#tim? non-standard but I really like it

[gaywineauntsstuff]

I love the idea of Dick being all the Batkid's favourite sibling but in violently different fonts.

Jason: Dick and Jay canonically have a pretty solid relationship but i'm partial to the Jason was around for Dick's rebellion stage and so Dick doesn't think he has to worry about the pedestal thing bc Jason has absolutely seen him violently hungover before he was legally allowed to drink font of this

So by the time Jason comes back and is no longer trying to murder Tim (except psychologically) Dick decides... Well he's evil sometimes but also I can finally tell someone all the Titans drama. So him and Jason meet up like once month if they're in the same city and get progressively drunker while shit talking their teams and Bruce.

Also I hate the Dick and Robin!Jason didn't get along. They absolutely did, Dick was like 0.5 seconds away from taking Jason to live with the titans permanently.

Tim: 'Oh Jason is Tims Robin, Oh Dick betrayed Tims trust.' in the name of the orange dude y'all elected twice W R O N G. Tim Drake used to watch VHS tapes of the flying Graysons routine. He wasn't even a batman Stan first. That came after he saw Robin do a quadruple summersault. Tim is a Dick Grayson fanboy first Person second. Like Tim canonically saw Jason die and went lmao skill issue, imagine not being like Dick Grayson i'm better. When Dick first started training him, he'd consistently excuse himself go to the other room, hyperventilate over Dick Grayson teaching him how to train surf. Dick is not just his idol he's also a pretty substantial part of Tim's support system. He calls Dick when he's going through something or is stuck on a case. And he knows that Dick will always have his back. They have like the unrealistic adorable sibling relationships from Tv that don't exist irl. Tim also does that awkward shuffle thing after fights bc they're still siblings and Dick just pretends the fight didn't happen until Tims calm again

Damian: You have to understand Damian thought he'd have to basically do the league all over again. He lands with Bruce and those ideas are soundly rejected and he now has no trust or respect and he has to adjust. And Bruce is doing his holier than thou, you should know better 10yro who literally was brainwashed as a child act, like Tim didn't have to pull him away from straight up becoming a villain and Dick didn't have to put him in his place with his fists a couple times a year (we love Bruce really). Then Bruce gets Time-streamed, Tim runs away and now the circus freak is BATMAN. Except the circus freak is also a sadistic bastard to criminals, despite being made out of marshmallows to you. Dick hangs people upside down off high buildings for information and cackles as Nightwing. He also listens to Damians worries and helps him deconstruct his bias view of the world. Dick canonically set the standard for child heroes and is among one of the most beloved and trusted heroes despite being marshmallowy and refusing to murder people. Dick is kinda like Damians stand in non pretentious moral compass until he learns his own one later on. Hence why Damian adores Dick Grayson more than anyone really.

in summary support my agenda that Dick and Jason are gossipy drinking buddies, Tim absolutely had a Dick Grayson Shrine as a child and Damian calls Dick to double check that he still cannot kill Timothy (its now entirely a joke.... mostly)

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for derpsheep behind the cut; “a fake cryptid and a real romantic”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim is having a terrible night, by which he means the Batman is currently looming over him like a creepy eldritch nightmare of a gargoyle while he’s trying to go meet Superboy for the patrol/hunting-date they scheduled and the Batman is not at all taking the “go away, I have a date” hint. 

Said “hint” for the record, was Tim explicitly saying the words, “go away, I have a date”. The Batman apparently thought that meant Calendar Man was causing trouble, though, so now Tim’s being Bat-stalked and has the Batman in his shadow, which is just really, really embarrassing in this situation. Like getting dropped off for a date by your weird neighbor who used to babysit you sometimes or something, he doesn’t know. 

Definitely embarrassing, yeah. Just–way too many kinds of embarrassing. He bets Superman isn’t dropping Superboy off right now. 

Ugh.

“Look, I promise, this is not a ‘Bat’ thing,” he says. “In no way whatsoever is this in fact a Bat thing.” 

leaving Gotham? the Batman asks. 

“No,” Tim says with a sigh, because he knows the Batman’s answer to them not leaving Gotham is gonna be– 

Bat thing, the Batman says, inexorable and inarguable as a snapped grapple and the force of gravity. 

Tim suffers.

“It’s just a date, B,” he says in exasperation. “I don’t follow you to go see Catwoman or Talia al Ghul, do I?” 

you do, the Batman says. 

. . . dammit, Tim thinks. The Batman wasn’t supposed to notice that. 

“Okay but Superboy is not a criminal who’s trying to use me to case a place for a thematic jewel heist!” he protests, puffing up Robin’s feathers indignantly. Most of the time the Batman understands Robin’s body language better than anything, really, and Tim has to admit there is something sort of satisfying about being able to flare up to twice his size when he’s irritated. At least on some level, anyway. “Or an assassin who might wanna feed me to her evil dad’s weird magic pit!” 

not feed, the Batman says. awaken. 

“That answer is no less creepy and unnerving than the last four times, I hope you know,” Tim tells him. “Not in the least because you’ve never clarified if the League is trying to awaken something in you or something in the pit.” 

“Tt,” the Batman says, which is honestly even more creepy and unnerving, given how rarely he actually makes actual noises. Or, like–correction: makes actual noises that sound, like–human, almost. The screeching and wailing and screaming is all pretty standard, but human noises . . . yeah, no. 

Tim already doesn’t like to talk to the Batman when he’s in his “human” aspect as it is. He isn’t some self-absorbed socialite or smarmy politician or shallow asshole with no genuine interest in other people, is the thing; when the Batman actually uses his voice, Tim can hear what that voice actually sounds like. 

As far as Tim knows, when it comes to humans, literally only Dick’s ever been able to stand the actual sound of the Batman’s voice. Jason apparently just, like–could grit his teeth through it, or hide behind Pennyworth. Tim, personally, forgets he has teeth, when he can actually hear the sound of the Batman’s voice. He doesn’t even know what Selina hears, but he does know she does most of the talking when she and the Batman are out together. And he still feels bad for Superman, after the sister-city gala incident with Metropolis.

Definitely he still feels bad for Superman after that.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

i think you've done this with the worst ones already but top 5 favorite canon riddle guy designs in comics for you

god this is one of the hardest asks I've ever received. he kind of wears the same shit with small variations in most comics and it would be so much easier and this would definitely be a different like if I could include non-comic designs. but I think. I think I've done this.

5.) Tim Sale's absolutely WRETCHED Dark Victory (1999) Riddler... this is a newt of some kind. pathetic. a stuffed animal rescued from a damp parking lot.

4.) I really like the Riddler in Batman: A New Dawn (2009) because he's just Some Dude. like he's just a used car salesman. who does riddle crimes. he's not exaggeratedly ugly he's not some freakish little creature he's not trying to be a hot prettyboy like more recent Riddlers he's just hanging out making silly faces in a pretty standard outfit. he's so perfect to me.

3.) just THE classic Riddler question mark leotard with purple gloves + mask, shown here in Detective Comics Annual #8 (1995).

2.) the classic costume but with a broken arm to be twice as pathetic. these examples come from Detective Comics #662 (1993) and somewhere in Detective Comics #705-#707 (1997). if I had a nickel, etc.

1.) the fucking. frog suit. from the Batman Adventures Vol. 2 #11 (2004). this issue makes him much cuter (in a weasel way) than his animated counterpart and SOOOO expressive, so I'm very fond of him in general but this outfit in particular is everything to me. that's my scringly little blorbo bleebus in his little climbing outfit.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

I Know Those Eyes Pt 2

why yes i am continuing this

“You’re certain.”

Batman’s words were clipped. Less a question than a threat of consequences. Tim nodded, no hesitation.

“I’d have to have access to a blood or skin sample for 100% confidence, but… yeah. As of 1:23 A.M. this morning, we have confirmed visuals of Lex Luthor and Damian Wayne, alive and mobile, in downtown Gotham City.”

He brought up images of the hotel.

“Hotel Spillane, originally used by the Falcone family, mainly used by the successors of their original business interests. Several legal and executive representatives of one of these interests arrived over the course of the night and previous evening, with Luthor and… Damian being the last to arrive.”

Keep it together, Tim.

“Oracle looked into Luthor’s new identity. It’s so obvious I am actually mad. He’s backstopped a whole life story as Lex Luthor’s estranged twin brother, Lionel V. Luthor, going by the nickname Vlad. Sole inheritor of all Lex Luthor’s assets.”

He brought up the images on file for ‘Lionel’ as well as his own analysis of the footage.

“The confusing part is what he did after inheriting–he has been spending a lot of money on sustainability research, alternative fuels, updated emergency service systems, things like that. As far as I can tell he wants to make premium versions of those things and sell them for a profit, but is playing the long game by flooding the board with cheap goods while gaining good PR.”

He called up the files on VladCo.

“The rest he used to get a tech startup running, VladCo. Apparently he’s interested in ‘standardizing the nonstandard’, whatever that means, but he hasn’t really made anything for the mass market yet. The closest we can find is he’s been making something classified for the U.S. government.”

He took a shaky breath and called up what he had on Damian. He felt Bruce’s pained, shocked exhale more than he heard it, but it was there all the same. So… there really wasn’t any doubt.

