#you're the victim of my shallow emotions

[kazucee]

It's me and my favorite moots against the world, YK who you guys are ♡

[indi-glo-archive]

ppl who only conditionally care about child abuse based on whether the victim makes them uncomfy while they're being abused contribute to a real life child's abuse by sending hate asks regularly, attempting to gaslight them, calling them terrible names, accusing them of terrible things, telling them directly how much they hate the characters the child relates to and enjoys talking about, and being generally racist and ableist in a way that seriously might have scarred me for life, making a literal teenager hate their hobbies, favorite shows, and the people who enjoy those things, and ultimately cyberbullying a child out of multiple fandoms because they don't want to think critically or acknowledge their own faults, all while being 35 and really embarrassing themselves because someone half their age has a better grasp on the concept of nuance than them: more at 6

but noooo, y'all "love neurodivergent/disabled people," have "racists/ableists DNI" in your bios, and don't say slurs, which is all you have to do to not be racist/ableist, so *I'm* some psycho black bitch and you're a wittle angel like the fictional character you infantilize

(P.S. I swear to fucking god if people respond to this post with "but he sexually assaulted someone" and ignore literally every other personality trait/experience he had that could've been relatable to a child abuse survivor and the way people mistreated me, a real human being, which Charlie is not by the way, I will start doing the things you wanted to do to Ben)

[thatbitchery]

Unlearn the dumb idea that inflicted pain justifies your reaction to it. It doesn't. Ladies elite women make it because we have a level of stoicism that borders on sociopathic apathy, exhibit A: we don't react to triggers we mimosa, sleep, see if it's worth it then logically make decisions. The idea that when someone does you dirty you have the right to react based on emotions so you're angry mad throwing names & hands sending texts talking sheet & other loser girl things is dumb dumb. You're not justified to react. 'They did me wrong' . So? Sit down, watch Netflix, wait for the emotions to pass then use the head God so generously gave you + that pretty face bonus.

When you react to people doing you wrong you give them the permission to bypass their actions & focus on your reaction so if your bf cheats on you & you start screaming sending 1b texts making titktoks he can bypass his cheating & focus on you're immature you're abusive why did you hit me you're mentally unstable you throw things around bla bla & will never face what he did. When we say be non reactive we aren't asking you to be a stone we are asking you to be smart. Do you want to get manipulated? Abused? Sit down get a manicure & go for brunch. Run to your room scream cry anhiliate your pillow but when they're watching its Elsa Lite, froooozen ice queen don't let them in don't let them see, ever.

One tactic m3n use in divorce court is to get the lady so triggered she loses her cool then it's look at her could you live with that? I'm taking my child this is an abusive woman & men don't leave relationships they just trigger you into irrational behavior and use that as an excuse & crying is worse what did we say about public vulnerability? Go cry to your bestie and God in your house out here tears are a sign to bully you. When you're not reactive you throw THEM out of balance and you hold the cards, once you go 'right to my opinion I'm the victim' we'll find you a grave bc that's called social suicideeee.

Two friends. Real life story here, ladies. Ah high-school back in the good old days.

We call them Allie and Sara. High school circles were tight so you're friends with someone you're also friends with their bfs, right? Alice & Sara both got cheated on (by m3n looking like area 9 failed experiment Shrek cosplayers but that's not thepoint). The bfs know that they were discovered. Allie, Allie is that girl. Drama girl. Find him in cafeteria & make a scene girl. How could you cheat on me you suck your pp is short anyway bla bla watch me devalue myself. Allie feels good in the moment, her bf leaves and tell his friends of course i cheated that girl is crazy. Would you date someone like her? So immature. Women are so ovarical I can't handle it. Evening the story is- she was abusive. She hit him & threw words in public imagine in private? He's been protecting her in silence, you know women can be abusive too.

Sara, Sara my love. Sara sits next to her Shrek Lite boy and says hey so that girl you kissed, Jane was it? She's pretty. You have taste. End of story. After lunch her Human experiment failure boy says let's talk she says sure abd listens with 'mhm' and nods. She meant nothing babe she seduced me I'm an adolescent what can I do bla bla. She nods says okay and goes to class. Days goes as usual. Evening we get dinner , Weekend we do research for our papers & talk college. Is she talking to him? Yes. Painfully polite, painfully. No emojis no nothing just shallow dry polite texts. Let's talk about this babe- is left on blue ticks. Monday morning her factory reject lookalike is losing his mind, she's being painfully polite, in a shallow way, so he resorts to triggering. It's because you're like this you are like a man and I'm straight I need a woman bla bla. She says OK then turns to the next person & did you hear about the trip to the beach? Of course I'm going. Boy realizes that's not working & resorts to Allie behavior- throw a tantrum in public make yourself the victim why won't you give me the pleasure of being the one to push you to your edge? Sara says babe pull yourself together you're embarrassing your family. Do you need your anxiety meds? My therapist is good she can treat hysteria are you okay? No this isn't like you, this is hysteria babe do you need psychological help? No this isn't normal , hey do you guys think it's normal to do this? I'm calling your mom babe we are getting you a mental check hold up-

Heres a little secret. In private? In our dorms? Sara was BAWLING her eyes out. Chocolates & Styrofoam cups. We are talking 3am on the bathroom floor. In public?

Guess who won.

Unlearn the idea that you're entitled to reacting to others actions to you, you're not. Learn to hold your tongue and tears and smile and Elsa don't let then in don't let them see then call mom and spend the rest of the week in her arms crying. The amount of women I've seen triggered out of their jobs, marriages, houses, parenting &c when they were 10000% the victim from lack of emotional intelligence is unforgivable.

Dont, be dumb. Don't let yourself think you have the freedom of expression, you don't. Not in the way you want to. Go write a poem but remember everything you say can and will, in fact, be used against you.

Non reaction is the highest level of power in existence. Mind over body. Logic over emotion.

[l0vergirlatheart]

play ; promise by laufey

thinking about blade with a terminally ill lover. an immortal paired with the one he cannot keep and will lose faster than anyone else he has ever lost before and he knows it. he knows he shouldn't be with you, to protect what little he has left of his sanity and mentality, but how can he when you're so bright?

how can he stop loving you when you are the only thing to bring light and love into his cracked soul, seeping into the depths of his heart?

his hands are stained with blood, but yours are too. the only difference is that yours are stained with your own.

he is defiled and murderous, and he will walk a darker path once you're gone, and he knows it. you do, too.

thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions, he thinks to himself as he watched you fast asleep next to him, hand hovering over your face before he laid it against your waist.

he wants to make the most of your last moments.

[urlocallesbiabs-reblog-sideblog]

it's interesting how comedy shows will have early-series horrible characters blame all their horribleness on some stupid thing, thus appearing shallow and blame-shifting, and then later series come out and it turns out that actually the character was right and that thing did fuck them up in the most serious and life-affecting way, it's just that they didn't know how to talk around their trauma and it came out all jumbled, and no one around them took any looks further because hey, who wants to mess with a messed up person?

like, rimmer's entire deal of "my high-class parents weren't high class Enough and didn't send me to the academy and that's what stopped me from success i so rightfully deserve" is just his best, albeit terribly distorted, way of saying that throughout his entire childhood he was unloved, uncared for, repeatedly demeaned and lowered and abused and physically tortured by his very own closest family, and that left him terminally uncapable of processing failures or emotions or human relationships in a normal way.

or eleanor shellstrop from "the good place" (warning for spoilers ahead): there was a bit in season 1 when she still thought this was the good place, where she had an awkward dinner with a demon and "the real" "eleanor", and that girl told her the long-winded story of how she went through every earthly suffering imaginable and still came out kind and righteous, so that prompted the demon to ask just what could've happened to our eleanor to render her so callous and egoistic and a terrible person, and all that she had to say was that her parents got divorced, which sounded like the worst most pathetic excuse ever heard.

well, so. later it turned out that it Was her parents who fucked her up. but not only the divorce — it was the neglect, the utter lack of care and love, the honest to god mental and physical abuse through them ignoring the needs of a literal small child; it all ran so fucking deep, it genuinely harmed her. but she was unable to articulate any of that, because she had to convince herself that her childhood was normal in order to carry on. she gave them her best, working, lacking-any-self-empathy version of events, and no one asked her further. some people are just bad because they're bad and making up excuses to hide it, so what of it?

if you're not a perfect victim, if you're ugly and struggling and hurting (yourself and others), if you can't articulate your trauma in a logically consistent, easily processable, emotionally touching way, no one's gonna listen to you. but also no one owes you any listening when you're being a difficult, horrible person, causing problems for everyone. who's to say that the people who hurt you weren't imperfect victims, hurting themselves and others?

there's no coherent moral to this post, tbh. life's just unfair, innit? and comedy shows have a good way of portraying that.

