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#I also feel like the line
shannankle · 1 year
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Queer and Crip Temporality in the Eighth Sense and Giovanni's Room
I've been thinking the last week about how The Eighth Sense represents mental health and queerness through a fractured sense of time. It got me thinking about the concepts of queer and crip time which I think the show is depicting. I've also been thinking about how the parallels between how the The Eighth Sense captures experiences of fracture and abjection in a similar way to the novel Giovanni's Room.
For reference:
Part 1: Queer and Crip Time explained
Part 2: Giovanni's Room
Part 3: The Eighth Sense
Queer time and Crip Time
Queer time is a concept that touches on the way that queer lives don't progress in the normative way that non-queer lives tend to. It's a temporal displacement from the norm that queers expectations of heteronormative progress. As a small example, think of the way that many queer folks don't experience many traditional coming of age milestones in the same form or pace as is often expected; things such as dating or going through one's desired puberty may often come much later in life.
Notions of crip time build on the notion of queer time while thinking about disability. This captures in part the way that many disabled lives run on a different time scale, much like with queerness. From the way that a flare or doctor's visits can run a person ragged, taking up their time. To the way that lying in bed, isolated from society, time expands in ways ablebodied folks rarely experience. Crip time, like forms of queer time, however, also refers to a resistant mode of thinking about disabled futures. It interrogates the ableist impulse to envision the future without disability, while opening up for thinking about what a crip future might look like.
In an important way queer and crip time, and representations of them, are both about capturing a lived experience and about imagining otherwise.
2. Queer Time and Abjection in Giovanni's Room
I want to start first by thinking about Giovanni's Room because I think both this novel and The Eighth Sense use queer time in similar ways, but are striving towards different conclusions. So I think it's useful to use Giovanni's Room as a base.
The novel by James Baldwin follows David, an American man who moves to Paris where he begins to navigate his bisexuality and internalized homophobia when he begins a relationship with an Italian bartender Giovanni. The story is told primarily as a flashback, moving between a telling of David and Giovanni's relationship and fallout and the present moment (what David calls "the night which is leading to the most terrible morning of my life") where David is passing the evening before Giovanni's execution.
While the novel structurally plays with time to tell it's story, it also embeds time into the narrative in more symbolic ways as well. Throughout the novel, Giovanni is associated with atemporality, constantly out of step with the flow of Paris life due to his poverty and queerness which require him to work the night shift at a bar. Giovanni is placed both in opposition to normative time but also dependent on it for his financial survival. He gets off work just before dawn as the rest of the city begins it's day. As a shift laborer (he works as a bartender at a gay bar) he must work within a specific schedule for survival, and his poverty and queerness force him out of step with the rhythms of normative society. In this way, atemporality is a form of abjection or social death.
At the same time, Giovanni also turns to atemporality as a form of queer refuge when he is not working particularly within the space of his room where David spends time with him. David recalls that "life in that room seemed to be occuring beneath the sea. Time flowed past indifferently above us; hours and days had no meaning." Giovanni's room becomes a space where time has no meaning, making it free from social constructs of time. All of this, importantly, is carried by the metaphor of the sea, which on the surface marks time by the movement of the tides and the moon, but deep below the surface these tides become imperceptible. And after Giovanni loses his job, David notes how he feels as if he is sinking deeper.
Unfortunately, in Giovanni's Room Baldwin depicts this queer refuge as unsustainable. Temporal norms demand that the body must labor and do so on a specific schedule or social death turns into literal death. After losing his job when his boss tries to exploit him sexually Giovanni sinks further into poverty before killing his former boss and facing execution. At the same time, conformity is also framed as death. David ultimately struggles with his attraction to men. At one point he sleeps with a woman to test his manhood noting afterwards that at this point "I simply wondered about the dead because their days had ended and I did not know how I would get through mine." Baldwin sets up a tension, where the characters can neither escape the norm nor conform since both bring death.
3. Queer and Crip Time in The Eighth Sense
Like Giovanni's Room, The Eighth Sense relies on a fractured and displacement of time to convey the abject nature of queer experience, particularly through the editing style and the way this conveys JaeWon's experience. Of course, I would argue that The Eighth Sense leans towards a more optimistic resolution (at least so far) while interweaving an exploration of trauma, mental illness, and disability with queerness (in comparison to Giovanni's Room which primarily interweaves social class).
