#who i am fundamentally as a person

[angeltism]

mfw I can't talk about my dgr phase because my abuser has dug his filthy little hands into all my memories of that. most of them anyways but it's incredibly hard for me to talk about my fangan ocs without bringing him up. and it isn't socially acceptable for me to start lore dropping 100k words of aqua backstory especially when it's about my horrendous experience with my abuser.

[eveningdawn222]

people who act like batman isn't "judge jury and executioner" because he doesn't kill people are like. genuinely so funny to me because. they're very obviously thinking of "executioner" as like. the stereotypical guy with axe who chops people heads off, and not, yknow, the literal definition of the idiom itself, which is about someone who has the ability to judge and then subsequently punish someone unilaterally. which is quite literally what batman does.

he has the ability to decide what is a "crime" to him, he is the one who decides whether people are guilty of those crimes, and he is the one who executes their punishment. the severity of the punishment doesn't matter - he is unaccountable to anyone else, and indeed is allowed to commit as many crimes as needed to reach his arbitrary ideal of "justice."

the ideal of batman is this: a man who is so fundamentally changed by an act of senseless violence that he takes it upon himself to fight back against the rot and corruption in the world. he does this not through political activism, not through ridding himself of his wealth in favor of a greater good, not through community outreach, but through an individualistic fantasy of being a hero.

and you'll say: charlie, but he does do that !!! he donates his money all the time, he funds social programs, hospitals, orphanages, gets people jobs -

and i will say this: so why don't things get better?

because here's the base of it. gotham, at its core, can't get better. no matter what bruce wayne does, there will always be more crime, more villains, more death, more people for batman to beat up in back alleys. because that's what sells.

reoffending rates don't matter in gotham, prison reform doesn't matter in gotham, what actually causes crime doesn't matter in gotham because that doesn't sell books.

and so here it is; dc has unintentionally created a world where batman can't win, but can't be wrong, and where thousands of nameless, faceless, only-created-to-die civilians must be pushed into the meat grinder that is gotham, to fuel bruce wayne's angst and vindicate his constant, tireless, noble fight against the forces of evil.

and then: a new robin, who is poor and who's parents are dead or gone because of this cycle; who is happy go-lucky and hated by editors and fans for being robin, for not being dick grayson, for being poor.

and this robin is written, unintentionally or not, to be angry at the ways in which batman's (the narrative's) idea of justice is detached from its victims. bruce seems perfectly fine to allow countless unnamed women to be at risk from garzonas in his home country, yet robin is the one who is portrayed as irrational and violent.

this robin is not detached from gotham in the way bruce wayne is: this robin is a product of gotham.

(and here's the thing. you can't punch aids. you can't fight a disease with colorful fights and nifty gadgets. and how would robin dying from aids add to batman's story; it would call into question the systemic changes that haven't been made in gotham. how does a child get aids, in batman's city?)

so robin dies, and then bruce (the narrative) spends the next couple of decades blaming it on him. it is jason's fault; he was reckless, he just ran in, he thought it was all a game. if only bruce had seen what was coming, if only he could have known that jason wasn't rich enough or smart enough or liked enough to be robin.

batman gets a little more violent, a little more self destructive. he hurts people more and almost (!!) kills a couple guys. this is bad because it's self destructive and "not who he is." it is not bad because batman should not be able to just beat people up when he's angry.

and then he gets a shiny new robin - who is all the things jason "wasn't": rich and smart and rational and he doesn't put who batman is into question. batman and robin are partners, and jason is a grave and a cautionary tale, and (crucially here) never right.

the joker kills thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be killed.

batman beats up thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be criminals.

and then jason comes back, and nothing has changed. there is a batman and a (shiny! rich!) robin and the joker kills thousands. (because it sells)

and jason is angry - he has been left unavenged - his death has meant nothing, just as willis' had, just as catherine's had, just as gloria's had, just as -

thousands. ten of thousands. hundreds of thousands. written to be killed.

but one of them gets to come back.

and he is angry - not only at the joker, but at bruce (the narrative) - because why is the joker still alive (when thousands-)

here is the thing - jason todd is right. not because the death penalty is good, not because criminals deserve to die, not because of everything he says -

but because of what he calls into question. why is the joker alive?

because he sells books.

and dc has written a masterful character, through no fault of their own, because jason knows what is wrong, and he knows who is at fault - batman. (the narrative)

so the argument that bruce can't kill because he's not judge jury and executioner; the argument that jason is a cop or that jason is insane or that jason is in the wrong here; they hold no weight.

