#the hyperfocus of “nope i need answers NOW.”

[kxlluaz]

"Don't change the subject and don't get too close-" the delivery of this line and the blocking that goes with it lives in my head RENT FREE it just scratches my brain and is so 🤌 chef's kiss

[mlqueen89]

Six Sentence Sunday

since i'm still slaving away over the next chapter of my jake seresin x ofc fic, here's some more glen!

i can do it with a broken heart - glen powell x ofc (wip)

Aimee was hunched over her laptop in her trailer, a half-eaten granola bar abandoned next to her as she furiously typed out revisions.

Isla had sent her no less than 9.5 texts (.5 being an emoji with its head exploding) in the span of three hours and Aimee was determined to finish up before she collapsed, exhaustion and starvation winning out over the hyperfocus that kept her fingers flying over the keys. A stack of crumpled notes littered the small table beside her, casualties of her frustrated scribbles, notes and to-dos alike.

The crumpled to-do sticky note that reminded her to change her phone number and not give it to Isla was somewhere in that pile. She'd just have to write another note to remind herself of that reminder.

Isla had asked, no, begged, Aimee to take another shot at the scene on the writing end. It was a rewrite of the kiss, or writing out an Ivy death scene.

I swear to-- Isla had whisper yelled, evening out her tone as her assistant mad scribbled notes, I'll replace her if I have to. We'll get another Ivy or just another love interest. We'll just say based on the book, instead of screen adaptation.

For confirmation on this, Isla had looked up as her assistant, Missy, who was already shaking her head, the mop of red, curly hair pinned into a high, swishing ponytail, flopping around her face as she drew her hand across her throat. No budget, Missy had rasped with a grimace, an attempt to match the conspiratorial theme.

Aimee, Isla had grasped Aimee by the shoulders by now, please. Work your magic, fix this.

The Ivy and Ben kiss scene needed more depth, more weight—Isla had tutted Aimee after they'd had to call it a day without the pivotal shot because Lila just wasn’t getting it--the subtle undertones, the spark, even after Aimee had nailed it with Glen in just one reference run-through. Aimee worked past the sudden lump in her throat, her heart suddenly racing with the memory, her stomach dropping as the feelings played through her body, even now. That had been weeks ago. Weeks when they'd cycled through other shots and had finally come back to this one with no luck.

When the knock at the door a few feet away shook her out of her head, Aimee answered too quickly, her voice pitched as if she'd been caught red-handed. As if her feelings were painted across her forehead in neon lettering. "Yup. Yeah, come in."

A sharp stab of light immediately had her squinting as the door swung open.

"Jesus, Wright--" Glen took the two short stairs into the trailer in one long-legged step. There was a rustle of a takeout bag balanced in his one hand and the two coffee cups in the other and suddenly, the small space was filled with the smell of fresh caffeine and MSG.

Aimee groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over her face. “I hiss at the daylight, intruder,” she intoned. “I am one with the darkness. The light, it burns.”

Even as she said it, there was a small part of her that chased after the words as they left her mouth. Why was she so weird sometimes?

She expected a comment from Glen in his usual tone, about how it tracked, what with her pale skin and her near Victorian era orphan on their deathbed vibe. She even had the response lined up, Nope, just Canadian. Born of snow, ice and apologies and all that.

Instead, Aimee could almost hear the eyeroll, sense the smirk as he spoke. “It’s literally six p.m. and you’ve been in here all day, haven’t you?” She could hear him move toward the small kitchenette to her right and the rustle of the bag told her he'd set the food down. “Have you eaten anything?"

“Maybe,” she said, peeking out from under her arm. Her stomach growled, as if on cue.

"I meant other than a stale granola bar.”

"I've absorbed the essence of Isla's anxiety and I've eaten my words, with an in-season side of healthy superstition," Aimee struggled to keep a straight face, "I didn't knock on wood last week when I said this can't get any worse. Very avant-garde, it only costs an ounce of my sanity and about 90 seconds off my life, per serving."

Glen tsked, shaking his head as he unpacked the food.

Taking a moment to scan him, standing in her trailer, shuffling things around on the counter feet away from her like it was a normal, every day thing he did, Aimee processed. She could peg his outfit (blue dress shirt, rolled up on his forearm and a dark pair of jeans) as the costume from the third scene in the second act, the one where Ben takes Ivy dancing. 6 p.m. he'd said -- this was his break from set. Here he was talking to her about taking breaks and he hadn't even had a minute to relax himself. Nevermind the time it had taken him to wrangle food.

It took Aimee a moment to stop staring when he spoke again, his eyes (thankfully) not turned back to her yet--how was it that he managed to look this good in anything? “C’mon, take a break.”

Aimee sighed, carefully saving her document before swiveling toward him. “Actually, I was about to run the rewrite by you. Since you’re here, feeding me and saving me from running around looking for you, I figure I can exploit you for your opinion.”

Glen handed her a takeout container as she approached and leaned against the counter. “Hit me.”

Aimee cleared her throat and read through the scene, pacing slightly, laptop balanced in one hand as she spoke, getting lost in the rhythm of the dialogue. She moved her hands, animated, not allowing herself to imagine that the words she wrote would be words Glen spoke, actions he took. Seeing his face when she wrote for Ben was becoming distracting. She'd caught herself once or twice in the last week writing as if Ben and Glen were one and the same, her heart racing and her mind wandering before she realized her mistake. As she erased four pages, her index finger jamming the 'delete' button, she had silently vowed she would stop listening to his voice messages to her (while she wrote) about the importance of cilantro on tacos and how, through personal experience, koalas were really actually menaces hiding behind cute fluffy exteriors. This train of casual conversation on his part had sent her mind off on a trajectory that had her crash landing into thoughts about Anybody But You and blushing furiously. She would have to keep reminding herself to keep on task because she was beginning to realize she didn't hate the way he filled her head like sand between the cracks in her already fragile being, her already unbalanced life.

She'd write a sticky note for that.

To-Do: keep Glen and Ben separate.

On the reverse she'd write: Reminder: Don't fall for him, with a qualifying doodle of a broken heart and a sad face.

Was this what her therapist had meant about using humour to deflect real feelings? Possibly.

When she finished, cursor blinking at the end of the last sentence on her screen, she looked up at Glen expectantly.

He nodded thoughtfully for a moment. “It’s good. Better than what the scripting people got... But you know that already. Can I give you a note?”

She gestured for him to continue, taking the moment to step toward the takeout container, cracking it open and grabbing a forkful of food from the place she'd told him she loved exactly once as he waited by her while the crew reset a scene.

“Alright,” he said, setting his drink down. “So, you know about the 90/10 rule, right?”

Aimee frowned, shaking her head after a moment of flipping through the back of her mind and finding nothing there. “What, is that a baseball thing?”

Glen chuckled. “No, it’s a kind of unspoken rule for first kisses. You go 90% of the way, and you let the other person come the last 10%. It’s about reading the moment, giving the other person the choice. Anticipation, patience.”

Aimee snorted before she could stop herself. “That is not a thing.”

“It is absolutely a thing,” Glen countered, eyes dancing with amusement. Aimee hated the way he made her stomach do weird squiggly things and he obviously had no idea. “You’ve definitely experienced it.”

“Hard no. Usually, guys just," Aimee shrugged, her eyes drawn down to the food in front of her, stabbing aimlessly at a broccoli floret, "I dunno, lean in and hope for the best?”

“Then they’re doing it wrong.” Glen dropped his fork into the takeout container, rolling his shoulders as he straightened and took a step closer to where she stood. Not close enough to crowd her, but enough that she noticed. Enough that he was in her orbit. Enough that she could smell his cologne and sun warmed skin.

Aimee narrowed her eyes, but she still had to tilt her chin to look up at him from where she stood. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

His voice was smooth, calm. He leaned in just slightly, his gaze holding hers. He reached out, his fingers brushing the short strand of hair dangling over her ear and tucking it away. His eyes dropped down to her lips, just a flicker, and then… he stopped. Close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, but not close enough to touch.

Aimee’s breath caught, the realization slow to register in her hazy mind. He’s doing it.

Her stomach flipped, that not unfamiliar pull tightening in her chest. The silence stretched, the space between them humming with something unspoken. Without thinking, she tilted forward—just slightly.