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Throughout the show JaeWon faces the strain of normative time and a lingering feeling of too-lateness. He is on the cusp of graduation, like many of the seniors he is expected to take the next step soon of finding a job and entering the rhythms of the workforce. We can feel the strain of this in many ways. For example, the fact that he would like to try out a different career path (photography) but tells his therapist that he feels it is too late.
This too-lateness, of course, also ties into both his queerness and his experience with trauma. Experiencing his brother's death and feeling that he was to blame, that he was in every way too late to save a life that meant so much to him. This affects his relationship with JiHyun after the accident. Once again he failed someone close to him. And in his eyes we can see how he has given up, that in his mind it is all too late. Too late to choose the happiness JiHyun brings him, too late to remove the mask he wears around others, too late to trace a future that doesn't just repeat the past.
The stylistic way in which the show edits and chops up time shows this fracturing well, capturing the way trauma can crip time and the way non-normativity can lead to an internal sense of abjection. Much like Giovanni's Room we see the pressure of normativity and the way this fractures JeaWon, and of course the show subtly gestures to one potential end point when his therapist asks if he has been considering extreme options.
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In another similarity to Giovanni's Room, the strain of normative time is contrasted with spaces that offer queer escape, where time expands and normative progression is cast aside. The ocean for him is in some ways that space. We see this most in how JiHyun becomes a safe space for JaeWon. He tells his therapist that he is "happy with him" to which she responds "I can tell that he offers you a place to rest." As @respectthepetty and others have noted, this is shown visually as JiHYun brings light to JaeWon's world.
It is also captured on their beach trip in episode 6. The dreamlike quality and temporal jumping can be read as a way of conveying the refuge of queer and crip space that throws of the shackles of normativity through a sense of atemporality. I think we might also consider the therapists office as a quasi space of crip refuge. While these scenes are still darkly lit and not so dreamlike, they similarly serve as a space where JaeWon's trauma is not fully hidden behind a mask or himself in shadow.
It is largely the ocean which centrally stands in symbolically as this space of refuge for JaeWon and of course as JiHyun comes further into his life, the two merge as JaeWon brings him to the ocean for their trip. Yet, as episode 6 closes, we see this space of refuge, much like in Giovanni's Room prove unsustainable, marked by the threat of death and loss when JiHyun is hurt and this refuge slips away in JaeWon's eyes. He is sinking deeper.
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Once again we are faced with both paths leading to abjection and death. However, while the last few episodes have not aired yet, I do believe that The Eighth Sense pushes for a different conclusion than Giovanni's Room and we see this in JiHyun. Like David in Giovanni's Room he comes to find himself in the big city, but instead of internalizing homophobia, he challenges himself to be brave. He is building a network of caring people, many of whom are themselves outcasts in some way, finding new ways to think about queer futures. Even his choice to work sidesteps the grueling constraints of capitalist labor by finding a place where he is valued by his boss (note how often she assures him he doesn't have to work, it's a choice). Again, the final episodes aren't out yet, but I believe the show is building to an alternate conclusion, one where JiHyun and JaeWon can both find it in themselves to choose a future, a future that is crip and queer and not too late, but rather infinite.
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nonebinary-leftbeef · 10 months
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DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one
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ronanlynchbf · 8 months
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tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY
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kayawolfhorse · 2 months
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Discuss
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ash-and-starlight · 10 months
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The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀
Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.
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anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck
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(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)
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infernal-lamb · 3 months
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Searching your eyes for the saint is an act of futility
something that's just been on my mind recently!
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petricorah · 1 month
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scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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Laios's three Boy Best Friends. And yes, they hate him.