batman can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

and jason can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

so he will beg and plead and grovel - he will betray everything that is himself, he will forsake his family and his city and kill himself - just so that bruce (the narrative) will let the joker die.

he was condemned to death by an audience, and after he came back he has spent his whole life looking us in the eyes and screaming, asking, pleading; why is the joker still alive?

why are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands (the number doesn't matter, see, because they're just a number. not people. not real.) why are we expendable for his story? why did i have to die just for nothing to change?

and the answer is money. and the answer is the batman can never be wrong. and the answer is shitty writing. and the answer is -

nothing jason can ever change.

which is the worst of it all. he is a victim with no power, and no one else in the world can see it. he is raging and crying and screaming at his father and his writers and you - and it doesn't matter. jason doesn't matter. and he knows it.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

You know since Fulgrim became this snake thing, how much do you wanna bet he has a habit of swallowing things whole and then just not eating for the next week or so that it takes to digest his meal? I bet you anything he's eaten space marines whole and got a horrible stomach ache from it. Why he thought it was a good idea is anyone's guess.

Anyway, I am slowly learning to love Fulgrim as much as I do Sanguinius. They're both super cool and it's very sad what happened to Fulgrim. I wish I could fix him. Also, Snake. You have no idea how much I fucking love Snakes. His scales are so pretty!!!! I wonder how hard shedding is for him. He must have times where he doesn't really eat much or seem interested in doing anything aside from rubbing on this rock because skin is very itchy and tight. I also realize this would imply Fulgrim is literally just getting bigger and longer. He does not need to get any bigger. He will become a mountain of a snake man if allowed to grow continuously. Probably more likely shed if he gets hurt or has parasites like regular snakes do. Might shed every few hundred years or thousand depending. As big as his sheds would be, imagine how pretty they'd be!!!

[naamahdarling]

.

[fuck-john-calvin]

Jon: *describing what he was like when he was younger, explaining why it was hard to raise him*

Me: Oh. wow. No, that's me exactly. I- I didn't know other people were like that. Nice to know I'm not the only one.

Me: ...

Me: GUYS I'M NOT AUTISTIC. STOP

[lucradiss]

Existing in more than one fandom space is like having more than one group of friends but both of them being so wildly different that any overlap at all would be like getting shot in the head

[altschmerzes]

every time a post/poll goes around about being aspec and fandom shipping enjoyment/engagement/whatever im like. NOW can we stop acting like being an aromantic person who enjoys shipping is some kind of Weird Outlier Situation? can we stop acting like this is an Unpopular Opinion or even Persecuted Outcast Take rather than idk, the default standard, just like everywhere else? idk romance repulsed aromantics Yes Including Fiction aren’t the default or even a significant majority and it really drives me nuts when people act like aros who enjoy shipping are somehow Not exactly that.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

What led you to decide conversion to Judaism was "for you"?

I'll preface this post by saying that you are, essentially, asking to open a Pandora's box - this is an inherently huge question to ask, and I only request that you keep this in mind when I talk about this. I'm completely open to this discussion, though! I am absolutely happy to talk about my journey because it is so deeply personal and fulfilling,

I was raised in a Lutheran family - I was baptized, but I was never really... required to go to church. We'd gone before, my dad and I, but I don't remember this because I was young. However, what I do remember is just not believing in any of it. I never truly believed in Jesus, I'd only said I did. Despite having little pressure put on me in a religious aspect, I'd always just assumed that I should please my family. I went to Jesus camp (a moniker for the religious camp I'd gone to a few times), and I went to a handful of confirmation classes. As I understand it, Lutherans practice confirmation in order to educate young adults about the religion, and by the end, the person decides if this is right for them. I dropped out completely, and honestly, it was simply due to "I believe none of this besides g-d."

Once I had consciously admitted to myself that I really could not reconcile my disbelief, I decided to disconnect completely from all forms of xtianity. I mostly kept to myself and didn't even interrogate my feelings about g-d or religion at all.

After a while, I realized that I truly knew nothing else besides xtianity. I always thought it was my duty as a person to learn about others to accept them. I started throwing myself into education about other religions. Now that I think about it, I think part of myself really did want to connect with something that felt right in my soul. For a while, I didn't find that. Once I started learning about what were the true basics of Judaism, I felt a strange and indescribable feeling, really for the first time ever.