[leolithe]

Something I find really interesting about the Lotus' dialogue after the Lotus Eaters is her use of the word 'witch'.

"I was the Daughter. I became the Mother. In time, I shall be the Witch, blind once again, empty of all but wisdom." -Lotus

'Witch' has very specific connotations. Close enough to another similar word that I can't help but feel like it has to be a deliberate reference to the Triple Goddess ─ Maiden, Mother, Crone. These are figures from neopaganism that symbolizes the stages of a woman's life. Eleanor (proto-Nyx) even outright calls her the triple-faced goddess. While it definitely could just refer to Lotus, Margulis and Natah, what if we have yet to see her final form?

She was first Natah, the daughter of Hunhow. Then she assimilated Margulis' form and became the Lotus, mother to the Tenno. And now, she is to be the witch. Even urging us not to mourn should she turn into something we don't recognize. I'm very excited to see what exactly that will look like for her and how her role could potentially change. The quest made a point that the Operator will be staying behind while Drifter is the one chosen for the quest to 1999. Maybe instead of the mother-child dynamic that we've had for a decade, we'll get to see what kind of relationship she might have with the Drifter (<-copium)

I'm not much of a Greek Myth Lorehead but I've read up a bit on The Triple Goddess Hecate (who I've been told that, in Hades 2, was voiced by Amelia Tyler... who is now also voicing our dear Eleanor Nightingale. Worth mentioning cuz u just know rebb was kicking her feet and giggling at being able to pull that together). Hecate's status as a gatekeeper type figure, as i understand it, is very interesting when u apply it to the Lotus...

I'm just thinking about how meta the whole "Lotus' ascent to godhood" plot thread is. It's like a direct parallel to her voice actress' "intern to creative director" journey LMAO. It's a bloody golden opportunity and i hope they're cashing all in on Goddess!Lotus and everything it'll entail...

Not to mention lorewise and what it means for the Lotus' own arc!! To be someone constantly being pulled around by others to fulfil their own purposes, having her own wants neglected, shamed, belittled... To becoming a Witch/Crone/Gatekeeper a la Hecate -- now the one potentially capable of denying or approving others' needs and goals...? Ugh, that's so fucking JUICY. What a bloody incredible character.

Lotus mentions becoming "empty of all but wisdom", and I've seen someone theorize that she'll become even more emotionless and distant as a shield against Wally because it thrives on emotions. This theory scares me because it could very well happen... Not like Space Mom already has a history of being distant and reluctant to tell us how she's feeling... *Sniffles*...

There's also the theories about assigning Natah/Lotus/Margulis as the Maiden/Mother/Crone...

The most surface level reading would be Margulis = Maiden, Lotus = Mother, Natah = Crone, but imo when people make this read they're kinda hinging on their appearances lol. Pretty Margulis, "Ugly" Natah... Maybe even just "Good mom who can do no wrong" and "evil Sentient who led part of an assault on the Origin System".

I would like to think that it isn't that shallow, buuuut their personalities do fit the bill when u bring the "phases of a woman's life" theme to it.

Margulis' naivete, or the shattering of it, as the Maiden:

"No, Ballas, no more destruction. Maybe they're meant to save us."

"You lied to me, Ballas. You're no different than the rest of them."

Natah's headstrong wisdom, or her desire for it, as the Crone:

"I am the witness, the victim, the judge. My family has returned. Your trial, soon to begin."

"The times ahead will need decisiveness. Power."

And Natah does die in TNW. Her death is a very big part of the quest lol. The "End of life" theming of the Crone fits her very well... And the very first "gatekeeper/crone judges and makes the decision for you" thing she did was killing ballas. So i get it!

Inversely... You could also assign Natah as the Maiden and Margulis as the Mother because of the simple "Natah was the Daughter, now I am the Mother" quote. After all, Lotus before TNW was living very much under Margulis' shadow, assimilating into her like you mentioned. This read leaves Lotus to be the Crone; the empty, wise Witch we have yet to see.

The more i write this the more I wanna say: Damn. These 3 were always meant to converge into each other. Their stories are all sides of each others' respective coins and it almost feels arbitrary to chuck them into strict roles, even if symbolic.

I definitely think we're gonna see her "Triple Goddess Final Form" in the future. It's too good a story beat. Too sexy. DE HAS to do it. I have my platinum ready. Give me all the skins.

As for the DrifterLotus copium....... Hehehe. I don't think DE will ever do anything romantic/sexual with them. i think they're just gonna cap their relationship off at "they care immensely for each other" because they might be concerned about the questionable pseudo incest implications looming over anything to do with Lotus and the Tenno.

Like don't get me wrong; Drifter is their own person and Lotus of all people would be comfortable with the concept of "people having identical faces won't make them the same person". I just feel like DE might not be willing to play with them in that way. For perfectly understandable reasons... The Player Tenno are very much "colouring book" characters for the OC lovers so it seems smart to keep them relatively open-ended.

But. Don't worry. Check my AO3 at the end of the week. I hope you'll find something that brings u even a little bit of cheer ;3

[dandymaximilian]

🪞 Mirror Man Analysis 🪞

Mirror Man is a perfect example of showing instead of telling, imo. His words themselves are often larger than life or egotistical, but his actions behind them showcase an underlining vulnerability, desperation, and self loathing.

And, in my opinion? Mirror Man is just as much as a victim as Claire.

When we first see Mirror Man's full silhouette, he is in a very confident and reassured position. He looks like he is in control, getting Claire's attention with just a few words. "You're not going to walk by without saying hello?"

Mirror Man goes on to mention that "they're going to be kicking themselves." He desperately wants attention from others, and we can see this anxious energy in the way he nervously kicks his foot. And especially when he demands in a demonic sort of voice: "LOOK AT ME."

In the next sequence of events, we start to see Mirror Man's already shaky facade crumble. He sees himself as Claire through his reflection, super imposed on her body and hiding her face. As we know from the end of the short film, she is in a cycle of abuse.

His mirror selves smile, trying to pass off like everything is fine and dandy. He compliments himself, then immediately insults Claire on the only part of her he sees. It appears like this is mockery, but the next shots says otherwise.

When Mirror Man fidgets with his hand, then clenches it into a fist, his vulnerability is first revealed. He immediately back pedals on his insult, saying that there "isn't anything wrong with (her ankles)" Essentially, he is projecting his insecurities onto Claire.

Mirrors Man then says, "It's just... nevermind, my brain." He knows what he's saying isn't healthy, or right, yet he seems to find himself unable to help himself. He copes with this uncertainty by "fixing" his reflection, and the demonic voice reappears. His inner demon.

Mirror Man appears to spend a lot of time in the bathroom, as it is indicated at the beginning sequence with his array of beauty products. Yet, he says that "(he) often find(s) (himself) at (his) wits end in (there)." Like he doesn’t think he has any control over the matter.

Mirror Man rambles about his "journey" and how he is "a tiny, growing... thing." Junveille music boxesque music plays, hinting at his emotional immaturity. He seems to be somewhat self aware of his actions, going so far as to admit his faults in a roundabout way.

But Mirror Man never truly owns up to his mistakes, justifying them to Claire, his audience of his reflections, and ultimately, to himself.

Mirror Man proceeds to insult himself again, adjusting his mirror to cope with the sudden self loathing. He further infantilizes and justifies his actions to himself, saying "(Claire) can hold (him) in the palm of (her) hand." Ultimately, trying to claim that she has some power over the situation.

His inner demon sparks up once more when Claire attempts to leave, and he tells her that she "can spare a little more time." And she "acts like he's a complete stranger." As Claire's mother hints at later on, Claire rarely leaves the attic anymore, refusing to "be a person." Therefore, he is desperate for her attention.

He goes on to say how "everyone is mad at him," and that he is "growing." A lot of people may interpret Mirror Man as Claire's father, but to me, I think he's still quite young. Not in the sense of being a child, but being a man in his 20's trying to figure the world. A brother.

Mirror Man doesn't understand why people are "negative", and "see him the way they do", which seems like the most honest thing he says in this sequence. He truly does not undertsand why he was "turned down" by others. And if he cannot fix his personality, then he'll fix the next best thing.

His physical appearance.

