdowns, that she’d be full on crying, tears streaming down her face so quickly she couldn’t wipe them away while sobs wrack through her and make her shake.
So Billy knows first thing that something is very, very wrong when she’s already at his car after school, her face buried in her balled up jacket and doing exactly that. He can hear her from outside the car, so he sighs and knocks on the window before he yanks the door open, but Max doesn’t even flinch, just curls up tighter in the passenger seat and ignores him.
That’s a bad sign too, the fact she isn’t even trying to hide it from him, “What’s a���matter Maxi?”
“None of your business.” She snaps at him, voice thick and wet with tears. It’s unfamiliar seeing her like that and it makes Billy feel tense ang guilt even though he didn’t do it this time, so he tries, “Come on. It totally is my business. You get tears on my leather seats n’the salt’ll stain ‘em up, and you’ll be the one to clean it up.”
All it gets from Max is another heavy sob, instantly hitting him with a pang of regret for trying to be light about this, “Shit. M’sorry, Maxi. Didn’t mean it like that. Just tryin’ ta make you smile.”
“Well it didn’t work!” Max sniffles, throwing her jacket on the dash and finally turning to look at Billy, face flushed red and tracked with tears, her bottom lip still wobbling, “I’ll never ever smile again..”
“Why not? I know it’s not just because of your dumbass brother.” Billy sees a twitch at the corner of her lip, the slightest hint of a smile at him insulting himself, and he counts that as a small win, a sign he’s getting at least a little bit through to Max, so he prompts her again, “What happened at school today, Max?”
Her gaze drops to her lap, and she shrugs her shoulders slightly, stiffly, as she mumbles an explanation, “Remember how I told you about that boy, who's mean to me and my friends?”
“‘Course I do. I never forget anythin’ you tell me.”
Max wipes her nose on her sleeve, and corrects him, “Except for when you forgot I told you I had AV club and you came in the school looking for me and then you got stuck talking to a teacher for like, three hours after I was done.”
“Yeah, well that was one time. N’I was already havin’ a bad day when you told me, thank you very much.” He encourages her, his face serious though their tone is light-hearted, “Keep goin’, what’d this kid do now?”
Again Max’s features close off, and she tries to lie, “He was just.. Well it was my fault.. I-I don’t know.”
“Max. I need the truth.”
Talking fast, like she’s fighting against her thoughts, she makes him promise, “Promise me you won’t do anything dumb, first.”
Billy lifts a hand from the steering wheel, “I won’t. Cross my heart, Maxi.”
At this point, in the silence that builds while Max wills herself to speak, Billy starts to drive, since it’s clear he won’t be going back into that school. It isn’t lost on him the way Max takes a deep breath, out of relief that he meant it when he said he wasn’t going to be dumb and march back in there.
Quickly, once she’s ready, she explains, “Okay. Well he kinda sort of told me that I was annoying ‘cause I laugh too much, and I told him it was just a stim n’that I couldn’t help it but he said that made me a baby and I told him I wasn’t and he called me a retard instead and I was already stressed so I started crying like a dumb baby and he laughed at me and none of my friends said anything or helped me and I just.. yeah.”
All Billy can do is raise his eyebrows, has about a hundred and one pissy and angry things he could say, but he doesn’t utter a word, because he doesn’t want to make Max more upset than she already is.
Clearly just the change in his expression spooks her though, because she insists, sounding like she could cry again at any second, “You promised me!”
He puts his hands up sort of defensively, though he has to grab the wheel again when the car veers, swallowing his anger to tell her calmly, “I didn’t even say anything. I promised I’d be nice and I’m gonna keep that promise.”
She nods hesitantly, more to show trust than agreement, so Billy continues, “But Maxi that’s.. bad. Why don’t you tell a teacher or some shit?”
“Yeah, like they would even do anything. They already hate me for being in their coed classes.” Max mumbles the last part, looking away, “They’d probably rather Troy beat me up so I wouldn’t be bothering them anymore.”
“Tell me you’re being dramatic.”
But Max just shrugs again.
“Fuck, I hate this fucking place.” Billy tears his eyes from the road to look Max in the eyes as she says it, even knowing she can’t return the gesture, “You know you don’t deserve to go through this shit, Maxi?”
“It.. is kinda my fault though.”
He lashes out, just a little, hearing her talk like that about herself. Because it’s not fair that a thirteen year old girl looks at herself that way, yeah, but also because he knows it’s in some ways his fault too, and their parents for the way she’d been brought up, and the shit she'd been around that she even thinks to say shit like that.
He hits the palm of his hand against the rim of his steering wheel, rather he goes to before he catches himself, slowing it before it really hits, tapping it more than anything, “No the fuck it isn’t. It’s nobody’s fault but the assholes that make it into a problem. And fucking Neil’s for dragging us to this close-minded little spot on the map. I hate this fucking town”
“Oh.” Is all Max says.
Billy waits, but he can see she doesn’t know what else to say, so he sighs, “Look, I made my promise to you. Can you make one for me now?”
Max looks confused, “Okay?”
“Promise me that the next time somebody says some shit to you, you stand up for yourself.” Max scrunches up her face, like she immediately disagrees with that, but Billy insists, “Look, I don’t care if you’re crying like a damn baby or you can’t even talk while you do it, just don’t let ‘em walk all over you like that again.”
“I’m not fighting anyone, Billy. I’m not.. like you.”
“That’s not what I said. I said to stand up for yourself. It’s different.”
“Yeah right. How am I supposed to do that?” Billy knows that some asshole had to have said that to Max, that for whatever bullshit reason she couldn’t stick up for herself. Damn kid can’t catch a break in life, so he tells her, at this point not sure if this is even advice or just him ranting at Max, “This kid calls you a slur again, tell ‘im at least you got the diagnosis. Make him feel like he’s the stupid one. And if a teacher ever pulls some shit about the way you learn, tell ‘em you’ll go to the board of education and personally get their asses fired. Your mom would fight for you.”
“No she wouldn’t.”
“Then dammit I would. Your friends would if they understood. I know Sinclair would kick ass for you.”
Max’s toughness finally cracks- she learned that from him, to put on that hard exterior and fake it- Billy's determination stronger than her stubbornness. She looks up at him with a look in her eye that says he’s said all the right things, “You really think so?”
“No shit. Big brothers know all about this kind of bull.”
“I guess.” Max smiles just a little, and tells him matter-of-factly, “But you’re not that kind of big brother. You’re too cool.”
“Hell yeah I am.” Billy hums proudly, adding with humor in his tone, “But it’s even more cool to be nice to your little sister than it is to be an asshole. Remember that one.”
Max nods, listing it off on her fingers, “Stand up for myself, but don’t be an asshole, and Billy's secretly a big softie. I think I got it.”
“Good. Now out of my car, shitbird.”
Giggling in that way that says she knows she got him, Max swings open her door and runs into the house, leaving Billy to watch after her. He turns off the car but doesn’t get out, trying to bury his worry for her under his expression, not because he didn’t care, or even because he didn’t want her to know, he was long past that, but because he was worried what would happen if Susan saw his concern.
She’d weasel the truth out of Max if she knew something was up, and somehow, despite her promises, Neil would find out once he dragged his ass back home from the bar later tonight, and then it would somehow be Billy’s fault. He just hopes, if Max lets slip about the bullying, she at least doesn’t get too mouthy and mention the part where she was crying.
That was a Friday when that all went down, so Billy has the weekend, which thankfully does not include any snitching, to decide what he’s going to do about it. It’s not like he was ever going to go beat up on any tweens anyways, but he promised Max he wouldn’t be dumb, and he knew that meant no passive aggressive bullshit either. At least not while she could see him.
Because that ruled out like, half of his options, he’s still kind of clueless on what he’s going to do that next Monday morning when schools back in. He’s sitting in the middle school parking lot, fingers twitching against the steering wheel without a cigarette to busy them with, waiting for 7:30 on the dot when Max always goes in.
At this point, he’s considering just ditching with her to go get ice cream or something so she doesn’t have to face any bullies today, but his epiphany comes in the form of watching Jonathan Byers walk the littler one all the way to the front doors, his hand protectively hooked through the handle on the kid’s backpack. When the clock ticks the right time and Max opens her door, he knows what he’s going to do, and he turns the car off.
She freezes, can tell he’s up to something. “What are you doing?”
“Nothin’. M’just walking you in.” She glares at him in response to the smug smile he wears, so he swears, “Honest. I got basketball today. No way I’m missing that shit ‘cause I fought some little kid.”
“You’re lying.”
“Can’t I just be nice to my little sister?”
From the look on her face, she’s still skeptical, but it's enough to get Max to agree to it, grabbing her bag from the backseat and mumbling, “Whatever. Just don’t embarrass me.”
Billy chuckles, giving Max a head start towards the building before he follows, “Hey now, I thought just yesterday I was your cool older brother.”
“Cool older brothers don’t walk their sisters to the door.” She calls it over her shoulder, and Billy can’t help but tease her more, correcting her in a sing-songy voice, “Who said I was stoppin’ at the door? I’m walking you all the way to your class.”
“Oh god.” Max stops walking, but Billy keeps up, this time pulling ahead enough to call back to her, “Come on shitbird. Don’t wanna be late.”
“I hate you so much.”
“Yeah, right. You love that I would take the time outta my morning to do this for you.” He props open the door for Max with his boot, pretending not to notice the way all the little middle school kids at their lockers turn to gawk at them, letting her shove past him with her face flushed deeper than the color of her hair in embarrassment.
Pulling on her backpack straps, like she’s trying to physically make herself smaller, she mumbles, “No, I actually hate you.”
He almost feels bad for embarrassing her, but that’s the other part of his job, and he reminds her of that, “Good. There’s some more advice for ya, little sisters should always hate their big brothers, or he’s doing something wrong.”
They get a little ways down the hall, Max’s confidence going up just some as the shock wears off and people start to turn away, but Billy hardly notices. He doesn’t even come close to being bothered by eighth grade politics anymore, and if he’s intimidating the poor kids, well that’s exactly what he’s there for.
When he’s met with a particularly harsh glare from some snob nosed brat, who happens to remind him a lot of one Tommy Hagan, he bumps into Max on purpose, and announces louder than he needs to in hopes the kid’ll know he was looking for him, “That the little asshole s’been givin’ you trouble?”