#dungeon meshi#laios touden#toshiro nakamoto#chilchuck tims#kabru#BF in this context could be boyfriend or best friend. The line is so blurry.#Chilchuck less so but whatever is going on between Shuro and Laios & Kabru and Laios is giving strong:#“dude if you were a girl I'd date the hell out of you”. And from the genderswap extra's that sentiment is canon for BOTH.#This was made prior to the translation of the Laios & Kabru & Shuro restaurant date comic and honestly I am just feeling vindicated.#I don't even know what to call this dynamic other than a situationship. There is so much going on between all of them.#Even on a purely platonic reading - the miscommunication and male yearning for friendship hurt so bad.#When we got the Big Hug scene in the epilogue arc I was whooping and hollering! Pure catharsis moment!#I also don't like hugs very much so I really felt it went Shuro ('hates being touched') went in for the bear hug.#Do not get me started on the agony of 'always lying' Kabru telling the truth (I just wanted to be friends)#and 'always believes' Laios thinking it's another lie and brushing him off.#I am once again supporting dungeon meshi day by posting art. Please watch dungeon meshi.#obligatory edit because I’m tired: YES. Chilchuck cares for Laios and him admitting it was a huge part of his arc#YES he is more just fed up with him that actually hating him.#I needed a third guy to be canonically done with his ass for the THREE WEED SMOKING GIRLFRIENDS reference
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confessedlyfannish · 23 days
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Writing Prompt #12
Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.
Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.
Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.
While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.
These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".
There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—
"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.
But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.
He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.
"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.
"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.
"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.
He doesn't look away from the man.
"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."
"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.
The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.
The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"
Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."
"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."
He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.
"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.
"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.
"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."
"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.
"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."
"Him."
"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."
"Why me?"
"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."
This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.
"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"
"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."
Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."
"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."
"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."
"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."
"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."
"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.
"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.
"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."
"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."
"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."
Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.
Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.
"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."
The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.
"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.
"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."
"I have more than one."
"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."
"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"
There is a pause.
"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."
"Resolve what?"
"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."
"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."
Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."
The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.
"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."
"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."
"They will have already muzzled him."
Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.
"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."
"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—
Clack!
"sluuuuurp!"
"Master Timothy, honestly!"
"Sorry Alfred!"
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ryllen · 2 months
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and some extra unused stuff while they are in affectionate mood
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inkskinned · 1 year
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she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let
and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment
and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.
and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment
and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?
to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.
and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.
you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.
#this btw is not including toxic friendships this is legit just something ive experienced MANY times now#writeblr#you ever have a friend in one of those relationships where ur like#u don't HATE their partner explicitly#but ur like. what the fuck y'all#like the weird part of being an adult is that you can't be like . CERTAIN their relationship is toxic#and also if u move too fast or push too hard u can hurt someone who is already in a scary situation so you just are like#frozen there. laughing awkwardly. saying ''haha..... yeah..... couldn't be me....''#and like u can't tell - is this banter or does he actually think like. he's better than her.#all you can do is be there for your friend and hope they wake up to it#or ... that it really IS good#and it's just odd to you#tbh btw id rather have my friends feel safe coming to me if they have a concern about my relationship#like yes it's not ur business but it also IS bc im making u hang out with them and also ur my friend#it's a weird thing to experience as an adult bc it is such a blurry line and when u spend time#around couples that aren't like ACTUALLY ur friends but instead ''extended friend circle'' ur like#.... i don't know y'all well enough and he just called you a cow. and ur okay with that . and i don't know how to respond.#so ur like :) okay. um. go to couple's counselling i think#but also you are NOT supposed to pass judgement so it's like.... this weird limbo of feeling like you SHOULD say something#but knowing you CANNOT#idk that there's a way to resolve it!!!!!!!! it's probably a different approach person to person#edited my tags bc tumblr's new system fucked em up#PS EDIT: btw i should have said:#the pronouns in this can work in any and every direction. every gender and every sexuality and every#type of relationship tbh. even non-romantic relationships where ur like ''what do u mean ur bff calls u stupid''
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welcometogrouchland · 3 months
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ANOTHER SKETCH DUMP! Featuring more of me playing with lineless art. Batman reborn era trio (dick, damian and steph) I miss you...when will you return from war. Also featuring Steph designs bc I've seen ppl dissatisfied w/ her current look, some good mom Talia, and Jason Todd poetry club. Duke is confused not that Jason would start a poetry club but that he'd have such mid poetry opinions. (ID in Alt)
#dc comics#batfamily#damian wayne#stephanie brown#dick grayson#talia al ghul#duke thomas#cassandra cain#mine#woo new art tag. please god let me keep this up all year#uhh anyway yeah! still a big backlog of sketches but i got burnt out which means i had time to collect some#i feel like my art looks. extremely different w/o lines compared to with? idk i worry that's it weird/off-putting#but hey at the end of the day I'm hardly worrying about my brand integrity on tumblr dot com#duke and cass being at poetry club is based on them canonically being into poetry and for a good while duke and jason got along well#Steph is there for both jason and cass' emotional support (unfortunately there's a design flaw. she can't do both simultaneously)#(which is fine bc cass is fleeing the scene at the idea of having to casually hang out with jason)#(they're the exact amount of similar and more importantly different that it's like putting two firecrackers together. bad)#i really like the steph mask designs... it'd be fun to do something with them but idk what y'know?#I'm just like. if we're assuming that her mask has to be different from both babs and cass then this is what I've got as alternatives#i mostly wanted to practice character interaction with the talia and damian one... and also i love them#looking at james gunns batman movie proposal. you keep your hands OFF HER MR GUNN#please if shes evil in a movie they're never gonna let her be good in the comics again 😭#dc when you inevitably cave and do your next big reboot let the ppl finally have the son of the demon origin (w/ tweaks of course)#idk it's canon in my heart. heartcanon if you will <3#anyway yeah uhhhhhh enjoy?