The following song is when his true character is revealed. Try to sing his song outloud, and you'll notice that you'll need to take in a lot of shallow breaths. Your voice will pitch and crack. I think this singing method is meant to mimic a panic attack, brought about Mirror Man's own pain and feeling of inadequacy.

Mirror Man rambles about what he needs to accomplish to be revered, or even liked by others, but his words are empty. His own coping mechanism, or delusions, have convinced him that all he needs to be do to receive positive attention is to be larger than life, akin to God. If no one loves him the way that he is, then he will be something better.

Mirror Man is determined to create a rift in the world, even if he needs to fake a smile and look beautiful. If his words are rambling and his brain doesn't work how he wants, he will find control elsewhere. He picks at himself until he is bloody, until he is caught up in the whirlwind of self obsession disguised as self care.

In the end, the lyrics make Mirror Man appear like he has a superiority complex or narcissism. If he has narcissistic personality disorder, then it must be noted that people with this often have low opinions of themselves in reality.

In the end, I think everything stems from Mirror Man also being a victim of abuse. Interestingly, Claire is terrified of her grandfather and mother, while she is only unsettled when Mirror Man puts himself down and begs for her attention.

What would that mean for Mirror Man?

In my interpretation of the mother's flashback, a younger Mirror Man realized the prison-like conditions that he and Claire were in and tried to ask for help by calling for 911. His mother got angry, hitting him as punishment, all while a crying baby Claire watched.

Mirror Man mentally crumbled from the pain of her abuse, traumatized by the event. His mind dissociated from it all. His literal viewpoint of himself has been permanently altered in this moment.

The answer from 911 must've went nowhere, because Claire and him are still there. Claire takes Mirror Man's place, hence why her face blurs onto his younger face in the below shot. The many clocks indicate the passage of time as she slowly becomes the new household punching bag.

The mother repeated the cycle of her own mother's abuse, but she did nothing to stop it from happening. She lives with guilt, taking drugs with her alcohol to cope, and projecting her pain onto her daughter. Smothering Claire, while also expecting her to be her caretaker.

It is too late for Mirror Man, or so he secretly fears. His psyche has mentally shattered like his mirror, and his false ego, his reflections, and Claire are all he has left. Unfortunately, Claire is following the same path of using an outside source to find attention and love where there is none.

[radioactivewisdom]

“Weird that there's women out there who would rather I be homeless while disabled and pregnant in order to perform feminism better

Rather than live in a stable home and perform "domestic and emotional labour" for a male who will "eventually snap" and kill me (and apparently this is an event to be relished)

Because we should all be assuming that our relationships will end catastrophically (that's a fair and normal thing to expect of any partner)

And if we dare think our partners won't abuse us we're "victim blaming" women who have ended up in abusive relationships because we think we're "smarter"

Do y'all have this energy for lesbian relationships that go wrong? I know the stats are different, but we still would have the occasional lesbian come into the shelter due to DV reasons, would you advise they also live in critical fear for the rest of their lives because of their emotional or sexual attachment to a sex where a member could cause them harm? If your lesbian partner makes you feel safe and secure and you don't feel threatened - are you "smarter" or "better at recognising the signs" than a lesbian who has been subject to abuse?

Because honestly the stats don't matter a damn if you're the one the dice fall on.

(And I might add, it's an extremely shallow version of DV, that narrative that it only changes in an instant, one day they just "snap". Sometimes it does, but sometimes there's a history of abuses other than violence, sometimes it's violence from the beginning, sometimes it's little things that you don't even notice until you've spent many years apart. No matter how or when it started, how long it has been going on, or who the perpetrator is, these women deserve all the support they need.)

I live in a right wing country where the cost of housing is immense I would *literally* be homeless. My therapist once told me “There’s taking reasonable precautions and then there’s outright paranoia and I think you know which this is”. I think the issue is many people seem to think men are born evil and not raised to be sexist or misogynistic. “The outcome is the same” but the mechanism also means the outcome can change depending on family and society. If they are evil and always have been and the only option is separatism then logically we would not have made our previous gains. “

I hope you change your perspective

Yes, it is weird that women continue to willingly engage in relationships that are likely to harm them. They know the risks, as do you, since you’ve just spent time explaining them thoroughly. You’ve decided that the potential harm is worth it though, as do many others. There’s nothing anyone can do for autonomous adults who engage in dangerous behaviors. People make bad decisions on the daily, dating men is one of them. Try and train your dogs, but don’t expect me to care when they bite. You seem to believe that this wide scale and persistent behavior is a mistake and can be fixed. Go ahead and good luck. I can’t help you, and my approval is unnecessary. Live the life you chose confidently, the collective is already backing you up.

[mightdeletelater]

I often think about the absence of parasocial relationships in my life. To be candid, I believed I had outgrown them. Celebrity culture is something that I have come to dislike a lot. I really try and refrain from investing excessive energy into one-sided and distant connections. We all have our moments every once in a while, though. Last night, I stayed up to watch Usher's halftime Super Bowl performance. I enjoyed it, sang along to my favourites, and that was that.

The gravity of current global events, particularly Gaza, really makes me reassess.

Amidst countless headlines celebrating the Chiefs and Taylor Swift's love life, my attention remains fixated on the bombing of Rafah by Israel. Rafah, a place where civilians were told would be safe was heavily targetted all the while Israel ran a propoganda ad during the biggest annual sporting event in America (newsflash: if you can afford to run ads like last night's during the biggest NFL weekend, then you're not the victim, sorry). The juxtaposition of reports from Gaza during a Super Bowl served as a stark reminder of the world's pressing issues.

I don't advocate for people to cease enjoying sports. That's lame and not realistic. But I urge us (myself included!) to scrutinise our relationships, especially parasocial ones. These one-sided relationships, where emotional energy, interest, time, and, worst of all, money are directed towards an entity that is unaware of the other's existence, permeate our society.

Adults may believe they are immune to such connections. But many still form strong bonds with sports teams, athletes, artists, actors, and online influencers. Adult men especially will make fun of teenage girls for their interests but have the same one-sided relationship with athletes and Twitch streamers. They are not free from it. None of us are. It's all the same. These relationships wield such influence over us as individuals, and they truly transcend age and gender boundaries. Addressing this issue requires a collective effort to de-emphasise or, ideally, render parasocial relationships unnecessary.

The dismantling of community structures has exacerbated this problem. The decline of social organisations, the lack of third places, the consequences of suburban living, and the increasing loneliness point to a broader societal issue. As our communal ties weaken, we not only experience individual isolation but also lose collective influence over our lives. Political and economic forces contribute to this isolation, making it challenging to resist gentrification and maintain connected communities.

How many of us constantly think about these systemic issues? I understand that this being at the forefront of our minds would be extremely exhausting, but we should at least be aware, no? Depoliticization and a plethora of distractions, from social media to celebrity culture, is really limiting us, as individuals and as a society. I am not sure if I am ready to go down the full conspiracy rabbit and say that these distractions are intentional political tools, but they do serve capitalists seeking profits from individuals seeking connection and fulfilment in the frankly very fucked up world we find ourselves in.

Substituting real relationships with parasocial ones may seem convenient, even momentarily fulfilling, in our current environment saturated with online connections. Yet, these connections prove to be shallow and hollow substitutes for genuine human connection, intimacy, and collective participation. On a personal level, it is time to intentionally prioritise meaningful relationships with neighbours, coworkers, family, and friends. On a communal level, we must build and rebuild structures and organisations that facilitate collective gatherings, fostering connections and consolidating our collective power for positive change.

As headlines continue to feature Taylor Swift, the Super Bowl, the Oscars, etc... I believe that there should be an urgency in redirecting our attention to critical issues, such as Gaza and the recent attack on Rafah. While transitioning from a world dominated by parasocial relationships to one marked by justice, connection, and peace may seem daunting, it starts with individual efforts – reaching out, engaging in one-on-one conversations, and building relationships. Over time, these personal connections will empower us to act collectively, contributing to a world where inter-connectedness and reciprocity prevail.

[licncourt]

Licncourt you're right as always about female coding and you hit the nail on the head about Louis!

My opinion about Lestat is that he was portrayed as the stereotypical bad woman: vain, shallow, cruel and foolish but beautiful. But he was also a victim whom the narrative constantly forces to forgive and love his abusers because that's the only way he becomes worthy of being loved. It happened with Magnus, Akasha, Armand and also with his father (the only time Lestat didn't want to forgive someone... but was pushed to do so) It's frustrating if you think about it, because that's what society expects of women.

I'm really glad you think so!! He's so girl to me but in the right way, not the Anne Rice way.

