#i know this advice is basically just 'practice' which is what everyone says but it's important to me that you know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

books · 9 months

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Writing Workshop Week 1: Show & Tell

Hello, writers of tumblr! It’s @bettsfic again with this week’s generative workshop.

Today we’re doing what might be my favorite class activity: Show & Tell.

You might be thinking, do you teach kindergarten or something? No, I teach college. But my students are often weary, downtrodden 20 year olds who are more than happy to go back to basics. Tumblr—being a website of people who care deeply about things and share that passion with others—seems like a great place to host Show & Tell.

Speaking of basics, let’s first talk a bit about…

The Writing Identity

The goal of many writers is to become better at writing. While I think this is an admirable goal it’s also a complicated one, because good writing is entirely subjective. Everyone has their own definition of what good writing looks like based on their knowledge base, history, and personal tastes. And so I often encourage my students, before they begin their journey of becoming a better writer, to step back and ask themselves, “What does good writing look like to me?”

And that’s the thing: you can’t really become a better writer. You can become a more patient writer, with the ability to write and revise multiple drafts of a work. You can become a more ambitious writer, with the ability to write longer stories and deeper themes. You can become a more detailed writer, with the ability to render images and the small details of living that maybe other people don’t notice. Writing is a skill that requires practice, but it also requires joy. You have to enjoy the work more than you fear the potential for failure. And to enjoy the work, you need to honor yourself, your interests, and your ideals. In other words, to become a better writer, you have to become more you.

I remember when I first started writing, I frantically sought out writing advice. I clung to simple adages and rules: active verbs are stronger than passive verbs; remove words like “think” and “realize” and other indicators of your characters’ interior experiences; take out adjectives and adverbs. If you were to adhere to all this advice, your writing wouldn’t become stronger, it would become colder. You would write like Hemingway. There’s nothing wrong with Hemingway, but Hemingway already did Hemingway, and that means you’re free not to be Hemingway.

Don’t we read to feel closer to people, to experience that which we couldn’t otherwise experience? The beautiful thing about prose is that it’s the only medium that conveys consciousness, because language is the way we contain our thoughts, and writing them down offers others the chance to understand them. E.M. Forster in his book Aspects of the Novel says that the only difference between a character and a person is that a character’s secret inner life can be known, but a person’s can only be understood in observed behavior. Novels are stories of consciousness; biographies are stories of deeds.

In my early days as a writer, those inane adages of “good writing” began to weigh on me, and I found myself frequently opening a blank document and telling myself, “I’m just going to write something for fun, for me, and so I don’t have to follow any rules.” Every time, that lawless thing I wrote would become better than anything I’d written when I followed the rules. And in this case, “better” means I was proud of it; in writing as close to myself as I could, I was able to help my technical skill reach the level of my personal taste.

Good writing advice doesn’t spout shallow adages of what should be, it tells you all the things that could be; it opens your mind to possibilities and techniques. “Should” restrains creativity; the entire point of writing is to be creative. To be creative means to make something that has never existed before. And so one of the first things I tell my students is: You already know everything you need to know about your own writing. You already have good and important stories in you. You just have to sit down and write them.

“Show, Don’t Tell”

One such adage that still really gets to me is “show, don’t tell,” which a lot of writers believe. Many people take it to mean that you should describe the exterior circumstances of your narrator in order to allow the reader to interpret meaning. Instead of describing how your narrator feels, these people would rather have you describe their facial expression. But if you’re so interested in rendering the exterior rather than the interior, you’re better off becoming a director.

Others take it less literally: you show your story instead of tell your story, which, sure, is a valid personal belief for your own work but it’s ambiguous and impractical, and also denies the nature of people to tell stories. Fairy tales and fables are stories that are told. Telling stories came long before showing them.

In some ways, “show, don’t tell,” can be useful. If you spend a thousand words of character A lovingly and carefully describing every detail of character B, you don’t then need to say something like, “She was pining for him,” because you’ve allowed your description to do that work for you. So no, you don’t need to say it, but maybe you want to. Maybe you want to make it inarguable that character A is pining for character B; you don’t want a reader to say, “I think she’s paying that much attention because she wants to kill him and she’s looking for his weak points.”

And so that’s what it comes down to—choice. Ultimately, writing is about making decisions, and those decisions are stronger when you understand all your options.

Behind the adage is a more difficult truth to swallow: prose is both infinite in its potential and also frustratingly limited, because you have no control over your audience. You can lovingly describe every snowflake that falls in a blizzard, and your reader will be taking their own meaning from it—for people who can mentally visualize things, it’s the images their mind conjures; for those who can’t, it’s a mass of facts. And there are also those who are sleepy and missing details, or who are skimming to get to the bits they’re most interested in, or who accidentally dropped their book in the bath and now the bottom half of every page is warped and unreadable.

Or you can say, “It snowed.”

No matter what your beliefs are on “show, don’t tell,” the truth is that it’s a false dichotomy. The very nature of prose is to navigate this divide. Some stories call for more showing, for example when your narrator is at a distance, when we don’t have much access to their thoughts or feelings. Other stories will ask you to tell, especially if we’re deep in your narrator’s head and they’re giving us everything. Showing lends itself to setting, imagery, and plot. Telling lends itself to character, voice, and style. One is not inherently better than the other, in the same way that a screwdriver isn’t better than a hammer—the tool you use depends on the task at hand.

Any time you encounter a trite rule in writing, it’s usually pointing to something much greater and more fun to think about. In this case, showing and telling are two integral tools in meaning-making. For this week’s activity, we’re going to use both show and tell to make meaning.

Prompt time!

In Donald Barthelme's essay “Not-Knowing,” he calls objects magical. “What is magical about the object is that it at once invites and resists interpretation. Its artistic worth is measurable by the degree to which it remains, after interpretation, vital.”

So what does that mean? Although this essay is a hot mess (lovingly), part of its intended work is to be a mess. In fact Barthelme describes the mess of his desk and allows it to define him. It’s covered in coffee cups, cigarette ash, unpaid bills, and unwritten novels. In reality, those objects are just objects, but when rendered in prose, they give us an impression of this particular world and the character within it. The writer renders; the reader interprets. The things we own, that mean something to us, are also things that can define us. Who is the person who carries a leather wallet embossed with their initials, with the inside holding credit cards and a stack of neat bills? Who is the person who carries a canvas wallet with a faded Punisher logo on it, attached to a chain, and the only thing inside it is a Subway rewards card?

Objects are important. Especially in this world we live in where so many things have become virtual, tangibility will always be integral to us. We are a species that reaches out and touches. We like to hold things in our hands. We love things which cannot love us back.

For this week’s prompt fill, I want you to find a magical object for Show & Tell. Ideally, it’s something with a long personal history that’s important to you. Maybe it’s the object you would save in the event of a fire, or maybe it’s something you lost long ago.

First, I’d like you to show us the object by describing it. Then, tell us the story of it.

You can write about how you acquired it and the memories it conjures. Allow yourself to link and associate memories and feelings. Don’t box yourself in too much—just see where it takes you.

But you can also put a spin on it. Here are some ways you can do that:

If you want to try fiction, you can write the same story about your favorite character’s beloved object, or you could completely make up an object and its history.

If you want to try something experimental, you can write a story from the perspective of the object, and maybe its beloved thing is you.

If you want to try poetry, write a poem of your object. This is a separate lesson, but T.S. Eliot’s concept of an objective correlative may be illuminating to consider.

The purpose of this activity is to dig through your memories and/or observations, connect them, and use something external to conjure meaning from them. You begin with what your object is and it will eventually lead you to what it means.

Questions? Ask ‘em here before EOD Tuesday so @bettsfic can answer them on Wednesday. And remember to tag your work #tumblr writing workshop with betts if you want her to read your work and possibly feature it on Friday!

And, for those just joining us: @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

#tumblr writing workshop with betts #writers’ room #writeblr #writing advice #show and tell #long post #long text post

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avelera · 10 months

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Headcanon: ADHD Hob and Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

So I went down the rabbithole on ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria (and found this lecture that legit made me tear up if you have or think you have ADHD, go listen to it here) and it got me thinking, as everything is wont to do, about Hob Gadling and how if he had ADHD, which I think there's lots of fun in-text hints at that at least allow that interpretation, what are some other ways that could manifest besides his ebullient and never-ending love of life in all its endless variety?

So as sufferers of ADHD know, it's not all fun and games. The flip side of living with a dopamine-starved brain that's always seeking out new experiences and seeing the world through that lens is that other emotions slam us hard too, like rejection sensitivity dysphoria aka, "the most minor criticism can feel like an actual knife in the chest, no I don't mean mildly bummed out, I mean full on fight-or-flight brain meltdown because someone told you a comma is in the wrong place in your manuscript (not that I'm speaking from personal experience yes it's that dumb)".

ANYWAY, so I'm thinking about Hob and RSD and specifically 1789.

Specifically the line, "It's just how it's done," referring to horrific practice of human trafficking and how Hob basically shrugs while, to his minor credit, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, about the fact he actively profits from this industry, and the way he cringes in on himself when called out kinda seems to indicate that he knows it's a vile practice and isn't super comfortable with being reminded of his fact by someone he respects, like Dream.

A couple notes on that little exchange between Hob and Dream:

1 ) The face Ferdinand Kingsley-as-Hob makes in that moment is absolute textbook adult ADHD rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Namely, the point where you know criticism hits you like a knife in the heart, particularly from people you respect, and you just have to cover that flinch of literal physical pain with a careful poker face.

The way Hob's tone suddenly goes cold and with his very genteel, received-pronunciation manners he levels Dream with perhaps the closest he's ever come at this point to lashing out, "You're giving me advice...?"

I'm not saying that canonically it's RSD, or that neurotypical people don't suffer pain and disappointment when receiving disapproval, but to my eyes at least, Ferdie Hob takes Dream's comment very seriously, much more so than the comic counterpart did (who needed multiple nudges before he even realized what Dream was trying to tell him about getting out of the shipping business and still seemed a bit clueless about why Dream would want that or care by the end).

2 ) Going into proper headcanon territory, I personally chart Hob's journey from destitute to wealthy slave trader as the product of someone who stopped giving a shit about others after everything he suffered in the 1600s. To be perfectly clear, this is not a fucking excuse for it, it's an examination of motives.

Because technically, after everything Hob suffered in the 1600s, he could have emerged with more empathy for the plight of others. But clearly that didn't happen. From an entirely human motivation level, that leads me personally to the conclusion that since no one helped Hob when he was at his lowest (not even Dream, though I dearly wish it was otherwise and wrote extensively on what would have happened if he had) that led him to the belief, put simply, that fuck the world so long as he got his. Why should he care about anyone else if no one cared about him?

But to go back to the topic of this essay, RSD, there's an additional element to that theory on why and how Hob leaned into not giving a shit about others, and that missing factor from what's described above is the element of everyone is doing it. Specifically worded as, "It's just how it's done."

Another really fascinating lecture I listened to on ADHD talked about how the most common trauma reaction ADHDers have to their sense of rejection, shame, and guilt that comes the way our brains react to the world is by hiding. And that also got me thinking about 1789 Hob in this context.

Because Hob as we see him in 1589 is loud in his happiness. He's sitting there, bold as brass in the middle of the White Horse, showing off his wealth with a banquet, loudly declaiming about how he pretended to be his own son twice, worked in the Tudor shipyards (what would have been 50+ years before) and just how he spent the last 100 years working his way up to his knighthood. The man does not have an ounce of caution in him. But, he is also by far the happiest we ever see Hob (up until Dream ditches him in the middle of their date).

This is important because to my eyes, Hob is living openly and unashamed and with only the barest hint of caution typified by pretending to be his own son every couple decades. The way he describes his last 100 years sounds like an ADHD dream, basically getting a boat load of money from Caxton's printing press (basically the first tech startup unicorn of the modern era) and then running around wherever his interests took him where he also made money hand over fist, kept climbing, and eventually reached the point where he could purchase the acclaim and regard of a member of the (albeit minor) nobility. All of this after being born a peasant. That's just validation and money and prestige and getting to pursue your special interest and live as your authentic self all over the place. And I do mean authentic, Hob doesn't even seem particularly worried about talking openly in the White Horse about being 200+ years old, a strong case could be made that he's not that careful in his personal life either.

So anyway, Hob has this amazing century literally followed by the worst century imaginable, filled with the sort of horrors that can tear a man's soul asunder. Losing his family, his beloved wife in childbirth with their new baby, his adult son, his home, his money, everything he spent a century building. His title and name are gone too because of the nature of how he lost it with the accusation of witch craft, which also means he can't just fake being his own son again to get it all back because they're explicitly going to notice that this time.

And how did this all happen? Because Hob got noticed. He lived there 40 years, overconfident is his own words. Which is a wild thing to say about a bunch of witch hunters showing up at his door! He blames himself for being drowned as a witch. On the one hand, I imagine he has to think that way because otherwise he has to admit to the sheer brutal randomness of life, so in a way he's trying to take control of the narrative by blaming himself.

