#we are robin 3.0

[mostsanescarletspiderfan]

WE ARE ROBIN 3.0

30 years into the batman's carrier the We Are Robin movement has decreased since its original formation six years ago, nonetheless, the youths of Gotham still come out to protect its nest.

This iteration of the team consists of three previous members who have stayed to mentor and give support to the five new recruits.

Shug-R mostly just does the hacking and planning but if needed she also acts as a field medic, since she joined the oracles her job became way easier.

Daxton Chill aka Alt is the mechanic/tech support for the team but unfortunately that makes him the least active member on the team during missions.

Isabella Ortiz aka redbird co-leaders with Shug-R, she is romantically involved with the leader of the Gotham Knights.

Nathan and Michael Hook have been both a pain in the ass and a blessing to Orpheus and Onyx for their incredible inventions, that intrigued Dax and he decided to give them a chance and, well, when four superheroes give you a thumbs up you can't say no.

Dexter Dent is the son of ex-supervillain Harvey Dent and [REDACTED], his father is VERY agonist of him being a vigilante even tho the hypocrite himself is one now, on an unrelated note the penguin seems quite fond of the lad.

Tiffany Fox has been surrounded by heroes all her life with you would think it meant she would have an easier time getting into the hero game but noooo it couldn't be so easy... Her Brother's solution was to put her with these kids as a compromise.

Aurora or as she likes to be called, hoopoe, hopes to one day become a great hero just like Bryne is.

Like any self-respecting superhero team they have their own headquarters called the nest, this one given to them as a first outing gift by Tim Drake who owned it first. Their range extends from the Hill all the way up to Robbinsville, when they patrol it's not unusual to team up with the night shift and the Gotham knights but they also find themselves paired with fennec fox of all people most of the time.

NOTE: for those who don't know who Nathan, Michael and Aurora are the first 2 appear in batman: black & white vol 2 #6 and DC power 2024 while Aurora is from batman: the brave and the bold 2023 #6-7-8, also the DCPU tag is to navigate my dc universe and We Are Robin 2.0-4.0 are placed in different points in the timeline so I don't wanna use them yet.

[rainswept]

back up at 30 pulls which is enough for me to get robin. already knew i was guaranteed her but alas. i feel a bit less anxious now that my jades are back in the thousands 🤞

[starcurtain]

What in the World is Going on With Mydei's Backstory?

One thing I noticed while playing through the story is that there appears to be something very strange going on with Mydei's backstory. Namely: It's almost like he's got two different backstories going on at once.

And I wonder if that's on accident... or on purpose. On the one hand, Amphoreus's plot has my brain spinning wild conspiracy theories about time loops and multiple lives and even the whole world possibly being some sort of simulation, which would make "two simultaneous timelines" make perfect sense.

(On the other hand... Hoyo doesn't have the best track record for character timelines. Remember how Sunday and Robin's mother was killed when the stellaron fell on Penacony... the same stellaron that fell before the Astral Express crash landed... centuries ago... 😂)

But anyway, here's what I mean:

In 3.0, Mydei makes statements that suggest he lived in Castrum Kremnos:

Phainon also says that Mydei is "homesick" for Kremnos, implying this was his home at some point.

The Chryseus Leo in Castrum Kremnos recognizes him by the sound of his voice, and Mydei responds as if reuniting with a well-loved mentor:

This suggests Mydei spent long enough in Kremnos to be affectionate with Chryseus Leo (he even calls him just "Leo" like a nickname) and have learned from him as a teacher.

In 3.1, Mydei speaks about the Kremnoan royal library as if he has personal knowledge of what scrolls/slates are available there. He also calls it "my library" with a possessive but especially fond feeling, as if he's spent a decent amount of time there and loves it.

And, during Trailblazer and Castorice's visit to past Castrum Kremnos, which supposedly takes place before Eurypon's fall, an NPC on the street curses Mydei as a traitor and claims that all the Kremnoans who went with him to Okhema are "deserters."

Castorice and the Trailblazer even have a discussion about whether Mydei's choice to leave Castrum Kremnos was brave or cowardly. This indicates that Mydei's whereabouts were well-known to the people of Castrum Kremnos before the city met its downfall.

However... there's a big problem with all this: None of this actually make sense with the backstory Mydei himself states in 3.1.

According to the flashback we experience in 3.1, Mydei was thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant.

This correlates with what we know from his leaked voicelines (skip the image below if you want to avoid the leak!)

His earliest memory is in the Sea of Souls. He himself states he has no memory of living in Kremnos before his father threw him into the sea. He lived nine years in the Sea of Souls before returning to land.

Then, he states that he met his five friends directly after returning from the Sea of Souls:

And he states that they lived together "in exile" for ten years.

But... uh... who exiled them?

It literally can't have been Eurypon, given that Eurypon doesn't recognize Mydei at all and explicitly had no idea Mydei was still alive the whole time:

A few lines later, Mydei also states:

"When we left Kremnos."

So Mydei... went back to Kremnos after leaving the Sea of Souls and meeting his friends...? And he lived in the inner city and had access to the royal library, apparently, but nobody loyal to the king ever noticed him? And then he was somehow exiled after that? For... some other crime entirely (since it wouldn't be for being the missing crown prince, given Eurypon didn't know he was back)? Or just decided to self-exile at some point, despite living presumably relatively peacefully in his home nation?

When could this even have fit in the timeline?

We're told that by "the fifth year" of Mydei returning from the Sea of Souls (Mydei would have been 14 years old) three of his five friends were already dead, and he'd already waged war with at least two different countries (Ladon and Aidonia).

We're never remotely given an indication here that there is room in the timeline for Mydei to have returned to Kremnos and just lived there as an undercover citizen. He instead specifically states that he and his friends lived in the wilds of Amphoreus, roaming the land for ten years.

He even notes that all of his friends died before he ever had a chance to bring the detachment to join up with Okhema:

There's also the entire aspect of Mydei's situation being paralleled to the children he meets in Okhema. When he asks them "How can you consider Kremnos your home when you never lived there?" we, as the players, are supposed to recognize that Mydei feels this way too: Castrum Kremnos was not his home--because theoretically the timeline is telling us he never actually lived here.

This is reinforced by the "As I've Written" chapter, where Okhema is once again posited as Mydei's only home:

So... Something is really not adding up here, especially if you think to the NPC in past Castrum Kremnos who describes Mydei word-for-word as both the "crown prince" and a "Chrysos Heir" who has already deserted for Okhema with his army before Eurypon's death.

In the Kremnos ruins, there's this memory fragment where Krateros confirms that Mydei and the detachment are already working with Okhema before Eurypon's death:

Except that this definitely conflicts with the timeline Mydei gives for his own joining up with Okhema. He says all of his friends died before the detachment went to Okhema, and explicitly that Hephaestion died after Eurypon:

So this is Schroedinger's detachment, both allied to Okhema and not at the same time. 😂

We also know that Mydei didn't live in Kremnos after killing his father, since he explicitly states:

Why would the people need to be led back into Kremnos... if they hadn't left yet...