“Daniel Summers. On paper he’s 24, was raised in Chicago, and while he’s acting as Luthor’s bodyguard we couldn’t find any official records of him being employed in that capacity. Probably because Oracle was only checking every thirty seconds and his birth certificate didn’t show up on any records until just before they arrived at the hotel.”

He started counting off on his fingers.

“So, 1: whoever is adding them to the system isn’t done yet. 2: they don’t actually care if they get caught. 3: they, very specifically, don’t care if we catch them.”

“You’re saying he’s taunting us.”

“It’s looking–hang on, Oracle says there’s a situation developing.”

One quick shortcut and video of a meeting room popped up on the screen. ‘Lionel’ was smugly facing down his very angry looking investors and their representatives. Suddenly, each of them seemed to calm down. Unnaturally fast, and in unison, with a very particular dull look to their eyes. Tim felt a chill down his spine.

Mind control. Lex Luthor was a meta now, and he had mind control! No wonder Damian hadn’t reached out–

But why? What did he still need Damian for? Unless…

Oh.

He met Batman’s eyes. The taunting, the lack of discretion, finding his first victims in Gotham City.

This was a hostage situation.

***

“You know, badger, you’re perfectly free to walk away from this part of the plan.”

“No, I promised. … still really creepy to watch, though.”

All the papers were signed, all the signatories overshadowed. Now all they had to do was get out of range.

Danny frowned as he saw the receptionist reach for the phone. Right, spy games. Someone was probably supposed to give her a code word when the meeting was over–

Her eyes went glassy, hand freezing around the phone, and seriously that would never stop being creepy to watch. Still, non-violent solution, he’d take it.

As they approached their car, Danny scanned the quiet, ominously lit street. Not for obvious cameras–he knew for a fact Oracle would never allow one to be obvious–but for the best possible angle a camera could have. Eliminating the ones that would have already been used, that left–

He had thought about this moment. How he would give some signal to let them know he was back. That he had been thinking of them.

… Tt. Another time. Too many layers to communicate through, too little space to do so. His gaze had lingered with a purpose, he could only hope that would communicate that Damian was still a part of him too.

For now, that would have to be enough.

***

-major reveal of this chapter: ‘Lex’ has mind control powers

-lol damian/danny is the ghost king, vlad holding him hostage? ha no

-yeah they did not plan the hostage thing but vlad is gonna jump on it with both feet later. like he’s not gonna take credit for it, amirite

-some chapters will be longer. some will be shorter. the main thing is still vibes

-yes, the last little bit is going to make things so much worse with the bats

-why Summers? anything winter-related would be too on the nose, and using a name associated with a very different comic book universe felt appropriate

-i've been a touch stressed so this got put on the backburner. yes, because current events

@hinari @blankliferain @grimdarling69

[gameo-archive]

"If the agency were to encounter a supernatural creature inspired by australia / new zealand, what would you want it to be based off? Also, what aussie food would you most like to try? Our top recommendations are timtams, milo, and fairy bread! For non sweets, vegemite (of course) and kangaroo steak are top notch Straydennation also keepss a leaderboard on who has the best Aussie accent. Currently George is winning, but could you give us your best accents so we can make a proper ruling (since Jayden keeps dodging the question in streams /lh) Bonus points if you recite a dbd line :]"

Edit: @pipwasreal kindly provided an Australian-to-standard transcription under the cut:

Transcript under the read more...

Jayden: This is another request in from Straydenation, from ethii. Thank you so, so much for another request. We are absolutely mindblown at the fact that you would do one, let alone however many you've done. So, let's get into it. "Instructions: If the Agency were to encounter a supernatural creature inspired by Australia/New Zealand what would you want it to be based off?"

George: Ohh love that question... [puts on an Australian accent] I reckon it would be a kangaroo. And then he [points to Jayden] would get his boxing skills out.

Jayden: That's actually so good! [laughs]

George: That'd be good, wouldn't it?

Jayden: Yeah yeah yeah!

George: And then I'd hide in your pouch and there'd be someone hiding in his pouch... [? Speech unclear]

[Both laugh]

Jayden: Ooh the backpack is basically the pouch anyway...

George: True!

Jayden: Wow, maybe Charles' spirit animal is a bloody kangaroo.

Both, in an Australian accent: Bloody kangaroo!

Jayden: Umm...

George, in an Australian accent: Come bounding over!

[Both laugh]

Jayden: I'm tryna think of other Australian things...

George, in an Australian accent: Koala?

Jayden: Yeah, maybe a koala bear.

George: Or a croc?

Jayden: Ohh a crocodile would be good. I was gonna say snake or a spider, but we've already seen that and, to be honest, I'd rather not see those again.

George: Maybe... I mean, maybe Australia and New Zealand, [puts on an Australian accent] Down Under, [returns to usual voice] has just generally informed already a lot of the creatures that you've seen.

Jayden: There you go. Umm...

George: But...

Jayden: Oh?

George: We dealt with the spider, we dealt with that snake.

Jayden: Yes we did. That snake got its head chopped

Both, in a Scottish accent: off!

Jayden: "Also, what Aussie food would you most like to try? Our top recommendations are Tim Tams, Milo and fairy bread. For non-sweets, Vegemite, of course, and kangaroo steak are top notch."

George: Oh wow...

Jayden: Well, we were watching I'm A Celeb, um last night or the night before, I can't remember which one, and they actually got like crocodile tail, and they put it into like fillets and, I'm not gonna lie, it actually looked quite good.

George: Really good, yeah it did look really good. I've always wanted to try Vegemite, umm cause I'm a lover of Marmite. [Points to Jayden] He's a hater. Um but, so yeah that would be my pick.

Jayden: It's weird, I like Twiglets but don't like Marmite.

George: Love Twiglets. "Straydenation also keeps a leader board of who has the best Aussie accent. Currently, George is winning [laughs] but could you give us your best accents so we can make a proper ruling, since Jayden keeps dodging the questions in streams?"

[Both laugh]

George: "Bonus points if you recite a DBD line."

Jayden, in an Australian accent: Charles, have you gone fucking mental?

[Both laugh]

Jayden: Sorry!

George, in an Australian accent: Is it your left or my left? We have the same left!

[Both laugh]

Jayden, in an Australian accent: Left!

George, in an Australian accent: Leeeft! [Sings] Leeeft! Or right?

Jayden: I can't think of any more. Bye guys!

George: Bye.

[bitterrobin]

Things I hate/dislike about Fanon-Damian Wayne

AKA me just bitching about the various icks of Damian portrayals in fanon that range from weirdly racist things to a blatant misunderstanding of the core character.

Whitewashing - not only in art, but in descriptions; making Damian pale or white, an "exact copy of Bruce" and having blue eyes. He'll share features with Bruce of course, but it's rare I see anyone describe him with traits from Talia or Ras or Melisande. Y'know he's still half Arab/Chinese despite Bruce being white. He should have, at the very least, a shade of brown skin and non-blue eyes.

Describing Damian like an animal (hissing, biting, clawing), calling him feral or rabid - I already have a post about how its pretty racist to constantly describe a poc character like this, so I won't go any further here. Also, rabid, really? Anyone who calls Damian that will die by my hand because it's so genuinely ignorant that I just can't excuse it.

Overuse of terms like "Blood Son", gremlin, "Demon Spawn", "Satan" - these spawned completely in fandom and its gotten to the point that I will immediately click off something if its included. Just stop using these as shorthand to describe him or joke about him. Come up with something else, or maybe just don't include Damian in a fic if he's only there to get made fun of.

Connected to the "Blood Son" term, making Damian obsessed with his biological status as Bruce's child and making him demean his adopted siblings/other adopted characters - he's only had a couple instances of this in canon comics. Once, in his introduction in the fight with Tim written by Grant Morrison when his character was still being fleshed out. Again, in a fight with Tim in Red Robin when Damian is mostly being written as an antagonist and not a character of his own. It frustrates me to no end when this is brought up because Damian's status with being Bruce's son has nothing to do with biological connection or genetics. It has everything to do with just being a son of a father that doesn't put any effort to knowing you and seeing him have deep connections to other kids that you have been raised to see as competition, not family.

Constantly having him carry around a sword/katana - this does happen in some comics, but its really not the main weapon he uses as Robin. A good majority of his time as Robin he just used the standard stuff (batarangs, grapple etc). The really aggravating part is when fics insinuate that he'd carry one around in public or in school.

Making Bruce's half of the family his good white saviors, while also making the al Ghuls evil abusers - if you demonize Talia and then prop up Bruce as a good dad who's done nothing wrong to Damian then I'm going to assume that you don't read comics and you don't have a good understanding of Damian's relationship with his parents. If you make Dick or Jason the good protective big brothers while putting down Talia or Ras or Mara, again, I'm going to assume the worst. Dick did not like Damian when they first met. Tim spent most of their time together as Red Robin/Robin hating him. Jason shot Damian point blank in the chest the first meeting they had, and then continued to threaten his life. Damian has never had a great relationship with anyone in the batfamily when he first appeared. Yes, not even Stephanie or Cassandra or Duke. With everyone, it took time for him to be tolerated much less liked or understood. Making them the ones who understood him and babied him from the start ruins his character development and his relationships with them. Only if you're writing an au where Damian is raised by Bruce, then it's excusable but still not the least bit right when handling the al Ghuls.