But it also smacks of ADHD again because ADHDers very commonly shift the blame onto themselves after years of their unique nervous system response making them a round peg in a square hole of wider society. We learn over and over that the mistakes we make are our fault, because of "laziness" or "apathy" which isn't apathy at all but deep agony over our inability to accomplish tasks in a neurotypical way without the support we need, but I digress. But it sure sounds like Hob may have been paralyzed by grief for literal decades and then blamed himself for not getting the mental spoons together in that context to move on and reinvent his life after losing his wife and child. Which would be a very ADHD thing to do.

So after this absolutely brutal smackdown by reality for living too openly, too loud, too ADHD, getting paralyzed by the powerful emotions he felt (if we follow the headcanon) over the grief and loss in his life, what is Hob's next step?

Hiding.

Blending in.

Not rocking the boat.

And again, not excusing it, there's plenty of other industries he could have gone into to blend in that didn't involve human trafficking. That said, if he went to sea, which we know Hob did on many occasions from the comic, it would be seen by his peers there at sea as a normal way to make one's fortune, and then.... well, we have as evidence that this is his current peer-group the sort-of pride with which Hob announces how he's making his fortune these days in the "shipping business", as if he's expecting Dream's approval.

That to me, reads a bit like the people pleaser/social chameleon aspect of ADHD. Hob is expecting to be praised for being successful by Dream the way he would likely be praised by his peers in the shipping business or among the wealthy privileged men of England. He's so steeped in that world now that he's clearly taken aback when Dream takes the (at the time more radical but not uncommon) stance of, "This is wrong."

And Hob knew it. But he was blending in. He was going along with how things are done. He wasn't rocking the boat. He has other hints at trauma responses too, "salting money around the world" in case there's political upheaval, for example. This is not the loud, boisterous Sir Robert Gadlen untouched by loss or trauma. He has been humbled and tempered and, indeed, made afraid by what happened to him.

This sort of wild swing towards protectiveness? Again, also ADHD. As the lecturer I linked first noted, ADHDers are textbook defenders. They are always defending themselves from the world that can suddenly, unexpectedly, plant a knife in their heart because of a perceived rejection. From a world that wants their brain to work in a way it doesn't, so they have to come up with myriad painful coping mechanisms to fit in, blend in, mask, and function. Hob was forced to protect himself after the 1600s, so he did, with money, and with not caring about other people, and with insulating himself from privilege, and becoming a social chameleon.

1589 Hob tries to earn back Dream's interest, but he doesn't fawn. Dream shows interest in Shaxberd and Hob, already starting to get irritated, tells him no, Shaxberd is crap.

And you can tell in 1789 that Hob is thinking about that day again when he gets Dream's disapproval, because who does he reference? That lad, Will Shaxberd. He's fearing rejection and abandonment again, or at least it's crossed his mind after Dream's admonishment. But this time, Hob is fawning more, very nearly flirting. He's trying to play the game better this time, trying to keep Dream's interest, social chameleoning the subject onto safer topics, things he thinks will interest Dream, as Shaxberd so clearly did, so let's talk about him if that's what you care about. Again, another ADHD social chameleon, people pleaser aspect. We are nervous empaths, we are constantly picking up a bazillion signals both real and imagined. And we're so fucking terrified of that RSD knife in the heart, we become people pleasers to avoid it. After the shipping business brag fell through, Hob pivots to talking about Dream and what, in his experience, Dream seems to like and talk about favorably.

So anyway, many many ADHD-esque rambling words later, there's a few more little details I'd add to the list of "possible ADHD behavior, not just the fun parts" for Hob Gadling. Is it canon? Maybe not. But it does make for a great headcanon, in my opinion.

#hob gadling #the sandman #sandman meta #adhd #omg this got so long lol that's perfect fits the subject huh

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cosmic-spider · 6 months

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Can you do Jax and Caine with a confession/asking out to y/n hc? Love your writing!

Ok hope I made it up to your expectations I did my best And thanks for the request.

Jack and Caine confesses to reader

Jax

• On this Bunny man would practice in his room for a full week. Change if it every time since when he did it it sounded so cheese to him. After he practiced he got the one he likes that most that was still heartwarming but not to Lovey-dovey

• But for the next Month this man would come up to you and then chicken out half way throw.

•So he would walk up to you then when you focus on what ever he’s going to say. He gets to nervous and then backs out last minute.

•Then because he’s so nervous he would pull a fast prank on you like tripping you.

• As he then runs away like he did in the pilot only leaving a dust outside of his self.But after a bit he got himself together and was able to get you two alone during a adventure.

• Were you need to be in pairs and go find items around the place.

•Caine had pared you and Jax together.( at Jax request of this adventure)As the two of you searched for some items outside the tent. In the debítale trees, lake and in the carnival rides.

• it was starting to get darker as the debítale sun started to set( from Jax request)

• He told you to look in the pop the balloon booths as he went to the rides to check one one time before it dark.

• But instead of looking for the item he got out a two red boxes that most people give on valentines. And a big cartoony bouquet of purple white and light pink debítale flowers.

• He had two so if you said yes to his confession you get chocolate. Plus in case you say no you get a sprinter up fist to the face. So he can pull it off as a joke.When you told his that you expect his confession he was overjoyed.

• what he didn’t expect was for you to kiss him right after the two of you forgot about the adventure.

• you basically told his to come closer to you so you can tell him something as you held the bouquet of flowers and chocolate box in one arm. The next thing he knows you are kissing him on the nose since your not ready for the lips yet.

• Jax’s ears started to rap around them selves and then unknown to him or you his left started to storm on the floor really fastas he blushed a bit of red. in a cartoony thumper type of way.

• As the two of you got back into the tent the others were surprised to see the new couple.

• Ragatha and Zooble made a few snarky comments on how much of a love sick boy. Jack looked like at the moment.

• Jax would try to say something back to defend his self. Until he saw you start to walk of to your room and run after you.

•As he flipped them both of behind you with a blushing face as he walked you to your room.

•Then you gave him a last good night kiss on the nose. As the others laughed at Jax That’s how red he got again after you kissed him,.

• He then walked off to his room and flipped them all off, and told them to fuck off as he then went into his own room for the night.

Caine

• is the type to tell you the moment he found out what he’s feeling for you are.

• but if someone one told him to at least make it more romantic so that it wasn’t boring to you. He would probably go and ask the girls on what to do and on advice on what to say.

• He would most likely bring a notebook with him to write down all of the suggestions.

• The girls give him a few suggestions like simple picnic to maybe a carnival ride to maybe even just separating you away from everyone else during an adventure.

• he would have it all written down in the notebook and then later on after he has all the suggestions, figure out which ones are more likely to be possible with everyone or which ones he thinks he would most likely enjoy.

•After a good few hours of him, trying to figure out what to say do and stuff. He starts to practice it with bubble, kind of like what he did in the pilot at the restaurant scene.

•So after a day or two of practicing and figuring out what he was going to say to you.

•So one day, either during an adventure, or just in your spare time, he would come up to you and tell you to follow him since he will be going on a mini adventure.

•And to make it not seem like it’s suspicious and if you ask everyone else, he would just tell him that he also on a mini aventures to see what everyone’s interest are so you can make better adventures later on.

•After he separates you from everyone else he every now and then looks over at the little notebook that he has with all the things he supposed to say written down so he doesn’t forget as he makes small conversation is Javier things that happened and things that you would like or adventures that you’ve enjoyed

•Then he gets you to the place, he had the planned confession he would tell you to sit down or to play the game if there are any.

• After a bit if you ask him any questions on what he can do to his extent of his abilities. He would show off some magician tricks for basics, and then show you different adventures in the making.

• Then as a final trick he would make fireworks go of as they spell out

{ I love you reader}

{ will you be }

{ My digital partner}

{?}

( in that order)

• If you say yes this AI is over the moon. Literally he picks you up and goes in the sky as he holds you in pure joy as you both float in the sky.

•Plus if you give him a kiss on his tears he. Literally holds still in shock and starts to flow off .

#the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #tadc headcanon #tadc #tadc x reader #confession #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus caíne x reader #the amazing digital circus jax x reader #kisses

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mangoisms · 9 months

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circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter three: this doesn’t feel right | read chapter two

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 6.6k

━ warnings: robbery, gun gets pulled but nothing happens, brief mention of blood, basically canon-typical violence

━ masterlist

━ a/n: decided to include the last minute scene i wrote between tim and steph, specifically the one at the very end. fair warning, we shift to steph’s pov! also my first time writing for a canon chatacter so be gentle <3

“How’ve things been?”

“Like you don’t know.”

Red Robin, you think, sure has the gall to look as smug as he does right now.

After all, it’s not as if he had a point to prove to you. You very specifically told him he didn’t and that you didn’t care what he did regardless of whether he took your advice or not.

Despite the look on his face, he manages to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” you say, a little bit more accusingly than you mean to, following him as he ventures to the candy aisle.

“Alright,” he concedes, not looking at you as he bends forward to peer at the display of gummy candy. “But just so you know, it ended up taking a life of its own. You’ve made a solid impression so far.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. The list of places we can visit like this without having the cops called or worse is very short.”

“But that perception works.”

“Well, sometimes it’s less about fear and more about plain disapproval. Which also does its own job but… tiring, sometimes.”

That… makes sense. The Flash can walk down the street in Keystone and Central without anyone getting all up in arms about it. These guys can’t.

“But it’s necessary, no?” Just curiosity. Not agreeing, exactly.

Red Robin takes two packs of sour gummy worms and straightens, turning away from you to head to the refrigerators at the back. “Doesn’t change the fact that we can find it a little bit tiring. Makes you wonder if you can strike a balance, but in the end, it’s nothing more than an ideal. Fear rules best.”

“I’m sure.”

“Civilian, remember?”

“Yeah, well, this civilian gets to pass judgment since I’m a citizen of this city just like you guys are.”

Seems like they forget that sometimes. Or Batman does. You’ve heard whispers of metas who found out they had powers and attempted to use them for good. Only to be sharply turned away by Batman.

There is something to be said about ensuring not just anybody goes out and does what they do, lest they get themselves and others killed, but the impression you’ve gotten is that he doesn’t allow metas in the city. No matter their experience or skill level. The only exception to the rule, so far, is Signal.

You don’t know. When you were younger, they seemed cool. As you got older, that changed. How could you trust them? How could anyone know if they were trying to do good or if they were just enacting their own convoluted brand of justice? Red Hood’s existence several years ago proved that to you and all the others.

Even if he was trying to set himself apart from Batman or whatever, the fact remains that everyone in East End, in Park Row, in the Narrows, in the Bowery, feared that they might be next. Didn’t matter if you were innocent or not because one’s definition of innocent differed sharply from his—from theirs. And when you were desperate like most people there were, that changed everything, too.

Sure, the GCPD is corrupt and so is the justice system and the government and practically every institution in this city, in this country, but… you just don’t know.

So, maybe he does have a point to prove to you.

Maybe they all do.

“Well, look,” he starts, surprising you as he turns with two bottles of Zesti in hand. “If you want us to stop coming around, we will. No harm done.”

Fine.

Maybe you’ll regret the decision but… it does make them all the more tangible to you.

“It’s fine. Keep coming around. Might discourage anyone from trying their luck and it keeps my shifts interesting.”

“And it’s all about you, is it?”

“If not, find another Circle K to haunt.”

He laughs. The sound is familiar but nice, in a way. Comforting almost. It’s then you shake your head and turn away sharply, trying to push the feeling away.

There’s that, too. Maybe if you can keep Red Robin coming around long enough, you’ll figure out what exactly it is about him that bothers you, that niggles at you.

It should help take your mind off things. Like your growing concern about Tim’s lack of contact with you. You and Steph have hung out twice since she came back and both times he said he was busy. It shouldn’t be something that bothers you, but the fact that your attempt a few days ago to hang out with him alone for ice cream was also shot down with that same excuse. And of course, his sparse replies to your texts.

But he did reply eventually. Just some agreement about what you said about Signal. Didn’t exactly carry the conversation much further but at least he replied, right? Same goes for the shared group chat between you, him, and Steph.

You haven’t spoken to her about it, either, but you don’t want to.

It’s—complicated.

That’s just what your life feels like these days.

Complicated.

Red Robin keeps coming around.

The others come around, too. You don’t see much of Signal working the night shift but you do see Black Bat again. Even Spoiler, though she keeps her distance for a reason you can’t understand. Not to say she is mean or anything. She just waves at you but she never says much else. You’ll hear her and Black Bat talking quietly, though the words themselves are lost on you no matter how hard you strain your ears.

You keep worrying about Tim, of course, and hanging out with Steph, who squeezes in time to see you in between her internship with social services.

For a while, things are calm. The vigilantes who pop up grow increasingly familiar and any wariness evaporates.

Then you get a new face.

The guy walking around the store in the oversized grey hoodie is doing a bad job at robbing you, you think.

Well, he hasn’t actually robbed you. But his hand stays in the pocket of his hoodie, clearly grasping something as he makes a couple circuits around the store. Either scoping it out to see if there is anyone else to worry about or trying to work himself up to it. You think it’s the latter, with how nervous and sweaty he looks.

Mostly, it’s for your own nerves to think that.

It’s been a hot minute since the store was robbed and you were held at gunpoint (or knifepoint). You aren’t explicitly allowed to trigger the silent alarm until either of those things make an appearance, so even with the bad feeling in your gut, you can’t yet do anything.