Furthermore, some of Hepaestion's dialogue also makes it sound like Mydei already had the Kremnoan people with him at this time, and that the migrant Kremnoans were already waiting for Mydei to lead them back to Kremnos:

Theoretically, Mydei could have been traveling around Amphoreus just picking up random Kremnoan exiles and formed the detachment out of those random Kremnoans he picked up... maybe? I guess? Since it definitely doesn't make sense that he absconded from Castrum Kremnos with a whole army and his dad never even noticed!

And the icing on the cake even. During his confrontation with Eurypon, Mydei says:

He knew about Nikador's soul being split?! He knew about what had been done to make Nikador immortal way back then? And then he just... FORGOT before 3.0?! Whattttt is even happening herreeee?

The only way even part of this works as a single timeline is if the events are:

Mydei is thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant.

Mydei lives 9 years as a feral siren child in the Sea of Souls.

Mydei finally returns to land, meets his five friends.

Mydei, despite knowing his father is out to kill him, sneaks back into Castrum Kremnos and somehow manages to find a place to live as an undercover citizen (under a fake name too, presumably?!) in the inner city even though he would theoretically be perceived as a penniless, nameless orphan at this point. Maybe he couch surfs at his five bros' houses, I don't know lol.

In some relatively short period of time (less than five years for sure), he manages to build an entire detachment army under his father's nose with no one giving away his identity to anyone loyal to the king (despite the fact that we see many Kremnoan citizens still loyal to Eurypon all the way to the end), then he exiles himself and his entire army from Kremnos, still without the king even noticing?

Mydei and his army pillage randomly for ten years, then Mydei returns and kills his father.

He leads the Kremnoan detachment to Okhema to join Aglaea's cause.

However, this still can't resolve the continuity error of the random people of Castrum Kremnos knowing he's 1) alive, 2) the crown prince, and 3) assisting Okhema all before Eurypon, the literal king, even learned Mydei was still alive, plus knowing about the plot to break Nikador's soul up and then somehow just flat out forgetting that lol.

Even Castrum Kremnos's timeline itself is confusing

There's also the weird stuff going on with Castrum Kremnos's timeline.

We know that Castrum Kremnos's last Kremnos Festival took place at the end of the Chrysos War. In 3.0, Phainon talks about this war and the tales of the Chrysos heirs involved with it as if it is something that took place long enough ago to have become the stuff of legends:

When being exposed to the present Kremnos, Gnaeus implies that a significant amount of time must have passed between Eurypon's death and the Trailblazer and Castorice's mission:

And Gnaeus also confirms that supposedly thousands of years have passed between Castrum Kremnos's last Kremnos Festival and the present:

Mydei implies that the people of Castrum Kremnos have been away from their homeland long enough for their traditions to have faded:

Aelius, who is a grown-ish looking NPC from the "Love in the Time of Black Tide" questline, notes that when he came with Mydei to Okhema, he was just a child:

All of this suggested that Castrum Kremnos's downfall actually happened years and years ago, some of it suggesting possibly decades or even centuries of lying in ruin.

The fact that an NPC aged to adulthood or near to it while Mydei didn't change at all definitely had people convinced in 3.0 that Mydei was literally "immortal" in that he did not age, suggesting he could be centuries old.

However, that... also doesn't make sense.

We have Damionis who managed to take a picture at the last Kremnos Festival, suggesting it wasn't very many years ago, given that he's clearly not an older NPC:

And Krateros, who clearly does age, is shown as an already grown man in the flashbacks with Eurypon and Gorgo.

To complicate matters even further, we have two Gorgos--one in the past and one who was Mydei's mother, but both of whom achieved the same feat. The devs even deliberately obfuscate on the original Gorgo's identity through the readables to further link the Gorgo of the past with the Gorgo of the present by refusing to state the gender of the Gorgo of the past:

It's not on accident. They want players to conflate the two Gorgos.

Andddd another edit, because I keep finding things that don't add up. When Phainon and the Trailblazer go to Kremnos to fight Flame Reaver, they run into a bunch of Kremnoans fighting the black tide. Phainon speculates that Aglaea must have rallied them, except...

That guy definitely has no idea why Aglaea would be giving him any commands, and, more than that--he doesn't even know who Phainon is. Could there really be any of the Kremnoan detachment that don't at least know of Okhema's Chrysos Heirs? And why would he imply that their "king will deal with you" if Mydei is aligned with Okhema?

I don't think these Kremnoans came from the time period we think they did...

How can we reconcile this?

We could just handwave this and say "Classic Hoyo, not great with keeping track of their own writing." We have evidence they've made mistakes (and retcons) before.

But with timelines being so central to Amphoreus's plot... I'm suspicious, enough so to suggest that there may be enough conflicting information here that this could be on purpose.

In fact, if you separate out the events that don't make sense together, it almost appears as if there could be two completely different timelines, or as if events from two different timelines have become stitched together, trying to create one coherent story and yet, like mismatched puzzle pieces, not quite adding up.

In one timeline, the one that seems most prevalent, Mydei (who ages normally) was tossed into the Sea of Souls as an infant despite his mother's protests, lived (and died) in the sea nine years, then was discovered by a band of five Kremnoan exiles who became his friends, wandered with them for ten years, and eventually returned to Castrum Kremnos to kill his father at around 19 years old. From there, he led any Kremnoans who were willing to follow him to Okhema as refugees and as a detachment army, and they've served in Okhema for no more than a few years--enough that Aglaea still calls him a youth and Mydei hasn't noticeably aged since he killed his father, and enough that Damionis, who visited Castrum Kremnos during the last festival, is still a young man.

In the other timeline, we have a much more ancient Castrum Kremnos, one which had already fallen into ruin long enough ago for its final king to turn to dust and the Chrysos War to become the stuff of legends, according to Phainon. In this timeline, a version of Mydeimos who was much more familiar with the city, one who apparently had access to the royal library and lived in the inner city of Castrum Kremnos (which Phainon says matches him having the status of a prince), suddenly decides to betray his country, possibly due to seeing his father decline into madness. He becomes a "traitor of a crown prince" according to the regular Kremnoans, but manages to assemble an army of his own loyal followers, which becomes the Kremnoan detachment that lays waste to enemy countries for years. At some point, he is recognized as a Chrysos Heir during the Chrysos War era and allies himself with Okhema, and then only after that returns to kill his father.

And the biggest hint we have to support this "alternate timelines" theory?

The game itself.

When Mydei returns to Castrum Kremnos, we actually see two different scenarios weaving together--the "truth" as we know it, with a destroyed Castrum Kremnos, and the other where the nation is whole and happy.

The assumption the game leaves players with on the surface is that Mydei is simply imagining things, envisioning a "dream" scenario where he reunites with his lost friends and gets to live in a flourishing Castrum Kremnos with his people.

However... I feel the need to point out that every time the scene cuts between the "dream" and "reality"... We actually hear the exact same sound effect that plays whenever you activate Oronyx's miracles to travel between timelines.

