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Post by ral365 on Sept 20, 2013 23:07:38 GMT -5
(Formerly known as "CwacoM: Help!" I've been brainstorming so many ideas for this fanfiction that I've become too impatient to wait until CwacoM 2 comes out, and post what I have right here on the forums. When I DO see the sequel, the updated, in-canon version of this same story will be posted on Deviantart and probably Fanfiction.net for more of the internet to see. But you guys get an exclusive sneak peek on a chilling Halloween/Asperger CwacoM fanfiction you won't regret. Enjoy! )
CwacoM: Creepy with a Chance of MonstersIt was October 27th in Swallow Falls. Enough of the town had been cleaned up from the food storm for everyone to have their homes and businesses restored while still keeping the territories of the Foodimals contained. However, not even a takeover of a food-based wilderness kept the citizens from planning their annual Halloween party. The fact that they practically lived in a land full of its own treats made it even more exciting for the residents. “Chicken” Brent McHale was the partying master in town. He and his gang of “dudes,” young men in their early to late 20s, formed as a committee to plan this year’s town-wide celebration. They were currently gathered at a picnic table in the community park. Flint Lockwood stood about 5 feet behind the group, writing down whatever ideas Brent and his friends pitched to each other on a small clipboard. Brent started by putting a large, brown sack on the table. “Ok, so this year’s theme is gonna be were-somethin’, right? Sooooo….were-chicken!” Brent had slapped on a realistic chicken mask. Flint’s eyes went wide, but the rest of the gang gave a resounding, “YEAAAHHH!!!” A muscular, brunette chimed in next. “Ooh ooh, and instead of bobbing for apples, we could, like, bob for turkey legs and beer!” “YEEAAHHH!!!” Flint raised an eyebrow. “Uhh, do you guys pretty much agree with every idea you say?” “YEEAHHH!!!” Brent smirked. “And let’s not forget the groupees!” Flint observed Brent and his friends’ behavior as though he were trying to interpret a foreign language. They had mannerisms and a sense of humor that filled to the brim with masculine stereotypes: head butting, burping contests, armpit farts, smashing soda cans against their heads. And yet, Flint was completely unfamiliar with these stereotypes, or even that they were stereotypical at all! Did the average guy really behave like this? Was there a purpose to what they were doing? What did they have to gain from seeing who can burp the longest, or crushing each other half to death with hugs? Discomforted from being the odd-man-out, Flint took a few steps back, nervously staring at the ground and twisting his hands together. Brent noticed his old friend standing in the back. “You ok, bro?” “I-I’m just kinda nervous. I haven’t been with a group of guys my age in…well, ages, and I guess I dunno what guys do for fun, or at least how you have fun.” Brent smiled. “No sweat, dude! Just follow my lead!” “Uh, thanks, er, dude, heh.” “There ya go!” However, fitting in with Brent’s friends was tougher than Flint had expected. He gave himself a bump on the head trying to crush a soda can against it. His attempts to “pit fart” resulted in a much more embarrassing, real one. When the guys joined in for a dog pile, Flint clung onto the tree branch everyone had jumped off of, shivering and refusing to look down. At one point, the brunette gathered up some carved pumpkins and brought them to the table. “Ok, just got this totally, wicked crazy idea! What if we make helmets outta jack-o-lanterns?!” Flint smiled a bit. “Uh, ok! I could probably make some sorta Carvinator or something to get the right-“ WHAM! The brunette simply slammed the orange vegetable on his head, forming a helmet out of the hole he’d just made with his cranium! Flint’s eyes went wide, but Brent and the gang cheered. “All right, man!” the former baby shouted. “Lemmie try!” Brent made himself a little dizzy at first, but his head was thick enough to withstand the impact of the jack-o-lantern being fit on it. Flint struggled a bit just to pick up the heavy pumpkin with his lanky arms. “Carrying…panting…all right, here I go.” “OW!!!” Flint collapsed to the ground in a daze, and the pumpkin rolled on the grass without so much as a single dent on it. Brent and his gang burst out laughing, shouting, “That was awesome, dude!” and “Totally wicked!” and other seemingly complimentary exclamations. However, Flint sat there with sad, wide eyes, looking more emotionally hurt than physically. Brent helped the dizzy scientist up. “You ok, Flint?” Flint wobbled a bit as he got back on his feet, still keeping one hand on his head. “Y-Yeah, I think so.” Then he glared back