You are close, though. So very close.

But you don’t have to wait any longer as he rounds the corner and pulls out the gun.

Oh, great.

Before he can say anything, before you can say or do something, the door swings open.

When you both look, there is nothing there.

You wince at the rush of hot smelly air from the outside.

“Who—who’s there?!” he yells, then swings the gun back to you. “What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything—”

The arrow comes out of nowhere.

One blink and it’s embedded in his hand, the same hand holding—previously holding—the gun. You flinch as the weapon clatters sharply to the ground, your stomach churning at the sight of the arrow embedded in his hand, blood dripping; he yells in pain, dropping to his knees.

Then comes the owner of the arrow.

Dressed in black and dark shades of purple, the Huntress is a sight to behold. Her boots are soundless on the tiles. She looks… bored as she talks to someone. Some kind of comm, you guess.

“Yeah, I know, I’m on my way back, I’m picking up coffee. From the—yeah. So he’s gotten to you, too? Figures. What’s the sound—? Oh, just some idiot trying to rob the store. Yeah, go ahead and call the cops.”

You stare, heart beating so quickly you feel a little dizzy, as she knocks the guy out, leaving him to slump on the ground. She kicks the gun further away from him for good measure.

Finally, she looks at you.

The Huntress, a figure you’ve only seen in the newspaper or articles online, mostly grainy pictures, is very pretty up close. Shoulder-length dark hair, olive skin, lips painted a deep, pretty shade of purple, and sharp blue eyes, easily revealed through her mask.

“Are you okay?” she asks, watching you carefully.

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. “Thank you.”

A slight shrug. “All in a day’s work. Coffee?”

“Um. Over there.”

“Thanks.”

You watch, befuddled, as the Huntress steps over the body of the now-unconscious robber and strides to the coffee machine, entirely unbothered as she grabs three cups.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know how you take your coffee, O. Give me some credit. Is Cat coming by? No? Alright, just you and BC, then.”

As the machine sputters out coffee, she comes back over to you. “Do you have any drink carriers?”

“Yeah, they’re over there.”

You point them out, on the other side of the Slurpee machine, and she nods her thanks, grabbing one.

She returns to the counter a couple minutes later.

“So, um,” you start, clearing your throat. “Is there anything in particular I should say to the police about this?”

She tilts her head, confused for a moment, before realizing what you mean.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You can say it was me. They’ll want to see the footage, too. Let them.” She pauses, giving you an appraising look. “Is there anyone you would like me to call?”

“Call?” you ask, confused as you ring up the coffees.

She fiddles with a pouch in her utility belt without taking her eyes off you, pulling out a ten dollar bill.

“Red Robin?”

“Red—no. No, I don’t think… I’m fine, I mean.”

Huntress nods and lets it go, accepting her change.

“The cops’ll be here in a few,” she says. “I’ll be around until then, so don’t worry.”

“Thank you, again.”

She gives you the smallest of smiles. “Like I said. All in a day’s—night’s—work.”

You watch her go, one part of you not wanting her to leave, but the other assuaged by her promise to hang around and make sure nothing and nobody bothers you again.

The police arrive a little while after that. By the arrow in the man’s hand, they already know who saved you, but they still demand to see the footage.

“So, it was the Huntress?”

“Yes.”

“Has she ever come by?”

“No.”

“Have you ever interacted with her anywhere else?”

You pause, barely stopping yourself from narrowing your eyes, because you do not like the accusatory tone this cop is giving you. What did he say his name was? Bullock or something.

You send a silent apology to Sandra Bullock for having to share her last name with this idiot.

“Well?” he asks, burning cigarette hanging from his lips, arms crossed. The smell of tobacco is nauseating this close. What’s worse is you’re outside while the other guys handle things inside. Even at one in the morning, the heat edges on unbearable and the humidity is even worse, making your skin tacky with it.

“No,” you say, a tiny bit exasperated. “I have never interacted with her before this. Why would I want to?”

“You were talking to her.”

“She was talking to me. Asked me if I was okay.”

Unlike any of these assholes who blew in here, sirens wailing, and made you put your hands up as they came in, guns brandished, even though the guy was obviously down for the count. Honestly, they scare you more than the shooter. At least in that moment. These guys can be real trigger-happy.

Now, they’re just a pain in your ass.

You need a Slurpee, you think. No, deserve one. For your troubles.

“It’s cut-and-dry, Harv,” the other detective, Montoya, puts in, having stepped away. She sends you a sympathetic look that just annoys you even more. “Got some calls from a few other convenience stores for suspicious activity. They saw this guy, too, but he always left before doing anything. Guess he finally worked up the nerve to do it here but it didn’t work out well in his favor.”

Bullock grunts. “You run her ID?”

Oh, for the love of—

“She’s clear. We’re good.”

Behind you, two EMTs haul the still-unconscious robber out and into the ambulance, which promptly leaves; a cop with gloves on steps out, the gun in a baggie.

Montoya asks you a few more questions, obviously trying to make up for Bullock’s brusque manner of speaking, but it’s a futile effort. You still cooperate, however, as politely as you can with the annoyance still burning inside you and this damnable heat.

Eventually, they leave, called away to some other incident, cars peeling away from the curb, blue-and-red lights flashing, sirens wailing.

You watch them go, allowing your scowl to come out full-force, your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Bullock’s always like that. It’s not personal.”

“Jesus,” you hiss, heart pounding as you whirl around; it takes a moment for your eyes to pick out Red Robin leaned against the brick apartment building next to the store, his figure mostly cloaked in shadows.

He steps into the light. Despite the nonchalant tone of his previous words, he looks, dare you say, worried.

“Just coming around?”

“No. I heard what happened. Wanted to come and see how you were.”

“Annoyed. And hot. And tired. Come on, let’s go inside. The AC isn’t that great but it’s better than this.”

Red Robin follows you in. You click your tongue upon finding the blood from the guy’s hand still on the tile. So, now you have to clean that, too, on top of the paperwork you have to fill out for the incident. Great.

You jump at the nudge of a knuckle between your shoulder blades. “What—”

“I can clean it up.”

“No, that’s—”

“Let me do it. I have more experience cleaning blood than you.”

“Charming,” you mutter. “But alright, fine. Thanks.”

��Cleaning supplies?”

“First aisle.”

A nod and he turns, cape fluttering behind him.

You rub your forehead, feeling a headache start to form, and continue for the Slurpee machine at the other end of the store.

A few minutes later, Red Robin joins you, wiping his gloved hands with what looks and smells to be antiseptic pads.

“Good as new,” he tells you, reaching for a Slurpee cup, too, as you sip at yours. “Like nothing ever happened.”

You sigh. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

“So,” he starts, holding the cup beneath the tube for… the Zesti Cola flavor? What a complete weirdo.

“Are you—” he stops when he looks at you. “You’re judging me.”

“Who comes in to get a Cola-flavored Slurpee? That’s weird. You might as well just get a bottle of it.”

“Woah. It’s so not the same thing. If there was a drink form of, what do you get? Blue raspberry? Yeah. If there was a drink form of that, would you do that instead? A Slurpee is about the consistency. The slushy factor.”

Okay, that’s fair, but something about everything he just said makes you laugh. Hard.

Maybe the heat is getting to you. Maybe it’s the hysteria setting in. Maybe it’s Red Robin passionately defending his choice in Slurpee flavor and saying shit like ‘The slushy factor’ with a straight face. You don’t know.

“You’re finally losing it, aren’t you?” Despite his words, Red Robin looks almost relieved. He really was worried, you surmise, which is a… touching thought.

You quell your giggles, shaking your head; though the laughter was nice, your head is really pounding now.

“Here,” he says, digging through a pouch at his utility belt, pulling out a mini packet of… huh. Tylenol.

“Tampered?” you ask, taking it from him, anyway.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”

“Again. Charming.” But it still doesn’t change the thoughtfulness of the action; he doesn’t have to. If anything, this stuff is probably best kept for him. Though with their proclivity for putting their lives in danger, you don’t imagine Tylenol would be particularly helpful against gunshot wounds, but still…

“Thanks,” you say, a little quieter now, more meaning in your voice as you tear it open and shake out two pills.

Red Robin shakes his head. “It’s the least I can do.”

You can tell he means it. Which is, again, both touching and maybe a little bit confusing, too.

But trying to decipher why he does what he does is a futile effort.

This is, after all, the same guy who dresses up and goes out fighting the worst of the worst night after night.

Best not to look too closely. Who knows what you might find.

Despite your best efforts, Steph finds out about what happened. Something about the newspaper, which is odd, because you don’t recall seeing the news there—honestly, much more crazy shit happens overnight in Gotham. Robberies are old news.

But either way, you can’t complain too much because you are appreciative of her coddling the next day, which includes, but is not limited to, ordering takeout, burrowing on your crappy couch together, and watching old 2000s movies.

The only thing missing is—

“He said he was busy but he sent me the money for takeout. To make up for it.”

You purse your lips but don’t say anything. That you don’t want his money. You just want—

Nothing.

“We don’t need him,” Steph says determinedly in the next second. Which is a departure from what she usually says—that you’ll see Tim eventually, that his work at WE will let up. You don’t have the energy to ponder why.

You sigh, sinking further into the couch. Steph is warm next to you. You can smell her shampoo. Jasmine.

“I guess not,” you concede in a mumble.

You can’t do anything but concede. After all, it’s your initial avoidance of him at the start of June that caused this, right? And he keeps dodging your calls, your requests to hang out—points in which you might’ve been able to clear the air, apologize for it, but… no.

It’s not like you could track him down. You know the apartments he lives in—down in Old Gotham, in a much more expensive building than your shitty one here in Coventry. But sometimes he spends time at the manor, too, up in Bristol and you can’t ambush him there. You couldn’t. That would be too much. Right?

Trying to find him at WE is a lost cause, too. Not just because they have three given locations throughout the city but because you wouldn’t know if he was in or not.

Or maybe you’re just looking for the easy way out.

Complicated.

Why does it have to be so complicated?

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Red, because that’s what every girl loves to hear.”

“Just a simple observation,” he responds, leaning against the counter, eating a kolach. Your Slurpee cups sweat in the mid-June heat, creating rings of condensation on the scuffed and scratched counter. You watch a droplet slowly roll down, joining the ring of water.

Your eyelids are heavy, dragging with each blink. A dull headache reminds you of your restless sleep and you’re sure the bags under your eyes tell it to the world, too. To Red Robin, specifically.

He finishes his kolach, crumpling the wrapper in one hand, looking steadily at you all the while.

“What?”

“Is it because of what happened last week?” he asks and his voice is frightfully gentle in a way you are not emotionally prepared to deal with.

“No,” you say quickly. “It’s not that.”

The occasional nightmare bothers you but that’s normal. You can deal with that.

“Then?”

You shake your head. God, you are exhausted. You fold your arms on the counter and bury your face there.

It’s quiet for a minute.

The refrigerators hum at the back. The AC makes an odd clanging noise before it turns on. Somewhere outside, a dog barks.

“I’m a good listener,” Red hedges after a minute. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“It’s stupid,” you say, voice muffled.

“Why?”

“Because it’s, like, stupid twenty-year-old drama and not, I dunno, the latest rumors on drug trades.”

Red laughs. It’s a pleasant sound that makes something inside you unwind.

“You should be relieved to hear I am up to date on the latest rumors on drug trades. And also, believe it or not, I do like to talk about things other than crime.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

A soft chuckle. It sounds almost affectionate.

“Come on. Whatever it is, it’s making you lose sleep. That’s not good.”

“Losing some sleep isn’t the end of the world.”

“I don’t know. Feels like it might be for you.”

You grunt, an old memory from Keystone niggling at you. You set it aside for the moment.

“It’s nothing,” you say eventually. “It’s just—nothing.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing,” he remarks. “But if you don’t want to talk about it now, that’s cool, too. If you ever do—”

“Dr. Red, to the rescue.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m not a licensed therapist and I can’t promise my advice is sound, either, so…”

“Don’t sue you?”

“Like you even could. But still, I’m here.”

You want to ask why but that might be too much for you right now.

You let yourself settle with some generic explanation, that he is obligated to ask that as a vigilante, as someone who is generally supposed to be concerned with the wellbeing of the citizens of this city. And also he is trying to prove some kind of point, so this is part of that.

“So,” you quickly say to change the topic. “What are the latest rumors on the drug trade?”

He laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You look tired.”

“Thank you, Flash, that’s exactly what I’d like to hear.”

“Just a simple observation,” he says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Well, rest assured, I have Tim and Steph on my case about it. They’ve both demanded a video call with me tomorrow despite me telling them I am alive and well. Apparently, just saying I’m alive isn’t reassuring. Can’t imagine why. That’s more than enough in Gotham…”

Mother hens, the both of them.

And Flash, too, apparently, though he does a better job of covering it up.

Off near the coffee machine, a melodic hum of Dancing in the Dark, the song currently playing lowly overhead, reaches you. You tune into it, the sound lulling you, both because it’s pleasant and because the song makes you think of Tim and his love for Bruce Springsteen (largely in honor of his late father, Jack Drake). Because of that, you totally miss Flash’s next words.