My journey into Judaism really began on an intellectual level. I truly jived with what I was learning - I remember one of my big issues with xtianity was the idea of "spreading the Good News," or proselytizing. I think learning that about judaism was what made me realize that there was something out there that I could logically understand. I loved the cultural understanding of disagreement - that you can even disagree with g-d and not be sent to Hell For All Eternity. I loved that observing mitzvot wasn't really a strict dogma. It was a process we all undertake on some level. I'd say that the common attitude held in the xtain spaces I was exposed to all my life (that is - "all of this is strict dogma, and no questions are deemed acceptable.") really made me appreciate the intellectualism that judaism often fulfills. By nature, I want to disagree with others, explain, agree, and ultimately learn, and I loved the culture of education.

I'd say much of the emotional attachment I now have to judaism came later. There is only so much you can appreciate about judaism from the sidelines, and once I got involved in my community, I truly learned this. Much of my love for judaism is simple - it's everyday life, really.

I think what made me decide so soon that judaism was right is because I am trans. I am no stranger to this feeling, I just had never felt it about religion. It's a deep, soul-level understanding of belonging. It's a feeling you can never do justice to through word alone. I've felt this before, and I know this is a feeling that I cannot simply ignore. It's something you can only grab hold of and never let go. It is a primal understanding within your entire being - at least it is for me.

Because of this, there is so much that I have not touched upon here, but I think I've been rambling for long enough. Again, I welcome any and (almost) all questions that may be remaining. So much of my decision about judaism came down to exposing myself to conversion stories and thoughts about judaism from jews, and if there is a chance I might be even a little like that, I will always welcome it!

[arsenicflame]

Izzy Hands can have a little "thinking hes incapable of feeling love" as a treat (for me. the treat is for me)

[musical-chick-13]

Like. The last thing I'm going to say is that I see a lot of comments about how "Well Americans probably deserve whatever is coming to them" because [some variation of how we are all equally violent and stupid and of course we elected this guy] and I will be the FIRST one to go, "Fuck America for real, I hate it here" but. There are in fact millions of people who did not want this. Who actively fought against it and will continue to do so.

BELIEVE ME, I understand the impulse to go, "Well with all the shit America has done to the rest of the world, why should I feel bad for them." I understand that compassion fatigue is real. And I DEFINITELY don't think it's the rest of the world's job to fight my battles for me or prioritize my feelings above anyone else's.

But if people are worried for their safety. If they're scared. If they're wondering how they and the people they love are going to survive the next few years. If people are feeling despair and despondence over the fact that they are stuck in an absolutely hellish landscape they did not ask for. Just...please let them have that. You don't have to tell them that you think they deserve it.

[thefabelmans2022]

modern people judge historical people for believing that witches and demons were always out to get them because they were children of god and then go on tiktok and like and save videos about how narcissists are always out to get you because you're a fundamentally good person.

[theoldworldsrunnerup]

I am by no means a Kiyomi Takada expert but Take the World by She Wants Revenge feels sooo much like a sort of like,, idealised version of her relationship with Light that she always comes to mind whenever I listen to it. Kiyomi enthusiasts am I onto something orr

[add1ctedt0you]

What's your version of Jiang Cheng Gives Up? *chinhands*

Hiii! My version of jc gives up is very boring: he gives up on wwx and their shared past and moves on.

An overexposure to yunmeng bros reconciliations has brought me to one conclusion: I don't necessarily need them to reconcile. (Not because: 'jc/wwx is so toxic!' or 'jc/wwx deserves better than that selfish asshole!'. Like, I always roll my eyes. They are two horrible human - fictional- beings who deserve each other!).

But imo, post-canon jc has two priorities:

Jin ling

Himself

First point: he needs to be there for jl. Not only politically! But emotionally too. jl is going through a rough time jc too experienced: a loved ones betrayal. jc knows what it does to you. And listen, one of the things I love about jc is how he is trying his best. Always. In particular when it comes to people he loves. ('but he did a lot of things wrong', thank fuck! He is a traumatized character who behaves like a traumatized character. This scene explains so much about jc imo: jc knows that not having an adult in your life who believes in you is shit. So he tries to give space - in his way- to jl, while fighting his urge to protect him, because the last time every one of his family member was on a battlefield, they died.) So yeah, he is going to try being there for jl, in his imperfect way. And that brings me to point two.

jc has to recalibrate himself, to be there for jl: what he thought were truths, are revealed to be lies. All his life was a lie.