I was sooo happy when I read this because !!! You are absolutely onto something here that should be examined further. There's some overlap between Louis and Lestat for sure when it comes to female-coding, both of them being portrayed as over-emotional and somewhat effeminate etc, but it's really cool how the rest contrasts in such an interesting way, like a Venn diagram. I've talked plenty about Louis being pretty directly analogous to the stereotypes of a lustful, weak-willed, hysterical woman whose primary assigned value is beauty, but there's a LOT to say about Lestat too.

I love what you said here because the first part really feels like a throughline tying Lestat to the women who helped established the Bad Woman archetypes in the literary canon like Medea (vindictive and treacherous), Lady Macbeth (power-hungry for personal gain), or Delilah (a calculated honeytrap for "righteous men"). In spite of his anger and mistreatment of Louis, most of Lestat's flaws in the trilogy are strikingly feminine in the literary sense. He's quite literally portrayed as a cruel, shrill gold-digger who dickmatized a rich husband and trapped him with a child.

Yes, he's an angry, domineering man, but it's the impotence behind his anger that pivots towards the stereotypically feminine. Throughout IWTV, he's all bark and no bite, yelling, whining, throwing books and sulking, even having an affair to punish Louis for his coldness and lack of affection versus anything more direct and aggressive. It really reads like the idea of a bitchy housewife tormenting her husband while trying to get her way and take revenge.

In addition, I really like the comparison of him with the wicked mother archetype, a maternal figure who poisons the daughter with her own trauma and anger (Clytemnestra-esque) and creates another monstrous woman in her own image. I've mentioned this before, but I think the creation of Claudia can be read symbolically as a conception, pregnancy, and birth, Louis draining her as a sort of insemination that's useless on its own but is "gestated" or made into a whole (a vampire child) by Lestat/his blood. In those terms, Lestat is immediately set up as a mother figure to Claudia, then again later when she's situated as a direct rival and narrative parallel to him. Generational trauma is passed from Gabrielle to and through Lestat and into Claudia as if he was also a daughter in the chain.

In terms of victimhood, what you said is also very interesting because it's one of the few places where this female-coded Lestat slips through and re-emerges really prominently in late canon despite AR's attempts to masculinize him. In trying to redeem him and make him "perfect", she puts him back into the feminine role with the societal expectation that a woman should forgive her abuser and take the high road, empathize with him even, especially in religious communities (interesting considering AR's wild rollercoaster ride with Catholicism). It's as if Lestat's disdain for Magnus is an unpleasant loose end she needs to tie up so he can be "good" now.

I think it's interesting too that the only abuser that the narrative doesn't ever give a sympathetic sort of pass to is Akasha, the sole woman who inflicted this kind of abuse on Lestat and a victim of bodily exploitation in her own right. Even the Marquis receives the narrative's sympathy as a repentant old man, even Magnus the monster. Not Akasha though. She's just a bitter man-hater and Lestat has to choose whether he wants to be also.

(Btw this is such @nasnyys business and what he screams into the void about every day so I'm making him a part of this. Everyone go talk to him about Lestat and evil woman allegories.)

[ihatetheinternetandeveryoneonit]

Tainted: An Amateur Blend of Astarion Angst and Smut

In which the master seducer gets out-seduced and has a big crisis over it.

Note: Finally the full fic is cooked and ready to serve. My first smut, and it's relatively light smut because that ended up being the least interesting part of this fic and it shows. So if you come here for the angst instead, you're less likely to be disappointed. I might mirror onto AO3 if I'm sufficiently bullied into it.

Rated Explicit 18+ Soft service FemDom Tav /Switch Astarion, brief hj, bj, and piv Warnings: dissociation, flashbacks to torture, allusions to forced prostitution and branding, Astarion wants sex but it's complicated™ Enjoy under the cut!

Astarion stepped out of the trees as he had rehearsed a dozen times that night. "There you are. You've had me waiting."

Tav smiled at him in the moonlight, her arms and hips swaying playfully as she approached. They both met within arm's reach of one another as Astarion leered into her eyes.

"Waiting since the moment I first laid eyes on you. Waiting…to have--"

A slender finger pressed against his lips.

He glared at her, drawing his brows. How dare you! Really. You want me to just shut up and have your way with--??

"Quit trying so hard," she chuckled.

'Trying so hard?' Hardly! It worked on you, didn't it? And hundreds more!

He tried to keep his face even, hiding the storm that was always brewing in his head each time he did this. But this time it wasn't that she was bedding him, it was that she was insulting him while doing it--probably without even knowing it.

A single kiss jolted him from his brooding. A kiss very unlike the wet greedy prodding kisses he had had countless times. Or the timid virgin kisses he had experienced hundreds more. This one was a single kiss right on the tip of his cupid's bow. Chaste, yet electrifying.

Paralyzing.

It drew a shallow gasp from him, prompting an impish grin from Tav as she pulled away.

What was she doing?!

The moonlight danced in her eyes for a moment, before she leaned in again. Hands snaking up his neck, fingers slithering up his scalp, gently pulling his head down for another kiss--this time on his brow. He took it as a prompt to smooth his wrinkled forehead, to release the growing tension from his face.

This was wrong--somehow. He couldn't quite pin down why.

An unconvincing scoff was the best he could manage. "What's next, darling? Holding hands?"

Tav broke the kiss and looked down at him, rolling her eyes with a smile. Her fingers traced back down his neck, his shoulders, lightly ghosting down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her eyes followed her fingers, and Astarion gazed anxiously, trying to read those eyes in vain. Her fingers intertwined with his, and she gently pulled his hand up to her face. A playful smirk, and another kiss landed on his knuckles.

Some dark feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach. The reigns were gone now. He had no comeback this time.

"Are you alright?" She rested her chin on his fingers.

Stop it. He wanted to say.

"Yes, I'm fine!" he said abruptly.

She stepped back, blinking in confusion.

"Just…!" He sighed sharply, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her in, kissing her the only way he knew: Deeply. Intensely. Waiting for her to melt into his embrace like they always did.

Eventually, she did. Uncertainly. Perhaps even reluctantly. His victims didn't often react like this but it always put a knot in his stomach whenever they did. They never wanted any of this.

He never wanted any of this.

But if anything, Cazador probably found that all the more gratifying.

Why am I even thinking about him right now??

Just do it.

Just ignore it.

Stop thinking!

All mantras he told himself and prayers to Tav to keep just keep going along. Dreading the moment she would push him away and he would have to look at her.

An increasingly familiar sensation pushed into his mind. Prying. Seeking answers that would not satisfy. Her tadpole linking with his. He could feel her emotions. Anxiety. Confusion. Concern.

Concern?!

To hells with her concern! His tadpole violently banished hers from his mind.

Get out!

As her tadpole withdrew, so did Tav, breaking their kiss with a full step back.

"I had a feeling something was amiss. What are you even doing?" Tav murmured.

A fair question, actually. Astarion stared over his shoulder at the first thing that caught his eye--a tuft of grass--still dreading the notion of meeting her eyes.

"Did I knock you off your rhythm?" Tav gently teased.

"Heh." was the only syllable he could manage.

"Look," she gestured to herself. "You got me here. Consider me seduced. You don't need to keep trying to convince me how beautiful and charming you are."

Then why was she making him doubt it? Why was he the one left like putty in her hands? Powerless?

Astarion dared to look at her. Her tadpole had only skimmed a sliver of the surface, it seemed. Sure, he was starting to doubt his own beauty and charm tonight, but Tav had no idea that she was the reason.

He had worked this hard, planned it all out, his first time where the target and the outcome was his choice. 200 years of practice at seducing pretty things, only to be immediately outclassed. She had instincts he didn't have--instincts to wrap a lover around her finger so effortlessly, put them at ease. An ease that paradoxically set him on edge. He would have been jealous if he wasn't so intimidated by it.

"A--uh," Astarion calculated his next words carefully with an artificial smile. "A sophisticated woman like you doesn't come around often."

Tav rolled her eyes with a friendly grin.

"I'm sorry," Astarion pouted playfully. "But I just knew I had to pull out all the stops if I was going to sweep you off your feet."

Tav raised an eyebrow, reaching for his shoulders. "I don't know how you could possibly think I wouldn't want you, silly. Just give me a moment to make you feel good, too."

His unbeating heart lurched uncomfortably. He'd heard that promise before, but this time he was starting to believe it.

"Could I convince you to relax?" she cupped his cheeks in her hands.

He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

She got onto her knees, gently pulling him to the ground with her. Her hands caressed his neck and shoulders.