“—here? Oh, Jesus, Piper! Stop humming. You’re distracting her.”

“Oh, sorry!” comes the apologetic and still melodic voice of the Pied Piper. More normal now, though, letting you shake your head and focus again. Piper comes around the aisle, a big cup of coffee in hand; he gives you a handsome and apologetic smile that you wave off.

“It’s fine—what were you saying, Flash?”

He wiggles his fingers at you. “I’m just curious about those two, that’s all, since they seem very worried about you, oh, practically all the time. Not that it’s unwarranted, of course.”

“I’m fine, Flash.”

He gives you a look. “I don’t believe that but seems like they got it covered so, I’ll let it go. I’m still curious about them, though. What are we talking here? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Both boyfriend and girlfriend? That’s cool, I don’t judge.”

“Are you—what? In regards to who?”

“You, obviously.”

You shake your head quickly. “No. No, absolutely not. Tim and Steph dated when they were teens, they’re exes. That’s weird.”

A bit of an uncomfortable discussion, too, if only because you are… too aware of your own attraction to Tim. A different kind of attraction. One that has you constantly admiring him. Or had you, back when you were in Gotham. With Steph, you know she is stupidly pretty but it doesn’t fluster you.

It's… nothing.

(It has to be nothing.)

“Feelings are a natural part of life, kiddo! Nothing weird about it. Have they been weird about it?”

“We’ve never even discussed the remote possibility of me dating either of them—because that would never happen in a million years.”

“Well, if they’re friends, then it shouldn’t be a problem. You don’t get many exes who can stay friends after a breakup. Right, Pipes?”

“It’s true,” he says easily, and, hold on a fucking minute, is… is the Flash implying that he and Piper dated?

“Yes, we did,” Flash answers and oh, you said that out loud, and this is… a bit of Flash lore that you aren’t sure you ever needed to know.

But still. He continues, shooting a grin at Piper. “And we’re still great friends! Me, him, and my wife!”

“Wife?” you choke out.

Great. More lore.

Piper rolls his eyes. “Flash.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean to give that away but it’s fine, we can trust her. She’s a friend.”

The words would be sweet if you still weren’t compartmentalizing the fact that he is actually married and… apparently dated the Pied Piper at one point. The Pied Piper who used to be part of the Flash’s rogue gallery, then reformed. Huh.

“You—” you point at him for good measure “—have a wife? Someone actually married you?”

Piper bursts out laughing. It’s a pleasant sound you could get lost in… No! Focus.

Flash looks affronted. “I’ll have you know I am excellent husband material!”

Piper, still chuckling, looks at you and gives a small shrug. “It is true. The superhero community isn’t very ripe with it, for reasons I’m sure you can figure out, so, Flash is a bit of a standout in that area.”

“Because the bar is low.”

“Not true,” Flash interjects. “Superman is married. You know how hard it is to compete with Superman? It’s hard. But I manage it. We’re nearly neck-and-neck in terms of husband material, I’d say.”

He ignores Piper’s snort of laughter and leans in conspiratorially. “But you know who isn’t married? Batman. He’s not husband material. He’s not even boyfriend material.”

You look at Piper, who shrugs. “Never met the guy, thankfully, but from what I’ve heard from Flash, I have to agree. The tall, dark, and broody thing can be attractive but—”

“He’s just a sourpuss,” Flash finishes. “No sense of whimsy whatsoever.”

“Oh, and you have that?”

Piper laughs as Flash sputters. “I can have fun! Why do you think I hang around you?”

You laugh. “That’s… Alright. Fine.”

Flash cocks his head suddenly, no doubt listening to the police frequency he tunes into. Piper fishes out a twenty for everything and tells you to keep the change. In the next moment, the both of them are gone, leaving you with a sharp gust of wind and arcing blue lightning that makes your skin break out in goosebumps.

Okay, then.

Your video call is the next day—Saturday—and it goes as well as you think it will.

“You look like shit.”

Steph is more blunt about it, but the sight of Tim’s grimacing face on your laptop screen shows he very much agrees.

“Thank you, my dear friends, it is lovely to see you, too, yes, I’m doing quite well, thank you. And you?”

“Okay, fair,” Tim says, holding up a hand, “but don’t lie and saying you’re doing ‘quite well.’ Someone doing ‘quite well’ doesn’t look as exhausted as you look.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Or boyfriend,” Steph tacks on immediately, not one to miss an opportunity to tag him.

He rolls his eyes. You shuffle around, freshly showered, looking around for your lotion, then remember it’s in the bathroom.

“Give me a sec,” you say to them, heading over to it.

The audio of the video call feeds out from the speakers of your laptop, so you can easily hear their next conversation.

“It’s so hard, isn’t it?” Steph asks

“What is?” comes Tim’s confused question.

“The urge to resist wiring her money. It’s written all over your face, duckie.”

“Like you don’t want to, either,” he shoots back.

A pause.

“Maybe we can—"

“I can hear you!” you call as you go back to your desk, bottle of lotion in hand. They look a tad sheepish as you settle in your chair. “And look, fine, I won’t say to a couple bucks—"

“Define a couple bucks,” Tim says.

“Max twenty—for dinner—” as soon as you say that, they’re both scrambling for their phones. You grimace. “Guys, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Tim gives you a concerned look. “Even your bags have bags.”

You blink. “Did you just… quote Spongebob?”

Steph grins in the other frame. “He’s finally cultured.”

Then they both return their focus to their phones.

A second later, yours chimes with notifications from Cashapp, twenty dollars from each of them.

“Guys… everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Steph says stubbornly. “But that’s fine. You know you can rely on us, right? We’re friends. That’s what friends do. I know Timothy over here doesn’t always set the greatest examples for it—”

“Thanks, Steph.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies without missing a beat. “Anyway, let us help.”

“You’re already helping,” you soothe. “So, it’s okay. This semester is going to be tough but it’ll be worth it. And after this, it’ll be easier, okay? You guys are here now—”

“Not in a way that really matters,” Tim mutters.

“Which is not an invitation to come over here,” you warn—him, mostly. Steph would go along with it but he’d be the instigator.

They both pout.

You smile. Sometimes, it’s hard to handle the fact that you have friends like this. Friends who care so deeply, who love you so much, it feels hard to breathe. Because you know you love them just as much.

“I love you guys,” you say next, because you have to say it, they have to know; it’s hard for you, sometimes, just because it scares you, but after everything, you know how important it is for the people you love to know you love them.

They soften, echoing the words, and that’s enough for you.

Of course it is.

You don’t have much. No parents, no other family.

But you have them.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

A slow blink. “Updating Redbird’s security protocols?”

The garage of Tim’s townhouse smells sharply of oil and rubber. But he isn’t elbow-deep in the engine today, just seated off to the side, laptop perched on his lap and hooked up to its system. ‘Updating’ it. God knows why. The Redbird’s security protocols are just as stringent as the Batmobile’s.

Jason once regaled them with his plan, way back when, to blow it up. Bruce included. And how he went about it.

“It’s got safeguards like crazy, right? Even when it’s idle or shut down. Come up to it, fire a gun, launch a missile—doesn’t matter. Not gonna touch it before the security protocols kick in. It can sense you on thermal, air currents, video recognition, all of it.”

“So, how’d you get past it?”

“SEAL-grade wetsuit. Invisible to thermal with reflection fibers that play hell with video. But the biggest thing? Going slow. And I mean slow. Like five seconds per inch slow.”

The insane attention to detail and paranoia runs in the family, obviously.

Tim had sat in for that. Stephanie remembers the look on his face. Begrudging respect, combined with a familiar twitchiness that told her he was absolutely dying to run out and start updating his stuff.

Question everything. That’s what Bruce says.

Tim tries to separate himself from it. He really does. It gets tiring, exhausting, to live like that. But old habits die hard and his big brain precedes him sometimes. Wondering at the possibilities, at the million-in-one scenarios.

Ordinarily, Stephanie has more sympathy for him. Really. But right now, after your phone call about his little visit to Circle K…

She’s pissed.

“Don’t play dumb,” she says, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“What is it that I’m playing dumb about?” he asks, averting his attention back to his laptop, keys clacking quickly, pausing momentarily as he takes a swig of Red Bull.

She tells him.

At the sound of your name, he stops.

But now that she’s started, she can’t stop. “Visiting her? As Red Robin? What are you thinking, Tim?”

The clack of keys resumes. The set of his gaze on the laptop screen is very intentional now. Avoiding her.

“It’s nothing, Steph,” he says and she almost believes it. But she knows him, so she doesn’t. “It’s harmless.”

“So, why won’t you hang out with us? Her? Because I assume you’re also avoiding her individually.”

A little sigh. Impatient. “I’m not avoiding her. I really was busy. Have been busy. You know how the heat messes with the city.”

It’s the excuse that bothers Stephanie.

Tim is making some kind of choice here. Choosing to favor Red Robin over himself, over Tim Drake, and it makes no sense. Red Robin isn’t your best friend. He isn’t even your favorite vigilante. (Black Canary is. She agrees, though it would be nice for Spoiler to get some spotlight but that is neither here nor there.)

You know who is your best friend? (One of them, anyway.)

Tim freakin’ Drake.

Stephanie knows why he’s avoiding you all of a sudden. The connection will be too easy to make. It’s why she—as Spoiler—keeps her distance. Tucks away her hair, hides her face even more, when she and Cass visit Circle K.

Even though! They had talked about telling you. Stephanie wanted to tell you so badly. You know who her father is. Was. You know how her mom used to be like. You know everything and you never once judged. You were, to be sure, a bit wary of them—the vigilantes—but most were. You wouldn’t turn them away if you knew.

If there is anything Stephanie knows, it is that.

But then she went away to Metropolis for a week and a half and suddenly, he’s visiting you as Red Robin. And he’s not trying to ease you into it, not trying to help you latch onto some clues, to make it easier—because they’d discussed that, too!—he’s doing it because… Well, she doesn’t really know. But there is a reason. She knows that much. A big reason.

It makes no sense to her, considering his feelings. Complicates things unnecessarily. Especially with how he’s avoiding you because of it, because he apparently got cold feet on telling you the truth.

And it’s the excuse… it’s the excuse that pisses her off.

Their relationship, back when they were kids, had some questionable origins. It did. Stephanie did things she wasn’t proud of. He did things he wasn’t proud of. It was messy. She tries not to kick herself about it—about being a silly girl in love, awed at the attention of a boy like Robin, knowing he was dating a girl (Ariana Dzerchenko, her name was, she would later find) and making moves on him despite that, moves that he always, always went along with. Like two magnets that couldn’t help but fall together.

Don’t get her wrong! The blame is not solely on her. It’s on him, too. She shouldn’t have pushed. He shouldn’t have went along with it, knowing he had a girlfriend, too. He shouldn’t have held his knowledge of her identity over her head the way he did. He isn’t mean-spirited at heart but he had an advantage over her. He knew she was Stephanie Brown. She knew him only as Robin and nothing else. Not until later on that would change and that… that was another mess entirely.

But they were dumb and young. Stephanie tries not to hold it against herself. They know better now. She knows better now. Knows what she deserves.

But this feels too close to him crossing that line.

No, he has crossed that line.

Given one persona up for another.

Approaching you as Red Robin, while you know nothing of him, and doing god knows what…

Someone is going to get hurt.

Last time, it was him. The circumstances, Bruce’s unceremonious reveal of his identity to her—a mistake, an egregious overstep—it all culminated in Tim feeling betrayed. Betrayed that Bruce would reveal that to her without Tim’s say so, without even asking him if he was okay with her knowing. Betrayed that Stephanie went along with it.

This time?

Stephanie feels it in her bones.

The person who is going to get hurt is you.

You, clueless about these lives they lead, clueless as Tim monopolizes your time as Red Robin, all the while you have no idea it’s him. You, her best friend. Stephanie loves you to the end of the universe.

She doesn’t want to see you hurt.

The mere thought of it, of the potential fallout, leaves a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Steph. Steph, it’s fine.”

She blinks, coming back to herself. Tim is standing in front of her now, dark brows knitted together, blue eyes intent on her face. Concerned.

“You’re lying to her.”

“We’ve been lying to her.”

“Not like this,” she says quietly. “Not this way. You’re… This is too much, Tim. I don’t understand why you’re doing this. What happened?”

“Nothing,” he says. For what it’s worth, to anyone else, it sounds believable. But like she said. Stephanie knows him. For better or for worse.

And on that end, she also knows he is not going to budge. No matter how much Stephanie wants to drill this into him, grab him by the shoulders and make her point. Once he’s made a decision, he commits.

Or more like he’s dug himself into this grave and he doesn’t (can’t?) want to get out.

“This is a mistake,” she says. “And you know it. I just hope you actually try to fix it sooner rather than later. Because if you break her heart, I’m going to break something of yours.”

Stephanie loves Tim. He’s a great friend. They’ve had their ups and downs—even discounting their relationship—but they’re solid. They are.

But she loves you, too. So much so it sometimes feels like she’s going to burst with it. She’s never had something like that, like this, and in the end, she doesn’t want to choose, but Tim knows better. And because he knows better, you are her first priority.

