From the Inside Aut: On Autistic Representation

The character grows comfortable with touch; this correlates with a character arc that involves them growing kinder, warmer, more compassionate, or more “human”

Recommendation: Avoid.

(Seriously, avoid.)

Equates being touch-averse with being cruel, uncaring, and inhuman

Implies that it’s a character flaw to be outgrown or fixed

Implies it can and should be outgrown or fixed

As a concept, full of ableism. So much ableism

Inaccurate, hurtful on all counts

The character grows comfortable with touch from a specific person or group of people; this correlates with increased levels of closeness, trust, and/or emotional intimacy

Recommendation: Tread carefully.

Implies touch-aversion is something to be overcome or fixed with love

Risks supporting myth that it can always be overcome with enough love

Can imply that it must be overcome in order to have a healthy and/or emotionally fulfilling relationship

Inaccurate, potentially damaging on all counts

Someone is very physically affectionate with the character despite their obvious discomfort; this correlates with a narrative about the other caring for them very deeply and wanting to break down their emotional walls or otherwise help them

Recommendation: Tread very carefully.

Plays into the above issues

Depicts a violation of boundaries (no matter how benign the intentions)

Inaccurate, damaging

The character finally willingly submits to physical affection; this is portrayed as particularly heartwarming or a sign of growth

Recommendation: Tread carefully.

Can play into the above issues

Can be patronizing and/or infantilizing

Avoiding common pitfalls**:

The character grows comfortable with touch; this correlates with a character arc that involves them growing kinder, warmer, more compassionate, or more “human”

Option one: Just don’t do it.

Option two: No really, don’t do it.

Option three: I’m serious.

Option four: Don’t.

Secret option five: Do not!!

The character grows comfortable with touch from a specific person or group of people; this correlates with increased levels of closeness, trust, and/or emotional intimacy

Option one: Don’t do it

Option two: Include someone else who stays broadly touch-averse; portray their close relationships as equally healthy and emotionally fulfilling

Option three: Have the characters talk about boundaries; portray it as a process and focus on consent

Option four: Portray the increased comfort as non-absolute even within the relationship(s), even as emotional intimacy increases.

Secret bonus option five: Mix and match!!

Someone is very physically affectionate with the character despite their obvious discomfort; this correlates with a narrative about the other caring for them very deeply and wanting to break down their emotional walls or otherwise help them

Option one: Don’t do it

Option two: Have the narrative criticize the other character’s violation of their boundaries

Option three: Have the other character ask about boundaries first; portray it as a mutually-agreed-upon thing

Option four: Contrast it with other characters who respect their boundaries and are portrayed as better at connecting with and/or helping them

Secret option five: Mix and match!!

The character finally willingly submits to physical affection; this is portrayed as particularly heartwarming or a sign of growth

Option one: Don’t do it

Option two: Have other characters make it clear that they genuinely don’t have to do it; the impending affection is an offer, not a requirement

Option three: Have the character choose to initiate physical affection in a way that’s comfortable for them

Option four: Have the character accept a sign of affection that’s more comfortable for them than the ones previously attempted; portray it as a heartwarming sign of growth on the part of the other characters

Secret option five: Mix and match!!

My personal pet peeves:

Touch-averse character “slowly” grows more comfortable with touch with respect to a specific person; this process takes about a week. Maybe a month, tops

I’m sure it absolutely does work this way for some people!

But in my experience, it definitely does not.

For me, I’d need at least three months of knowing someone before I even thought about hugging them. Likely more (and an extenuating circumstance besides) to actually try

Touch-averse character finds themself utterly comfortable hugging someone they just met because they insta-click

See above

Touch-averse character is suddenly much more (or even completely) comfortable with physical contact the instant they become upset

Again I’m sure it probably does work this way for some people!

But for me, and I’m sure for many others as well, it actually if anything gets kinda worse?

Generally a bad time

Touch-averse character’s touch-aversion is played for laughs

I’m sure there’s a way to do it well, but usually it just comes off rude

Things I’d personally like to see more of:

Touch-averse characters that come with pre-established exceptions

These types of relationships are the most interesting to me. Got that implied pre-existing trust and closeness baked in there, real nice

Also, they feel less like a fixit narrative because we don’t see it happen and the character is still uncomfortable outside of the exception(s)

Touch-averse characters that don’t have any exceptions

Sometimes ppl just don’t have none and it’d be nice to see that u know

Touch-averse characters who are simultaneously touch-starved

I enjoy suffering

Also, it happens

Also also it makes for some nice internal conflict (and external, potentially)

Stories that in some fashion mention why they’re like that

Say the autism word. Say the trauma word. Say the asexual word. The aromantic word. The fibro word. The [insert other word]. Say it

(please. I am begging you.)

Other characters respecting the touch-averse ones’ boundaries

I am a simple person with simple desires

Stories with more than one touch-averse character

I am a simple person with slightly more complex desires,

Stories with touch-averse characters who stay touch-averse

I am a simple,,

In conclusion:

That is all I have

Please go forth into the world and make some sweet sweet touch-averse losers

Thank you for your time

Yes

--

*with the caveat that I am but one single person whose thoughts, opinions, and experiences are very very far from universal; also the caveat that I have admittedly never had occasion to try patting the shoulder of my crying grandma, but have certainly failed to so much as concernedly nudge numerous other weeping loved ones–but that’s less humorously phrased, so I give myself a pass on accuracy in favor of wittiness

It seems like a lot of neurotypicals are under the impression that infodumping is just babbling a series of disjointed fun facts all in a row, out of the blue.

Maybe that’s not the actual impression people have, but that’s what it often seems like, when I’m reading a story with an autistic character that’s written by a neurotypical author (specifically neurotypical, because ADHD authors tend to write autistic infodumping just fine, even though ADHD infodumping is a little different).

Because an awful lot of what I see, as an autistic person reading these stories, is characters suddenly engaging Fun Facts Trivia Mode and spitting out a ream of random information without any elaboration on any particular fact, and without any attempts to connect the individual bits of information together.

And that’s...just not how infodumping actually works, in my experience, either as infodumper or infodumpee.

Which isn’t to say no one infodumps that way! Of course some people do—ADHD folks, especially, will sometimes infodump a bit like that, excitedly spilling a bunch of information about one broad topic and leaping from subtopic to subtopic without verbalizing the connections between them.

