#Christian likes to play a little with his victims before attacking them

[kittenchrissy]

I can smell your blood from a kilometer away

I can hear your heartbeat even in the noisiest room

I'm a hunter

You're a victim

You know what I mean?

...

RUN

[incarnateirony]

"I get a lot of support in private. People want to stay off his radar, so they don’t say it in public, but I did this for my fellow Destiel fans who hate how toxic his cult has made this side of the fandom." -- waitwaitwait, bringing toxicity to the destiel lane, being snide and petty and making others feel judged and mocked is supposed to be a good thing? in what world does deliberately perpetuating negativity = a plus for those who don't want a toxic shipping environment??

The people he's appealing to are, themselves, incredibly toxic people. They're literally trying to play victim for me reacting to 2po's doxxing attack on my server, where I left a simple message. Because while I don't declare who people can casually hang out with, I don't allow people trying to cause real world harm to just sit in my house. They literally feel entitled to treat fandom like a warzone, invade safe spaces, take shits on the floor however they want, and clutch their pearls if anyone puts up a boundary. Or like... defends themselves from doxxing or physical threats.

OH, or he could be talking about the people that tried to hijack admin permissions to delete my server just because they were told to stop chasing people across four channels to harass them, and this clearly was me being hitler and demanded a coup.

That's the kind of people he's uwu'ing on behalf of. All he does is bring persistent anti negativity into the fandom. Just scroll his goddamn WALL of his psych break of anti spam today, then he makes confused moose noises and tries to put on a 2 IQ confused innocent face going "IDK WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT." [spams gifs for a day until everyone forgets.]

What he calls a cult is "people watching the show," and "me having a limit on the abuse I allow people to subject me to within my own server, whether direct or indirect by exploitation and unreasonable emotional labor for people that aren't invested anyway."

Like. I can't emphasize enough this dude puts off rapist vibes. like. BEYOND his DM advocacy for RL incest. Boundaries are optional to him. Nobody is allowed a safe space. Nobody can defend themselves from him. It's fine for him to doxx whoever he wants, threaten whoever he wants, and spend the entire day trying to treat fandom like WWIII even with people trying to mind their own shit in their own space. But the fact that he isn't allowed to INFEST that space drives him batshit. The fact that every effort of breaking into my security permissions (A VERY STRANGE THING FOR SOMEONE TO DO THAT LIKES TO CLAIM I HAVE NO SOURCES) has washed out just makes him froth at the fucking mouth.

It's also why he's shaking like he has palsy worse than I do or something to deny the alchemists hired on set that. have it. in. their bio. and post. about it. As does the crew. While they all say it means something. But he is sitting here like literally shaking with rage, because that's ***WHERE*** his high pitched cult shrieking started, before he migrated it across to the audacity of me having a patreon (and confusing me with TheySilencedYou and coming at me about THEIR patreon). All while, of course, he himself was ripping dozens of thousands out of fandom to ride gold panels. Irony has no bounds.

That's ***why*** he can't accept any of this shit. Because well, that's where his fucking shrill teakettle noises started, and if people are telling the truth about pitches, it'd be awful awkward if the entire crew was tweeting out my mythos bible of the last four years nonstop, so NOBODY LOOK, NOTHING MEANS ANYTHING.

When you peel out his "MONEY GRIFTER" screeching at me bc I'm an artist with a patreon and compare it to his 50K fandom gold panel cruising; When you peel his "CULT, TRYING TO CONVERT PEOPLE TO WITCHERY" Christian Moral Panic shit out and compare it to the crew hired posting right now and Lata calling that shit out even in canon; All you have left is a very angry little incest-porn-watching basement dwelling man targeting an entire server of people with threats, doxxing, extortion and mass targeted harassment who has been goddamn wrong every step of the way and is taking out his fury on the people that were right the whole time.

That's it. That's all he is. Even his M&Gs aren't special, anyone could be a M&G funnel and probably better without blowing up his sources so easily like he did gayle and suzanne to make them followable for violations.

[project-paranoia]

Let’s Watch: Yin Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

I have watched this movie 85 Whole Entire Times and I do not regret.  The only thing wrong with this movie is that it wasn't a fifty episode series.  I cried, I laughed, I fell in love.  The cinematography is on point, the acting is amazing, the crew member who put snow on people's eyebrows did an amazing job, and the acting!  The subtlety, the gentleness, the love and affection, the discussion of race is one of the best I've ever seen.

As people have pointed out before in series like X-Men that fear of mutant's is practically if not thematically justified due to the laser eyes in a way that fear of ethnic minorities just isn't in real life.  In Dream of Eternity however humans are equally if not sometimes more super powered than the yao they hunt.  Demons - very much not in the Christian sense - are a mixture of spirits, resentful souls, and animals and plants who cultivated to human form.  They often appear human at first glance and in some cases the extent of their power seems to be the limited to turning into a smaller more vulnerable animal.  Qingming's deliberate care and gentleness not only reflects his upbringing as a Yin Yang Master, but parallels the experience of racial minorities labelled as aggressive.

The movie takes particular care as well in the way it looks at trauma, grief, and love.  The three of which haunt the main characters and send out ripple effects into the world around them.  In the world of Dream of Eternity no loss is purely private, it spools out into the world around the person effected until they make an effect to acknowledge and deal with their experiences.  Qingming's warmth and gentleness isn't just marked by his behaviour but by the orange light he's lit by and his variety of shishen - but he is also separate, standing alone in frame and facing away from the people around him.  Boya's loss has made him unforgiving and as cold as the blue light he's lit in, and yet he is open and instinctive, talking and acting as soon as the thought enters his head.  The Empress is lost and drifting, trapped and grief stricken, vulnerable to those who profess to love her.  The film is simple, it says and shows what it means when it means it - but it is also as complex as the very human characters it depicts.  

The movie is made even more complex by its pull from theaters.  Claims of plagiarism drench the edges of the movie, which as true as the assertion that Fan BingBing went on a spa vacation in 2018.  Although this blog is about Chinese censorship dealing specifically with BL content, Chinese censorship also effects those who criticize governmental policy.  I hope that supporters of this blog will also support Chinese media threatened by censorship for many reasons so that artists and others involved in film making can continue to make meaningful content.

Doing a watchthrough of a movie is not feasible, but please enjoy a few thousand words - with spoilers on Yin Yang Master included:

* That gentle chiming and rain soundscaping is so soothing, what a great way to calm and lull the audience before the movie even starts * Qingming is so small and isolated in the frame - cinema! * The lighting and cinematography is just so good * Shifu, soft gentle teacher * So much love stored in the Shifu * Instant grow * This boy is Sassy * This theme of deflection in Qingming's character is established early * Deflection with a teleportation portal and then immediately deflection verbally * Shifu is certainly an attractive man aged up, but his face is also soft and gentle, something to note when his double pops up later * Also the awkward question of don't you have someone you want to protect, maybe part of the problem is that shifu is just really bad at wording things * The answer that yes he does has several meanings, one of which is immediately apparent when Shifu acts out one of those Father Saves Child By Yeeting them youtube videos * ACtion MuSIC * I love them your honour * The spirit guardian's design is so specific and elegant, absolutely superb you funky little shishen * I wonder if Qingming ever thinks about that if he didn't come back with all his fellow disciples that Shifu would have been fine * Maybe it's not that he doesn't have someone he wants to protect and more that he believes that he's not capable of protecting those he wants to * subtle indication Shifu's qi is corrupted * Precious Magic Childe ;-; * The framing, I'm living for it * The Serpent graphic is lovely * Also the way they set things up * Qingming cares so much about his shifu * Mark Chao just has the ability to crumple his face like paper * Sad Time exposition involving the corrupting influence of desires * "When you're gone I'll be all alone" in just about all you need to know about Qingming at this point in the story * Also like, sympathy for Shifu in raising this lonely child.  By all accounts he was an absolutely superb father figure, and Qingming I'm sure was not an easy child to raise.  He's the sort of kid that would take a lot of calm and patience. * Slumber party! * It's kind of interesting that this is an activity Fangyue and He Shouyue are doing together.  He's definitely obsessed and in love with her and she's just doing friends and family activities with him * Also yellow/gold lighting is kind of their thing * It's interesting how they do the make up for He Shouyue.  The actor is very attractive, but they make him up to look doll like, a little too pretty, a little too shiny.  Like a porcelain doll. * Cool lit Boya and warm lit Qingming appear! * Camels! * The framing is so good, they're careful to be sure he's shown as obviously isolated as much as possible * And it should go without saying that I adore the City * The matte painting is outstanding * But there's also the lighting, the vignettes, the clusters, the foliage * It is a supremely beautiful set * The irony that Killing Stone is playing along with Boya's music and then it's Boya who kicks him around * A small note, but one I appreciate - even when Boya has warm highlight's they're red instead of orange * "It's Jason Bourne!" * I hope Qingming paid for that water taxi * It's interesting how Killing Stone goes from the safety of Qingming's orange light to the danger of Qingming's blue * Colour related foreshadowing! * Look at this poor sweet man, how could anyone suspect him of anything.  He's just a sad man who loves his dead wife * Qingming's use of a fan is interesting - battle fans show up all over wuxia and xianxia, but it feels like it also ties into the way he's so very careful in how he presents himself.  There's that quote that a sword can only be a sword but other weapons are also able to serve other purposes - not a perfect quote but the point is got across. * The way Qingming just knocks Boya back, like get An Clue, my dude * The way that Killing Stone curls around the pipa ;-; * So the movie is based on the book series 'Onmyoji' by Yumemakura Baku.  The books start with Seimei (Qingming) and Hiromasa (Boya) already in a relationship talking about various cases Seimei has recently experienced.  Plotwise, obviously the stories are different, however thematically Seimei and Hiromasa discuss why some yao stick around and solutions to the difficulties and dangers they might cause - which is generally from Seimei's very successful perspective to listen and treat them like humans.  So in that way the plots of the books and the movie are quite different, but the themes are just about identical. * Boya says Don't Talk Me I Angy and also that demons don't have feelings and Qingming's face takes out a billboard that's just like Ah, Another Fantasy Racist, Excellent * Qingming also does what should be done in this situation, taking care of the victim not the racist * Fight scene!  Fight scene! * Qingming's first few moves aren't to attack, they're to distract and just hold his fan up to block Boya's way and his view - it's only when Boya persists in attacking that Qingming fights back * Qingming's sassy smile, he is very much deliberately irritating Boya as much as he's refocusing his attention and distracting him * "nICE sWORD" * I've sighed that sigh before * This boy is taking great pleasure from teasing Boya, but also he makes a really good point * I understand and relate to what Qingming did, but also I can understand why Boya was ready to throw rocks at Qingming when he saw him again * Killing Stone lit in Qingming's orange light again * Killing Stone, my beloved * A good gauge to the state of the world for yao is no one has told this sweet boy before that demons have feelings too * There are several lines like this in the movie that just drop kick you with Implications * The same way Qingming clung to Zhongxing, Killing Stone wants to join up with Qingming to have some compassion in his life * The way he asks to be a spirit guardian is so formal too, and Qingming is so gentle with him, I cry ;-; * The warm orange light of Qingming's love ;-; * He heals the wounds * It took me an embarrassing amount of time to realise it's the actual imperial degree speaking and not one the of Jingyun Temple Masters * The mutual this guy again is delicious * "Is it because of your pretty face" * Boya draws his sword so fast and Qingming is so amused by it * Longye!  Queen!  I love her! * The two of them seem to understand each other instantly * Those sassy little smiles * He Shouyue looks even more like a doll than before * Longye has her head on a swivel from second one, she plays the Maiden so well like she's not a skilled master * And her customer service smile * Qingming is shooketh

* What happens next?  You'll have to watch and find out!

[theshedding]

Lil Nas X: Country Music, Christianity & Reclaiming HELL

I don’t typically bother myself to follow what Lil Nas X is doing from day to day, or even month to month but I do know that his “Old Town Road” hit became one of the biggest selling/streamed records in Country Music Business history (by a Black Country & Queer artist). “Black” is key because for 75+ years Country music has unsuspiciously evolved into a solidly White-identified genre (despite mixed and Indian & Black roots). Regrettably, Country music is also widely known for anti-black, misogynoir, reliably homophobic (Trans isn’t really a conversation yet), Christian and Hard Right sentiments on the political spectrum. Some other day I will venture into more; there is a whole analysis dying to be done on this exclusive practice in the music industry with its implications on ‘access’ to equity and opportunity for both Black/POC’s and Whites artists/songwriters alike. More commentary on this rigid homogeneous field is needed and how it prohibits certain talent(s) for the sake of perpetuating homogeneity (e.g. “social determinants” of diversity & viable artistic careers). I’ll refrain from discussing that fully here, though suffice it to say that for those reasons X’s “Old Town Road” was monumental and vindicating. 