That's my favorite jc's speech. It's visceral, it's painfully honest. He is literally saying to us his state of mind: he is feeling guilty, wronged and confused.

'who am I?' hits hard, because who you are when you have built your life on lies?! Should he feel guilty?! wwx has made this huge sacrifice for him, but he has hurt him too: what should he feel?!

So, because I interpret jc as someone who overthinks, I want him to lose his mind over his doubts and start a journey of healing (or, what realistically someone without therapy can manage).

I want him to look at Lotus Pier, his home, and think: 'dang, what I have managed is incredible'. I what him to realize: 'what wwx made for me was an huge sacrifice, but my feelings are valid too'. I want him to be, not happy, but satisfied, when thinking about his life. And I don't need him and wwx to reconcile, because I like the bittersweet taste their broken relationship leaves in his mouth.

So, my jc gives up is: he learns to live with himself and jl, peacefully.

[uncanny-tranny]

If you truly want to do what's best for mentally ill people, you have to learn that you often won't be able to separate the "salvageable" parts of ourselves with our illnesses, and you can't pretend like we are sane people underneath the façade of insanity, like we can flip a switch and magically erase the differences that make us "disordered"

[sholmeser]

my transfem raiden vision…walk with me

[blackjackkent]

Rakha enters the Counting House's high security vault on a balcony overlooking the main floor. It's an enormous room but mostly empty except for three people standing around a single chest at its center - a dwarf in a fine silk tunic and two guards armored like the ones upstairs.

No sign of Minsc. Jaheira has described him and he is definitely not any of these people.

"It's still... moving..." one of the guards quavers nervously, looking at the chest with an expression of deep anxiety.

Rakha's head tilts to one side and she squints. The chest gives an almost imperceptible twitch.

"Hush your fussing," the dwarf says irritably, pulling a pipe from his pocket and sticking it into his mouth. "Nine-Fingers had this one made especially. That little mouthful will barely slow it down."

(A/N: "Made"? This line raises a lot of questions about mimic biology and reproduction. Also, one of Glitterbeard's guards has Hector's face with an undercut and no beard, but the right eye color more or less, which is amusing me.)

"But the stories..." The guard wrings her hands.

"Stories," the dwarf scoffs. "Tall tales and big names." He pokes his pipe at the other guard, who is looking at his comrade anxiously. "Don't let them fool you, lad. Elminster the archmage. Drizzt the drow exlie. Heroes have power, aye - but not half so much as we do." He flicks his fingers, and Rakha watches with mild interest as fire flares up around his fingers, with which he lights his pipe before inhaling a mouthful of smoke.

"A little coin in the right purse," he murmurs pensively. "A soft word in the right ear. It's not glory that spins these planes, lad. It's gold. See? Now--"

He breaks off abruptly. The chest has given another distinct twitch, and this time its accompanied by a low, moaning growl that sets the hair standing up on the back of Rakha's neck.

She has only a moment to process what's happening, but it's long enough. She's seen this before, a creature disguising itself as a chest - in Grymforge, and in Moonrise Towers. A mimic, Wyll called it. A creature that is mouth and teeth and tongue and very little else, and would have swallowed her whole if she'd let it.

Extrapolation flick-flicks through Rakha's brain like lightning. The visitor logs said Minsc was here only minutes ago, led here by Glitterbeard, the bank's manager. Nine-Fingers said she instructed that he be killed. Jaheira has described Minsc as a behemoth, dangerously violent, and with his own streak of madness to match Rakha's.

There are only so many ways to safely kill such a man. One of them, Rakha imagines, is having him swallowed by a mimic.

Mmmm... whispers the beast in her brain. Too quick. Too clean. No mess left behind to show the deed was done. And yet... perhaps not so easy as they think...

The mimic gives another low moan, its whole body spasming and the eyes embedded in its "wood" flesh opening wide. And then a fist explodes outward from between its teeth.

Blood spatters across the ground. The scent fills Rakha's nose and her vision goes white at the corners. She grips the balcony railing, struggling to regain control, and watches in astonishment as a huge, muscular form uncurls itself from within the mimic's body, ripping its jaw upward with a sickening crack.

The mimic screams and shudders to stillness, its tongue lolling out along the stone floor. Minsc - for certainly this is Minsc - straightens up, his eyes bright with rage as he glares down at the dwarf.

