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In list form because I love lists; episode references and additional details under the cut. Everyone with ASD has a different grab bag of traits, and I wanted to note down Parker’s.

Parker is canonically autistic, from multiple word-of-god sources. One in particular I’d like to note is a tweet from John Rogers, who said she was originally “in the direction” of having autism, but it was Beth Riesgraf’s decision to play Parker that way, and they “wrote to her performance”. Many examples below are definitely actor-driven. 

Struggles with social skills and a lack of real friendships through her life, but eventually connects strongly with a small group of people she considers family

Mimics social cues from others, including jokes she may not understand, body language, physical contact

Often has a straightforward way of talking; occasionally says things considered rude or not appropriate to the situation by others

Takes literal interpretations of statements, and sometimes has trouble understanding information taken out of context

Generally non-expressive or makes facial expressions not expected of a situation

Naturally avoids eye contact

Particular about touch

Special interest in types of safes & security, valuable art and items, other theft-related information

Stims by picking small locks she carries around with her, smelling things, organizing items, repeating words/phrases, and clenching her hands

Frustrated by unexpected changes to plans or her own expectations / Distracted by questions or expectations that she feels are unresolved

Gets attached to routines and traditions— ranging from seating arrangements (personal) to “Let’s steal a [blank]” (team)

Sensory issues (eg loud noise and clothing texture)

Low empathy / difficulty with empathy

When upset, may become increasingly curt or stop talking, as well as notably physically tense and disruptive

Favorite food is by far and obviously cereal, which she eats frequently and stocks boxes of the same type at both her own home and Leverage HQ

C’est à Giverny qu’il faut avoir vu Monet pour le connaître, pour savoir son caractère, son goût d’existence, sa nature intime. Cette maison et ce jardin, c’est aussi une œuvre, et Monet a mis toute sa vie à la créer et à la parfaire.

Gustave Geffroy

Cover illustrations by Todd Lockwood

A Natural History of Dragons (2013)

You, dear reader, continue at your own risk. It is not for the faint of heart—no more so than the study of dragons itself. But such study offers rewards beyond compare: to stand in a dragon's presence, even for the briefest of moments—even at the risk of one's life—is a delight that, once experienced, can never be forgotten. . . . All the world, from Scirland to the farthest reaches of Eriga, know Isabella, Lady Trent, to be the world's preeminent dragon naturalist. She is the remarkable woman who brought the study of dragons out of the misty shadows of myth and misunderstanding into the clear light of modern science. But before she became the illustrious figure we know today, there was a bookish young woman whose passion for learning, natural history, and, yes, dragons defied the stifling conventions of her day. Here at last, in her own words, is the true story of a pioneering spirit who risked her reputation, her prospects, and her fragile flesh and bone to satisfy her scientific curiosity; of how she sought true love and happiness despite her lamentable eccentricities; and of her thrilling expedition to the perilous mountains of Vystrana, where she made the first of many historic discoveries that would change the world forever.

A Tropic of Serpents (2014)

Attentive readers of Lady Trent’s earlier memoir, A Natural History of Dragons, are already familiar with how a bookish and determined young woman named Isabella first set out on the historic course that would one day lead her to becoming the world’s premier dragon naturalist. Now, in this remarkably candid second volume, Lady Trent looks back at the next stage of her illustrious (and occasionally scandalous) career. Three years after her fateful journeys through the forbidding mountains of Vystrana, Mrs. Camherst defies family and convention to embark on an expedition to the war-torn continent of Eriga, home of such exotic draconian species as the grass-dwelling snakes of the savannah, arboreal tree snakes, and, most elusive of all, the legendary swamp-wyrms of the tropics. The expedition is not an easy one. Accompanied by both an old associate and a runaway heiress, Isabella must brave oppressive heat, merciless fevers, palace intrigues, gossip, and other hazards in order to satisfy her boundless fascination with all things draconian, even if it means venturing deep into the forbidden jungle known as the Green Hell . . . where her courage, resourcefulness, and scientific curiosity will be tested as never before.