And then Glen pulled back, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips. “See?” he murmured. “The 90/10 rule. It’s a thing.”

Aimee blinked, heat creeping up her neck. She scrambled for something—anything—to say, scoffing as she turned back toward her laptop. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Sure it doesn’t.” Glen grabbed his drink again, grinning as he took a sip. "Just add it anyway."

i can do it with a broken heart - glen powell x ofc

a/n: sorry guys, i've teased a kiss... twice in three parts. imagine what i'm not showing you. i'm like a dragon, hoarding the gold. i will reveal that there's a fake dating trope in here somewhere.

tags for this wip: @readingislife @marrianena @dizzybee03 @lunatygerqueen @mrsevans90

@avengersfan25 @obsessed-fan-alert @khouse712 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

@writergirl28 @tgmreader @qutequeersstuff @cardi-bre91 @queenslandlover-93

@stoneyggirl2

[champion-city-intern]

Buddy, you mentioned having lots of culminating tasks that can overwhelm you sometimes.

Now I'm curious, how long do you work a day? how many days a week do you work on?

-ReubsRubs

Uhhh… okay wait— Give me a sec to actually think about this because my brain kinda ping-pongs when I try to answer stuff like this. … Okay! So my average work time during the day? Right. That. I technically start working around 8 AM? Ish? Usually after I’ve had about two hours to just… exist. Like, I wake up around 6 and need that buffer to decompress and do my own thing—otherwise my brain’s just static. So in that morning zone, I first make myself coffee and let Blinky roam around Champion City for her morning walk before finding her and wandering around Champion City a bit with her, or stay in my apartment doodling and scribbling thoughts in my notebook. Oh, and if Petra’s around, we always end up chatting—it’s like an accidental ritual now. Then from 8 to 9—PM I mean, not AM—that’s my main work time. That’s… 13 hours? I think? Math is hard sometimes, but that sounds right. Unless I’m wrong. Which happens. A lot. But yeah. As for days off? LOL nope. Stella’s kinda intense with scheduling and, lucky me, I’m “the reliable one” (her words, not mine!). So I don’t get actual days off, but I do get these little windows of time where I can stim with music or hyperfocus on something random and off-task for a while. That… kinda counts as rest, right? And even though it’s a lot—like, a lot a lot—I really do enjoy it. The chaos makes sense to me in a weird way. I like working for Stella and Champion City. It makes me feel useful. Needed. ...I think. Yeah. Let’s go with that. Anyway—thanks for the question! I’m gonna stop talking now before my brain spirals into an entirely different topic. Have a good day/afternoon/evening/night! {!} You learned some information about Radar's work schedule! Not that it matters anyways...

[palmett-hoes]

per your post "every single one of the monsters is autistic and/or adhd" will you elaborate on that?, if you do i will love you forever (not that i wont if you dont do it)

oh boy i would love to!!! unironically nothing brings me more joy than writing long, convoluted character analysis posts

---

okay so i’ve written several posts before about why andrew is autistic. his moral code, the roundabout way he communicates, his body language, his stimulation-seeking behavior, his strict adherence to transactional deals, the emphasis on honesty, and a dozen other details. at this point i just take andrew being autistic as fact, not just an interpretation

h o w e v e r  i also hc that andrew is dyslexic, which is also a neurodiverse condition

- - -

similarly, i’ve seen more than one person interpret kevin as autistic, and i absolutely agree that it fits. not just the hyperfocus on exy but mostly the way he communicates. he’s very indirect, especially in his affection but very direct with his opinions. he tries to be helpful in a material way to the people he cares about, even if he comes off as negative. he wants the people he cares about to be safe and successful so he pushes them to work hard and reminds them in measurable ways how to stay healthy. he doesn’t factor in a lot of room for emotions, so instead he focuses on quantifiable things that he can improve. i personally act very similarly. approaching someone emotionally is hard for me, so when the people i care about have problems all i can think to do is try offering solutions, check up on their well-being, etc. practicality instead of conventional sentiment is extremely common with asd

- - -

so now let’s talk about neil. i had to think on this one for a WHILE but ultimately came to the conclusion that neil is adhd, probably hyperactive type. 

like obviously neil is high energy. i would say he probably does the most exercise of anyone on the team. morning run, morning practice, afternoon practice, night practice with kevin and andrew, plus he doesn’t have a car so he runs to class (on a BIG ass campus), and goes for an extra run when he feels stressed. that’s... insane, honestly.

neil reminds me SO MUCH of this post that goes:

“Was just informed by my mom that I do in fact have ADHD and the reason I thought I didn’t was because ever since I was seven whenever I got super energetic my mom would have me go chop wood so now when I’m feeling The ADHD I go chop wood”

(phenomenal post) and that’s neil to a t. tell me this isn’t exactly how neil handles his problems and also exactly what mary would have had to do to keep her unmedicated and very energetic son focused on the task of staying alive

neil also definitely has that ADHD on/off switch with his interest. the obvious being exy which is like the definition of a hyperfixation, but you can see it in other things: the way he runs totally hot or totally cold with people, his complete disinterest in his schoolwork, the way he can’t seem to sit still long enough to follow movies. but then there’s also the hyperfocus. doing the same drill for hours on end. watching exy game after exy game. staring at andrew until time falls away

what’s more, neil on many occasions shows racing thoughts, both in an anxiety way (and anxiety often goes hand-and-hand with adhd) but also as a way to quickly and accurately take in details about people to build a character profile of them. this is what allows him to connect with the foxes, how he manages to get through andrew’s puzzles, and even how he knows what to say in order to knock riko down a peg. his brain just works so fast and it takes in a lot of very specific details and disparate information to make connections.

but also like,, neil has a HUGE problem with time blindness. like the instant he didn’t have his mother around to manage and direct him anymore he lost all sense of time. he stayed in Millport for a YEAR. and what did he keep telling himself during that time? basically “i really need to move on, but not just yet.” for a YEAR! then he gets to palmetto and he’s like “i’ll cut and run in a month or two” then he doesn’t “i’ll be gone by halloween” wrong again “i’ll leave by the raven’s game” nope. like,, the boy just has NO sense of time and he can’t seem to make himself DO anything outside of an externally enforced schedule. and even then,,, HE HAD 48 FUCKING DAYS TO FIGURE OUT SOMETHING TO DO TO NOT GET MURDERED! 48 WHOLE DAYS. he didn’t make a plan, he didn’t write down any letters with goodbyes, he didn’t GO TO THE FBI LIKE HE’D INTENDED TO THE WHOLE TIME! nah he just made out with andrew and when he finally got to zero he was just like “ah shit, that was fast. oh well guess i’ll die” and that’s time blindness, babey!

---

let’s move on to nicky. 

now i think it would be really easy to say nicky is just adhd because he’s high energy and forgetful but tbh,, i don’t think that’s all of it. like if you really look at nicky’s character and especially at his problems, he has asd problems just as much as he has adhd problems.

so nicky is dual diagnosis asd and adhd. also nicky reminds me a lot of a girl i used to know who was autistic/adhd

so, adhd:

very generally speaking, ppl with adhd will struggle with sitting still, listening to and following instructions, planning/organization, following a schedule, and some social boundaries like “appropriate” times and topics of conversation

i would say you see hints of this with nicky. he’s definitely a rambunctious personality, constantly on the move, constantly stimulation seeking. he’s very tactile. he likes to dance, he likes to party, he complains about it but he’s an elite-level athlete. he’s also decidedly very chatty, and doesn’t seem to really pay attention to what he’s saying. he distracts himself and the people around him have to keep him on track. he has some trouble with boundaries. he’s a little all over the place. he’s almost a bit of an adhd stereotype

also one thing i find interesting is that when neil sees him in the library doing work neil is surprised to see he’s capable of that, especially bc when we see the upperclassmen doing work they generally do it in their dorms or on the bus and/or with other people around. that hyper-social nicky would be alone in a quiet place is weird. but this is like the most common tip for dealing with adhd. don’t do it in a familiar space. have a designated space and time to do work. limit distractions. just a lil detail

so now, asd:

in all honesty, most of nicky’s actual problems in the narrative could be viewed as stemming from asd symptoms. his number one issue being that he has a lot of trouble with nonverbal cues (and tbh, verbal ones too). the twins are mostly quiet. andrew especially (when he’s sober) communicates primarily nonverbally, and nicky seems to have a lot of trouble with this. despite knowing them for the longest on the team, nicky honestly seems to have the least insight into the way either of the twins actually thinks or processes things. he loves them, and he’s very forgiving of them, but he fundamentally doesn’t understand them. 