"There is no gold in here!" he bellows, pointing at the dead mimic. With a grunt, he lifts the whole creature up by its tongue and hurls it aside.

"If there is one thing Minsc hates more than beasts with bad breath," he growls. "It is those who are tricksome with the truth."

His head cocks to one side, and then he smiles, showing all of his teeth. "And turnips. But you are no turnip! Let that be a comfort to you in your final moments!"

At Rakha's side, Jaheira laughs suddenly - a sound Rakha has never heard from her before. Every muscle in her body has relaxed with sudden visible relief and her eyes have brightened as she steps forward eagerly. "Meet Minsc!" she says cheerfully. "He still seems very much himself to me."

Rakha grunts. The smell of blood from the eviscerated mimic is still plucking angrily at the strings of her brain, and it is taking most of her available effort to retain control of herself. If this is Minsc, Jaheira can handle the reunion without her.

(Part of her is intrigued, attentive. Just as she has been led to believe, she can already see something of herself in this huge behemoth of a man - the rage and edge of madness in his eyes. The brute force ripping and tearing of flesh and teeth. But there will be time to understand that when she can breathe again.)

Let Jaheira reveal herself.

Jaheira steps forward, letting her boots click loudly against the marble of the floor. Minsc stiffens at once, turning to look up - and his eyes widen, seeing her face.

"You..." he hisses.

There is something strange in his eyes - it does not look like happy recognition. Surely Jaheira sees it too - but just as surely, she doesn't want to. Her smile takes on a forced quality. "Stone Lord?" she calls down teasingly. "Better to call yourself Stone-Head."

(A/N: For once when I say in my writing that there's a long silence, I actually mean it - there was a good fifteen seconds of Jaheira and Minsc just staring at each other with Minsc looking increasingly puzzled. XD )

A long silence passes, during which Minsc's expression shows his inward struggle to parse what Jaheira has said. Then his expression goes very dark, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Your false face does not fool my eyes!" he roars. "I will cut until you look like the monster you are!"

The words resonate inside Rakha's head. The beast keens eagerly. Yes, cut, cut, cut... spill her blood, spill all their blood, rip out their throats and then we shall rip out yours, Minsc of Rashemen--

Jaheira's brief moment of relief has vanished. She has gone utterly still and a muscle is working in her jaw. "Somehow you are making even less sense than usual," she says hoarsely.

And then a voice, all too familiar, echoes across the vault. "Perhaps I can explain!"

It's Jaheira's voice.

And at the far end of the room stands... Jaheira. Or someone who looks like her, at least. Her skin shimmers with the lingering Weave-ripples of the teleportation spell they have seen before, the one used by the Absolutists and the nautiloid. She raises one eyebrow, her lips curled in an unpleasant smirk.

Understanding once again cracks through Rakha like a whip. A shapeshifter - one of Orin's doppelgangers, this time wearing Jaheira's face. But not quite her manner; the smirk is too hard, too cold, and her voice rasps with a disdain that, even in the worst moments, Rakha has never seen from her companion.

"The Stone Lord sees through your lies, shapeshifter!" she barks up at Jaheira. Her voice rings like a bell in the high-ceilinged room. "Count yourself lucky he cannot stay." She turns the sharp edge of her glare down towards the dwarf next to the dead mimic. "Nine-Fingers set a poor trap, little banker. Let the Absolute's faithful show you how it is done."

The Weave rocks. From every corner of the room, figures with weapons and spiked armor shiver out of the dark. Absolutists. Bhaalists. Rakha's staves are out in her hands before she has fully registered what is happening.

"Now come, Stone Lord!" the imposter barks. "We have the gold - and the Absolute has need of it elsewhere."

For a long moment, Minsc does not move, just looks up at Jaheira - the true Jaheira - with narrowed eyes. Then he turns. "As you say, Jaheira," he rumbles. Crossing the room with a few enormous strides, he moves to the imposter's side.

The imposter's smirk widens. And then there's another flash of dark energy, and they're gone, and the cultists begin to close ranks on all sides.

Jaheira has gone very pale with fury and alarm. She pulls her scimitars free, but there is no time for her to do anything but watch as her friend disappears in the Absolutists' company.

"Stlarning shapechangers!" she roars, almost matching Minsc in thunderous volume despite her smaller frame. "Enough - let us deal with these cultists, then find out where they are nesting!"