It took Astarion a moment to realize what Tav was doing. He laid down, trying to enjoy the way Tav had to lean over him now.

"You know, if you're looking for my erogenous zones--"

"Shhh." She began kneading his muscles--and he suddenly realized how tense they were.

He really wasn't used to this.

Cazador's touches used to mock him with gentleness before beating and tearing into his flesh.

But still…

There was something here that his master's depraved mind could never hope to mimic. Something he couldn't quite articulate.

"W-why…?"

"Hmm?" Tav hummed.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what, massaging you?" Tav chuckled.

"Well…yes."

Her hands paused. "Do you want me to stop?"

Astarion hesitated a moment, and closed his eyes. "…no, actually."

She continued to rub deep into his neck, releasing a soreness to the surface he hadn't even realized was there, before it dissipated into her fingers. He let a small contented sigh escape his lips. The vulnerability was nauseating, but he couldn't help himself.

"I just want to know why you're…?" He finally dared open his eyes and gaze at Tav.

She blinked at him. Something about the question had her taken aback.

"Well," she quickly resumed her work on his shoulders. "Isn't it the point of us messing around? To feel good?"

"Ohh, THAT'S why we're having a roll in the hay!" Astarion conjured a smirk. "I almost forgot."

"Cheeky." Tav rolled her eyes and sat back as Astarion got on his elbows. "Now turn over."

A sudden chill gripped him. "…Turn over?"

"Yes, let me get your back."

He froze in place for a moment, before something automatic in him obeyed. He loathed himself for it immediately, burying his face in the grass. All those years, he had taken great care that they never saw his back. He never allowed it. His fingers clawed at the dirt.

This is different. It's all different now.

Was it, though?

The air felt still and chilly. Tav hadn't touched his exposed back. Stripped only to his waist, he still felt more naked then ever under her eyes. He never knew just how bad the scars looked, but he was sure they were stark even under the dim moonlight.

"Well?" He growled into the dirt.

Silently, cautiously, her hands returned to his neck and shoulders, checking their completed work before drifting down.

"Does it hurt?" Tav asked, running a firm palm up his spine, brushing each bump and ridge as gently as she could but the friction was unavoidable.

"No," Astarion lied.

Every corner of his mind willed in vain for his muscles to relax, only for them to spasm. Mercifully, it only took two attempts at working his shoulder blades before Tav gave up, realizing that each touch only knotted his muscles further. She tapped his arm and he took it as a queue to roll back over.

He really couldn't meet her eyes this time, fixing his gaze on the stars. But he could still feel Tav searching his face.

"You're beautiful, you know." she finally said.

Those words rang hollow in his mind. Not because she was lying; she sounded sincere. But she said those words like a reasurring friend rather than a starstruck lover.

He had no power over her.

He had no power.

He was like a trembling virgin under her. Did she know that?

But they had already gone this far--and Astarion was loathe to end the night on such an awkward note. He swallowed his humiliation and reached for her waist, squeezing the fabric and flesh underneath.

"Thank you," he said, finding his most convincing smile.

She returned the smile, apparently satisfied that she had reassured him from some vain little insecurity about those unsightly blemishes on his back, and let his hand guide her hips to straddle his waist.

The relief was palpable as he fell back into his rhythm. He grabbed a handful of her shirt and pulled her down for a deep kiss, groping her breast. She fell right in line, leaning into the kiss and ghosting a hand over his ribs.

Astarion pulled Tav's shirt over her head before rolling over her and removing her pants.

He appraised this conquest in her full glory. He had taken so many pretty things to their last ecstasy, and this one would have certainly been a candidate if her timing had been less fortunate. But he had a feeling that she may have instead led him to his own doom.

Not that he would complain, all things considered.

She pushed him off and pounced on top, decorating his body with her kisses. He threw his head back, feeling the sensations, begging for them to wash over and carry him away. He just needed to get out of his head. Focus on her. The way she seemed to take inventory of every gasp of pleasure he made, as Cazador had taken inventory of every shriek.

Astarion shut his eyes, screwing his mind to focus on his own skin. Tav traced the lines of his lower abdomen, awakening a warm arousal.

It was his pleasure. All his.

And yet, it still didn't feel like his.

Her hands explored his hips, her mouth explored his waist, teeth tugging at his pants. Astarion groaned and grabbed a handful of her hair.

"Eager pup," He rasped.

Tav scoffed, warm breath sweeping across his skin. "As if you didn't grope and strip me of every thread just now."

Astarion shuddered as her lips found where his belly met his pelvis.

"Make some noise, lover boy." Tav murmured between kisses. "Let me hear you."

"Shut UP, boy! The more you scream, the more I'll have to do over." Cazador never made mistakes. It was always something Astarion did that made his blade slip.

Astarion forced out a stifled grunt.

Tav sighed. In a single flick of surprising strength, she yanked his trousers from his hips, which earned a proper yelp out of him.

"There we go."

The blood Astarion had drained from that bear last night, which still left him quite full, rushed to his cheeks. He felt his cock twitch.

"You're so warm tonight," Tav mused, settling herself between his legs.

This was a very different kind of attention, he had barely touched her, and already--

Tav traced a lazy finger up an engorged vein, studying his face.

Astarion hissed and threw his head back. He gained some composure but his voice was strained. "I get cold when I haven't had blood in a while."

"Hmm, I'll have keep that in mind." The pad of Tav's finger circled the head and his eyes fluttered shut. "You do look rather cute when you're full of blood. All rosy."

If that counted as praise or just really good flattery, Astarion was getting too delirious to tell.

"Perhaps I should volunteer to keep feeding you myself." Tav's voice lowered to a rasp. "Would you like that?"

Damn, she was good. Astarion found himself nodding

"Would you?" She asked again, squeezing him gently and eliciting a gasp from him.

"Would you like me to stop?" Cazador dragged his dagger through Astarion's flesh. "Are you still screaming like a child??"

"Would you like to taste me, every single night? Drink me to your fill? "

"Only if you taste me first," Astarion blurted out the first comeback he could think of.

Tav didn't miss a beat. She devoured him down to the base.

His elbows collapsed under him. He arched his back and shoulders from the ground and cried at the stars above. A frantic wandering hand found her hair and balled it in a fist.

She swallowed around him and a pathetic little whine erupted from his throat. Caressing fingers ghosted his hips in encouragement.

Tav bobbed her head up and down at an excruciatingly slow pace. Each time releasing him from her mouth but still tracing a tongue at his tip before mercifully consuming him again.

Astarion groaned. "Ugh, I…don't think I've had a lover ever go this slow!" Probably a lie. But then again, he couldn't recall any memories to the contrary.

Tav smiled around his cock. "Good," her voice was muffled.

He groaned again in impatience, pulling at her head down to get some pleasure and some semblance of control.

Tav gagged on him, "Alrighh, alrighh!" she said around his cock, bobbing faster.

His pleasure quickly mounted. But when Tav dug her nails into his hips, it went beyond him.

A high strained whine escaped his throat, barely holding the urge to come as he shoved her off of him. "Not yet!"

Tav leaned back on the grass, enjoying her handiwork as Astarion panted to regain his composure.

"I like those cute little noises you make." She cocked her head and bobbed a leg from side to side. Trying to look coy. And succeeding.

"I'll show you cute little noises in a moment." Astarion lowered his voice to a growl.

"Oh, will you now?" Tav smirked, already playfully on her knees before he could jump on her. Clever girl. Astarion scrambled to his own knees.

They were at this strange sexual impasse. Two seducers, going toe to toe in this intricate little dance. And if they were keeping score, Astarion was lagging behind.

"You're a vision." Astarion coughed up the first hollow compliment he could think of, eyes quickly scanning her body. It was enough to make most of targets go weak for him.

Tav smiled kindly but impatiently. She leaned forward into a kiss. Running her hands up his arms, to his shoulders. Without warning she fell back, pulling Astarion on top of her.

Oh, this he could do.

He pressed his body over hers, letting her close her eyes and softly moan at the sensation of skin on skin. Vulnerable. He nibbled at her ear, her jawline, her bottom lip. His tongue prodded for entrance then artfully danced in her mouth.

He trailed kisses down her jaw, mingling at her neck, flicking his tongue across her collarbone. At length, he settled his face between her breasts, deciding that the left one was his favorite. He began to gently nip at it, while he palmed the other breast.

Tav hummed, either in quiet satisfaction or a hint of impatience.

Astarion contemplated teasing her, but truth be told he just wanted this over with. His kisses drifted to her sternum, to her stomach…before slender fingers tugged at his ear. He looked up at her.