The Voyage of the Basilisk (2015)

Devoted readers of Lady Trent’s earlier memoirs, A Natural History of Dragons and The Tropic of Serpents, may believe themselves already acquainted with the particulars of her historic voyage aboard the Royal Survey Ship Basilisk, but the true story of that illuminating, harrowing, and scandalous journey has never been revealed—until now. Six years after her perilous exploits in Eriga, Isabella embarks on her most ambitious expedition yet: a two-year trip around the world to study all manner of dragons in every place they might be found. From feathered serpents sunning themselves in the ruins of a fallen civilization to the mighty sea serpents of the tropics, these creatures are a source of both endless fascination and frequent peril. Accompanying her is not only her young son, Jake, but a chivalrous foreign archaeologist whose interests converge with Isabella’s in ways both professional and personal. Science is, of course, the primary objective of the voyage, but Isabella’s life is rarely so simple. She must cope with storms, shipwrecks, intrigue, and warfare, even as she makes a discovery that offers a revolutionary new insight into the ancient history of dragons.

In the Labyrinth of Drakes (2016)

Even those who take no interest in the field of dragon naturalism have heard of Lady Trent's expedition to the inhospitable deserts of Akhia. Her discoveries there are the stuff of romantic legend, catapulting her from scholarly obscurity to worldwide fame. The details of her personal life during that time are hardly less private, having provided fodder for gossips in several countries. As is so often the case in the career of this illustrious woman, the public story is far from complete. In this, the fourth volume of her memoirs, Lady Trent relates how she acquired her position with the Royal Scirling Army; how foreign saboteurs imperiled both her work and her well-being; and how her determined pursuit of knowledge took her into the deepest reaches of the Labyrinth of Drakes, where the chance action of a dragon set the stage for her greatest achievement yet.

Within the Sanctuary of Wings (2017)

Togo

Authored and illustrated by Robert J. Blake

Philomel Books, October 2002

Sirens & Muses by Antonia Angress

Cover Art: Sleepy Girl Girl by Anastasia Balabina

Ballantine Books, July 2022

It’s 2011: America is in a deep recession and Occupy Wall Street is escalating. But at the elite Wrynn College of Art, students paint and sculpt in a rarefied bubble. Louisa Arceneaux is a thoughtful, observant nineteen-year-old when she transfers to Wrynn as a scholarship student, but she soon finds herself adrift in an environment that prizes novelty over beauty. Complicating matters is Louisa’s unexpected attraction to her charismatic roommate, Karina Piontek, the preternaturally gifted but mercurial daughter of wealthy art collectors. Gradually, Louisa and Karina are drawn into an intense sensual and artistic relationship, one that forces them to confront their deepest desires and fears. But Karina also can’t shake her fascination with Preston Utley, a senior and anti-capitalist Internet provocateur, who is publicly feuding with visiting professor and political painter Robert Berger—a once-controversial figurehead seeking to regain relevance. When Preston concocts an explosive hoax, the fates of all four artists are upended as each is unexpectedly thrust into the cutthroat New York art world. Now all must struggle to find new identities in art, in society, and among each other. In the process, they must find either their most authentic terms of life—of success, failure, and joy—or risk losing themselves altogether.

I just really want to give Balabina's art the recognition it deserves here. This painting is phenomenal and finding the artist's info took way too much effort.

THE SONG IS TALKING ABOUT ALCOHOL

“Hey what’s in this drink” was a stock joke at the time, and the punchline was invariably that there’s actually pretty much nothing in the drink, not even a significant amount of alcohol. 