As for Lil Nas X, I’m not particularly a big fan of his music; but I see him, what he’s doing, his impact on music + culture and I celebrate him using these moments to affirm his Black, Queer self, and lifting up others. Believe it or not, even in the 2020′s, being “out” in the music business is still a costly choice. As an artist it remains much easier to just “play straight”. And despite appearances, the business (particularly Country) has been dragged kicking and screaming into developing, promoting and advancing openly-affirming LGBTQ 🏳️‍🌈 artists in the board room or on-stage. Though things are ‘better’ we have not yet arrived at a place of equity or opportunity for queer artists; for the road of music biz history is littered with stunted careers, bodies and limitations on artists who had no option but to follow conventional ways, fail or never be heard of in the first place. With few exceptions, record labels, radio and press/media have successfully used fear, intimidation, innuendo and coercion to dilute, downplay or erase any hint of queer identity from its performers. This was true even for obvious talents like Little Richard.

(Note: I’m particularly speaking of artists in this regard, not so much the hairstylists, make-up artists, PA’s, etc.)

_____

Which is why...in regard to Lil Nas X, whether you like, hate or love his music, the young brother is a trailblazer. His very existence protests (at least) decades of inequity, oppression and erasure. X aptly critiques a Neo-Christian Fascist Heteropatriarchy; not just in American society but throughout the Music Business and with Black people. That is no small deal. His unapologetic outness holds a mirror up to Christianity at-large, as an institution, theology and practice. The problem is they just don’t like what they see in that mirror.

In actuality, “Call Me By Your Name”, Lil Nas X’s new video, is a twist on classic mythology and religious memes that are less reprehensible or vulgar than the Biblical narratives most of us grew up on vís-a-vís indoctrinating smiles of Sunday school teachers and family prior to the “age of reason”. Think about the narratives blithely describing Satan’s friendly wager with God regarding Job (42:1-6); the horrific “prophecies” in St. John’s Book of Revelation (i.e. skies will rain fire, angels will spit swords, mankind will be forced to retreat into caves for shelter, and we will be harassed by at least three terrifying dragons and beasts. Angels will sound seven trumpets of warning, and later on, seven plagues will be dumped on the world), or Jesus’s own clarifying words of violent intent in Matthew (re: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 10:34). Whether literal or metaphor, these age old stories pale in comparison to a three minute allegorical rap video. Conservatives: say what you will, I’m pretty confident X doesn’t take himself as seriously as “The true and living God” from the book of Job.

A little known fact as it is, people have debunked the story and evolution of Satan and already offered compelling research showing [he] is more of a literary device than an actual entity or “spirit” (Spoiler: In the Bible, Satan does not take shape as an actual “bad” person until the New Testament). In fact, modern Christianity’s impression of the “Devil” is shaped by conflating Hellenized mythology with a literary tradition rooted in Dante’s Inferno and accompanying spooks and superstitions going back thousands of years. Whether Catholic, Protestant, Mormon, Scientologist, Atheist or Agnostic, we’ve spent a lifetime with these predominant icons and clichés. (Resource: Prof. Bart D. Erhman, “Heaven & Hell”).

So Here’s THE PROBLEM: The current level of fear and outrage is: 

(1) Unjust, imposing and irrational. 

(2) Disproportionate when taken into account a lifetime of harmful Christian propaganda, anti-gay preaching and political advocacy.

(3) Historically inaccurate concerning the existence of “Hell” and who should be scared of going there. 

Think I’m overreacting? 

Examples: 

Institutionalized Homophobia (rhetoric + policy)

Anti-Gay Ministers In Life And Death: Bishop Eddie Long And Rev. Bernice King

Black, gay and Christian, Marylanders struggle with Conflicts

Harlem pastor: 'Obama has released the homo demons on the black man'

Joel Olsteen: Homosexuality is “Not God’s Best”

Bishop Brandon Porter: Gays “Perverted & Lost...The Church of God in Christ Convocation appears like a ‘coming out party’ for members of the gay community.”

Kim Burrell: “That perverted homosexual spirit is a spirit of delusion & confusion and has deceived many men & women, and it has caused a strain on the body of Christ”

Falwell Suggests Gays to Blame for 9-11 Attacks

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

Pope Francis: Gay People Not Welcome in Clergy

Pope Francis Blames The Devil For Sexual Abuse By Catholic Church

The Pope and Gay People: Nothing’s Changed

The Catholic church silently lobbied against a suicide prevention hotline in the US because it included LGBT resources

Mormon church prohibits Children of LGBT parents to be baptized

Catholic Charity Ends Adoptions Rather Than Place Kid With Same-Sex Couple

I Was a Religious Zealot That Hurt People-Coming Out as Gay: A Former Conversion Therapy Leader Is Apologizing to the LGBTQ Community

The above short list chronicles a consistent, literal, demonization of LGBTQ people, contempt for their gender presentation, objectification of their bodies/sexuality and a coordinated pollution of media and culture over the last 50+ years by clergy since integration and Civil Rights legislation. Basically terrorism. Popes, Bishops, Pastors, Evangelists, Politicians, Television hosts, US Presidents, Camp Leaders, Teachers, Singers & Entertainers, Coaches, Athletes and Christians of all types all around the world have confused and confounded these issues, suppressed dissent, and confidently lied about LGBT people-including fellow Queer Christians with impunity for generations (i.e. “thou shall not bear false witness against they neighbor” Ex. 23:1-3). Christian majority viewpoints about “laws” and “nature” have run the table in discussions about LGBTQ people in society-so much that we collectively must first consider their religious views in all discussions and the specter of Christian approval -at best or Christian condescension -at worst. That is Christian (and straight) privilege. People are tired of this undue deference to religious opinions. 

That is what is so deliciously bothersome about Lil Nas X being loud, proud and “in your face” about his sexuality. If for just a moment, he not only disrupts the American hetero-patriarchy but specifically the Black hetero-patriarchy, the so-called “Black Church Industrial Complex”, Neo-Christian Fascism and a mostly uneducated (and/or miseducated) public concerning Ancient Near East and European history, superstitions-and (by extension) White Supremacy. To round up: people are losing their minds because the victim decided to speak out against his victimizer. 

Additionally, on some level I believe people are mad at him being just twenty years old, out and FREE as a self-assured, affirming & affirmed QUEER Black male entertainer with money and fame in the PRIME of his life. We’ve never, or rarely, seen that before in a Black man in the music business and popular culture. But that’s just too bad for them. With my own eyes I’ve watched straight people, friends, Christians, enjoy their sexuality from their elementary youth to adolescence, up and through college and later marriages, often times independently of their spouses (repeatedly). Meanwhile Queer/Gay/SGL/LGBTQ people are expected to put their lives on hold while the ‘blessed’ straight people run around exploring premarital/post-marital/extra-marital sex, love and affection, unbound & un-convicted by their “sin” or God...only to proudly rebrand themselves later in life as a good, moral “wholesome Christian” via the ‘sacred’ institution of marriage with no questions asked. 

Inequality defined.

For Lil Nas X, everything about the society we've created for him in the last 100+ years (re: links above) has explicitly been designed for his life not to be his own. According to these and other Christians (see above), his identity is essentially supposed to be an endless rat fuck of internal confusion, suicide-ideation, depression, long-suffering, faux masculinity, heterosexism, groveling towards heaven, respectability politics, failed prayer and supplication to a heteronormative earthly and celestial hierarchy unbothered in affording LGBT people like him a healthy, sane human development. It’s almost as if the Conservative establishment (Black included) needs Lil Nas X to be like others before him: “private”, mysteriously single, suicidal, suspiciously straight or worse, dead of HIV/AIDS ...anything but driving down the street enjoying his youth as a Black Queer artist and man. So they mad about that?

Well those days are over.  

-Rogiérs is a writer, international recording artist, performer and indie label manager with 25+ years in the music industry. He also directs Black Nonbelievers of DC, a non-profit org affiliated with the AHA supporting Black skeptics, Atheists, Agnostics & Humanists. He holds a B.A. in Music Business & Mgmt and a M.A. in Global Entertainment & Music Business from Berklee College of Music and Berklee Valencia, Spain. www.FibbyMusic.net Twitter/IG: @Rogiers1

[7wanderingpaws]

Captain Bucheon 04

Warnings: language, suggestive

Word count: 4.6K

story masterlist masterlist

tags: @wooya1224 @to-all-the-stories-i-love @jennxx3 @realllllrica (let me know if you want to be un/tagged)​

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<-- Previous - Next -->

Fourth: Painful memories

Baekhyun seemed like a distant dream when you awoke the next day. Everything that happened, starting with your obliviousness to his presence at the field all the way to the moment you slapped him and poured your emotions out; they all felt like they never happened. 

It was your throat, raw and sore from screaming, that indicated last night happened. You woke up tired, feeling your nose clogged and head heavy. As if constantly haunting you, behind closed eyes you saw his; they were looking at you, troubled and wavering. Baekhyun was at your mercy last night. And you were merciless.

One of the painful memories was exceptionally difficult to erase from your mind. Baekhyun's words, that he uttered one year ago in his office, were haunting you and making you believe that things could have been different if you were not lying to him.

I would have waited for you.

Those words were running around in front of your eyes, each word snaking itself in confusing circles creating slight dizziness. Would he have really waited, though?

Groaning, you turned to your other side spotting Yuyeon’s sleeping figure. She wasn’t in the room when you arrived last night, enabling you to cry to your heart's content, which you did. You cried yourself to sleep and now, here was the result. Swollen eyes, headache and a sore throat.

Your phone that was safely tucked under your pillow gave a short vibration, indicating a message. You were waiting for it; it was the last working day after all. Weekend was coming up and you couldn’t wait to get the necessary free time to do your school work and recover from shouting at Byun Baekhyun.

You checked the text message and you planned your day ahead accordingly.

Unknown number

Parcel delivery for the weekend by Sunday 23:30. Bucheon Christian University main gate’s security house.

You frowned, mulling over the destination. Until now, it was always an apartment building and, with the new found information that the messages could have possible secondary destinations encoded, you grew a little uneasy. If issues occurred, would there be another option to deliver the parcel to?

><

There was a hustle going on in Baekhyun’s department that day. Several robberies, crimes and attacks and every officer was preoccupied with suffering victims begging for help and justice.

He also had a couple of cases to deal with, yet he kept zoning out. He barely got a wink of sleep and now he needed to be at his best when he would have much rather stayed home and let himself think through stuff. Not that he didn’t have a whole year to think.

“Knock knock, coffee delivery!” 

Park Chanyeol, the number one detective and also Baekhyun’s close friend, walked in, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. “What’s up Captain?”

“Thanks,” murmured Baekhyun when Chanyeol handed him the mug. “Any news on the case?” he asked, ignoring his friend’s question completely.

Chanyeol crashed on the chair opposite him with a sigh. “Nope,” he replied. “No solid updates. No leads. The attack was sudden and we can’t seem to find a trace of the target.”

Baekhyun sighed. “Two young women have been attacked so far. They were in their mid-twenties.”

“Actually, both of them were in their final year of university,” added Chanyeol with a serious tone.

“That could be a solid lead,” murmured Baekhyun even though his mind was wandering off again. He was quick to zone out on his friend who continued describing the crime scenes, thinking out loud but Baekhyun was already on a completely different page.

You were just seventeen… and he was so heartless. He could vividly remember the actual happenings in his office. He was sitting just where he was seated now, behind his big table full of paperwork and computer while you were becoming smaller and smaller under his smoldering gaze. 

Baekhyun was extremely mad that day. He couldn’t remember the last time he was that mad. Not even the forever annoying Siamsa could annoy him to those bits and he was slowly realizing that it must have been because he liked you much more than he had let himself believe. You betraying his trust, seeing him as a fool and doing stupid stuff behind his back were the exact things he despised in humans. Yet, you did all of them. And one year later, here he was, with you on his mind.

He cringed inwardly when he remembered the harsh words he told you.

You were stupid enough to get caught.

You can be goddamn sure I wouldn’t talk to a KID.

It was a grave mistake to talk to you.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, not even catching Chanyeol abruptly stopping his talk. Baekhyun was way too brutal with you. He groaned out loud when he remembered another horrible thing he said. I’m breaking up with you if it wasn’t obvious enough. Plus, I’m arresting you…

“Are you okay? You really seem out of it today.” Chanyeol seemed concerned and even a little perplexed as Baekhyun rarely showed this kind of behavior in front him, let alone showing it at his workplace. In the office, Baekhyun was the one to be scared of, to be respected and bowed to. This Baekhyun seemed like if Chanyeol pushed him with his finger, he'd crumble.