Glancing nervously between him and Billy, she nods, “Yeah..”
Billy just nods, a cross between acknowledgment and judgement, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You said-“ Again Max panics, but Billy cuts her off this time with a simple assurance of, “And I didn’t do anything.”
Her eyebrows knit together, realizing that that wasn’t a lie, “I.. guess you didn’t.”
“What’s your first class anyways?”
“We report to the cafeteria before first period.” She informs him, leading him that way, but he hooks two fingers through the strap on her bag to stop her, “Not gonna happen, Maxi. Being shoved in a tiny room with three hundred other kids makes you feel all ‘meltdowny’ I think was your exact word. So you’re not doin’ that anymore. I just decided.”
“But that’s against the rules.”
“Yeah, so’s me bein’ in this building during school hours, but nobody’s saying shit to me, are they?”
Max narrows her eyes at him then, and he knows he said too much, that he’s been found out, “That’s your plan isn’t it.”
There’s a crooked smile on his face he can’t hide as he plays innocent-like, “What is?”
Max pushes him a little and he pretends to misstep while she accuses him, “Coming into school and being all intimidating so nobody will bug me anymore.”
“Pfft, yeah right.” Billy denies again, getting nothing but an eye roll in response at first, but when it’s clear it’s he’s not going to give up and admit it, Max does, glancing shortly over at him, “Well thanks anyways, Billy.”
She adds, realizing he’s wandering with no idea where they’re going, having never been in the middle school himself, “My first class is in B-18.”
“Which one is’at?” He asks, just curious, but Max deflects the question, giving a short, “It’s taught by Mr. Clarke.”
Just from how quiet she is, Billy can tell that she's hiding something, “Max. You seriously don’t even know what class you’re in?”
“No I don’t, okay?” Max stops in the middle of the hallway, ranting at her brother, “It’s already not the same as my old school, and then they moved my schedule all around again after they decided I didn’t qualify for special ed, so now I just go where I’m s’posed to, and I know my teachers better than my classes.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”
“No. There’s nothing anyone can do so it doesn’t matter.” Her tone implies she thought a lot about it, maybe even wanted to, but decided not to.
Billy insists right back, these past two days feeling like he’s constantly petitioning for Max to trust and rely on him, “Oh I could do somethin’. You know I could.”
“I do. But I don’t want you to. Sticking up for me is enough.”
That’s what makes Billy understand. The firmness in her voice says everything she needs him to hear: Max doesn’t want Billy to do for her what she can handle. This is bigger than just being the older brother. This is her setting boundaries, asking for help without wanting to be controlled. That’s something he never really got how to do, being raised by a dictator and all, but it’s something she needs. Sometimes he forgets that.
He doesn’t say anything else, just lets it sit while Max takes him down some stairs to the right room. She stops outside, scuffing up the dusty marble floors with the toe of her Chuck Taylor’s, “Could you.. stick around for a little bit in case he says something?”
Billy clicks his tongue, remarking, “I dunno. I got a class in a few..”
But his sarcasm falls short with Max, which, that’s his bad for not realizing that it would, and her face falls, “Oh, well I guess I can just-”
“Was just funnin’ you shitbird. I don’t give a fuck about my classes.” Max grimaces in that all too familiar way of uncertainty, so he promises, “I’ll be right out here. Go talk to your teacher, ‘n if he says some shit to you, remember I only promised not be stupid about the bully.”
He at least gets a smile for that one, before Max rolls her eyes, “You’re not fighting my science teacher, dummy.”
“Whatever. Just get in there, brat.”
He can see Max holding back a smile as she listens, bounding into her classroom with another quick glance back at Billy to check that he wasn’t lying and going to walk away.
Billy waits until the door fall closed to lean against the row of lockers opposite it, watching her through the little meshed over windows. By now, he’s pretty well versed on what arguments with angry authority figures look like, and the conversation between Max and her teacher is not one. He still stays though, just because Max asked him to, but maybe, just maybe a little for himself, a reassurance that the second he leaves shit isn’t going to get worse, and Max’ll have at least someone other than her equally as nerdy little friends behind her.
Then they both turn and give him a little wave, Max and her teacher, an acknowledgment to Billy that this new routine was indeed going to work out. The way the school district had handled everything else, he wonders if the guy even knew Max wasn’t like his other students until now.
Still, seeing that, Billy gives a half nod in response, and decides his job is done here, at least until tomorrow when he does the same. Max’ll get used to it, and his hope is that the little bully brats won’t. He’ll just have to keep them on their toes.
Which is exactly why, while on his way out, Billy has to break his promise to Max, just slightly, and do something dumb. He finds the Troy kid again, and waits until the little punk is at his peak to knock him down a few pegs.
He’s complaining about some teacher, which is pretty typical for a thirteen-fourteen year old kid, but the other things he’s said to Max make it not as relatable, not as innocent. So he does what any logical, mature adult would do, and scares the piss out of him.
Billy waits until the kid gets a laugh from his troop of assholes, and slams the locker door beside him shut, uncaring of who’s it was. All eyes are quickly on him, all too wide against too pale faces. It’s too easy.
“What are you little shits whining about over here?”
The one in charge steps forward, trying to be tough despite the way he has to practically bend backwards to look up at Billy’s face, “None of your business. Did the freak send you after us to scare us? It ain’t gonna work.”
“Oh I’m not here to scare you. I’m just here to give you your final warning. We’re past the point of intimidation. Matter of fact, next time I have to come here.. it won’t be looking so good for you.”
“You’re lying.” The kid accuses, despite the obvious doubt written behind his features.
Billy can work with that.
“I might be. But I’m still an authority figure over your sorry little asses, and if you don’t start respecting that..” He bends down a little further, still nowhere near the kid but making his whole troupe flinche back, and drops his pitch, “well, I can’t promise what’ll happen to ya, but unlike your teachers, I don’t play by the rules. You got that?”
Straightening himself back out, Billy pretends to start walking away before he adds, “Oh, and if you pick on my kid sister ever again, I will know. Just remember that, uh, Troy was it?”
The kid nods dumbly, literally vibrating with something like fear, and Billy can say he’s pretty satisfied with that. He pats the kid on the shoulder, a touch so gentle it wouldn’t’ve hurt a fly, and notably couldn’t get him in any trouble, but the little shit scampers off, three other puffy head bullies trailing after him.
Everyone sees it happen, Billy with his nasty smirk and his distinguishably high-schooler way of carrying himself, Troy running for the hills in the other direction. He leaves feeling like his point has been thoroughly proven.
It isn’t easy to make Maxine Mayfield cry, but it’s even harder to get away with it, and Billy knows it won’t be a problem from now on.
#billy & max#billy hargrove#max mayfield#autistic max#tw r slur#tw ableism mention#tw bullying mention#ej writer#story by ej!#anon my beloved#you so read my mind with this#I had half a fic written out like this for ages and then this ask popped up (a while ago. I’m sorry I’ve been so slow at requests)#so have this little projection fest my beloved anon#i mighta went a little crazy with this#<3 <3 <3#thank you for sending me this! I love requests!
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Riva Remembers
(A cheesy title for a fic I wrote while in the midst of an emotional breakdown, haha… I figured I’d post it on here because people seem to like my artwork of this OC so far. This is my first time writing these characters. Also I am on mobile and super duper tired from the aforementioned breakdown, so please pardon the long post. I have no idea how to put the read more thing on this… Regardless I hope someone enjoys this, I guess.)
“Agent Cruller, it’s me! Raz! I need to talk to you—“
“Sorry, senior staff only!” The old man in the mailroom office replied coldly, turning back to sorting the piles of letters with telekinesis.
“Don’t you know who I am?!” Nick’s voice came from farther into the mailroom, “I’m telling my dad!”
Razputin suddenly got an idea… He raced down to find his mentor standing there, eyes looking off in two separate directions. Another figure he recognized was on the verge of a nervous breakdown right next to him… Actually she looked like she had already been through multiple breakdowns before he even got here.
“Mr. Johnsmith?! Come on! It’s me! N-nick?!” The teen ran pale hands through her short brown hair, “Th-this is terrible! I am dead for sure!”
“Postage stamps…are scratch and sniff…” The pot-bellied man mumbled nonsensically beside her.
“Whoa, whoa, Riva…” The ten year old’s expression softened, “I was the one who found his brainless body… What do you mean you’re dead?”
“N-norma…she… t-told everyone I…”
“She thinks YOU’RE the mole?!” The child was taken aback, slightly angered even, “Why?!”
“I-I don’t know…M-maybe it’s because I didn’t notice the body before you…?” Riva sniffled, “It doesn’t matter… Agent Foresythe is going to have me detained…o-once she hears about this…”
“What?! No way!” He looked at her with determined eyes, “Don’t worry! I have a plan! I am going to get a new brain for Nick’s body, so he can let me into the mailroom office! Once I get there, I will be one step closer to proving you’re innocent!”
“Y-you really think… I-I’m innocent…?” Her tear filled blue eyes looked at him as if confused by his faith in her.
“I know you are!” He nodded, “Hey! Can you watch Ford for me until I get back? Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere!”
“F-ford…?” The other intern’s eyes narrowed at that name, as if she were squinting to see through a thick fog, “Ford…why does… Oh! Ford Cruller, right… He’s one of the psychic 6…” She shook her head, “Sorry, I am just…all over the place… These panic attacks take a lot out of me…”
“It’s all going to be okay.” The younger of the two gently took the other’s hand, waving to Nick before walking up to the office room, “Agent Cruller! This is my friend! She works in the mailroom—!”
“If she isn’t senior staff, that door ain’t openin’!” Ford declared before the boy could finish.
“Oh, I know!” Raz nodded, “This is Riva. She is having a hard time right now, and I don’t want to leave her alone. Maybe you two could talk or something?”
“Eh?! Oh, sure…sure thing…” The senior sounded slightly jostled for a moment, before returning to his distant demeanor, “Chit chat makes the sortin go faster…”
“Great!” The boy smiled at Riva before racing up to the exit of the mailroom, “I’ll be back as soon as possible!”
Soon after the sound of footsteps and levitation bubbles faded, the remaining intern heard the door creak open.
“Riva…” Cruller’s voice sounded slightly shaken, “I… Is it really you…?”