But for one thing, the connections are still being made internally, and the writing should still reflect that (a good way to make it do so, I find, is by interspersing dialogue with bits of internal monologue). And for another—that’s ADHD infodumping, not autistic infodumping, so unless your character is both (as they very well might be), I’d recommend against it.

Because autistic people tend to infodump quite differently!

Again, not to say that all autistics infodump in precisely the same way—but there tend to be similarities.

So—with the caveat that I’m speaking in broad strokes here and making some generalizations—three bits of general advice:

One:

Remember that infodumping is not meant to be one-sided. Autistic people aren’t trying to lecture at people when we infodump, we’re trying to share with people. It’s a conversation.

So, like in any other conversation, there should be a logical progression between the things that are said. This means that there should be logical connections between one bit of information and the next on a minute level, not just an overarching one. (For example, if you have your character go from talking about how a cat can see in the dark directly to talking about how a cat always lands on its feet, it is not going to feel—at least to me—like an authentic infodump. But if you have your character go from talking about how a cat can see in the dark to talking about how a cat’s eyes reflect in the dark—that will feel more authentic, because you can see how one thought leads to the next, and it gives more of an impression that the character actually has thoughts and isn’t just mindlessly reciting information.)

Two:

Remember that infodumping isn’t meant to be boring. Autistic people generally know that others aren’t usually quite as excited about our interests as we are, but if we’re infodumping it’s because a) we’re excited, and b) we’re hoping you’ll be excited, too!

So a couple things, here: there should be a sense of excitement to the way the autistic character speaks, and the autistic character should probably check at some point, verbally or otherwise, to see if the other character seems interested. (For example, if you have your character state facts like a robot, or lecture snidely or arrogantly, and not show any signs of excitement, and also not notice or care at any point, even after the fact, whether their conversational partner was interested, it’s probably not going to be very convincing—again, at least to me. But if you have your autistic character talk while grinning or bouncing or flapping their hands—even if they speak in a monotone—it’ll feel more real. And if you have your character check in, even belatedly, to see if others are interested, they’re going to feel more real—more like a person who’s had years of lived experience being told they’re annoying for infodumping, like most autistic people have, rather than like a caricature made up solely of DSM-V traits.)

Three:

Remember that infodumping isn’t meant to be shallow. It’s called infodumping for a reason—we’re ready to drop a whole lot of stuff and get really deep into things. So elaboration is key! (For example, if you have your character state a bunch of loosely connected surface facts about cats, it’s not—again, to me—going to feel very authentic. But if you have your character share that factoid about cat’s eyes reflecting in the dark and then talk at length about tapetum lucidum and how it works and why, and why different animals’ eyes glow different colors, and what fictional species they like to think might have it as well—that rings more true.)

So, to sum up:

One: Infodumping is a conversation—it should read as fluidly as any other!

Two: Infodumping is sharing—we’re excited and want you to be excited to!

Three: Infodumping is deep lore—elaboration is key!

Remember those bits and you should do just fine.

And each one is your very first pair, conceptually speaking. Each one is a lens, as it were, through which to view the world writ large; each grants you awareness of new details and concepts; and each serves as a catalyst for insights which bring more nuanced and clear understandings of the world, your community within it, and yourself.

After reading extensively about autism from autistic perspectives, for example, I found myself noticing autism-related things everywhere—among them, the prevalence of functioning labels in allistic, or non-autistic, discussions about autistic people. I’d been aware of the trend before, but with my blurry view had seen nothing wrong with it. After researching and strapping on my “autism glasses,” however, it became crystal clear, and I began to form connections between research and reality. The connection, in this case, allowed me to see that functioning labels are both inaccurate—autism is like a circular color spectrum, not a linear gradient from “tragic thing” to “basically normal”—and disrespectful—they are often used to dismiss autistic people’s voices on the grounds that they are either too low- or high-functioning to have an opinion.

On a broader level, I formed a connection between this inaccurate disrespect and the concept of ableism—and began to see, in this and many other ways, how ingrained it is in our society. I also came to understand that my previous perception of both it and disability had been fundamentally flawed—blurrier than a park in a snowstorm at ninety miles an hour—though it now seemed clear as day, my world transformed and its pervasive inequality laid at my feet.

In short, I developed a clearer, more nuanced understanding of both disability and its relation to society, and so my worldview shifted—explicitly because my increased awareness of recently-amassed facts caused me to see related concepts everywhere and interpret those with said facts in mind.

In this way, education gives people new frameworks which better enable them to understand the world around them by spotting patterns related to the education-subject and analyzing them on both narrow and broad conceptual levels.

Education doesn’t limit itself to only the world writ large, though; the frameworks it gives us are as applicable narrowly as they are widely, and can be used on smaller scales, to make further connections within, for example, one’s own community. These connections can be—and indeed often are—the same as the societal discoveries, but in miniature. When I looked at my personal community through my autism glasses, for example, I discovered ableism in places I’d never expected: my sister using the aforementioned functioning labels, my mother claiming that “everyone is a little autistic,” and my doctor supporting hate-group-disguised-as-charity Autism Speaks. Critical framework application revealed that each of these examples mapped onto ableist ideas in larger society; in this way, education enables one to see connections not only between what they have learned and their communities, but between said communities and the world.

Yet the new connections formed on this level need not be related to such overarching themes; they can occur on entirely new tracks, and are just as often based in individual details. Such was the case when I looked at other individuals through my autism glasses: I recognized echolalia in my younger sister—that being a fancy word for repeating things you’ve heard others say as a means of communicating, and often easier for autistics than creating novel sentences. Before I recognized it, I often found myself somewhat unsure how to figure out what my sister wanted. Afterward, though, it was easy to see that I just needed to take a more active role in the conversation, both to understand her and to give her new words to echo. In this way, I made a connection not only between the information I’d read about autism and my own autistic sibling, but between her experiences and my actions—specifically, the ways my actions could affect her experiences.

Thus, education as a framework enables people to form more nuanced understandings not only of the other people in their communities and said people’s relationships to the framework-subject, but also their own relationships to their communities and the ways in which they can interact with them.

This holds true regardless of the subject matter, because human nature demands that we apply new information to old, to compare and contrast, and above all to do so with the things which matter most to us.

Relatedly, and perhaps most importantly, the various frameworks education provides us with can be—and often are, consciously or otherwise—applied to ourselves. This is due to the aforementioned human tendency to personalize everything and interpret information through the doubled-up lenses of the framework in question plus our own experiences. Such application often results in new insights into ourselves, on a variety of levels ranging from minor to overwhelmingly significant.