up at Brent’s friends. “Actually, I should say no, considering how everyone was just laughing at me!” The brunette smiled. “Aw, nah, dude, don’t be like that. We were laughing with you, not at you.” A ginger gave Flint an affectionate noogie. “It’s all good here, right, Flint?” Just then, the ginger gasped and let go. The knuckles he just used to rub Flint’s scalp were wet with blood! “AAHHHH!!! MY HAND’S BLEEDING! MY HAND’S BLEEDING!” Flint felt the top of his head and looked down on his hand. “Uhh, actually…it’s ME!” The tips of Flint’s fingers had blood on them as well! Brent and his friends were dead silent for a mere 2 seconds, until… “AHHHHHHH!!!” They were all running around in circles with their hands in the air in sheer panic. Fortunately, Officer Earl was nearby. He was just giving Joe Towne a littering ticket for spitting gum on the ground when he saw Brent and his friends screaming. With a few flips in the air, he made his typical landing in front of the gang. “What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on here, bois?!” Flint struggled to maintain his balance. “Earl, I cut my head. I need to get to a doctor, fast! And please, no flipping around or jumping this time. I’m getting kinda woozy…” “Not a problem, Flint Lock-WOOD!” Earl carried the injured inventor on piggyback, and raced off fast enough to outrun a speeding ambulance driving next to him. Brent and his friends froze in shock for a minute, stunned by Earl’s fleeting feet, but then promptly followed behind, sweating and tiring out within the first quarter mile.
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Post by ral365 on Sept 20, 2013 23:14:44 GMT -5
Chapter 2
A frantic Tim Lockwood burst through the entrance doors of the Swallow Falls Emergency Room. He raced toward a secretary at the front desk.
“M’am, where’s my son? Where’s Flint?!”
“He’s still undergoing treatment, Mr. Lockwood. But we’ll let you know as soon as-“
A male nurse walked out of a double-door with a clipboard. “Excuse me, is Mr. Tim Lockwood here?”
“Yes, I’m Tim.”
Tim pulled back a set of white curtains to find Flint lying in a pink, elongated patient’s chair with bandages wrapped around his forehead. He gave his son a warm hug as soon as he saw him in his sorry state.
“Dad, thanks for coming.”
“Flint, what happened to you?”
Flint gave a sheepish grin. “I, uh, heh…had a run in with some jack-o-lanterns.”
A black, female doctor, dressed in pink scrubs, approached the two with a smile. “He had an inch-long cut on the top of his head, but he’s recovering just fine. Just don’t exert yourself for the next few days, Flint, and in about two weeks, you’ll be ready to have your stitches removed.”
The doctor turned back to a set of computer monitors. “Now I just need to do an MRI on you, and you’ll be all finished.”
“An MR-wha?”
“It’s basically an x-ray for your brain. It’ll check for any internal damage.”
Flint lay down on a tan cot, which moved him underneath a towering, ten-by-four foot tube like a conveyer belt. A royal-blue light shone over his head, and in a matter of seconds, a variety of x-ray images of his brain appeared on the doctor’s computer monitors. There were also colored, digital clouds scattered throughout the images, like the radar on a Doppler weather map. The doctor observed the details with extreme focus.
“Hmmm….interesting….”
Tim approached her in confusion. “What? What is it? Is Flint ok?”
“Your son’s brain is just fine. It’s just…”
The doctor looked back at Flint, and then whispered closely to Tim. “Did you know your son has Asperger Syndrome?”
Tim’s eyebrow shot up in shock. “…Uhh…come again?”
The doctor looked at Flint again and spoke loud enough for both to hear. “I said, did you know your son has Asperger’s?”
Flint sat straight up and covered his bottom with both hands. “What?! I-I have…? But how did…? Whaaaaaat?!!”
The doctor gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Oh boy. Flint, according to your brain structure and the levels of activity in your grey matter, you were born with a mental disorder known as Asperger Syndrome. It affects your behavior, your interests, and how you interact around other people.”
Flint’s eyes grew wider as the doctor went on.
“You see, Flint, you weren’t born with the social skills that come naturally to everyone else, so when you hang out with people or try to make friends, a lot of what seems normal to us can seem very strange to you. Things like sarcasm, body language, figures of speech, understanding jokes, all those subtle mannerisms that people share are completely foreign to you. It’s like being an astronaut on an alien planet. The residents around you have a completely different way of behaving than how you’re used to, so you have to try to understand these people in order to make friends.”