“S-sir…?” She frowned, “I-I don’t think we’ve met before…”
“Ah… I shoulda known you would’ve repressed it all…” He looked at the floor grimly, “They feared what you could become if you knew…”
“…W-what…?” The teen stepped away as the agent stepped closer, reaching a hand out to her. Eventually, she was against a wall.
“You…really were damaged by the feedback…weren’t you, kid…?” His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern, “Back at Whisperin Rock… you remember that place, right…?”
Oh, that summer camp she got kicked out of only mere days in because she wasn’t even a real psychic?
“Yes, that’s the one.” Cruller answered her thoughts telepathically, “Except… you are psychic, Riva… Always have been… They just wanted you to believe you weren’t…so they could let you go back to society…”
Go…back…? Why wouldn’t she have been allowed to be in society if she was psychic? Isn’t that what the psychonauts are all about?
“You had potential, unlike what Nein Vodello and myself had ever seen from such a young mind… until Raz showed up, of course, but he was slightly older than you were…” He finally grabbed both of her hands, encasing them in his own, “You had such a gift with clairvoyance… it was beyond what the psychonauts ever thought was possible…”
“W-Wait…” She blinked, “You know Raz then? Why didn’t you just let him in the office…?”
“He’s not ready to learn the dark truths I’ve got tucked away in this old noggin…” The old man sighed, “I-I’m not ready for em, either… but… you are. You need to know the truth about yourself… You need to stop disregarding me when I say this: You ARE psychic…”
“B-BUT I’M NOT!” Riva tried to pull her hands away from him, to which he gently released them from their hold, “T-THAT CAMP WAS THE WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME! I THOUGHT I WOULD FIND SOMEWHERE I BELONGED, THAT I WAS GOOD FOR SOMETHING! B-but… I wasn’t… I-I was so full of myself to think I was special! M-My brains just BROKEN—“
“Stop it right there.” His voice became firmer, “Listen to me, before someone comes! Your potent clairvoyance meant we didn’t need any altering technology to convince you of a lie… You are so in tune with other people’s viewpoints and perspectives… you don’t even know what your reality is anymore… Other people tell you who you are, what you do, where you go. No more playin pretend, Riva.”
“I-I…b-but…”
“You were a psychic of high potential even at age 7, with budding specialities in clairvoyance, and hydrokinesis….” He smiled, “You… you made friends with every single piece of me, kid… I took you under my wing to teach you what I knew… but hydrokinesis… was a feared ability due to…well… another incident... When that secret spilled…”
“N-no… I-I can’t be… I-I don’t remember any of this!“
“Nein feared that your age, your diagnosis of autism, both combined with your psychic potential could result in you developing powerful abilities beyond even your own control…” Ford shook his head, “Headquarters wanted to lock ya up for observation in a psychoisolation facility for life… but, Sasha found a loophole. By having someone tell you that their biased perspective was reality, your brain would doubt its own perception, and start to believe them. That’s how we managed to let you leave that campsite with your family…”
By this point Riva was speechless, as countless memories she thought she had selfishly dreamed about returned to her. She fell to her knees, staring at nothing as she was flooded with all that she had forgotten. The ruthless bullying at camp, and their sabotaging of her efforts to learn to use her powers… That time they tried to drown her in the lake and she washed them all ashore on accident… the horror on everyone’s faces… It all actually happened?!
There were some happy things hidden in the mess, though… The time she’d spend drawing the wildlife out there, the cool places to explore… and the single friend she made at camp… That’s right, the cook was always there to comfort her after the other kids picked on her… No, wait, it was the ranger… But then why’d she remember a janitor, and a man watching over the canoes…? Why did they all look the same, identical even…? Then there was one more in a psychonauts uniform…
“There ya go. Now you’re getting it…” His frail hand grabbed one of hers, helping her up with a chuckle. “I should look more familiar to ya now, eh?”
She made eye contact again, and felt so stupid for not noticing this before. Riva always had an interest in the psychonauts, because they seemed like they could tolerate different minds. If her family could afford it, she would even read True Psychic Tales, mainly because she admired the illustrations. How could she not realize she knew Ford “The Founder Of This Whole Place” Cruller until now?!
Yet, at the same time, she felt her eyes water. It was nice to know she had a friend back then, even if he was old enough to be her grandpa. She didn’t say a word, and extended her free arm as an invitation…for something she definitely needed and wouldn’t want to get from Nick. The agent understood, and they hugged for a brief moment. She felt like this had happened before.
“I-I… I’m glad to see you, Mr. Cruller, b-but…” She quickly shifted back to worrying, “I-I am not in the best situation to do much of anything regarding the truth right now… I know Norma is telling Hollis I am the spy in the psychonauts… I-I am going to get locked up in the end anyway… T-they didn’t believe me before… Why would they believe me now—?”
He was gone.
The intercom sounded, with Hollis’ sharp voice ringing out, “Would Riva Beckons please come to the main area IMMEDIATELY!”
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My mom and I are in the car and we went through the drive through and the speaker was really loud and she was like I don’t like loud noises :/ honestly I’ve self diagnosed myself as being on the autism spectrum which like she’s 100% one of those “I’m a little OCD :)” people, but honestly her being somewhere on the spectrum would explain a lot.
-Silver
oh my mom is also completely a “haha i’m a little ocd” person too when she refers to like. idk simply wanting something in a particular place. i Do think my mom is Also undiagnosed neurodivergent as well tho, i actually think there’s multiple people in my family that are undiagnosed autistic, including my brother - he shows every stereotypical male autistic trait off the entire list and growing up w/ him it makes so much sense that he would be.
(putting the rest of my response under a readmore huge apologies for the length of this response omg..)
i think there’s a lot of people that go their whole life kind of just dealing with what very clearly is neurodivergency without getting a formal diagnosis, and i believe that’s totally okay! it’s their choice to get a diagnosis, some people are fully unaware of what they have, getting diagnosed can be super expensive, etc etc. i don’t judge people’s reasons for why they stick to self diagnosis or no diagnosis.
i believe self diagnosis is okay if you clearly put a lot of time and thought and research into it, preferably have spoken to other individuals who are diagnosed is a really good resource to confirm it’s likely you have it. a lot of autistic friends of mine and even this person i met when i had my stay at the mental facility who’s professionally diagnosed autistic since they were a child was like, “You are 100% autistic and i highly recommend you get diagnosed, you show all the stereotypical traits” and even proceeded to ask me questions abt myself which confirmed their suspicions.
sorry this got long haha, it’s a topic i’m passionate about and is really important to me. but yeah it’s especially interesting for me to look at Why my childhood was so especially frustrating, Why socializing was an entire mystery to me and still is in some ways, why i processed sensory input so poorly, why i felt the intense attachment and happiness to my special interests to the point of emotional distress if i couldn’t indulge in them for as long as i needed. Why my voice sounds the way it does (my voice is very flat and monotone 99% of the time and has gotten me in trouble more times than i can count lol) Why comprehending people’s intentions/demeanor/current emotions can also be extremely confusing… why i literally searched up social skills how to on google… put all together it paints a clear picture, i’m autistic! and although i wasn’t diagnosed until now i know for certain i am and always was.
if you ever wanna talk more abt why you think you’re on the spectrum feel free to send me more asks ^_^ i can provide any info you need, though it should be made clear every autistic person and their experiences are different.
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I'm looking into getting my autism diagnosis and it got to the point in the process where I did in fact have to tell my mom and she didn't take it well, not Evil just "we never Guessed that for u it doesn't fit what we researched when u were little I mean u have Empathy" and it was super invalidating even tho earlier that day my doc validated all my symptoms and (fic request) I would like 13 to show up Right Now and take me Away to see some stars and be comforted and validated that'd be nice
So I did this instead of doing my homework but now I'm gonna go do that. I hope I did your prompt justice. Remember, your diagnosis does not depend upon the opinion of someone who doesn't really understand autism. Especially not if a professional is saying otherwise. I wish you luck with the rest of your diagnosis process!
Hidden Colors
You sighed as you wandered tiredly into the kitchen, getting the kettle set up for a nice hot drink after the day you’d had. Your doctor’s appointment had gone well, the issue was what came after. Safe to say you were pouting, but that wasn’t really a bad thing. It was, in a way, a way of working through your feelings. It was better than always trying to ignore them, and you were alone anyway. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason to pout. You had a very good reason to pout.
But then there was a sound that nearly cheered you up entirely, quickly rising up over the sound of the boiling kettle and then growing quiet again. You rushed to the closest window, and, not seeing anything, picked another window. There she was. You saw the Tardis door open and the Doctor herself peeked out, glancing around. She spotted you in the window and grinned brightly, waving to you.
You waved back, turning away from the window to rush outside, completely forgetting about the kettle as it finished boiling and switched itself off. The Doctor cheered your name as she saw you, opening the Tardis door for you both to head inside. This, you decided, was exactly what you needed.
“Oh! You had an appointment today didn’t you?” The Doctor seemed to remember, checking the monitor, probably double-checking the date. “How’d it go?”
“The appointment went well” You told her truthfully, trying not to think about it much. She caught on to the disappointment in your tone though and frowned.
“Oh good. I’m glad” Was all she said, nodding slowly. She stared at the console for a moment, like she was thinking, and you watched her, the console room unusually quiet.
“Where’s the fam?” You asked then, glancing around. “It’s usually much noisier in here”
“They wanted a visit home, so I figured I’d pop in and give you your own trip. We haven’t done that in ages!” The Doctor grinned, starting to fiddle with the various buttons and switches on the console. You grasped the console tightly as the Tardis took off, but you weren’t flying nearly as long as you usually did when it stopped.
The Doctor was oddly quiet too, usually she’d be excitedly explaining your next destination from the moment you stepped on board, rattling off fun facts and painting a pretty picture of foreign landscapes to make you even more excited to get to where you were going.
“Doctor, where are we?” You asked, frowning when she began to head for the doors. She said nothing, only gesturing for you to follow her. She stopped at the doors, both hands on the handles, waiting for you to come to a stop beside her.
You eyed her quizzically but she simply smiled in return, pulling the doors open to reveal empty space around you, dotted with distant stars, one looking far closer than the others and seeming oddly.. Unstable.
You looked to the Doctor, trying to find any cues for what you should be doing. She looked back at you and then settled herself to the floor, sitting with her legs dangling off the edge of the doorway. You copied her, arranging yourself to sit comfortably beside her and waiting for her to explain your sightseeing.