For instance, while researching autism, I found myself applying the framework to my own life. In doing so, I discovered that autistic experiences—and indeed the official diagnostic criteria—mapped easily onto my own life, habits, and personality; among many other things, I discovered that I use echolalia like my sister, just in a more delayed fashion; that I favor repetition in all aspects of life; and that my social skills are learned. I discovered, in short, that I am autistic.

This discovery completely altered my self-perception and sense of identity as I went from a fuzzy sense that I was weird and somehow broken to the crisp realization that I am disabled, certainly, but need no fixing—am merely different, not less, as per the disability theory aspect of the framework. And so, as a direct result of my research, my sense of identity shifted utterly and for the better—perhaps in a more dramatic fashion than that of the average educational experience, but nonetheless in a manner exemplary of education’s potential to alter our understandings of ourselves.

This potential, it must be stressed, holds true even in more rigidly academic settings, as seen when history students grasp parallels between their own actions in the present day and others’ from decades past.

Education in all its forms and degrees of personal intensity, then, encourages us to examine ourselves as well as our various surroundings, resulting in insights which allow increased clarity, nuance, and connection to new concepts in our self-perception.

Said insights don’t end there, however—they often extend beyond ourselves and back to other perceptual shifts, to encompass our understandings of ourselves in relation to our communities and broader society.

For example, after I discovered that I am autistic, I proceeded to reexamine my interactions with others in this context. This reexamination revealed that my communication style is more different from most people’s than I’d realized, given my repetitive speech and difficulty saying what I mean; in this way, the educative framework allowed me to more accurately view myself in relation to others—and to accept this view as per the aforementioned disability framework. This combined realization and acceptance enabled me to discover how to better express myself in ways that are comfortable to me and understandable to others.

Thus education can influence interactions with one’s community, not just understanding of it and oneself. Likewise it can influence interactions with one’s world writ large by better illuminating one’s place within it—in my case, allowing myself to be visibly autistic in defiance of a primarily ableist society, but in other cases, of course, different interactions and roles.

In this way, education functions as a framework for understanding not just the world and not just ourselves, but our roles within it and the ways in which we interact with it.

Thus, in myriad ways, education serves as a framework, a positioner, and a pair of glasses to hold up to each subcategory of our personal universes and to the relationships between them, the better to understand them and their intricacies in ways we previously had not considered.

Education clarifies, it illuminates, it diversifies, and it does so with attention to the smallest detail, bringing our experience of life into a newer, sharper focus. And with every educational experience we have, we gain another framework, another pair of glasses, which we can consider separately or together, swapping frames and stacking them, continuously, to gain ever-more-nuanced understandings of our worlds and our lives and how they might relate.

E52:

“i guess a lot of you is up here?” “eh…it’s, all of me is up here” so on the one hand this refers specifically to caleb’s strengths lying mostly in intellectual areas, but on the other this is a Whole-Ass Autistic Mood, so,

caleb drops a whole lot of lore in a short amount of time. that’sa infodump

E53:

can’t cope w/fond embarrassment feelings of “that’s not actually your name though”? Time To Walk Off

can’t cope w/profound guilt re: being reminded abt the bloodletting thing? Time To Walk Off

Return Of The Cat Special Interest

E54:

Very Hard To Change Own Accent

“you need to get your eyes checked, there is literally mud caked in my hair”; a) blunt, & b) missed the implied message of I’m Bout To Fuck U Up

E41:

awkward and formal during the conversation with caduceus, & ends it abruptly with “okay i feel like shit so i’m going to bed”; arguably liam is narrating rather than having caleb say this out loud but consider: it’s funnier if caleb actually says it & also it would be entirely in-character, so

“i feel like a fool much of the time” mmmmmm mood

caleb asks, abt jester magically filling his hands w/water, “is this a custom??” & believes it when she unconvincingly says yes

E42:

caleb struggles to switch over to the codenames & when he does manage to avoid using proper names, it’s through the whole “the blue one” sort of deal that he uses to avoid saying the names of ppl not present

can we claim that all-nighter w/the cipher for some sweet sweet autistic hyperfocus? bc i would like to do the that

E44:

uses the same phrasing over & over when asking for permission to use suggestion on nott– “if you will allow me”

E45:

caleb looks real uncomfy every time twiggy does a physical affection

E46:

“lotta books. lotta books lotta books” echo echo echo times

talks even more monotone than usual for nearly the entire episode

E47:

“caleb sits down in the muck”; mmmmmm he does the whole crash-on-the-spot thing whenever he gets real hurt, and none of the others rly do except beau (who’s also autistic), so it makes me think of shutdowns

caleb seems to have not understood or internalized what nott told him before abt her past, & asks the same questions multiple times in different ways over the course of the conversation; seems slow to process this Feelings-Flavored Information, & that in turn………seems autistic

E48:

caleb: what about outside the chateau, did u go out to play? jester: no caleb: …….well let’s see if they have books inside!

the entire improv poetry sequence, but esp. the end where he just runs out of brain & bluntly goes “i want to leave now”

caleb, on the differences between the tower and a dick: one is a building

jester: do u want any company like someone to watch over ur shoulder while u read maybe ;)))) caleb, missing the subtext: i will feel a little uncomfortable…who are we talking about. you??

nott: caleb will know what to say beau [paraphrased]: he isn’t good at….ppl

goes semiverbal when yussa first addresses him, twice says “mm”

“i really don’t like dogs i’m sorry” sensory bad probably, bc dogs are loud

“i don’t people very well, all right, it’s been a long time since i had a lot of practice” needing practice to people well? autistique

very agitated stimming during that conversation w/beau

halting speech also; sounds like he was still semiverbal but forcing himself to talk anyway

going to go scream at the trees afterward bc emotional overload

nonverbal during the whole bit with nott

would u like some shutdown w/ur panic attack & dissociation

E49:

avoids eye contact for most of the Emotional Discussion, & then at one particular point makes Significant & Pointed Eye Contact W/Beau

takes a Long Time to work up the words for the conversation; semiverbal….hard time talking abt emotions……………….

E50:

E31:

i’m trying not to repeat the same things over & over if caleb does them routinely, but it’s worth noting that caleb counts out nearly 1000 gold

the fuckin. exchange where beau’s forced to read & caleb gives her a delighted thumbs up, oblivious to her mood & she flips him off & he belatedly is like “..oh. oh no” & hurriedly turns back to his book

E32:

after finding the fancy gems, caleb “starts to quietly dance around”; celebratory stim dance strikes again!!