“I'm fine,” muttered back the captain with a throaty voice.

Chanyeol pursed his lips, unsure how to ask what had been on his mind since he entered the office. Instead of wanting to deal with a serious talk, a cheeky glint lit up in his eyes. “Perhaps you met her again?”

“Her?” Baekhyun frowned with a down-ward tilt on his lips.

Chanyeol wiggled his eyebrows as he stretched on the chair. “You know who!” he took a breath and with his deep voice, started to sing:

She looked incredible Just turned 17 I guess my friends are right She's out of my league So what am I to do? She's too good to be true

Baekhyun couldn't help himself when he heard the lyrics his friend correlated with you. They couldn't have been more accurate and despite him being in a bad mood, the idea made him laugh under his nose as he looked on the floor. “Actually, I did. And I got slapped,” he revealed somehow proudly as he let himself sit on his chair, enjoying the astonished look on Chanyeol's face.

“No way!” he straightened up in his seat, leaning forward so he could get a better look at his friend. “She slapped you? Damn, this girl is feisty. She keeps beating up our captain!” he laughed out loud, consumed by the images of you, the young woman in her late teenage years, slapping someone of Baekhyun's calibre.

“Yeah, well, she's always been fearless.” he shrugged, frowning out of a sudden. “I screwed that girl up pretty badly, Chan, but that's no news.”

Chanyeol went quiet for a minute, fully aware of Baekhyun's emotions and the way the past events had been eating him up. “How is she doing these days?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “I guess well? She's lost some weight, but,” he sighed and proceeded to talk about the event that he witnessed with the boys sexually harassing you.

“The kids these days can't keep it in their pants,” cackled Chanyeol in disbelief but Baekhyun was far from entertained. His jaw was locked, the skin pulsing with tension at the mere idea of last night.

“If they ever as much as think about her I swear to god-”

“Whoa, hold on, Baek. You know you can't just get involved.”

“What do you mean I can't just get involved? They were harassing her, and I'm a cop.”

“I think your rage is more fueled because it's about Nari. As much as you seek justice, you shouldn't let your emotions take the better out of you. Besides, people might get suspicious-”

“Chanyeol, what the fuck?” snapped Baekhyun angrily. “If she were any woman I'd do the same.”

“You would not punch in order to protect just any woman.”

“Yes, I would-”

“No, you would do the smart talk and intimidate them with your power and  authority. But you punched the kid, Baek.”

Baekhyun sighed in agitation, his hand coming yet again up to his face, tiredly rubbing at the skin. “So what should I have done? I myself am confused about my emotions but I know I care about her a lot.”

“Of course you care about her. You drank straight up one month after she found out about your fake boyfriend identity and you broke up.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes, hating the way Chanyeol was so blunt with his words. “Either way, she still hates me.”

“Would you fight for her if she ever gave you a chance?” asked Chanyeol quietly, his fingers nipping at his lower lip in thought.

Baekhyun opened his mouth, ready to answer way too quickly before he stopped himself. He was frozen when he realized the answer that so naturally came to him. Would he fight for you if you ever decided to build the bridges again? He definitely would have one year ago when he came to your high school to see you.

“You're hesitating,” stated Chanyeol and pursed his lips. “I think you're scared, too, captain.”

Baekhyun scoffed but Chanyeol cut him off: “You would hate losing her again. And she is a fragile kid, scarred by everything that happened to her. She could be even more vulnerable with you. Remember that.”

><

“Where are you going?” asked Yuyeon, confused, when you were putting on your black jeans and a black hoodie. The helmet for the scooter was already tucked under your arm, ready to leave for the Saturday night. Time was ticking in your brain and you grew quite anxious about possible bad outcomes of this delivery if you wouldn't leave right away.

“Work,” you shrugged, “will get this done and then I will be free,” you smiled, a little strained but Yuyeon only gave you a suspicious side glance.

“You never work on the weekends! This employer is already playing with you and telling you to work even when it's not your official hours,” she frowned deeply, looking like a sulking child.

You sighed and suppressed the need to roll your eyes. “Okay, mum, I'll be back in time, no worries.”

“You better be! I won't fuss about wanting to go to a club when you're oh so busy.”

“I promise we can go next Friday!” you shouted, opening the door to put on your shoes.

She grumbled in response and you laughed to yourself, slamming the doors behind you when you slid your feet into your boots. Making sure they were tied well, you rushed out into the chilly evening, making your way to the mini-scooter Chul borrowed you so you could get the job done easier.

Bucheon Christian University was a little further away from your campus, so you made sure you followed the map carefully once you got the box from the apartment you usually got it from. The apartment itself was a high-rise, family friendly building and, just like the previous times, this box was also very light in your arms despite it being a little bigger. You had a spare rope under the seat of the scooter, so you tied it securely so it wouldn't fall when you had it between your feet.

As you were reaching the destination, you realized your palms were becoming more sweaty. Your heartbeat, usually quiet, was now gently beating in your ears, letting you know the stress levels were rising.

“You arrived at your destination,” said the GPS when you passed a big entrance that was leading into a small campus with white buildings that seemed too out of the place. Wanting to get the job done quickly, you searched with eager eyes for a little building that would be the security office, getting off the scooter and untying the delivery.

Seeing a box-like metal security office for the car park barrier you swallowed harshly, walking up to it. There were no signs of life inside, the lights out and the barriers probably working on auto mode. For other people, it must have looked ridiculous - you walking with a bigger box towards the security office but you could only hope no one would see your face which was the reason why you were reluctant to take the helmet off.

You were walking up to what you deemed the correct destination, but you couldn't help the uneasy feeling. There is no need, you insisted in your mind, because this was the correct destination. You would put the box down in front of the doors and just leave. Yes. That was correct.

Despite your weak reassurances, you kept looking around making sure you weren’t missing another spot. Your heartbeat was still gently pumping in your ears, reminding you that this was a little more stressful than the previous outings.

As you reached the doors to the security office, you put the box down more to the side as the doors were directly in front of the road for the cars. Feeling the relief of accomplishing another day of delivery, you turned around and started walking back towards the scooter, the tension slowly but surely easing up. You looked back several times to make sure the box was still there and with that you sat on the scooter and rode away, excited that you didn’t miss out on the night just yet.

If Yuyeon would be up for fun, you could finally go and be reckless!

><

Baekhyun was about to turn off the lights and call it a night at 9pm when a loud set of knocks disturbed his peace. Thinking it was his friends who wanted to give him a surprise visit, he swiftly opened the door only to be surprised when he spotted a ball of pink.

“The hell are you doing here?” he snapped, not moving to let the uninvited guest in.

Siamsa, or, to Baekhyun, Sooah, rolled her eyes as she stepped closer. “Well, hi to you, handsome. I’ll tell you if you let me in.”

“Well, I don’t want to know,” he replied in an even voice. “So that makes it easier. Bye-“

“Wait!” she exclaimed quickly and made a step in, wanting to prevent him from slamming the door shut in her face. “It’s about your ex.”

He didn’t want to admit it; but his heart jumped at the mention of you. Sooah never cared enough about Baekhyun’s other exes before her. Unfortunately for you, you came after her and Siamsa, the kpop sensation, was not processing it well. “If you’re gonna talk bullshit, I’ll spare myself the time-“

“If you want to protect her, you should listen,” she sing-sang nonchalantly, playing with the ends of her long hair. It was dyed blond and made her seem innocent which she was far from.

“And how would you know what’s up with Nari? You’ve already done so much shit in the past! What makes you think I’ll believe you?”

Sooah shrugged, pretending to be unbothered. “Well, I care about your well-being, Baekhyun. I know you care about her. I know the break-up was brutal. You locked up her brother-“

Baekhyun was fast to grab her by her wrist and yank her inside, quickly kicking the door shut. Sooah had a satisfied smirk on her face when she took in his distressed expression. “How. Do. You. Know. That.”

“Mhmm, so hot,” she whispered with a wink, mocking him. “I always liked how manly you are, my little one-“

“Listen,” he cut her off angrily, the nickname making him shudder inwardly, “I don’t care about your fucking games. I’m way past you and all your stupid shit. But I swear to god, if you do something to Nari-“

“You seem to have luck on girls who do stupid shit,” she mimicked him as she stood closer, making sure her breath fanned his chin. “Nari seems to go from one trouble to another. One day she might as well end up like her brother,” she laughed to herself.

“How do you know about her brother?” he asked again in a low tone, trying hard to ignore the anger he felt whenever she mentioned you.

Sooah pulled a fake thinking face, tapping her slender finger with perfect nail art on her chin. “For starters, don’t underestimate my honesty, Baekhyun. I know more than you think. I really care about you, you know,” she mumbled the last sentence and dared to reach up with her hand, touching his cheek gently. “Me messing up by protecting my identity - you were too harsh with me back then, sweetie.”

Baekhyun sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and moving his face away from her touch. She was bringing up the past and he didn’t like it; he didn’t want to dive in it. Sooah was a great manipulator and he didn’t want to fall down the guilt rabbit hole when he knew he did the right thing in the past. “We are done with that talk.”

“I was never done with that talk,” she was fast to protest. “You were. I still want you.” When she moved to stand closer to him, Baekhyun quickly stood back and away from her. “Baekhyun!”

“Tell me what you know about Lee Nari and then leave!”

“I want something in return,” she rebutted quickly, even confidently, but the desperation on her face was speaking volumes. “And I’ll tell you all I know.”

He grit his jaw, hard. “I swear to god, Sooah, stop testing me-“

“It’s noona for you,” she murmured with a sharp gaze that kept flickering over his features. He always looked good, but judging from his outfit, she knew he was preparing to sleep. That hoodie would soon be taken off and those plaid pants too. Her mind swirled just at the thought of it.

“We are done with that too—“

“You can’t fight the age difference, baby,” she purred and stepped closer. She enjoyed seeing his internal conflict. Despite being a harsh captain, she knew which buttons to push for him to submit, although she didn’t like that it involved you. She hated that the only way she could talk to Baekhyun was if she mentioned your name.

Baekhyun sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok. Speak. Otherwise I’m throwing you out.”

Sooah burst out into laughter, quickly hiding her laminated teeth and scrunched up nose behind her hand. “You manhandling me wouldn’t be the first time, Captain,” she said in a low, sensual tone as she trailed her long fingernail over his chest. She could have sworn it was more toned than the last time she had the pleasure of touching it. “And you know how much I like it.” When she saw him closing his eyes in exasperation, she trailed the finger upwards to his prominent collarbones before she took the side of his neck in her palm, running her thumb over the pulse point. “God, I miss you so much. Like, so, so much, my sweetie.” She knew she was testing the limits. She also knew an angry Baekhyun was anything but good news. She refused to spare him, though. “Your girlfriend is a bad girl. She’ll easily become a criminal if she continues doing the bad stuff.”

Baekhyun snapped his eyes open. “Is she up to something these days?” he asked almost breathily.

Her fingers traveled to the nape of his neck and she buried them in the hair, lightly scratching at the skin. Baekhyun was fighting the shuddering feeling, hoping his body wouldn’t betray him.

“Oh, yes. When isn’t she up to something,” she mumbled thoughtfully, her hawk eyes taking note of Baekhyun’s slight blush. He was getting affected with her ministrations and she stepped closer to him. He didn’t move away.

“What is it?” he hummed when her other hand massages his chest in small circles. “What is it that she is doing?”

Sooah had a mischievous glint in her eyes as she bit her bottom lip in triumph. “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you-“

“No games!” snapped Baekhyun angrily, his eyes stormy as he glared at her.

“Then you won’t find out!”

“Sooah!”

“Just a magic word and a little kiss is all I want, sweetie,” she whispered, enjoying his intent stare on her. “I promise that’s all I will want and you get to access all you need to know.”

“No,” he shook his head resolutely. “I don’t care.”

“You care so fucking much about her,” it was her turn to spit now, gradually getting infuriated with his reluctance to submit to her. “Or do you want me to, perhaps…” she trailed off, puckering her lips, feigning thinking, “tell everyone in her school you dated her as an underaged kid?”

That was it for Baekhyun. Something snapped within him and he made a threatening step towards his ex, who didn’t even budge at his abruptness. “I dare you to say a single word that would harm her reputation, Sooah. I dare you to. She already went through so much shit because of me and her family.”

