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metalogs2022-09-03 09:23 am
mostdangerousbird) wrote in metalogs2022-09-03 09:23 am
Entry tags:
hi my name is [silent protag]
Who: Tim Drake mostdangerousbird
What: Attending one of Frances Starling's support groups
When: Mid-late August, a couple days before the event started, to better coincide with the conversation he had after the meeting with Frances
Where: A basement room in a community center in Central City
Content Warnings: Will be added if needed
What's the best way to meet someone and not be caught out in a lie? Why, it's to be yourself, of course. Any kindergarten would be able to explain that not lying is the best option.
As Tim's unwilling to completely be himself, he's opted for putting himself into a vulnerable position and letting the resultant awkwardness and discomfort cover for any hesitance or subpar impromptu lies. The metahuman that leads this support group, Frances Starling, wouldn't take kindly to someone trying to get face time with her by "sneaking" into a support group, so he's ruled out her support group for clones. While Tim's very curious to know what the current climate is like for the average clone experience, he'd have to invent so much if anyone asked him questions.
The one for sidekick metahumans - okay, that he could work with. He doesn't need support for it - being a Robin comes with membership into a ready-made sidekick support network, the other Robins. It would certainly be awkward to have to talk about that experience, but he knows he never could. If he'd gone with that one, he'd have to invent out of whole cloth, because attending as Robin and talking about Batman is such a ridiculous plan that he never even considers it. He'd have to be like, Panacea Pal, and the stand-in for Bruce could be Cloak-and-Doctor.
Far too much to keep straight.
So... he won't. Keep straight, that is. There's a group that he can attend without crafting a complicated lie. The disguise isn't a lie; it's strategic window dressing. While Tim tells himself it's because he doesn't want anyone to connect the new kid at the group to Tim, the Ascendant employee, or to Robin... the oversized Friday the 13th hoodie, baggy black jeans, and blue wig are more because he's not sure that he is ready to be connected to this group either. The number of people who have gone into the room would already more than double the number of people that he's out to.
Tim heads in exactly on time for the LGBTQ+ metahuman support group, which is set for 7, but doesn't actually get going until 7:10 to allow time for a few stragglers. The regulars seem to absolutely expect this delay. They all give big, bouncy hellos and mill around a folding table with drinks, a couple bags of chips, and a plastic supermarket bakery container of sugar cookies. The flaming Cheetos go quick. Tim hovers at the outskirts until it thins out enough for him to grab a Dixie cup of water.
If someone tries to talk to him before the meeting starts, he'll chat, but once the meeting starts, he's going to try to blend in with the dingy beige linoleum. He won't offer anything to share, and Tim doesn't feel like he's qualified to offer advice on anything. No one wants advice on how ditch a date to stalk someone else, how to break up via written medium, or why it's perfectly fine to lie to everyone in your life. When it's over, he drags his feet on leaving, helping stack chairs and clean up, until he's able to talk to metahumanitarian activist.
mostdangerousbird What: Attending one of Frances Starling's support groups
When: Mid-late August, a couple days before the event started, to better coincide with the conversation he had after the meeting with Frances
Where: A basement room in a community center in Central City
Content Warnings: Will be added if needed
What's the best way to meet someone and not be caught out in a lie? Why, it's to be yourself, of course. Any kindergarten would be able to explain that not lying is the best option.
As Tim's unwilling to completely be himself, he's opted for putting himself into a vulnerable position and letting the resultant awkwardness and discomfort cover for any hesitance or subpar impromptu lies. The metahuman that leads this support group, Frances Starling, wouldn't take kindly to someone trying to get face time with her by "sneaking" into a support group, so he's ruled out her support group for clones. While Tim's very curious to know what the current climate is like for the average clone experience, he'd have to invent so much if anyone asked him questions.
The one for sidekick metahumans - okay, that he could work with. He doesn't need support for it - being a Robin comes with membership into a ready-made sidekick support network, the other Robins. It would certainly be awkward to have to talk about that experience, but he knows he never could. If he'd gone with that one, he'd have to invent out of whole cloth, because attending as Robin and talking about Batman is such a ridiculous plan that he never even considers it. He'd have to be like, Panacea Pal, and the stand-in for Bruce could be Cloak-and-Doctor.
Far too much to keep straight.
So... he won't. Keep straight, that is. There's a group that he can attend without crafting a complicated lie. The disguise isn't a lie; it's strategic window dressing. While Tim tells himself it's because he doesn't want anyone to connect the new kid at the group to Tim, the Ascendant employee, or to Robin... the oversized Friday the 13th hoodie, baggy black jeans, and blue wig are more because he's not sure that he is ready to be connected to this group either. The number of people who have gone into the room would already more than double the number of people that he's out to.
Tim heads in exactly on time for the LGBTQ+ metahuman support group, which is set for 7, but doesn't actually get going until 7:10 to allow time for a few stragglers. The regulars seem to absolutely expect this delay. They all give big, bouncy hellos and mill around a folding table with drinks, a couple bags of chips, and a plastic supermarket bakery container of sugar cookies. The flaming Cheetos go quick. Tim hovers at the outskirts until it thins out enough for him to grab a Dixie cup of water.
If someone tries to talk to him before the meeting starts, he'll chat, but once the meeting starts, he's going to try to blend in with the dingy beige linoleum. He won't offer anything to share, and Tim doesn't feel like he's qualified to offer advice on anything. No one wants advice on how ditch a date to stalk someone else, how to break up via written medium, or why it's perfectly fine to lie to everyone in your life. When it's over, he drags his feet on leaving, helping stack chairs and clean up, until he's able to talk to metahumanitarian activist.
no subject
He can't exactly say that it's cool, his best friend was born in 2991. "It's just that most of the time, time travel doesn't work out the way people intended. In fiction, I mean."