the twins, andrew especially, put up a LOT of nonverbal boundaries, and nicky sort of inadvertently keeps trampling all over them. he’s touchy in a way they don’t like. he talks a lot about their personal lives to other people. he treats them like they’re joking when they’re serious. etc. and like,,, you kind of get the sense that the upperclassmen feel similarly about him. beyond the homophobia, beyond the fact that he’s loyal to andrew, the upperclassmen still treat him with this sense of,, bafflement, i suppose? it’s clear that they don’t really understand him and he doesn’t really understand them. although, nicky IS curious about the upperclassmen, while the upperclassmen are pretty dismissive of him. it reminds me of when my sweet, floppy dog tries to play with my cat. their body language is different; they’re each receiving different signals than they believe they’re sending out

only,, nicky loves people!! he likes being around them, he likes talking to them. he’s interested in their lives and stories, but it’s very clear that he can’t read between the lines on people. he has an incredibly hard time with people who expect their actions to speak for them, which is most people, but is especially his cousins.

actually this is very much also an issue that i have: things need to be spelled out for me. the way i deal with it is i ask a lot of questions. ‘how do you want me to react to this potential situation?’ ‘what are specific things that make you most comfortable?’ ‘please explain to me exactly how you feel and what has prompted those feelings?’ and i’m always communicating vice versa like that with other people. a lot of specifics in both questions and answers

and the interesting thing is, when i was skimming through the books reviewing dialogue styles for another ask, i noticed that, actually, nicky DOES do this. with neil and the upperclassmen, nicky asks a LOT of quick, clarifying questions. things that ask after tone, that ask after intent. it’s kinda sad that he does this for communicating with acquaintances, but with the twins, the people he’s closest to, he makes a lot more assumptions. and i’m really proud of nicky for having this coping skill, because i can’t imagine it’s something he grew up doing. there’s no way he was raised in an environment that fostered this kind of open communication so it must have been something he learned about much later, probably in germany with the kloses, which would also explain why he’s a lil imperfect about it

---

now last but not least, aaron

this is another one i had to think through for a long time before it felt like it fit

much like how i felt that it would be easy to read nicky as simply adhd rather than also asd, i think it would be easy to say aaron is autistic simply because he is quieter, less rambunctious. however, i actually think he’s adhd, likely primarily inattentive type

in all honesty, aaron’s #1 character trait for the first two books is basically that he’s disconnected. detached. separated both from his family and his team. not in the same forcefully apathetic way that andrew is, more,, spaced out. he’s just kind,, there. not really paying attention to what’s going on, tuning in every once in a while only if something really catches his eye/ear then tuning right back out again. just sits in his corner and plays on his phone. and the thing is, from the moments when he does tune in, you can tell that he actually does care. he backs nicky when seth insults him in tfc, and we know he cares deeply about andrew even if he’s become disillusioned with their fraught relationship. he even hangs with his family, doesn’t seem to really try and slip away to other friends besides katelyn, he’s fine spending his leisure time with the monsters. so it’s not totally apathy, he’s just,,, tuned out most of the time

and, yea, that sounds like adhd. it’s not the type that most people are familiar with, and for a lot of people this causes it to slip under the radar. it can make it hard to get help or a dx because it doesn’t fit with how adhd “should” look or how someone “should” act, but difficulty focusing your thoughts and staying in tune with the current moment is absolutely part of adhd

addiction is also a huge problem for people with adhd. a lot of stimulants affect people with adhd very differently than neurotypicals, especially in small doses, and an adhd kid who’s struggled their whole lives with the disorder might try speed or god-forbid meth or fuck even coffee and suddenly find that things are a lot easier for them. they start to self-medicate, they don’t actually know what they’re doing, and then they’re addicted, and everything spirals out of control. we don’t know too many details about aaron’s addiction other than that his mother enabled him, but wouldn’t this fit? it’s also an explanation for aaron still taking drugs at eden’s, given that cracker dust seems to be a mild amphetamine. (aaron talk to betsy about the neurocog and get an actual prescription please)

(total throw away but aaron plays videogames and videogames are like,, adhd culture)

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 8, sponsored by ADHD

Not being flippant, I absolutely have ADHD and can’t take any medications without getting heart palpitations. Hyperfocus, whoo!

Yeah, I enjoyed writing this one way too much. Chapter is here. I remain extremely grateful to @lostmypotatoes for not only the concept, but letting me jerk the characters around on her behalf. Enjoy!

The streetlights were starting to flicker on as the sun drifted below the horizon. Despite the chill wind, the crowds were shoulder-to-shoulder at the booths lining the street, and the glow from open doors illuminated a continuous flow of people moving in and out of shops and taverns.

One of the busiest establishments was a large inn not far from the castle. Standing patiently outside it was a lone, black-haired young woman; several passers-by waiting to join the line paused for a second look at her. She was dressed simply enough in a dark gown and white shawl, but her skin shone pale and flawless in the streetlamp, eyes lined in black and lips a dark crimson—very striking, even among the other women and a few young men wearing high-contrast makeup for the holiday. She'd done her best to achieve that effect, and found she rather enjoyed the attention; it was a relief that no one had—

"Heyyy, young lady," slurred a voice in her ear. "You lost?"

—hit on her yet. Frisk sighed and shifted her weight away from the beery stranger. "My husband will be out in a moment, thank you. Goodbye."

The man scoffed and leaned in closer, trapping her against the people standing in line. "Aw, darlin', don't try to pull that on me. Where's your weddin' ring?"

Frisk blinked. She hadn't accounted for anyone being drunk and observant. "Really, sir, I'm asking you nicely. Go away, or my husband will probably break your arm."

"Pffft! Right, right." The man made a grab at her shoulder. "C'mon, let's—"

Something large, swift, and angry loomed behind him. The bones of the stranger's hand went grch as a bigger hand grabbed it. Before the man could react, a glass mug smashed into the back of his head, bouncing him off the brick wall and sending him sprawling. "'Scuse you, asswipe," the newcomer said conversationally.

"Sa—honey," Frisk reproved him, accepting a mug. "You promised not to make a mess."

"'m not makin' a mess, kitten. I'm cleanin' it up." Even in his disguise, Sans towered over most of the people in the street, especially the one moaning on the cobblestones. The human-shaped boss monster draped a long arm around Frisk's shoulders, glaring down. "Ya wanna fill me in on yer conversation, pal? Sounded pretty interestin'."

The man scrambled to his feet and hobbled off into the crowd. Sans watched him go, as if debating whether to follow, then checked the people around them. No one seemed fazed; the few paying attention were pleased to see justice served, and at least one man indicated Frisk and made congratulatory gestures at him.

Sans was more than content to stay like that, but Frisk elbowed his side, wiggling her shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered, removing his arm. "Just tryin' ta stay in character."

"It's fine. You were just pulling on me a little." The High Priestess discreetly adjusted her long black wig, one of many from her predecessor's collection. She took a sip of spiced cider, impressed that he hadn't spilled any. "This is fantastic! Thank you for standing in line. This isn't too much for you, is it?" She gestured at the crowds. "Do you want to go somewhere quiet for a bit?"

"'m doin' okay," he said, but he hadn't figured out how to lie yet with a human face: he kept twitching and wrinkling his nose at strange smells or touches, and every time he scratched his neck or ear, he visibly startled himself. "'s not like I couldn' feel anythin' at all before. This is just...more." The wind picked up, and his eye twitched again.

It would have been funny if she hadn't felt so guilty. "Here." Frisk took his free hand to guide him toward a side street, marveling at how different a human hand felt than a ten-foot skeleton's—smaller, of course, but rougher, and somehow a little colder. She felt his fingers tighten and just as quickly relax, trying not to squash her. She squeezed back, and had another pang of guilt as he twitched yet again. The poor thing must have felt so overwhelmed!