For comparison, Mydei's "dream":

And Oronyx's miracles sound effect:

In fact, the visual effect of swapping timelines (darkening on the edges of the screen, a flash of blue geometric shapes) is actually also perfectly identical, and you can even hear Oronyx's voice as Mydei shifts between "reality" and his supposed "dream."

If it were just the repeated sound effect, it might be easy to say it's just Hoyo reusing resources. But... why play Oronyx's animation and voice over the scene if this isn't a time shift?

Unless... all the confusion is on purpose.

Is it possible that what we're seeing unfold in Amphoreus isn't the truth? That the stories we're hearing and seeing might not be whole stories and are instead just scattered pieces? Different timelines stitched together, like someone telling stories about the past but misremembering the details? With memories overlapping, or overwriting each other, or being altered by timelines or time loops collapsing in on themselves? (Something similar happens with Tribios's story, by the way--Tribbie insists that in the ancient timeline, Tribios was completely alone and that we as time travelers with Oronyx's power are in fact only witnessing a memory, and yet Phainon notes several times that it's not possible for Tribios to have made it through without outside assistance, suggesting the two timelines are in fact overlapping, and what Tribbie remembers in her memory isn't actually accurate.)

Is it possible that the events of Mydei's backstory don't quite add up because they're not supposed to?

Is Mydei really imagining things as he returns to Kremnos... or are we actually seeing entirely different timelines or lives "resonate" with each other, collapsing into each other to create a single jumbled story that not even Mydei realizes isn't true?

Or... Maybe Hoyo just goofed again. I guess we'll just have to wait and see! 😂

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"THE FIRST DATE"

EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?

YOU: boring.

YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???

EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart. 

YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME 

God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment. 

You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week. 

EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.

YOU: i NEVER said that.

EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines. 

Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other. 

Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal. 

YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past. 

EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past! 

YOU: you most certainly have NOT

EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.

And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile. 

YOU: i hate you 

EDDIE: No, you don’t

YOU: i do. i really do. 

EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer. 

“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?” 

“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms. 

You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead. 

“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in. 

“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.” 

Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.” 

“I am not cranky-”

“You are!” 

“Am not!” 

“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place. 

Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.

“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.

“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back. 

“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.” 

You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider. 

Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream. 

“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence. 

“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?” 

Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?” 

Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.

“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.” 

It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other. 

“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week. 

Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues. 

“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.” 

“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”

Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line. 

Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously. 

“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”

He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends. 

“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?” 

“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.

You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?” 

Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.

But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications. 

EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius. 

EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night? 

—

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.

And you did. To some extent, you really did.

But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.

Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.

Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?

Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.

YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?

EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)

YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.

Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.

EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.

That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest. 

You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now. 

There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.

You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.

He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. 

You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.

This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come. 

“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING. 

Oh.

Oh.

If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him. 

Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable? 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.

Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen. 

The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you. 

He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.

You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” 

You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.

You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.

“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

“I could say the same about you.” 

You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.” 

“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“

He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”

“Every time?” 

“It’s for safety.” 

“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?” 

“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.” 

You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.” 

He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of. 

You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized. 

“We can go helmet shopping another day.” 

We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.

“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you. 

Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that. 

You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy. 

Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street. 

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again. 

“Bowling?�� you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?” 

He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.” 

“You say that to every girl you bring here?” 

You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.  

“Only the prettiest ones.” 

You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.

But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week. 

He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you. 

But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him. 

 The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you. 

“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy. 

You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his. 

“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver. 

It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.

The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race. 

You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.

“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” 

No, I can’t. Your fault, really.

“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands. 

His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch. 

“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.

A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide. 

And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away. 

“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.” 

You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.” 

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him. 

The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.

He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.

“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.

Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me? 

The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.” 

“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?” 

The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows. 

“Does it really matter?” 

You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.

You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking. 

“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him. 

I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on. 

His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse. 

Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light. 

“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.

“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”

“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.” 

He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away. 

He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.” 

—

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?” 

Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?” 

“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.” 

“Like you have been?” 

“Burn in Hell.” 

Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill. 

Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish. 

At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen. 

“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of. 

Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.” 

More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends? 

Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends? 

The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter 

No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that. 

Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again. 

“Th-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.” 

His knuckles dig further into his mouth.

“I meant to do that.” 

His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.

“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.” 

He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist. 

You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly. 

Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.” 

“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce. 

“I did.”

“I believe you.” 

“I-”

It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much. 

Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much. 

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice. 

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.” 

Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play. 

You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead. 

He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song. 

It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember. 

It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot. 

“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.

“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you. 

“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?” 

“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.” 

Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?” 

“Maybe.” 

The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer. 

You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him. 

Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.

Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly. 

All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care. 

When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him. 

You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up. 

But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter. 

“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.” 

He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter. 

This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others. 

The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet. 

Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply. 

You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were. 

His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer. 

“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.” 

“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.” 

“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.” 

There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time. 

Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile. 

With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind. 

All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing. 

It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect. 

“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.” 

“I have an answer.” 

“You sound very sure there, big guy.” 

“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?” 

Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.

Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though. 

“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”

“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness. 

“Yeah. Dating.” 

The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye. 

“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”

“But we’re dating.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating. 

He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him. 

Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it. 

“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.” 

His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.” 

Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed. 

“Get used to it, Munson.”

“I plan to, Sweetheart.”

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[violent138]

Something maybe only I and like three Gotham Rogues will be thinking about is that Batman gets a kid, you eagerly await to hear his Bat-themed name (you know after the Batmobile, Batarang, Batsignal you think this one's Batson/Batchild/Pup if you wanna get scientific) and the name's Robin. Okay whatever, we got a bit of a rebel going against the whole Batmotif or whatever, and then comes Batgirl (back on track). Then the next one is Robin again, Robin 3.0, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin (though this one definitely could've run with a Bat-themed name based on the outfit), Spoiler, Robin Orphan Black Bat Batgirl (most of which make sense), and then Signal.

Conclusion: kids really didn't take after Batdad much.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Writing Advice #?: Don’t write out accents.

The Surface-Level Problem: It’s distracting at best, illegible at worst. 

The following passage from Sons and Lovers has never made a whit of sense to me:

“I ham, Walter, my lad,’ ’e says; ‘ta’e which on ’em ter’s a mind.’ An’ so I took one, an’ thanked ’im. I didn’t like ter shake it afore ’is eyes, but ’e says, ‘Tha’d better ma’e sure it’s a good un. An’ so, yer see, I knowed it was.’”

There’s almost certainly a point to that dialogue — plot, character, theme — but I could not figure out what the words were meant to be, and gave up on the book.  At a lesser extreme, most of Quincey’s lines from Dracula (“I know I ain’t good enough to regulate the fixin’s of your little shoes”) cause American readers to sputter into laughter, which isn’t ideal for a character who is supposed to be sweet and tragic.  Accents-written-out draw attention to mechanical qualities of the text.