Making Damian ignorant or plain stupid, especially when comes to white American concepts - Damian is insanely smart. He knows what riddles are. He knows what metaphors are. He knows that Gotham is a city in New Jersey in America, and that American concepts like school clubs and sports teams and cliques and dances exist. Sometimes it sounds you're making Damian intentionally an idiot when you imply he doesn't know what a video game or a tv show is. Just because he grew up sheltered does not mean he's fucking blind. He's a kid who grew up Middle Eastern, not in another planet.

nitpick but Damian calling Bruce "baba" at every turn or throwing in "habibi" when you write ship content - I am not Arabic, but i'd feel the same kind of annoyance if someone wrote Damian calling Bruce "papa" or "padre" all the time, or randomly listing off Spanish endearments in ship fics. In moderation, it can be cute and appreciative. But sometimes it reads like you just discovered a new funny word and you're throwing it around for no reason.

Insisting that Damian should have learned morality or been punished severely by any of the bats when he first showed up - I must stress that none of them did jack shit to teach Damian any kind of morality when he appeared. Bruce met him, yelled at him, fucked off for a mission, came back and then promptly left him behind with Talia before they were presumed dead by explosion. Then Bruce straight up died. Bruce had very little to do with Damian in the early era. Dick, also, didn't really do anything in terms of actually sitting Damian down and explaining the Bat code or just general "killing=bad". He taught Damian to be Robin, and by that process, gradually got through to him about being a hero and a good person. You cannot expect good behavior from a child from the get-go if you've done nothing to teach that child. On that matter then, implying that Damian should have been kicked out of the house or beaten up on behalf of Tim as a form of punishment or a "teaching moment" is genuinely insane. You're going to abuse the already abused ten year old because he hurt your favorite character? Really? You're truly the pinnacle of an adult figure that he should respect /s.

Being annoying about Damian's attitude towards other characters - he's sarcastic and rude on purpose. It's pretty clear from the start to Damian that no one likes him, so he chooses to not like them back. If you cry about him calling Tim names, then I honestly think you don't have a high opinion of Tim at all if you think a seventeen/eighteen year old teenager would be hurt or psychologically scarred by a ten year old calling him a mean name.

Exaggerating Damian's violence and making people terrified of him - calling his fights with Tim "attempted murder" both undermines what murder actually is and undermines Tim's skill levels. The cutting the line incident for example. Obviously the action of cutting it was dangerous, but if you genuinely believe that Tim would have died from it or that he would regard it with any PTSD-level importance is (imo) kind of stupid. We always hear about the actions Damian takes around other characters, but never the canon reaction. In the 2009-2011 era, Tim was angry and annoyed about Damian. Whenever Damian did anything to him, he fought back. He would shoot back remarks, land a blow. Tim wasn't scared of Damian. They didn't even live together long enough for Tim to feel "unsafe in his own home." The second Damian became Robin, Tim left. They never lived in the same house since then, until the reboot, and even then Tim has been pretty independent and Damian has been away from Gotham more often than in it. Same deal applies to Dick and Steph and Jason and Cass, they never took Damian's actions lying down. He's just a mild annoyance to them. In fact, Damian doesn't attack them in their sleep. He doesn't try to kill them every chance he gets. He doesn't plot their demise. Every instance of Damian fighting someone in the family has either been; protective impulse, a reaction to a fight they instigated, or a sparring-type situation where neither of them are taking things seriously.

[everythingisawayoflife]

kind of going back to a post i made earlier but assuming bruce is the same in justice league as he is in the new batman adventures (i think he is? but im just going off of how his non-masked character design didn’t really change) but i’d like to think bruce sang tim to sleep. or just sang to him in general. like in the rare moments he gets to relax, he puts on like an old frank sinatra record cause i definitely peg bruce (i could just end the sentence there but i wont) for a jazz standards, great american songbook, tin pan alley, old musical theatre standards, etc. kind of guy. “am i blue” might be his favorite but he also enjoys “the riddle song”, which i recommend the sam cooke version (the song choices here are basically me just projecting, bruce is just like me fr), “moon river”, etc. this is the stuff you’re gonna hear while bruce is reading with a nice cup of coffee, on a rainy day and he even sends sheet music of his favorite arrangements to the musicians he hires for galas. it brings him peace cause this is the kind of music his father showed him so he’s passing it down to tim, like a family heirloom of sorts. bruce is very musically talented, he was definitely a rich kid who took piano lessons and while he’s not the next beethoven, he can play a pretty sweet rendition of “dream a little dream of me”. tim will just sit at the piano and stare and bruce will sit beside him and start playing and he puts tim’s hands on his and oh god give me a sec i’ll start crying. and the thing is bruce is always making music. he has a lovely, melodic, and deep voice and humming is second nature, as well as whistling. sometimes tim asks bruce to sing him to sleep and sometimes bruce is already singing as he puts tim to bed and will finish his song as the boy’s eyes are fluttering shut.

i just got really emo about timmy todd’s relationship w/ bruce in TNBA, they are SOOOO father and son and my favorite iteration of the characters (comic purists are rolling over in their graves but idc). i love scenes when bruce is so father to tim like in “cold comfort” when freeze threatens to kill tim, the surrogate son, as a way of harming bruce and the fear in tim’s eyes is that of a scared kid and he’s not even in robin mode. he’s just scared out of his mind. or scenes when he’s doing homework in the manor living room. or even the very small sentence in the comics where bruce says “tim’s asleep in the east wing” which to me implies bruce puts tim to bed himself.

if i could have eight more seasons of TNBA and at least 150 more issues of the comic series within that universe, i’d be a happy, happy, woman.

okay this was word vomit and made no sense but this is what im contributing for the day.

[chrysothronos]

it’s kind of a shock to me dal/pony’s never been a big ship in the fandom (tho rn i can understand why ppl are not quick to ship charas who frequently refer to e/o as brothers — musical) when they’re both well-defined as indiv charas and share lots of moments together on paper and on screen (many of which worth mulling over) and can fit into the tropes many ppl clearly enjoy in their ships! (for instance making pony love drawing curly or steve…)

there are a couple of things that prevents it from being a big ship:

a lot of people are young, it's their first fandom, and they get scared off by the age gap. when you're older or at least have more fandom experience, it's not as big of a deal. a lot of younger people currently treat it like it's like a ten year old and a twenty-five year old which is just not correct. and a lot of newer people are really puritan brained in a way that is a bit disturbing. there was a little bit of dalpony on ff.net but ff.net is very hard to navigate and almost all of those fics were varying levels of ooc. (and i ate it up anyway)

i want to be nice but there's really no nice way to put it: a lot of jally shippers are extremely possessive over their ship and over dallas. jally is treated as the de facto ship of the fandom and dalpony isn't like tim/dallas or johnny/pony — pony is instantly pegged as direct competition to johnny and it makes a lot of jally people angry. i think what makes them angriest is that it de-centers johnny from dallas' narrative in their eyes and it subverts the line they always cite from the novel that is very jally. they tend to act very entitled over jally being the "default" ship and a lot of them get loud and aggressive over the existence of dalpony in general so that's stopped a lot of people. (there's also the fact that a lot of jally fans are johnny fans more than they are dallas fans so a lot of them perceive dallas as a prize for johnny rather than his own separate human being)

a lot of people in fandom, again bc it's first fandom and there's a young skewage, can't write in character for shit to be blunt. so a lot of ships where it involves a developed character shipped with an undeveloped or totally non-present character appeals to them cause they can just self insert or because they can just write whatever and not be held up to the same standards. you can do almost anything with curly and not have to check back to canon at all about him cause curly doesn't ever appear until that was then, this is now and he's not significant. most of purly is "dalpony with training wheels" for me with how it's written and more than one dalpony person has said to me they used to be into purly and switched or became a multishipper.

the musical and the proliferation of "they're brothers! you can't ship them!" that's going through fandom right now is stifling a lot of shipping. i've seen the musical via a bootleg, it's the most out of character version of canon and it's the most de-queered version of canon to come up. people, as a consequence, are buying hard into "platonic only!" versions of canon to the point that there wasn't even a surge of jally after the musical. if jally can't even make it, dalpony won't. (and they had a nugget of dalpony in there)

some other things is that people tend to move on from this fandom within months of each other or they're here for a long time but stick into one lane or there's lots of breaks between. so there's not a whole lot of consistency in presence, either. i think i'm the only dalpony who's been here the longest with the most influence (i hate dallyboy as a name so i picked dalpony and here we are using it!) and the most fanworks vs. people who've simply drifted away, been bullied out of shipping it (happens often, unfortunately, even though i try to support as many people as i can while maintaining boundaries), or go to other pastures. (though i will say some major shipfics haven't been going on as long or consistently as say fits even for other ships. i think the last major jally fic that was completed was 2019.)

[mossfrg]

Lost Talon au 3/?