The alley was cold and dimly lit, but almost silent. She released him and wrapped both hands around her mug, examining the little spices floating in the amber liquid. "Have you ever tried cider before?" she asked over the rim of the glass.

"Nope." Sans took too deep a sniff and recoiled, then brought it up more cautiously. "I had some dried apple slices once, but nothin' like this." He took the tiniest sip, smacking his lips the way she'd specifically told him not to. "Huh. Not bad." Another, bigger sip. "This's pretty good. Ya sure I can't try one of the drink-drinks they had?"

"No alcohol, Sans. We don't need you getting drunk and taking us the wrong place by accident at the end of the night."

He made an eloquently disgruntled sound, and gulped down more cider.

Frisk leaned against the wall, shivering in the breeze. Sans moved to block the wind for her, and she murmured thanks as he hunched his shoulders. The collar of his overcoat was trimmed with white fur, his shirt a bright red; his borrowed face wasn't handsome, Frisk thought, but the rough features, light hair, and blue-gray eyes made an intense and interesting picture. She liked it.

"Man, that's good stuff," the boss monster remarked, tipping the last few drops out of the mug. He glanced at hers, still half full. "Ya gonna finish that? I don't wanna wait in line again."

This was a far cry from when he'd complained about her germs on that stupid fork, but he was being good – better than good – so Frisk handed him her mug, taking his empty one to the receptacle standing on the nearest street corner for that very purpose.

As she deposited the glass, a sound at the other end of the alley brought her up short. "What's up?" Sans asked at her shoulder.

"Uh..." Frisk listened, and felt her cheeks grow hot. "We should go. We should go back right now." She pointed to the brightly lit street behind them.

Sans wasn't paying attention. "What're they doin'?" To her mortification, he downed the rest of the cider, handed the glass to her, and started ambling toward the source of the noise.

"Sans!" The priestess grabbed his arm. "I said—"

They both froze as a small, motion-activated floodlight clicked on and fully answered his question. "Huh," he said distantly.

"Sorry!" Frisk half shouted at the couple, who...why were they still going?! She dropped the mug and yanked back to the street, wondering how anyone could be that drunk already!

When she risked a glance at Sans, he looked thoughtful. "So...what was that? How were they not freezin' their butts off? You'd think they'd at least find someplace they could sit down and keep their clo—"

"Yes, you'd think!" For the first time, she wished the wind was colder on her face. The priestess stepped over to the first booth she saw. "Excuse me, ma'am. Where is the ferryman?" she asked hurriedly.

"The ferryman?" The woman behind the counter looked up and frowned in thought. "I don't know that he's here yet, dear. If he is, you'll find him near the old well on the far side of the square."

"Thank you very much." Frisk retrieved a two-dinar piece from the pockets of the dress she'd been sure to wear because it had pockets, and set it on the counter. "This way, S—honey."

"The hell are you guys talkin' about?" Sans asked as they waded back into the street, Frisk hanging on to his arm and ducking against him as crowd physics required.

"Remember, I wanted my fortune told? On All Souls Night, you're supposed to bob for apples and use the peels to tell the future, so actual fortune-tellers like to set up here. For years, I've been hearing about a man who uses some sort of card deck and is never, ever wrong. He always shows up near the river, so everyone calls him the ferryman. The problem is that he's never here at consistent times. He also charges anywhere from two hundred to a few thousand per fortune."

Sans was gaining sufficient knowledge of human society to say, "Holy shit, that's a lot. Are ya seriously gonna waste that much cash on some random guy playin' with picture cards?"

"No, I've spent all my money," Frisk said loudly, glancing around in case someone was listening, and he got the hint. The festival was fairly safe, but anything could happen in a large crowd; she was more glad than ever to have Sans with her.

They battled their way forward, the boss monster going first to carve out a path and the priestess steering him with a hand on his arm or back. "Let's stop for a minute," she said, on tiptoe, as they paused to let someone to cross the street the wrong way. "See over there?" Down a nearby side street was an avenue full of tables set with white cloths, portraits, and tiny candles. "Those are all the altars for departed rulers and other public figures. Can we take a look?"

Sans waded them across and, when they were clear of the worst foot traffic, said to her, "Never seen one before. When we have a funeral, yer loved ones spread yer dust on somethin' that meant a lot t'you, 'n that's it. They don't need ta be reminded what ya looked like every single year after that."

Frisk shrugged as they turned a corner. "There's nothing wrong with rememberi—"

The words died as they faced the other side of the street. "Oh, damn," Sans said, surprised. "Look who it is, Fr—honeypie."

The priestess numbly followed him to join several other people around a large, opulent table, boasting golden candles, a lacy cloth, fresh flowers, and a huge portrait in a gilt frame. It showed a lovely woman standing on what looked like an opera stage and waving to the audience. Her white gown almost glowed in the stagelights, as did her crown of golden flowers; more flowers lay at her feet, as if thrown by the audience, matching the bouquet cradled in her arm. She was looking up, probably smiling at someone in the balcony.

A cold hand seemed to have closed around Frisk's throat. Why hadn't she realized this would be here? "Yes?" she croaked.

"Dunno if you heard about her when you were a kid, but her name's gotta be in yer history books." Sans was tapping on the brass plate under the portrait. "I'll be damned. They actually spelled it right." He traced the engraved letters by candlelight: CHARA DREEMURR. "You know the story?" Frisk shook her head blindly. "Seriously? Welp, she fell into the Underground as a kid, and the royals adopted her. She was basically our princess till she grew up an' went back t'the humans...I wanna say it was a little over twenty years ago. Then she came back with that last delegation as a goodwill ambassador, just in time ta get blown up. Poor Tori didn't stop cryin' fer weeks."

Frisk made a politely sympathetic noise and turned away. Sans leaned in to squint at the picture, poking the canvas the way people were not supposed to. "That's messed up. Ya know what this is? This's the way her last performance shoulda ended. That's the stage they set up for her, and that's what she was wearin' that day. It was right in the middle of her last song when the thing that was supposed t'do the lights expl—"

"Are you all right, miss?" someone asked nearby. To his horror, when Sans turned around, Frisk was sitting on the curb with her head between her knees. An older man and his wife were standing over her; the woman looked up as Sans zipped over. "Is she with you?" the latter inquired.

"Yeah. Hey, sweetheart. What's wrong? Ya feelin' sick?" Sans crouched to look into her face, but she didn't move.

The older woman clucked at him like a misbehaving horse. "Look at her shaking! Get her inside and warmed up, young man!"

"Okay, okay." At a loss, Sans stood up, and crouched again. "C'mon, hon, let's go. D'you need a piggyback ride?"

Frisk was quiet, but after a moment, he received a faint nod. The boss monster turned and knelt, and the older couple helped settle Frisk on his back. "Thanks," he said as they moved away, and set off in the direction they'd been heading before their detour. At least there were some nice humans, he mused. It was a better thought than wondering what was wrong with Frisk, or how weirdly easy it was to pet-name her.

He held on tight, but not too tight, as he rejoined the crowd. Frisk was too short to hold onto his neck without throttling him, so they'd tucked her arms under his for warmth and security. She was shivering, and he could feel her heart thundering like she'd just run a mile. Everything about her was as impossibly soft as he remembered from...was it really just this morning that she'd hugged him? It felt like a year ago.

Someone jostled them, pushing her leg into him. Sans instinctively turned and snarled, "Watch where yer goin'!"

The erstwhile skeleton hadn't meant to raise his voice so much, but he didn't regret it: the crowd hastily gave way as he stomped towards the nearest building. He'd kept such a tight rein on himself since they left the castle that as long as she was acting as though this was all normal, he found that he could, too; it was actually kind of fun. But now he found himself glaring around them, almost hoping someone else would bother her. He didn't know whether it was a normal body-guarding mindset or if he'd simply gone too long without killing something.

They entered a candy shop with displays of sugar skulls, candied apples, and bottled cider. Sans found a chair against the wall and set her down, making sure she could sit up. "Heya. You okay?" he asked as she raised her head.

"I'm...I'm fine." It was as lying a lie as he'd ever heard, but Frisk did look better. She rubbed her arms and glanced around. "I'm sorry about that. ...Can I please have a caramel apple?"