E33:

caleb’s got a very exaggerated startle response when fjord sneaks up on him in the ocean; ptsd & autism overlap space strikes again

when nott lies abt there being a guy in the cell w/them for post fraud, caleb immediately & quietly goes “we were the only 2 people in that cell”; hello again autistic urge to Correct

marion, about caleb: you, i can sense, a bit rough in the social graces, so i am very honored that you would come to see my performance

beau: okay, once again with the shade towards trying to climb the tower caleb: it is open shade, beauregard, because it has nothing to do with what we are trying to do today. i am not hiding my shade, it is out, i am providing shade for you. we have something to do! yeah, i am blotting out the sun, we have shit to do!

E34:

“also, speaking from experience, sometimes when you’re very focused on a task, it can create a blind spot”; listen, i realize this is a terrible terrible pun & may not even have been in-character necessarily, but it’s also a huge autistic mood, & so here it will stay

E35:

“i’m going to attempt to do that thing I’ve seen beauregard do so many times and foof up my biceps and look intimidating”; mimic mimic

E36:

caleb doesn’t seem to grasp that beau is morally conflicted & attempts to reassure her in Exactly the wrong way; doesn’t read the signs right

nott suggests faking a heart attack, & caleb says “i don’t know if you’re joking or not, but i’m going to do it”

caleb Shares The Emotional Support Cat to Express Affection/Gratitude

another hug where caleb looks super uncomfortable

E37:

while fjord & avantika talk, caleb interjects like “yeah i’m sorry, you have a very thick accent. sometimes it is–i’m losing a couple of things here and there, no offense”; local wizard cannot read the room & also consistently has a hard time understanding new accents? there’s arguably out-of-universe reasons, but consider: in-universe, it’s a combo of “common is his second language” & also that good ol APD

E38:

“as i chew on some licorice root”; he doesn’t cast any spells just chews on it (like, the next thing he casts is detect magic iirc, but u don’t need licorice root for that so this is genuinely sth he’s doing Just Because), & so: stim!

uncomfortable again w/removing his books

E39:

E21:

“this is a very tactless question, but you are talking about the Scaled Tyrant and you also are sporting some scales. is that a coincidence or are they related?” knowing sth is tactless but not knowing how to soften the words? uhhhhhh mood

overexplains the whole mighty nein thing. again

E22:

“you’re not very good at finding traps, but everything else you’re quite good at”; straightforward honesty, not intended to sting just stated as fact

the entire beau & caleb hug sequence; looks uncomfy, is touch-averse

E23:

script of “i defer to the group” appears again as it does in many episodes

nott, abt beau: you think she was dropped on her head or something? she’s just very sort of…you know… caleb: i mean i think u and i are a little ‘eh’ in our own particular way a) Nott That’s Rude, & b) caleb as good as says that he & nott. are nd

nott, about caleb: sometimes when he stares at you and doesn’t say anything he is talking to u

fjord says he’s “not much of a shopper” & caleb goes “same same”

“caleb is futzing again with the rock and just sort of massaging the four days of stubble that he has grown back”; stim!

“during all of that yammering on the way up, i look over at yasha and sigh out”; yasha goes “yeah. a little crazy?” & caleb goes “that’s it”; Too Loud

E24:

caleb: i was planning to go out, but it’s awkward for me. i thought you would be going yasha: it’s awkward for me, too caleb: i thought that we could give each other moral support, you know what i mean?

“he doesn’t deal well with harsh criticism all the time“; self-loathing & trauma yes, but also. the RSD-adjacent thing lotsa autistics have

E25:

beau picks up ball bearings & caleb starts counting them

E26:

keg: i’m not good at people nott: beau is terrible with relationships and social interactions beau: that’s clearly why we got off to a great start. sorry caleb: i’m not very good at it either

caleb, abt the abandoned house, immediately: are there any books??

“i think there is a young child that’s in danger there. we seemed to care about the bird child, maybe we care about this one? i don’t know,” caleb says, uncertain, & then when nott is like “yes of course we care” he immediately about-faces & is like “of course!! we’ve got to act right now!!!!” & hey wow. absorbing others’ opinions? using others as baselines for How To Do Caring? that’s autistic

E27:

walks away from nott bc runs out of cope for conversation

has trouble saying the “love” word again & possiblydoesn’t feel the love emotion as quickly as others

has panic attack after talking to ophelia; unusual social situation + taking position of authority = Big Hhhh; overlap between Trauma & Autism again

nott: you were great in there. you were great! you handled yourself so well! man you were rock-solid in there! caleb: stop it. i am nauseous. let’s go kill a bunch of people

when he eats the goodberry, he makes a Very Exaggerated Face & says “it’s sour”; those are some Sensory Issues

E28:

beau: we should’ve found a better analogy caleb: than the onion? well, how about we’re just going to kill the people on the wall, how is that for a metaphor?

“waiting very anxiously for my life partner”; sure it’s combat-related concern but! as noted in the op, this isn’t the first time caleb has panicked when separated from nott. & thus i propose: a) separation anxiety & b) nott is, for caleb, That One Person y’latch onto & follow in social situations (& also new/anxiety-inducing situations) bc Easier W/Them Nearby

E29:

stutters before saying that he’s gonna head down first

“i used to have a cat, but i do not any longer–” this somehow manages to be both over- and under-explaining, in that the information isn’t necessary, and he also doesn’t explain that his cat is a familiar/would’ve been useful

during the fight, keeps echoing variations of “this is going very well………”

E30:

“i rub my thumb along the lucky rock in my pocket”

caleb talks w/beau while “staring out the window, not even looking at [her]” (eye contact? in MY serious conversations? it’s less likely than u think)

beau: cool caleb, echoing exaggeratedly: cooool

EPISODE ELEVEN:

caleb compliments & asks abt the origins of the shopkeep’s (heavy) sweater & then remembers manners & is like “sorry, what’s your name?”

the entire bread-as-mitts exchange, but esp. when jester goes “why didn’t you just light your hands on fire instead of putting it in bread?” & caleb’s all “i would’ve burned the bread and then i couldn’t eat it, it’s simple!”