The doctor paused. “Do you see what I’m trying to say?”
Flint shook his head to snap out of his stun. “…Y-Yeah, I..I think so. So…I have trouble understanding other people because I wasn’t born with the parts of my brain that would’ve helped me do that?”
“Basically. But the good news is that Aspergers also makes you incredibly talented in a specific subject. There are plenty of Aspies who become real geniuses in skills like math, music, art, or in your case, Flint, inventing, and Aspies love their talents so much that they can excel higher than anyone could imagine. And you’ve accomplished so much with your special talents…”
Tim stumbled over his words for a moment before speaking in outrage. “How did we not know this sooner? Not one doctor, teacher or counselor ever even mentioned anything like that to me, my wife, or my son when he was a kid!”
“I wish I knew myself, Mr. Lockwood. Most of the doctors born and raised here in Swallow Falls act like they’d never even heard of it.”
Flint stared off into space. In his mind, he could imagine a montage of Parent Teacher Conferences he and his parents had been to throughout his childhood, one teacher after the next sitting at their desk talking to Flint’s mom and dad in private.
--
Kindergarten. “Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood, I’m very concerned about your son’s behavior.”
First grade. “I highly recommend that he be taken to a special ed class.”
Special Ed Teacher. “Perhaps you could try a counselor.”
A child therapist. “He needs to be sent to charter school.”
Charter teacher. “Catholic School?”
Nun. “Repent thy sins!”
Private teacher. “Homeschool him.”
Fran slammed her coffee mug on the kitchen table with a frustrated groan. “I don’t believe this! None of these teachers actually want to help Flint! They just want to get rid of him so he’ll be someone else’s problem! Yes, he has trouble interacting with other kids, but for goodness sakes, he’s not a monster!!!”
Tim put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Now now, take it easy, honey. Don’t exert yourself. You know what the doctor said.”
“I don’t care! I can’t stand the way those heartless monsters treat our son like-like he’s not even human!”
Fran buried her hands in her face and sighed. Tim gently stroked her back. “…Maybe it is better that we homeschool him for a while. I mean, who’d be a better mentor for him than you?”
Fran looked up at her husband and smiled through her tears. “...You’re right. Flint deserves much better than this. I’m going to give him the best education he can get, and maybe, we’ll figure out a solution to his social problems along the way.”
A ten-year-old Flint was hiding at the top of the stairs, eavesdropping, and smiled at his mother’s kind words.
---
The present-day Flint snapped back into listening the doctor’s conversation with his dad.
“I transferred here from New York City, and in the rest of the states, Aspergers was made an official diagnosis around the late 90s.”
“Flint was in high school by then.”
The doctor frowned. “That must’ve been tough.”
“Well, he did get into college and graduate, so he couldn’t have been that bad.”
The doctor smiled at Flint. “Well, there ya go. Seems to me you’ve risen above whatever social problems you may’ve had growin’ up.”
Then Flint started to recall events in his more recent past that rendered the doctor’s point null and void.
---
"You seriously spend a lot of time alone."
“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a da-da-a-activity, with me, tomorrow…”
"SNOWBALL!!!”
"Can you keep a secret?” “NO.”
“All the kids used to taunt me with this lame song." "Hee-hee-hee…go on.”
--
Flint shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Even after all that time with the food storm and everything, I still have a lot of trouble with some people. And now, I don’t blame ‘em for not liking me…”
The doctor put a gentle hand on Flint’s shoulder and gave him a warm smile. “It’s not your fault, Flint. You had no idea. And look at how far you’ve come! You’ve become the biggest hero in the whole town! These smaller problems can easily be fixed. You just need some social skills training to help you get better at making friends.”
But it seemed Flint didn’t even hear what the doctor just said. He was still staring down at the ground with a depressed look on his face.
Then the doctor handed Tim a business card. “Call me if you want to schedule another appointment with me sometime. I can introduce you to some counselors I know personally that’d be more than happy to work with Flint.”
Tim forced a smile. “Thank you so much for all your help, Doctor…”
“Nancy.”
“Right, Dr. Nancy. I’ll, uh…I’ll call you back later this week, after my son has had some rest.”
“I wish nothing but the best for both of you going forward.”
Flint turned around and forced a smile. “Thank you, Doctor, for everything.”
But then, the scientist slumped back into depression as he and his Dad walked out of the ER together. Dr. Nancy watched them leave with an expression of grave concern.