Sans would have given her the entire display case – the entire store – if she wanted. He still had some "allowance," as he called the portion of his salary she'd given him before they left, and procured two apples and a bottle of cheap cider for them. She tried a sip of the latter, didn't quite make a face, and tore a huge bite out of her apple instead. "Better?" he asked.

Frisk nodded blissfully. "I didn't think I was that hungry," she said around her mouthful. "We should get a turkey leg on our way through the square."

He had no objection to that, especially when he tried a nibble of caramel apple and got his teeth stuck. Frisk held in her laughter fairly well, and nobly volunteered to eat the rest for him.

She did seem better, so he allowed her to walk, ignoring the little whine in his SOUL that wanted her closer. The festival was in even fuller swing now, but he plowed his way through to a turkey leg stand and got one for them to pass back and forth as they walked. It tasted as good as it smelled, which was amazing.

Sans was on the verge of stopping to ask if she knew where they were going when she tugged at his sleeve. "There's the old well. See the river? Let's start there."

As it happened, they didn't need to start there. No sooner had they looked at the wharf than a streetlight switched on to reveal a heap of black robes smack in the middle of the street, seated behind an oddly carved table. Both the robes and the table turned in their direction as Frisk jumped and Sans held out a protective arm. "Tra la la," said the robes.

People behind them had noticed and were starting to surge forward, fumbling in their pockets. "The lady first," the fortune-teller ordered, stopping them in their tracks.

Feeling unusually self-conscious, Frisk stepped around Sans and stood in front of the table. She had a feeling that she didn't want to look too hard under that hood; its whole figure was disquieting. "I have two questions," she said. A glance behind them confirmed a growing, impatient press of people standing a few feet away, kept at bay by Sans' glare. "Er...can I ask you privately?"

"You can't." The otherworldly voice was very matter-of-fact. "More detail, more money." There was an impressive pause. "Tra la la," it added helpfully.

"I...see." Frisk dug into her pocket and flipped the lining inside out. "I saved all year for this," she said, in case someone saw that she had placed a thousand-dinar piece on a shadowed part of the table.

"Tra la no, you didn't. Ask."

The priestess cleared her throat. Fortune-telling was all in the phrasing, so she had to be very careful. "Why did the thing from my nightmares want me to hurt him?"

A tiny flash of blue under the hood. She expected to see cards or some other divination tool, but it merely said, "He does not belong here. The child has unfinished business with him, and you are its strongest connection." The figure seemed to look at the coin for a moment. "If you want to know more, don't ask me. Beware the man who speaks in hands—he won't charge you. Tra la la."

The people waiting behind them were unimpressed, and Frisk was lost, but Sans made an incoherent sound. She looked at him, but no explanation was forthcoming, just a strange expression.

Well, if there was a chance Sans could tell her something, she wasn't going to try to get more on that subject out of the strange fortune-teller. "Second question," she said, trying not to let her voice wobble. This was the big one, so she fished another coin out and slid it next to the first.

The robed head tilted, probably because she'd just put down another five thousand. "Ask."

She swallowed. "What will be the principal differences in my life should I choose to open it, versus leaving it alone?"

There was a hissing sound, as if the figure was breathing out, or in. "An excellent question, Your Eminence." Frisk winced as the crowd whispered among itself, but the voice from under the robes went on, "You're very lucky. Most changes in life result from a thousand tiny decisions snowballing into major events, and there is no telling which of them nudged you in what direction. But you, my lady, are at a crossroads. You have two distinct futures, depending on a single choice."

The people behind them were quiet now, listening in keen interest. Frisk was half-consciously holding her breath.

"If you throw the box away, your life will be much as you expect. You will have a kind, wealthy husband who will take an interest in your happiness and be a loving father to your four children." Frisk's eyes widened, but she didn't dare interrupt him. "Your current efforts will not bear fruit, but they will be baby steps towards your mutual goal, to be possibly realized by your descendants. Your life will be like that of many others, full of little triumphs and large regrets. You will have much, and you will die of old age, surrounded by caring in-laws and adoring grandchildren, able to look back on a life that was...adequate."

"Holy fuck," Sans muttered, and Frisk felt light-headed.

"Should you open the box..." The robes were silent for a long moment. "Tra la la."

Frisk could have killed him, or her, or it. But then:

"Should you open the box, my lady, your worst fears will be confirmed. You will regain more than you ever suspected you've lost. The pain of that sorrow and regret will be unbearable for a time, and they will not be yours alone. But...neither will the joy, or the love, or the power."

Another pause. Was that it?

"Tra la la. You will lose and gain one father, discard and gain one mother, and be richer for it. Your family will be innumerable, though you will bear only one child...who you will attempt to bring to see me at this very festival next year. I will not be here, and you will in fact never see me again, but your child's father will be unable to stop you from coming to check."

Frisk's mouth fell open as the crowd tittered behind them. "Next—"

"You will change the entire world, largely for the better, though you will have to work tirelessly to achieve your goal and maintain peace. You will not die an old woman, but you will have lived five times as much. Your triumphs will be great and your regrets...manageable." The figure sat back. "You may choose only one future. To attempt otherwise will grant you neither."

There was a deeply impressed silence. The crowd would probably have applauded if Sans hadn't slammed his hands on the table and demanded, "Who's the father gonna be?"

More silence. Then the crowd started snickering, then laughing, and then nearly rolling on the ground after the look Frisk gave him. It took Sans a moment to remember that they were posing as a couple, and that casting doubt on her potentially-soon-to-be child's parentage might not reflect well on either of them, and his expression made the people laugh even harder.

The robed figure didn't move, except to look at the coins sitting on the table, then at him. Sans had just enough presence of mind to fumble in his overcoat and randomly toss out two hundred. "There! Also, what happened to Kris? How's my brother doing? Was that lord guy telling the truth?!"

The robes rose and fell in a great sigh. "Don't kill anyone."

They waited, breathless. Sans gestured impatiently. "Yeah? And?"

"And..." The fortune-teller turned to the crowd. "Next, please."

[cassowariess]

unusual asks

1: Do you ever wish you were someone else? All the time. Doesn’t everyone?

2: What is your full name? 

3: How old are you and how old do you get mistaken for?

4: Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes. It’s been pink, red, green, purple, orange, blue etc

5: What’s your eye color? Brown

6: Your opinion about your body and how comfortable you are with it: I’m getting more at peace with it. I have slight dysphoria about my boobs and wish they were smaller/not there. But as I get older I give less of a fuck.

I hate that I have painful physical garbage associated with my body though. Make me part cyborg.

7: Do you have any tattoos or piercings? Only 4 ear piercings. I’ve considered getting tattoos many times but I know if I got one I’d want another and another and another, so I don’t.

8: What would you say is your best quality? My sense of humour.

9: What are you really bad at? I have poor executive function so I struggle to keep up with keeping the house tidy etc.

10: What talent do you wish you had? The ability to play any instrument brilliantly. The ability to properly focus on shit that isn’t an obsessive interest.

11: Are you nice to everyone? No. If people are nasty to me I will be nasty back.

12: What do you think about the most? Depends on whatever I’m hyperfocusing on at the time. Right now it’s Tolkien, and I’m sorry but I WILL be spamming you with more of it, and more Bofur/Bilbo. A long running hyperfocus is moths.

13: Things you like/dislike about yourself:

14: What is your least favorite word? Probably whatever word some alt-right scumbucket is using at the moment, like “NPC” “libtard” “soyboy” etc.

15: What is your favorite word? Penchant. I have a penchant for using it.

16: Are you more like your mom or your dad? My dad in mannerisms/sense of humour. In terms of our political beliefs, however, we are drifting further and further apart.

17: Would you ever smile at a stranger? I have done

18: A reason you’ve lied to someone: To get them to stop stalking me.

19: Are you lying about anything right now? Not that I know of?

20: Have you kissed someone older than you? Yes

21: Do you believe in love at first sight? Nope.

22: Do you believe in soulmates? Nope. I think you can get on very well with people and they can understand you very well, but that’s another thing entirely.

23: Are looks important? Complicated question, because looks mean so many things to different people. What someone else finds hot I might find “meh” and vice versa. However, if you mean someone has to be 100% attractive to me upon first seeing them, then no, because there have been times in the past where I’ve fallen for someone who isn’t my type (physically) later on after getting to know them and their personality, and all of a sudden they become the hottest thing on earth.