“This is a star that is visible from Earth actually” She began. “See that over there? That little light, just to the right of the bigger one” She pointed. “That’s Earth. The bigger one is your sun. And this one” She gestured to the closest star.
“This is betelgeuse. Tenth brightest star of your night sky, and second brightest of the constellation Orion. This is relatively close to your time, a little in the future. Today is the die this star dies” She finished. There was a lasting quiet for a few moments.
“That’s sad” You pointed out. “How old is it?”
“About ten billion years old, give or take” The Doctor answered. “But it’s okay, because when this star dies the elements that made it won’t. They’ll scatter, and in another billion years or so, they’ll all be in new stars, or planets. Some might even be making up living beings” Her optimistic outlook made you smile, if only slightly. “But it’s going to take a bit still until it goes supernova. So, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” She suggested casually. You hesitated, but in a way you had expected this.
“My appointment did go well” You began, repeating yourself from earlier. “My diagnosis is moving along, my doctor, well my other doctor” She smiled at that. “Told me it’s likely I’ll get my full diagnosis. Everything lines up”
“Well that’s good!” The Doctor beamed. “Spectacular! Wait, spec-? No, I’m not saying that again” She frowned in distaste. “What’s the problem bit then?”
“Well, it’s gotten far enough that I kind of had to mention it to my mom” You admitted, fingers fidgeting nervously. “She didn’t get upset really, but she doesn’t think I actually.. You know?”
“She doesn’t believe you’re autistic?” The Doctor clarified, her tone was soft and comforting, and it was one of the rare times that she was still. Her eyes were on you, listening attentively, but she didn’t feel overbearing, just… soft. Understanding. You nodded.
“Apparently they did a bunch of research when I was little, and they didn’t think I could be autistic” You thought for a moment, trying to consider which details of the conversation you wanted to bring up. “She said something about ‘I have empathy’, or something?” The Doctor scoffed at that.
“For that, she doesn’t believe you could be autistic?” She said disbelievingly. “That’s not the only trait for autism, she knows that right?”
“Yeah, she knows, she just thinks it’s an important one I guess” You shrugged.
“Well even if it was” The Doctor shook her head. “And it’s not, autistic people have as much empathy as any other person, you don’t have to have all the traits. It’s not a game of bingo” She got a smile out of you for that one. “Seriously, don’t take what she said to heart, okay? Just because some people don’t have a proper understanding of it, or you don’t ‘look autistic’ or whatever doesn’t mean you are any less.
"Especially not if a trained professional is saying you are. You know that right?” She looked pleased when you nodded. “I dare say, you know your mind better than she does” You both fell into a comfortable silence once again, and after a few moments she pointed out at the star.
You followed her gaze and watched as the star before you seemed to curl in on itself before it burst outwards. Your eyes widened as the red star burst into an array of colors, a wave of light and colors flying out from it’s centre.
“See all the colors, hiding inside?” The Doctor smiled. “Before this moment no one had any way of knowing they were there. Only the star” You weren’t sure if that was in any way scientifically accurate, but you appreciated the poetic statement nonetheless.
You both watched the dying star for some time afterwards, watching the light disperse until you were left in darkness, the only light coming from the more distant stars now, like watching the sun set.
Okay, so pouting wasn’t the only way to express your feelings.
#thirteenth doctor x autistic!reader#thirteen x autistic!reader#doctor who x autistic!reader#autistic!reader#autistic#actually autistic#doctor who reader insert#doctor who fanfiction#doctor who x reader#doctor who#thirteenth doctor x reader#thirteenth doctor#thirteen x reader#thirteen#the doctor x reader#doctor x autistic!reader#autistic!reader insert
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This is for one person in particular. Well, maybe two people.
...I wasn’t good for you, was I?
You found me at a pretty low point of my life, I’ve said that before. I was trying to do what the world told me, trying to be a good little boy, get that job, earn my place in the world and...I failed. I was lying on a bed in a house in the suburbs, flatmates fighting in the ungodly hours of the morning, desperately trying to escape from the world. That was how you found me and for some reason you saw something worth a damn.
And then I proceeded to bleed you dry. I didn’t know how to get myself out of my hole and so I just started dragging you down with me, using you as just another means of escape and demanding so much of you...far too much. How many times did you lament that your love wasn’t enough to help me stand on my own two feet? How many times did you think that you were inferior because of it? Did I make you hate yourself because of my failures?
That’s not to say that it was all bad: we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did if we didn’t click on some level, after all. The talks we had, the things we shared between us...it would be disrespectful to say that they meant nothing: maybe their value to us makes this whole thing worse in retrospect, who knows. What I do know is that, even if only ashes remain now, you were the best friend I ever had: you were kind, funny and passionate and your presence in this world stood in defiance of the forces that sought to bring you low. You fought for your right to exist, so maybe it makes sense that you waited for so long for me to do the same. I’m sorry I let you down.
That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it: why didn’t I leave that hole that I found myself in? I can blame outside forces (and I often did), but the fact of the matter is that I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to be the person that the world demanded of me and no-one seemed to be able to tell me, so somewhere along the way I just grew comfortable in that wretched hole, at home in my misery. I started pantomiming my own life, living as if death would never come and not really living in the process, and it was this awful piece of theatre that you ended up being an unwilling part of: despairing about the future that I couldn’t see and slowly wearing yourself away. I imagine the tipping point came after those three weeks together ended and you saw how little things had changed.
Those three weeks...before long it will have been two years since that trip to see you and it’s...weird to think about. I know that time has lost a bit of its meaning since then, but even then it’s hard to believe that it was really that long ago. I still remember the elevator up to your apartment, walking to the tramlines and going to that one tea shop - and you bet your ass I remember that hike uphill to the castle. The emotions have faded over time, but I have no qualms in saying that those were quite literally the best days of my life: I know that the word “literally” has kinda lost its meaning in this day and age, but I can confidently say that no experience before or since has compared. So why didn’t it change anything? Why did I go right back into my hole when I got back?
I don’t think either of us knew at the time, but come a few months later it didn’t matter all that much anyway. You found someone else and left and, now that I look back, I really can’t blame you for trying to find a less bleak fate than what was in store for you. I remember you saying to me how scared you were of a future where you had to support the both of us: why wouldn’t you be? I had demonstrated no ability to be a functioning human being and I would have inevitably become a burden...well, more of a burden. What kind of future is that, for either of us? And so you left to find a brighter one.
It was ugly and painful and I have no doubt that it still hurts you, just like it does me. For a decent amount of time I was blinded by my own pain and I said things that I can no longer stand by in good conscience: I blamed you for how things had gone and eventually cut you out of my life so I could best deal with my wrenching sorrow. To some degree that action has proved successful: being able to live without having reminders of my failures at the forefront of my mind has let me claw back pieces of myself and move forward with my life, even if it has taken some time. I cannot however defend the reasons why I did it though, born as they were from an inability to reflect on my own deficiencies.
It turns out that there might’ve been a reason for that inability, actually. You remember me talking about my Asperger’s Syndrome diagnosis? It was something that I got told about as I was growing up and it was basically conveyed to me as a low-strength form of autism, something fairly surmountable in comparison to the more traditional forms. Last year though, I found media that suggested that Asperger’s Syndrome was a less-than-credible condition from a doctor that quite literally collaborated with Nazis and further research revealed that the term was no longer in official use. I talked to my mother about this and she casually dropped into conversation that I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.
ADHD! So many goddamn things clicked into place once she said that and I imagine that the same might be happening for you right now. No wonder I had so much difficulty functioning in that job, how infuriating it was to focus on things, how I would sally forth into different trains of thought mid-conversation. My mother’s general mistrust of the medical system also meant that I’d been dealing with these things all my life without any sort of medication, the usual way that other people with ADHD make themselves co-operate with the strictures of society. No wonder things went to fucking pieces the moment I stepped into the real world.
I’ve had to do some serious thinking since then, not least of all about my future. I tried to keep on the jobsearching grind for a while after that bombshell dropped, but after months of no luck I snapped and decided to take an alternate route, one that I couldn’t consider while we were together. Since then I’ve moved away from home and I’m studying to maybe one day be a social worker: to one day have the tools to help people like me, people stuck in their own holes and unable to get out without the helping hand of someone who understands what they’re going though. No doubt you’d say that you’re happy for me and I don’t doubt that statement: you’re a better person that I was and even through all this you’ve wished no ill towards me. You’re a good person like that.
These days I’m doing decently okay: I’m living with 3 flatmates who I get along with pretty well and my studies are progressing as they should. I’m trying to write a bit more as well, although about the only thing I’ve done lately of any tangibility has been...well, this. Even with the progress I’ve made, what happened between us still bobs to the surface from time to time and I have to process things all over again: it gets easier as time marches onwards, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy. That probably explains why I reacted so violently to the message you sent me, among other things.
What I said there was true: I can’t face you while things are the way they are. I’m not strong enough to watch you be happy with someone else, because it’s a reminder that I can no longer elicit that same joy from you: a reminder that our time has passed because of my failures. It’s knowledge that hollows me out from the inside. I tried to be strong - tried to ignore that hollowing out and remain friends - and failed over and over, coming close enough to nothingness to feel it encroaching on my soul, so now I put up my walls to protect it.
I need to be okay. And I can’t do that with you around. It’s an awful thing to say and you don’t deserve it, but it’s the truth. Once more you suffer for my deficiencies as a human being.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person that you needed: I guess the deck was kinda stacked against us from the beginning, considering what I didn’t know about myself and, y’know, the whole long-distance thing, so don’t go thinking that any of this was your fault. You remain one of the best people I have ever met and I am eternally grateful for the time we shared together: do not doubt that you are worthy of love, even in your lowest moments. You’re a damn good human being and you deserve to have good things happen to you, better things than me.
I imagine you’re expecting me to say this, but oh well: I’d prefer it if you don’t send me a response to what I have written here. Beyond just safeguarding my own wellbeing, I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time now and what you see is pretty much every single thing that I can conceivably say in regards to all that has transpired between us. I don’t really have anything else to say and after this I will hopefully not think about this so much anymore and get on with my life. I would implore you to do the same.
I wish you all the best.
...