Even worse, he doesn’t seem bothered by the threat. Relieved, if anything.

“I’m counting on it, Steph.”

Which is so unfair in so many ways (fix it, she wants to yell, don’t rely on me to come clean up when shit hits the fan—do it yourself!) but she’s had enough of this conversation and all the ways this can go wrong.

Maybe he will turn around. Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But she doesn’t think so. He won’t. Not until the consequences of this, of his lies, of his excuses, come hit him in the face.

She wishes it weren’t like that—knowing what it will result in.

But some things you just can’t change.

She knows better with Tim.

She really, really does.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina

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#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x y/n #red robin x you #dc comics x reader #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x y/n

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iztea · 4 months

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They still feel off specially the eyes i could feel them about to manifest their own life and run off

Even my linework is ... Idk what's wrong and it's the problem maybe I'm staring too much but I don't think so

Sorry for bothering alot but i loved your last advice ty

i think the main problem with the first picture has to do with the proportions and anatomy of the lower body area aka the neck and shoulders. i'd make the shoulders wider and add some sort of form to the neck so that it looks believable instead of a flat rectangle shape ( maybe make it slimmer a bit too? although that might be just a stylistic choice so you do you). That's the first thing i'd fix because otherwise the head looks too big in comparison to the rest of the body, and it can throw you off

I actually think you did a great job with the eyes, they have a lot of life and that comes from the fact that they are the most rendered part of your piece, which is not a bad thing. The thing is, while it is true that the eyes are the main focal point of a face and portrait in general, that doesn't mean you can neglect the other parts, so i think it is also a consistency issue or not figuring out exactly what sort of style or rendering you want to go with that holds you back (which is totally fine and normal ofc). So let's pick a semi-realistic stylized rendering style for this since this is the vibe i'm getting from this piece.

If that's the style we're going for, then the face should have a bit more form. You have to remember that our facial features ( eyes, nose, lips) are connected with each other via the planes of the face, right? So, for a semirealistic style, revisit your reference and try to idenitify what those planes are and how they connect to those features, and most importantly, where the shadows hit, and just accentuate them more, because at the moment they look like 3rd forms plastered over a 2d surface which is not right, our skin has form as well. Color-wise, don't be afraid to go darker with the shadows, they really make your drawings pop. Without looking at a reference, i'd def add some shadow under the lips, a bit where the lips connect to the nose, under the neck, and in the lower body area.

I'm really trying to avoid the most basic answer which is " practice anatomy !!1! " because everyone can say that however, at the end of the day, this is the main thing the face lacks. And tbvh you don't have to actually know anatomy, you just gotta know some proportions things that make the face look believable enough. I feel like the features are mostly just drawn from the reference without an understanding of the structure behind it. Something tells me that in the reference picture, the person had their head tilted a bit upwards, but here it's kinda flat and the features are just painted without following the motion. Try to draw over your reference picture the vertical and horizontal lines and make up the head shape behind it to figure out the way it is tilting and facing, because the lips, eyes nose, etc will follow that same sort of flow, they're not stationary. I'd also make the eyes a bit smaller, or maybe make the skull bigger bc i think they are touching the outer edge too much now, and also narrow the distance between the nose and lips just a bit. Kinda hard to explain without actually doing it myself. But really, try to play with that, and try getting comfy with drawing 3d forms i know it's easier said than done but..... there really isn't any shortcut unfortunately As for the lineart drawing, yes it's actually pretty solid, i like that duplicate blur thing you did, i'm familiar with that technique and it def has its perks so that's great. Im not an expert on lineart, however here i think there are too many " unnecessary" lines that could easily be omitted (purple). Less is more and all that~ The hair strands at the end feel too stiff and identical (green). If you notice, they all just end in this " V" shape and they rarely overlap thus making the image look flat. Try to break this pattern by introducing more spontaneity aka random hairflies, making the strands overlap, adding more shape variety etc

Make sure that the lines connect properly whenever they meet, and also although you already did it and i think that's great, you can make some lines even thicker, go even further and add even more lineweight. As a general thing, usually, the exterior or contour lines are thicker and whatever it is inside is thinner so experiment with that, you can start from the nose- thicker lines for the nostrils thinner for that nose tip i forgot what it's called and also add thin lines that just hint at the form. Lineart is hardd so i don't blame you, but if you're gonna keep the lineart in, try "shading" with black blocks so to speak, make sure the lineart layer can stand on its own, and pay more attention to the lower part area (neck and shoulders) even if it is less exciting to ink

#ok i lied it's long again #these are pretty fun to do can u blame me #ask iztea #you should also check in with other people don't take my word for everything #but since you asked my personal opinion here u go #sorry for any typos if there are any i'll fix them later #long post

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zwy01 · 4 months

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Raegyn doodles!

Yaaaaaaa giving my snarky smartass boy some love.

This is my OC, Raegyn Kertia! He is Regis and Rael’s son, and the latter’s heir.

I haven’t gone in depth with his backstory yet, so I figured I could do that lol. He’s one of my 15 “main” characters of my Millennium AU and his full bio is up in my pinned post.

I’ll be mentioning some other names in here too so to quickly recap, Raegyn is the older one of the two Regis/Rael kids and his full-sibling and younger sister is Arya K. Landegre. (Raegyn has three half-siblings, with his elder half-brother Kaelestis Blerster on Rael’s side, and younger half-brother Garyth J. Loyard and younger half-sister Alethea J. Loyard on Regis’ side.) Raegyn has a pretty good relationship with his loving family, buuut it wasn’t always like that, which is the fun part I’m getting to later. Woo!

Raegyn is a really interesting one and I had so much fun making his design and I can’t wait to dive into his story in detail. Let’s get started yaaa! My beloved Ray’s (almost) full backstory.

So we already know that Raegyn is the smartest and most popular of his generation. The star of the show, the center of attention, Lukedonia’s local celebrity… the number one guy. Loved by all, respected by all. Everyone wants to be his friend, maybe even competing with each other for his attention. People constantly shower him with admiration. It’s like he’s walking on the red carpet wherever he goes. People just can’t get enough of him. It’s always “how is Raegyn?”, “what is Raegyn doing today?”, and “I need Raegyn’s advice, where can I find him?”… etc. People are always saying his name, and frankly, he enjoys the attention he receives. Sometimes he thinks it’s funny how he’s not the Lord yet he arguably gets more enthusiasm from the general population than she does. Hah. Hilarious.

Raegyn’s just so lucky, isn’t he? He’s got the brains, a radiating confidence, an irresistible charm, a loving family, and a literal empire of friends… if life is a giant lottery then he had already won it all. Life can’t possibly get better than what it is now, can it? Well, for Raegyn, life is good indeed. Very good.

Everything he has ever wanted gets handed to him easily. If not, he just needs a minute to work it out in his head and say a little something to make the other person give in, and it works every single time even when his requests are obviously beyond reasonable. Basically, Raegyn knows how to use his thinking skills and his natural charm to his complete advantage. Thus life is easy for him.

But because everything comes so easily, life… is also boring. There was nothing to surprise him, to make him go “well that was fresh”. Now what? Life is predictable and repetitive, at least from his experience, because he is so capable of fine tuning things and people to be the way he wants. And the thing is Raegyn does like to be in control of every precise detail in his life, so he would rather have life be a bit boring than to give up on steering everything in his direction. Sometime in his early childhood, he had a single taste of being in control, and he has been hooked ever since. To lose that control would be a big no-no for him. Frankly, without it, he probably has little idea of how to actually live life as it is, which is letting things naturally unfold without his intervention. Yeah. He’d actually physically cringe if he had to stay idle.

This leads to my next point, which is Raegyn’s childhood. Oh boy. How do I even begin. Raegyn is the first child between Regis and Rael, but he’s not Rael first child. Rael is the soul fragment donor of Karias’ heir Kaelestis, who is Raegyn’s elder half-brother. This means Kaelestis is technically Rael’s first child, though the latter is merely a donor in both title and practice. Despite that, Rael was very much involved in Kaelestis’ early childhood as an adult figure, a mentor etc. Kaelestis adored his donor “other parent”, and Rael loved his sweet Blerster boy very much. Donor and son were close and made wonderful memories together, which led to Rael becoming very excited to have his own heir. Maybe even the exact reason why Raegyn was born not very long after Rael and Karias had Kaelestis. (Raegyn was born when Kaelestis was the equivalent of a 6-8 year old human) Rael was more than ecstatic to bond with his second son, his beloved heir, the light of his life. He loved his little boy with all his heart and he couldn’t wait to experience the joy of parenting. He was certain that it was going to be great.

Eeeexcept it didn’t go quite as Rael had expected. Uh oh. The fact that Raegyn didn’t automatically love Rael wasn’t even the worst part about it. Raegyn seemed to despise him. This hurt Rael very much, as he didn’t understand why his heir didn’t want anything to do with him. Raegyn resisted being communicated with telepathically, ignored words spoken at him, never responded to questions, looked away when being looked at, and squirmed with all his strength when any adult tried to hold him. At one point Rael gave up on trying to read Raegyn’s mind because he would find some… not so nice things Raegyn had to say about him, and he didn’t need to break his own heart any further. Rael didn’t know what he had done wrong, if anything. He had already gained experience as a parent from his time with Kaelestis; he learned how to be around kids, what to do and what not to do, and in general just how to handle them. He just couldn’t get his second son to like him. Something is wrong here. Kaelestis was fine with him, then why doesn’t Raegyn like him? And it wasn’t just Rael. Regis was also very puzzled by their son’s behavior, as Raegyn seemed to actively resist him as well. Regis tried to comfort his husband by telling him to not take it personally, because Raegyn… well, he disliked everyone equally. Rael was not convinced at all. Rip. At least Regis tried.

And so this went on for a while, until by complete chance a very tired Regis chuckled something along the lines of “You know what, child? Your behavior isn’t helpful in the slightest, and your father and I are having a hard time. Here, why don’t we make a deal so all of us get the most out of it while we’re still living in the same house?” Boom. That was it. The correct answer. To both his parents’ surprise, Raegyn actually responded. He turned around, stared at his fathers in the eyes, and said “Only if you have something good enough to offer. Just so you know, I won’t settle for less. Very well, Rael Kertia and Regis K. Landegre. Convince me.” Regis swore he heard Rael’s jaw drop to the floor, and he himself was speechless. So their son was capable of communicating with them after all, it’s just that he never did simply because he didn’t want to. The two of them came to the conclusion that their son didn’t like being treated like a child, and they were using the wrong approach the entire time. Regis and Rael thought they were doing the right thing, but they were quite mistaken, as their son needed to be treated as an adult, basically as their equal. None of that kiddie talk, mushy coddling, nonstop love smothering… nope. Interact with him like they would with any other adult? Yep, that got Raegyn talking and assured that they would get milder and even positive responses from him.

That’s when Regis and Rael realized that Raegyn was different, even if they can’t put their finger on it. It was a mix of surprise and curiosity. As impressive as it was, they couldn’t help but feel uncanny. Maybe they were even a bit reluctant to admit that they were uneasy, but Raegyn was their son after all, and they didn’t want to overthink it. I mean, this kid’s first (spoken) words were him trying to bargain with his parents. Maybe their son was just being funny and pranking them all along. They laughed it off, no big deal, all while still keeping an eye out for their unusual kid. From then on they’d modify their approach with their son and things changed for the better and Rael was finally able to bond with Raegyn, though not quite in the way he had expected. Anything is better than nothing, so Rael has no complaints. He might as well beg his son for attention if he really is that desperate.

What about from Raegyn’s perspective? Well, unfortunately, Raegyn wasn’t being funny nor was he pulling pranks on his parents. He was dead serious. He was no ordinary child, and he hated being treated as one. To Raegyn, his parents and the other adults treating him like a baby was a direct insult because he thought the adults were messing with him. That’s correct. Raegyn believed that the adults somehow conspired together and formed a sort of mutual agreement between them where they all treat him like he doesn’t know any better because they think he’s too dumb or something. It wasn’t until later, when Raegyn eventually realized that he himself was the outlier, the odd one out, not them. The adults handled him like they would with any normal noble child. Still, Raegyn disliked it, and it felt disturbing to him. In his eyes, it was like some sort of shallow game of pretend, ill humor that he can never bring himself to appreciate.

That’s why Raegyn purposely ignored the adults even when they demanded his attention, because why on earth would he respond to their silly games? That would just be positive reinforcement and they’d force that shit on him even more. But being the extremely smart kid he is, he is aware of his own gains and losses. He knew he didn’t want to pretend to be a normal kid, he didn’t want to copy their mannerisms just so he could fit in, because that just isn’t him. Blegh. Gross. Reducing himself to their level…nuh uh. But he also figured out that pretending to be one gets him what he wants. To be precise, when Raegyn is his usual self, the adults feel uncanny and have mixed reactions. On the contrary… when he pretends to be normal, they react very positively. Isn’t that weird. Turns out adults like cute kids that act like kids instead of kids that make them uncomfortable by acting way beyond their age.