Tav regarded him for a moment. "I want to see your face. I'm ready."

Again, feeling as intimidated as a virgin, Astarion slowly slid back up her body, trying to muster the courage to look into her eyes.

He propped his elbows on either side of Tav's head, and reluctantly his eyes flickered to her face.

She had a warm, reassuring smile.

Astarion couldn't stop himself from clenching his teeth. What was there to reassure, anyway? He didn't care how experienced Tav could be, his body count would still dwarf her own, guaranteed.

Tav's brow began to furrow before Astarion dipped his cock just beneath the surface of her entrance. She let out a shuddering moan, letting her eyes close.

Fucking finally. He had her.

A dip out to coat himself in her lubrication and then he slid fully in. Tav's lips parted and she gasped, her eyes now half-lidded, and their bodies began to rock together.

Astarion never claimed to be the biggest, so it didn't take long at all for her to adjust to him before he propped himself up and picked up the pace.

He pumped his hips into her, rolling them just as he had been taught. He hesitated a moment to straighten his back. Why did he still care about keeping form? It wasn't like he was back at the manor. Back at the "parties." There was no Cazador here, watching to provide any "feedback" later.

He shut his eyes and thrust into her at a rapid pace. Numbing his his mind, his favorite thing to do was count the thrusts until his mark came. He had counted to thirteen before Tav interrupted him.

"Astarion?"

Astarion's attention snapped to reality, but his rhythm was too practiced to falter, though he was a bit peeved to lose count. "What is it, pet?" he panted.

She stared at him as he continued to thrust into her, but her face showed no pleasure. In fact, it was frustration.

"What's wrong?" Her voice lowered into something so serious it was nearly comical in this situation.

"What do you mean?" Astarion wore a lazy smirk, trying to angle himself to hit an ever-so-popular spot, that ought to shut her up.

"Get off."

He paused and looked at her scowl. Yes, she was serious.

Furious, Astarion pulled out and shoved himself off. His first time choosing to have a roll in the hay, the first time he didn't have to think about his body being someone's death sentence. Only to be brutally rejected like this.

All those times, he wandered now, was his allure even him? Or was it some spell from his master?

"What do you even want here?" Tav sat up in a huff.

"What do you want?" Astarion shot back.

"I don't know," Tav narrowed her eyes at him. "Maybe to feel like I'm wanted?"

"Why do you think I invited you here?!" He spat.

Tav shrugged in exasperation. "If I wanted a well-oiled piston, I'd buy one from an artificer!"

"It's called skill, darling." Venom began to drip from his words. "Maybe one day you'll know what it looks like."

"Fuck skill, give me enthusiasm! If you're not enjoying it, then what's the point?!" Tav shook her head, scrambling to her feet. "If fucking me is such a chore, then you're relieved."

"Wait." Astarion reached out, but Tav was already out of his grasp. But she mercifully paused to look down at him.

His mind was a flurry of thoughts. "How…? You think I wasn't enjoying myself?"

Tav rolled her eyes. "I've had to fake it a time or two. I know what it looks like."

So she was one of those who cared about it being "real." But hells if he knew what real looked like anymore.

"But why do you care?" He frowned at Tav.

"Because I'm…sane?" She wrinkled her nose. "Not deranged? What kind of question is that?!" Her voice grew heated in offense. But after a pause, she softened a bit and sighed, sitting back down.

"Look, I'm not gonna ask any more on…whatever is going on with you right now. But I like you--so far--and there's no point doing any of this if you're not enjoying it. You'll be miserable, I'll be unsatisfied, and we'll both waste our time."

She treated this like it was basic, obvious. Maybe it was.

Gasps, moans of pleasure, nails digging in--those were just feedback to Astarion. His way of knowing that he was doing the right thing, touching the right spot. All those times seeing their pleasure was the goal, but never the prize.

It just then hit him. How utterly broken he was. A perfect mechanical doll, with skills honed to a degree that a courtesan could only dream of, but the part of him that would know something so fundamental as sharing pleasure with someone--broken.

He laughed bitterly.

Tav got dressed quickly, and stared down at Astarion. He was practically catatonic, lost in these thoughts.

"Here," she offered a hand.

He took it wordlessly and she pulled him to his feet, handing him his pants.

"We can try another night, if you're up for it." Her voice was so gentle.

He hated it, being treated like he was so fragile. But maybe he was. He didn't want to contemplate that possibility.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt so humiliated putting his clothes back on.

"Well, I'll…" Tav looked uncharactaristically awkward, and frankly Astarion found it unbecoming of this dangerously charming companion of his. "I'll see you at camp."

She stepped back, studying his face one last time before walking back into the trees towards the distant firelight.

Astarion backed up into the nearest tree and slid down, not even caring how it scraped his skin.

And for the first time in a very long time, Astarion allowed himself to shed a frustrated tear.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

way down we go (i)

a/n: this was not requested but I couldn't for the life of me get the idea out of my head. this can be considered a dark!fic bc of the events and plot points so please read the warnings before reading! I hope y'all enjoy! also, I already have part 2 written so this is one series you don't have to wait weeks for an update, only a day 💜

word count: 1.4k

warning(s): graphic depictions of crime scene/dead body - murder - blood and gore - this isn't really a happy fic - I'm not the fondest of writing things that show serial killers in a romanticized way so this...isn't going to end well - people die in this guys - if you do not like blood or anything to do with death do not read this - even though I absolutely love forensics I am in no way an expert and all my info comes from my singular forensic class and all the forensic files I watch - this is fiction plz don't come for my inaccuracies - (reader also does profiles bc why not)

pairing(s): forensic scientist!reader x serial killer!Agatha

prompt: your relationship was picture perfect. you're happy and in love but one crime scene brings your love crashing down around you. (I'm not good at descriptions)

You knew you would never escape this feeling.

The chills that ran down your spine as you walked through the scene, the only sounds being camera shutters and shuffling footsteps of your team, the way the air was suspended around you, imitating the way you held your breath. You forced your emotions into a box and shoved it to the back of your mind, your eyes turning from sympathetic to analytical, necessary for your job. The only one who noticed the change was your Crime Scene Photographer, Darcy. She pursed her lips at you, tilting her head towards the bedroom, acknowledging your shift into your role of head CSI.

This scene was different than the others, you immediately noticed as you crossed the bedroom threshold. Blood took over the wallpaper, staining the costly vintage pattern. The body lay face down on the bed, stab marks on the back, mostly shallow and jagged, indicating a struggle had occurred. Your thoughts were proven as your eyes scanned over the blood spatter. This victim fought back, causing a fight your killer hadn't anticipated.

She was the tenth one this month, the bodies being found more and more frequently, the killer getting more confident.

"Y/N."

Your name sounded behind you, making you turn around. Lead Detective Jimmy Woo stood with a grimace on his face, eyes expectant. You nodded as you brought him over to the side of the bed, where you could see the wounds better.

"This one is different, Jim. The scene is a mess, the body mutilated and uncharacteristically stabbed, not to mention the lack of sophistication."

You turned from the bed and walked over to a pile of cleaning supplies, crouching down and cocking your head to the side. Your eyes widened when you noticed what had caught your eye. Pulling out your tweezers from your toolkit hanging by your side, you called out to Jimmy, asking for an evidence bag. As he handed it to you, he asked an important question.

"Then how can we be sure it's the same killer."

Without hesitating you answered.

"The victim fits the profile. A woman in her early to mid 50s, lives alone, estranged from family," you nodded your head to the dusty photographs on the dresser, now decorated by dried drops of blood, "and the cleaning supplies, the same ones we know for a fact were used at the other scenes."

As you bagged the strand of hair, your mind thought back to the other crime scenes. The bodies of the victims lying in bed, dead for days or weeks at the longest, the rooms cleaned meticulously, the only mess being the crusty blood stains from the single slit mark on the women's neck. You thought that those scenes were the worst, but now as you looked around, you knew you hadn't seen the worst of humanity yet.

Handing Jimmy the evidence bag, which he passed on to the officers on the scene, you stood up.

"Forensics is done here, all pictures taken, swabs done, and now all evidence is bagged. Help me roll the body over."

