Autistic Mike Wheeler - Tumblr Posts

I headcannon Mike Wheeler as autistic (because we share the exact same strain) and I have a theory regarding Season 5. Many autistic people, including myself, have a warped sense of inherent danger. We will throw ourselves into dangerous situations not fully understanding the risks involved. It’s a dangerous situation, sure, but not so dangerous we should avoid it. Mike also has this problem, what with him diving head-first into every fight. He wants desperately to be a hero, to prove his worth and might as a person—to be remembered. If that means doing something stupid like getting himself killed, then that’s what it takes. It’s heartbreaking, but that’s the world he lives in. Hopper, Eleven, Will, they’ve all sacrificed their lives in some capacity to save the world, now it’s his turn.

Eddie touched on this concept with his “Don’t try to be heroes, not today. There is no shame in running,” but Mike doesn’t see it that way. In his mind, those who run are cowards, afraid to face their fears and fight for what they believe in. Has Mike been a bit cowardly these past two seasons by avoiding his feelings for Will? Yes, absolutely. But that’s his arc. Mike has to understand his actions, why he’s hiding, and the serious danger everyone is in. He has to face the music. Where does this lack of inherent danger come in? Glad you asked.

We all know Mike wants to be a hero. He wants to go down in history as someone good, someone who put others before themselves and saves the world. The Brave Knight, The Paladin. Paladins swear an oath of bravery and loyalty, vowing to avenge any threat that dares harm their allegiance (Byler anyone?). Something will threaten to harm/kill Will in Season 5, and Mike will have none of it. They’re not doing this again. Thus, Mike will throw himself in front of Vecna/Demogorgon/Brenner, etc. to protect Will, not fully comprehending the danger of the situation. He’ll be a hero. Unfortunately, this risky act will most likely cost him his life (temporarily). He doesn’t have to die. He’s the heart.

Lucas says, in the Season 4 hospital, that Max’s heart stopped for over a minute, but it miraculously started again. She is alive. El’s love for her conquered death itself. If we go on the “Will Has Powers” theory, then his love for Mike will conquer death and revive him. Mike only needs to be presumed dead, to be out long enough for Will and El to feel the effects of his death and consider joining Vecna. Because without their HEART, they’d fall apart. Both of them.

Back to what Eddie said, there really is no shame in running. Will doesn’t need Mike to do some egregious, knightly act of sacrifice to prove his love for him. His love is already enough. Will loves Mike for EXACTLY WHO HE IS. He always has, and THAT is the real heart of this story. Mike is not a hero because of what he does, but because of who he is. The way he loves, the way he stands up for what he believes in, the way he treasures his friends and protects them. The way he makes Will feel safe just by being there. That’s what Will fell in love with, not some fantastical DnD character that never actually existed.

Like Mike said in Season 2, “this isn’t DnD, this is real life.” DnD characters are fun, and it’s exciting to dream about slaying dragons or exploding orcs with your Magic Missiles, but that’s not real. It’s a game and it will end. Hit Points don’t magically restore you after a Long Rest and Healing Potions don’t deal 2d4+2 Healing. Actions have consequences and danger is real, even if your brain tells you it’s not. Paladins, Clerics, Bards, Rangers, they’re not real people. But Mike Wheeler is (in this context) and Mike Wheeler is enough. He is so enough. It’s time he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t have to be the Hero, slay the dragon, and make everything better, because it was NEVER HIS FAULT. Bad things happen and, sometimes, we can’t fix them. All we can do is stand beside our partner, hold their hand, and fight along with them—to remind them they are never alone. That, in and of itself, is truly heroic.

You Can’t Be What You Can’t See.

Positive, authentic representation means the difference between feeling like an alien in your community and discovering your identity. I’ve been on this journey for the last four years. Diving into media, my past, and other autistic creators to put together some semblance of what it means to be me. A large piece of that puzzle snapped together last year after watching Stranger Things Season 4, specifically the Painting Scene. I could not wrap my head around why Mike didn’t take the time to comfort Will as he cried or why he didn’t seem to understand Will was talking about himself. I thought back on his whole characterization and what I would have done in that situation, and the lightbulb dinged: Mike is autistic…just like me.