“anyway should we go?” “should we go?”; echolalia

EPISODE TWELVE:

y’know that thing where many autistics talk in a weird mashup of hyper-formal & super informal speech? casually using, like, SAT words right up alongside colloquialisms & memespeech? that thing? yeah, caleb does that a lot. in like, virtually every episode. incl. this one, where he says, w/utmost seriousness: “i understand that these two are really busting your balls, and i commiserate with that, but we do need in fact to ask”

EPISODE THIRTEEN:

caleb talks to skull. caleb makes the skull talk back. autistics tend to have fewer qualms abt talking to inanimate objects, & so here we are

also, nott says “i think what would make it work is letting them take the lead a bit, and following” & from this point forward caleb’s internal rule of I Must Defer To The Group gets Even More Solid

“i think you may have guessed it before now, but i care a great deal for you” he talks around the Love Word, which is super relatable bc that word is. A Lot. hard to verbalize

“i pick her up and i just hug her. i just hug her” sometimes Gestures are easier than Words u know

EPISODE FOURTEEN:

fjord: [yasha] doesn’t like the spotlight caleb, commiseratingly: attention’s a bitch, isn’t it?

EPISODE FIFTEEN:

caleb gets “super intense with his shit [when he casts detect magic]” & barely notices the others heading to the door; hyperfocus? hyperfocus!!

EPISODE SIXTEEN:

“caleb is chewing on his finger and looking through the book”; stimmable

[after jester’s “special package” comments] “and i’m like red-faced, and i stare at myself, like dead expression, for 30 seconds”; flat. affect

caleb is “wide-eyed and not responding” after absorbing the mote & nott’s like “he can’t speak anymore, he’s forgotten– […] he’s lost all language”; can be reasonably assumed nott is Aware that’s a thing that happens

EPISODE SEVENTEEN:

“about seven feet away, out of habit, caleb just starts going ‘one two three four…’”

EPISODE EIGHTEEN:

caleb: nott usually stabs someone when we do that beau: ok but u can shift that to suit this new context right. like u can do that right. like. like a) difficulty adjusting to suit new context, difficulty w/change…….., & b) beau asks bc she, an autistic, can easily tell that caleb is autistic y/y?

EPISODE NINETEEN:

“caleb is stress chewing on the licorice root that he used to cast the spell”

when mentioning jester, he calls her “the blue one” rather than her name; seems to me it might be related to the thing where names just like. feel Too Personal To Say? maybe. potentially

nott’s all “i think i was probably stealing some food or sth” & caleb goes “you told me it was cherry wine”; friendly teasing + Urge To Correct

EPISODE TWENTY:

once again shares the emotional support stim cat, this time w/kiri!

EPISODE ONE:

There isn’t much here in episode one, but there is this:

Caleb uses stereotypically autistic speech patterns in the very first conversation he has in the show. Nott draws it to a close with “All right, well, that’s on the to-do list,” and Caleb immediately mirrors her phrasing with “All right, well, let’s get something to eat then.”

Later, down in the bar, Beau asks Nott if she is cold. Caleb misinterprets this to mean “Why are you wrapped up?” and subsequently explains, very defensively, that Nott is a goblin and obviously goblins are not well-liked in these parts and that is why she is wrapped up and Beau should drop it—which is, uh, pretty much the definition of blunt oversharing, no?

Caleb also, for the first time, shares his magic cat with someone else as an expression of kindness and a kind of second-hand socializing. Beau notes immediately that it’s “kind of therapeutic”; right away, Frumpkin is coded as an emotional support animal. (It helps that he takes Frumpkin absolutely everywhere, often choosing to carry him on his shoulders when he can just as easily pop him in and out of the general vicinity with a snap of his fingers.)

Still later, Jester rearranges one of the shops they visit, and Caleb grows nervous the moment he notices it (“A bit of nerves begin to brew up”). On the one hand, this is probably because he’s afraid of getting in trouble with the shopowner, but on the other: getting anxious at the sight of slight changes in your surroundings is pretty quintessentially autistic.

EPISODE TWO:

Caleb offers to give Nott his cat as a distraction from her urges to steal. Once again, Frumpkin is coded as an emotional support animal. And, on top of this, Caleb seems to hold the idea that—well, he helps me, so obviously he’ll help you too!

Nott reassures Caleb that they can leave the group at the drop of a hat if they need to. “They’ll never know who we were,” she says. “...Caleb and Nott,” he says, responding both literally and with a touch of confusion.

Caleb calls a man’s novel “trashy” and seems to realize a second too late that it was rude; he tacks on a very hasty “No judgement.”

Caleb compliment’s Beau’s muscles very awkwardly.

Caleb goes on to say, “We have been in the woods for too long. I’ve forgotten how to talk to people.” And sure, spending time away from society can make people a little weird. But needing practice to maintain basic social skills like complimenting people? Sounds autistic.

Caleb says, later, “I don’t know what you just said, but I am interested in books. Particularly in the arcane realm, but any kind of book.” That ticks two boxes at once: auditory processing troubles and special interests.

At one point, Beau references Frankenstein and Caleb doesn’t understand what she’s saying. It’s possible, out-of-universe, that this was a meta reference to Frankenstein not existing in the story’s universe, but consider—in-universe, Beau must have referenced the story world’s equivalent of Frankenstein, and Caleb did not get that reference. Therefore: Caleb is not only having difficulty following her metaphor, but he’s missed a pop culture reference.

EPISODE THREE:

caleb is nonverbal after he “gets over [his reaction to casting firebolt]”; he “doesn’t say anything, but starts pushing bodies onto the back of the cart”

stays nonverbal for A While; “during all the busywork, i’m not saying anything, but i keep giving worried and stressed glances at my little friend”

in the middle of planning, with zero transition or context, caleb goes, “also i have a cat” and doesn’t offer context til jester goes ?? yes he’s cute?

gets excited & dances in the street w/nott on his shoulders (stim!!)

nott, when caleb ignores jester in favor of reading: he gets like this when he’s studying. he gets very focused, it’s best not to disturb him

“i prefer him as a cat, to be honest, but in a pinch–” change Bad, cat Good

when jester braids caleb’s hair, liam says “it feels nice”; Sensory Good

“i’m a good talker when i have to be”; qualifies the statement, implying it’s an occasional mask he dons when Necessary

E4:

nott: no one’s going to be around to save you if you get into trouble caleb: i’m almost dead already nott: yeah, that’s not good jester: that’s not comforting, caleb

at the very end of caleb’s conversation w/the guard, liam says caleb looks him in the eye, which implies he was Avoiding eye contact before that

caleb, in court, bluntly: i’m a dirty hobo and i reek like yesterday’s garbage

caleb, abruptly: well, you know, this is very fascinating, but i have some errands to run. nott, would you like to run errands with me? we are totally coming back and not leaving on our own undercover

caleb calls the old shopkeep “grandfather”; he does this with other elderly folks in later episodes too [the woman in the melora statue; madam musk], even when he knows their names. seems like maybe an internal rule that he has to refer to old folks this way bc it’s Respectful?

caleb, overexplaining: this is called a bath nott: i’ve heard of them caleb, still overexplaining: a hot bath

E5:

caleb: before i go away, am i looking for anything specific? beau: just people coming caleb, echoing: people coming…

caleb ducks back behind a corner mid-fight & says “nein nein nein"; repetitive speech

caleb later ducks back behind the same corner & says “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”; Big Autistic Mood

coin-counting!!