So Raegyn adapts. Inquire about their day, be enthusiastic and beg to be allowed to tag along, maybe even cry some fake tears when they say no until they say yes. Smile at them and watch them sign boring paperwork all day. Fake interest in their tedious gardening tasks, patrol duty, anything the adults were up to. And when that’s done, ask for new toys and clothes. That shiny ruby brooch? Pout and say you like it very much and want to have it, and Clan Leader is the best dad in the world because he gets what Rayray wants. And with that, maybe a matching bow tie. And a matching silk shirt. And a matching fur coat. You get it. It didn’t take long for Raegyn to master the art of acting and now he’s got everyone wrapped around his little finger. That’s where the fake smiling and enthusiasm began, and he never stopped ever since. Regis and Rael were happy for their little boy, because he finally acted more like a normal child. But deep down they knew he is an outlier, as they had been dealing with his true self until now. They didn’t understand why Raegyn seemingly became normal overnight, but to question that would be useless. Well… at least Raegyn looked like he’s finally enjoying himself now, and that’s a good thing, right? Deep down, they knew something was up. Obviously there was a reason for Raegyn’s sudden behavioral change, but to investigate it would break Raegyn’s trust so ultimately they did nothing and hoped for the best. For Raegyn’s future, and their future together as a family.

Raegyn’s always constantly evolving depending on who he’s dealing with. By the time he was around the equivalent of a 10 year old human, his false persona is such an integral part of his life, he never goes outside without this metaphorical mask. Despite Raegyn’s success at adapting himself into society in the present day, his childhood was a difficult one, at least in the very beginning. It did get better as he got older, but fundamentally, he is still the same on the inside. Raegyn hated how things were structured and the expectations he was obligated to fulfill. Raegyn didn’t understand why he was automatically expected to give his parents his unconditional love, respect, and attention just because they were the cause of his birth and entire existence. That’s the reason? Wow. He never asked to be born, not that he minds existing or anything, but more so it was just weird to him how now he’s permanently stuck with two adults who are way too obsessed with him for their own good, and he won’t be able to get away from them for centuries. His parents got sad when he didn’t respond to them, especially Rael. What did they expect anyway? To Raegyn, things like respect and love had to be earned, and no one automatically deserves it just because of “family” or whatever shallow term they use. And this applies to his own parents as well. If Regis and Rael wanted him to obey and love them, then they have to earn it, and prove themselves worthy. To Raegyn, even if they are his parents, they’re just like any other person out there. They were strangers he couldn’t separate himself from. The point is Raegyn isn’t purposely trying to distance himself from his parents specifically; that’s just how his brain works.

The good news is Raegyn eventually does develop genuine love for his family, which happens during his childhood. It’s true that Raegyn had his doubts about unconditional love and whether that even existed or not, but being the smart person he is, he did pick up on his parents’ love for him. They genuinely care about him, and he… appreciates that. So they were being serious this whole time. Raegyn, who is always right, was wrong, for the first time in his life. Raegyn was finally defeated, in a good sense. It feels good to be loved. But as much as Raegyn was impressed, he was also bothered by something. He was touched by Regis and Rael’s sincerity, and for that he is grateful, but something felt off. That’s when Raegyn realized he was feeling guilt for the very first time, for everything he had done to his parents. To this day, guilt remains the only emotion Raegyn can immediately and correctly identify, which is something I will bring up later. Every other emotion, even the positive ones, he has to think about it.

For the most part, Raegyn is neutral. Even when his little sister Arya was born, he didn’t feel anything. She was just another being he had to live with from now on, just because they share the same parents. Not only was he expected to tolerate her, he was supposed to take care of her. Ick. Luckily Raegyn does develop a genuine bond with Arya, even if it took a long time. They are close as siblings, and Regis and Rael? They were super relieved that Raegyn seemed to accept his little sister immediately, and even more relieved that Arya was a normal child with normal development. To be honest, Regis and Rael were nervous about having their second child aka Regis’ heir because they were afraid that Raegyn would react negatively. Surprise surprise, he didn’t. That is character development right there, from resisting his own parents to welcoming a new sibling with open arms. The truth is Raegyn simply made an effort to prevent his true apathetic self from seeping out because he didn’t want to ruin the moment for his parents. If he were to be honest, well… he couldn’t care less if Arya vanished into thin air on the spot. Raegyn only did it because he didn’t want that feeling called “guilt” to bother him for years to come, so he might as well be nice. Even if Raegyn’s goodwill didn’t stem from true consideration, it was still a massive improvement. He is still learning, but he is getting there… right? Only he knows.

To say that Raegyn doesn’t doubt his relationship with his family anymore, and that he trusts them unconditionally, would be a lie. His parents would die for him, and his sister adores him. He’s sure of that. But on second thought… do they really? This is how Raegyn falls into the perpetual cycle of questioning himself. That’s why he is so conflicted. He feels guilty because he is doubting those he should trust the most, and then he decides to give them his complete trust in order to get rid of that sense of guilt he got from doubting them in the first place, and finally ending it by rescinding that trust because he realizes he was foolish enough to trust anyone but himself. Rinse and repeat. Then again he overthinks it because he just can’t help it. This entire ordeal bothers him, and he would never admit it. In the long run, Raegyn overthinking things would go on to hurt his own ability to make meaningful relationships with people, and that is something I will bring up later.

Now onto the last bits of Raegyn’s childhood before I move to the time skip. I want to mention Raegyn’s relationship with his peers too. Ever since Raegyn’s birth, he has been silently watching and judging everything and everyone. He could be minding his own business, but his eyes were always looking at something. Even if he didn’t want to be a part of whatever the other kids were doing, he wanted to know what’s up, so he observes them from a distance. And he was always disappointed, of course. I mean, this is Raegyn, why wouldn’t he?

They weren’t bright enough to hold an interesting conversation with Raegyn. They got bored, whined, fidgeted, or fell asleep when he wanted to talk about a very long and obscure piece of ancient Lukedonian history that he recently taught himself. Or that time when all the kids just got up and left, when he promised them he was bringing “something super valuable” to their next “playdate”, and everyone expected a treasure map or something and instead Raegyn rolled out a five meter long checklist on how Lukedonian laws can be improved. Raegyn is, of course, very offended. This is his ideal vision of a playdate, after all, because playing means having fun. And this really is what Raegyn thinks is FUN. And his peers? Raegan’s giving up on them. They’re all under-qualified. Every single one of them. Too slow, too dim. Too hyper, too lazy. Too impulsive, too cowardly, etc. They weren’t worth his time, and to spend an extra minute with them was a waste of his energy. Thus Raegyn was a lonely child. He was surrounded by people, yet he didn’t like their company. He didn’t enjoy what they had to offer, yet he couldn’t fit in as himself either.

Raegyn wanted something else. Something more grand, more controversial; something that shakes the very foundation of noble society. History, philosophy, ethics, anything really. The deeper it is, the better. Sometimes even the more taboo, the better, as he likes a good challenge. He wants to hang out with someone who has the capacity to prove him wrong, and reaaaaally force him to get those brain cells working. A good, long debate is more thrilling than the best spar. He needed someone to share that joy of thinking with, someone who truly resonates with his passions. An intellectual soulmate basically. Just a reminder that Raegyn is still the human equivalent of an elementary school kid at this point. He already knew what he wanted in a friend, which is someone who can really match his wavelength, yet this person simply didn’t exist. Raegyn was frustrated. And the thing is Raegyn is an extrovert by nature so he does need a decent amount of socializing to stay healthy emotionally, except there’s no one at his caliber to keep him in company where he genuinely feels fulfilled. This is where things get complicated, and Raegyn is conflicted. He needed that company, but he couldn’t find the right people despite his best efforts. Raegyn was lonely, and his fathers noticed how their son would just slouch and sigh all day.

This would lead to Regis and Rael insisting on Raegyn hanging out with the other kids, because there must be something they can bond over, right…? What they weren’t aware of was how Raegyn was simply at the top, and his loneliness couldn’t be solved with a simple solution, if at all. What about Raegyn? Well, he knew that obeying his parents would cause him less trouble than resisting them, so he obliged. If it makes his fathers happy to see him happy then… he’s willing to pretend to get along with the others for as long as his sanity remains.

So what happened was Raegyn put aside his desire to talk about great subjects and deep matters, and simply went with the flow. He pretended to enjoy their tea parties, tree climbing, fishing, wrestling, etc. It was all so boring and tedious. And then it hit him. Hey… they didn’t whine and run away this time. They reacted quite positively when he pretended to be interested in their shallow activities. They even invited him back. Now that was easy, wasn’t it? Raegyn remembered the tactics he used on his parents and the adults. If he could manipulate them, maybe he could do it to his peers. He did crave that social interaction, and even if what was available to him wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy him, it was still better than nothing.

And even if he honestly wasn’t interested in his peers and what they were doing, the principle of making and having friends wasn’t bad at all. Raegyn already knew that if he made an effort to someone, they would reciprocate it. Take that, and times one thousand, maybe even more. If he shall pretend to be friendly to one person, might as well do it to everyone, because the amount of effort he has to make is the same anyway. And you never know when having a bunch of friends is useful. Who knows. He could get some of them to run errands for him. Give him their things. Tell him useful secrets and information that they shouldn’t be spilling. Maybe one of them will even be willing to die for him. Neat. And this is when Raegyn decided to go all out, and there he established his signature false persona of a friendly, enthusiastic, altruistic, diplomatic, insightful and responsible Kertia heir. He calculated his potential gains, and his conclusion was that the pros outnumbered the cons and this was the way to go. Not only could he impress his parents, but he could also get himself an empire of friends that might become useful to him. Surely this is a better alternative to wandering around aimlessly trying to find his own match. Now he could aim to climb to the top AND find his own match at the same time, sweet! Kiddie Raegyn is tapping into his ambitious side, how wonderful.

(FYI Izar does come up later on but that dude is only interested in math and astronomy, which isn’t enough for Raegyn. And there is an age gap between the two of them: Raegyn is roughly 200-400 years older than the traitor clan kids group so Raegyn was already an adult by the time Izar came into existence. And I say “roughly” because nothing with the ages are set in stone and I’d like it to be flexible so that’s just approximations for context. Anyways)

Yayyyy. Fast forward to Raegyn in the present day as a young adult.

Raegyn’s reputation is perfect. He is perfect. His ambitious childhood goal was to make everyone love him, aaaaand he 100% succeeded. People knew his name, and you could bet that at any given moment, someone in Lukedonia is talking about him, praising him for everything he has done. He’s the big shot. No one would ever guess that behind the glorious, radiating light of his persona hides a cold and apathetic true self. He worked hard to get to where he is today, and he isn’t going to admit to everyone he’s been lying this whole time because that would be throwing his merits away. He has his empire of friends, why would he give up on that? They love him for his false persona, then so be it. He’ll keep it up until he dies.

Part of him legitimately believes that his gains are worth it, and part of him feels like he has gone too far to go back. As much as Raegyn would hate to admit it, he isn’t quite sure who he would be without his false persona. As in, he is afraid to know what will become of him, what will remain of him if he is left alone with his true self. Which is funny because for a person whose hobby is thinking, he doesn’t want to think about that. In a way he is running way from himself, and he knows he feels slightly uncomfortable because fundamentally, that isn’t what he wants. But all these years he couldn’t find his match, nor did Lukedonia have anything else to offer to satisfy someone of his intellectual level. He was losing his patience, but there was nothing he could do. Raegyn never forgot his true self, and he never abandoned it either; he is just suppressing it… to the best of his ability. His vision of a fulfilling life wasn’t realistic, at least from his perspective, so he turned to what he is doing now. He has many, many friends, but no one whom he truly bonds with. He owns many things and people also keep giving him things, yet he has no use for them and isn’t interested in them either. Raegyn started to feel restless. Despite that, he made sure that side of him never showed, to not worry his family, and because he is also too prideful to admit that he’s sick of it too.

That’s when Raegyn discovers a new method of entertainment. He is a nice guy, right? Everyone loves him, that’s a fact. They didn’t know that he had been silently judging them, being nice on the surface and saying mean things about them in his head at the same time. Raegyn needed a new rush of fun. Something fresh to make him feel excited again.

And then… yeah. Raegyn sets his next goal as “seeing how far he can discreetly push people’s buttons without getting into real trouble”. Only a few individuals have his complete respect therefore excluded from his list of “people I can smartass” list… and for the rest of them? They’re all there for his amusement. Even Lord Raskreia.