Sooah was smirking as she watched the captain's troubled, but hard face. It hurt her, but she wasn’t the most emotionally literate person; she was selfish and sometimes enjoyed suffering of others. That was how a very bad product of the entertainment industry looked like. Whether she would admit it was questionable. Sooah would never give Baekhyun up when her emotions for him were so deep, when the man was desirable so much. It was always a given that he was a one of a kind man and she always wanted everything that was one of a kind.

“What a good man you are, Byun Baekhyun,” she hummed, her eyes focused on his lips. “Caring about a child so much. A child who lied to you from the very first start.”

“Whatever the hell you are trying to do here, leave it,” gritted Baekhyun eventually. “And tell me what she is up to.”

“I already told you what’s the price!” she whined, making Baekhyun frown. “A kiss. On the lips.” With her finger, she tapped her lower lip, excitement cursing through her when she saw Baekhyun eyeing her mouth. “And then the secrets are all yours.”

It was tempting; not the kiss, but the reward. Baekhyun’s mind was racing with possibilities, with outcomes. Then he became worried. He knew how twisted Sooah could be, and were she to talk in front of your school about your relationship, you’d most probably never forgive him for letting it happen and he himself would be in huge trouble. Maybe that thought was even stronger than his need to know whether you were in trouble or not.

To make Baekhyun’s pondering a little easier, Sooah boldly pressed her palm against his toned stomach, the muscles instantly flexing upon her intrusive touch. Sooah knew Baekhyun was a very sensitive man; a single tingle on his neck could turn him on, the lightest of scratches could make him stand up proud. She knew he had to be affected by her minimal ministrations. She knew him perfectly. Touching up the ridges around the muscles, she let her hand slide lower to his abdomen before reaching to cup his—

Baekhyun slapped her hand away with a growl and pressed her against the door. “One fucking kiss and you’ll spill everything,” he breathed. She couldn’t even react before he pressed his lips harshly against hers, the texture of her lip gloss attaching to his lips. Sooah groaned, arms instantly hugging his neck. Her long finger nails scratched his nape and Baekhyun’s will was becoming weaker. 

The familiar scent of her strong, sweet perfume wafted over his senses, reminding him that this was not the woman he cared about anymore. Her eager tongue pushed his lips apart and was fast to battle with his own. The way she kissed him was nothing but desperate, needy, a call for attention. He hated it. The last time he kissed a woman— a girl was a year ago and her lips were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Despite her being brave with him, her kisses were shy, careful, kitten-like and Baekhyun accidentally groaned at the thought of that. 

He pressed his lips harsher against this woman’s while imaging an innocent girl behind his eyelids. His hands were pressed against the door but he wanted to touch so bad. He only got to touch her once and not the way he would have liked, and now he had to fight the urge to let his hands slide around the curves, to outline her behind while her chest would be pressed against his.

He was quickly reminded that the body pressing against him was indeed not Lee Nari. Sooah had a slim physique with a flat chest and a big space between her thighs. He loved it once, but not anymore.

Before Sooah could cup his private part again he broke the kiss, desperately needing some air and needing to snap out of his deep fantasy. Blinking several times, he got to see the face that went through so many changes with plastic surgery and when she smiled at him with swollen lips, he realized how unreal this woman was. Unreal and unfaithful.

“What is Lee Nari doing ?” he breathed, the question coming out in a low murmur, his lips visibly swollen.

The spark that was in Sooah’s eyes left, quickly interchanged with hate and betrayal. “Is this what you ask me right after you kissed me?” she shrieked, causing Baekhyun to flinch. “You just had your tongue in my mouth and you dare to say a little girl’s name afterwards?”

Sooah wasn't wrong about you being a little girl. She was older by fourteen years after all; she saw you as a complete kid. Which made Sooah feel even more devastated and enraged; Baekhyun dated someone so incredibly young, half of her age. It made her feel like she couldn't compare.

“I’m not going to ask you any more. You got what you wanted. Get out of my flat if you don’t do anything useful,” replied Baekhuyn with a hard glare.

“She is delivering drugs,” snapped Sooah and Baekhyun was shocked to find tears in her eyes as she spoke. “That’s who she is now, Baekhyun. She is delivering illegal stuff on a scooter and she doesn’t even have a driving license.”

It felt like someone poured a scorching hot water over him. You and drugs? And you didn’t have a driving license while driving a vehicle? So many thoughts raced through his mind, so many questions left unanswered. What the hell were you up to? “And you know this how?”

Sooah shrugged. “None of your damn business.”

“It is if it involves Nari.”

Sooah scoffed mockingly. “Then sleep with me.”

“You need help, Sooah,” replied Baekhyun somehow compassionately after a moment of silence. Taking the singer’s arm in his, he turned her and opened the door so he could push her out to the corridor. “And immediately. You’re sick in your head. Treat your obsession and then we can still be friends maybe.”

“You’re a heartless bastard, Baekhyun,” whispered Sooah, not turning around. “You better watch out for the university festival. Your girlfriend will be my puppet.”

She started walking with purposeful steps towards the elevator, not looking back and not noticing the way Baekhyun’s face fell with dread.

But the girl had been hurt enough.

><><><><><><><><

A/N: thank you for reading! I had lots of fun with this chapter! Let me know your thoughts, there is so much happening over here >.<

Lyrics credit: McFly - That Girl

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Marauders #22

I absolutely hated this issue, so be warned that’s a lot of salt here, and my usual whining, so skip this post if you’re not in the mood for that.  Also spoilers below.

First impression - what absolute, self-indulgent horseshit.  I hesitate to use “fanfic” in a derogatory way, but a lot of Marauders has read as being very “fanfic” in terms of self-indulgence, and greatly favoring certain characters while denigrating others.  I actually don’t think that’s a bad thing in fanfic.  It can be annoying to read if that’s not what you’re looking for (or it can be wonderful, if it IS what you’re looking for), but ultimately, fanfic is all about self-indulgence.  It’s about writing what you want to see in a story, and if Duggan’s Marauders was someone’s actual fanfic, I wouldn’t have anything bad to say about it.  I might dislike the characterization, and probably wouldn’t read it, but it ultimately wouldn’t matter because it’s fanfic.  Frankly, I’m just as bad about constantly centering everything around Pyro (and finding ways to work him into stories where he doesn’t even belong), because I’m writing just for myself, so I can be self-indulgent.  But I’d expect much better from a professional writer.  I’d expect much better from someone being paid to write a team book.  I’d expect a god-damn balanced book that actually pays attention to the whole cast and gives a thoughtful interpretation to ALL the characters, even the villains, rather than a book dedicated to shining a spotlight on two already well-established characters, and treating them like queens who step all over the rest of the cast. 

So, we ignore almost everything set up at the Gala, including the attack on Christian and the Marauder (the ship) being set ablaze.  Why aren’t the characters handling that, Duggan?  Is that really being saved for another month?  We don’t even know if Christian is dead or not, you can’t even spare a panel for Iceman reacting to this?  Instead, we tell a flashback story that eventually reveals that Lourdes Chantel is still alive, and Emma helped her fake her own death to escape from an abusive Sebastian.

What exactly is the point of this story, in terms of the overall Marauders arc?  Will Lourdes show up later to play a role?  Is this meant to further push Sebastian along some kind of path to redemption (recognizing that he drove Lourdes away with his actions).  Because so far, Duggan doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested in rehabilitating Sebastian.  This seems like yet another story establishing Emma GOOD, Sebastian BAD, the same message that’s been getting pounded into the readers’ heads for 22 issues.  Like, we KNOW, Duggan.  We know that you think the sun shines out of Emma’s ass, you’ve already well-established that you think she’s a brilliant, wonderful, compassionate, badass queen, through 22 issues of centering the entire series around her, at the expense of EVERY other fucking character in the book (even sometimes Kate, the other obvious favorite).  It’s gotten beyond tiresome at this point.  Like, I feel like even people who love Emma and hate Sebastian are getting bored by now, because it’s not even good storytelling to have a strawman villain who is no real threat just getting repeatedly knocked down.

So, Duggan has taken both Sebastian and Emma, and further removed any kind of complexity or nuance from them.  Sebastian can’t have a kind or tender side, he can’t ever be shown in a positive light.  His relationship was Lourdes was previously part of his tragic origins, pushing him to be a worse person than he’d been in a past, but no, lets retcon him to be a controlling abuser, whom Lourdes is desperate to escape.  Because it makes Sebastian look bad and Emma look good.  Honestly, it would have been more interesting and powerful to have Lourdes come back from the dead, and be disgusted by the person Sebastian has become.  That would actually have an impact.

And by the way, why did Lourdes need Emma’s help in establishing her new identity?  She was already part of the Hellfire Club, she’s the one who brought Sebastian in, she’s rich as fuck.  Lourdes should be well capable of getting away from Sebastian on her own.  She might need Emma’s help for faking her own death, but the rest of it?  Emma should just do a little hacking to access Lourdes’ personal fortune and transfer it into a new account, and then she’s good to go.  But no, Lourdes has to be treated like a little lost lamb, a helpless battered woman for Emma to rescue.  And Emma’s deal with the Kingpin further exonerates Emma for her past crimes, because obviously, she’s just working off the debt she incurred helping poor, innocent Lourdes!  It can’t be that Emma did bad things in the past because she was ambitious, cruel, vain, and power-hungry, she has to be a woke queen who was always there to help other women.

I think Duggan thinks he’s being feminist with all this, with the “women help each other,” message, and either ignoring or villifying all the male characters.  But he’s not.  It’s not feminist to take a very complex, interesting, powerful woman like Emma Frost and completely remove all responsibility and agency for her past crimes by turning her into an abuse victim and repeatedly retconning her to be better than she actually was.  (To be fair, Duggan is just continuing a trend already started by other writers).  Emma is ambitious, power-hungry, cruel, callous, self-absorbed, vain and snobby.  But she is also brave, intelligent, compassionate, kind, protective, heroic, and self-sacrificing.  All of those things are part of Emma.  She is a teacher who loved her students, and the love for those students is part of what sent Emma on her long, difficult path towards redemption.  Yes, she’s a badass queen, but she is also a flawed individual, who has worked to overcome those flaws and become a better person.  And constantly re-writing the past to make her an “always good” abuse victim who only ever committed crimes because the big bad men forced her into it cheapens that redemption.

Speaking of cheap redemption -     

The Wilhelmina subplot: Wow, Duggan really will prioritize ANY character over Bishop, Iceman and Pyro, won’t he?  I know this is me throwing a tantrum, because “Wah, Duggan is writing someone other than my favorites!” but after 22 issues I feel justified in this whining.  Iceman, Bishop and Pyro are supposed to be regular cast members, and so far Duggan has given more serious development and emotional scenes to Callisto, Forge, Dolores (the human contact at the X-Desk), Masque, Jumbo Carnation, Magneto, the Cuckoos, and now Wilhelmina.  I don’t mind the development for many of those characters, I like Callisto and Forge and Jumbo (although I’m a little annoyed at the Magneto stuff, since he’s already front and center in the Krakoa era, and about to star in a mini-series, does he really need more time in the spotlight?).  But honestly?  Fuck Wilhelmina.  I was never that interested in the Hellfire brats, and I’m not the slightest bit interested in watching the retcon redemption of a character that murders animals for fun.  Why does she get a spotlight story while the three dudes on the team STILL haven’t gotten anything more than vague background hints of character arcs.  I mean, compare the very emotional flashback and Wilhelmina’s breakdown to the half-assed, mostly taking place off- panel “redemption” that Duggan has given Pyro.  Just a single line of “maybe this crew is bringing out the best in me,” with no lead-up, no further reflection, no hints about Pyro changing his ideas before then.  Why did you even put Iceman, Bishop and Pyro on the team if you’re not going to use them, Duggan?  Because you’ve made it quite clear that you’d rather write ANY character other than them.  I can’t even look forward to Tempo and Banshee joining the cast next issue, even though I like them (and I really want to see more development of Tempo), because I know they will be yet more characters that get pushed into the foreground, while Iceman, Bishop and Pyro remain the underdeveloped background clown trio.    

Also, it seems kind of offensive to have a cruel, murderous female character, and then say that her cruelty is entirely due to sexual abuse?  What kind of message does that send to sexual abuse victims?  That it will turn you into a monster?  Why do female villains keep getting sexual abuse as part of their backstory?  Why can’t they just be bad?  Or have something else going on?  So the Cuckoos flip a switch in Wilhelmina and she’s magically “fixed,” or at least on her way to better?  Again, I think Duggan thinks he’s being feminist with this, but he’s not. 