See, this woman is staying late, unchaperoned, at a dude’s house. In the 1940’s, that’s the kind of thing Good Girls aren’t supposed to do — and she wants people to think she’s a good girl. The woman in the song says outright, multiple times, that what other people will think of her staying is what she’s really concerned about: “the neighbors might think,” “my maiden aunt’s mind is vicious,” “there’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” But she’s having a really good time, and she wants to stay, and so she is excusing her uncharacteristically bold behavior (either to the guy or to herself) by blaming it on the drink — unaware that the drink is actually really weak, maybe not even alcoholic at all. That’s the joke. That is the standard joke that’s going on when a woman in media from the early-to-mid 20th century says “hey, what’s in this drink?” It is not a joke about how she’s drunk and about to be raped. It’s a joke about how she’s perfectly sober and about to have awesome consensual sex and use the drink for plausible deniability because she’s living in a society where women aren’t supposed to have sexual agency.

Basically, the song only makes sense in the context of a society in which women are expected to reject men’s advances whether they actually want to or not, and therefore it’s normal and expected for a lady’s gentleman companion to pressure her despite her protests, because he knows she would have to say that whether or not she meant it, and if she really wants to stay she won’t be able to justify doing so unless he offers her an excuse other than “I’m staying because I want to.” (That’s the main theme of the man’s lines in the song, suggesting excuses she can use when people ask later why she spent the night at his house: it was so cold out, there were no cabs available, he simply insisted because he was concerned about my safety in such awful weather, it was perfectly innocent and definitely not about sex at all!) In this particular case, he’s pretty clearly right, because unlike in Blurred Lines, the woman actually has a voice, and she’s using it to give all the culturally-understood signals that she actually does want to stay but can’t say so. She states explicitly that she’s resisting because she’s supposedto, not because she wants to: “I ought to say no no no…” She states explicitly that she’s just putting up a token resistance so she’ll be able to claim later that she did what’s expected of a decent woman in this situation: “at least I’m gonna say that I tried.” And at the end of the song they’re singing together, in harmony, because they’re both on the same page and they have been all along.

“We cannot break bread with you.” “Huh? Becky, what’s going on?”

Wandering Bus

There is a bus in Philadelphia which SEPTA does not talk about. It is not listed on the website. It has neither schedule nor route. It drives the city in a pattern known only to its driver, and perhaps not even to him. Its electronic reader board never displays a number, only “SEPTA.” People who know it call it the Zero, the Random Bus, the Wandering Bus, or just The Bus. It is not a bus for people who know where they want to go. It is a bus for departures.

The Bus has a way of showing up when you are at your lowest. You will hit a certain point, feel a disconcerting crumple in an inner place you thought solid, like a hand crushing an origami box. Just then you look up to see The Bus a block away. You always need to run for it, but just a little bit. Just enough to show you need it. It will wait.

There is an automated voice. It does not say Route forty, service to Second and Lombard. The Bus does not deal in those specifics. It says only Service from and the name of the intersection you are standing at. The doors clunk open, you get on board, the doors hiss shut, and the bus moves on. The driver does not ask where you want to go, but many passengers tell him anyway: Just drive. You pay fare if you can, but if you can’t, the driver will nod, with eyes covered by his blue hat, and you will nod and you will head to your seat.

The shifty and the shameful and the shameless ride Philadelphia’s buses. But most of them are trying to get somewhere. They want to see someone, or acquire something, or get to a place by a time. The Wandering Bus is not for them. Its riders are the people who need to leave wherever they are at that moment. Just leave. The bus goes everywhere. It has been seen in West Powelton, and Grad Hospital, and Center City. It drives down Passyunk, and Haverford, and Dauphin. Most people don’t notice The Bus because it isn’t the one they’re looking for. If your heart is bright and your spirit buoyant, it is likely that you have never seen The Bus.

The Wandering Bus serves a wider clientele than you might think. The failing businessman, the addict’s sister, the questioning Reverend have all ridden on The Bus. Even a mayor and a police chief and a manager of the Phillies. There is no conversation on The Bus. What’s more, when you get off, you cannot recall who was on The Bus with you, or how crowded it was. You remember only that you sat by the window and watched the city slide through your translucent reflection. At some point, you were moved to pull the cord and disembark. One night, your feet hit the pavement, the bus pulled away, and you found yourself near to where you needed to be.