Oh yeah, her. Remember how I mentioned that Raegyn only believes in authority that is earned? Well, he’s one of the nobles who believe that Raskreia is incompetent. In his eyes she is not qualified to sit on the throne. Too dependent on her feelings, too stubborn, too impulsive… he could go on forever. If it weren’t for the Previous Lord, she wouldn’t even be sitting there on the throne. Raegyn thinks he’s a better candidate for the position of Lord than her. Maybe even the best candidate. Too bad Raegyn isn’t interested in becoming Lord, even if he is curious about the idea of what it is like for him to become Lord. Real life Lord? No thank you. Too many responsibilities, bleh. He wanted to have fun without responsibility, and being Lord would mean having all sources of his entertainment cut off. And his own clan, the Kertia, and Grandia, are pretty cool so… you’re welcome. Meanwhile he can just judge her from the side and keep testing her discreetly to see how smart she is. Which is even funnier because Raegyn should fear Raskreia, as she is his Lord. But just as much as he believes authority should be earned, the fear that comes with authority should also be earned. And Raskreia doesn’t even qualify for that from Raegyn’s perspective. She doesn’t deserve his loyalty. (His cousin Reiner does, which I will explain in a future post where I highlight the cousins’ relationship with one another)

Anyways. Despite Raegyn’s false friendliness and hidden apathy, he does encounter people who genuinely want to connect with him in the midst of him fooling around with his celebrity persona. He is aware that most people love him for the show he puts on, and he’s fine with that. But every now and then there would be someone who wants to know more about him. Someone who doesn’t just want to know Raegyn the great and glorious, but also the mundane Raegyn. The everyday Raegyn. The kind of music he enjoys, what flowers he finds pretty, even the kind of weather he finds the most soothing. The smaller details of his life that people usually don’t associate with him, because he’s known for his great accomplishments. And Raegyn is capable of detecting genuine effort and… this is exactly what makes him uncomfortable. He is confused, surprised, and doesn’t know what to do.

This is where my previous point comes in. Remember when I said Raegyn is struggling in a perpetual cycle of guilt and doubt? Well, this is because Raegyn believes that all relationships are fundamentally transactional. Let it be parent and child, friends, lovers, ruler and subject. People only stuck together for some sort of gain, for their own benefit. It took him a long time to accept his own parents and develop what he would call love for them, and even then, he’d occasionally find himself questioning their relationship. It’s even harder for outsiders, whom he basically categorizes as anyone who is not direct family. The thing is Raegyn is incapable of forming meaningful relationships with anyone. He has a massive following, but no one good friend to share his life with. Not because they didn’t make an effort, but because he kept pushing them away. Raegyn was the one who drove them away when they got too close, even if that meaningful connection was what he yearned for. You can say that Raegyn is projecting himself onto others. Raegyn is almost entirely unable to treat someone genuinely, as he is used to a life full of manipulation and lies where he is the one doing all the manipulating. This is the problem because he’s been doing this for so long, he doesn’t know how to treat someone genuinely. In fact, he can’t really recall when was the last time he treated someone with honesty. By his logic and projection, he believes that those who are trying to take a further step to connect to him are trying to manipulate him, and they’re being dishonest. Do you see where I am getting at. He mistakes all of that for deception from the other side. Karma, reaping what you sow… whatever it is, is coming to kick him in the ass. Now he’s stuck in the loop of pushing people away and complaining about why he just can’t find people to bond with.

If Raegyn could just set aside his need for finding his so-called intellectual rival, he could’ve found a best friend already. Someone who doesn’t necessarily share his capabilities, but truly cares for him. His unrealistic standards and need to maintain his pride is hindering him, yet he can’t quite let it go. Raegyn the glorious is truly pathetic. What a shitshow.

Good news is, eventually he does find a best friend! Like an actual best friend. No bullshitting, no lies. Someone whom he is comfortable enough with to completely drop his act and just be himself, and that person is… Jia! Wait, isn’t she the dumb one? Aren’t they the complete opposites? Yep! They’re healthy best friends, which is nothing less than a miracle. They bring out the best in each other. I’ll be talking about that in a future post!

More on his general personality. Raegyn is a bit snarky and arrogant at times, but people can’t ever get mad at him. He always gets away with being a lil’ shit, because… well, he’s never wrong. No matter how much you want to slap him in the face for something he said, even if you are dead sure that he definitely had no good intentions, when you think about it again… hey, he’s actually right. It makes sense, even if it hurts to hear. He’s totally right. Damn, how did you even get mad at him in the first place? That was dumb, wasn’t it. Now you should slap yourself in the face. You are wrong, because he is right. This is Raegyn, after all. He can present an insult as a compliment. He can turn something totally unfriendly and malicious into a piece of enlightenment, and all of a sudden you actually owe him because he gave you precious insight.

Now you’re curious and decide to stick around to see what other interesting things he has yet to show you. You discover that he’s very friendly and outgoing, and he’s actually considerate and always has solutions to your problems, and makes an effort to make your day. He’s witty, humorous, and a joy to be around, even if he throws a dark joke every now and then, but again you can’t help but let it slide. You start to really appreciate him and don’t even realize this is exactly what he wants to trick you into thinking. One more follower to add to his already super massive following; another shiny chess piece that he has successfully collected for his observation platform of… whatever they truly are to him. He makes it so that you feel like he’s there to entertain you and keep you company, but in reality, it’s the opposite. You’re there to entertain him, for as long as his shallow interest in you remains, which likely won’t last for much longer either. And when he gets bored and very discreetly kicks you out of his life, you’ll feel like it was your fault and now you’re jealous of his other friends and yearn to hang out with him again, even if it means doing whatever it takes to get him back. Raegyn is 100% aware of this, and he definitely enjoys it. He didn’t ask for an encore, yet it came by its own accord. Nice, even more drama for him sip on to ward off some of that boredom before he finds a new source of short-term entertainment.

(BTW just for clarification Raegyn never does anything illegal or anything that can potentially get him in trouble if he gets caught. He’s probably smart enough to get away with it anyway if he really wanted to commit crime for fun but then he doesn’t need to do that. His smartassing, bullshitting, manipulation etc is just on a personal level and never goes beyond that. Even if he’s borderline desperate for entertainment, he won’t do anything that has actual consequences. That’s why he’s not dangerous, he’s just petty and at most a pain in the ass. Can’t throw him in jail or anything, even grounding him would be excessive. He eventually does join Gloria and her search party for Reiner for a certain reason and that’s for another post too)

Just don’t delve any deeper or try to look behind Raegyn’s mask, because you will find something you don’t want to see, and something he doesn’t want to see, and it’s going to be a hot mess.

When he’s not being serious, he is pretty funny. If you can refrain from questioning his personality, he’s actually quite the humor depository. It manifests in the way that when he tries to be funny, it’s like he’s insulting you and when he is actually insulting you, you think he’s just being funny. If you’re in for a short-term, superficial friendship or just need to waste some time, he’s the perfect person to hang out with. He’s not going to be serious anyway, so if you’re interested, meet up and chat away. Just don’t actually develop an attachment to him and you’re good, because it’s no good for either of you. If it’s just for fun and nothing serious, totally go for it. He’ll keep you entertained and (hopefully) you’ll keep him entertained, and if you can handle some occasional arrogance and cheekiness from him, you’ll have a blast, and he’ll make you laugh. Win-win!

(I wanted to get to the details of Raegyn’s crush on Umbra + who he actually eventually settles down with in this post but it was already too long so I’ll do it separately in another post in the future)

And that’s it! Maybe I’ll do another one of these long character posts in a few months. Idk. When I feel like it. Feel free to let me know if there is any particular one you want to see next (did Kaekae last time, Raegyn this time, so 13 out of 15 left) but I will get to all of them eventually. Maybe will take years to complete but I want to get it done lol.

Again, thank you for reading, and stay tuned for future posts!

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #oc #original character #raegyn kertia #millennium au

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inverted-flowers · 6 months

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So... Those Secret Life tarot predictions I've been doing huh? Well it's Grian's turn! Reminder that you don't really need to know anything about Tarot Cards. If you're curious though it's just a simple 5 card spread I made specifically for this. Also I did this on November 2nd of 2023 (it's a Thursday) cuz I'll probably decide to schedule this as to not spam the tags lol.

First Card - Start

So this card was rough because while I was placing it I turned it without thinking about it (which I like never do). I had to debate whether to interpret it upright (how it would've been had I not turned it) or reversed (how it was when flipped it over). As I said in the very first post, I'm doing these as practice so this is also just a 'well wtf do I do in this situation' sort of milestone. In the end I've decided to interpret it as upright with a kind of side note of reversal... if that makes sense... I'm gonna combine the meanings a little bit!

I drew the Ace of Wands... uh... funky style. (Sure that makes sense right? /silly) This card is describing Grian's start of Secret Life as involving a lot of hard work. There could be some minor setbacks but he'll likely work through them fine enough. He'll probably have a great time, honestly, if this card has any truth to it.

Second Card - Individual

This card is describing how Grian does in the game basically. For it I drew the reversed 8 of Swords. He survives through the more difficult first part of starting in a new life series world. So far he's doing very well too so this is supported! If you've seen his episodes you'll know he's not exactly down a whole lot of hearts yet. This card also talks about being open to change and new opportunities. What new opportunities? I'm so glad you asked. To the next card!

Third Card - Social

This card is meant to describe how Secret Life goes for Grian on the social end of this series. I drew the Death card which made me laugh. The death card is about change, rebirth, and transitioning from one phase to another. My brain immediately went to how everyone and their grandma were drawing comparisons between his first ep with Scar on the camel and third life. This makes me think he's either not going to team up with anyone or if he does it'll be someone he hasn't yet and well... So far it's looking like the former! It makes that lil' comparison extra fun cuz this is saying he'll be putting the past expirences behind for something new.

Fourth Card - Big Impact

I drew the reversed Page of Pentacles which is wild cuz I drew that for Joel too but as his season end. Here I drew it for Grian's 4th card which is describing what makes the greatest impact for him this season. This card talks about a lack of progress and getting lost in the details. He might get too caught up in something and forget about his task.

Fifth Card - End

I drew the 3 of Pentacles for how Grian'll end Secret Life. This card talks about collaboration and learning. He's probably very secure in his beliefs... except that those beliefs might be a strict adherence to the rules which could ultimately cause him more problems than necessary. It also means he could take the advice and criticisms of his fellow players pretty well.

So do I think this reading is predicting Grian to win? Not in the slightest. 3 of pentacles really feeling like a participation trophy here lol. Like 'yay you learned things and got to make content with all these lovely people!' Not exactly something screaming he's gonna win. If I had to take a gander as to how it goes down, I'd reckon he gets distracted and fails a hard task or fails his normal tasks multiple times (based on the 4th card). That would then somehow push him to be more strict with rule following (based on the 5th card). If that is what happens, the fail would probably happen either soon and then affect the majority of his season or later when he's low. Maybe it's what turns him red.

#trafficblr #traffic life smp #life series #grian #life series grian #traffic light smp #secret life #life smp #tarot practice #life series predictions #secret life tarot prediction

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monorayjak · 7 months

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I... it's getting hard to live like this. Hiding who I am to so many people. It hurts. I wrote a thing earlier today and I felt I summed up the feeling pretty well I think, reworded a bit to sound better:

"It feels like torturous self harm to be fully aware of who I am and yet imprison myself in a fortress of a false identity that's slowly caving in around me."

What I'm getting at here... I think... I think it might be time for me to come out to some people...and I really need some advice.

As of now, only four people IRL know about me, that's my therapist, my cousin (who was genuinely more like a sister to me), a friend at college (I knew they were extremely supportive and they had no connection to other people I know, so it seemed like a safe bet to tell her (I was right)), a friend I interacted with occasionally in high school who has since come out as trans herself (actually what got me to message her, saw her online and wanted to ask so I didn't misgender her or anything, and we got talking and I quickly realized she'd understand.)

At the moment, I'm still living with my mom, which is fine, I know she'll support me in her own way (she's queer herself, she has internalized issues, but she tries). I know my university I go to, despite having once been a "christian college," have opened up and been supportive of most of the students who do come out in one way or another. I know at least a few of the professors there who are absolutely trying to be supportive to everyone to the best of their abilities. My therapist knows, as mentioned before, but he is also... well, he ain't exactly a pro with gender and sexuality stuff (still a good guy, he just messes up what he's talking about here and there, like using masculine pronouns when he talks about a transwoman (largely I think its because he usually talks about them when they first started transitioning, and I don't think he thinks about gendering them correctly in reference to them coming out... if that makes any sense).

The issues... well, for one, I live in the bible belt. My extended family (who we are finally trying to cut ourselves off from now that the only think holding us together (my grandmother) is gone) lives all around me and the majority of them are.........well lets just say they really don't like my mom being gay, and one of them bullied a kid he was fostering because, in his words, "the kid's a fucking sissy!" Yeah... not a fan of that uncle. (In related news I am genuinely afraid of that man because he is very fucking clearly not mentally stable and has talked about killing himself and others before (while preaching at church!) and he is... really aggressive and has access to guns) I'm too poor to even consider leaving the state, and with... well frankly I'm a bit of a fuckup who really can't live on their own... yeah... fun times. Insurance may cover parts of things, but... honestly I don't even fucking know. Like I said, I know my mom will try to support me, but she is also... well, how do I say this? She tends to not know how to react to stuff. A large reason I don't talk about stuff with her is that she has a habit of turning it around into something about herself (not in a manipulative way, mind you. I just think she doesn't realize why it feels bad to tell her something like this and then have her break down a bit because I didn't tell her sooner or because she didn't work it out herself or anything like that). Basically, if I tell her, its either going to go one of two ways.

She reacts negatively and turns it around about herself and takes the moment to be hurt she didn't work things out or that I didn't tell her. (Literally once opened up to her when I was little (like 11?) about how much I hated myself... she said the next day she spent the entire night crying because she thought she failed... I understand what she was going for, but, honestly not something you should tell your kid who just opened up. Practically had it ingrained internally "If I feel bad, hide it. Because my mom will be devastated by it.")

