Anyways I’m so happy that we got a deeper look into the person that is Justin “Ransom” Oluransi, an undergrad senior afraid of moving away from his best friend, a son afraid he’s only living his life for his parents expectations, a pre-med student who recognizes that studying medicine for another 7 years may not actually be the most healthy choice for himself.
I’m so proud of him for knowing he’s not ready, that he needs a break, that he wants to take care of himself for a while.
why am i just now finally looking at stuff on ffa????
also like js but why mock “introverts” when u could just say u hate autistics
The introvert/autistic overlap is so high that questions about being an introvert are part of the “aspie quiz”.
Every list I’ve seen of “what it’s like to be an introvert,” or “the care and feeding of your introvert friends,” or whatever, is made up mostly of autistic traits.
The crossover is so high that most autistic extroverts I’ve known, including myself and my partner, were absolutely sure we were introverts until we found stuff that other autistic people had written about what being an autistic extrovert is like.
Because even if you’re an autistic extrovert, you’re still the person at the party who’s off in the corner bonding with the dog, or who leaves hours early, or who needs to recharge after hanging out with people for an extended time.
Because animals are safer and easier and more fun to bond with than people, and because a large group of people and/or a less-familiar environment can be sensory hell, and because of the toll of navigating all the social cues.
okay so there’s this going around which i love and adore but also please consider:
dex hitting it off right away with whiskey, for whatever reason. they become fast friends. dex kinda takes him under his wing, they spend a lot of time together.
So you want to make an OC?: A Masterpost of Ways to Create, Develop, and Make Good OCs!
i made this masterpost in hopes that it helps you in making your own OCs ah;; it can also apply to developing RP characters i suppose! if you’d like to add more resources then go for it sugar pea (´ヮ`)!
Like, I’m totally down for the salty!bro deadpan-master aloof-as-shit Whiskey but hear me out:
Shy Whiskey. Actually maybe even painfully cautious, and not like in a cute-nervous-anxious way but in a way like maybe he came out of a walking-on-eggshells home environment. Follow his eyes –
they’re almost always focused directly on other people’s faces even when they’re not looking at him.
Like he’s watching people trying to figure out where the lines are, how they’re responding to things.
And when he talks, it’s very small questions about the language he’s supposed to use (“swawsome?”) questions about the people (“Harvard law school?”) and he demurs, “Whiskey’s fine” like he doesn’t want to rock the boat, don’t call attention.
Like yeah, maybe he’s too cool for school, but just maybe he’s a guy used to skating on the thinnest of ice and he’s holding his breath waiting to see where the cracks are gonna be.
“villain attempts to go back in time to kill superman as a small child, gets shot in the face by ma kent, who buries him behind the barn with the others” would probably have niche appeal as a comic but i don’t care, i want it
The first time a man from the future showed up at Martha Kent’s house, Clark Kent was two years old.
According to his birth certificate, anyway. She just kind of accepted that the details were a little fudged. Relativity, and all.
Maybe the stranger would have succeeded in whatever it was he wanted to do, except that he really did just show up. Appeared, like a ghost made flesh, right in the backyard. Clark, thank goodness, was out in the fields with Jonathan. He couldn’t bear to be alone, that boy, and they could never bear to leave him.
Which left Martha free to shoot the ghostly intruder in the face.
Martha had not always considered herself a shoot first, ask questions later sort of a person. But that was before she found a baby in a spaceship where her corn was supposed to be.
They’d switch off, Jonathan and her, who got Clark and who got the shotgun. Martha got the shotgun more often than not. Guns made her husband uncomfortable. She was hardly a fan, but she’d always been a terrible pacifist. Too determined to defend herself.
The sight of all that blood and brain and bone was still nauseating. She compartmentalized, told herself it was no different from slaughtering a cow; didn’t think about riot gear or tear gas or the friends she’d lost or all the things she’d moved away from when her heart couldn’t take it any longer. This was different. This was her son.
She prodded the corpse with her foot. It remained a corpse. A real nasty looking corpse, all big and burly and holding a gun much too large. She didn’t like making assumptions based on appearances, but she didn’t imagine he’d been coming for anything nice. She bent down to search his pockets, found a metal wallet and flipped it open.
Born 2018.
Well, hell. Wasn’t that just a kick in the pants?
Probably she ought to have been a bit more unsettled than she was. But she’d been waiting two years for someone to show up on her doorstep, men in black or UFOs or something. Hell, she’d half expected her sweet little boy to hatch into something worse.
Just because she brought home space babies didn’t mean she was a damn fool.
Jonathan had rejoined her in long strides, was holding Clark in such a way that he couldn’t see the corpse on the ground. “Well, shit,” he said.
“Eyup,” Martha agreed.
“Don’t look government.”
“Nope.”
“We burying him?”
“I’ll bury him,” Martha said, standing up. “You get Clark inside and read him a book or something. I don’t want him seeing any of this, getting him messed up in the head.”
“You sure? Looks heavy.”
“That’s why we have a wheelbarrow. I’ll stick him out behind the barn, might as well keep all our secrets in one place.”
Martha had a long time to think as she dug a time traveler’s grave. There were a lot of reasons someone might travel back in time trying to kill her kid. The first was her instinct as a mother, which was: he was a fucking asshole. Who killed a kid? Fucking assholes, that was who.
Now, it was also possible that her sweet little boy grew up to be some kind of space Hitler. She didn’t think she’d raise that kind of a kid, but she didn’t suppose there was any parent who set out to raise a Hitler.
Still didn’t sit right with her. She didn’t much like the idea of killing baby Hitler, either.
just moving along like everyone else 