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humbuns · 1 year
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i want him
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waveoftheocean · 1 year
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"i can see it in his eyes" 🥰
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cherryrogers · 11 months
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i just think that leon could be railing tf you, like rearranging your guts and making you cry……... all while holding your hand and stroking your hair n stuff :(( yeah
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A hot tear rolls down your cheek. You’ve never had him like this before. This hard. This rough. Leon has always been careful with you, but tonight, you asked him not to be. Looked up at him through your lashes and asked him to ruin you, as you’d put it.
And well, you’re getting what you asked for.
“You okay, pretty?” He says, gripping your hips hard as he pushes into you, hips landing flush against your ass. It’s a rhetorical question; he knows you’re enjoying this. He only made you repeat the safe word close to a dozen times before pinning you onto the bed and having his way with you. “This what you wanted?”
Your hands clutch onto the bedsheets for life, head impossibly hazy from how Leon has utterly abused your cunt for the past thirty minutes. Swiping over your clit with his thumb and pulling away when your thighs start to shake. Rutting into you hard and fast, but never keeping up the pace enough for you to climax.
It’s pain and it’s torture, but fuck it feels good.
He wraps a hand around one of your thighs, pushing it over his shoulder, eliciting a broken whine from you. He’s buried deeper inside you now, somehow. Stuffed like you’ve never known.
“N-Need to cum, Leon,” You look up at him, glossy eyed and pouting. “Please.”
“You’ll get to cum,” He grunts simply, lifting a hand to push some hair away from your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your temple. “You’re— fuck. You’re gorgeous like this.”
Truthfully, Leon wasn’t totally convinced by the idea. Fucking you until you cried, until you begged. But you’re clenching tightly around him, making the most wonderful sounds… you’re ruined. Ruined beautifully by the pleasure only he can grant you.
His free hand moves so he’s thumbing at your clit again, and you cry out at the pleasure shooting through your core. One of your hands moves from the sheets to clutch at his shoulder, but Leon is quick to envelop it in his own, lacing his fingers with yours and pushing your hand back against the pillow. You’re sure you’re squeezing it uncomfortably tight, but if you are, Leon doesn’t mention it.
And fuck, you’re crying again. You’re overwhelmed and overstimulated but somehow none of it is enough, your orgasm impending yet too far away with the game Leon seems to be playing.
This is what you wanted, after all. And well, you’re not complaining.
Upon seeing your cheeks wet and your eyes wide and blinking away tears, Leon leans down, never slowing his torturous ruts into your cunt as he presses his lips to the salty liquid on your skin.
“You’re taking this— mm, so well…” He utters against your cheek, hissing as you tighten around him. “So pretty getting fucked like this.”
His lips are soft and comforting, along with the hand that’s squeezing yours in reassurance.
When your eyes meet his, they’re heavy and dark. Plagued with desire and a thirst for your pleasure.
You don’t think this is the last time you’ll have Leon like this. It’s a thrilling thought.
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radioroxx · 4 months
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guarantee someone had already done this but idc. the sillies :)
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