Brent and the gang stood up when they saw Flint go by.
“Yo, Flint, you ok, buddy?”
“What’s wrong, dude?”
“Is your head ok?”
Flint turned to the guys. “My head’s just fine guys. I got stitches for the injury. It’s just…well, I was just diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.”
Brent’s eyes went wide, but his friends suppressed very loud snickering and giggling.
“What did you say?”
“I said I was just diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome.”
“BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!”
All of Brent’s friends guffawed with laughter, making the other patients and doctors in the waiting room stop and stare. Flint’s face turned red with embarrassment, and he burst out through the double-door exit.
Brent glared at his gang. “Nice goin’, guys!”
“Aw, c’mon, Brent! Asperger Syndrome?! How can you not laugh at how funny that sounds?”
The brunette stopped laughing, and looked confused. “Wait, what about burgers now?”
The ginger chimed in next. “Anybody else gettin’ hungry?”
Tim smacked his hand against his forehead with frustration.
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Post by smf on Sept 21, 2013 9:16:41 GMT -5
This is great! I love it.
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Post by ral365 on Sept 21, 2013 12:45:59 GMT -5
This is great! I love it. Thanks! What do you like best about it? Is there anything you think I could fix or improve on?
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Post by smf on Sept 21, 2013 12:55:25 GMT -5
No, all of it's actually fine! Can't wait to see what you've thought up to happen next!
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Post by Yellow Dragon on Sept 21, 2013 17:32:35 GMT -5
Hmm. That's an interesting beginning, although it seems I have seen such one in some other fanfiction. Was it yours too? And also I see something in Flint's behaviour here that not quite fits him. I suppose, he should be a bit more optimistic and active and, at the same time, cautious regarding his "weak points", like when in the movie he understands that he looks silly or weak he immediately tries to hide it.
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Post by ral365 on Sept 21, 2013 17:33:33 GMT -5
Chapter Three
Flint spent the rest of the day cooped up in his lab. Most of the time, he lay on his bed, hugging his knees against his chest, staring off into space again. Instead of depression, however, Flint was lost in a thick cloud of anxiety, his eyes nervously wandering in different directions.
“What does this mean for me now, Steve? I’ve been mentally handicapped all my life, a-and I’m always gonna be. How am I gonna tell everyone I have something like Aspergers?”
Steve perked up from chewing on a sardine can. “Burgers?! Hungry!”
Flint groaned and buried his head under his pillow. “Not you too…”
Then Flint gasped, and clung the pillow closer to his head. “Does this mean that I can’t spend as much time in my lab anymore? I mean, I like being with friends like Sam or my Dad, but I don’t even like spending time with guys like Brent’s friends. What if people start treating me differently? I won’t even be able to say its name without getting laughed at…AHHH!!!”
Flint nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the doorbell ring. But he quickly regained his composure, and looked out the window to see Tim waiting by the elevator door.
“Y-Yeah, Dad?”
“Hey, son. You doin’ ok up there?”
“Y-Yeah, I’m ok, I guess…”
“Can I get you anything? Maybe something to eat?”
“Thanks, Dad, but I’m not hungry right now.”
Tim sighed. “Well…I stopped by a yard sale this afternoon, and I picked up a buncha stuff that might come in handy for another invention.”
Tim placed a cardboard box full of junk in front of the elevator, like a tennis racket, a black motorcycle helmet, and a yellow siren, among other things. Flint then took a closer look at the helmet, and in a matter of seconds, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“THAT’S IT!!!”
--
Flint toiled away in his lab with a sense of haste and timidity in his demeanor.
“Measuring!”
“Researching!”
“Rewiring!”
“Measuring again!”
“Connecting!”
Steve was slumped over his pet bed. “Sleeping…”
“Initiating power source…”
Flint took a car battery, and connected it to the modified motorcycle helmet with a pair of jumper cables.
The police siren flashed on top of the helmet, revealing Flint’s newest creation. There was now a horizontal row of four toothpaste caps on each side of the helmet. The caps were modified to resemble tuning knobs, as one would see on a radio or vintage television, and had a vertical, clear, plastic meter above each knob. On the far right, toward the back was a genuine tuning knob, the size of a man’s palm, with the words “On” and “Off painted on the helmet with white permanent marker. The same marker had also been used to decorate the helmet with Flint’s signature, jagged-line pattern.
“Behold, Steve…the Brain Transmogrifier!”