Solution #1: Use indicators outside of the quote marks to describe how a character talks.  An Atlanta accent can be “drawling” and a London one “clipped”; a Princeton one can sound “stiff” and a Newark one “relaxed.”  Do they exaggerate their vowels more (North America) or their consonants more (U.K., north Africa)?  Do they sound happy, melodious, frustrated?

The Deeper Problem: It’s ignorant at best, and classist/racist/xenophobic at worst.

You pretty much never see authors writing out their own accents — to the person who has the accent, the words just sound like words.  It’s only when the accent is somehow “other” to the author that it gets written out.

And the accents that we consider “other” and “wrong” (even if no one ever uses those words, the decision to deliberately misspell words still conveys it) are pretty much never the ones from wealthy and educated parts of the country.  Instead, the accents with misspelled words and awkward inflection are those from other countries, from other social classes, from other ethnicities.  If your Maine characters speak normally and your Florida characters have grammatical errors, then you have conveyed what you consider to be correct and normal speech.  We know what J.K. Rowling thinks of French-accented English, because it’s dripping off of Fleur Delacour’s every line.

At the bizarre extreme, we see inappropriate application of North U.K. and South U.S.-isms to every uneducated and/or poor character ever to appear in fan fic.  When wanting to get across that Steve Rogers is a simple Brooklyn boy, MCU fans have him slip into “mustn’t” and “we is.”  When conveying that Robin 2.0 is raised poor in Newark, he uses “ain’t” and “y’all” and “din.”  Never mind that Iron Man is from Manhattan, or that Robin 3.0 is raised wealthy in Newark; neither of them ever gets a written-out accent.

Solution #2: A little word choice can go a long way, and a little research can go even further.  Listen carefully to the way people talk — on the bus, in a café, on unscripted YouTube — and write down their exact word choice.  “We good” literally means the same thing as “no thank you,” but one’s a lot more formal than the other.  “Ain’t” is a perfectly good synonym for “am not,” but not everyone will use it.

The Obscure Problem: It’s not even how people talk.

Look at how auto-transcription software messes up speaking styles, and it’s obvious that no one pronounces every spoken sound in every word that comes out of their mouth.  Consider how Americans say ��you all right?”; 99% of us actually say something like “yait?”, using tone and head tilt to convey meaning.  Politicians speak very formally; friends at bars speak very informally.

An example: I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Texas, in which case I’m from “Baltmore, Marlind.”  Unless I’m speaking to an American from Pennsylvania, in which case I’m from “Balmore, Marlin.”  If I’m speaking to a fellow Marylander, I’m of course from “Bamor.”  (If I’m speaking to a non-American, I’m of course from “Washington D.C.”)  Trying to capture every phoneme of change from moment to moment and setting to setting would be ridiculous; better just to say I inflect more when talking to people from outside my region.

When you write out an accent, you insert yourself, the writer, as an implied listener.  You inflict your value judgments and your linguistic ear on the reader, and you take away from the story.

Solution #3: When in doubt, just write the dialogue how you would talk.

[baeshijima]

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HSR3AMPHOREUS

HSR3DAWEISGIFT

redeem here

BANNERS

PHASE ONE : the herta, lingsha, feixiao, jade

PHASE TWO : aglaea, boothill, robin, silver wolf

QUESTS

trailblaze mission: heroic saga of flame-chase

EVENTS

from jan 27 - feb 2, we can choose to claim a fixed reward (100 jades) or draw a lottery ticket (90% chance for 50 jades, 10% chance for 600 jades, 20 winners for 500,000 jades) daily for the 7 days

and yes, you can win the whole 500,000 jades, not a distribution

MISC

amphoreus main story will last until 3.7 !!

tb and dan heng will go into amphoreus together while the rest of the crew + allies will have a separate storyline

herta will get an animated short and a myriad celestia

new mechanic called "as i've written" which will record the stories of the heroes as we progress

20 free pulls

free march 7th skin during 3.0 login

new light cones:

new remembrance trace material

new cavern relics

resin cap increased to 300

levelling guide

relic optimisation (able to choose main + substat & reroll 5* relics already at lvl 15, with the rolls being redistributed)

[shinystealingbirb]

I KNEW THIS BITCH WAS SANDBAGGING THE 3.0 FIGHT!!! I FUCKING KNEW IT AND NO ONE BELIEVED ME

“oh Robin dan hengs not comfortable using Cloudhymm because it reminds him of Dan feng” “robin he doesn’t trust aglaea or mydei enough to use Cloudhymm in their prescence” AND? WORLD ENDING BOSS THREAT REQUIRES SOME SOLUTIONS????

dude I hope he sweeps up the entire undead world to drag (future phainon?) back down to the depths. I hope we see how cloudhymm affects the reincarnation of dan feng. I hope we see a limit to how far he can push Cloudhymm magic, and if not I will write the damn story myself

[synesthesiadreamscape]

The Identity of Cyrene’s murderer, or the Past, Present, and Eternal Self

Ancient Hymn Trailer — "Of Titans and the Mortal Realms"

(I know we’re not in Penacony anymore, just let me have this).

There’s something interesting happening in Amphoreus. And no, I’m not talking about the eerie parallels between the world’s superficial god-slaying prophecy and the ongoing Aeon-slaying subplot playing out in the universe, or the clandestine Memokeeper who tried to spy on Herta and Nous, or even the mysterious murmurings of Oronyx calling for their “mother.” All of those things, I think, are the secrets about this world that the writers actually care about wrapping in mystery. What I find fascinating is that, to this point, there are just as many things that they evidently do not care about keeping a secret, making only the barest effort, if any, to try and hide the truth.

I think the identity of Cyrene’s killer is a prime example of this. Let me show you what I mean.

SPOILERS: Amphoreus Act I: Heroic Saga of Flame-Chase and Honkai Impact 3rd’s Elysium Everlasting arc (and also parts of the Elysian Realm arc). You have been warned!

Amphoreus’ first act concludes with Kevin Phainon undergoing Nikador’s trial to prove he’s worthy to inherit Strife’s legacy. We know Phainon is unsure of this path, despite his repeated assertions that he’s been waiting for this moment, and that it’s his dream to inherit Nikador’s authority. As of this writing, the outcome of the trial is undecided.

…Except we do know its outcome, because Mydei has already been drip marketed as the heir of the Lance of Fury, two weeks before 3.0 even dropped.

“O Chrysos Heir that seeks the Coreflame of Strife, you must suffer a thousand deaths, be bathed in blood on the path home, and bear the madness of fate alone, for one must slay a god to become one.”  (Amphoreus' Saga of Heroes | Mydei)

Not exactly suspenseful for the people engaging with Honkai Star Rail’s social media accounts. What’s more, towards the end of Act I, Mem gives the Trailblazer a storybook called “As I’ve Written” to record their memories of the flame-chase journey and the flame-chasers Chyrsos Heirs. Just like the Titans’ constellations are displayed on a wheel in the Vortex of Genesis, the Chrysos Heirs are represented as icons around a similar constellation wheel after the Trailblazer writes a memory of them into the book. Mydei, unsurprisingly, is occupying the same space as Nikador’s constellation, while Phainon is at the top over the constellation I presume is Kephale’s. Again, this is not exactly a well-guarded secret. All of the marketing for Amphoreus has strongly implied that Kephale is Phainon’s fate, down to the design of Phainon’s eyes. The devs are not even trying to hide this, because it is not supposed to be a secret or point of intrigue in-and-of-itself. In other words, we know the result, but we don’t know how these characters will get there.