24: Opinion on relationship age differences: Don’t care as long as someone isn’t underage, though a much older person dating an 18 year old is a bit skeevy.

25: Would you date someone off the Internet? I have done.

26: Have you ever cried over a boy/girl? Yes.

27: Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have? Yes.

28: Anyone you’re giving up on right now? Not interested in anyone.

29: Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated? I don’t think so?

30: Have you ever liked your best friend? If you mean “in love with” then no.

31: How does someone win your heart? Many reasons, but two always stand out: they need to be funny and they need to be kind-hearted.

32: What turns you on? Wicked sense of humour. Not pressuring me.

33: What turns you off? Trying to force me to do things. For a full list of my turn offs, contact my agent.

34: Do you get jealous easily? This is another odd one to answer, because I can get jealous, but it’s the insecure type of jealousy rather than the possessive kind. Also, it takes AGES for me to build up trust, so I’m not gonna completely feel comfortable right off the bat anyway.

35: What is your definition of cheating? Uh...actual cheating stuff? How many definitions are there? 

36: Do you forgive betrayal? No. I used to but that didn’t serve me well and made me a doormat. 

37: Have you ever been cheated on? Yes

38: Have you ever cheated on someone? No. And I never will. I’ll end up leaving someone before doing shit behind their back. It’s cowardly and vile.

39: How often do you listen to music? Every day.

40: First concert you attended. The Deftones in 2002

41: Last movie you watched: What’s worrying is I can’t actually remember. And I know I watched something recently.

42: Favorite type of movie: Adventure/ dark comedy

43: Is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about? Yeah so I’m not gonna talk about it haha

44: Are you good at hiding your feelings? I do it a lot. You have to learn to do so when you’re bipolar.

45: Do you fall in love easily? No. I wish it was easier but I have some sort of emotional block.

46: Do you think people say I love you too much? They should say it when they mean it.

47: What’s your favorite holiday? Halloween, though technically not a holiday.

48: Are you a forgiving person? Do you like being that way? No. It has served me well.

49: Where’s the most magical place on earth? I’m too out of it to think.

50: What’s your “type”? Oddly differs for men and women in terms of looks. 

Men and women: very good sense of humour (you gotta be funny, innit), trustworthy, kind but no stranger to a good snark.

Men: Dark hair and eyes

Women: Red hair and dark eyes.

[homeinabookshelf]

answer all the numbers

lmao this is going to be a looong post! if anyone cares that much about me, I’m gonna put the answers under a read more!

1. selfie? all of mine are in the tag ‘my face’2. what would you name your future kids? i really love longer name, heard Gwendolyn the other day and really dig it. also really like Persephone, but not sure if i want to stick a kid with that name lol3. do you miss anyone? one of my best friends is in the hospital right now, and even though she’s not far away, i can’t really talk to her soo4. what are you looking forward to? i’m in a place where i have a lot of good things coming towards me. in 2 weeks, i’m going to a youth activism camp that i’m very excited for5. is there anyone who can always make you smile? i’m a dork who loves my friends very much, i pretty much always smile when talking to them6. is it hard for you to get over someone? sort of… i have a lot of passing infatuations, which i usually get over in a couple weeks. if i’m hardcore crushing, it takes me waaay longer (last one took almost a year)7. what was your life like last year? almost exactly today last year, i left for 6 weeks to tour the country with my youth group. don’t regret it, but definitely nerve wracking in the beginning8. have you ever cried because you were so annoyed? yes! i tend to hyperfocus while doing my makeup, and if my eyeliner isn’t right i get very upset9. who did you last see in person? i’m watching my baby cousin sleep right now10. are you good at hiding your feelings? very lol. love that repression11. are you listening to music right now? nope!12. what is something you want right now? i’ve been in a sappy mood the past few days, and I’ve just been hit with an inexplicable craving for a girlfriend13. how do you feel right now? coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine14. when was the last time someone of the opposite sex hugged you? not including family, probably last week at graduation(not mine)15. personality description? umm?? i’m a very fluid person, i can be very sassy and outgoing or super withdrawn based on my mood. i tend to have my head stuck in the clouds. i’m very anxious(it’s the anxiety), and i’m a total mom friend. i really like taking care of people and listening to their problems. 16. have you ever wanted to tell someone something but you didn’t? all the time. 17. opinion on insecurities? everyone has them, try not to let them get the best of you!18. do you miss how things were a year ago? I’ve grown so much as a person over the past year, wouldn’t go back19. have you ever been to New York? all the time! i live super close so i drive over a lot. i want to go to college there20. what is your favourite song at the moment? hard!! Avriel and the Sequoias just released their debut album and it makes me want to take a nap in a cornfield, in a good way21. age and birthday? just turned 17 in june!22. description of crush? just got over a pretty big one… don’t really want to mention in23. fear(s)? people rejecting me24. height? 5′325. role model? ummm so many lol… recently my psychology teacher influenced me a lot so i’ll say her26. idol(s)?  i try not to idolize people. everyone is a person, no more no less27. things i hate? bigotry, hypocrisy, people who make me feel small28. i’ll love you if… you are nice to me (my standards are pretty low lol)29. favourite film(s)? kinda dorky, but i love disney movies30. favourite tv show(s)? been on a steven universe kick lately31. 3 random facts? during a year, a mature tree will take in over 48 pounds of oxygen; one large tree can provide a day’s oxygen for up to 4 people; trees literally reduce the need for a/c or heat if you plant them around your house. (did you mean about me? nah)32. are your friends mainly girls or guys? mostly girls(which i love), but kinda wish i was friends with more guys!33. something you want to learn? ASL!34. most embarrassing moment? my whole life is an embarrassing moment35. favourite subject? psychology or english36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill? i want to get a ph.d, be a foster parent, and see lots of broadway shows37. favourite actor/actress? every single person in the dear evan hansen cast lol38. favourite comedian(s)? don’t really follow any in particular39. favourite sport(s)? i’ve never sported intentionally once in my life and i do not intend to start now. hockey’s pretty cool tho40. favourite memory? personal.41. relationship status? lmao single as heck, nobody wants to date this loser42. favourite book(s)? answered43. favourite song ever? hard!!!!!!!!! anything by Anais Mitchell, or the Mowgli’s44. age you get mistaken for? i’ve gotten everywhere between 14 and 22 (i’m 17)45. how you found out about your idol? lmao nah46. what my last text message says? my last 5 are all thank yous and good nights and i love yous47. turn ons(NSFW obv)? girls & guys; piercings(nipples, belly button, nose), size difference, deep/raspy voices, “shut up” “make me”, i’m a sucker for bedroom eyes, really into people who are loud during sex48. turn offs? people who are dominant(I am), there’s so many weird kinks that i find uncomfy, but mostly depends on the person i’m with49. where i want to be right now? bruh idk50. favourite picture of your idol? answered51. starsign gemini!52. something i’m talented at? answered53. 5 things that make me happy? answered54. something thats worrying me at the moment? that i’ll lose contact with all my friends over the summer while i’m away55. tumblr friends? not too many bc i’m an antisocial nerd. also too nervous to tag them here bc what if THEY don’t think we’re friends??? it’s a very complex situation56. favourite food(s)?  mac and cheese all the way57. favourite animal(s)? damn they’re all so hecking cute58. description of my best friend?  lets go with Frankie; tol, pale, dark hair, is a cat/dragon in human form59. why i joined tumblr? it’s been like 3 years, i do not remember

if you made it to the end of this, you now know a lot more about me than most people! hmu and tell me things about yourself if you want to be friends or smth

[neuromancer1888]

here we go again

fI was tagged by @porcelaindolls-and-paperflowers , the one who’s random post about Tobias you all may know. *Suspicious coughing*

Rules: tag mutuals you want to get to know better.

Name:  Craven

Star sign: Leo

Height: 167 cm

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs that come up.

Repugnant - Draped in Cerecloth (That live one where Mary explains that they did a demo once. . . twice. . .,

The Damned - Grimly fiendish (or as I call it. Friendly penis)

Captain Sensible - Happy Talk

Ghost - Death Knell

Ever had a song or poem written about you?