The pooped-out capuchin just lay in his pet bed, snoring and drooling.
Flint gently shook him awake. “C’mon, Steve, wake up! This is important! With this device, I can give myself social skills that I was never born with by changing how my brain thinks.”
Flint pointed to a diagram on a computer screen that revealed digital, colored images of what he was describing.
“You see, the human brain has these special cells called neurons. Whenever you want your body to do any action: walking, sleeping, talking, blinking, you name it, the neurons connect to each other and those thoughts into your brain to tell your body to perform that action, like how telephone wires send our messages from one phone to another. It also channels our thoughts into our brains whenever we feel a certain emotion, such as when something makes us sad, happy or angry.”
Flint turned back to his helmet, and turned it upward. Inside was a wiry hairnet attached to the top with small, white suction cups dotted on the hairnet, like dew drops on a spider web.
“The Brain Transmogrifier powers up these little suction cups on the inside, and implants them onto my head.”
Flint switched back to the computer screen. “When the suction cups are attached, they’ll emit invisible, yet powerful electrons into my brain to stimulate the neurons. That way, when I try to behave a certain way, the electricity will strengthen my will to do so. It’ll multiply my desire to change by ten! Now I’ll be ten times more likely to get rid of my Asperger Syndrome for good!”
Steve’s head perked up at the last sentence.
Flint let out a sad sigh and picked up the BT. “Because, let’s face it, I can’t tell everyone I’ve got a mental disorder. They’ll think I’m mentally incompetent or dumb, since my brain truly is defective, and they probably won’t stop laughing at the embarrassing name. And I’ll spend a lot of the rest of my life trying to treat my disorder. I’ll be forced to leave my comfort zone a lot more than I want to. Well, no longer. This madness ends now…”
Flint adjusted the caps into specific directions. “Calibrating the appropriate levels of stimulation…”
Then put the helmet on his head. “Helmet on…and now, to turn the dial…”
Flint reached his hand for the On/Off knob in the back with a shaky hand. At first, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His hand just froze there above the knob, his whole body shivering with anxiety. Then, in his head, he heard the voices of Brent’s friends laughing at him, the teachers who thought so little of him. But the memories of his recent social blunders, such as making conversation with Sam or the ice cream snowball fight, made Flint’s eyes go wide with horror. With that, he turned the dial…
Several small sparks of electricity flowed through the helmet and down Flint’s body, making his body tremble with the static shock. The lights and siren flashed, and waves of yellow light ran up and down the power meters above the knobs.
Steve watched his master with wide eyes and nervous steps back. “Nervous…nervous….”
Inside Flint’s helmet, the suction cups were now being inserted onto his scalp, hidden within layers of hair. The scientist bent over and screamed in pain, holding his head with both hands.
Steve dashed off to the other end of the lab. “Scared!”
Flint’s screaming continued for ten more seconds until, finally, the electric shocks died down, and the helmet let out a loud “DING!”
Flint took the helmet off once he regained his bearings. “…Wow…what a ride.”
The transmogrified Flint observed his surroundings and looked down at his body. “I don’t look any different. And my lab still looks like the same old lab.”
“Gummy bears!”
Flint turned to his friend with confusion. “…Why did I bother putting a monkey in my lab? They can’t talk back, and its not like they really think about me like dogs do.”
At that, Steve frowned and stared sadly at the floor.
Flint then went to a mirror and cringed. “My hair looks like I haven’t combed it in weeks. And I dunno the last time I washed this coat.”
Flint tossed his lab coat in a hamper, and put on a light blue sweater over a white blouse. He then smoothed his hair down with a brush, the suction cups still hidden underneath his thick locks.
“Ah, much better. Now I guess I should give myself a new test run.”
Flint walked down the street with a rather proper posture, instead of his usual awkward walk. He didn’t sing or speak a word out loud either. After going down a few blocks, he headed into a nearby coffee shop, where Joe Towne and Sam Sparks happened to be.
“Hi, Sam! Guys!”
Joe and a few passerby’s smiled and waved back, shouting, “Hey, it’s Flint!” and “What’s up, Lockwood?”
Sam smiled back. “Hi, Flint. Nice outfit.”
“Thanks, Sam. How’s your day goin’? I bet the weather business is bright and sunny, as usual.”
Flint and Joe chuckled, but Sam winced at the pun. “It’s going fine, thanks for asking. So, any more exciting inventions coming up?”
“Ah, no thanks. I’m gonna head on down to Joe’s poker night at the bar this weekend.”