Now, spoilers-by-drip-marketing are not a new thing in Honkai Star Rail or in Hoyo games in general (looking at you, Mavuika and Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae and Wanderer and Robin and–). But that’s not the only example of shit they don’t seem to care about keeping secret in Amphoreus. If you frequent any HSR fan spaces, then surely you’ve seen theories by now about our new friend Mem:

If you haven’t, then here’s the sitch: the current running theory is that Mem is Cyrene, or at least connected to her in some way. Supporting evidence for this is a mix of vibes (Cyrene and Mem’s shared pink aesthetic, similarities between Mem and ELF Elysia’s role in Elysium Everlasting) and concrete hints rooted in the narrative (the memories Mem showed us of a little boy and girl [presumably Phainon and Cyrene] when we first land in Amphoreus, and this part of Nameless Faces), as well as the uncanny resemblance between Mem’s as-yet unnamed voice actors and the performances for Elysia and Cyrene in all languages. I definitely hear Marina Inoue in Mem’s Japanese voice acting.

This is still a fan theory, but there are too many coincidences pointing at least towards its partial truth. When it comes to Mem’s identity, it seems that the writers are far less concerned with players knowing who Mem is, but rather why she is appearing to us in this form.

Cyrene’s only explicit appearance as Cyrene in the story so far occurs in a 2D illustrated cutscene of Phainon’s past towards the end of the first act. Cyrene is sitting in a field in Aedes Elysiae, his homeland, and she says he will be “a hero worshipped by all” based on a card she drew (perhaps some Amphoreus astrology?). But Phainon resists this reading of fate because he has no interest in becoming a hero for the world, which is yet another aspect he shares with Kevin Kaslana.

And that’s when we’re confronted with the horror of Cyrene’s fate — she’s stabbed by an unknown assailant, with golden blood flowing from her wound:

To be honest, I didn’t read too much into this image until this past week while watching Cy Yu’s VODs on Youtube. Because upon seeing it again, I realized I knew that sword. And if you’ve been watching all of the marketing for Amphoreus, then you’ve seen it before too.

It belongs to this dude:

First two images are Mythology Opening, last image is Nameless Faces

That’s what happens when you stare for too long at Anaxa crumbs. Stuff gets burned into your brain that you didn’t even know was there, and it comes roaring to the front when you least expect it. Looking at these other stills of Masked Dude at 0.25x speed, I’m almost positive it’s the same blade.

And yes, this is a tenuous connection at best as is, but hear me out. There’s a lot more to it than just the similar blade shape.

Elysium Everlasting

Cyrene is inarguably a variant of Elysia from Honkai Impact 3rd, and if you’re not familiar with the game then let’s just say she is extremely important in shaping Part 1’s finale. TL;DR, Elysia is from the Previous Era, the generation of humans before Kiana, Mei, and Bronya, who lost to the Honkai and had their civilization destroyed. She was one of the Flamechasers, a group of humans who were modified with the genes of strong Honkai beasts so that they could fight and resist the Honkai in ways other humans could not. Mei learns about this past era by venturing into the Elysian Realm, a simulation composed of every Flamechaser’s memories, where she first meets Elysia’s simulation.

Before the Previous Era lost to the Herrscher of Finality, the real Elysia sacrificed herself so that when she returned to the Honkai, her pure love for humanity would influence the Will of Honkai so that the next Herrscherrs could retain their humanity and the will to fight for its survival rather than its destruction. By doing so, she paved the way for a brighter future that she would never witness herself. I flag this plot point because it almost exactly mirrors what happened with Gnaeus at the end of Act I, and you know how Hoyo loves to foreshadow greater plots through subplots like this:

Gnaeus: I will return to where I came from and become a part of Nikador’s divinity once more. In all likelihood. I will also be consumed by corruption. An inevitable course of action if we hope to end this madness. Castorice: You are willing to…sacrifice yourself for a future you won’t get to witness? Gnaeus: This is my purpose, my origin. I am no mortal and I do not fear death…Even so, will you still weep for me? (Kremnos, Cleanse Thy Rusted Blood (II))

The last memory sync the real Elysia did with the realm happened before she died, so reconstructing the memory of her death in Elysium Everlasting required uniting the memories of those who witnessed it - and one of the people who not only witnessed it, but executed it, was Kevin Kaslana.

This leaves us in an uncomfortable position regarding Cyrene’s death. Could her executioner, (presumably) Masked Dude, actually be Phainon filling a similar role to Kevin's? In Nameless Faces, we see Phainon and Mydei fighting Masked Dude themselves, which would seem to rule this possibility out, nevermind that it seems Cyrene died when they were both children, and that Phainon once sought revenge for having his home ripped away from him. How could he be angry about what happened, and also be the reason it happened? And wouldn’t this direction for Cyrene's death be too close to Elysium Everlasting if it’s true? After all, Shaoji said these characters would have their own fates, separate from some of their variants from Honkai Impact 3rd, right? I think this is still true, but it doesn’t have to rule out the possibility of Masked Dude being “Phainon.” 

It’s clear that there’s a lot more to Phainon than meets the eye. “Phainon” is apparently not his true name, and in his recent past he followed a much darker path than the one he’s on now. Kevin also was known to wear a ‘mask’ while he was in MOTH, only rarely revealing his true feelings to the people he was closest to, and even then he kept many of them in the dark, including Su, MEI, and Elysia. Everyone can tell Phainon is going to crash out at some point in Amphoreus, the writing is on the wall re: his lack of a strong will, his surprise that borrowing a Titan’s power actually hurts them, and the little he seems to understand about the true nature of the prophecy he and the other Chrysos Heirs are following.

Castorice: The prophecy gave him a new mission, granting him a new life as a Chrysos Heir. But which is more important to him: his new mission or his desire for revenge?

This part of him, his “past” self that bubbles beneath the surface of his “present” self, may come back to haunt him as he journeys toward Kephale’s Coreflame in more than just a figurative way. It’s not like this is out of the realm of possibility - we’ve already seen how past and present can be superimposed on one another in Amphoreus, interacting in strange ways through tools that construct illusions (perhaps a consequence of both the Erudition and the Remembrance’s influence). Or maybe it’s that Masked Dude is actually split off from Phainon himself, similar to Wonweek and Sunday, or all of Tingyun’s “selves” in A New Venture on the Eighth Dawn.

