#i was completely wrong

[violent138]

More than half the League is betting at any time that they know when it's actually Batman under the mask, or someone else. Unfortunately, they were wrong when:

Dick was doing a phenomenal job of playing Bruce (didn't give himself away even once by smiling), because he fell asleep

Batman stubbed his toe against a table and swore like a sailor which led to cash exchanging hands as several people figured it was Jason, but Bruce had recently switched out of Matches Malone to dress up as Bats and hadn't shaken the Mindset yet

Batman's suit sat weirdly empty at the table and Oliver, annoyed, tried to tell Damian that this was too serious a meeting for Bruce to delegate, but it was Batman, hit with a de-ageing spell and too stubborn to sit out

After sustaining pretty serious injuries, Batman was whiteknuckling the table, in an awful mood, and nobody thought anything of it. Barry offered to help Bruce up (if the pain was keeping him trapped, trying not to insult Batman too much), and Jason tightly replied that if he moved the suit was going to tear.

Clark and Bruce had a bet for how long they could replace Bruce with a mannequin without anyone noticing, and because Clark kept looking over at "Bruce" and giggling (pretty par for the course for them), nobody noticed for five hours.

[genlossranbooautism]

You use "arospec people can still date and feel romantic attraction " as an excuse to ship cannon aro characters , I use it as justification to headcannon characters who canonically feel romantic attraction as arospec , we are not the same

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[justaz]

*merlins magic gets exposed in front of the knights*

merlin, magic user: oh fuck

arthur, finally taking this opportunity to pretend as if he just found out merlin has magic after agonizing for the past month on how to bring it up: you have magic?

lancelot, merlin defender, already knew of merlin’s magic: no! i have magic

gwaine, merlin defender, already knew of merlin’s magic, lover of chaos, ride or die: no, i have magic!

mordred, desperate for his hero’s approval bc no matter what he’s done emrys just stares at him with distrust and the poor boy is tired and so close to tears: no…i have magic.

percival, raised by druids and bonded strongly with mordred over that and does Not agree with the persecution of magic in camelot, had an inkling that merlin had magic but no proof: no. i have magic.

*leon and elyan exchange a look, elyan, amused and leon, exhausted, elyan shrugs*

elyan, knows how much gwen adores merlin and completely understands her stance bc merlin…is merlin, down to clown and put on a show, really playing up the dramatics: no! i have magic.

leon, exhausted, has known of merlin’s magic since he stepped foot in camelot, knows of his feelings for arthur and arthur’s feelings for him, knows arthur knows of merlin’s magic and wouldn’t harm him, thinks everyone is being absolutely ridiculous:

*the knights stare hard at leon and even merlin looks slightly offended at leon not jumping to his defense with the rest of the knights, arthur hasn’t said anything and is staring at leon expectantly*

leon, sighing: …no. i have magic.

[panic-flavored]

Doctor Ivo Robotnik NEVER apologizes (until he does)

[keferon]

I. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. I’m okay I’m fine I’m okay I’m fine I’m oka

The fic I'm illustrating and losing my mind about 👉 Mistakes on mistakes until

[valtsv]

that shitty thing some people do where they compliment something about you, only to take it back and reveal that it was meant to be a joke at your expense when you sincerely thank them for it, used to bother me until i realised that you can just. keep it. refuse to hand that power back to them. they are never prepared to deal with this.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, he’s forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.

And then he gets caught.

During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that he’s a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotard’s Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that they’re dead/don’t exist/etc).

Thus, between his “need for mental treatment” and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. He’s under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and has more freedoms than some other inmates, but it’s still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.

Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much aren’t.

[spiderdotexe]

when the elevator is regretful

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[cuntmand]

this is the prettiest anyone has ever looked

[doctorsiren]

Day 19 of Sirentober / Doctober

Cracked / Parallel

creature of habit

Available as a print on my Etsy Shop

[hilacopter]

conflating diaspora jews with the actions of the israeli government is not okay, yes, but have you considered it's not okay to conflate israeli jews with them either

[demigod-shenanigans]

POV: all members of the Lost Trio are queer and also idiots <3

Leo: I don’t pay attention to what other guys look like. That’s probably because I hang out with Jason! [cue description of Jason.] How will I ever get a girlfriend if he’s constantly hanging around me being all handsome and heroic?

Piper: I haven’t stopped thinking about Reyna since I met her in New Rome. Sure, Jason has repeatedly stated that he’s not romantically interested in her, but like. Reyna is literally perfect? She’s so beautiful and powerful? How would she not be on his mind all the time??

Jason: I met Cupid and one of the first things he asked me was if I was still doubting myself. My friend was outed and I’ve had an unshakable urge to tell him that I get how he’s feeling since. Also yes I still remember the outfit Leo was wearing when we met several months ago vividly. For no reason.

————

I have the book scenes for all of these btw. Just posting this version for now because the other post would be very long

[jacquelinemerritt]

Another Confessional Essay

Originally posted June 21st, 2017

If you’ve ever read my writing before, you can probably tell that I’m not that not a fan of the “confessional essay” style that’s become immensely popular on the internet in the last few years. To be perfectly honest, except for a few rare instances where this style of essay is brilliantly crafted and fits the subject matter incredibly well, I tend to find these essays boring and lacking any real substance.

The exceptions that I love are generally essays that relate deeply personal experiences and tie them back effectively to a main point, as in people of color writing about their personal experience with racism, trans people describing their experiences growing up and how they discovered the truth about who they are, or abuse victims describing their experience with abuse and its effects on their lives.

