#i think that would be enrichment for both of them

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[dunkinbublin]

Hm what about knuckles and amy bonding the besties ever

self care with the BESTIE

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[kabutoden]

bug trolls… i am interested in kankri vantas. if that isn’t too much trouble. your buggy guys are so silly and interesting and i am a fan

here is kankri and his baby brother…. they don’t get along!! i wish they did though id love to see these two go on an adventure together where they look out each other. since kankri is a beforus troll and a vegan, his shell is pretty thin because he’s not getting enough iron. on the other hand, karkat’s shell is heavier then it should be due to stress. thanks for the RQ!! im soooo glad ppl like my sillies :D

[hyperfixationtimego]

sometimes I end up shipping things just to be contrarian. like not on purpose or anything I just get insulted when people say shit like “these two unrelated characters, who are roughly the same age but have wildly conflicting perspectives on the world, would never work in a relationship.” like okay. you are joyless and unimaginative btw. i’m picturing them in my head rn and it’s the greatest drama of our generation. they’re kissing with tongue. jsyk.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the problem of being into doctor who now is that i keep seeing text posts about jack and i have to mentally spin myself around because my first thought is my little spn guy.

[hidden-havven]

Secretly hoping that the Twitter teaser image isn't about new members at all but about our current cubitos leaving everything behind and showing up on a completely diferent place with little to no explanation. like they appear on a deserted lowkey post apocaliptic-vibe wasteland with barely any resources inmediately available. separated on small groups of people with diferent languages thousands of blocks away from eachother. perhaps near each group a new member joins them as they build a settlement, or investigate abandoned structures in search of clues, or just explore as much as they can hoping to find their lost friends.

maybe wilbur and luzu return to an empty home with no signs of life beside one another. no cubitos, or eggs, or even mobs left in the quesadilla island they knew before embarking on the same aventure. Perchance the real Quackity escapes the grasp of the feds at the same time and joins them, or he appears on the new place with the rest but his nametag is indistinguishable from ElQuackity, who is on a different group and no one can tell which one is the fed spy

I just want them to get isekaid

[tigergendermoved]

Get fucking chomped idiot

[teamfortresstwo]

No thoughts head empty only tgirl!Vox x Niffty ,,,,,

[405blazeitt]

the ranboo/slimecicle/sneegsnag wolfquest vod is reminding me that not everyone knows basic wolf ecology and behavior like

they've got 3 wolves and they decided to attack some bison

(all 3 wolves were killed multiple times)

[kaleschmidt]

Putting Chazz in ace attorney so it can emerge from law school. Nothing bad will happen

[dutybcrne]

v; i keep my ideals alive ( .bnha verse; kaeya. )

         Kaeya was born in the nation of Khaenri'ah, an island off the coast of Sumeru, possessing an Ice Quirk he inherited from his mother’s family. With Khaenri’ah being a nation without official Pro-heroes, the law enforcement was mostly taken care of by volunteers, Quirkless and Quirked, known as the Black Serpents. The crime rate was minimal if at all and all was peaceful, until a group of people amid those who helped govern the nation became seduced by AFO's promises of power in the world he would rule. This group would become the Abyss Order and their dealings with AFO through the years as well as their actions in his name after he was arrested by All Might would eventually bring the attention of the Teyvat Union as a whole and thus the Seven would be dispatched to dispose of them. Due to miscommunication, the Seven would end up combating the Black Serpents and allow the Abyss Order more time to complete their devices, but in the end, the ensuing battle would destroy them anyway, along with horrifically devastating the nation in the process as each of the highly volatile energy cores ruptured.

         Kaeya and his father were lucky enough to flee before the worst of the calamity occurred, and journeyed across the nations of the Teyvat Union, ultimately coming to rest in Mondstadt, far from their home. Because his father had been a prominent leading member in Khaenri’ah, the man decided that Kaeya was to be left on his own in Mond, to grant him the opportunity at a better life in being taken in by one of the families there. The man’s parting words to his on were a plea to never let himself forget his identity as Khaenri’ahn and where he came from, though Kaeya would come to misinterpret and tie it to the Abyss Order, considering many of the leadership–and many of Kaeya’s other family members–happened to be aligned to the Abyss Order’s dealings, as well as rumors circulating the nation he ended up internalizing. 

          Was he meant to be their spy? Here, in his new home? Was that his true purpose? This would remain a constant thought looming in Kaeya’s mind, even living an otherwise idyllic life in Mondstadt.

         Being taken in by the Ragnvindrs and raised alongside the prominent, promising young lad who aspired to be the nation’s top hero, Kaeya let himself be molded into the boy’s support. He would take every lesson and training seriously, enough to catch up and be admitted to the same academy as Diluc. To take each rigorous class right alongside him and excel, using his Ice Quirk to ensure the boy’s fire never burned out or too far. Always being Diluc’s second, his right hand, the other half to the dynamic team they would form and aspire to maintain into their official careers. And Kaeya so desperately wanted that future. So desperately wanted to keep this home and life he had made here.