And speaking of past selves, there’s a pretty fun puzzle throughout Amphoreus called Golden Scapegoat that features a “past” version of the player, which shapes the gameplay into a series of convoluted maneuvers to both avoid your shadow and trick it into creating a path forward for you. If we read this puzzle as an additional clue to the main story’s themes, just as Oronyx’s puzzles involve using shapes to create light and shadow that construct a desired form (Plato’s Allegory of the Cave), then the idea that Masked Dude is a shadow of Phainon has some additional support, though I suppose there’s nothing specifically limiting it to Phainon, either:

"Past self appears as an embodiment of darkness"

However, I did think this passage of the Golden Scapegoat’s Mutterings was interesting given the nature of Elysia’s death, since Kevin knew Elysia wasn’t their enemy and partook in her sacrifice because he wanted to believe in the future she envisioned. Still need to do a close reading of the rest of it, but this is from the 4th part:

There’s also a part of the Mythology Opening trailer that I assume is Masked Dude talking (I could be mistaken, so take this with a massive grain of salt), and while I will say in Japanese it is not clear to me that it’s Satoshi Hino’s voice (I kinda hear it, but it feels delusional), in English to me it has that same uncanny similarity to Joshua Waters’ Phainon that Mem’s voice has to Cyrene’s (compare Phainon’s “even gods can bleed” to the link clip). This is pretty copium evidence, since these similarities could be all in my head, but for what it’s worth…

Phainon and Masked Dude shown right after each other (0:09 vs. 0:10) in Nameless Faces. What did they mean by this?

One last note on this Phainon/Masked Dude theory that I think is interesting. The theory that Phainon has something to do with Nanook is as ubiquitous as the theories about Mem and Cyrene, and while there’s clearly some Nanook symbolism going on in Nameless Faces when Phainon splashes golden blood on his torso, I am hoping Phainon will have a happier ending than Nanook and that he won’t go nearly as far as Kevin did in Honkai Impact 3rd. But if Masked Dude is some other version of Phainon, perhaps he is the allegory for Nanook’s ascent, and Phainon’s journey will represent an “alternative ending.” To put it another way, Kephale is the Worldbearer Titan, who shoulders the fate of Amphoreus and delivers mankind to hope and salvation. So what is the opposite of this role, or its shadow?

The Worldbreaker, who delivers all to Destruction:

While this theory did make more sense with some additional knowledge from Honkai Impact 3rd, the available official material for Amphoreus, including marketing videos like the Mythology Opening and Nameless Faces, is not exactly subtle about who Masked Dude might be. I mean come on, they use very similar visual storytelling with Phainon and Masked Dude in Nameless Faces as they do for Mem and Cyrene in the same video. This leads me to believe that this particular “secret,” as well as Masked Dude’s potential role in Cyrene’s fate, is yet another plot point that the writers don’t care that much about shrouding in mystery. And to me, this indicates that there is something much, much, bigger that they’re concealing through the story of Phainon and Cyrene, the “why” of Amphoreus rather than the “what.”

And that’s all! Hopefully you found this entertaining if nothing else ^_^ What lore have you found in Amphoreus so far?

EDIT: changed a sentence about what elysia's sacrifice would do for the next generation of humans cuz I realized the way I wrote it before was not accurate. ☺️

Director’s cut:

Chat, is it normal if your CHIMERA has horns? Get it? …I’ll see myself out.

(no but why does this kitty chimera have horns like the golden scapegoat character?)

References:

What Happened in Elysium Everlasting!? Chapter 29 - 31 Story Recap by Homu Labs. This channel is the GOAT for HI3rd lore.

[melanieph321]

Hi, could you do a robin le normand x black reader were she is with him during the Euros but he is too focused on the games and doesn’t take a break

OF COURSE!!!! He's so underrated!

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 3.0

(DAY 6)

Robin Le Normand x Black Reader - Just Me And You

Enjoy!

Spain was through to the semi-finals. What a relief. Your boyfriend, Robin, would've felt it too, the pure relief of the referees final whistle as it shook an entire football stadium, reviving the roars of the Spanish crowd.

It worried you for some reason. It worried you what the pressure of playing in this years Euros did to you boyfriend. Although he would never admit it, you knew that it kept him up at night. The thoughts of winning kept him up at night, along with the anxious thoughts of disappointing anyone who rooted for him.

"Y/N!"

You and your friends left the stadium with a stream of people surrounding you. The voyage back to your hotel could get tricky once the night traffic hit, meaning it was best to hurry.

"Y/N, over here!"

However, as the three of you crossed the busy streets of Stuttgart in a hurry to catch the next train, a car pulled up to the sidewalk, blocking your path.

"Theo?" You frowned, suprised to see Robin's brother out and about at this hour.

"Y/N, I've been meaning to call you." He said, through the car's rolled down window. "Robin wants you to meet him back at the teams hotel."

"He does?" Your head shifted to your friends.

"Go." They nodded approvingly "We'll see you tomorrow for brunch, won't we?"

"Right, tomorrow....brunch."

Despite the hesitant feeling in your gut, you ended up hopping into Theo's car, letting him take you back to the hotel where the Spanish players stayed. It would be your first time visiting since the start of the tournament. As well as your first time seeing your boyfriend since the start of the tournament. Unless you didn't count the times you saw him running up and down the football pitch. Nevertheless, it was his way of dealing with some of the pressure. Robin convinced you that keeping you away would help him maintain his focus on the game. A method that came with its many sacrifices.

"Y/N, you're here!"

It was quite emotional being reunited. You took the elevator up to the floor of Robin's hotel room, knocking on his door. He was still dressed in his match garments as he greeted you with a warm smile, pulling you into a tight hug. "God, I've missed you." He sighed.

"I've missed you too." You squeald, a slight fear that you may never let him go again.

"Come in. I was just about to hop in the shower." He took your hand and guided you into his room. It stung a little to see that the suite he stayed in was arrogantly spacious, with room to fit more than just one person. Still, Robin had convinced you that he needed his space. What could you do but give it to him?

"Do you want anything while you wait? A bottle of water or perhaps something to eat?"

"No thanks baby, I'm okay."

He smiled. "Yeah, you're probably right not to have a snack before dinner."

"Dinner?" You frowned. "Are you taking me out to eat?"

"Sure I am." Robin went over to his closet, picking out a shirt to wear.

"Oh, okay. I guess I forgot that we made plans." You said, taking a seat on his neatly made bed. Everything about his hotel room was neat. You suspected that Robin had given housekeeping clear instructions to keep it that way. Neat and tidy.

"We didn't. But I thought, since I have a day off tomorrow...."

"You have a day off?"

"Yes. Everyone on the team has."

"And you want to spend it how?"

"My day off?"

You nodded.

"With you, of course." He walked over where you sat on the bed, tilting his head down to kiss the top off your head. "We can do whatever you want. I'll even take you shopping." He chuckled.

"How about we don't do anything." You said, a hand nipping at the hemn of his grass stained jersey.

"You mean stay in?"

You tilted your head, meeting your boyfriend's mesmerizing eyes. " Starting now." You shrugged. "A real day off. No dinner, no shopping, no football."

"No dinner, no shopping, no football." He repeated, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"A real day off."

He smiled, slowly nodding his head. "A real day off."

You perked up, kissing his lips. "Trust me, you really need it."

He regarded you curiously. Nevertheless, with a nod to his head, he agreed to it.