...there’s a small piece of me that doubles back on what I’ve written here, seeing if it can instill its will within the paragraphs wherein it can wend its way to you. It’s the piece of me that still loves you, that holds out hope that I may one day see you again and that we can rediscover what was lost. It tells me to leave my heart open to the opportunity, to hope against hope that things change. This last paragraph is my concession to it in the vain hope that it’ll finally fucking shut up.
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Hi, autie.
I love you.
Um, sorry... I don't have a word to tell you how thankful I am to your comics. So if you perceive this as a kind of love confession, I'm sorry as my love see you as friends.
Please skip this to end part if you feel tired, it will be a long story from the start.
Uh... I admit I don't have a good english and my own tongue, so let's hope that my words will reach you.
I am an Introvert Feeling with autisme and I only knew it last year (I am 20 right now as four days ago it's my birthday (but I'm feeling that I still in 10 years old or older than 50)).
At first, when I'm still ten years old, I have uncontrollable emotions like angry at jokes and broke things (fortunately, I kind of controlled it now?). I kind of keep myself caged at library or my room as playing with other children will trigger my trauma. The same year, I had accident cause I saw my higher class did it and nothing happened to him. I followed him even though I kept telling me to stay away. But I remembered that I don't feel anything, like I am confused to see my teachers worried? And I went to hospital.
After that, I remembered when I was in kindergarten. When I accidentally made my friend fell of from spinning wheel (it's crowded and I am the spinner (I'm not on it)), I am confused why she's crying and only focus on the spin (kind of, my memories was hazy). Now, I feel guilty everytime I remembered that.
I felt that I'm dangerous (not only because of that), so I shut myself away from peers. Even, from my families.
Everytime, everyday, every month, and every years... I always asked myself, why I am like this... why I did that... or why I keep thinking this instead of interacting with human?
I don't know and the god answered me with one book (I realised it one year later). It was about Autism or Asperger Syndrome. I remembered that I told my parents to bought that for my interests looking and want to learn psychology (cause in the past, I met it and interacted with some? Or I was bullying them without me realizing? I don't know)
I related some in the book but it still didn't clicked my mind. I just thought, "Isn't it normal?"
And one year later... I got diagnosed for depression, anxiety, etc. It was the test online from university that I dropped out now (I don't feel anything, just like when I was accepted by it).
Not only that, I was sent by the doctor to psychiatrist cause I always said that my body feel pain even though I'm okay? (I only knew the reason after I learnt about bio psychology only for two weeks ago)
After questioning many things, my psychiatrist said that I have to test three times. One is for my iq (this was fine as I always love this kind of quiz), one is for my like or hate (I always exhausted and kind of made some questions in bland), and finally the one I didn't recognized (The answer of all my suffering but I still need help cause I don't know the feeling in the question).
I answered it all with more honesty than I would in high school (cause I thought with the brain, not feeling) and kind of shocked to my answer. It has more than one answers, as like 'how much this will happen questions'
And... voila, my psychiatrist asked me if I know Asperger syndromes?
I said maybe but don't catch the memories where did I knew the words. I searching in internet and found one pictures that related to my experiential live hoods (surprise! I am a girl). Somehow, my life been flashed around my eyes. Just maybe... I did that (the 'bullying' or imteraction I had to them) because I was kind of jealous of them, like they can be free to express their emotion because someone already knew their diagnosis (my parents until now didn't get the official result of my test (and I always thought that they think I just want some reason to be... accepted behaviour (remember... that I have to kept this thing all by myself for 8 years)). Fortunately (before I went to the new university), I had a therapy (only for four times cause money and time), kind of better now.
So why am I so thankful to you?
It's so many so I just list what I remembered now.
1. Your comics helped me to write about autistic OCs (yeah... It's kind of piled up now) and recognized that my info dumping was informations about all of my OCs (yes, I kind of remembered that) and making relation one to another characters.
2. You are one of the reason that;
I love myself,
I picked psychology course,
I know how to interact with other autistics,
I know that it's okay to be self diagnosed,
I know that I'm not alone,
And finally... It's okay to info dumping but I still see the situation first.
In conclusion, you saved my life. But why?
Oh I forgot to tell you, it's really crucial for me.
I kind of have suicidal mind, like my thoughts were step ahead of me and I saw myself jumped to the running car when I wanted to crossing the streets (in the past I kind of got hit by motorcycle and I was fine only scratches (it was a secret)) or when I was using the knife, I saw it as my skins got bloody.
Fortunately, all of that only illusion and I still kind of controlled myself (cause my lessons in school and my mother scolded me that I am important to my parents (I always thought that they still had my younger sister if I were gone since my childhood))
As I am reading your comics, I kind of had found hope in my life now... like if you can tell your comics to the world, why I can't be?
So... Thank you and I am sorry if you feel attacked or think that I only joking with my autistic diagnosis (i'm not joking). Don't worry to skip my ask if you feel uncomfortable (I knew the feeling to feel tired through a long chat in group chatroom but I can't help it).
Oh and sorry for not watching you live, cause my anxiety made me not liking to hear other my family's voice even my own voice (except songs, I tolerated that).
I learnt that if someone said love to the one their loved ones, It will came back to you. (I got it from my imagination friend, yeah... I still had them until now).
Then goodbye and I love you with your comics, see you soon😁
Thank you so much. I really don’t think you’re joking about your autism, and this message didn’t make me feel uncomfortable or attacked at all. Sorry it took a while to respond though.
I’m so happy that my comic helped you so much. Life is so scary, and confusing when you think there’s something wrong with you, and that you’re alone, when in reality there’s nothing wrong, and you’re not alone. The fact that my comic helped you learn to love yourself just fills my heart with so much joy. It took me so many years to learn to love myself so I understand how hard it can be. I wish you nothing but the best, and hope that your life just keeps getting better!
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Papa’s Job
Summary: Mason gets introduced to Ashton’s line of work.
A/N: Smushed a few ideas together. Also this piece delves deeper into Mason’s special needs diagnosis/lack thereof. And while I’ve done a fair amount of research both over the years for various reasons, and while writing this, I am by no means an expert, and my research is no substitute for personal experience. So please, feel free to offer constructive and KIND feedback in ways I can better write Mason. Happy reading!
Word Count: ~2k
And away, and away we go!
__
It seemed to Vanessa like wherever she turned, Mason was underfoot. “Fuckin’ hell!” she swore as she turned and almost tripped over the little boy.
Mason’s bottom lip trembled as he clapped his hands over his ears at her outburst.
She sighed and crouched down in front of the almost three year old, keeping a careful hold on Bailey who had been particularly fussy since her first round of shots the day before. “Sweet boy, you’re too close. I have the baby, we have to be careful.”
“Baie,” he nodded, reaching for his sister.
“You wanna hold her?”
Another nod.
“Okay, sweet boy. Let’s go sit, and you can hold Bai.”
Mason sprinted to the living room, flinging himself onto the couch. He grabbed the boppy and put it on his lap. “Momma. Baie.”
“Yes, Mase.” Vanessa said a silent prayer that Bailey wouldn’t kick up a fuss about not being in her arms as she placed the two month old on the boppy.
Bailey twisted her mouth to start crying, but Mason was quick to place his hand by her, her little fingers grasping around his slightly bigger index finger. “Baie, Baie, Baie,” he sang softly to her as she settled down.
“Bailey, Bailey, Bailey,” Vanessa sang with him, sitting down next to her son.
Mason continued to sing nonsense sounds at his sister, who slowly drifted off to sleep. Once Vanessa was sure she could move Bailey from Mason and upstairs to her crib to continue sleeping, she reached for her daughter. Mason whined low in his throat, placing his hands gently over Bailey. “Momma,” he warned in a low whisper.
“I know. I’m gonna go put her in her bed, sweet boy,” she answered back, her voice just as low.
Mason’s whine got more pronounced.
Vanessa pressed a finger to her lips. “I know you love her and want to hold her. You’re a great big brother, Mase. But sissy went night-night. You can hold her when she wakes up, okay?”
He pouted, but moved his hands away so Vanessa could take the sleeping infant. But clearly he wasn’t too thrilled at his sister being taken away because as soon as Bailey was in Vanessa’s arms, he chucked the boppy to the floor. “Mason Nicholas!” Vanessa hissed through her teeth as the toddler took off.
She held back the sigh, focusing on getting Bailey into her crib without more fuss.
Mason, in his quest to hide so he could continue to pout in peace, ended up at the top of the staircase leading to the basement. “Hey, Mase,” Ashton smiled when the little boy came stumbling down. He gripped the cymbal of his drum set between his index finger and thumb to silence it, setting his drumsticks aside. “Where’s Momma and Bailey?”
Mason jutted out his lower lip and pointed up the stairs.
“Aw, did Momma put Bailey down for a nap?”
Mason nodded. “Baie, Papa,” he whimpered.
“Aw,” Ashton chuckled, patting his lap. “Wanna come sit with me?”
He wiped at his face, walking over to Ashton and crawling into his lap. “Baie, Papa,” he repeated in a hiccuped sob.
Ashton wrapped the boy into him. “I know you’re sad. But Bailey needs to sleep. When she’s awake you can hold her some more.”
“Momma,” Mason mumbled.
“Yeah, I’m sure Momma did tell you the same thing. But it’s okay. You can still be sad about it.”
Mason let out a shuddery breath of acceptance before pushing at Ashton’s chest. Ashton opened his arms, expecting the boy to climb down from his lap. But to his surprise, Mason reached forward to tap his hands against the various drums, liking the sounds he produced. “Papa!” he beamed.
Ashton lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yeah? You wanna play the drums with me?” Ashton grabbed the drumsticks. “Look, bud,” he said, striking at the drums.
Mason laughed with glee at the sound, clutching on to Ashton’s wrists.
“Here, you try,” Ashton said, handing Mason one of the drumsticks.
Mason looked at it in uncertainty and back at Ashton.
“Like this,” Ashton demonstrated again.
Mason copied what Ashton had done as best he could.
“There ya go! Just like that!” Ashton encouraged, shifting Mason so that the boy was on one his knees, freeing up his other leg to kick up a steady beat against the bass drum.
“Mason?!” Vanessa’s frantic voice called down the stairs. “Ash, is he down there with you?”
“Yeah, we’re down here, baby.”
She came flying down the staircase, halting at the bottom, eyes wild as they landed on Mason sitting happily on Ashton’s lap playing with the drum kit. “You scared the crap out of me!”