It was an overwhelming moment of joy, understanding, and identity that not only did we share the same diagnosis, we practically share the same brain. Since then Autistic Mike has taken over my mind and taught me more about myself than any doctor. I’ve explored him through my writing and used his (eventual) relationship with Will as something to aspire to, that maybe someday my Will will come for me. Someone to accept, love, and understand every part of me. It is incredibly healing and life-giving and I’m so thankful for everyone involved in creating such a beautiful story. When Bhavna announced she had opened commissions for her art, I knew I had to have this turning point in my life memorialized. We worked together for about a month to come up with this piece and I could not be happier. I sobbed when I saw the preliminary sketch—I finally felt seen.

All that to say, never be embarrassed about something you love. There is someone out there who needs to see it’s okay to exist. Please enjoy Mike’s latest DnD info-dumping session while his boyfriend, Will, looks on. It’s late, they should be in bed, but Mike can’t stop and Will’s too infatuated with Mike’s happiness to make him. The world is a little too loud, so Mike donned his headphones, and Will loves the way they relax Mike and allow him to process the world a little easier. Thank you, Bhavna. Happy Stranger Things Day. ❤️

ALL OF THIS!!!! There are so many signs that Mike Wheeler would rather not exist on this planet anymore, but his friends and family keep saving him. El pulling him up from the quarry (if you think that jump was only motivated by Dustin, you are incorrect), Hopper grounding Mike as he screamed at him (even if he was projecting), Max trying to protect him from Billy, etc. Mike has come to rely on others for his salvation and, quite frankly, would not be here today without them. I think of that iconic Grey’s Anatomy speech, “You’re careless with your life.”

In Mike’s mind, his life is inconsequential compared to people like El or Will. As long as they are alive and healthy, it matters not what happens to Mike. If he lives, great, if he dies, then he died protecting those he loved. He’s a Paladin, a hero, someone who gives their life to protect those they love—no matter the cost. That doesn’t mean they are completely self-sacrificing. Paladins utilize melee weapons and engage in combat—they have self-preservation skills!

It’s time for the Party to stop intervening (as painful as that may be) and let Mike truly feel the weight of his actions. He must face his mortality and suicidal ideation squarely in the face and fight his demons ALONE. I want to see Mike acknowledge his reckless and dangerous behavior and fully understand how close he has come to death—how his friends and family saved him every single time, but they can’t save him forever. He might believe escaping is the only way to neutralize the searing pain in his sole, but as someone who has been there and come out the other side, I want Mike to realize he has so much to fight for. He has a life and a future. He has people who love him. He is a kind, compassionate, lovable person who deserves to discover the beauty that comes with healing. I want to see Mike Wheeler save himself and choose to LIVE.

“I know you would die for me, but would you live for me?”

mike is constantly trying to save others, but it almost always fails because he’s either never strong enough, or it’s stopped by a supernatural force - something that makes him feel inferior. he believes saving others makes him more worthy and needed, and if he can’t even do that, what is he then?

when he throws himself at billy for max and is slammed against the wall, when he tries to smack billy down to save el but billy stops him, when he jumps off the cliff but is saved by el’s powers, when he pushes troy down but gets saved by el’s powers before he gets into a fight, getting pushed to the ground and not fighting back.

yeah give his ass a sword in s5 to save HIMSELF for once and i better see NOBODY intervening or else i’m having a word with those brothers

An excerpt from a Fic I wrote a while ago centering on Autistic!Mike. I wrote it from my perspective as a late-diagnosed female who found euphoria and purpose from this one little word. I hope you take the time to read it and understand the life-changing power of diagnosis. Autism is not a tragedy. Rather, it is a difference in the Human Condition that deserves celebration.

"Hey…Will, I almost forgot. I need to tell you something important". Will immediately flinches awake and startles, scanning the room for threats.

"What? Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Mike assures him, running his hand down Will's cheek. Embarrassment and shame course through him. He wishes Will’s nervous system didn’t overreact this way. He speaks quietly and clearly, emphasizing his words. "I'm okay. We’re safe.” Will leans into Mike’s touch and anchors himself in the present. He is safe, Mike is safe, and they are together. His eyes slip closed as he takes a few steadying breaths. He then shifts to his side to see Mike better, turning on the small lamp on the nightstand and propping himself up on his elbow. Mike looks anxious. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he stares at the ceiling. Will places his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

"Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me, okay?” he reassures Mike. “I won't be mad. We'll work through it together. You know how much I love you.” Will's words ease Mike's anxiety. Here goes nothing.

