I'm Keeping You In The Time Loop. It's The Only Way I Know How To Keep You Safe. Trapping You Here, In

{ 𓆩 x 𓆪 }

He Cong's Maison Margiela Couture Story by Zhong Lin for W Magazine China June 2024

“Israel is committing genocide.” Yes. They are. But so is the US. The US is 100% complicit in this, and Israel would not have been able to do as much without the help of the US. I’m disgusted to be living in a country that is complicit in the literal MURDER of civilians. Men, women, children, elderly, families. All dead because of Israel AND the US. This needs to STOP.

of course he’s the kid you wanted, dick thinks, he says, he yells because he is eighteen and so full of hope for life that he forgot about the chains he put on himself that drag him back to bruce’s stupid fucking cave no matter how hard he tries to break free of them. and he’s tried to run away, he’s tried and tried and tried, from the very first fight he had with bruce when he was a burnt-out cluster of stars in the shape of a nine year old boy to two weeks ago, when he realized that there are papers that turn jason peter todd into jason peter todd-wayne. jason peter todd-wayne likes going to school and helps alfred cook and actually enjoys doing weapons inventory and reads books curled up in the big armchair next to the mahogeny desk in bruce’s chamber of an office. dick did backflips on the chair for all of ten minutes before bruce’s quiet scribbling and the walls full of books felt like they were closing in on him, and he had to tumble down the steps of the batcave and throw his body around the parallel bars just to keep his soul from ballooning out of his body with the need to move. jason made bruce smile the day his parents died in the alley his parents died in. jason is quiet enough to put bruce at ease but loud enough to fill the space and bruce loves him like a son. maybe bruce loved dick, but dick made him rub his forehead in exasperation and look over dick’s prescriptions every couple of months and slump with exhaustion after they spent a day together. dick made bruce tired, but jason made him smile, so dick bent his neck in submission and let the kid wear robin on his chest with pride. 

of course he’s the kid you wanted, jason spits out bitterly, the winds whipping past him and bruce on a rooftop like riptides carrying people to their deaths. he can pinpoint the minute his rage turned to hopelessness, because this new robin ran to the edge of a cliff and jumped off without a hint of fear, flying higher and higher until he reached the moon, until he reached the stars, until he reached the outstretched hands dick motherfucking grayson held out for him. dick held his hands out for jason too, but jason’s wings melted with the heat of dick’s stupid stupid stupid perfectness, and no matter what he did, icarus always fell. jason wasn’t an idealistic little annie with stars in his eyes; he braced himself for the burn the minute bruce took him into wayne manor, because rich white men always want things and jason spent months waiting to find out what bruce wayne wanted. the answer was companionship, the answer was someone to protect and care for, the answer was a child to love as his own, which was so hopelessly pure that jason’s skin felt bleached by it. tim’s skin didn’t have to be bleached by it. tim had skin as white as porcelain and eyes like shattered diamonds and an aristocratic little accent that jason could practically see jewels and precious metals dripping off of, his wealth and privilege locking jason in place like the midas touch. jason was a kid bruce picked up off the streets, and even though he’d spent his life knowing that he was smart and strong and clever enough to earn robin, to survive the league, to be red hood, there would always be someone better, someone worth more, someone who fit the robin mold like they were melted and poured into it. so jason snarled and screamed and broke down as loud as he could, because he thought he meant the world to bruce, thought he was his son, but tim was a much better son than jason could ever be, and jason didn’t just outgrow those pixie boots, his feet grew so big they tore them to pieces, and he’d never be able to wear them again.

of course he’s the kid you wanted, tim says to himself, on the precipice of turning his entire body into an ice-cold sculpture near unbreakable with the fire of emotion and letting the tears that had bubbled up into his throat burst out with all the fury of a supernova. tim had chip, chip, chipped away at himself until he’d become the perfect partner, the perfect robin, because that’s all he ever wanted to do. he wanted to be useful, he wanted to work for something with his own two hands and have earned his victory, he wanted someone to tell him they were proud of the work he had done. but tim had fucked it up, he’d fucked it all up, because he hadn’t been able to accept nearly everyone he loved being ripped from his greedy fingers, and all of the satisfaction he got from crowing about how he was right and how bruce was alive and they brought him back because of him turned to acid in his mouth because of the things he’d done to get there. damian was broken too, damian was shattered into so many little pieces that the shards pricked dick all over and made him bleed until damian was seeped into his skin so deep that dick didn’t have any other choice but to love him. tim was just fractured. he had bold lines running across his skin, a map of his strengths and things he overcame and survived turning into a map of his failure, and splinters running across his soul. a streak for trying to clone conner, a streak for mutilating the robin costume with his own grief, a streak for letting ra’s come as close as he did to compromising tim, a streak for not being able to convince cass to stay, a streak for getting kicked out the window and letting himself fall, letting dick believe he’d known he was there and quietly wishing that dick hadn’t gotten to him in time. damian, for all his faults, had only ever tried to claw his way up with bloodstained hands to morality and kindness and good, somehow ignoring the siren call that was the league at his back. so, with a silent and motionless tantrum as violent as someone locked inside arkham, tim screamed at the unfairness of it all, at the audacity of it all, but let himself become accustomed to the r sitting on damian’s chest.

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this is a genuine question and not me being snarky or anything, but what's with the aversion to dick grayson's ass? when i was new to the fandom, i just sort of assumed it was a joke that he's got a great ass, but i've seen a few things lately that make it seem like it wasn't alright to say those things? i'm out of the loop and you seem to know what's up lol

So it’s like.... it’s complicated. 

Dick having a nice ass isn’t necessarily a bad thing to joke about as fans in moderation, but the problem is that in the actual comics there are multiple instances of other characters commenting on his ass and body in general with him very clearly expressing discomfort over it, and it usually gets treated like a joke.

(Trinity (2008) #10)

(New Teen Titans #56)

There’s so many more instances throughout his history but those are a few I had on hand. Not only that, but this paired with the fact that he has been raped twice in canon, just makes it very uncomfortable when DC oversexualizes him as some kind of marketing thing to try to appeal to a female audience, and usually when they do it’s by putting more ass focus/jokes/commentary into stuff. So it can just get kinda... tiring.

If they’re not going to treat the sexual harassment he’s faced in the comics they publish seriously, then they have no right to joke about him like that, ya know? But again, when fans comment/joke about it it’s... very different than when DC does it.

Like, there is nothing wrong with considering Dick Grayson to be a sexy character, or to have a nice ass or something like that, and it’s not even like it’s bad to talk about it! He is sexy! But we as fans should be critical of how this subject gets portrayed in the comics because it’s very often that he is being sexualized by others in ways he expresses discomfort over. Usually it feels like when people are saying to stop making jokes about Dick’s ass it comes more from a place of being frustrated by DC doing this rather than like... some other fan making a shitpost about it being the root of the problem 

This is a pretty good post talking about the Grayson comic specifically that kinda goes into some talk about the difference between a character being Sex-positive vs being Sexualized. 

Due to work my body hurts bad

 Still life - Teija Lehto , 2023

Finnish, b. 1965 -

Woodcut, 83 x 53 cm.

god grant me the strength to write my weird porn, the serenity to write my weird porn and the wisdom to write my weird porn