Ashton’s own eyes went wide. “Me? What did I do?”
“Not you, him!” She pointed a finger at Mason. “He got mad that I put Bailey down so he took off to hide. I thought he went to hide in his room. Fuckin’ damn near tore the house apart looking for him.”
“Whoa,” Ashton eased, standing up and adjusting Mason on his hip. “Take a minute. He’s been with me. He’s fine.”
“Yeah, I can see that… Here, I’ll take him back upstairs.”
Ashton waved her off as Mason squirmed in his hold to reach for the drums. “Nah, I got him, it’s fine. We’re having fun, aren’t we, bud?”
Mason smacked on the cymbal with his stick, giggling at the sound.
Vanessa’s heart melted. “Alright. But, you, mister Mason,” she said, wagging a finger at the boy. “We do not throw things when we are upset.”
“Uh-oh,” Ashton tsked, looking down at the boy in his arms. “Momma’s right, Mase. Throwing things isn’t nice. What do we say after we do something that’s not nice?”
“Momma!” Mason grinned, blowing Vanessa a sloppy toddler kiss.
She crossed over to her boys, kissing Mason’s cheek. “I forgive you, sweet boy. So what are you and Papa doing?”
“Teaching him how to play drums. He seems to really like it,” Ashton told her, sitting back down with Mason so they could go back to playing.
“Yeah, they say music’s really good for him.”
“Who’s they?”
“They. The doctors. The research. Something about the repetitive nature helping with his speech. I dunno, a lot of the scientific mumbo jumbo goes over my head.”
“Well, why don’t we get him in like a class, or something. They have those, right?”
“Yeah. And I’ve been meaning to. But every time I think to look into it, something else comes up. And without a formal diagnosis, it’s hard to find the right class for him.”
“He doesn’t have a formal diagnosis? What does that mean?”
“It means they, the doctors, just have a lot of really good guesses but not any real answers because he’s still so young. It’s currently a toss up between aphasia and autism.”
“Okay, I know what autism is more or less. But what the fuck is that other word?”
“Fancy talk for speech disorder.”
“That is so fuckin stupid… they can’t tell if he has a speech disorder? He’s damn near three years old and only says 4 fuckin words. I may not know a whole hell of a lot about child development or whatever the fuck, but pretty sure three olds are supposed to say a lot more than 4 bloody words.”
Vanessa stifled her laughter as Ashton vented his frustration. She wondered how many times you had raved the exact same thing to Finn, almost verbatim. “They can tell he has a speech disorder, love. They just can’t tell if it’s just it’s own thing, or if there’s more to it than that. Autism and speech disorders tend to overlap.”
“Yeah, and I bet you had to pay out your fuckin ears for all those doctor visits, and specialists, and shit. God, your healthcare here sucks.”
This time, she did laugh. “Yeah, but Finn and I both have pretty good insurance plans so it wasn’t too bad.”
“Yeah, and we can always just do this,” he told her, jerking his chin about the room. “Do our own music therapy here in the basement.”
“Now, that’s not a bad idea.”
“Man, I can’t wait to start touring again. I mean, I’m gonna miss you guys like fuckin’ crazy. But god, I can’t wait to show you guys around when we do our gig here. You’re gonna fuckin’ love it, baby.”
“It might just be me coming to see you, babe. I don’t know how Mase will handle all the noise, even with headphones.”
“Shit you’re right… well maybe you guys should come to a rehearsal then. Give the headphones a proper test.”
“A private concert all our own, huh? I think that sounds perfect.”
~~~
Mason gasped in excitement as they walked into the rehearsal space and he saw all the instruments. “Momma!”
“Yeah, I see, sweet boy. Are you excited to watch Papa and Uncles?”
“Momma,” he nodded.
“Go say hi to everybody, and then we’ll sit and listen, okay?”
Mason dashed off to press his forehead against Calum, Luke, and Michael who all murmured their own hellos to the boy while Ashton helped Vanessa get settled down with Bailey. “Ikey!” Mason screeched when he got to Michael, reaching up to touch the man’s fringe that poked out of his hat.
“Yes!” Michael whooped in victory. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Michael said pointing at Calum, Luke, and then back at Calum with each “fuck you.”
Calum rolled his eyes while Luke pouted, “How is ‘Mikey’ easier to say than ‘Luke’? How does he like your hair better? I have curls!”
“Oh, just let him have the win, Luke,” Ashton said, straightening up to his feet. “You guys ready or what?”
After making sure Bailey and Mason had their ears protected, the men all situated themselves with their instruments and started playing.
Mason managed to sit quietly through about two and a half songs before he got up and went over to Ashton, resting his small hand against the man’s leg. Ashton nodded for them to keep going when Calum, Luke, and Michael turned to look at him in a silent question. Between beats, Ashton scooped Mason up into his lap and finished the song. “Whatcha think?” Ashton asked both everybody and nobody as he pushed sweaty locks of hair back away from his face.
“Transitions sounded better this time,” Michael commented.
“Sounded better than better. Sounded tour ready,” Luke corrected.
“Could do without audience participation,” Calum teased with a playful look at Mason on Ashton’s lap.
“Just because you missed a beat, doesn’t mean you have to be bitter, Cal,” Ashton teased back. “And speaking of audience participation. What’d ya think?”
With all four men watching her, Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. “I’m no music expert, but I’m with Luke and Mike. Sounded really good.”
Mason, displeased that the music had stopped, reached across Ashton’s lap to strike at the cymbal with his hands. “Here,” Ashton told him, handing Mason the drumsticks. “With these.”
Mason tried again, shrieking with excitement at the sounds he produced from hitting the different parts of the drum set. Much like how he had done in the basement a week ago, Ashton shifted so Mason was fully seated on one leg so he would work the bass drum with his free leg without jostling the boy too much in the process. “Atta boy, Mase!” Ashton praised.
Rehearsal was quickly disbanded in favor of giving Mason a turn at all the other instruments in the room, letting him choose his favorite. Mason sat with Michael the longest, happily swiping a guitar pick against the strings. “Well, now we know what to get him for his birthday,” Michael grinned, sticking his tongue out at Calum and Luke.
Calum grumbled that this was barely a win for Michael because all this proved was that Mason definitely liked guitars, making it a win for everyone except Ashton, while Luke pouted more about how unfair it was Mason liked Michael more than him because “We play the same bloody instruments! I have CURLS!”
Ashton laughed at his friends, letting Michael gloat in his little victories a little bit longer before getting Mason’s attention. “Mase? Drums?” He drummed a quick and small beat that had Mason launching himself off of Michael and across the room to Ashton’s lap.
“Ha!” Calum smirked, flipping off Michael. “Now who’s Mase’s favorite?”
“Bailey,” everyone answered without needing to think about it.
__
Tag List
@frontmanash @goeatsomelife @flameraine @creator-appreciator @cxddlyash @1-irwin-94 @sparkling-calm @tea4sykes @youngblood199456 @5-seconds-of-obsession @gosh-im-short @aquarius-hood1996 @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @philthepegacorn @boomerash @teenwolfss24 @karajaynetoday @myfavfanficsever @stormrider505 @cashtonisruiningmylife
#papa's job#ashton irwin#ashton irwin fic#ashton&vanessa#ash&mase#mase&bai#papa!ash#uncle!sos#galcal irwin
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Long Winding Road Stay Strapped My Dude
By: Astoria Cathryn Andromeda
Alrighty, this is a long one boys. So I touched briefly on this in my Welcome to Literally Everything post. No worries I'll recap you, so you don't have to switch back and forth. I just diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, and then ADHD when I was 18 years old, and even then I had to fight for it after countless hours of research. See, there seems to be a wee bit of misogyny in the neurodiverse diagnoses. When I say a wee bit, I mean that scientists used to think that only boy could be autistic or ADHD. They only studied autism in males. Fortunately, nowadays we know that girls can be autistic and/or ADHD, but we present the traits differently than boys, and a lot of our traits are played off due to gender roles in society. For example, being overly talkative in girls is called chatty, whereas boys who can't sit still are sent off for testing immediately. This also causes problems for the boys, because little Johnny gets put on Adderall at the ripe age of 6 years old, just because he can't sit still for 8 hours straight, which by the way should not be expected of any elementary school kid, By the time, he's 25 he's 1) completely dependent on amphetamines 2) his body will stop producing dopamine due to being on the medication for so long. Nicht Gut. Generally, boys who are on the spectrum get picked out earlier due to late speaking, or lack of social skills. This is the one thing that girls happen to do better than boys. Girls are good at masking, which is basically taking social traits, phrases, personalities, demeanor, and copying them. In public, they put on a mask and at home, they have a meltdown. Girls are still not picked up as being on the spectrum, because shyness is called being 'ladylike' and 'dainty', and having a meltdown is just because :( girls are oh-so emotional, boohoo. Anyways tons of women do not get diagnosed with autism until they are well into their adulthood, I actually can be considered lucky to have technically still been a teenager when we finally got all the pieces together.