At least Wllhelmina has been a recurring villain in this series, so I can kinda see how her potential redemption may move the plot along, but Duggan is still introducing new plot threads, while leaving so many others dangling.  What about Christian?  What about Shinobi and Fenris?  Will Bobby and Christian ever even speak to each other again?  Will the supposed main cast members of Iceman, Bishop and Pyro ever, EVER get a proper character arc?

Or will we get an entire issue of Emma, Kate and the Cuckoos giving Wilhelmina a redemptive make-over, because girl power, amiright?

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Seven

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: This chapter contains description of a heavy panic attack. Please read at your own risk.

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Author’s Note: A chunk of dialogue in this chapter comes from the movie and has been expanded on to fit the storyline. 

Previous

“And when exactly is your mother planning to visit us?” Monsignor O’Malley inquired as he followed Demetria. 

Demetria snapped a photo of the hallway before looking over her shoulder. “Most likely next month. Once I send her the photos , she’ll work on drafts and whenever she comes, we can all sit down and discuss how to go about the process.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what, I have her business card with me because she sometimes does work in Gotham City.” 

She pulled out her wallet from her purse and handed Monsignor O’Malley the thing off white card. “She’ll be happy to answer any of your questions and or concerns.” 

He smiled as he took the card. “This is awfully generous of you, Ms. Gallagher. We can’t tell you how grateful we are.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” she waved her hand. “Both Bruce and I want to make sure you, the sisters, and the boys are taken care of with whatever you need.” She paused. “How are the boys doing?” 

“They’re wonderful.” 

“Oh good! I was actually wondering if I could go say ‘hi’ or-.” 

“Unfortunately the boys are on a field trip with the sisters.”

Demetria nodded understandingly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Absolutely.” Then an idea hit her. “Do the nuns teach the boys?” 

“Some do. We’ve been thinking about incorporating more schooling into the boys schedules, but we’re a little short staffed and not all the nuns feel comfortable teaching certain subjects.” 

“I’d love to step in,” Demetria offered. 

Monsignor O’Malley raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it you would teach?” 

“I’m excellent at English. All levels. I was a TA my senior year of high school. I even minored in it in college.” 

Monsignor O’Malley nodded his head, impressed. “Well, if it doesn’t interfere with your schedule-.” 

“I don’t have one,” she laughed. 

He chuckled. “Then I suppose it’s something we can try out. Are you free next week?”

Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely!’ I would love that!”

Before she could say more, the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. She gave Monsignor O’Malley an apologetic smile as she dug into her bag. “Excuse me one second.” 

She glanced down to see it was a reminder that she had to start getting ready for the fundraiser. 

“Please excuse me, but I’ve got to head out,” Demetria said. “Remember, if you have any questions, you have my number as well as my mom’s.” 

“Of course. I also look forward to discussing you working here.” 

“I do as well.” 

The two shook hands and Demetria headed out of the orphanage.

She had taken Bruce’s Cadillac XLR, seeing as it was the only semi-low-key-looking car he owned and the only one she didn’t get anxious driving. She wished he had owned something a little less glamorous for trips like this, hating how it made her look, but it was what it was.

As she she opened the driver’s side door, she noticed a photographer snapping her from the distance. The two stared at each for a moment, acknowledging just what was going on. She exhaled softly, mentally reminding herself to keep it together.

Since her essay was published, the media outlets had backed off a bit. The Gotham Times were still insistent of doing a piece on her and published one on her, but it turned out to be a dud as no one close to her would speak to them with the exception of her former News Director and the Head Booker, her other boss. It also helped that a local mob boss was mysteriously killed and the news decided to fixate on that. 

She gave him a quick, tired smile before she slid inside and closed the door, driving off.

===================================================

Back at the Wayne Penthouse, Bruce adjusted the cuffs of his pristine white dress shirt as he made his way down the stairs. 

Alfred wrapped up his conversation with the party planners and turned his attention to Bruce. 

“I think your fundraiser will be a great success,” Alfred remarked. 

“Why do you think I want to hold a party for Harvey Dent?” Bruce questioned, almost annoyed at the thought of it. 

“I assumed it was your usual reason for socializing beyond myself and the scum of Gotham’s underbelly to try to impress Miss Gallagher.” 

“Very droll, very wrong,” Bruce responded, glancing up for a brief moment. 

Alfred looked over his shoulder for a moment, noticing the party planners were not in the room. “Have you considered telling Miss Gallagher what it is you’re doing at night?” Alfred inquired in a voice low enough for Bruce to hear him. 

Bruce glanced up. It wasn’t the first time this conversation came up between the two. “Soon.” 

“Before or after you say ‘I do’?” 

“When the time is right.” 

“Perhaps she should truly know what she’s getting herself into.” 

Bruce stopped in his tracks. “What are you implying, Alfred?” 

“Miss Gallagher has given you every ounce of herself.” 

“Who says I-.” 

Bruce’s attention was caught by the low sound of the television. He looked over to find GCN airing what appeared to be a figure of Batman, hanging with a rope around it’s neck on a building.  The lower third read “BATMAN DEAD?”

Demetria walked down the stairs and into the living room, tightening the belt on her cozy white bathrobe when she saw Bruce and Alfred staring at the tv. Curious, her eyes darted to the tv when she saw the lower third. 

Her blood ran cold with disbelief and shock, heart dropping into her stomach. 

The camera cut back to GCN anchor, Mike Engel. 

“Be aware, the image is disturbing,” he warned. 

The camera then cut to a man dressed in a cheap Batman getup, his plump cheeks spilling out of the cowl. He was sat on the floor of what looked like the back kitchen area of a butcher shop with a silver cart and a large pieces of animal meat hanging behind the victim. He had his hands tied behind them, his face lowered to the game. 

“Tell them your name,” the camera man said in a menacing, sing-song voice. 

“Brian Douglas,” the fake Batman answered weakly.

“Are you the real Batman?” There was a childish, teasing tone in the voice behind the camera to a point where it was menacing. It was almost as if whoever it was took immense pleasure in this man’s torture. 

“No.” Brian was barely hanging on. 

“No?” the voice repeated back, almost in a whine to mimic Brian’s pain. 

“No.”

“No?” The voice giggled. An arm reached over and pulled the cowl off Brian. “Then why do you dress up like him?” The camera pulled back, the arm dangling the cowl in front of Brian. The voice laughed a stomach curdling “Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!”

“Because he’s a symbol...that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you,” Brian retorted with a slight bit of courage in his weak tone. 

“Yeah. You do, Brian.” The hand grabbed the side of Brian’s face, the camera coming in close. “You really do.”

The hand pulled the top of Brian’s head as the man whimpered. The hand turned back and stroked Brian’s cheek. “Oh, shh shh shh.” 

Demetria shook her head, her stomach growing weak. Bruce’s eyes fixated on the TV, his expression stone cold with eyes colored in disbelief. 

“So,” the voice continued on, “you think the Batman's helped Gotham? Hmm?”

Brian didn’t respond. 

“LOOK AT ME!” 

The roaring voice caused Demetria to jump back, her hand slapping on her mouth. 

The camera swung around to reveal the person behind the voice, the sight causing Demetria to yelp, “Jesus Christ!” 

The red smeared smile was complimented by his chalk-white foundation and accentuated the long scars on the sides of his face. Two lazily painted black eyeshadow covered his eyes and he revealed his dark yellow teeth. 

“You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask, and turn himself in.”

It was something behind the clown that Demetria recognized. A memory popped up in her mind, her jaw dropping at the realization. 

“Oh, and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I’m a man of my word.”

As the camera switched around, the man let out a menacing cackle as Brian screamed in the background. Demetria, overcome with her realization and the man’s grim promise, hurried up the stairs, Bruce and Alfred watching her. Bruce turned off the television and glanced at Alfred who shot him a look. He gave the old man a nod, indicating the message was received.

In their bedroom, Demetria grabbed a notebook from her nightstand as well as a pen. She began writing hurriedly, her cursive handwriting slightly smudged from the pen. Upon finishing, she ripped the page from her notebook and folded it. She reached back into the drawer, grabbing an empty envelope and shoving the folded paper in there. She licked the envelope, sealing tightly with her fingers and placed it back into the drawer. 

Just as she went to close the drawer, she heard the door unlock and grabbed her anti-anxiety meds.

Bruce entered the room.

“Everything ok?” he asked, gentle concern laced in his tone.

She waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Just that video was, uh, pretty overwhelming to watch. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” 

He eyed the pilll bottle in her hand. “You know you should probably put that in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just used to putting them in nightstand drawer. But considering we’re having a bunch of random people over, I guess you’re right.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should I leave some viagra in a little bowl for our older guests trying to impress their much younger dates?”

He sat beside her on the bed, smirking at her. “I don’t have any because I don’t need it.”

She hummed, patting his leg. “I wouldn’t say that.”

He pulled her close, his breath hitting her lips. “Not funny.” 

“Oh, but it is. It really is.”

She gave him a chaste kiss, nuzzling her nose against his. “You think maybe we should cancel this party? I mean, I don’t think it’s safe.” 

“We’re going to be fine,” Bruce reassured. 

She sighed, realizing there was no point in changing his mind. “Then I guess I better continue getting ready.” 

He chuckled. “Well, don’t get too excited, sweetheart.” 

“It’s just...” she stepped back, “I don’t know.” Her fingers toyed the robed belt. “I figured you’d cancel the party and we could spend the night in here...” She continued to move back toward the bathroom area, throwing off the robe to reveal her naked body to him. “And I’d let you do whatever you want to me. But since you won’t cancel it...” She shrugged. “Oh well.” 

Bruce could feel his pants grow a little tight and he was ready to have her pay the price. His hungry eyes stayed on her, like a lion ready to pounce on it’s prey. “You get back here. Right. Now.” 

She shook her head. “I have to get ready.” She pointed to the tent in his pants. “I suggest you take care of that situation before you leave this room.” 

She grabbed the robe from the floor and closed the door behind her, locking it so Bruce wouldn’t try anything. 

She exhaled and ran a hand through her damp hair. She wasn’t sure how long this party would last, but she had to make sure Batman got her letter. 

==================================================

Bruce waited outside near the helicopter landing pad, his hands in his pockets. He watched as the navy blue sky took over the sunset, but once he turned his head, his breath was taken away by an even more beautiful sight. 

Demetria walked out on to the helicopter landing pad, her black hair in an updo with long, curled strands of hair framing her face. Her navy blue gown was strapless with a subtle reverse sweetheart neckline, and hugged her small curves just right before flowing out on to the floor.  Her makeup stayed on the subtle side with her eyeliner and mascara accentuating her warm, emerald green eyes and her Goldilocks lips were the perfect shade of pink. 

“Is it too much?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She put a hand on her stomach, feeling the knot inside tightening. Her face fell into a panic. “Oh shit, it is, isn’t it?” 

He shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek as he smiled at her adoringly. “You look incredible, sweetheart.”

Color filled her cheeks as her pink lips curved into a bashful smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Wayne.” 

His lips gently crashed on to hers as he cradled the side of her face. For a moment, as they relished in their kiss, the world was still and time froze. Neither of them could remember the last time they shared such a moment, but they truly savored it while they still could. 

Bruce pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, his lips hovering over hers. “For the record, you still owe me from before.” 

She hummed against his lips. “I’ll take it into consideration.” 

He smirked at her. “You’re lucky I like you. C’mon, let’s go.”

He took her hand in his, leading her onto the helicopter. The pilot helped her up first, Bruce following right after. As the two sat in the back, Demetria turned to him.  “What’s the point of doing this again?”  

He took her hand once again. “Grand entrances are fun. Plus, wait til’ you see the view from above.” 

He felt her latch on to his arm as the sound of the choppers roared in. Soon enough, the helicopter began rising, the weight of the ground lifting. As it took off into Gotham City, Demetria watched the twinkling city below her.

As childish as it seemed, Demetria felt like Jasmine did on that magic carpet with Aladdin. Seeing Gotham from a bird’s eye view, the city looked beautiful and peaceful. 

Bruce relished in watching his fiancé’s amazement, hoping he could make her feel this way for the rest of their lives. 

She looked over at him. “You were right. This is incredible.” 

She scooted closer to him, leaning back on his shoulder as she continued to look out the window. Bruce pressed a kiss to her temple, reaching his hand over to hers on her lap, clasping them. 

Both stayed in the moment, wishing they could stay like this forever. 

But once the helicopter scoured every inch part of Gotham, it was time to descend back onto the landing pad. 

Bruce helped Demetria off the helicopter. Her eyes shifted to the once empty ballroom which was now filled with a large crowd inside staring at her. Her chest grew heavy, palms sweating.

“They’re staring at us,” she told Bruce. 

He took her hand. “They see how you beautiful you look”. He gave it squeeze. “Remember, I’ve got you.” 