"Great." You smiled. "Now, hop in the shower while I order us room service."

"Yes, ma'am." Robin grinned and made his way to the bathroom. It was set. You and your boyfriend were finally getting some time together, just you and him.

You made yourself comfortable, switching out your dress for one of your boyfriend's comfy hoodies. You loved having the sent of him rubbing off on your skin, and as your room service arrived, the two of you spent the rest of the night in bed, lounging and watching TV. Your conversations shifted from heaven to earth without an intended end to it. It was the perfect way to recharge and rejuvenate after a stressful few days. As his girlfriend, you couldn't be more proud of Robin and his performance in the tournament. You spent the whole night telling him just that.

"I love you." He whispered. "Thank you for always being there for me."

"I'll always be here for you, baby."

Robin smiled and wrapped his arms around you, your head coming to a rest against his chest. You fell asleep like that, in each other's arms, your hearts beating as one.

[plotbunny-bundle]

Bruce having his morning coffee looking out the window: "Is that a fucking peacock?"

I made this with https://fakechatmaker.com and microsoft paint

attempt at an image description and more legible text under the cut.

Image description

[a fake screenshot of an unlabeled discord chat. The time marked at the top of the fake screenshot is 9:26 AM.

An image of a peacock standing on grass. A person without an icon labeled Me, implied to be Bruce Wayne comments “Apparently we have a peacock”. The time of this comment is labeled as 7:54 AM.

A person labeled Robin III with an icon of an overhead view of the Gotham skyline replies “oh you found it”

An icon of a black and yellow flashlight labeled The Signal replies “was that not normal fake rich people shit?” Then corrects himself to “stuff” with an Asterix.

Batgirl 3.0 who has an icon that is a block of purple replies “OMG did Damian steal it from Penguin or something?”

Me(Bruce Wayne): “language.”

The Signal: “sorry”

Nightwing whose icon is a comic panel of Nightwing eating popcorn comments “B I don’t think this is an appropriate place to be having this discussion.”

Me replies “My front yard is not an appropriate place for a peacock.”

Robin III comments “@Batgirl 3.0 He did. Exotic animal trafficking raid. About a week and a half ago.”

 Me asks “how long has that animal been in my house?”

Robin IV: “he is not an animal! He is a majestic peafowl who deserves more than to live life in a cage!”  Robin IV’s icon is the Robin symbol associated with Damian Wayne.

Red Hood whose icon is a brick wall comments “WHO IS BLOWING UP THE GROUP CHAT AT EIGHT IN THE FUCKING MORNING!” in all caps.

Me: “language.” Red Hood responds with an emoji of the middle finger.

Nightwing: “Guys let’s calm down. It’s just morning and we were all up late last night.”

The Signal: “I wasn’t.

Batgirl 2 whose icon is a yellow Bat symbol over a black background. Asks “cute what’s its name?”

Robin IV: “His name is Richard”.

Batgirl 3.0: “LMAO”

Nightwing: “excuse me!?”

Robin III replies with a crying laughing emoji.

Red Hood: “Ha that’s perfect. Hold on.”

Robin IV: “it isn’t an insult you imbeciles! The peafowl is a majestic animal that represents the beauty and grace of the flying Graysons!”

13 minutes later Red Hood replies by posting a black-and-white picture of Nightwing in his discowing costume.

The Signal replies with two crying laughing emojis.

 Batgirl 3.0 replies “what is that?”

Robin III:  “Nightwing’s first costume. It was Acrobat inspired. It’s not as bad as the mullet.”

Batgirl 3.0: “Oh I have to see that.”

 Robin III: “give me a moment. I’ll find a photo.”

Nightwing: “don’t dish out what you can’t take little brothers. B has footage of both your first weeks as Robin.”

Robin III: “which means he has footage of you to Dick”

Nightwing: “Caroline. Hill.”

Robin III: “you wouldn’t.”

Nightwing: “you have no idea what I do.”

Red Hood: “I change my mind. It is still worth getting woken up at ass a.m. for this.”

Robin III: “really? Look at your eighth grade textbooks in a while? I wonder if Rena is still around.”

Me (Bruce Wayne) : “enough. Tim Dick stop blackmailing your brothers. Damien you will find a rescue for Richard. We will not be keeping him. Everyone else next time you see a strange animal in the manner tell me or Alfred as soon as you can.”

Robin IV :“yes father.”

The Signal : “well that was an interesting way to start the day.” The time of last comment is 9:25 AM

End ID]

[hanaleeappreciationweek]

We begin our first day of Hana Lee Appreciation Week 3.0 TOMORROW!!

In our previous editions, we had kept Hana's AWs on days that celebrated her passion - music! This time, we decided to shake things up a little, and hold the event around the time of World Book Day! This time of the year is also fitting because it will be spring in many parts of the world, and there are very few things that remind us of Hana more than flowers do!!

Day 1 has two themes to choose from - Character Appreciation and Throwback.

We love having Character Appreciation as a theme because it encompasses everything!! Anything goes - as long as it includes whatever you love most about Hana.

Throwback is simple - any creative work on Hana that you've done before this edition of HLAW came out! Reblog any fic, art or meta that you've done before on her, and if you'd like to take us through the process of how you made the work - we'd love to read all about it!!

Any content is welcome!! Fanfic, fanart, edits, moodboards, interactive, media, headcanons, screenshots, playlists, meta...even screenshots of your favourite scenes would be great!! Our only requirement is that the content is centered on Hana, and that the depiction of her is positive. You can also send in WIPs in case you don't complete a work!

You can also send in a work on the days following a particular theme - this is no pressure for it to be put up exactly that day! We will also have an extra week for anyone who still needs time 💕 May 4th will be our final official date for entries (to incorporate into our video!) but HLAW will still be open for entries for the rest of the year until the next event!

You can find our full list of prompts here!

Be sure to do the following when making your posts:

1. Use the tags #hanaleeappreciationweek and #HLAW in the tags (along with the day you made the post for - #HLAW Day 1, #HLAW Day 2 etc)

2. Tag @hanaleeappreciationweek as well as hosts @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes, we don't miss out on your posts!

FAN CONTENT BLOGS are instrumental in keeping the fandom alive - with events and fun activities that encourage us all to contribute and create. They have also been amazing in their support towards our character events. Do check them out to see all the new incredible events and prompts coming up!

@choicesficwriterscreations - Primarily fanfic and fanart (no AI allowed). Check out their rules and roster of events!

@choicesmonthlychallenge & @choicesaprilchallenge24 - Any and all content welcome! They have a collection of prompts you can use for the month of April!

@choicespride - Any and all content is welcome, as long as it is centered around queer characters and/or themes.

@choicesflashfics - Primarily fanfic under a 2500 word count. Every week they use new dialogue prompts. The prompts for the coming week will be out soon!

@choicesholidays - Any and all content welcome, as long as it is centered around one of the holidays listed! Currently, they are hosting Spring Fling!

@choicesprompts - Any and all content welcome! You can check out their current Round Robin event here!