Imagine Jason’s reaction to Dick being brought back. Like, Jason was the Robin right after Dick died— he had the biggest shoes to fill, coming immediately after the original. He was constantly trying to live up to the standards Dick unknowingly set. After he nearly died by the Joker’s hand and made his own identity, Jason felt more comfortable with himself and out to bed his worries.

But then Dick comes back, and he comes back wrong.

Jason had always privately hoped that one day this older brother would appear and take the reigns for him. The he would get to meet The Dick Grayson, have that man as an older brother.

Instead, Jason is still the oldest, and now has to deal with a half-brainwashed (non-consensually!!) genetically modified 18-year-old almost assassin who’s 12ish years out of place. What the fuck. He did not sign up for this.

Tim feels much the same way. He’s older than Dick, and that’s not something that should’ve ever happened. Tim remembers seeing Dick at galas, remembers his warm tanned skin and bright blue eyes when he’d smile. Remembers being taught how to do a flip and a cartwheel by a boy who claimed to fly from chandeliers. Remembers a kind older boy sneaking him into the gardens when things got too loud and he was so young and couldn’t handle the way his parents looked at him but this older boy was giving him the time of day-

And now that boy is younger than him. Blue eyes replaced by cold, unflinching gold. Skin still tan, but paler with a gray tint to it; black veins crawl up his throat and down his arms. He’s cold to the touch. He’s still kind, but much more hesitant in showing that softness; more likely to flash his claws than return a gentle hug. And that’s not to mention the wings, over 20ft of feathers and muscle tucked between his shoulders (he still perches on chandeliers though).

Damian had never met the First Son his Father had taken in. He’s heard countless stories of the brave, kind, caring, innocent child who creates the Robin mantle. Who didn’t kill, who made jokes, who was kind and sweet and friendly. Damian, unlike the other two, didn’t worry about living up to Grayson, but to living up to the innocent he brought. How could Damian ever be a good Robin when his hands were stained with blood?

But then Grayson, Richard, had been found. And he had blood on his hands. Less so than Damian himself, of course, and less than even Todd or Drake. But still. It was blood. And he’d gone under much the same training Damian himself had. The First Robin, trained and bloodied like Damian. Who took one look at Damian wearing his family’s name and colors and beamed for the first time since they’d brought him home, wings extending to wrap around him as he cooed, who’d heard that Todd and Drake had also shared the mantle and dragged them into the hug too, proclaiming them family and his flock, “or colony if you really want to stick with the bat theme, B, but I think it’s telling that 4/4 of your sidekicks went with a bird theme, maybe you should think of being Birdman-“

Richard Grayson, who despite everything, still managed to be himself after 12 years. Damian thinks it gives him a little hope and privately, thinks that if Richard can be so good after what he’s been through, there’s a chance Damian can be good too. Not that he’s ever say that aloud; he’s the Blood Son after all, even if Richard was the First Son.

[ditzyredrobin]

Fix It (Fix You)

I have idea for another fic where Tim was never Robin. Who is/was Tim? That remains to be seen. How does he know Jason and Dick and how do they get together? I also don’t know. But we’re getting there. 😂

-

Jason grabs him by the chin, roughly tilting his head up to meet his gaze. A soft and embarrassingly undignified noise escaped his lips. “Why didn’t you say something? You were all chatty over the comms just an hour, so enlighten me. How, in all that time, did you fail to mention you had, oh, I don’t know, been stabbed?”

“It wasn’t that bad, I was handling it.”

Jason scoffs and looks to Dick who just looks downright disappointed. It was a pained look like someone had just kicked Haley. “Get a load’a that shit, Dickie, the guy says he was handling it. Is that really what you call bleeding out all over the damn sofa?”

“It’s not that much blood.” Tim barks back because this? Was just over dramatic, even by Jason’s standards. “I staunched the blood flow before I reached the bleeding out stage. I’m okay, really, and seriously, it’s not that much blood.”He thinks that much was worth repeating.

Maybe he’d gotten a little bit of blood on the couch? It was faux leather, a little warm water and a non abrasive rag should get it out.

Dick finally sighs and moves to stand beside Jason. He cards his fingers through Jay’s helmet hair, attempting to tame the natural curls; whether it was an attempt to calm down Jason, or himself, he wasn’t sure. “He’s right, Tim. We talked about this. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, or to us. It’s not fair to any part involved. We’re a team, remember? It’s not just you anymore.”

Tim rolled his eyes. Hard. “What do you think I’m doing? I was being a team player. You both were busy and I had it handled. If I told you, you would have freaked out and come home in the middle of the stakeout. You’ve been working that case for weeks.” Or worse, he would have distracted them, and they would have gotten hurt. “I was stable enough to tell you when there was time.”

It didn’t make sense. He was just trying to help—why didn’t the understand? They would have done the same thing if they were in his shoes. He was stable. With a Bat grade wound dressing he was just stellar.

“But there were options, Tim. You coulda called Alfie or-“

“I had it handled.” Tim repeats, cutting Jason off succinctly, because seriously. He had it. What part of it was being handled did they not understand?

By the look on Jason’s face, he couldn’t tell if Jason wanted to punch him, yell at him, or swaddle him into submission—knowing Jay, it was probably a combination of the bunch—and Dick… Dick look like he wanted to cry, clear blue eyes glassy, and crinkled in the corner like he was in physical pain.

“Timmy,” Dick’s voice is soft and soothing, and Tim flinches. He knows that tone. It’s what comes right before the “it’s not you, it’s me” conversation, or just before the torture goes from bad to worse. “We’re not trying to attack you. You’re not in trouble-“

“Speak for yourself.” Jay muttered earning a dirty look from Dick. Jason holds his gaze for a long moment before throwing up his hands. “Fine, whatever. Sorry for interrupting.”

Dick looks back at Tim, kneeling down beside him on the hardwood floor. He had removed his gauntlets and gloves at some point, Tim didn’t know when, and brushed Jason aside. His hands are warm and calloused, reaching out to cup his cheek. “You’re not in trouble,” he repeats and Jason grits his teeth. “We are worried about you. What if you hadn’t gotten the bleeding under control and we came home to you unconscious?” The or worse doesn’t need to be said. “How do you feel when you’re not given vital information on a case? When someone purposefully leaves you out of the loop.”

“I didn’t-“ Dick cuts him off.

“It feels bad, right?”

Tim wants to roll his eyes, but closes them instead, taking a breath, holding it for ten, and releasing it before answering. “I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark. It just seemed like the most logical solution at the time. I’ve handled worse on my own and I just…I wasn’t thinking.”

The dating game was new. Of course he’s dated both civilians and vigilantes alike but he was always holding back, intentionally or not. Letting someone in at your lowest, asking for help, hadn’t exactly been encouraged (or really discouraged either but that was neither here nor there) until you were suddenly in a relationship with two of Gotham’s hottest vigilantes.

“I know it’s hard but it gets easier. Jay and I are here to work with you, not against you, okay?”

Speaking of Jay, he let out a large puff of air, letting his shoulders go lax. “I didn’t mean to get pissy with you, I just want to know my boys are safe, you feel me? We had enough evidence to bring the law down on their asses hard.” There is still an anger behind his eyes but he’s reigned in the growing green. “You’re worth more than a single op.”

Tim froze his heart skittering to a stop in his chest. “I’m…what?” Because he definitely didn’t hear that right.

Dick frowned, repeating, “You’re important.” The words say heavy on Tim’s mind. “You’re important to me, to Jason, to the rest of the family. If you’re hurt, we want to you. Your well-being is more important than the op.”

No, he did hear them right and he was pissed.

“I’m not—no.” Tim snaps, trying to push himself to sitting up. How could they say that? How could they think that? His life over the millions of Gothamites?“Absolutely not. That’s not—no. Wrong. You. Are. Wrong. Both of you.”

Or, well, attempted to say because when he sat up, the world seemed to drop out from under him. His vision rippled in a technicolor haze before slumping back into waiting arms. Blood-loss, right.

It takes a minute for his hearing to come back to him and when it does, Jason was swearing up at storm. One set of hands pins him to the cushions and the other is carefully examining the stab wound, the dressing now peeled up.

“Enough of this self-sacrificing bullshit and just stay down, damnit.” Jason hisses, eying the wound. “You’re fucking lucky they were an amateur and missed anything vital.”

For as angry as he sounded, his hands were incredibly gentle, running his thumb soothingly across his skin. Back and forth and back and forth while Dick poked and prodded and disinfected. It was a foreign feeling, the sharp pain from before, now a distant thing.

Sometime in the haze, their vigilante grade tackle box of a first aid kit had found its out from under the sink and onto the coffee table. A fresh suture kit and laid out.

“Jay,” Dick gently chides. “We can—we’ll fix this. I promise, we’ll fix this.” The last part felt more directed at himself than Jason.

Jason grunted unhappily but continued to hold their significant other.

“‘m sorry,” Tim finally managed as Dick began stitching the skin back together. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to protect you.”

Jason grumbled again but pressed a kiss to his forehead and repeated Dick’s words from before, “We’ll fix this, Baby Bird, Dickie and I’ll fix it.”