Alright, let's start with I don't know me as a baby. I did not speak until I was 2 years old, and then it was immediately full sentences from then on. I didn't do the babbling thing, which I don't know how impactful that really is to the topic. I was a very shy little girl. I was teeny tiny, we didn't know I if I was going to make it to 5 feet tall until I had a big growth spurt in 7th grade. I am 5'2 now and definitely done growing in case you were wondering, so not that short anymore. I did not like talking to adults, especially strangers, especially men. I did not look anyone in the face, and I will always hide behind my parent's legs when they would try to introduce me to people. I am an only child, and I spent a lot of time entertaining myself. I always had seasonal affective disorder, where my grades would dip in the winter. My parents knew I had a timer, they had 45 minutes from the moment they stepped into a restaurant before I would start breaking down. If I got off schedule as a toddler in any form, it was a catastrophe. Or this is what my parents and family tell me. I didn't really notice. I did not like being out in public a lot, I was a very picky eater, and I was extremely hyper. I was a very eccentric child, I only had 1-2 close friends and they were always a very well-liked outgoing girl who I just followed around. Looking back, I don't know how we missed it. I was shy because I didn't understand how social interactions worked, I was anxious about it because I didn't understand, I had sensory overloads, routines, and a very bland diet with a safe food which was ketchup. I put that shit on literally everything, eas, apples, mac and cheese, pizza, all meat, anything something forced me to eat that I did not like. But because I could sit still in class, and because I could zone out and daydream all day through school and still make A's nobody ever flagged me for anything and how I was supposed to know that not everybody just copied other people, scripted things before they talked, and could never pay attention. My mom always required me to be in a sport, and I was a gymnast and a swimmer for a long time, two very high-intensity sports, to help lower my energy levels, and because my mom has mild depression and she knows that exercise does help. Skip to middle school, my mom tells me I'm being bullied at church. It's not that I wasn't observing my surroundings I knew I was being excluded, but I didn't understand vindictive behavior, I thought it was my fault. I had zero friends in 8th grade until I sat down next to a random acqutaince I had gone to school with since I was 4 and the same gymnastics place. Then we were immediately attached at the hip after that. She is my best friend due this day and definitely got me through high school. Led me through so many social situations without either of us knowing. I had a very close friendgroup in highschool, all of them were on the drumline which I met through my best friend, and my first boyfriend was my best friend's neighbor. I ended up playing bass guitar for my high school's indoor drumline, and it was the best experience ever. I love my friends, but I had really bad depression when I was 15-now:) jk It's better. I didn't really realize I was depressed, I just didn't want to go to school, or swim practice, or do anything so of course, my mom noticed, and then once it was pointed out to me it got worse. My severe anxiety spiraled with my depression. Senior year of high school, my boyfriend and I were like toxic star crossed lovers, hurting each other over and over again without meaning to. My friends and I were self harming, all my close friends gad some demon going on. I finally decided to try therapy again after the disaster of being forced to go when I was 15 and the lady told me I wasn't depressed because I had a boyfriend and good grades. It helped a bit, I was able to get my panic attacks under control. Then I went away to college and stayed dating my senior high school boyfriend, we were just up and down as always, but with slightly better communication. My freshman year of college I joined a fraternity, a research lab, and my first hs boyfriend/ex/best friend and I went to a Christian campus place. By second semester, I had a lot of people who knew me and talked to me, but I didn't have any close friends, and even less close friends who were girls. All my close friends who were girls were at another college. My parents were worried about me, so they made me rush a sorority, which I knew was never my scene, but my parents made me join and I found a few girls I liked. Soon I was going to 6 classes, fraternity chapter, research lab meetings, christain crash group meetings, soriorty pledge meetings all on every Tuesday. I was different person at each of these events and wore a different mask. I was having what I know now were autistic burnout meltdowns every single day on the phone in my crusty dorm's stairwell. It was not cute. His mental health had always been bad too. Finally I decide I need to try a psychatrist and go back to therapy, and then he broke up with me. Then I made my first close friend, a guy who was in 3 of classes, and I took him to my fraternity's formal, and then coronavirus happened. Rona kinda saved my grades, and mental health by sending us home event though it did suck. I got on anti-anxiety meds and things went up, but I was still having what I thought were panic attacks, they were austistic meltdowns. My psychiatrist, he's kinda an asshole, he diagnosed me with Obessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. I'll insert definition here: (OCPD) is a personality disorder that's characterized by extreme perfectionism, order, and neatness. People with OCPD will also feel a severe need to impose their own standards on their outside environment.> Basically hr told me I had rules for everything like how everyone drives on the right side of the road, but nobodythinks about it andwhen I broke one of my rules I got depressed, and when wasn't perfect I got depressed, and when I made an A I was relieved not proud. The diagnosis seemed to fit really well, and my therapist and I started working finding my rules, and getting rid of the bad ones, and making the others less harsh. I had thought every once and in a while in my life when I was really upset, what if I'm on the spectrum, because I just felt so hopeless for social interactions and I didn't understand. I always felt like I was a very specific person, but after the ocpd I started thinking more and more, and I saw a tik tok of a girl with lae diagnosed autism basically describing me and ranting about the misogyny. I did more research and I decide, yea I'mm gonna bring it up to mypsychatrist well he's a dick, so he was like um you don't act like sheldon cooper from the Big Bang theory,and I was like wellI just I have always thought I might have adhd like be neureodiverse, and he was like your grade point average in hs was a 97.8%, you're not adhd. I immediately cried, because I can't handle when anyone says anything in a even a slightest stringent tone. I'm baby, I know lmao. It made me angry though because I felt like he just brushed away all of my struggles I had in my whole life. I spent hours researching and typed up a 47 page document on evidence for why I was on the spectrum, and had my parents help will some of checklists to make sure I was getting outside perspectives. I rally my parents to be my back up and next psychiatrist appointment we actually talk about it and he asked my parents questions about when I was young and such and finally he was okay you're on the spectrum. I felt so validated and like I could start being myself. I slowly got more and more confident, changed my style of clothing, and researched more about adhd pushed to be tested, and oh look at that I also have ADHD. So basically discourse: "I feel like as a child I coded a machine to do life for me so I didn’t get bothered except I didn’t know about the machine I thought i was the machine and now I’ve become self aware and I have to learn how to read the code and rewrite the code because it’s dysfunctional because I’m not functioning well as a human being. I was really shy as a child. I would turn beat red when people talked to me or looked at me so I think I started cookie cutting situations and using them over and over again because they worked until I accidentally hard wired these expansion rules and expectations for myself. I didn’t may attention is class ever I just day dreamed and if I got good grades i wouldn’t be bothered i could just stay in my head and if I did my sport well my parents didn’t bother me. I was never asked if I did my homework I just did it so I wouldn’t be asked and have to deal with that situation. I would cookie cutter situations in class that would draw the least attention to myself.
I feel like i don’t have friends I just fulfill the expectation like a side quest on video games" I wrote this down pre autism confirmation when i just thought I had ocpd. Now I don't directly identify with ocpd, but I definitely think I developed that personality disorder a bit from living with undiagnosed autism. I am linking below the very informative Tik Toks by the lovely Paige on autism in girls. The imposter syndrome one really hit home. I had had so many panic attacks about thinking I tricked people into being my friend, or thinking I was smart.
I highly suggest watching these short tik toks, you'll definitely learn something
https://vm.tiktok.com/wVvcYA/
https://vm.tiktok.com/wqRRUf/
https://vm.tiktok.com/wnqhvX/
https://vm.tiktok.com/wqeyYg/
https://vm.tiktok.com/wnoE7u/
https://vm.tiktok.com/Kas6gB/
https://vm.tiktok.com/owM9hs/
Imposter syndrome
I am also linking an article about Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory and Autism that explains why my psychiatrist was wrong, and also I am a girl and the spectrum is called a spectrum because it's a fucking spectrum no two autistic people are exactly the same it's like a color wheel.
http://www.autismsupportnetwork.com/news/problem-sheldon-cooper-and-cute-autism-387783
Here is a fun comic about the spectrum and how to view it.
https://the-art-of-autism.com/understanding-the-spectrum-a-comic-strip-explanation/
I am still learning about myself, and how to be me, and how to be myself but without breaking bad social rules. It's quite humorous though because I'll learn something is related to autism and I'm like oh shit again, like still, like, we're still discovering things.
"Tu ne me manques pas"
Bis später,
Astoria.
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Oliver is autistic, I will die on this hill
by @snavej
Noun
hill to die on (plural hills to die on)
(idiomatic) An issue to pursue with wholehearted conviction and/or single-minded focus, with little or no regard to the cost.
X~X~X
And so our story begins…
Okay, so if you’ve been around the fandom on Tumblr/Fanfiction.net, you will probably have seen me write “Oliver is autistic, I will die on this hill” on a post or story. If you have not, then, you have now. Congrats.
I came to this revelation maybe three years ago now. I had been in a discussion with some fandom friends and something in the conversation had made me wonder if Oliver was autistic.
We’ve all seen the cliche representations of autistic people in the media, especially those coded as such without explicit confirmation. For example, Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory. These characters are often there for comedic value, where we, the audience, laugh at them for their disability. The shows get away with it because they never explicitly state the character is autistic.
I’m getting off track already.
So after the discussion mentioned before, I went away and began my research - to Google! Now, I have to admit, part of my curiosity regarding this matter is because I have been told I write Oliver well. Personally, I feel I write him a little OOC, but I like how I write him so it doesn’t bother me. I write Oliver as a version of myself. So my thought patterns at the time were that if Oliver was autistic, could I be too?
Oh yes, you thought you were just here for an educational piece about autism? Nope, you’re getting the whole damn story as to why I will die on this hill.
So I did my research and I found lists of signs of autism. I devoured internet articles and soon it was all I was interested in. I even bought a book titled ‘Aspergirls’ by Rudy Simone (who is autistic). If any of you read this piece and start wondering if you’re autistic (and you’re female, more on gender later!), I cannot recommend this book highly enough. I literally cried reading it.
The signs!
Okay so what are all these signs, let’s start a list! Autistic people can have:
Rituals that they refuse to change,
Odd or repetitive movements,
Unusual sensory reactions,
Be clumsy or awkward,
Nervous in large social groups,
Have a hard time making friends,
Speak in unusual ways or with an odd tone of voice,
Talk only about themselves/their interests,
Have narrow, often obsessive interests,
Want to be alone, or want to interact but not know how,
Avoid eye contact,
Have a hard time understanding body language,
Have trouble understanding other people’s feelings or talking about their own feelings,
Poor/abnormal posture, often sit on chairs oddly,
Trouble with left, right and other directions,
Large or unique vocabulary,
Lack of organisation,
Intense compassion/empathy,
Intense anger or no anger at all,
Connections with animals,
Difficulty understanding pop culture, styles, trends, etc.
Rigid in their ways,
Easily distressed,
Delayed speech and language,
Lack of imitation of others or imaginative play,
Indifferent to the feelings of others,
Sensitive to light and sound,
Self-stimulatory behaviours (stimming)
Echolalia (repeating or echoing words or phrases)
Unusual emotional responses,
Meltdowns,
Responds adversely to physical affections,
Does not initiate conversation,
Very poor diet,
Frequently walks on tiptoes,
Socially withdrawn/socially awkward,
Self-injurious behaviour,
Makes irrelevant remarks,
Difficulty with abstract language and concepts,
Need for sameness,
Severe upset when routines are disrupted,
Attachment to unusual objects,
Fascination with spinning objects,
Good memory for repeating lists or facts,
Unlikely to discriminate against someone on basis of race/gender/age etc.