Your plastic gloves were already soaked with blood as you and Jimmy rolled the victim onto her back. Jimmy choked on what he saw. You merely sighed. The slit on the victims neck was jagged but shallow. The scene played out in your head. The killer did the normal business of coming from behind with the knife, but this one struggled, making the cut not deep enough to kill. The killer pushed the woman onto the bed, trying to suffocate her with the pillow but she kept struggling. Finally, the killer resorted to stabbing the woman until the act was finished, even some post-mortem. Then, instead of having time to clean the scene and position the body, something unexpected happened. Someone visited the victim, the young next door neighbor who felt sorry for the elderly woman who never saw her family. The killer had to rush out the back, leaving countless pieces of evidence behind and ruining weeks of planning.

"Let's get her in a bag, make sure to contact the family and ask for her will and wishes upon her death."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the drive back to the station and your team's lab, you allowed yourself a moment to text your wife.

You: Hey hon, I don't think I'll make it for dinner. I might stay the night.

You let yourself slip information, a breach of protocol but you trusted Agatha.

We finally have enough to catch this bastard.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sounds of reporters never stopped as the hours passed, your team logging and entering every piece of evidence from this scene and past. You ran every single strand of DNA evidence you had through every database you had legal access to. Monica Rambeau, your secret weapon when it came to, well, weapons, made multiple 3D replicas of the suspects height and body weight, using the angles of the blood spatter and the stab wounds. You and your team had discovered a separate blood profile in the mix, a break that had you desperate for a culprit. Now you sat in front of the equipment in your lab, the rest of your team resting while evidence was being processed and while the detective went over profiles and case reports, looking for details they might've missed.

You kept yourself from drifting into sleep by scrolling on your phone. When you opened your messages, your brow scrunched together. Agatha hadn't responded to your text, leaving it delivered. Frowning, you started typing but realizing the time, you thought she would be sleeping. Maybe you missing dinner tonight had struck a nerve with your wife. Sighing, you slumped in your chair, practicing your apology in your head. You knew it wasn't common of you to miss dinner, so maybe she had something special planned for tonight, even if it was nowhere near one of your birthdays or an anniversary. But that didn't mean anything, maybe it was a surprise date night. You were so lost in your worry, you almost didn't hear the ping from your computer indicating a match. You read the results, a hint of surprise at the determined sex of the killer. You started to type some notes in an email for Jimmy when your computer indicated it had found an 94% DNA match in a database. You paused, your hands still hovering over your keyboard as the killer's picture came up on your screen.

Time suspended around you, suffocating you as your vision tunneled. The buzzing of your phone broke you out of your stupor and with shaking hands you opened the message from your wife.

aggie❤️: no worries about dinner love, how's the case going?

Your eyes flickered from the text to the picture on your screen, your wife's cold blue eyes staring into your soul. You hesitated before you answered.

You: not well. everything came up a dead end, ig it's back to square one.

You put your phone face down on your desk, quickly exiting out of the page, your wife's picture replaced with your background. Which did nothing to sooth your rapidly panicking state, as it was your wedding photo. You slammed the power button, relief flooding your body at the black screen. With shaky hands, you cradled your head.

This can not be happening. You thought, pinching your arms, desperate to wake up from this vivid nightmare.

This

Can

Not

Be

Happening.

Your phone buzzed with your wife's reply and you read it through blurry vision.

aggie❤️: im sorry to hear that hon. text me when you're on your way home <3

Normally, the heart as the end of the text would send butterflies ablaze in your stomach but now all it did was sending waves of nausea coursing through you. Were there signs you missed? Something you overlooked through the haze of being in love?

Were all these women dead because you were too blind to see what was in front of you the whole time?

You stood up suddenly, your chair crashing behind you. Darcy rushed in, concern lacing her actions.

"Y/N, are you-"

"I have a migraine. Staring at a screen for too long and all that." You cut her off, even giving a slight chuckle at the end to play it off. Darcy still looked concerned but let you gather your things and walk out of the lab.

"If anything comes up, I'll call you!" she called out, not knowing her words caused your stomach to hardened.

As you went to walk out of the station, you noticed Jimmy had recklessly left his gun and holster on his desk.

You walked out of the station, pulling your jacket tight against your body as you got into your car.

No one had noticed Jimmy's gun was no longer on his desk.

a/n: ok I really hope y'all enjoyed this bc ive been waiting to write it for forever!! part 2 will 100% be out tomorrow bc ive already written it lol. I like writing true crime/mystery fics or fics with the same vibe so hopefully I did it well!! thank you for reading and I love all of y'all so much <3 sorry I haven't been writing that much

[bellaaldamas]

Back when I was active on my old accounts here (before deleting them all and vowing to never come back but the joke's on me) I knew Tumblr was a heinously ableist site (as was it's girlboss idea of "feminism", only accessible for women and girls with physical, mental, learning and neurological ability privilege). I accepted it because we do not live in a perfect world, people will be misguided and uninformed, some of said people are not incurable, devil incarnate bigots but simply ignorant; and it is your responsibility to curate your social media experience and surround yourself with intelligent individuals. If you depend on social media OR mainstream media for representation you're in for stress and disappointment and that's exactly why one has to always maintain a healthy distance from it.

However, it is almost fascinating to see how pseudo-progressive culture on here has not changed one bit. It is still the modern Disney-esque "feminism" about how it is woman's job to not be a "hormonal moron" who dares to exercise her romantic and sexual agency by expressing her feelings and acting on them (according to said Disney/Frozen-esque feminism, she is making a "perfect victim" out of herself and allows more intellectual and creative men than her shallow and airheaded self to easily take advantage of her "desperation for love"). Tumblr is also still disgustingly ableist, with new disability erasing trends becoming prevalent here.

One of the newer "feminist" trends is the "get a hobby" one, delivered in a condescending, holier than thou manner and completely removing disabled and/or neurodivergent women from the equation.

It is the good old "not like other girls" misogyny but in a "progressive" form. To be worthy of being acknowledged as a human being deserving of basic respect a woman HAS to be writing a novel, painting daily, studying programming and coding, making sculptures that could rival the immortal classics - and that's called a "feminist" alternative to "bimbos who do nothing all day, binge shows and only care about make up".

Needless to say, the people who subscribe to this trend know they are excluding disabled women entirely. They know that for women with physical, mental and learning disabilities most of the "popular/acceptable" hobbies like novel writing and content creation are simply either inaccessible or not rewarding enough to produce the necessary dopamine and energy to keep on with them. But progressives still find brand new "feminist" ways to dehumanize us because "progressive culture" enables it.

Speaking as someone who used to write novels and poems and draw in the past: I, as a disabled woman, have exactly zero hobbies right now. All the writing and drawing are yesterday's news for me and will remain there until the day I die. I've gotten older, my disabilities became worse and more energy consuming and I have neither time nor emotional/mental resource to practice activities that, no matter how much effort I dedicate to them, I will never excel at.

The harsh truth is that if you have limitations or lack a natural talent you will end up with a burn out and with modest or even outright terrible results.

The "progressives" will use a classic bigoted rhetoric of "if X famous disabled person could do it and become a worldwide sensation there is no excuse for you to not try" in order to shame you. But, young ones, don't fall for that. It's just a "progressive" version of "marginalized people only have themselves to blame for not being successful".

Because the fact is that the overwhelming majority of us will never excel or succeed at writing, drawing or learning graphic and other programs to a degree that would allow us to compete with able minded and able bodied people. Some, as mentioned above, do have a natural talent (and a high functioning form of disability) which would make them an exception that only proves the rule. But most of us will invest ten or even thousand times more time and energy into learning than able people would, only to get little to no pay off. And it is perfectly fine if you say "to hell with it, I'm just going to watch movies all day instead".

It does not make one less valid (regardless of gender) to give up on a hobby or activity because it no longer brings them the satisfaction of achievement (especially when there has been no achievement to beging with). Go ahead and do that make up because you'll look in the mirror and smile when you see your face. Go ahead and flirt with that person you think is hot because you only live once. Go ahead and binge watch Sailor Moon and love Usagi for her love of sweets and refusal to conform to the idea she has to sacrifice herself for the Greater Good TM in order to "grow up" and hate the narrative for constantly shaming her for that because media hates women and will always hate women.

Go and do what makes you feel good and if you ever consider coming back to your hobby/hobbies, do it not at the expense of your mental or physical health but because you want it.

[thewarmestplacetohide]

With gore and such in horror movies, particularly where the victims are women, where do you typically draw the line between genuine horror and just torture porn? I've seen a lot of debate about the Terrifier franchise in light of the new one - I've not seen any of the movies, and I'm also not super well-versed in horror film in general. What do you consider gore/slashers done well?

this is going to be long and a tangent. apologies ahead of time.