She nodded and exhaled softly as the two made their way inside. 

She followed him as the door opened to the gala room. All eyes stayed on them. She flashed a closed mouth smile at partygoers until her eyes met Harvey’s. It wasn’t until his familiar, warm smile that hers became more genuine and honest. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce announced. “Glad you started without us!” He let go of Demetria’s hand, clapping his together. “Where's Rachel?!”

Demetria eye’s turned to Rachel, who cringed slightly. 

Bruce motioned to her. “Rachel Dawes- my oldest friend. When she told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... ‘the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent?' Nice slogan, Harvey.” 

As the crowd chuckled, Demetria’s smile faltered even more. She was thrown off by the Bruce that was speaking. It was like the second his hand left hers, he’d become another man. He’d become like everyone else in the crowd - pompous and slightly arrogance.

He’s putting on a show for them, she thought to herself. This is not the real him.

“Certainly caught Rachel's attention,” Bruce went on. “But then I started paying attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent. On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer. A little more optimistic. But what he’s done for Gotham isn’t just the only good thing Harvey Dent has done.”

He then shifted his tone and his gaze, now looking at Demetria who’s heart dropped to her stomach. 

“Harvey convinced his good friend from college, Demetria Gallagher, to move to Gotham,” Bruce continued, smiling at her. “It’s because of Harvey and Rachel that I was introduced to the love of my life.” 

The crowd let out a collective “aw” as Demetria gave him a small smile.

“I spent years thinking I’d never find the ‘one’.” He turned back to the crowd. “I figured if I’m never gonna find her, why not have some fun? And I did.”

The crowd laughed. Demetria rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Then I ran into Rachel having a lunch with this beautiful woman and I couldn’t help myself. I asked her three times to have dinner with me.” Bruce shifted his attention to Demetria, taking her hand in his. “While I will never know who or what convinced you to say ‘yes’, all I know is that from the moment I left that dinner, I knew this witty, kind, beautiful woman was who I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Demetria, to say you are my heart and my soul is simply not enough. There will never be enough words or adjectives or uses of symbolism to describe how much you mean to me and how happy you make me. I love you more than anything.”

The crowd, once again, “awed” as he pecked Demetria’s cheek. He then grabbed two glasses of champagne off the server’s tray, handing one to Demetria. He then  turned back to the crowd, raising his glass. “To-.” 

“I just want to say something really quickly,” Demetria spoke up, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “If that’s, ok?”

Bruce smiled, her sudden burst of confidence bringing him pride. “By all means.”

She turned to the crowd. “You all know Harvey as your DA, but I know him as  my confidant, my greatest friend, and above all, my family. He’s also my get out of jail free card, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Everyone laughed as Harvey shook his head. Demetria turned to her best friend, her smile fading a bit. 

“Harvey, you’re selflessness and dedication to making Gotham City a safer one for its citizens is not just admirable, but also inspirational. You fight for the voiceless, the scared, and for those who want to make their home a better place. You’re one of the reasons Gotham has a brighter future.”

“So get out your checkbooks and let's make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him,” Bruce toasted. “All except Gotham's criminals, of course. To the face of Gotham's bright future- Harvey Dent.” 

Everyone toasted and took a sip of their champagne.

As the crowd went back to their party, Bruce turned to Demetria.

“I’m going to go outside for a bit,” he told her, pecking her cheek. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

She opened her mouth to protest but it was too late - he’d wandered off. She sighed, wondering how he could he just leave her to fend for herself at their first gala together. She took a sip of her champagne, giving up and giving in to the situation at hand.  

“You’re a very lucky woman,” an elderly woman marveled. “And quite adorable. I bet Martha would’ve loved you.”

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” Demetria remarked. “Were you a friend of hers?”

“We were both on the chair for many charities. Such a wonderful woman. If you’re interested, I would love to bring you aboard some of them and get you acquainted.”

“I would love that! I’m actually working with the boy’s home and helping them with renovations and whatnot.”

“How wonderful!”

“I’ve also expressed interest in helping them with schooling and whatnot.” 

The gleam in the woman’s eyes softened. “Oh...really, now?” 

“Yeah, I would love to do some teaching.” 

“She’s going to do a fantastic job,” Harvey remarked, chiming in. He threw his hand around Demetria’s shoulders. “Those kids are going to be well looked after thanks to her.”

“I don’t doubt that,” the woman agreed before walking off. 

Demetria turned to Harvey. “I think she realized I wasn’t one of them.” 

“Who cares?” he shrugged. “But forgetting that, you’re seriously going to become a teacher?” 

“I brought it up to Monsignor O’Malley about the possibility of teaching English. Besides, it would give me something to do that I actually like. You know, talking to them about novels and what it means to express yourself in your writing.” 

“That’s fantastic!” Harvey remarked. “You would be perfect for that.” 

“I hope so. How are you handling this...whatever it is?” 

He sighed. “I’m...just here. How about you?” 

“I wanna go into my bedroom and go under the covers and wait til’ everyone leaves.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

“I’m working with what I’ve got.”

“Bruce is very lucky.”

“Yeah, he should be. But he decided to give up on the party.” 

Harvey furrowed his eyebrows as Demetria motioned her head to the outside. He then turned his head, the two watching Bruce and Rachel engage in what appeared to be an intense conversation. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Demetria wondered aloud. 

He quickly glanced over and took a look sip of his champagne. “Probably nothing.”

Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Harvey. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re getting defensive.”

“And you’re annoying me.”

“After that heartfelt speech I gave, that’s the thanks I get?” 

“It was alright.” 

She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cringe. “Asshole. I gave a beautiful speech.”

He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, hopefully it will be just a nice ad one you’ll give at my wedding.” 

Her eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up. You proposed to Rachel?” 

“Not yet. I’m planning to.” 

Her mouth hung open as she leaned in close. “Holy shit, dude! When?!” 

“Well first there are some things I gotta-.”

“So you two are friends, yes?” another female guest inquired, cutting him off. Her arm was linked with a man who looked at least 20 years older than she did.

Harvey and Demetria turned to her. “We most certainly are,” Demetria agreed, pinching his cheek. 

“So how long ago did you two date?” one man remarked, chuckling. 

Harvey and Demetria’s eyes went wide.

“We never have,” Harvey answered.

The man elbowed Harvey, laughing. “Aw, c’mon son. It’s alright.” 

“He’s basically my brother,” Demetria said. 

The man shook his head as he and his concerned date turned away. Demetria and Harvey turned to each other.

“Oh my god these people suck,” she giggled to Harvey. “At least they’ll fund you.”

“Yeah, I could give a shit,” he retorted. 

“Mind if I steal him for a bit?�� Rachel asked, chiming in. 

“By all means,” Demetria motioned. 

Harvey and Rachel went off when Demetria  noticed Bruce still standing outside. She made her way out.

“Doing ok there?”

Bruce turned to her, smiling. “So far, so good.” 

“I love you but you’re not the best liar,” she chuckled, her fingers gently combing his hair. “Babe, if you want to leave, say the word and we’ll sneak out. We can go anywhere.” 

“Tempting,” he remarked, smirking. “Where do you propose we go?” 

She cocked her head back, shoulders shrugging. “Anywhere. We could literally get in a car and go anywhere we want.” She paused. “Anywhere you want.” 

Bruce’s body turned to face her, giving her his full undivided attention. She set her glass down on the railing. 

“While I think it’s sweet that you threw this for Harvey, I don’t want to be alone in a room with people I don’t know let alone give a shit about. I would rather be with you in the middle of nowhere where we don’t have to pretend we’re people that we’re not.”

His smile faltered, his eyes going to the ground. Demeteria shoulders tightened, fear creeping into her now uneasy stomach.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “What did I do?” 

He shook his head. “No, you did nothing wrong. It’s...” He sighed. “I never want to keep anything from you.” 

“What have you been keeping from me?” she questioned, her voice low 

He scanned the area as well as the inside of the ballroom. Realizing he wasn’t the safest, let alone most secure place, he leaned closer toward her. “I’ll go in the bedroom and grab a couple things. Go tell Alfred we’re heading out. We’ll meet at the elevator, alright?” 

“Bruce-.” 

He kissed her cheek and made his way inside. Bruce pushed through the crowd, fielding attempts of conversation from partygoers. She threw her hands up in defeat as an annoyed exhale left her mouth. 

“At least we’re leaving,” she muttered under her breath.

========================================================

In their bedroom, Bruce grabbed a set of keys for one of the cars from his safe in their closet. Realizing it was probably best to bring her anxiety med, he went into the medicine cabinet only to find it wasn’t there. 

He then remembered her saying she always kept it in the drawer in her nightside table. 

Figuring she put it back, he went over to it and opened the drawer and there it was. When he pulled it out, he noticed an envelope underneath with ‘For Batman’ written on it. 

He quickly glanced back at the door to make sure the door was closed. He then set down the bag and opened the envelope to find a handwritten letter.

My Night Friend ,

There’s something you need to know about that viral video of the copycat. 

I recognize the kitchen in the video. It’s the Fatted Calf on East 28th. A guy I briefly saw in college worked there and I hung out with him in the kitchen while he was closing up the shop. 

What people don’t know is that there’s a secret room. The guy told me the owner had it made to be used as a bomb shelter back in the day. It’s located right beside the freezer. If you can get into the boss’ office, there’s a special key inside a safe that can open the door. The Joker may be taking shelter in there. 

Take what you will with this information. I hope it serves you well.

Sincerely,

Your Rooftop Friend 

Bruce’s couldn’t believe what he was reading. His fiancé, the love of his life, was helping the Batman. The severity of the situation as well as time the huge piece of information made him realize he needed to get both of them out of the penthouse and into the Batcave. He could explain everything to her there. 

Shoving the letter into the bag, he zipped it up and made his way to the door when something on the security camera screen made him stop. 

It was The Joker followed by some henchmen. 

He threw the bag in the closet hurriedly, closing the door, and made his way to the party. Seeing Harvey Dent close by talking to Rachel, he figured he’d had enough time to get Harvey to safety and then grab Demetria. 

He came up behind Harvey, putting Harvey in a headlock as Rachel’s eyes widened in fear. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” she exclaimed. 

“They’re coming for him,” Bruce said, using his Batman voice. “Go grab her and get yourselves to safety.”

========================================================

Demetria spotted Alfred near the wall area. She made her way over, catching the old man’s attention. 

“There you Miss Gallagher,” he greeted. “Are you having fun?”

“I feel like a zoo animal. I’ve had more people stare at me than actually talk to me. Anyway, Bruce and I are heading out.” 

Alfred chuckled. “You and Master Wayne are a truly perfect fit.” 

She eyed the room before leaning closer toward Alfred. “Alfred, he said he had something he’d been meaning to tell me. Any idea what it could be?” 

Just then, the sound of a single gunshot silence the room. Everyone turned, including Demetria and Alfred, to see The Joker, the man from the video, enter the ballroom with his posse of men behind him wearing clown masks. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted in a sing-song voice. 

His posse pointed guns at the crowd, a silent order to step back. The crowd formed a circle around The Joker. 

Alfred, who was a few rows behind the crowd, stood in front of Demetria. 

“Stay behind me,” he whispered to her. 

She watched from behind his shoulder. 

The sound of tray hitting the ground, broke the silence. The Joker looked back for a moment before turning back to the crowd. 

“We are...tonight’s entertainment.” He grabbed a piece of shrimp from a table, stuffing it into his mouth. He looked around. “Only one question - where is Harvey Dent?”

He eyed around, pointing the gun at a group of women before ripping one of their glasses of champagne from their hands and taking a swig of it. He set back on the table and began questioning those he passed, occasionally grabbing at them. 

“You know where Harvey is? Do you know who he is?”

He squeezed one guy’s cheek. “Do you know where Harvey is? I need to talk to him about something. Something little.” 

He went up to an old white man. “You know I’ll settle for his loved ones.” 

Meanwhile, Demetria felt someone grab her hand. She turned to find Rachel. 

“We need to get you out of here,” Rachel whispered. 

Demetria went to follow Rachel when she felt someone grab her hand. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going, sweetcheeks?” one of the masked men retorted. 

He grabbed Demetria, despite her attempts to break free. Her heart rate quickened, stomach growing weak as the man pushed her in front of the crowd. 

“Hey boss!” He called out. “It’s her!”

The Joker turned to her, his fixation on her making her blood run cold. She stood frozen and helpless. He got into her face. “So this is the future Mrs. Wayne. You’re also Harvey Dent’s best friend.” 

He grabbed Demetria’s face, cradling it forcefully. 