YES OH MY GOD I was in a band that never did anything or got off the ground, and my ex was in it as guitarist and I was the bassist. After breaking up because he was mentally and verbally abusive, he wrote this fucked up song about me.  A line that struck me was “Look into the mirror, the devil is you muahahah’ or something. It was hilarious I swear to god. I wasn’t supposed to see it but it was sent to me email anyway? It was totally Priest-level petty(No hate)  and I appreciated it.

Last time you’ve played guitar?

This morning, practicing He is and Demon king.

Celebrity Crush?

Hold your horses this is a long one, but I ‘ll stick to the most important ones atm.

David Bowie, Michael Fassbender, TENDER FATHER TOBIAS FORGE,. 

A sound you love and a sound you hate?

I love the sound of airplanes in the summer when they are suddenly much louder or something?, them old tv’s doing that ‘KUDUN’ when you turn the fuckers on, but I hate the high pitch static they bring. The crackling before the vinyl plays, Yes play me the sound of dust.

I fucking hate high-pitched voices talking loudly. Control your banshee screams por favor, I have sensitive hearing.  Also, anything above the allowed hertz humans supposedly can’\t hear? I get serious headaches despite physics teachers telling me it’s impossible to hear it.

Do you believe in ghosts?

I still need proof. I’d like to say yes but I’m too much of a skeptic to blatantly yell out ‘Yes!’ I do believe in Ghost. *Stares into the camera. “If you have Ghosts. . .”*

Do you believe in aliens?

In a universe so huge we can’t even grasp, still expanding, with a shitload of galaxies and shit in them, how dumb and self-absorbed would one have to be to answer no? If a Waterbear is placed on a planet, it is an alien to that planet. Boom. Aliens. LEave em there long enough and they might even evolve. Shit, we don’t even know what’s in our oceans and seas, wha tthe fuck are we expecting in space? Emptiness and David Bowie? 

Do you drive?

A fucking rad bicycle I do!

Last book you’ve read?

Completed? Because that is The Raven King, but still working on Interview with the vampire. 

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Depends. There’s a distinction between different kinds. Some are ok. Some are nope-dee-dope-dee.

Worst injury?

I once cut off a tip of my middle finger? That’s the worst I can do. Otherwise my *TRIGGER WARNING SO PEOPLE WON’T NAG* meticulously self-inflicted cuts. Those were pretty gruesome when the mood was right.

Do you have any current obsessions?

Every now and then I change, the current hyperfocus is Ghost and Toffee Frappuchino

Do you hold grudges?

Bitch you bet I do. Arnold Derrick Harold Denverson makes sure of that.

In a relationship?

Nah mate. No time and no mood.

I tag @freedomfriend because yesss you bet I will tag you in this shit. Magic divine maker of awesome art and memes. 

[cena316aa]

I feel a little awkward for asking this but could you give me some advice? You probably get this a lot, sorry, but besides stuff you can google and stuff you reblog, are there any other signs of autism? And also, when speaking to an autistic person, what are the dos and donts? (If this is too much, that's alright)

Eyyy!!! It’s okay to feel awkward. I was in your place once asking people online and even in real life. 

There are plenty of signs of autism and for people it varies. As you know, autism is a spectrum so it’s possible that you have a trait that another autistic person has to a stronger degree. For this, Imma tell you my symptoms.

I was considered shy in school. HOWEVER, if somebody brought up an interest, I would speak so much that the other person would not be able to keep up. And, the thing is that I had a problem knowing when to stop talking. On the other end, I wouldn’t speak much. If I was asked a general question, I’d answer it in one word. The person would keep staring, waiting for me to say more, but I would just get back to whatever I was doing. I remember one time in high school, we had to get into partners for a lab project and I was working while my partner kept talking. She asked me about music, and, since we were in biology, I would answer in short sentences. And she kept at it trying to get more out of me until finally I guess I snapped at her. I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t until later on in the day that I realized I had been kinda rude. Verbally, I’ve had a lot of problems in school because it takes me a while to process what somebody said, but since we have to answer quick I’d spit out whatever words were in my mouth. This usually lead to me rambling or confusing the person. Also, I’d have problems with my tone. I think I came off as stuck-up to a lot of people. It didn’t help that I had above average intelligence (apparently a lot of autistics do). 

I do have auditory problems. I watch stuff with subtitles or else I miss some things. I don’t have to, but it’s easier for me. In school, they’d do those auditory tests and I’d ace them but at home I’d have a hard time hearing when my mom called me which lead to her taking me to a specialist. When it comes to sounds like beeps I can hear em so well (sometimes my mom’s phone will ring and I’m the one to point it out), but when it comes to language it takes me a while. FYI, as a kid I had plenty of ear infections. I googled it. Turns out it’s common among autistic kids. 

Speaking of school, I didn’t have any friends for three years in elementary school and I didn’t care. Thankfully, I was never bullied. I didn’t actually make “true” friends until high school. I didn’t consider them my friends until college. And, now, I realized they are what some people would consider “best friends.” It took me nearly a decade for me to see them as such. (as you can tell from this, I suck at relationships)

Also, I tend to avoid crowded, enclosed places. But not in a claustrophobic way. I can’t go into LUSH. If you don’t know what that is, they sell soaps and stuff with strong scents. First, the smell hits me. I like good smells, but if there’s a lot…I just can’t. I avoid perfume areas when I go to Macy’s and stuff. If I have to go through them, as a kid I would hold my breath. I actually still do that. Anywho, back to LUSH. So, it’s a small store. So small. And it’s filled with fragrances. I went in one time. It was crowded. So crowded. I felt my heart start pounding. I was sweating. I couldn’t breathe. My face flushed. I practically ran out. When I say I hate crowded places, I don’t really mean “crowded places.” I love amusement parks! Disneyland, Six Flags, Universal Studios…YES! But they’re open. If I’m inside a store and it’s crowded and there’s so much sensory input…I just feel suffocated.

Continuing the sensory thing, I am sensitive to sounds. I haven’t gone to a party in a long time…YEARS! Because of the music and talking. Also, when people file their nails…uggggh! I can’t! The scraping of a spoon against a styrofoam cup. NOPE! 

I don’t like touch either. I hate it when people touch my hair. Same goes for my things. I have a collection of Pop Figures (collecting is another autistic trait) and my little sister knows not to get near them. One time, my mom accidentally dropped one and I went full meltdown mode. I tried to hide it but I failed. She called me “silly” and told me to grow up because they’re just “toys.” 

Whenever I get anxious, I have a few things I do. I clench and unclench my fists. This usually happens when I’m trying to think of a way to get out of the current undesirable situation. I bite my finger (I do this when I’m bored, too). I tend to chew a lot which is why I try to have gum available at all times. It calms me down. I also bounce my leg when i’m sitting properly. I prefer to sit with one leg tucked under my body, though. I have a thing for pressure. I mentioned I hate light touches…but as a kid I would wrestle (I was obsessed with WWE) with my cousins. I would prefer to get punched in the face than hugged. In fact, punching is one of my self harm things. I punch tile until my knuckles turn red or sometimes bleed. 

Hot weather irks me. I prefer cold. I am extremely sensitive to heat. I can’t go into the kitchen when the oven is on. I don’t really cook. Also, I don’t sweat as much as other people, but my skin gets unusually sticky. When other people are okay with the weather I’m practically dying cuz it’s too hot. Also, I hate heaters. I never use them. My parents never do either. I’m so glad! But when I moved in with my college mates they did use the heater and at night I’d feel like somebody was strangling me. 

 I have OCD and ADHD like symptoms, but my psychologist ruled those out because I didn’t meet the full criteria. I have a proper order for everything. I have a thing with numbers where some are “good” and some are “bad.” Even numbers are the best. Prime numbers are the worst. 5′s are acceptable. My ADHD like things involve hyperfocus. I get so caught up in a current activity that if you talk to me I’ll be on automatic and won’t remember what happened. Also, it takes me a while to switch from activity to activity. So, if I’m doing something and you tell me to do something else, I’ll get extremely irritated. I can’t multitask. Oh, and my mind always has to be occupied. Idk how to explain this but in lectures, I’d always doodle in class or if I could use my iPad I would. Not only did that satisfy my fidgeting, but it got my mind working. Chores are a torture because my mind is not occupied. I hate doing them. I love puzzles, video games, watching shows like Hannibal, because they’re like porn for my mind.