Sam chuckled. “What are you talking about, Flint? Last time I checked, you thought Jack Daniel’s was a person with a Russian girlfriend named Vodka.”
“Well, never to late to learn, right? Besides, it’s time I thought of somebody else’s interests besides my own for a change. I’m not gonna be in the lab for quite some time. Looking forward to tonight, Joe!”
Joe Towne smiled. “Great ya finally accepted my invitation, Flint! Get ready to face the cards of your worst nightmares.”
Flint smirked back. “There is such a thing as beginner’s luck. Catch ya then!”
Sam watched Flint leave with a perplexed look on her face. It was great seeing him branching out for a change, but something about his behavior seemed off. He wasn’t going to be in the lab for a long time? This didn’t sound anything like the Flint she knew and loved. Little did he know, Flint was gambling more than just money with his new identity…
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Post by ral365 on Sept 21, 2013 17:35:40 GMT -5
Hmm. That's an interesting beginning, although it seems I have seen such one in some other fanfiction. Was it yours too? And also I see something in Flint's behaviour here that not quite fits him. I suppose, he should be a bit more optimistic and active and, at the same time, cautious regarding his "weak points", like when in the movie he understands that he looks silly or weak he immediately tries to hide it. I'm not sure I understand that last sentence. Would you mind rewording it? ^^; I understand English is not your first language.
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Post by Yellow Dragon on Sept 21, 2013 17:38:21 GMT -5
ral365: Umm, what exactly you cannot understand?
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Post by ral365 on Sept 21, 2013 17:40:55 GMT -5
ral365: Umm, what exactly you cannot understand? What is it about Flint's behavior in this fic that seems out of character? Is it how nervous he is when he finds out about his Aspergers? Also, does Chapter three explain his feelings a bit better now that I've just put it up?
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Post by Yellow Dragon on Sept 21, 2013 18:05:07 GMT -5
What is it about Flint's behavior in this fic that seems out of character? Is it how nervous he is when he finds out about his Aspergers? Also, does Chapter three explain his feelings a bit better now that I've just put it up? Well, it is rather about the way he behaved himself in general. I suppose, he would be more cautious with things that he knew people would regard as weakness in public. Also, Flint just doesn't like to give up. He is optimist, so to say. However, I think I understand what you want to show in your story. That was just my opinion.
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Post by ral365 on Sept 21, 2013 18:33:50 GMT -5
What is it about Flint's behavior in this fic that seems out of character? Is it how nervous he is when he finds out about his Aspergers? Also, does Chapter three explain his feelings a bit better now that I've just put it up? Well, it is rather about the way he behaved himself in general. I suppose, he would be more cautious with things that he knew people would regard as weakness in public. Also, Flint just doesn't like to give up. He is optimist, so to say. However, I think I understand what you want to show in your story. That was just my opinion. Well, Flint hasn't given up in that sense because he's depressed or anything. He's more shocked and overwhelmed than anything else. He's shocked to learn he has had a mental disorder his entire life, and he's worried about any big changes in his life he may experience going forward knowing about his Aspergers. And the fear clouded his judgement. He didn't think about the long term consequences. He just wanted to get out of this situation as quickly as possible, too scared to come to terms with this harsh truth. And he thought making himself normal would make his life more stable again.
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Post by smf on Sept 21, 2013 18:40:28 GMT -5
That last part definitely sounds like something Flint would do (invent something to solve a problem). It certainly makes sense; reacting emotionally and immediately is definitely something I've done (I have Asperger's, too).
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Post by ral365 on Sept 21, 2013 18:51:26 GMT -5
That last part definitely sounds like something Flint would do (invent something to solve a problem). It certainly makes sense; reacting emotionally and immediately is definitely something I've done (I have Asperger's, too). Same, and we Aspies often get rattled by unexpected changes. Also, Flint said he didn't want to leave his comfort zone. As in, part of him doesn't care that he's not as social as he should be. He feels better being in his lab and inventing, and part of him wants to stay that way. So he thinks by simply eradicating the syndrome (unaware that Aspergers MADE him so talented in the first place), he won't have a problem anymore. No more doctors, no more therapy, no forcing himself to socialize more, nothing.
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Post by smf on Sept 21, 2013 18:56:35 GMT -5
Which also makes me wonder; what would non-Asperger's Flint think of the ? Just another useless invention? He certainly didn't seem to care about Steve.
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