She goes too supportive and expects me to be willing to open up immediately. Basically just forgetting she can't push me into being out and honest because it takes time to work up the courage.

Both of these options are... iffy. To say the least.

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thepowerisyouth · 2 months

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MONEY / FINANCE STRESS CONTENT WARNING, this next line is unfortunately quite stressful about money so this was an important warning for me to add:

This is also less for the random strangers on the internet who have no reason to trust my advice but more for the 10-15 people I know personally who trust my money advice based on prior experience and Ive sent them my blog link in the last month or two

US stock market is about to tank. On a global perspective its stupidly overpriced because markets like China are hitting 5 year lows (as in we've increased our stock market over 2x since "COVID lows", but their market is even lower than it was then.

Timing is hard but it is entirely possible yesterday was the peak of the market. Might also not tank for 6 months.

Market psychology is fucking weird tho so please absolutely dont 'short' anything, which is basically the same as 'buying puts'. Michael Burry nearly bankrupted all his friends, family, and random investors by insisting on 'shorting' things based on knowledge of impending crisis.

Just sell everything. I mean literally everything. Bond etfs might go up but youd have to have eyes glued to the charts to sell in time. Gold wont do, neither will bitcoin. Their negative correlation to stocks isnt really a thing anymore.

Get every etf, stock, whatever into cash in the brokerage account, then move it out of the banks/brokerage firms and into something physically in front of you because we are, in fact, in another 'historical period of bank runs' its just not quite at the peak yet.

Not trying to increase anxiety beyond nessecary-- its just that any, single bank can immediately freeze your money-- leaving it up to the Federal Government to pay you back-- and it might possibly be the case that youd have to rely on whats called a "bank bail in" to see your savings again.

Not a fun situation to be in, even if it wont happen to most people its just safe practice to do this during a "historical period of bank runs"

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This blog is basically my diary of my thoughts (suprise suprise). But Im an open book, privileged (but poor) little white boy with complex societal/generational abuse and very little home problems so lets fucking go theres a whole mormon cargo van to unpack

Definitely recommend tags Im terrible at them.

---

To those reading this, if you have ever met me in real-life or on the internet than you have taught me varying degrees of information which can be randomly retrieved by my brain at any time depending on current CPU performance. Thoughts of my loving husband have occupied my headspace probably 95% of my time since 14 so he has absolutely taught me at least 100x more than anyone else in the world.

When I say "I", oftentimes Im thinking about "me and my husband", or even sometimes "me and my friends/family", or even sometimes "me and society"--- but I am not always 100% aware of the current headspace environment and/or beliefs of the minds of those around me without feedback

---

There are currently over 8 billion individual varieties of the global human language spoken within the mind. Lets start translating them all. Misunderstood words become mean labels.

I fucking hate mean labels

"Math wiz" = racism and/or classism and/or gender shit. Fuck that shit

When a person is niched off into one part of an 8 billion population human society, it becomes impossible to not "live in a bubble". Bubbles change in size constantly even if not visibly observed. Bubbles can be different sizes depending on your current day-to-day thoughts of your own society. Bubbles must pop. Enlightenment implies life only gets better the more times ya pop and lock it

My path away from purely mathematics, logic, and scientific theory began when I met my husband, and for the first time in my life it became important to me not to be an asshole to everyone around me

Ive been told (only after I started dating my traumatized husband tho and helped him heal a lot) that I'm a natural communicator-- and all my life I found myself listening and learning to everything and everyone around me trying to understand both their and my own motivations-- then I like to garble them up and spit 'em out. My memory recall ability is wonky tho and fluctuates highly with nutrient intake-- I'll get into that later

I wish I could have a million years to read every blog on tumblr. I really do. Connecting & communating is extremely important for understanding one another but it takes time

I had an extremely unique childhood (who hasnt lol), enough so to isolate myself quite a lot through sheer dumb luck. My mom is also everyone's favorite school teacher so of course I was learning a lot from a young age. Luckily I glued myself to the first person who wanted to glue themselves to me equally & we grew exponentially closer to eternity

If its still not clear: my husband and I are bored and love chatting with people, but like most internet loving freaks my mouth don't work sometimes well but my fingies do. My ears got fluff a lot but I got eyes for LEDs like a hawk. Wish they werent LED tho

I also have a naturally short sleep cycle (i.e. extra time for this), and I really wont be offended or weirded out by someone reading through and liking 20+ or whatever of my posts at once randomly. Stories are supposed to be read in chunks, and I think of this blog as a story & also workspace for my thoughts that Id love to see which chapters everyone has read through. Also I love (and only respond positively to) positive feedback, yet also suggestions for ways to improve my "theorums". As in, good faith discussions are totally welcome on any post.

For my 50 year old parents reading my blog so lovingly in their limited evening time-- you can sort by tags to see what topics your familiar with, if you play around with the search function while on my page. Mom. Show dad how to do it

In the very, very bottom of my blog I dont even think I managed to tag shit properly-- but its the roughdraft workings of the philosophy, as well as my own logical framework for answering lifes questions. Its 2 months ago so I might not even be writing according to my own works down there anymore idk I change fast sometimes

Last thing for now here is that I was always criticized by teachers for not showing my work, and for not reviewing my tests before turning in, and I pushed back hard because nearly every time I went over and corrected a mistake-- I saw I most often got it right the first fucking time on a pure hunch. I act on impulse when I'm not meditating mostly for efficiency purposes because I believe I'm correct, but remain open to emotionally positive feedback so I can help remove all doubt.

-------

This might turn into my 'life story' post, as its already going there. Heres what I have so far in the way of my knowledge of my family before I was brought into existence, and my "earliest memories":

Family context:

I dont know jack shit. Nobody talks about it at all.

Here's my own observations Ive made using the framework and perceptive filters I was given--

My whole family is white Texans.

Ancestory is slaveowners of course, further back is a very likely direct parent-child descendent line from the most famous inbred british royalty of the 13th century i.e. King John, whose brother was the arab genociding Richard.

I would call my immediate family as upper poverty class. Its more like poverty with extra privileges cause mental health stigma was the only thing holding them back not other shit too.

As children we had a lot of very privileged opportunities because my parents made a lot of sacrifices to try and bring us back up the class ladder. Lets look into that generational trauma issue

My dads parents (born in the early 40s, dont know the year exactly. I think '43 or '44) were more upper middle class, pretty high income. Owned an insurance business that was very successful by the early 2000s at least. My grandpa is described to me as a "monster" and "violently abusive". I have a single memory of him screaming at me as a young child and I was cowering under a desk, so I really believe it. No other stories at all to provide context.

-- I gotta split this section off I realized I wrote the next thing about post-me context Ill need to move this part lower down later--

My grandpa got early onset dementia, my dad didnt notice in time, and my grandpa bankrupted his successful company and lost several million of dollars to "scammers and sexy ladies."

My dad found out around 2015-16 or so. He told me a little bit after telling me my grandparents were getting divorced. My dad managed to scrape together about $200,000 which is being sued for by the IRS actively.

(He split that money in two, and entrusted me tell him how to invest half in safe value stocks that I handpicked as well as a calculated risk allocation to bonds which we sold for 30% profit the second the market crashed. He gave the other half to a brokerage advisor. I never met the advisor but saw the results. Dont get me started on how the other dude did with that money-- we started this endeavor in January 2020.)

Personally I also dont believe that its possible to spend an entire fortune on scammers and strippers, so Id love to see his books and figure out what the hell went wrong with that asshole. I have a hunch I know something more than anyone else ("Enron", guys, we're talking about an insurance company in HOUSTON, in the 2000s) but I will never be sure without the books.

----

Back to other family--

I do not know a single thing about my grandma on my dads side. She raised me quite a lot, but yeah I literally have only heard her life described to me as "she was a housewife"

On my moms side, my Mimi (also born 1940s but slightly younger so I think 1946 or 1947) came from a divorced, upper middle class family. In 1964-65, She and her step mom both got knocked up the same year so she watched her divorced dad remarry to said step mom when she was 18-19 and getting a shotgun marriage herself, so you can imagine what that was like. The "biological" of the two moms was a very good mom and very queer from what I hear. She died when I was a baby, from lung cancer. Thats all I know. My mimi raised me quite a lot, nearly equally as much as my mom did

My mom's dad, my Papa, came from a rural farming family in East Texas. Dont know much else of anything, but he and his siblings were named "Billy, Bobby, and Betty". As in, they are what everyone likes to call "hicks"

Moving onto my direct parents now. I know a little more about them of course, but since we're getting closer in age to the present-- I think itll be easier to describe my understanding as common stereotypes. If its unclear what I mean definitely feel free to ask, but I'll probably say "I dont really know"

Not much else is relevant other than knowing that my moms family was the mormon one, but that as soon as my dad was love-bombed by the church he joined to. Mormons were also different in the 90s I'm told.

My dad struggled with being one of the "crazy schizos" of the 90s. As in, very traumatized, upset, and gaslit by the government and his parents. Must have done a damn good job dealing with it by the time he was in his late 20s and I popped out cause he was never a "bad dad" to me at all. Definitely yelled and was more angry at times, but less than any other friends parents Ive ever met, and from what I remember he came into my room at night and apologized to me literally every single time within like 5-10 minutes. I know pretty much nothing about him pre-me. He was a tradesman my whole life and specialized in remodeling kitchens & bathrooms (the 'dirty work of construction'). All his initial clientele were the rich people my grandma lived near and was friends with.

My mom would have been extremely queer-presenting and posting on tumblr if born in the year 2000, but was born in early 70s, and was a raegan teen in high-school in Texas during the satanic panic-- she presents completely cis, straight, but has body dysmorphia issues. Thats about you need to know about those issues I'm sure my tumblr folks can assume the rest and be perfectly correct. Cause thats about all I know too and I'm assuming the rest about my own mother

--- Earliest memories

I think a lot of people face doubt about their own earliest memories, maybe hearing the way I connect the images of these events in my head to my emotions I felt will help others do the same.

----

Two disclosers about me & my current healthcare discoveries before moving on

1) My only "major" childhood trauma is loneliness. I have a partner now (started dating early high school, nearing 10 years together now) who was just as lonely and we are glued to each others side constantly, and have made our life work great that way. So don't feel too bad reading this, I'm only able to write it down because Ive healed that trauma and can dig this stuff up with no issues to validate the emotions I felt even as a child

1) I believe I have a genetic trait that is only just getting discovered. There are something like 6 discovered mutations that hold this similar trait so far, and its just basically chronic insomia.

It being a genetic trait tracks with how my mom describes me as never settling into a normal sleep pattern at 6 months old, having absurd amounts of nightmares and death anxiety keeping me up at night as a child, and I still dont sleep at any given time. I average 2 hours less sleep than my husband, who averages 7-8 now that he isnt actively being abused at home.

Going to get sequenced but even if negative I'd probably just be a 7th mutation, as they only found the other 6 genes via case study.

The scientists whove discovered it call it "Familial Natural Short Sleeper", if you desire to look it up. They describe the trait like its the best possible thing in the world. Well... terminally chronic insomia is not the best thing in THIS world thats for sure.

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My "earliest memories"

These arent ranked by time accurately of course. Took enough effort digging through my brain to turn them up, not like Ive got a 2003 calendar stuffed in here as well.

I did do my best to sort by first memory but it also might be sorted by the order at which I recovered the memories as being one of my "earliest" when I was a child and asked such things

1. Pure emptiness. I can only describe it as dissociation. I can remember nothing about the environment around me, except feeling suddenly sucked out of it, seeing only darkness, feeling almost a ringing in my ears and the deepest dread possible. This same feeling followed me in life for a little while, but started to take more visual shape when I was an adolescent, until at some point I would see myself sitting in a chair alone in a room that is infinitely sized but that slowly gets darker the further out you go. I cant remember what exact "real-world" event caused this feeling to ever happen each time it did. I just can remember having it happen occasionally when I was awake and doing things. Definitely dissociation. (If you are willing to believe me further I think its just probably "lights out" and being scared of that)

1. Riding a mattress down the stairs. I kind of remember two images, one is the tunnel vision of going high speed down the stairs and the other would be from looking back up at the stairs when I was done going down. Totally fun, probably my first rollar coaster ride. I might remember my siblings laughing too but it wouldnt be because I can remember the actual laughing-- but I can remember feeling the joy of being in a group of people laughing. At the time, my parents were selling the house so thats why I also remember it being a completely empty carpeted room that we were riding down into

2. My brother smashing his head repeatedly into the refrigerator for 'fun' and someone saying "wow he has a hard head" or something along those lines. I was learning english I cant remember exactly what they said but that was definitely the meaning I took from their words. I think this memory is strong, because I was truly very curious as to why my brother was just running at full speed, head down, and headbutting a hard surface. The words someone said after that must have been one of my first 'answers'

3. Watching my siblings play in rare Houston snow. Not much remembering there actually. Probably just thought it was mezmorizing to watch as I just really remember a picture and feeling peace

4. Will add more later.

#mental health #trauma #early memories #life story #family #generational trauma #wealth disparity #memory #self healing #child psychology #diary #math #classism #privilege #cycle of abuse #behavioral economics #psychology #philosophy

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