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[confused-wanderer]

Do you-

Do you guys think that when Damian’s been introduced and he starts realising he wants to change but doesn’t know how or whom to ask for help he always ends up with Jason?

Like- Jason went through something. VERY different, but the same feeling of wariness, trust issues and murderous mentors (League of assassins) is something that they have in common. Damian may have already known about Jason after he came back from death and Talia suggested asking him for advice.

He sees Jason isn’t too open to affection. He bats away Grayson’s arm, threatens to kill anyone if they piss him off, swears and scolds Bruce and isn’t all “lovey dovey” or abiding by rules as the first Robin.

But they all still love him.

Bruce still looks out for him, smothers him with affection and safety, even though Jason tells him he’ll be fine. Bruce is trying to gain Jason’s favour and apologise to him, something Damian can’t even believe he’s witnessing. Dick still sees him and talks to him with such warmth in his voice it makes Damian shudder, and Tim also has begrudging fondness sometimes when he thinks Jason isn’t looking.

Why do they all accept him? Why aren’t they throwing him out for falling from their standards? He was not worthy of Robin, he’s massacred people as Red Hood. Yet all of them still stand by him.

It pisses off Damian to no end.

But somewhere along the lines.. he started craving that feeling too. The feeling of being warm, of having someone care for you.

So he seeks him out. And since he’s Bruce’a son, he can’t really communicate well either which makes it fucking hilarious.

Damian:

Jason who just got out of a hot shower: .. how the fuck are you in Paris-

Damian *in his mind* : How did you change? How did you learn to accept help? Why are the rules different for tou? Why is everyone okay with you killing? Why do they still love you despite your mistakes? How can I become worthy?

Damian: Why do people put up with you Todd?

And it’s also funnier when he does this to EVERY other family member without Bruce or Dicks knowledge, and they’re all panicking wondering why he’s suddenly being so ominous.

Jason: - And then the fucker asked me why people put up with me

Stephanie: Dude I was making coffee at 3 am and he demanded to know what I had done that made me feel worthy of being part of the family?

Tim: .. He requested my assistance in helping him understand why I decided to become Robin.

Stephanie: .. well that doesn’t seem so bad-

Tim: While the shithead sipped my last coffee. At my desk. Typing “Is The New Robin Better? On my computer.

Jason: .. he’s gonna try and murder us isn’t he?

Alfred knows what’s happening. He always has, always will. But he barely managed one non-expresssant somehow horrible-at-communication and expert at miscommunication child. It was their turn.

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

They spend a lot longer than Tim actually expects Kon to want to spend on that “couple things”, since obviously they can’t start with the exciting stuff and he just assumes Kon will get bored in about thirty seconds’ worth of Tim Drake’s awkward and over-detailed explanations of every little thing and also will experience immediate regret about admitting that he both doesn’t know how to do something and isn’t going to be immediately good at said something. Any time Kon’s not immediately good at something they’re doing in training he gets mad or pissy or at least frustrated and acts like a total asshole about it, but right now . . . 

Kon falls off the board and lands on his ass for the third time and for the third time just grins up at him sheepishly, and Tim feels very weird and not-normal and sort of just–smitten about it, really. 

“This is way different from surfing,” Kon says with a laugh, shaking his head, which is a little surprising to hear for some reason. If nothing else, Tim would’ve expected Kon to get even more frustrated, if he was assuming any apparent surfing experience might’ve helped him out here. He has heard it usually does, so maybe Kon’s just out of practice or his own standards are just, uh–a little too Bat, maybe. 

“Is it?” he asks, offering Kon a hand up again. Kon did it for him earlier, and anyway, it kinda makes him feel like carrying the other’s bags for him and being trusted with his weight feels. And Kon takes his hand, just like the last two times, and lets him help him up like there’s literally any reason he needs to bother to. “I’ve never tried surfing.” 

“It’s wicked,” Kon says, grinning at him again and giving his hands a quick squeeze before heading over to retrieve the board from where it skidded when he fell. He does not fall like a Bat, but he definitely does know how to. He’s just also clearly expecting his falls to be more of a “terminal velocity” situation than a “tripping off a skateboard” situation. Which, like–fair, yeah. “You gotta use your arms way more, though, and like, it just feels way more like you’re riding something, you know? Concrete just kinda sits there and there’s way less wind to worry about.” 

“Oh, yeah, I never really thought about the wind,” Tim says. Waves, definitely, but he didn’t follow the thought to its logical conclusion. “Pretty sure people based skateboarding on surfing to start, though, so is it really that different? Like, mechanically?” 

“I dunno,” Kon says with a shrug, tucking the board under his arm and trotting back over to him. “I mean, kinda? But also wheels are way harder to feel the ground through ‘cuz they’re spinning the whole time, so sometimes I get dizzy if I hold onto ‘em too much. And like, water moves a lot more than concrete, but the board’s totally flat against it, so like–easier to feel it, I guess? Just feels, like, more intense, kinda.” 

“. . . that’s really interesting, but are you seriously trying to use your TTK when you skate?” Tim asks, trying not to laugh at the idea even though he definitely should’ve expected it. “You’re such a cheater.” 

“Hey, I use TTK when I everything, thanks, and it’s not cheating!” Kon protests with another laugh, which is definitely not the way Superboy would’ve responded to Robin saying something like that. “You’re not cheating when you use your friggin’ ears and eyes, are you?” 

“Oh, blind skateboarding, that sounds terrifying,” Tim muses, and Kon laughs again. 

“I’d die! You’d die!” he says, sounding incredibly delighted about the prospect. 

“So I’m hearing we start with the low ramps, then,” Tim replies reasonably. 

“Oh my god, Tim,” Kon cackles, and then ducks in close to throw his free arm around his neck and kiss him again, his TTK wrapping around him for just a quick flash of pressure of its own. 

Tim feels–very weird, again. 

Specifically, he feels very weird hearing Kon’s voice saying his real name, especially right before kissing him. Kissing him, and also wrapping him up completely in the power he just identified as being as important and natural to him as his hearing and vision and, presumably, any other senses are. 

And again, Kon is clearly really, really tactile, so that’s hard not to be weird about too. 

Kon leans back, back to grinning at him, and Tim feels vaguely mortified and vaguely like eating him alive and also like this date has gone absolutely nothing like he planned, despite his best efforts. Kon brought him a present and he hasn’t bought Kon anything but an amount of grilled cheese sandwiches that can only be described as “inadvisable” and has in fact spent way more money on himself than he has on Kon, plus they’ve spent basically the whole date so far doing things he likes, not– 

“Um, just in case like a building collapses or a supervillain happens or whatever and I gotta run off early, um . . . thanks. For tonight, I mean,” Kon says, the grin he’s barely dropped briefly slipping into something a little shyer, and Tim stares blankly at him for a moment and feels like an insane person, or at least like he maybe just hallucinated that. “I’m really having fun.” 

Tim needs to check on the possibility of hallucinations, yeah. 

“You are?” he asks, fully bewildered by the idea, and Kon laughs again. 

“Obviously, you frickin’ nerd!” he says, then gives him a quick, sheepish smile and another peck on the cheek before turning that almost-inhuman shade of red again and pulling back, putting the board in front of himself and between them. Tim gently simmers to a boil and breaks down into a broth as every single ounce of meat in his body falls right off the bone. “I always have fun with you.” 

. . . Tim is maybe less a broth and now more, like, a stew that somebody left in the crockpot all day, or however Mrs. Mac used to do it. 

“Oh,” he says, desperately trying to remember how to string a functional sentence together that does not sound like a dropped typewriter. “Uh–good! Good. Um–I’m glad. Good. Me, uh–me too.” 

Kon blushes even darker and grins at him again, rocking back on his heels for a moment. 

“Cool,” he says. “Um–thanks, Tim. Again. Some more. I dunno.” 

Tim, again, feels very weird about hearing Kon say his real name, and some part of him kind of thinks, in an odd and distant way–did he just, like . . . forget how to just . . . not be Robin? Like–how to turn it off, and just feel the actually genuine things as Tim Drake, and not just the mask or the sidekick or the namesake? 

Well, that can’t be good. 

Kon keeps grinning at him, half-shadowed in the Gotham night and half-lit by electric Gotham streetlights and looking nothing like anything else Tim’s ever seen in Gotham, and Tim is definitely going to need to pencil in a couple hours on Sunday night to be an incoherent mess about him and also maybe, like . . . process some things, maybe. Think some stuff through. Adjust some– 

“So like, wanna go make out for a while in the full pipe?” Kon suggests hopefully, tipping his head towards it, and Tim forgets literally every single layer of other thoughts he was having. They are literally no longer relevant to anything and he does not care about a single one of them. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, maybe a little too red himself now, and Kon grins. 

The full pipe helpfully informs them both that Tim can, in fact, give Kon a hickey if the other lets him, and helpfully informs Tim that he is never, ever going to be able to be in the same tri-state area as a mind-reader again. 

Well, he should probably be avoiding those for the next fifteen years anyway, so whatever.

[stereax]

☕️ things you think the nhl genuinely does well for their players? And/or things you wish could/would change in the org?

I think, to start, you need to overhaul how player safety works. The lack of consequences for players is nuts. Repeat offenders need to be penalized appropriately. You can't let dangerous players like Matt Rempe continue to be the poster children for CTE.