Hope to see more incredible works from you all for Hana this week!

Happy Hana Lee Appreciation Week, everyone!!

[garadinervi]

Emily Dickinson, Her – "last Poems" –, Amherst Manuscript # 688, [1861] [(asc:2781 - p. 1). Emily Dickinson Archive. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA. CC BY-NC-ND 3.0]

Bibl.: The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson, With an Introduction by her niece Martha Dickinson Bianchi, Little, Brown, and Company, Boston, MA, 1924, pp. 292-293

Her – "last Poems" – (J312) Poets – ended – Silver – perished – with her Tongue – Not on Record – bubbled other, Flute – or Woman – So divine – Not unto it's Summer – Morning Robin – uttered Half the Tune – Gushed too free for the Adoring – From the Anglo – Florentine – Late – the Praise – 'Tis dull – conferring On the Head too High to Crown – Diadem – or Ducal Showing – Be it's Grave – sufficient sign – Nought – that We – No Poet's Kinsman – Suffocate – with easy wo – What, and if, Ourself a Bridegroom – Put Her down – in Italy?

[outivv]

https://x.com/dailycaelus/status/1812890084045389960?t=pnMzWIplb4Qsjeu200JClw&s=19

Very important information!

Long story short an anon insider from Hoyoverse is stating that while raising awarness on social media apps is great. We should take a step further and start dropping reviewing on any Playstore Site that has Genshin.

Express why you are dissatisfied and use hastages to bring more awarness. As for right now the Playstore reviews are dropping that it went from a 4 star review to 3.0 review. Hoyoverse is desperately trying to get reviews back by adding bots.

We shouldn't be just doing this with Genshin. Do this with ALL HOYOVERSE GAMES. Honkai Star Rail, Tears of Themis, ZZZ, etc.

HSR is facing the same problem as Genshin with Boothill being Native American coded, Penacony reloving around Jazz but have no Black character, Aventurine being Romani etc.

YEA YES!! I tried talking about this in my Hoyoverse boycott post, but I only touched on it briefly- but Hoyoverse games IN GENERAL are the overall problem. Tears of Themis has issues with being orientalist- and just shitty. Zenless Zone Zero apparently has actual blackface! Not good! Uhhh- outside of the record store on one of the little record poster thingies I believe. Honkai impact third has… straight up racism, and a subpar character plot about learning to love your skin color no matter what and she just goes “ummm actually no :)”, and oh my god I haven’t talked much on Honkai Star rail on this account but ykw I’ll go further into it.

Boothill- Boothill is based off of Native American culture, and is supposed to also be Latino. In the CN ORIGINAL translation of the game- his planet is named after two very real Native American tribes, his backstory recreates the same colonization that happened to native Americans specifically- calling Boothill’s people savages, and putting them in reservations after completely carpet bombing his planet, killing most of the population, and destroying the ecosystem. However, despite this Boothill has nothing to show for his heritage, or the fact that he is based around native, and Hispanic people except for the fact that he’s a cowboy- and even then sometimes I feel like he’s played up in game as like actually stupid for comedic relief when he’s not stupid AT ALL. (Sorry, Boothill’s one of my favs and a bad hyperfixation so I’m super passionate about how he needs proper representation)

Aventurine- aventurine is called a slur by sparkle, both sparkle and dr ratio point out specific racist stereotypes against aventurine that are usually targeted at Romani people which is who aventurine, and his entire home planet are based off of (that’s why I’m not a huge fan of Dr ratio x aventurine personally. Dr ratio isn’t racist imo, he’s just lowkey fucking mean and said the wrong thing to the wrong person). Aventurine’s backstory is also fucked in my opinion, and the way people in the fandom take his backstory and treat him as a character only really started getting bad bad after we found out he was Romani, but that’s a fandom issue- it’s still something to comment on.

Arlan- while Arlan is the darkest character Hoyoverse has made to date, he also has his talent names beeee references to slavery. Straight up. “Shackle breaker”, “frenzied punishment”, “swift harvest”, and then his eidolons- “breaking free”, and “hammer and tongs”. Not cool, kinda fucked up.

And that’s just the characters I can think of off the top of my head- not including Jade and her shit cause I know she has some stuff that’s like fucked up about her and ik she’s racist I just haven’t done my research on how she is racist and like gathered all the evidence basically lol, but that’s also just the characters, not to mention what you said anon- how penacony is based off of the jazz age but has no playable black characters? Girl whatttt? Gimmie a slay ass like black singer who’s besties with Robin, cmon now- don’t a coward Hoyoverse, you know DAMN WELL that she would sell too.

Hoyoverse games overall are like this, so please pay attention to all Hoyoverse games, and Hoyoverse mostly only listens to the App Store reviews so PLEASEEEEE go and review bomb ONLY Hoyoverse games. Start with Genshin and Honkai Star rail, go to Zenless Zone Zero and Honkai Impact 3rd then finish with Tears of Themis, don’t do it all at once if you can’t!! Just go review all of them one stars!!

[mostsanescarletspiderfan]

Some time ago I made a post about a day time Gotham team and it made me go back to search for a few other teams I had in mind that were in my notes.

Since Gotham is over crowded and DC doesn't commit to its heroes to fully move out from there, here are the names:

• GOTHAM CITY

Night shift - 7 members

Dark knights - 7 members

Secret sixteen - 16 members

We Are Robin 3.0 - 8 members

Gotham city sirens - 4 members

Gotham knights - 7 members

• PLATINUM FLATS

birds of prey - 9 members

Oracles - 5 members

•BLÜHAVEN

Nightwings - 5 members

(no name yet) - 5 members

• ATLANTA

(no name yet) - 4 members

I'll make individual posts for all of them and go in detail about what they are about in the weeks (or months depending on how lazy I'm feeling).

Btw most of them still need to be worked over because there are still a few heroes that don't know where to put and characters that I have barely read about also I forgot to add that this takes place a few years down the line (like Damian is already an adult)

Fuck It I'm making my own DC universe.

[hquntinghunter]

i honestly don't trust people who think 2.6 was nothing but a "big yap fest." like, did you even play through the story?

i don't really understand the reasons provided for why people don't. i'm presented with, "who cares" (while playing through, they make you care?), "all they make is filler stories at this point" (penacony's story ended in 2.3 and they needed to engage players up until 3.0, of course they are going to make filler stories? also, some of them weren't even filler. 2.7 finished up sunday and tingyun's character arcs.)

i REALLY liked 2.6. i liked the message, the way they told the story, the characters, the backstories, the interactions we got with boothill and robin and boothill and march, dan heng's voicelines, the chaotic silliness the trailblazer brings...

it really has everything i like (rappa, the way it all comes together is fucking delicious, MARCHHILL CRUMBS, BOOTHILL GETTING YANKED OUT OF HIS SEAT ONTO THE DANCE FLOOR, BOOTHILL SAYING YEEHAW, MARCH DANCING, the trailblazer's chaos meter being amped up to ten, etc.)

maybe i'm biased due to it having a lot of things i like, but seriously. 2.6 wasn't just a "yap fest."