I would get grounded a lot as a kid for “talking back” to my parents. I still don’t know what that means. They tell me something. I answered. I got in trouble. I am still confused by that. More currently, somebody would get mad at me and I’d have no idea what I did. And, I’d try to look back on it but I wouldn’t be able to figure it out.

There are a lot of signs I can get into. These are just mine, if you want a more generalized thing let me know, but as I’m aware these things are commonly on the autism spectrum. 

Now, for how to talk to people like me. It’s gonna be different to be honest. For me, I love talking about my interests which happen to be series (aka shows, anime, cartoons) and Marvel. Just be warned that I ramble on a lot about these things. The best thing you could do in that situation is listen and then maybe add your input. Another thing, I know this is dumb and I hate this, but I hate being contradicted. We tend to avoid conflict, so when somebody disagrees with us it’s like “you did not just.” Especially if you’re with an autistic that hates losing (I’m extremely competitive, you have no idea). Also, it’s going to be really hard taking about emotions. I don’t like talking about personal stuff face to face, but if you text me I will listen and give you advice. Keep in mind that autistic people are straightforward so if you’re upset about something we might end up giving it to you straight. Don’t come to me for comfort cuz it’s hard for me to provide. I mean, I can try! But, it might not be what you want. 

But, just talk to us how you would with anybody else. We might need you to repeat stuff. We might end up changing the subject to one of our interest. We might ramble. But, most of us are trying. Just help us out if you see us struggling in a conversation. If you befriend an autistic person, you gain the most loyal friend you’ve ever had. :)

See, even on here I rambled a lot LOL! Hope my rambling didn’t confuse you. Thanks for your curiousity! 

[nothingman]

Is the far left going to stay overwhelmingly white and colorblind on issues of race?

This week, the internet was set ablaze with hot takes relating to former President Obama’s decision to get paid to speak at a health-care conference. The conference was organized by Cantor Fitzgerald, a bond firm, which apparently makes it an enemy of state to the far left. The consensus among the far left is that Obama’s decision to get paid to speak is evidence of political corruption.

On its face, this is just an absurd statement with no basis in fact: Obama is legally barred from running for President again, and his wife, Michelle Obama, has repeatedly indicated she has no interest in politics. How can the money be a bribe for the Obamas if they have no future in public office?

But when you dig deeper to the root of the criticism, you start to see some ugly truths about the far left and race in America. You start to see why Sanders’ movement was overwhelmingly white and struggled mightily to get the support of the people of color they needed to have any chance at winning the primary. There is a major disconnect between Sanders and his followers and the majority of Black voters in this country, and the latest spat with Obama is just the most recent indication of that.

Bernie Lost The Primary Because He Couldn’t Connect With People of Color

In order to properly talk about the disconnect between people of color and the far left, we have to talk a bit about why Sanders lost in the primary. His message primarily targeted the white working class and focused on “economic” issues versus “racial” ones. He rejected identity politics and had virtually no political capital with minorities even after decades in Congress. As a result, he lost Black voters 75–25 and Latino voters 65–35. His backers will point to Sanders winning the youngest overall cohort of people of color, but his turnout rate with this demographic was so poor that it was ultimately irrelevant. The far left uses Clinton’s turnout rates in the general as evidence of her being a “poor” candidate. Why are Bernie’s horrible turnout rates among young people of color not used as evidence of him being a poor candidate that couldn’t connect with Black and Brown voters?

Stop Calling It ‘Identity Politics’ — It’s Civil Rights

By the middle of the primary, Sanders had said the diverse southern states “distort” the race and had abandoned any efforts to campaign there. We hear a lot about Clinton not campaigning in Wisconsin, but pretty much nothing about Sanders abandoning the south during the primary. With the diverse Democratic base in the southern states being a major reason why Sanders lost, you’d think that his movement would make a major effort to reach out to Black voters and find a way to meet them on the issues that they care about.

Nope. Instead, we are seeing a doubling down on a focus of the white working class and hostility to identity politics.

The Vitriolic Criticism Of Obama Highlights Black Voters’ Problems With The Far Left

In late 2016, nearly 9 out of 10 Black voters approved of President Obama. To many Black voters, he is the symbol of success for Black America. You might not agree with everything he has done, and I certainly haven’t agreed with everything, but you have to respect him for what he means to Black Americans — making it to the height of American politics and withstanding eight years of racist attacks. Sanders and his movement see Obama as symbolic of evil neoliberal corporate interests. Therein lies the disconnect. The far right holds disdain for Obama for some of the same reasons that the far left does: They see him as beholden to special interests instead of “those of the people.”

Black people can see this, they aren’t stupid. They see that the political fringe on the left and most of the right hates Obama for some of the same reasons. So when the far left comes out and says that the first Black President should be held to a different standard than Presidents before him — that he doesn’t deserve to get paid for his post-Presidential work or shouldn’t be compensated — the Black community feels that one of its largest symbols of success is under attack from an overwhelmingly white political movement.

Why does the far left believe the first Black president should be held to a standard of making less money? Why does the far left believe that the first Black president doesn’t deserve to be compensated for his work? These are the issues that resonate with the black community.

Why does the far left believe that the first Black president doesn’t deserve to be compensated for his work?

The rebuttal will be, well, the money is corporate, the money is from Wall Street. Well, nobody in the far left was coming for Sanders when he invested his money on Wall Street. Nobody on the far left was coming for The Young Turks when they took $4 million from Republicans. There are a plethora of organizations and publications on the far left that take big money from corporate donors, Republicans, and Wall Street investment bankers. But they are not viciously attacked for making money or taking in millions in donations. Why do they hold the first Black President to a standard they don’t hold themselves to? They haven’t just come for Obama either. They’ve heavily criticized activist DeRay and the Black women behind Safety Pin Box for making money for their work, accusing them of being beholden to corporate interests.

When Obama, DeRay, or Safety Pin Box is making money, all of a sudden the far left has a problem with it. But when their own organizations and publications are taking Wall Street or corporate donations, there is no anger, no criticism, no vitriol.

The Co-creator Of Safety Pin Box Explains Why You Should Pay Black Women

Do you see how Black people see this? How we look at this and say “They don’t want Black people to succeed or to be represented in politics, business, or media? They don’t want Black people to make money?” This is a movement that hates identity politics, refused to campaign in the diverse southern states, and calls out prominent successful Black people for getting paid for their work. Vox wrote an article saying that Obama shouldn’t have taken the money not because it was corruption (it clearly wasn’t) but because the optics could make it appear so. Well, think about how the optics of how the far left appears to Black people. From a Black perspective, you can see how the far left and the far right’s criticisms of prominent Black people appear very similar?

No Democratic Candidate Can Win The 2020 Primary Without Black Voters

Without Black and Brown voters, the far left is dooming itself to remain a fringe sect of the Democratic Party. They can never achieve the majority they need to enact the changes they want without massive support from people of color. But right now, it doesn’t seem like they are making any effort to reach out to people of color or come into their communities and hear about racial issues.

Bernie has long had a hyperfocus on the white working class, and maybe that’s what the fierce criticism of Obama and Clinton is all about — the far left trying to appeal to white workers who don’t really like Democrats that much. If the far left is trying to appeal to the white working class through criticism of Obama, it is a tactic that won’t have much success. By using the same “corruption!” attacks on Obama that the far right makes, all the far left is doing is alienating the same Black voters they need on their side to make any meaningful change to the Democratic Party. And there is no evidence that the white working class likes Bernie’s message more than a traditional Republican; I think Teachout and Feingold’s performances with mostly white electorates show that clearly.

Without Black and Brown voters, the far left is dooming itself to remain a fringe sect of the Democratic Party.

Currently, the far left is moving down a path that doesn’t get them the white working class and pushes away Black and Brown voters. This is a path toward remaining a permanent minority in the Democratic Party, especially as the Democrats become more diverse every year. Is the far left going to stay overwhelmingly white and colorblind on issues of race? Or will they come into Black communities in the south and talk to preachers, community center directors, afterschool program volunteers, and actually learn how racial discrimination isn’t just some issue to be dealt with after economic populism?

The answer to that question could determine the future of their movement.

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The Far Left Is Still Out Of Touch With Black Voters was originally published in The Establishment on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

via The Establishment - Medium