Player assistance - I'm not sure how effective this is. We've had players like Valeri Nichushkin fail it; we've had former players like Scott Darling deride it. We've also had players like Spencer Knight and Connor Ingram who've cited the help they get from it as crucial to their mental health.

THE MEDICAL STAFF. Oh my god the medical teams are AWFUL in the NHL. I know it's the standard to play through injuries but holy fuck. On the Devils alone we had three cases of medical staff failing to spot a concussion or other major injury after a head hit and letting players continue to play for several more shifts before pulling them. You hear actual horror stories annually of players saying "oh, I messed up my shoulder in game 4 and played with it the entire season" (Tim Stutzle) or "oh, my knee's been fucked since January, sorry for not putting up more points" (Elias Pettersson) or "oh, I played a playoff game with a broken sternum and I couldn't even dress myself, so if I got hit there, there's a chance I could have died" (Matthew Tkachuk). We're seeing that players who prioritize their health, who sit out to recover instead of pushing their bodies (think Sidney Crosby here) are able to continue playing at a high level past 35, when previously this was considered too old to be a top talent NHL player.

Tying into that, LTIR. Teams need to be incentivized to use LTIR so that their stars can heal, goddamn it. You tell me "close the cap circumvention loopholes", I reply "I'd prefer if players are playing healthy and not forced to play while hurt, and LTIR is a major step in allowing players to heal without penalizing a team for their injuries". I don't know why it's a buzz topic now that teams like Vegas are "abusing LTIR" - good??? Every team in the league should "abuse LTIR" if it means helping to preserve the quality of life for its players down the line??? Why is this controversial???

But also - players who are definitely not coming back to play in the NHL (think Shea Weber, Carey Price, Nicklas Backstrom) should have the ability to retire without losing out on the final years of their contract while not penalizing the teams with them on their roster. Currently, these players undergo "LTIRetirement", a process where they're stashed on the LTIR until their contract is up, at which point they officially retire. This not only disadvantages the teams carrying these contracts but also puts unnecessary burdens on these players. Think how the 2018 WJC perpetrators were considered "NHL non-roster", effectively having no cap hit, and do something similar for LTIRetirement.

Just... eugh, I really wish some fundamentals about hockey culture and the culture of injury were changed. Every time I hear about how a player is trying to regain day-to-day functioning after an injury (go read up on Tanner Pearson's hand injuries and how the Canucks bungled the surgeries), part of me dies inside. Jack Eichel literally had to force his own trade out of his team because the Sabres weren't willing to give him medical autonomy. Which is another thing - the player should ALWAYS have final say in their injury treatment, not the teams. Whoever decided that... I'm shaking my fist.

[purgatory-is-life]

Mechtober Day 14/prompt 14-Alternate Universe

if i need to single handedly populate this fandom with urban fantasy aus by the gods i will

@mechtober-2024

An Average Day 'Round Here, Really - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw, my poor attempts at using british vernacular with my very limited knowledge of it as an american, cursing, arguing (mostly jokingly), mentioned alcohol, implied alcohol consumption, blood, blood consumption, non-con blood drinking, minor unnamed character death, probably more, feel free to ask me to tag something!!

Brian woke with a groan, and something heavy on top of him. He cracked an eye open, glaring at whichever one of his flatmates it was that decided to wake him up this time. It turned out to be Raphaella. He glanced at his clock–eleven AM. Too early, by his standards, but he did have some classes that day, so he would’ve had to get up at some point.

“What do you want, Raph?” He asked, voice thick with sleep.

“Do you have the chem notes from Friday?” she asked, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. His still freshly-woken up and foggy mind thought she looked a lot like a bird, like one of those falcon’s Tim’s constantly sending pictures of.

Brian stared back at her. “Raph. You couldn’t wait for two hours for me to wake up with my alarm to ask that?”

“My chem lab is at noon!” She defended. “And you almost never get up before noon.” She poked him on the nose. “It was much easier to wake you up, insomniac. You need to work on your sleep schedule.”

“I at least get a consistent amount of sleep,” Brian grumbled, “how much have you slept recently?”

Raphaella quickly turned her head, waving her hand dismissively. “Not important! My chem lab is in an hour, do you have the notes or not?”

Brian curled up further under his sheets, humming quietly and closing his eyes again as if he’d be able to get any more sleep. “In the yellow notebook, on my desk. Hundredth page in.”

“Ah! Thank you, dearest,” Raph kissed his forehead and jumped off him, scurrying towards his desk.

“Mhm…”

Raphaella grabbed the notebook, and left the room. There was a brief moment where Brian could almost fool himself that he was asleep, before Raph came back into his room. “Do you… want me to turn your light on to help you wake up or…?”

Brian groaned, and pulled one of his pillows over his head. “Please let me at least try to get my last two hours of rest!”

“Okay, sorry!” And then Raphaella actually left him alone to get some more sleep.

—-- By the time his alarm went off, Brian had been playing a random game on his phone for at least an hour and a half. At some point in his attempts to get back to sleep, he’d given up and began playing on his phone. However, with his phone vibrating aggressively and playing one of Toy’s newer songs loudly, he couldn’t get away with hiding any longer, and he forced himself to get up.

He sat up, stretching his arms, back popping as he did so. He swung his legs, testing his knees. Finding they didn’t ache as much as usual, he decided to venture out into the living area of the apartment without his cane. As he entered the living room, it was just as he expected–chaotic. And loud, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t noticed before, while he was still hiding in his room.

Everyone in their friend group was there– while Brian, Marius and Raph were technically the only ones on the lease, it was admittedly more unusual if there weren’t at least six people in their flat at once. Typically, all nine of them were in at once, but Raph had a few labs on Monday’s and Nastya had one of her computer science classes in the afternoon on Mondays, so it was only the seven of them on Monday afternoons. Eight, if Marius convinced Lyfrassir to come around, or they’d stayed the night. Nine, at most and if they were lucky, and Bertie was visiting from his campus.

Currently, Jonny was laying on top of Ashes while rambling about something from his creative writing class, maybe something about his teacher who he hated. Apparently, he was kind of a jackass, but it was Jonny, and Jonny was prone to exaggeration, so he could’ve been fine. Toy and Marius were playing chopsticks while debating something in German, Ivy was reading a book while sitting upside down on the couch, and Gunpowder was cooking something.

Ashes was the first to notice his emergence, as he made a beeline for the coffee pot. “Morning, doll,” Ashes called, smirking. Brian rolled his eyes at them.

“It’s afternoon,” Brian pointed out, “that’s the point. I don’t like getting up early.”

“It’s still fun to bother you about,” Ashes said. He could hear the grin in their voice. Brian rolled his eyes again, and set about making his coffee, being careful to move around Tim while he-they?-continued cooking.

“Pronouns?” Brian asked, starting his cup.

“She/he, thanks,” Gunpowder smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “So you’re finally awake?”

“Oh, you can’t talk, Timopher,” Brian flicked the other on the head. She groaned at that.

“Not you too! I’m going to kill Jonny for getting you all started on that!”

Brian grinned, but didn’t say anything more. Tim pouted, but returned to his cookery. The smell of bacon hit Brian’s nose as something started sizzling on a pan, and his stomach growled at him. Gunpowder noticed, and tilted his head at him as Brian grabbed a mug from one of the cabinets. “D’you want some of this? I can make more, it’s just eggs, some toast, and bacon.”

Brian shook his head as he poured his cup of coffee. “No, thank you. I was planning on getting something on my way to my anatomy class.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing at him over his glasses. “Your anatomy class is at three. It’s almost one-fifteen. You have time to eat a proper breakfast.” Brian waved her off as he took a sip of his coffee. Tim wrinkled his nose. “Brian. One-coffee isn’t breakfast. Two-black coffee? Seriously?”

Brian shrugged. “It’s better than coffee ice cream for breakfast.”

Gunpowder rolled her eyes, pinching her nose. “It’s not- I’m not doing this. And besides, that was one time during finals last year. I don’t think any of us had a consistent amount of sleep or a consistent amount of food in our stomachs.”

“The woes of being a college student,” Brian said, taking another sip of his coffee and walking towards the adjoining living room.

“Yea- wait I’m not done lecturing you–!”

But Brian was already sitting down next to Ivy and ignoring her complaints. “Good afternoon, Brian. Did you sleep well?”

“Would’ve slept better if Raph didn’t wake me up, but mostly, yeah.”

Ivy nodded. “I apologize, I was the one to tell Raphaella to ask you for the notes. I forgot how much you dislike being woken up early.” She turned another page in her book.

“It’s fine, Ivy, I’ll just try and go to bed a bit early tonight.”

“I believe it’s a misnomer to say you sleep at night–you go to bed most often at four AM.”

Brian–couldn’t deny her there. “Is it comfortable, sitting upside down like that?” he asked instead.

“It is plenty comfortable for me. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Brian nodded, and took another sip of his coffee. The still-scalding liquid burned in his throat, and behind it a thirst he’d been doing his best to ignore burned as well. He’d have to do something about it soon–the… thirst? Hunger? He still wasn’t sure what to call it, nearly two years later–either way, he’d have to do something about it soon, it was getting hard to ignore.