The topic I need to write about fits the second of those three, and so despite not being a fan of the format, and despite preferring to keep my essays and my journaling eternally separate, I need to use the format. Because right now, I am stuck with a burning realization that I don’t know any other way to process: I don’t know how to be a woman.

Now, I’m going to follow that statement by making clear everything that I’m not saying by that. I am not saying that I’m not a woman, I am one and have always been one. I also do on a certain level know “how” to be a person who is accepted as a woman, and I know of many models for womanhood that I could embrace and follow if I desired.

But I don’t want to be any of those women.

The problem here isn’t that I don’t know of ways to be a woman, the problem is that I genuinely don’t know how I am supposed to be both myself and a woman, both in the sense of feeling that my own self is fully womanly and being able to be accepted as a woman without changing who I fundamentally am.

What’s ironic about this is that I have no such confusion about what kind of girl that I am. I know exactly who 6-year-old Jacqueline is, who 13-year-old Jacqueline is, who 16-year-old Jacqueline is. I can envision who I would’ve been growing up a girl at each of those ages, and when I need to feel more feminine, regressing my mind into one of those younger ages and embracing my girlish immaturity makes me feel more secure in my gender identity than anything else possibly can.

But I have no such retreat within my present. I genuinely don’t have a feminine adult headspace that I can turn to when I need to both feel like my adult self and a woman at the same time. Perhaps this is the dysphoric effect of living in a house for over half a year where no one will openly acknowledge your gender identity, and I’ve even arguably come close to creating such a headspace through the persona I’ve crafted for my work as an online tech support advisor, but that persona, as convincingly feminine as it usually is, breaks down whenever​ I need to analyze something critically, take charge of a situation, or even just feel any emotion that isn’t overwhelmingly positive.

More than that though, even in the space where I feel the most creatively free, writing criticism, I don’t feel like I’m able to convincingly write in my own voice and simultaneously write in a voice that makes me clearly appear to be a woman. Now, I’m not saying that all women writers sound a specific way, nor should they, all I am saying is that there are certain styles of writing that project femininity significantly better than others, and that those styles clash inherently with my own style of writing.

Take this essay, for instance. I’m attempting to write in as close to the style of the confessional essay as I can muster, but even with a topic as personal as this my tone has been rigid and commanding, and it only shows the frustration that I’m feeling, not the sadness, insecurity, or hopelessness that I’m feeling in genuinely not having a clue what I should do about it. A good confessional essay would’ve shown all those emotions through with its writing style, but my default writing style is taking over my ability to write here, and I sound nothing like the confessional essay I’m drawing inspiration from.

It’d be one thing if I just couldn’t adapt my writing style to another format though. I know my writing style is rigid, but in general I like the way it makes me come across. What upsets me though is that me not being able to adapt my style to function as a confessional essay means that I cannot adapt my writing style to a more “feminine” style of writing, even as I try to do so now.

If you don’t believe that, just ask yourself, each time I’ve mentioned confessional essays, who have you pictures as the authors?

I know that I’ve only been picturing women, or people close to women on the spectrum of gender.

Now think about everything I’ve written here, the writing style I’ve used, and the way I’ve presented my information​.

What voice have you been hearing in your head as you’ve read through it?

You don’t need to answer that.

It’s been a man’s voice.

And I don’t know how to change that.

Critical Eye Criticism is the work of Jacqueline Merritt, a trans woman, filmmaker, and critic. You can support her continued film criticism addiction on Patreon.

[salemoleander]

I am BARELY resisting going full red-strings-corkboard on this season. And by barely resisting I mean not resisting at all here is an extremely long list of the events those pins would be marking out.

BigB getting a Task that was a different color than everyone else's. It's not just a randomly assigned Hard Task, bc Scar rerolled for a Hard Task and his was also just a white envelope. It's fundamentally different.

That task taking BigB away from socialization, and seemingly being an incredibly time-consuming and dull request. Of profound disinterest to any watchers.

The phrasing of his Task!!

Dig a big hole. All the way down. At least 3x3. Make it your base if you want.

Everyone else's are direct and formal - the only one with more than one sentence was Skizz's, with the rule clarification of "One attempt only." Bigb's Task is four short abrupt sentences. It is also the only Task to contain extraneous information, 'Make it your base if you want.' The requirements (at least 3x3) feel like an afterthought to mimic the numerical/specific demands of the other tasks.

Evo symbol on the face of the Secret Keeper statue.

The fact that there's a statue at all; the fact that there is a physical representation of what is assigning tasks that everyone must complete, when previously everything was always handled via commands and unseen RNG.

Grian talking to the statue, and (bc of his Actual Role as game organizer) acting as a mediator for the impartial decisions handed down, speaking for it.

Grian making one last bad joke and saying he doesn't know if it counted or not- depends on whether we the audience laughed.

Grian asking for task recommendations from the audience. The watchers are making the tasks. The Watchers are making the tasks.

Again I could be off-base, and I'm not usually even that smitten with bringing in Evo lore. I don't want a Big Bad really...but. It feels like something very unusual and intentional and cool is happening in this series. And I'd guess we'll know if theres something going on once we have more than one data point.

My largely unfounded suspicion is that there is another being (maybe Listeners, maybe something else) trying to reach out to the Players via decoy Tasks, and BigB was the first recipient. Get them alone, make them of disinterest to the watchers, and tell them something we don't get to know.

Because that's the really, really fucking cool part (if my wacky theory is remotely right): We're the bad guys. We're the ones giving out tasks - hell, we're the ones actively brainstorming harder and crueller tasks in Grian's comments!

If they actually made a story where the Players have to keep secrets from us I will be delighted. Bc that is the same genius bullshit that made Evo Watcher lore so fun