          But how could he rest easy, with the ever-lurking shadow of his supposed purpose warring with his growing attachment for the people and nation he came to love? The answer came sooner than later, as his inner turmoil ultimately came to a head at Crepus’s death due to a deadly support device manufactured by the Fatui organization. Betrayed that even the ever-righteous man he looked up and begun to consider like a father to would have stooped so low and be swayed by such sinister powers, Kaeya would admit his family ties to the Abyss Order to Diluc. To force him to make the choice for him, staying in Mondstadt or going home and rejoin his family, ideally cutting the strongest attachment he had at the very least, as he himself would never have the will nor strength to do so personally. 

         The rest is history.

         Kaeya’s purpose within the Favonian Hero Organization does involve to typical PR and heroism, but he also took it upon himself to have an additional purpose–to be the sort of hero unafraid of dirtying and bloodying their hands in the name of the people’s safety. All behind the Organization’s back ( though some do suspect what he gets up to ), and well-hidden from the eyes of the media, of course.

         Due to his Khaenri’ahn upbringing and hearing his father’s say through his most impressionable years, he’d long since held ill regard for heroes and the Commissions running them, only indulging Diluc’s admiration for them without mockery nor disdain out of attachment to the boy. Their rules and regulations were always far too restricting, much too inefficient to do their beloved nation any good. Always letting villains slip through the cracks in their defenses and hurt people many heroes wouldn’t even care to give a second glance. Now that Kaeya was freer of and his purpose wrenched asunder by his confrontation with Diluc, he would give himself the indispensable role of personally seeing to getting rid of villains, vigilantes, and even those of the Favonian Commission he noted were corrupt. Anyone deemed a threat to Mondstadt’s safety would fall at his hand, dealt with swiftly and quietly, with no loose ends to spare. He cares not what he has to do to ensure Mond’s safety, never worried of what consequences he would face if caught. Not that he ever worried he would be, but that is a bridge he’ll cross when he comes to it. Never one to give anything but his all, he fully intends to protect the place he’s called home.

          Even if certain fears still linger in mind. Still, he can hope his dedication would be enough to tide him through them all. It’s always been one of his strongest, most defining traits, after all.

[alienzil]

Okay so I saw this post and you know the types of fics where adult Danny moves to Gotham and winds up emotionally adopting one or more of bat kids or accidentally coparenting with Bruce (with or without a relationship between them)? I had the thought, what if Danny parented the bat kids but he started doing it out of spite?

Like, Danny moves to Gotham and runs into Batman and Robin one night while out for a late night flight and drops down to the rooftop to say hi.

Bruce sees this 5'6" twink that looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and is so obviously new in town and thinks Gotham is going to eat him alive, he needs to leave before he gets killed.

Batman: Looming menacingly and in his deepest scariest Batman voice, "Leave. Metas aren't allowed in Gotham."

Danny: Offend! Excuse?! Who does this guy think he is?! 😡 Danny was trying to be polite here! "First of all, I'm not a meta. Second of all, rude much?!"

Batman: Does scariest bat glare. "Leave." Swoops off into the night.

Robin (Damian): "My father is correct. You should leave the city for your own safety."

Danny sees this tiny vigilante child with fierce expression and a sword and is just like awww, so cute! 😍 Then he noticed Robin had a small cut on his arm and his inner gremlin activates. If the rude flying furry can't take care of his own kid properly, Danny will do it better!

He bandages up Damian's arm, gives him a cookie and teaches him a neat sword trick before sending him on his way with a hug telling him he needs his sleep.

Danny goes out of his way to run into the bat kids and be the absolute best dad.

He takes Nightwing flying and throws him in the air so Nightwing can do all the fanciest acrobatic tricks.

He tracks down Red Hood and starts a book club with him (Danny may or may not have used his connection with Ghost Writer to get ahold of some rare books).

He eats waffles with Spoiler and trys out weird topping combinations that make them both make faces and laugh.

He makes new gadgets for Red Robin but carefully breaks them just a little bit and takes them to the teen so they can fix them together (it's enrichment!). He always insists RR keep them as a reward.

He follows Signal around during the day invisibly, making faces and doing tricks only Signal can see (he made him laugh in front of the police at a crime scene twice!).

All of the kids get his attention and love and Danny smugly thinks how Batman must be absolutely seething about his kids bonding with Danny and Batman missing out on all of it.

Danny started it out of spite but he does wind up genuinely loving the bat kids.

Batman definetly hates it when the kids are bonding with Danny and is extremely jealous (sulky Batman brooding in his cave about it).