Gunpowder came into the room with a plate of food, flopping onto the couch next to (almost on top of) Ashes. “Oh, by the way,” she started, “I’m going to be visiting Bertie over the next few days, I’m heading out a bit later, so I might not be able to make it to band practice on Thursday.”

“Have fun,” Jonny said, reaching over to Tim’s paper plate and taking some of the bacon for himself.

Tim swatted at Jonny’s hand, sticking his tongue out at the other. Jonny stuck his tongue out at her. Brian smiled at his friends' shenanigans–not quite dumbassery, but a very similar brand of chaos. Though, dumbassery usually ended with someone injured and an argument about whether or not a trip to A&E was necessary. And a kidnapping to take someone to A&E, but that was neither here nor there.

“Tell Bertie we say hello,” Ivy said, as Brian glanced over at Marius and Toy, who were still completely absorbed in their game and debate.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll know,” Tim shrugged as Jonny–successfully, this time–stole some of Gunpowder’s bacon.

Tim didn’t notice at first, but when she did, she immediately turned on Jonny. The other grinned, which only annoyed Tim more. Brian decided that was a good moment to down the rest of his scalding coffee, and get up to get dressed. “Do you think I can get away with not wearing my binder today without my chem lab supervisor misgendering me?”

Ivy glanced up from her book and raised an eyebrow at him.

“…Yeah, fair enough…” Brian sighed. He didn’t really care one way or the other about wearing his binder or how people perceived him, but sometimes it got tiring getting misgendered by people around him. Oh well, he wouldn’t have to wear it all day. Brian glanced back at Gunpowder and Jonny, and saw that Tim had completely ditched his breakfast, and was now wrestling with Jonny while Ashes took her bacon. All in all, a normal day, really.

—--

Brian hated the sun. Without a doubt, he hated the sun. It was hot, it was bright and hurt his eyes, and it made him tired. Really, besides it providing light for the rose bushes he’d been trying to grow out of his flat’s window box, he had no reason to like the sun. Except for the fact that most of his friends were awake when the sun was up, but most of his friends had absolutely god awful sleep schedules, and Brian was half certain Raphaella was more willing to do hard drugs than sleep when she could be ‘science-ing’. So, really, other than the roses needing sunlight to grow, he really didn’t have any reason to appreciate the sun. So, naturally, with such a hatred of the sun, he did his best to avoid it, but sometimes he was forced to face the burning ball of hydrogen gas and plasma.

The latest anatomy class he could get was at three, and thus he was forced to face the sun at least twice a week on Mondays and Thursdays (for his bio-chem class, which was at two-thirty) if he wanted to actually gain that pre-med he’d been working towards since Secondary. At the very least, with the weather changing and slipping more into the icy chill of fall and winter, the amount of time he’d have to face the sun was lessened. Which he was grateful for, even though the sun had long since begun to set as he made his way home from his last monday class (he also had a chem lab on mondays, but it was at a different time than Raphaella’s) at six in the evening.

When he returned to the flat, placing his bag by the door and tossing his jacket on the coat wrack. With a quick glance around the flat’s living room, he noted that everyone was there with the exception of Gunpowder. She must’ve already headed off to Bertie’s campus. Lyf was there, sitting on the couch braiding Raphaella’s hair while she braided Marius’s hair, and Marius scribbled something down while Nastya played her viola. Jonny and Ashes were cooking something, though he could hear Jonny saying he was gonna head out once the food was done. Toy was laying on the floor on top of Ivy, both of whom were reading different books. Toy was reading a book that appeared to be about different species of frogs, and Ivy seemed to be reading something about mice. Which did nothing to narrow down what she was reading.

Lyf glanced up from their work, briefly, and nodded at him as he entered. Brian smiled and waved, continuing his walk to his room.

“Brian!” Ashes called, peaking leaning on the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. “You gonna want any o’ this, doll?”

“Oh!” Brian hummed. “No, probably shouldn’t–I told Galahad I’d go out for drinks with him and some of his friends.”

“The Pendragons, again?” Ashes raised an eyebrow as Jonny pouted, turning to face him as well.

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. He glanced at Jonny and smirked at him. “What’s with the pout, dear?”

Jonny scoffed, face turning a bright red. “Fuck off! I put in all this work and you ain’t even gonna try any?”

Brian’s smirk softened. “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t realize you were making dinner for us tonight. Save some for me?”

Jonny huffed and nodded, turning back to his cooking and waving him off. Brian glanced into the pot, trying to decipher what it was that he and Ashes were cooking. It looked like some kind of stew. With that mystery kind-of solved, Brian headed to his bedroom to change into something a bit more bar-appropriate.

He did have somewhere to be, afterall. While the night was young.

—--

Brian, along with the sun, hated bars. Their smell was rancid, there were always too many people and they were always too close, Brian hated bars. More specifically, he hated getting hit on at bars. And yet, here he was, in a back alley behind a bar making out with some random drunk person. They were-probably a man? And definitely older than him, but Brian wasn’t picky with his snacks.

Though, in times like these, he found himself often missing his friends–“the Crew”, as Jonny sometimes called them.

Their relationship was… Well, it was something. He could probably write a philosophy thesis on it, actually. And it wouldn’t be fair to say they weren’t open, by no means were whatever-they-were a closed relationship. But maybe it wasn’t fair to say whatever they had was open, either? Since it wasn’t exactly defined in most areas.

Tim and Bertie were something, though Gunpowder refused to elaborate further. Tim and Jonny were dating(?)–that’s literally how they described it, too–Jonny was willing to have sex with most of them except Nastya (for obvious reasons. Ew), whereas Marius was usually the opposite, he’d take everyone out on dates and plan elaborate dinners or lunches or breakfasts or brunches, whatever meal it was, but sex was a very inconsistent desire for him. Brian was generally the same way, though a bit less… dramatic, about it. His planned dates were always much less extravagant than Marius’s. Nastya was exclusive with her long-distance girlfriend, but she and Brian kissed sometimes, and he knows that she and Ivy also do the same on occasion. Toy was odd, but it was always sweet and it was involved in the relationship chaos in all the ways that mattered, it deserved a place in this train of thought. It didn’t exactly feel romantic or sexual attraction, but had expressed that it loved the Crew all deeply and truly, and always tried to help and show its care in whatever ways it deemed to be effective.

Ashes had something with everyone, but it looked different depending who of the Crew they were with, Raph and Ivy were dating, Marius was starting to date Lyffrassir, which actually seemed to be going pretty well compared to previous romantic exploits outside the Crew of his, Marius, Ivy, and Raphaella were dating, and all of them were just… generally pretty touchy feel-y? It was always weird to see one of the Crew and not see at least two others nearby. And dating or being fuckbuddies with one of them generally meant having to share with the rest at least, and if not, being roped up a lot more tightly in their web of weirdness (as Lyf had once called it). Lyf was still new, but they seemed to get along with everyone pretty well, and had even made out with Brian on a few occasions, and he’d definitely seen them leaving Raph’s room with tousled clothes and hair in the early morning while he was still awake, shortly followed by Ivy or Raph–or both.

All that to say, there were about nine other people that Brian could be kissing that he’d much rather be snogging behind a dingy bar. The probably-a-man reached up and curled a lock of his hair around their finger. “You’ve got such pretty hair, doll,” they said, breaking the kiss.

The stench of whiskey was heavy on their breath–it was amazing they were coherent at all–and Brian was hit with two twin pangs of longing, one with an equal measure of anger. Only Ashes got to call him doll. Brian would have to try and finish this quickly, even if he didn’t really want to hurt them. They hadn’t done anything yet. Except– well, except agreeing to makeout with a college student in a back alley. Brian had to force himself to not wrinkle his nose at the whiskey smell that came with each of their heavy breaths–that was a scent that was only kinda sexy on Jonny–there was no way he wasn’t going to be at least a little tipsy after everything was over. Which–might sell his excuse about going out for drinks with Galahad and the Pendragon Polycule better than coming home sober.

“Thanks,” Brian replied quietly, “a friend of mine does it for me.” Ivy had been dying her hair forever, and was therefore the most apt member of the Crew to aid in taking care of everyone’s hair when they were too Tired to do it themselves for one reason or another. It was always relaxing, her hands running through his hair as she washed it for him in either the bathroom sink or the flat’s tub–he had a lot of hair and was very inconsistent about cutting it to various lengths. It seemed to make his joints stop hurting and his head less achey. She’d probably say something about endorphins and serotonin and relaxing–or maybe Raph would, no telling who.

“Oh?” they responded, clearly uninterested.

“Mhm,” Brian nodded. “Hey, did you know that the scales of most sharks, placoid scales, are made up of largely the same enamel as what makes up teeth? So some people call their scales teeth scales.” Brian knew approximately four people who called them that, and one of them was studying marine biology. And the other three were Raph, Galahad, and Jonny. Actually, he’d heard Marius call them teeth scales before– or, no, he’d called them teeth skin. That still counted, he supposed. So, five people, on a technicality, probably six soon once Toy picks it up. He was surprised it hadn’t already, actually. “I’ve even heard some people call them teeth skin. Although they don’t eat with their skin, like some animals.”