1 - i rarely, if ever, use the term "torture porn." i think it's a means of classifying movies that needs to be retired.

this is not a criticism of you, just to be clear. it's just that:

i have seen people apply it to fantastic movies solely because they disapprove of/dislike gore. this unfairly maligns films while perpetuating the idea that violence is always cheap, tasteless, and without purpose or meaning.

i have also seen it used to frame horror fans as twisted "degenerates," which is very ugly when you consider horror is often used to challenge societal norms, and many horror fans are marginalized people. additionally, liking gory movies =/= approving of real violence or being turned on by it.

on the flip side, using it as a classification can also lead people to overlook issues present in many horror movies. calling Cannibal Holocaust, for example, "torture porn" is reductive in its own way. it ends the conversation. it says, "this was bad because it was shallow violence," when, in reality, it is so much worse than that as a deeply racist and misogynistic piece of media that exploited indigenous people and facilitated real animal abuse.

2 - i can't really draw any kind of universal line. the necessity of gore is a film-by-film issue. rather than asking, "is this movie too violent," i typically ask "why does this movie feature graphic violence? what does it do with it?"

graphic violence can be:

used to portray horrific historical events honestly (ex: Come and See),

used to drive home points about violence, those who perform it, and/or those who endure it (ex: Pan's Labyrinth, Lady Vengeance)

used to evoke strong emotions from shock and disgust to grief and rage in audiences (ex: Oldboy, The Sadness)

exaggerated for comedic effect (ex: Evil Dead II)

and/or implemented solely to show off impressive effects work and artistry (ex: Terrifier 2).

3 - women being victims of violence in horror movies is not inherently misogynistic. i'm not saying you're implying this, just pointing out that this is a fact worth keeping in mind. i've seen people act like violence is inherently anti-woman solely because it's happening to a female character, which is ridiculous.

i can also personally watch movies with problematic elements, like misogyny, if i enjoy other aspects of them. what matters is that i consume them critically.

4 - i do want to clarify that i dislike Terrifier. i find its plot shallow and most of the performances bad. it's just a vehicle for violence that, imo, is far too directed at women. it left a bad taste in my mouth.

at the same time, i enjoyed Terrifier 2, which i thought was flawed but sincerely funny with a great villain and some awesome special effects. (even then, there is an overly-long torture scene that i found weirdly mean-spirited and uncomfortable to watch as a woman).

5 - i'm not the best person to ask about slashers! i like some but it's far from my favorite sub-genre. off the top of my head, some good proto-slashers are:

The Virgin Spring (1960)

Psycho (1960)

Blood and Black Lace (1964)

and some good slashers are:

Straw Dogs (1971)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

Deep Red (1975)

Alice, Sweet Alice (1976)

Halloween (1978)

Opera (1987)

Scream (1996)

Inside (2007)

Sweeney Todd (2007)

Eden Lake (2008)

Midnight Meat Train (2008)

The Loved Ones (2009)

Dream Home (2010)

The Woman (2011)

Green Room (2015)

Don't Breathe (2016)

Hush (2016)

Revenge (2017)

Halloween (2018)

Darlin' (2019)

Pearl (2022)

as always, i recommend checking for trigger warnings before watching films.

[let-us-cultivate-our-garden]

Why is it that every time there's new material that points to a more sympathetic take on Belos' backstory (i.e. seeing Caleb go into the graveyard portal so happy without noticing him), there are fans who act so zealous and knee-jerking about it, saying that Belos doesn't deserve even a moment of sympathy?

I mean it's not like fans (most of them anyways) who take are saying Belos is justified to do his witch genocide. He's still a villain. Still wrong and immoral. The only difference is that Belos isn't the pure evil monster that fans make him out to be. Just a horrifying, monstrous figure born from common human emotions and rigid upbringings, things that hit close to reality.

In all irony, I think that if you change the word "Belos" into "witch", a lot of these retributive justice statements start to sound awfully like the villain they're all rooting against. Says a lot about our justice system.

I believe there are two factors at play here: the first is that a lot of the fans in this fandom are relatively young and tend to have a dogmatic view of things. I'm willing to bet that the people who think that Belos doesn't deserve an ounce of sympathy and the people who think that merely enjoying villain characters speaks to your moral rectitude are going to be similar, if not the same people. Those people have latched onto the idea that since Belos is an irredeemable monster, any kind of humanizing moment is the same as excusing his behavior. Which of course, is nonsense.

The second is framing from the story: The Owl House has gone above and beyond showing nearly every evil act Belos has done, how he has personally victimized several major characters, and is the sole cause of evil in this world. At the same time, they have created a very compelling, very tragic backstory but it was in the literal background in Hollow Mind and briefly shown again in King's Tide, but the audience never had time to process what was quickly being shown and we still don't have concrete answers to what exactly went down between Philip and Caleb, so everything has to be inferred and only the most dedicated Belos fans have done that. Belos' backstory was briefly told by Masha but that was quickly overshadowed by Hunter's possession. Because of this, casual audiences can take Belos at face value and focus on all the evil he has done and hate the character and ignore the more subtle portrait of him that is lurking just beneath the surface.

The irony is that the audience has a well, puritanical view of the character and any deviance from that is a form of heresy. I wish the writers had shown a more dynamic character earlier on and brought more of his story to the forefront so we could see how dangerous it is to demonize other people, even those we hate. This is basically how Philip became Belos; he allowed hate to consume him and refused to see any other way because it clashed with his ideals and worldview (that and the brother trauma).

I feel like if you only see characters one way, especially after getting new information that recontextualizes their story, then that is just a shallow way to interact with media. You're missing out on not only a great story, but a story that can challenge your preconceived notions and one in which you could possibly learn from. And it's only worse if the writers continue to justify one way of reading a character instead of expanding on that character.

My only hope for the finale is that we see a full portrait (or as full as we can get) of Belos instead of him repeating the same old tired shtick of possessing people.

Thank you for the ask!

[soleminisanction]

This might seem a bit out of the blue to you, but I just wanted to say your old posts about Stephanie Brown changed my mind on her quite a bit, even if I still don't feel quite as strongly about it as you seem to haha. Overall she's a character with some interesting potential to her backstory, but she's been written awfully over the years. Your points are all really well-argued, even though for me it's hard to look past the Doylist context of the choices made with her character; from plain poor writing to mysoginy to editorial mandates and whatnot, so it's tough for me to outright *hate* her, but when I put the Watsonian glasses on... yeah, she does kinda suck, and Batgirl 2009 is pretty darn shallow. And honestly, TimSteph shippers outright baffled me--well, no they didn't, a lot of their outrage at the breakup was just pure biphobia, but if I were giving people the benefit of the doubt and assuming they genuinely liked the relationship as presented from Rebirth onwards it's like... why tho. They're such a boring couple, leaving aside the toxicity of Post-Crisis because I don't know much about it and just ick. Idk what I'm even saying here. Just expressing appreciation for the effort put into your posts even if I don't agree with absolutely every interpretation, I guess. Keep on keeping on

Thank you. I appreciate you saying all that.

It's not like I'm unaware of the Doylist reasons behind all the events that happen in-comics, I just don't agree with the idea that the way to fix that is to brush huge swaths of a character's history under a rug. That's just not how you do it if you're trying to reclaim a character who's been sexistly victimized, not if you're doing it well -- they didn't do it with Barbara after Killing Joke, or Carol Danvers after Avengers #200, or Gwen Stacy when creating Spider-Gwen, or with Harley when transitioning her into anti-hero, and those all resulted in great stories.

And male characters have to deal with the aftermath of bad shit they pulled under other writers all the time. Wally West only just put a final capstone on the events of Heroes in Crisis last month. Over in Batman, Bruce is catching the brunt of fall-out from both the Babel Protocol and the Batman of Zur-en-arrh. Hank Pym got labeled an infamous wife beater because one artist misinterpreted a script direction. Roy Harper has only just recently gotten back everything that Cry for Justice took from him.

So yeah, I think it's only fair to do the same with Stephanie, and that it does the character a major disservice not to. More than that, it's lazy. The least amount of effort needed to get people on the internet to stop yelling at them.

Killing her off for Bruce's manpain and having her around, alive, but presented as a flat, perfect little Princess Badass with a bland "quirky" personality and no interests outside the immediate needs of the plot are both examples of sexist writing. If you want to engage with her as a character you need to embrace the fact that she can be kind of an asshole, that she's got negative emotions and bad opinions and shitty ideas and things that she just plain sucks at. Of course she does! She's human!

That's all feminist writing really means. Treating women like they're human instead of just a plot convenience. It should not be that hard.