Unlikely to give superior status to the wealthy or those high up in an organisation,
Have their own set of values,
Can hyperfocus,
Struggle to separate themselves from their work,
Lack the ability to filter information received,
Alexithymia - the inability to describe emotions in a verbal manner,
Likes patterns, putting things in order,
Often limits diet,
Often wears the same clothes,
Black or white thinking,
Auditory processing disorder…
Okay, I’ll stop there. I could probably go on if I wanted to, because although I’ve written a lot of things there, these are all manifestations of the clinical diagnosis criteria.
X~X~X
Diagnostic Criteria for 299.00 Autism Spectrum Disorder
Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts, as manifested by the following, currently or by history (examples are illustrative, not exhaustive; see text):
Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions.
Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviours used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.
Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understand relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behaviour to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.
Specify current severity:
Severity is based on social communication impairments and restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour.
Restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history (examples are illustrative, not exhaustive; see text):
Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech (e.g., simple motor stereotypes, lining up toys or flipping objects, echolalia, idiosyncratic phrases).
Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behaviour (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat same food every day).
Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).
Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement).
Specify current severity:
Severity is based on social communication impairments and restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour.
Symptoms must be present in the early developmental period (but may not become fully manifest until social demands exceed limited capacities, or may be masked by learned strategies in later life).
Symptoms cause clinically significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of current functioning.
These disturbances are not better explained by intellectual disability (intellectual developmental disorder) or global developmental delay. Intellectual disability and autism spectrum disorder frequently co-occur; to make comorbid diagnoses of autism spectrum disorder and intellectual disability, social communication should be below that expected for general developmental level.
Note: Individuals with a well-established DSM-IV diagnosis of autistic disorder, Asperger’s disorder, or pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified should be given the diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder. Individuals who have marked deficits in social communication, but whose symptoms do not otherwise meet criteria for autism spectrum disorder, should be evaluated for social (pragmatic) communication disorder.
Taken from: https://www.cdc.gov/ncbddd/autism/hcp-dsm.html
X~X~X
Back to the story
So I went to my doctor after all of this reading. I was convinced. Nothing had ever made so much sense to me in my entire life as reading about autism.
I was, at this point, what people in the autism community call “self-diagnosed”. Now I was lucky, I could go on to get a “proper” diagnosis. Not everyone is as lucky. Many doctors do not believe that girls/women can be autistic. Many doctors do not believe that ethnic minorities can be autistic. Many doctors do not believe adults can be autistic. In some countries, people do not have free healthcare and so they cannot afford a diagnosis. There are many reasons why people can’t/won’t get diagnosed.
The point I’m trying to make is that if you see someone posting about being self-diagnosed, don’t be all “oh but a doctor hasn’t said it so you’re not”, because that person does not need your doubt and it does not help anyone. Their self-diagnosis helps them to navigate their life and it does not hurt anyone. Honestly, the amount of people that are “wrong” about their self-diagnosis is probably very small, and those that are probably have some other kind of neurodivergent condition such as ADHD.
Anyway, my doctor gave me a form to fill in, a questionnaire. A series of questions aimed very much at the male expression of autism. I felt horrible at the time, because I knew exactly how to answer these questions to fill the boxes required. I knew because I had read so much about autism that I knew what they wanted to hear.
I filled it in honestly. I scored highly enough anyway.
My doctor did not know who to refer me to. She had never had to refer an adult before. She asked around and found out what to do; I got put on a waiting list.
A while later, at work, I found out I could get tested privately and work would pay for it. Oh, how I love my job. I spoke to someone who had been the manager of another employee who had gone through the process. That helped.
I talked to the man who was supposed to be the disability advisor, he made me fill in the same questionnaire that my doctor did. I filled it in again.
I was on another waiting list.
The advisor had also recommended me a book, which I bought and read and hated. The language used very much implied that I would never be ‘great’, just ‘coping’. It was written by a neurotypical person. I told the advisor by email that this book was stupid and damaging. He did not reply.
Months later, the private assessment happened. I spent an entire day with a clinical psychologist and a speech and language therapist. My parents and manager came too. I answered questions, had to explain things to them, made up stories with random objects. My parents, mainly my mother, talked about my childhood.
At the end of it all, they decided I was autistic.
I was ecstatic.
The day before, a person at work said I was a hypochondriac. One of those people who read about conditions on the internet and convince myself that I have them. I still do not talk to that person.
Finally, everything made sense. Finally, I had a reason why people made fun of me for reasons I could not fathom. Finally, my weirdness had a name.
X~X~X
The Gender Issue
So there is a ‘gender issue’ with autism and it’s diagnosis. Everything is aimed at young (white) boys. It’s designed for the stereotype of the young boy who likes to collect trains. And that’s why there are five times as many autistic boys in comparison with girls.
People of colour, women and girls are very often undiagnosed or misdiagnosed.
Generalised anxiety disorder, depression, OCD, social anxiety disorder, panic disorder, various eating disorders, borderline personality disorder, ADHD…
The list goes on.
Now, that’s not to say many girls don’t have these things. Often they do. But often they have those and autism.
I very much doubt there is five times as many autistic boys. I think there are just a hell of a lot of women and girls who are undiagnosed.
Why this disparity? Well, autism presents differently in girls, or perhaps, society sees it differently.
When a young boy is quiet and withdrawn, happy to play by themselves, something is wrong. When a girl is quiet and withdrawn, she’s just shy. There’s also a lot of evidence to suggest that girls are a lot better at masking their autism.
Essentially, due to the societal pressure on young girls, they hide their autism and mimic their peers. That’s why the most common time for a woman to get diagnosed with autism is when she has children of her own and they’re getting diagnosed.
Is it genetic? There’s no strict evidence of an ‘autistic’ gene, I don’t think. But its quite common. When I was getting tested, I gave the previously mentioned book to my mother and said, “Hey, can you read this, I think I have this”. My mother read the book and told me she thought she had given it to me. She got tested two months ago.
I also look at my father and see many of the traits. But he has no interest in getting tested.
If you’re intersted, google “autism in girls” or something similar, there are plenty of resources.
The result
So I have my diagnosis, my work is fully informed. I am now protected by the Disability Act. I can’t use disabled parking spaces, but some autistic people can, if they need it.
What does this mean for me? It means that my employer has to make adjustments for me to make me comfortable for work. Changing the lighting, giving me a quiet place to work, working with me on deadlines and stuff. They know now (officially) that I have issues with auditory processing, and that they should take that into account.
I’m lucky, my employer has been good about this, and it is in their interest to. Autistic people can be an asset to any company. They are often experts in their chosen field and will work solidly on stuff they enjoy.
Lots of autistic people are not as lucky. They are one of the highest unemployed groups. Workplaces are full of unwritten rules that are hard for autistic people. This brings me on to…
Autism Acceptance Month
April is Autism Acceptance Month. You may see this as Autism Awareness Month in some places. But I don’t like that. “Awareness months” and “awareness days” are often reserved for horrible diseases like cancer, for which we want a cure.
There are a lot of resources out there from damaging institutions this month, such as Autism Speaks. They are advocating for a cure and also promote ABA (a type of ‘therapy’ that is disgusting and should not be allowed). If you take anything from all this, please do not support Autism Speaks.
There is no cure for Autism. It is a developmental disorder. It’s not a disease.
If you wanna do something for Autism Acceptance Month, there are some resources here: https://www.autism.org.uk/get-involved/world-autism-awareness-week.aspx
But what about the vaccines?
Of course, I cannot talk about autism without mentioning the vaccines!
In the 90s, about 1 in 150 children were diagnosed with autism, by the early 2000’s, this went up to 1 in 68. One of the big things that had changed in this time was the number of vaccines children had.
There have been many studies regarding autism and vaccines. And there was one that said there was a link between autism and vaccines. In this study, there were 12 subjects.
Now I do statistics for a day job. So I can tell you categorically, that 12 subjects for a study is not enough for decisive proof. The person who did this study was struck off and rightly so.
But the media got hold of this idea.
And so the anti-vaxxers rose up, refusing to vaccinate their children from deadly diseases because obviously, being autistic was worse than being dead.
In summary, vaccinate your children.
Side note, I, as an autistic person, am allowed to make jokes about vaccines. For example, I received some vaccinations before travelling and joked with the nurse that I was ‘topping up my autism’. This is funny because we both knew it was wrong.
‘Autistic person’ vs ‘person with autism’
This one is a tricky one. I’ve seen arguments both ways.
‘Person with autism’ puts the person first, but also makes the autism sound like an accessory.
‘Autistic person’ puts the disability first, but you can’t separate the person from the autism, it’s intrinsic to who they are.
Basically, this is up to the person. If they prefer one way or the other, use it. It’s like pronouns, you use what the person you’re talking about asks you to use.
Personally, I’m not too fussy, but I lean towards ‘autistic person’.
Asperger’s vs Autism
Asperger’s was merged into the general Autism diagnosis criteria a while back. Asperger’s is what is sometimes called ‘high functioning autism’. The autism community do not like the term ‘high functioning’ because it denies aid, in the same way that ‘low functioning’ denies agency. The criteria for ‘low functioning’ is having an IQ under 70. So it’s quite broad.
Also people who have been classified as ‘high functioning’ don’t necessarily function well in everyday life without help.
Also, Hans Asperger’s was a bit of a knobhead, so a lot of people don’t like using his name.
Headcanons
A headcanon is a fan’s personal, idiosyncratic interpretation of canon, such as habits of a character, the backstory of a character, or the nature of relationships between characters. The term comes from the fact that it is the canon that exists in a fan’s head.
So when I say ‘Oliver is autistic’, this is my personal headcanon. Do I want it to become fanon? Yes, of course, I do. In the same way, I love that Yasuhara x Gene has become popular (for which I take full responsibility).
But if you disagree with it, that’s fine. You’re allowed to do that. I will not think any less of you for it. Because at the end of the day, the author has not come out and said ‘Oliver is autistic’.
Personally, as an autistic writer, who has always written some of her characters as autistic, whether she knew it or not, I suspect the author of Ghost Hunt might be an undiagnosed autistic person. Because Oliver is not the only person I recognise traits in… But that’s for another day.
If you only take one thing away from reading all of this, then let it be this:
If you’ve met one autistic person, that’s it. You have met ONE autistic person.
We’re all different, just like everyone else.
And now for what you’ve all been waiting for…
Continued in Part TWO
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