Whatever direction the probably-a-man expected this conversation to go, this was certainly not it. They stared at him in confusion, pausing in twirling his hair in their hand. Well, that was what he was wanting, confusion and surprise. He was running out of odd animal facts though–Toy hadn’t given him any new bug facts in a while and it was more focused on trying to find frog facts that none of the Crew had heard before (which was harder than it seemed) and Lyffrassir was just generally hesitant to start infodumping about marine biology around anyone other than Marius it seemed. All this to say, Brian was thinking about getting a better method to throw people off their game.

He was overthinking this innocuous piece of information, he knew. Stalling. The confusion wouldn’t last long, the person’s inebriated mind probably already forgetting why they’re confused in the first place. He was hesitating, but god or gods above, his stomach ached with want. And yet, he was hesitating. He should really be used to this by now–he’s been doing this for two years at this point. Just– stop thinking, and do it.

“Well–” the person started, but didn’t get to finish as Brian lunged for their throat, sharp fangs easily piercing the delicate, human flesh. Their words, and their scream, died in their throat as he did so. They thrashed and tried to push him away, but being the inhuman thing he was, he was stronger and was able to hold them in place until they stopped trying to fight, as he drained their lifeblood through the gaping, gushing wound in their neck.

He always hated it, hated feeding off of and killing people. But if he didn’t, he could starve, and starving looked much worse than killing one or two people a month–he’d tested it. At least twice.

It was several minutes until the person fully went limp, but there was still blood and Brian was still hungry, even if he knew he was overindulging and going to feel sick and even more achey than usual later. Eventually though, as the now-corpse was starting to run dry (some part of himself, the part that was a starving, ravenous thing, wanted to drain as much as he could, and knew that there was surely more blood in the body that was just harder to get too–he ignored that part vehemently), Brian let the corpse drop and stepped back, staring blankly at the corpse.

He did this every time, taking a second to stare at the mess he left. Take a minute to revel in how awful he was.

A voice snapped him out of his post-feeding haze. “Oh~ I know that smell~!” Brian’s head snapped up to the end of the alley, eyes widening and body freezing in place. “What do we have– Brian?”

Jonny stared at him with glowing, red eyes, confusion written on his face.

Shit.

[squeakygeeky]

My brain is going whirr whirr whirr so here’s a random lesson/unhinged rant on romanization. What is romanization? It means using the letters of the Latin alphabet (in this case I really mean the English alphabet) to represent a different script. Obviously I’ll be talking here about how we represent the Thai script (which I know is technically an abugida not an alphabet, don’t @ me). The way I see it, there’s two basic reasons to do this.

To make the word more pronounceable/memorable/understandable for people who speak languages that use the Latin alphabet. For example you’re a learner who doesn’t know the Thai alphabet 100% yet and you want to make notes on a word you just learned. Or you’re putting up signs for tourists, where it doesn’t really matter if they can pronounce the name of the place properly as long as it matches what’s in their guidebook.

Technical limitations. For example, someone from a country with a different writing system has to fill out their name in a form that only accepts latin letters. Or maybe you want to message a friend in Thai over in-game chat but it doesn’t support Thai. Or maybe you could theoretically be typing in Thai but you have a US keyboard so it’s just easier to turn to romanization instead.

One thing relevant to me, and probably anyone reading this is the romanization of character names. I see it as a combo of 1 and 2. Obviously the audience needs a memorable way to think of the character and also it would be bizarre to randomly switch into Thai in the middle of the English subs, if the software even lets you do that.

There are two basic categories of romanization. Transcription is where you use the Roman alphabet to represent the sounds of thai, and transliteration where you basically just substitute English letters for Thai ones. The big difference between the two is going to be with ending consonants, since there are different pronunciation rules for initial consonants than for when that letter is the final consonant of a syllable.

THERE IS NO STANDARD SYSTEM FOR ROMANIZING THAI

Okay, well there is the Royal Thai General System of Transcription (RTGS), and it is official, but even the government doesn’t use it consistently and also I hate it, which is what really matters. It’s terrible for English-speaking learners because a lot of choices are misleading. Think of all the people who cannot pronounce ‘Phuket’ because in English ‘ph’ is ‘f’ but in RTGS it’s an aspirated ‘p’ (so to me just a normal ‘p’). This would be okay though if you gained a basic familiarity with how RTGS worked, or just looked up a chart or something. Much worse is the fact that the combination of letters ‘ch’ are used to represent two completely different sounds in Thai. Part of me wishes translators would always use RTGS so we could have consistent subs, but then I remember it’s terrible and most Thais do not use it for their names in reality. The good thing about RTGS is that since it doesn’t use any diacritic markers or other non-Latin characters it’s useful when technical limitations are the issue.

Most materials for learners will use some form of transcription, but this will vary wildly. I had my own personal system at one point, but didn’t end up using it much because I stopped taking notes and switched to listening only. However, now I'm all about the Thai alphabet.

There are downsides to transcription. One is that many sounds in Thai simply do not exist in English, so any attempt to transcribe fundamentally won't allow an English speaker to intuitively pronounce it correctly. Another is that the pronunciation of the same word can vary, which you’ll see a lot with any word containing ‘ร’. Formally (or sarcastically), this will be a rolled ‘r,’ but normally people pronounce it ‘l’ (if it’s pronounced at all, in consonant clusters people just drop it and they also tend to drop actual ‘l’ sounds in clusters). So of course it makes sense to be written ‘r,’ but it’s not going to sound like that most of the time, so is that really transcription at all? Also our own letters don’t actually correspond to specific sounds in English, so English is a fundamentally terrible language to try to transliterate things into?

The advantage of transcription, where you just swap a Thai letter for an English one, is that it’s very easy for someone who is Thai. They can just spell the word in Thai in their head and make the substitution, no worries about how it actually sounds. I don’t mind transcription at this point, since I am starting to get the hang of final consonants, and in some cases it helps me guess at the Thai spelling of the word. Buttttt it’s not actually that helpful for that since there are lots of cases where multiple Thai letters make the same sound.

Whatever you’re doing, you have to wrestle with the fact that Thai has tones, so if you’re not representing the tones somehow, you definitely won’t be able to pronounce a word properly based on its romanization. And if you’re using romanization for reason 2, technicla limitations, it may be literally impossible to represent tones. RTGS doesn’t bother with tones. Or vowel length. So that’s great.

If you want to actually learn to pronounce a word in Thai and don’t know the Thai script, your best bet is IPA. The International Phonetic Alphabet is a standard way to represent sounds, so it’s super useful…if you know IPA. Or if you want to look through some charts and listen to some audio files to learn how to pronounce one specific thing. It’s not useful for resolving technical limitations because it uses lots of symbols not in the Latin alphabet. And unless you want to be a polyglot, why waste time learning IPA when you could just learn the Thai script? Also it doesn’t do tones.

Here’s a website where you can plug in any thai text and get a transcription, including in IPA. There are many options. If you do it with a character’s name, you can try those options and it’s totally possible none of those will match what you see in the subs because the actual human is using transliteration/their own random system that is not one of the things listed/there's a canon romanization of the character's name. But also because sometimes it's just wrong. Have fun.

For more resources on pronouncing Thai I recommend Stuart Jay Raj. His way of talking about things takes some getting used to, but his ‘indic compass’ is actually pretty useful. If you set it to show Thai, you can click on a letter to hear it and see how it’s supposed to be made in the mouth. I also like his video on vowels.

For more on Thai names, see @recentadultburnout’s posts on Thai name meanings.

Because I’m currently obsessed with Century of Love, the rest of this is using the two actors, Daou and Offroad, as examples:

Did you know that Daou’s name had two syllables? My mind was blown when I heard it.

Thai: ต้าห์อู๋ IPA: tâː ʔǔː RTGS: tau The way I would write it for myself: dta-oo

Absolutely no way I was getting that from reading 'Daou.' That first letter is an unaspirated, unvocalized alveolar consonant, and I know what that means because despite not being great at IPA, I am pretty obsessed with how in the mouth sounds are made. Basically it’s like ‘d’ or ‘t’ without actually being either of them. ต้า is the first syllable and ห์อู๋ is the second, but this is not a reading lesson, let's move on.

Offroad’s name is literally the English word ‘off-road’ like a jeep. In Thai script it’s ออฟโรด (not just his name, also when discussing motor vehicles). The site gets this one 'wrong,' putting an 'f' when that's not what 'ฟ' does as a final consonant, but closer to actual English word, so I used charts for this.

Thai: ออฟโรด IPA: ʔɔ̀ːp rôːt RTGS: oprot

There’s no ‘f’ ending sound in Thai, and consonants are always unvoiced and unreleased. If you read my Wat/Wad post, I said 'ด' as a final consonant makes a ‘t’ sound, but I really meant it’s the weird ‘dt’ sound. So lots of people pronounce his name something more like ‘awploadt.’ I kept thinking people were calling him ‘upload’ until I actually thought it through.

Feel free to send your burning questions about pronunciation/spelling, though I’m definitely not advanced enough to be confident recording myself saying anything.