E6:

[abruptly] “well, my social anxiety is getting the best of me. i’m taking a walk. goodbye” + brisk exit

“sorry, my curiosity gets the best of me, always”; blurts out questions

caleb realizes belatedly that his question abt alfield giving them extra coin was callous, goes “it’s asking a bit much, i was too forward”; low empathy

“i’’m sorry, it’s very noisy in the shop. what did you say?”; APD

the whole conversation in the shop caleb is just–super blunt. “i’ve been on the road a long time and i’m carrying a smell with me, if you cannot tell" “to the point, i like it” “i don’t mean cheap shit” “well, it’s a barn, ja?”

caleb, on being reminded that people are dying: maybe i can put [turning frumpkin back into a cat] on hold, although i really hate to (emotional support animal + Different Is Bad + low empathy)

“we can do both, but there is a timestamp on the people. we should take care of the people first, because then we’re increasing how much gold we will bring in, because if they die then we will not get as much money for them if they are alive”; low empathy + extreme practicality

E7:

“yes, handle this [grievously injured] child, but then we’re very curious to ask a couple–i’ll shut up”; [sing-song voice] low empathy……

caleb: you know, it’s funny, because only about 30 minutes ago i also had a bird, but he was obliterated beau: oh, that’s right caleb: it was very sad. i’ll bring him back tomorrow shakaste: thanks for that caleb, oblivious: he and i, we are [crosses fingers] like that

E8:

jester: well, she’s mostly known for her hmm-hmm-hmm. outside of that, her voice is amazing, you should hear her sing caleb: what does that mean? jester: what does what mean? caleb: hmm-hmm-hmm

E9:

feel like it’s worth noting this is the episode where beau tells caleb “maybe you would know what we’re up to if you went along with the group for once!” & from there on out p much invariably caleb makes it a point to step back & go along wherever the group wants. so–internal rule!

“i’ve got to stop complimenting you, it does not lead to good moments” + immediately walks away

beau, shouting: he said enTHUSIASM! caleb, jumping & cringing: ohH jeez!!

caleb sees that yasha is uncomfortable w/jester hugging her & does an Understanding Nod; yasha says, “i’m very uncomfortable with human touch” & caleb goes “i feel like i know you better now”; reads as Same Hat

gets angry at jester. swipes mud down his face in a wordless fuck-you. doesn’t rly align w/any specific autistic traits but listen. listen. does that seem like the kind of thing a neurotypical would do? i don’t think so.

E10:

molly pins caleb to the wall & caleb does not make eye contact or speak

That’s not to say it can’t be an isolating experience, because it absolutely can. It absolutely can, and from what I gather from other autistics it very often is.

But it’s not an isolated one.

You know, it doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

Because it’s like this, you know. Identities are intersectional. Experiences overlap, and they influence each other, and they become this great big tangled web of stuff and it’s impossible to unravel it all entirely. Because, you know, that’s you. That’s your life. You can’t just dissect it down into neat little bits and pieces and line it all up and have it make perfect individual sense.

Lives don’t work that way. Brains don’t work that way. So of course neither do people.

Take me, for example.

Let’s go back to the thing from before. The thing about how being autistic can be an isolating experience. Let’s talk about that.

Let’s talk about that, and me, and my experience.

Because the thing, here, with me, is that growing up I absolutely did not feel isolated.

I felt different, for sure, and so many autistic people talk about feeling different.

But the thing is, i’ve heard so many of those same autistic people (not all of them, but many) talk about not understanding why. About assuming the problem was with them, about assuming that everyone experienced things the same way but only they struggled with it, about assuming it was down to some kind of personal weakness or innate weirdness or brokenness or wrongness. I’ve heard a lot about that.

But the thing is, the thing is, for me, it wasn’t like that.

I grew up feeling different, but I never wondered why. I never had to wonder.

Because I wasn’t autistic in a vacuum. I was autistic smack in the middle of my life, and my experiences, and my family and my other identities and all that sort of thing—and my life and my experiences and my other identities were also atypical.

So when I felt different, when I felt other, when I felt just a little bit off-center and out-of-place, I didn’t ever wonder at it. It was just a thing, it was just of course. It was because of all my other atypicalities.

It was because I was adopted, it was because I was white and my family was black and no other families around us were like that, it was because I loved to read so much, it was because I was so smart, it was because I was so short, it was because i’d come from an abusive household, it was—later—because I had so many siblings, it was because I was weird on purpose because that was cool, it was because I was mature, it was—even later—because I was asexual, it was because I had a lot more going on than my classmates (who of course I never considered might have anything of their own going on), it was because I was aromantic, it was because I was maybe nonbinary, it was because I had social anxiety, it was because, because, because—

It was because a lot of things, and never, ever, ever because there was something wrong with me.

And it was never bad.

Because I was different, and i’d been raised with the belief that differences were good, and important, and special, and cool.

And I didn’t—i never, in all that time, thought that my feeling different from my peers was because I might be autistic.

—and that’s not to say I never wondered whether I might be. I did. A number of times, actually, growing up.

The first, fleeting time came after my mom told me my little sister had asperger’s (still a diagnosis back then) but didn’t tell me what the hell that meant (except that it was why she walked funny sometimes, and why she had trouble telling what was right and wrong to do sometimes).

So I googled it, as you do.

And as I was reading, I thought—oh. So that’s what that is. And I thought—huh. Some of this sounds kind of familiar. Some of it sounds kind of maybe like me.

And then I thought—nah. That’s not really like you at all, you just want to be different and special. (Because that was good and important and cool, remember, and the differences I already had were the things I liked most about myself—my oddball family, my being adopted, my slightly-crooked fingers….)