"I talk to Robin a lot–just like you–but we don't just talk about boyfriends. We…we talk about…other things, too.”

"What kinds of other things?" Will probes. Mike swallows hard.

"We…we talk about…fuck, this is tough….about my…my brain.” He can't believe he said it. Will is even more confused. His brain? What about his brain? The last time he checked, Mike's brain was perfect. Why does this involve Robin? Mike cannot make eye contact. Will eyes stare directly into his soul. If he looks back, he will lose his sanity. His hands white knuckle the sheets–anything to ground himself.

"My brain is…different from most people's.” Mike’s not sure how to explain this without sounding completely insane. “I have difficulty connecting with people and holding on to relationships. I'm blunt and straightforward, and people think I'm rude. That's why making friends is hard for me. People don't understand how to interact with me.” The words are slow and halted, forced out like a reluctant child. Will hangs on every one. He has yet to see the whole picture but will keep listening until he does. Mike continues as bile creeps into his throat.

"I also struggle with change. I need routine and structure; it keeps me safe. When that structure changes, it takes me longer to adjust. Like when you and El moved away, or Max joined our Party.” Words come faster now. He’s held this pain inside for too long. “I don't understand why things change and how everyone moves on while I'm stuck in this perpetual loop. I get scared that everything will change because one thing is changing, and it’s too much to handle. I don't want to be hostile, but my brain tells me to protect myself. Routines also help me not feel overwhelmed by the world. Everything is loud…and bright…and fast. It's terrifying.” Tears spill out, emotions too much to contain. “If I stick to my routine, some of that stuff fades into the background. But as soon as it changes, that all comes rushing back in. My body shuts down, and I can’t stop it. I lose control, and it's scary, Will. It's…It's so scary!"

Mike breaks down and rolls into his boyfriend’s waiting arms. Will is dumbfounded. He had no idea. How has Mike survived this long? He rubs deep circles into Mike’s back, attempting to ground him. He wishes Mike had told him sooner. He would have helped him through it, been there for him when it was all too much. How did he miss it? Something so central to Mike's being unknown to the people he loves most. Will's mind drifts back to their childhoods when Mike would fall apart on the floor. Will would hold and rock him until he calmed down–not dissimilarly to what he did last week at the hospital. Then it clicks. Mike is describing those moments. Nights spent on the kitchen floor crying over a scratchy shirt tag or "wrong foods" touching. He got angry because Will canceled plans they made a week ago, even though his PTSD flared up and he was too weak to go out. His head swirles with examples, and each one makes more sense than the last. He holds Mike's face, wiping tears with his thumbs.

"Mike, I understand. I see how scary those moments are for you. I may not feel what you feel, but I see your pain, and that’s enough. You are not broken, and there is nothing wrong with you. Do you understand me?" Mike tearfully nods. "I love you so much, and I am honored that you feel safe enough to share this part of yourself with me. I will always be here to help you, just like you help me. We need each other, and I am so thankful to have you in my life. I do have a question, though. Is there a name for this, and why do you discuss it with Robin? Isn't that something a doctor tells you?"

Mike laughs at Will's innocent questions. "You should talk about it with a doctor, but most don't know much about it. It's called autism, and I talk about it with Robin because she has it, too. She's the one who saw it in me. The first time she explained it…I cried, Will. I had never heard a word describe me so perfectly.” As he remembers the moment, new tears form, and a smile radiates through his body. “It was like…I had a missing piece, and Robin found it. She unlocked me. I finally have permission to be myself. All of these struggles, all of this pain, it's real. It has a name. I've never felt this way, and I want you to know so you can feel it, too. I love you so much, Will.” Autism. Will rolls the word around in his mind. He's never heard it before, but it makes sense. It explains Mike. His bluntness, his temper, his everything. He pulls Mike close and hugs him tightly, tears mingling in their embrace as they celebrate the moment. It is not sad. Instead, it is euphoric.