“Harvey is your best friend, isn’t he? Your buddy ol pal?” He let out a vicious cackle. “Possibly an old lover? An unrequited love? Either way, you’re somewhat of an asset to him.”

She moved her eyes, looking around as the crowd watched her in fear.

“C'mere, look at me.” 

She whimpered, closing her eyes. 

He tightened his grip on her hair “LOOK AT ME!” 

She yelped, opening her eyes as tears filled to the brim.

“Please,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh shh, shh, shh,” he hushed her teasingly. “Well you look upset.” He asked, pointing to scars on his mouth with his knife. “Is it these? Is it the scars? You wanna know how I got ‘em?”

She didn’t have time to answer, at least he didn’t bother to give her a chance to. She went to move her head when he grabbed her again. “Hey, look at me.”

She stopped moving, her eyes on him. “So, I had a wife, who was beautiful...like you, who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks.” 

She squirmed when The Joker pulled her back. “One day they carve her face. And we got no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again. Hmm? I just wanted to let her know that I don't care about the scars. So, I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. ”

She squeaked, frightened as he put the knife to his scars. 

“And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves! Now I see the funny side. Now, I'm always smiling!” 

He pulled her back, took the knife, and slashed her forearm, the sharp stinging, sensation causing her to let out a blood curdling scream.  She collapsed onto the ground, blood spilling down her arm and onto the marble floor. 

Demetria couldn’t move, her body frozen, mind unable to process what had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, her chest stinging in pain and her head growing lightheaded as the Joker stepped on her bleeding arm.

“Please help me,” she begged in between her hyperventilating. “Please...I’m...I can’t...help!”

“Why doesn’t Harvey Dent come save his best friend?!” The Joker called out.

“Let her go!”

Rachel made her way. The Joker stomped on Demetria’s arm one last time.

Alfred rushed to her side. “Deep breaths, Miss,” he whispered. “Deep breaths.” 

“Alfred...I’m gonna....don’t let me...” 

“You’re going to be alright.” 

“Step back!” one of the masked henchman ordered, pointing a gun at Alfred. 

Alfred held up his hands stepping back from Demetria. The henchman walked away as Demetria continued to hyperventilate. 

She was going to die in front of everyone. Her vision became blurry, her breath uncontrollable. She watched in what she thought would be her final moments Batman attack The Joker. 

In and out of blackness, she heard glass shatter followed by footsteps. 

Tears strolled down her face as she struggled to breathe, trying to hold on to whatever breath she had left, her body shivering. Alfred rushed to her once again.

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried out. “Someone call a bloody ambulance!” 

He gave Demetria his hand, which she held onto tightly. 

“Stay with me,” he told her. “Stay with me.” 

But she wasn’t sure how long she could last. Between the chest pains and the pains from her wound and the light-headedness, she was barely holding on. 

How badly she wanted to see Bruce....and how could he leave her like this?

__________________________________________________________________

Dress: 

Hair/Makeup:

[stshyt]

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[annecoulmanross]

Thoughts on “Terror of the Arctic” (2005), aka, “I listened to the Doctor Who audio drama episodes about the lost Franklin Expedition so that you don’t have to!”

Alright terror-friends, this was not how I expected to spend my day, but I have now listened to all eight episodes of the 2005 Doctor Who Audio Drama series “Terror of the Arctic,” featuring all of the ~ familiar ~ icy ~ boys ~ meeting the infamous Doctor. 

With arguably more horrifying sexist/racist content than the 2007 Simmons novel, this audio drama actually predicted a lot of the tropes that Simmons popularized, including ship-board conflicts that escalate to stabbings, the appearance of supernatural creatures from Inuit oral traditions, and even a squick-y romance between Crozier and a much younger Inuit woman. 

To clarify, I do not recommend you listen to these episodes. They’re a hot mess, and a really jarring departure from the beauty of The Terror (2018). 

HOWEVER I highly recommend you look below the cut for episode-by-episode notes about the first Franklin Expedition adaptation that has well and truly driven me up the wall. So, welcome to the world of “Terror of the Arctic” (2005), featuring:

Crozier, (pronounced "Crow-zee-eyy,”) a polite door-mat of a captain with an agonizing lack of snark and minimal personality beyond “the only white man who can magically fix racism.” 

Fitzjames the “proper English officer” who has every prejudice you can imagine – and a couple more you can’t. 

Le Vesconte, the irrepressible lad with an inexplicable American accent and extreme boy-scout-gone-crazy energy. 

Sgt. Tozer, who has a bad habit of punching people in the face even though his superior officers haven’t yet told him he’s allowed to do so. 

Also featuring: Cybernetic Tuunbaq aliens! Complete breakdown of shipboard protocol! Expected amounts of cannibalism! And more! (spoilers, obviously) 

Episode 1

– We start with a mandatory brief appearance from the Doctor and his companion Christine. I don’t (initially) hate this iteration of the Doctor – he’s very paternalistic and old-fashioned, but at least the voice actor’s competent. Christine’s voice, tragically, is high-pitched beyond all reason and laced with a variety of odd dialectical features. Some quick research reveals she’s supposed to be a 15 year old from medieval England. She sounds neither like a teenager nor a medieval person. From the very beginning, her character seems very infantilized, and plays into a lot of the Born Sexy Yesterday tropes, even if she and the Doctor aren’t a thing. 

– Next, we have Sir John Franklin giving the “we’ve been stuck in the ice for nine months, here’s what you missed” sum-up. 

– Sir John’s voice is gravelly 👏 as 👏 fuck; also, I don’t think that the phrase “to sugar-coat it” was a common 1840s expression? Correct me if I’m wrong history folks.

– Crozier shows up to give his “we should start walking out now” speech, minus any passion or conviction whatsoever; he bends immediately to Franklin’s whims. Crozier’s voice is quite high-pitched, and Sir John pronounces his name “Crow-zee-eyy.” (Update: everyone pronounces it this way!!! Uhmmm!) Though I struggle to judge accents, Crozier’s Irish accent sounds... leprechaun-ish. It’s not Jared Harris by a long mile. 

– Not gonna lie, I kind of love how much Fitzjames sounds like a posh bastard. He immediately gets into a one-sided shouting match with Crozier and has to be reprimanded by Franklin. 

– Lieutenant Irving appears on the scene; I don’t know what Irving’s accent is, but it sure is something.

– All of the officers seem to currently be on the same ship for some reason but I don’t know why. We’ve met Sir John, Crozier, Fitzy, and Irving, and Gore’s been mentioned, as have doctors Peddie and Stanley. And they’re all in the same boat. Guess we’re just ignoring Terror for now? 

– Franklin begins narrating as he writes in the log-book: “11th June, 1847.” Oh BOY guess what day it is!!

– RIP Franklin (surprise, surprise). We have no real idea yet how this has happened. 

– Fitzjames, talking to Sir John’s mysterious corpse: “Captain, what could have done this to you?” 

– Fitzjames: “We have a killer loose on this ship” (Fitz gets ALL the best lines, apparently. Do they make sense? No. Are they hilarious? Yes.)

– Irving is shockingly nonchalant when the Doctor and Christine appear from nowhere out on the ice. Why is Irving so chill when he thinks that these two people are the lone survivors of a DIFFERENT failed expedition?

– Fitz apparently has refused to let Crozier start the walk-out after Franklin died. (Um, that’s not how the chain of command works?)  

– We learn that Beechey-boy Braine apparently died of sudden-onset-scurvy. What is sudden-onset-scurvy, you ask? We do not yet know. 

– Irving, happily describing their recent course of action: “...Ignoring the advice of our ships’ ice masters...” Oh god Irving don’t sound so happy about that. Blanky’s going to take an ice-axe to your head. (Tragically, Blanky does not appear in this show.) 

– Lieutenant Gore has ALSO died of sudden-onset-scurvy. RIP Graham Gore.

– Is the Doctor going to focus on the existence of sudden-onset-scurvy? No, we’re gonna hyperfixate on the high officers-to-crew death rate! And he’s going to infodump about officers’ privileges TO Irving, an officer, and muse about how odd it is that more officers than crew are dying when the officers get all the best food! 

– Fitz, the “proper English officer” apparently has managed to get about half the men to refuse to follow the orders of their expedition commander, because he happens to be Irish. Babe, this is a really bad look!

– Irving, our good Christian Irving, just swore “By Jove” in a weirdly sexy voice.

– Tozer has Extreme Deep Voice.

– Irving: “There’s something odd about them I just don’t trust.” Why on earth wouldn’t you trust two strangers who wandered up to you on the ice and asked if you were “human,” John Irving? What’s “odd” about that?

– The Doctor only remembers that he does actually know the events of the Franklin expedition after he reads the entire Victory Point Note. 

– Irving has suddenly decided to threaten to shoot the Doctor and his companion. Irving promptly gets attacked. 

* jarring transition to triumphant Doctor Who music *

Episode 2

– The ~mysterious~ attack on Irving has left weird wounds on Irving’s neck. I’m calling it, Ice Vampires!

– We have an Edward Little appearance! His voice is so sweet and gentle! And then... “I’ll have Sergeant Tozer shoot you both where you stand!” Okay, maybe not... (Update: Little is, in fact, very awful to several people. As we will see, all of the lieutenants and marines swing between weirdly nonchalant dudes and trigger-happy maniacs.) 

– Tozer just punched the Doctor’s lights out, unprompted. 

– Crozier: “Good old John Peddie... he’s like a brother to me.” Well THAT’S not a friendship I expected.

– So Dr. Peddie has brought a young Inuit woman in to Crozier’s cabin to have a “lovely chat.” Awkward book!Crozier/Silna energies. The woman’s name is Liak. She speaks with a vaguely Spanish and/or Italian accent. 

– Liak: “I have been with my tribe. They would not allow me to come back to see you.” /  Crozier: “Why? It’s not because of Fitzjames is it?” 

– (It’s not because of Fitzjames. It’s because of evil spirits, obviously.)

– The Doctor, once they get back to the ships, explaining to the higher officers what’s happened: “Mr. Tozer got all excited and could no longer restrain his Neanderthal-like impulse to start clubbing things.” Boy this by show is NOT for Tozer fans. (Note: Tozer is standing right there? In the room? When the Doctor says this?)

– The Doctor just dropped an f-bomb?????????? And not as an expression of shock, but a hard-core sexual use of the f-bomb. Literally, he said “you can let Tozer fuck me again” – did I mishear this????????????

– Irving’s dying words: “I was attacked by a large silver creature with claws!” Wait did Dan Simmons rip off a fan-made 2005 Doctor Who Audio Drama?

– RIP Irving, first confirmed victim of “Tuunbaq the First.”

– Fitzjames is SO racist, throwing around a lot of “savage” and “barbarian” words. Why are you letting this man walk all over you, Crozier?

– Crozier: the first person who has the correct reaction to two weirdos appearing on his boat (aka shock and surprise, rather than worrying nonchalance followed by unprompted extreme aggression.)

– Fitzjames literally laughed after being informed that Irving is dead. (Like Crozier’s bad Raft of the Medusa joke, but SO MUCH WORSE.) 

– RIP Ice Master Reid, actual first confirmed kill of “Tuunbaq pre-Tuunbaq,” several weeks ago, apparently??

– Okay so Fitz here is obviously meant to be a horrible person, but I have to acknowledge that he’s making a few good points: (1) the Doctor has admitted that he has a “sailable” ship, and it’s pretty rude of him to not even explain why he’s unwilling to help these dying men, and (2) it’s been bothering me the whole episode that the Doctor hasn’t been calling officers by their titles, and frankly, I do think Fitz is within his rights to demand the Doctor call him “Captain Fitzjames” rather than “Mr. Fitzjames” on Fitz’s own ship. Like, it’s not that hard.

– The Doctor’s first example of “ways the Franklin crew could mess up the time stream” is the insane scenario: “what if one of them married the mother of Winston Churchill.”

– The “Tuunbaq: The Prequel” can talk!!!!!! “Hello meat!!!” it says, gleefully. 

– Tozer is just the fucking most. He punched the Doctor AGAIN.

– Crozier just “Mr. Fitzjames”ed Fitz!! And Fitz backed down! Crozier finally grew a spine! Just in time to decide to commandeer the Doctor’s ship. 

– The Doctor’s ship inevitably disappears before it can be commandeered. Because of course. (Things and people disappear and get transported to different places and later times all through these episodes for timey~wimey~reasons.) 

Episode 3

– A conversation between the two named female characters (Liak and the Doctor’s companion Christine)! What will they talk about? ...Their dead fathers. Ah. Hmm.