And then I brushed it aside and didn’t think about it again for years.

Until I did some research after reading some things some folks wrote about Sherlock Holmes seeming autistic. And then I thought about it a little more, off and on. (Could I be this? Wouldn’t it be cool if I were this?)

But again I thought. No. I can’t be this. I only want to be this so I can be different another time over. These experiences aren’t really mine, I can’t really relate, i’m lying.

And then I thought—

I just want attention, obviously.

And then I thought—

Does that even make sense if I haven’t actually told anyone I’m thinking about it?

And then I thought—

Don’t be stupid, of course it does.

And I brushed it aside again.

But it didn’t sit dormant for years, this time. It didn’t sit idle and dissipate into nothing. It kept coming back. I kept wondering. Quietly, quietly, for years.

Until one day something happened.

I said that I didn’t care about something, and my brother, in a moment of frustration, said that of course I didn’t, because I didn’t care about anything or anyone.

In his defense, I said it pretty snappishly. And, in I’d been saying it a lot in general. (I go through periods of time where I latch onto different phrases and repeat them to death—hello, echolalia—and at the time one of my phrases was “I care not,” and variations.)

But (fair response or no) it stung. Sort of struck home.

And I felt—well. I felt wrong. I felt wrong, not quite right, not quite human. Somehow broken, other, different in a way that was not good, for the first time.

I felt like I was doing caring wrong, like I was faking it, like I was always only ever playing a part and didn’t really care about people.

And that terrified me.

Because I still didn’t connect it to autism. Even though I’d been wondering about it off and on for years by that point, even though I knew differences in expressions of caring and differences in empathy to be common autistic experiences, even though though I knew both experiences to be morally neutral, even though, even though, even though—

I still didn’t.

Because autism doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

And so I immediately, automatically, instinctively connected it to something else. Some other difference of mine. A very old, very particular one.

I connected it, instantly, to my early childhood trauma. To the cold, uncaring birthparents I lived with before I was adopted.

I assumed it was a sign that I was like them, on some level. That I had absorbed, in those early years, some awful tendencies.

And so I was terrified.

Terrified, until—

A friend of mine stepped forward and said to me, hey, it sounds like maybe you express empathy differently? And maybe you’re worried that you don’t because you mostly see other people express it in more typical ways? And maybe you have some kind of brainweird that makes you express empathy differently?

And I thought—

Oh.

And I thought—

Well.

And I thought—

Thank god.

Because here was a reason that kind of made sense, and didn’t make me a monster. And here was a reason to consider autism more thoroughly, and do some real research, and maybe come to a real consensus about what the fresh hell was going on with my brain.

And so I researched. And I researched. And I researched. I read the diagnostic criteria, I read autistic people’s blogs, I read autistic people’s stories, I read autistic people’s proposed revisions to the criteria, I watched autistic people’s videos, I watched autistic people’s lectures, I scoured websites of organizations run by autistic people—

And I took a few online tests, and I read some more, I made a few lists of all the traits I had and compared them to the things I’d read, and I read some more, and I made a few more lists, and I read some more, and back and forth and back and forth and over and over and over—

Because I thought, having done all that research and introspection and everything, I thought probably there was a decent chance that maybe...?

But I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t be sure, because it didn’t exist in a vacuum. There was a great big tangled web of stuff to untangle, so many threads I could hardly tell where to begin.

I was touch-averse, sure, and that was a common autistic trait—but was I touch-averse because I was autistic, or because of trauma, or because of being asexual, or because of being aromantic, or because of being anxious?

And I struggled with socializing, sure, and that was a common autistic trait—but was it because I was autistic, or because of having social anxiety, or because of trauma, or because of growing up in a kind of isolated rural community?

And I flinched at loud noises, sure, and that could be autism too—but was it, or was it just the trauma again, or was it plain anxiety, or was it just faking?

(Again and again, I reminded myself—it  can’t be faking if you haven’t actually told anyone you think you’re autistic. Faking requires an audience.)

And I’d had those hours-long screaming fits when I was little, but—was that autism or just trauma, or just anger issues, or just general bratty tantrums?

And I stimmed all the time, but—was that autism, or just anxiety, or maybe ADHD, or was it just being kind of fidgety?

And I had pretty strong food sensitivities, but—was that autism, or was that somehow the trauma again, or just being a picky eater?

And I struggled with eye contact, sure, but—was that autism, or was that the social anxiety again, or was that the trauma, or was I just inventing the problem entirely even to myself?

And I struggled to speak sometimes, sure, and to keep from accidentally interrupting in conversations, but—was that the autism, or was that the social anxiety, or was that the lifetime of growing up with a zillion siblings and either getting steamrolled over or steamrolling over someone else, or—?

And so on and so forth, for a dozen other traits and more, because none of them existed in isolation and all of them could’ve been something else. They could’ve been something else.

Ultimately—after several autistic people told me I seemed autistic, over a period of a couple years, and after bringing up the possibility with a therapist and being told that it made sense—I realized that yes, of course they all could’ve been something else, of course there were tons and tons of factors to consider, of course, of course—

But there was no reason autism couldn’t be one of them.

If I could accept that asexuality, aromanticism, and trauma all factored into my touch-aversion—all three things all at the same time—why couldn’t autism do so as well? Why not? What was one reason more?

And after I entertained that idea, it was easy to acknowledge that I had many traits and experiences which autism could be a factor in—too many to be entirely coincidental. Too many to be coincidental at all.

So I could accept it, then. It was easy.

I was—am—autistic.

I just wasn’t—am not—only autistic.

And neither, of course, is anyone else.

Because autism doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

And neither do autistics.

Allie can carry a conversation. She went to a good university and got good grades. She transitioned from student housing to her own apartment, and held down a part-time job all through school. She now has an internship in a special-interest-related field, works freelance on the side, and is independently paying off her student loans. She can control her stimming in public settings and she can navigate public transportation. She has fairly few sensory issues, and is rarely overwhelmed by them; when she is, she is able to calm herself. She accepts and gives hugs regularly. She’s a bit quiet, but she can carry on a conversation, and while she occasionally struggles to pick up on jokes, she’s got the hang of sarcasm. Her speech is a bit stilted sometimes, sure, but her vocabulary’s expansive, and she can write very eloquently. She tends to be pretty literal, but she’s also extremely intelligent and analytical, and those traits—along with her autistic eye for detail— help her understand subtlety very well. She sets flexible routines for herself to counteract the difficulty she faces doing things spontaneously. She is often trusted to look after and manage others. She’s highly empathetic. She can pass for neurotypical.