Bruce's repeated attempts to intimidate Danny into leaving Gotham don't work and him telling his kids to stay away from Danny had zero effect (the terrible children don't listen to him at all).

So Bruce starts spending more time with the kids to compete against Danny. The bat kids love it and (little gremlins that they are) use the two of them against each other constantly.

Bruce:"Sorry Tim, I can't make it to your photography exhibit this weekend, there's a meeting with the Justice League."

Tim:"Oh that's fine... I'll just ask Danny to come." 😏

Bruce: Narrows his eyes and grits his teeth, "Actually, the Justice League needs to have contingencies in place to manage without my input. This would be a good time to test their capabilities. I'll skip the meeting and come to your exhibit."

With both of them competing to spend more time with the kids it leads to the two of them spending time with each other to be around the kids more.

After Damian catches a terrible flu bug, Danny spends an entire weekend at the manor babying him. This is when Bruce finds out Danny has known their secret identities for months and tries to get mad about it but Alfred puts his foot down, raises a judgmental eyebrow in Bruce's direction that puts a stop to that nonsense and sets up Danny with his own room in the family wing.

Eventually, Danny gets to the point where he spends most of his nights at the manor and he and Bruce consult each other on all major household decisions.

The whole family is at the manor one morning including Danny. Bruce has a meeting at WE and he and Danny are absently discussing their plans for the day at the breakfast table.

Bruce: " The meeting should take most of the morning and then I have paperwork this afternoon and a scheduled walk through on one of the new engineering projects. I probably won't be done by the time school let's out. Can you pick up Damian today?"

Danny: "That shouldn't be a problem. Would you mind swinging by the bookstore on the way home and getting my preorder? Jay and I just finished rereading the first book and we were wanting to start the second tonight before you all go on patrol. I'd rather not try to make it to the bookstore in school rush hour traffic"

Bruce: "Sure."

Stephanie watches Danny reach out and absently straighten Bruce's tie as they both get up to leave. Bruce grabs Danny's coffee thermos and hands it to him while they walk out the door.

Stephanie: "Sooo, bets on how long until they realize they're basically married?"

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[astro-enthusiast]

I have been resurrected…this time from a new account because in true plutonian fashion I feel the need to combust and start anew far too often.

DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES PLAGIARIZE MY WORK.

thank you for reading you angel of a person! enjoyyy🤍

🖤 The classic Scorpio stereotype of being dark, brooding, and cryptic doesn’t belong to Scorpio suns. It belongs to the risings, moons, and mars. Every Scorpio sun I know is the bubbliest mf to walk the planet.

🤍 It’s well known that personal planets in Virgo can make for a perfectionist, but I’ve also noticed this pattern with Virgo degrees in a chart. Degrees tell a large part of your story as well!

🖤 I’ve said it before and I WILL say it again: I’ve never met an Aries, Gemini, Scorpio, or Sagittarius sun that wasn’t popular, or at the very least: amazing at holding convos with all kinds of people. If you aren’t popular, congrats, you’re a unicorn.

🤍 Piggybacking off of the above observation, these signs aren’t necessarily prone to being buddy-buddy with everyone. But I have noticed they can hold a conversation and have a wide variety of acquaintances at the very least.

🖤 Taurus and Libra suns will never be caught slacking. Their self-esteem and quality of life is tied to their need of a harmonious environment and looking cute 24/7. Also never met a Taurus or Libra sun that wasn’t adored for their beauty.

🤍 Sagittarius placements are both super energetic and super cuddly at the same time. Like they can do both so effortlessly. I see why everyone loves them lol.

🖤 Saturnian moons (Aqua and Cap) go sooo well together. I will forever obsess over this pairing. Aquarius’ analytical nature and expansive thinking combined with Capricorn’s stable nature and diligent care creates such a sweet and enriching element.

🤍 In my humble opinion, Saturnian moons don’t get enough credit for their depth. I’m biased, but having known these signs on a personal level, their depth is beyond what people speak on. Of course, not just anyone is getting in their thoughts though. These signs open up over time. Hence, the Saturnian influence. Being intentional in the sharing of emotions does not equal being emotionally stunted. With that being said, Saturnian moons can most certainly suppress their emotions better than the average person.

🖤 You would think a Sagittarius mars would make for an adventurous person who probably loves nature, but every sag mars I know is deathly afraid of the things that live in nature: i.e. bugs. They will scream their heads off if a bug even looks at them.

🤍 Gemini moons learned how to gossip and keep tabs on people from their mother. They also have great conversational skills that they learned from her. Their mother was likely popular and social. Same goes for Libra moons.

THANK YOU FOR READING. 🫶🏽✨

RIGHTS RESERVED TO MY BLOG astro-enthusiast . DO NOT COPY, REWRITE, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK. DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.