So that’s Allie.

Now let’s talk about Fred.

Fred often struggles to speak. He also went to university and had his own apartment, but had a lot of trouble keeping on top of academics, and even more trouble with basic life skills. He often forgot to do laundry, wash himself, brush his teeth, comb his hair, buy groceries, cook meals, and eat. He has since moved back home. He stims almost constantly, even in public settings, and grows very anxious on public transportation. He can’t drive, either, because it overwhelms him. His sensory issues cause daily trouble—he jumps violently at sudden sounds, cannot eat several common foods, and hates to be touched. When he gets overwhelmed, he screams and hurts himself. He struggles to understand sarcasm. He often gets stuck on particular lines of conversation, communicates largely through echolalia and pre-scripted speech, and very frequently forgets words mid-sentence. Sometimes—especially with new people—he cannot speak at all. He instinctively sees everything in black-and-white and struggles to internalize nuance. He thrives on routine and grows very anxious and very angry when his routines are broken unexpectedly. When he absolutely must do something new, he often needs someone to go with him. He has low empathy. He is frequently very visibly autistic.

So there’s Fred.

So you’ve got both of them now, two neat little life stories, Allie and Fred, Fred and Allie.

So.

Which of them is high-functioning? Which of them is low-functioning?

Allie and Fred respectively, right?

Wrong.

They’re the same person.

And they’re not hypothetical. They’re both me.

I’m Allie, and I’m Fred.

And here’s the kicker—something that sometimes gets missed out but is pretty important, a little bit crucial, kind-of-sort-of absolutely vital—I’m always both of them.

Sure, sometimes it depends on the day, whether I look more like Allie or more like Tim, and sure, circumstances and support levels and energy levels can all make a world of difference—but most often I am both of them at the exact same time, under the exact same circumstances.

I can hold down a completely average back-and-forth conversation, but still be unable to initiate that conversation, and still struggle to remember basic words in the middle of it, and still struggle to bring it to a natural close.

I can succeed in school and still struggle to complete my assignments, get them turned in at the very last minute or even late.

I can make myself three meals a day according to the strict series of alarms I’ve set myself, using my autistic love of routine to counterract my autistic insensitivity to hunger, but still forget to eat them afterward.

I can remember to shower, but forget to brush my teeth, and vice versa. I can remember to wash my hair, but forget to comb it. I can wash my clothes without issue, but forget to move them into the dryer afterward. I can dry my clothes but forget to put them away.

I can navigate public transportation without error and also be extremely anxious the whole time.

I can control my stimming in public and still stim furiously when I get home. (I can also be perfectly able to control my stimming in public, but choose not to do so—as is often the case, because stimming is a very helpful coping mechanism, and also just fun, and I don’t care if strangers think it’s weird because I know it doesn’t hurt them.)

I can have few sensory issues and still struggle noticeably with those few.

I can hate to be touched and still grin and bear it. (I can also hate receiving hugs and not mind giving them.)

I can calm myself when I get overwhelmed using coping skills and also struggle to do so. (I can calm myself when overwhelmed without much effort using coping skills that alarm other people—like body stimming, screaming, or self-harm.)

I can use sarcasm but still have trouble understanding when others use it. I can speak very eloquently while still relying heavily on echolalia and scripts. I can write beautifully when I am not able to speak a single word.

I can struggle heavily with the black-and-white thinking that comes so much more naturally to me and still force myself to use my critical thinking skills to spot nuance. (I can still struggle to internalize this nuance once I have spotted it.)

I can cope with spontaneity and still have immediate, instinctive emotional reactions to breaks in routine. (I can have a meltdown and force myself to cope afterwards.) I can cope with new situations and still need someone shadowing me. (Having someone shadow you is a way to cope in itself.)

I can have high empathy for objects or fictional characters and little to none for real, actual people. I can care very much about people’s feelings and still not understand what those feelings are. I can analyze the reasons behind someone’s feelings and still not recognize them on their face or in their voice. I can recognize feelings on someone’s face or in their voice and still not know what to do about them. I can want to comfort people and not know how.

I can have the ability to pass as neurotypical at one given moment but not another. I can have the ability to pass as neurotypical in a given moment and simply choose not to. I can choose to pass as neurotypical, and succeed in passing as neurotypical to some of the people I interact with, and not succeed with others.

I can do all of this at the same time, within the same day, the same hour. Even the same moment, if I’m feeling extra spicy autistic.

I routinely do.

Because all of these experiences—these strengths, weaknesses, traits—are part of my life. None of them cancel each other out, because they can’t—they’re all equally inherent to who I am as a person. So they coexist, even if they seem contradictory.

Because I’m contradictory. Because I’m a person, and I’m multifaceted, and nuanced—people are like that, or so I hear.

Autistics are no exception.

You can’t split us so easily into high- or low-functioning, because to do so is to ignore other vital aspects of our experiences.

To do so, put simply, is both dehumanizing and inaccurate.

And, as well—to do so is to box us into one rigid experience or another: one in which people focus only on the things we can do and ignore those we can’t, or one in which people focus only on the things we cannot do and ignore all of the things we can.

Because the labels come with stereotypes—as the common thinking goes, “high-functioning” autistics never really struggle and can do anything they want without any help, while “low-functioning” autistics do nothing but struggle, have very little, if any, potential, and are to be pitied.

That is, of course, nonsense.

So in both experiences the true scope of our abilities is overlooked. (People hearing the labels have no clue what we’re capable of, but they think they do, and they generally act accordingly.)

And, as well, in both experiences we are spoken over by others—by those who think they should be allowed to decide what we are like, and what our futures will be like, and categorize us and compare us to each other and pit us against each other, elevating some autistics above others, as a means of determining our ability to “function” in society. (Which is to say, of course, our worth to society, how much we inconvenience society—because functioning labels don’t express how we experience our autism; rather, they express how others experience our autism.)

So, all told, why don’t autistics like functioning labels?

Because they are not only dehumanizing, inaccurate, and unnecessarily rigid—they’re also not even helpful (to anyone—us or others).

There’s no good reason to use them. We’d like it to stop.

And, personally, if any neurotypical tries to ascribe either label to me—or to any autistics around me, for that matter—I’m going to make a hell of a fuss.