– This show is not sophisticated enough to handle a “white man’s disease killed my father” subplot. And yet, Liak’s father died of TB he contracted from the white men. I’m *worried*

– To help Liak overcome the superstitious antagonism of her “tribe” after her father’s death, Crozier apparently gave a bunch of food to the Inuit, which is  an... interesting take. (One Irishman’s grand gesture fixes racism!)

– Magical Inuit shaman powers are only inherited through the male line (The racism and sexism in this is palpable.)

– So “Tuunbag Episode I: Revenge of the the Tuunbaq” is actually a larger coalition of aliens, run by a being called “Matriarx.” Can we decide whether woman are powerless victims or power-hungry monsters, please? Both is just greedy.

– RIP Strong (another tragic case of the triple threat: sudden onset scurvy, lead poisoning, AND Tuunbaq attack)

– Wait WAIT the Tuunbaq gave Strong the lead poisoning AND the scurvy by biting his neck and sucking his blood, stealing nutrients and leaving lead in their place: Ice Vampires!! I called it!!!

– Groups of people Fitz has verbally degraded: the Irish, the Inuit, all women, and now “common folk.”

Episode 4

– Le Vesconte’s first lines! He sounds like a Boy Scout, by which I mean he sounds about 16, and has an American accent? Also, Fitz pronounces his name “Leh-vay-cont” 

– An AB named “Seeley” is writing an account of the events that are happening, perhaps as this show’s version of Bridgens and/or Peglar? Also Fitz is REALLY opposed to Seeley writing this, because Fitz hates “common folk” that much, apparently? 

– RIP Seeley, we hardly knew ye. 

– Major episode events: the walk-out begins, leaving Terror and Erebus just as the boats slip into another dimension because of alien reasons (this didn’t age well, now that we have the shipwrecks). Also, there’s an Inuit woman who is in league with the cybernetic-alien-Tuunbaq-vampires. 

Episode 5

– As soon as the walk-out begins, the cybernetic-alien-Tuunbaq-vampires begin attacking. 

– Boy Scout Le Vesconte: “I have an idea! If bullets won’t stop them maybe an axe will!” I mean, this is stupid enough for our Dundy, but he follows it up with “Murderers! I’ll hack you to pieces!” and rushes them like a child and has to be rescued. (Also Crozier is way WAY more concerned for Le Vesconte than Fitz is, though Fitz leaps into the rescue effort and Crozier... does not do that. He’s doing a lot of standing on the sidelines and bemoaning his dying men.)

– Peddie is basically just Crozier’s all-purpose lieutenant at this point. Little and Hodgson whomst? 

– Le Vesconte, Fitz, and Tozer get struck by lightning WHILE fighting the Tuunbaq, and some Frankenstein stuff seems to happen, because Fitz now has the munchies. But like, the ominous munchies. 

– Le Vesconte’s in something like a coma. The dumb boy-scout. 

– While explaining why the Netsilik have legends about these aliens as “evil spirits,” the Doctor implies that errors in the historical record happen “especially” in oral traditions. Can we stop insulting the Inuit oral historians please?  

– The cybernetic-vampire-aliens can mind-control their victims sometimes. Calling it now: Fitzjames is under the mind-control already. 

– Liak is revealed to possibly be in cahoots with the aliens, because she has a necklace that her sister gave her that’s actually an alien tracker. 

– Fitzjames, upon learning that Liak may be in league with aliens, attempts to physically kill her with his bare hands, and has to be restrained. 

– Crozier hears murmurs about mutiny, and assigns this poor Marine named Hopcraft to find out more about the mutiny and report back to him. Next morning: RIP Hopcraft, first victim of the “we’re knifing each other” stage of events (aka this show’s Irving.)

Episode 6

– Lieutenant Little, who got separated from Fitzjames and Crozier, tries to comfort ship’s boy Chambers, whose use of the term “panic attacks” is a little anachronistic; a small gripe in the grand scheme of things.

– The Tuunbaq-aliens attack Little’s camp and wipe them all out, leaving Little to the last. Edward Little, a British Christian naval officer in the 1840s, gasps out “I’ll see you in Hades” as his dying words. (Someone write me Little/Irving neo-pagan fanfic for this mess?)

– The Doctor is playing detective, trying to solve Hopcraft’s death. He finds footprints, and both Liak and Tozer are missing. 

– The Doctor calls attention to Tozer’s “enormous feet.” Weird.

– We have our first cannibalism! Perpetrated by Tozer, and uhhhh oh great we’re eating Dr. MacDonald for dinner tonight.

– Le Vesconte woke up from his coma just in time to brain Tozer to death.

– The Doctor: “There were no women’s bones at any of the sites [of the lost expedition remains]” that’s a hilarious comment given that one study suggesting as many as four female skeletons.

– RIP Le Vesconte, from his wounds, offscreen!! Nooo!!

– Tozer (and Fitzjames, and a few others), because they all got struck by the lightning, now have Frankenstein’s cannibalism curse. They all hunger for human flesh.

– Fitzjames is now a sneaky murderer-cannibal who manages to gain Crozier’s trust before turning around and trying to butcher him. As least my evil boy is smart? 

Episode 7

– The big bad reveal: it’s Liak’s secret evil sister! (Just like Season 4 of Sherlock!) She’s been helping the Tuunbaq-aliens the whole time because she hates white men! Because they gave her dad TB and one of them broke her heart! Thanks, it’s bad! 

– The Tuunbaq-aliens eat Liak’s sister anyway because they do not care. 

– Liak, Crozier, the Doctor, and Christine are left to defeat the Tuunbaq-aliens. 

– Fitz feels a little bad about eating people I guess? Also Fitz is “weak” and can’t resist his hunger and all those fun tropes.

Episode 8

– Fitzjames gets a redemption arc via heroic self-sacrifice narrative, complete with death via horrid gurgling. “He sacrificed himself in a last act of humanity.”

– The Doctor agrees to give Crozier a lift to somewhere a bit further south, on the assumption that Crozier will settle down with Liak and live with some “tribe” of other Inuit people that neither of them have ever met. 

– There’s a parting joke about Crozier enjoying drinking wine that did NOT age well.

And that’s all, folks! Hope you... enjoyed? 

[ericdeggans]

A Tale of Two Videos: Why the Images of George Floyd Dying Broke the Nation

Why is the footage of George Floyd dying beneath a policeman’s knee the video that finally broke the nation?

I actually think the story of our current public chaos stems from two videos, brought to the public at nearly the same time, that outline both ends of a system which elevates white, moneyed people at the expense of everyone else -- especially those of us who are darker than blue.

In one, a white woman threatens a black man by telling him she will call the police and lie about him threatening her life. In another, a black man is pinned down by several police officers, pleading for help to breathe, until he dies.

One video shows the nightmare of overpolicing black bodies; losing your life because a store clerk thought you tried to pay with a counterfeit bill. The other shows a white woman well aware of the power that such overpolicing gives people like her when she calls 9-1-1. She knows – and assumes the black man she’s threatening also knows – whose interests will be defended, possibly with lethal force, when officers arrive.

Amy Cooper’s confrontation with Christian Cooper and the death of George Floyd have revealed the full scope of white supremacy non-white people live with every day in America. We have been talking about it for a long time; I wrote a book about it in 2012. But it is a reality many other Americans will not believe, until someone grabs a cellphone at a fateful moment, records it, and shows it to them. Again and again.

Because we have seen these videos before. We saw Philando Castile, a black man filmed in his last moments by his girlfriend, shot by a police officer during a traffic stop. We saw John Crawford, a black man who was going to buy a pellet gun at WalMart, shot to death by police within seconds of their arrival at the store after a 9-1-1 call. We saw 12-year-old Tamir Rice, playing with a toy gun in a park, gunned down within seconds of a police car driving on the scene.  

We saw Levar Jones, a black man who survived being shot by a cop during a traffic stop at a gas station as he was retrieving his license (the reason the cop stopped him? He was driving without a seat belt just before turning into the gas station.)

Eric Garner. Darrien Hunt. Botham Jean. The list of black people hurt or killed by police under suspicious circumstances is long and infuriating. How can a white college student suspected in the murders of two people who inspired a nationwide manhunt get taken into custody without incident, while a black man accused of passing a bad $20 bill winds up dead on a street, killed in broad daylight while cellphone cameras captured it all?

Beyond the frustration of the rising body count, there is frustration at the high price America demands before it will believe there is a problem in the first place.

People of color constantly have to rip open their wounds to prove to white America that racism is killing us. The videos are a blur of bottomless tragedy; a parade of pain where victims are often left screaming at officers: What did I do? Why won’t you help me?

And every time a new video emerges, black America asks that same question of the nation.

The challenge we face is summed up in a statistic from my book. I quoted a September 2011 study which found 46 percent of Americans believe discrimination against white people had become as big a problem as discrimination against racial minorities.

A study published in November 2017 by NPR, the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and Harvard University’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health came up with different numbers. In that study, 55 percent of white Americans said discrimination against white people exists and 63 percent of white Americans said local police were just as likely to use unnecessary force against white people as non-white people.

This is the question at the heart of so many political and social conflicts in America: The fight over the very existence of systemic racism and prejudice.

It’s one reason conservative-oriented Fox News Channel is often so tone deaf on issues of race. Many of the channel’s pundits resist the idea that systemic racism against people of color is a serious issue. Lots of conservatives have decried George Floyd’s death; but the question of whether that death is a result of a few bad cops acting out or a result of systemic overpolicing and overpunishing people of color is the real dividing line in this crisis.

When Fox News anchor Tucker Carlson interviewed Ted Cruz on the unrest in Minneapolis, both men were careful to note they were horrified by the actions of one officer, while extolling the bravery of most police officers. But what about the notion that police officers work inside a flawed system that can shield bad cops and make it tougher for good officers, regardless of their race, to stop something terrible as it is happening?

This “one bad apple” idea – a notion expertly dismantled by comedian Chris Rock years ago – was also advanced by White House National Security Advisor Robert O’Brien Sunday on Jake Tapper’s CNN show State of the Union.

“I don’t think there’s systemic racism,” O’Brien said during one exchange with Tapper, before praising “99.9 percent” of police officers. “But you know what, there are some bad apples in there.”

Given all the videos we all have seen of black people hurt or killed unfairly by law enforcement in recent years, that sure seems like a lot of bad apples. And again the question rises: How many videos do you need to see, before you consider another possibility? How much pain leads to contemplating another explanation?  

Of course, Donald Trump has only made a volatile situation worse. I think his actions are summed up by a phrase I read or heard someone else say about him years ago: He can’t help saying the quiet part out loud.

So when Trump tweeted about the unrest in Minneapolis on Friday, he called protestors “thugs” – a word sometimes used as demeaning code for unruly black people – and dropped the phrase “when the looting starts, the shooting starts.” That’s a saying traced back to a speech by 1960s-era Miami police chief Walter Headley, often accused of racist policing tactics during the civil rights era.

In another tweet, Trump promised protestors who came close to breaching the White House fence would be “greeted with the most vicious dogs, and most ominous weapons,” invoking another terrible image from the 1960s, when segregationist police would use attack dogs to break up civil rights marches.

The quiet part. Tweeted out loud.

As cable TV news was filled with reports on looting and unrest in cities across the country, I was struck by a tweet from celebrity comic Chelsea Handler, who posted “Something for all white people to think about. Reflect on our privilege and ask ourselves if we’ve ever had to protest for the lives of our white brothers and sisters.”

With all respect, I suggested something a little different. Perhaps white people should find one element in their lives that supports or reflects white supremacy: that Fox News-loving relative, the pal who posts terrible things on Facebook or the boss/coworker who says awful things about non-white people when he thinks they aren’t listening (guess what: we usually know, anyway).

Find one element and do something to address it. Do what you can to dismantle the system where you can.

Beyond that, governmental leaders of all stripes need to learn that platitudes and the “one bad apple” philosophy will not satisfy people who feel like an endangered species in their own country.

Don’t make us rip open another wound to prove something we have been telling you for a long time. Maybe this time, when black people say they need help, you could just listen. And then help.  

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M 

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you for all of the comments and reblogs! This was a much darker chapter to write! I hope you guys like it! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                         Chapter Nine

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." -William Congreve, 1697

The rain had stopped long ago, but the puddle from the aftermath collected at the bottom of her feet and up to her very edge of her dress. She ignored the numbing feeling it brought on by the cold air, her mind still reeling from before. As the sun finally broke through the clouds, offering with it a little warmth, she finally stood up. Agatha ventured towards the edge of the balcony and looked out. It was a beautiful sight to behold if she was to be honest.

For the briefest of brief moments, a part of her wondered what would happen if she merely flung herself off the edge. Down, down, down to the solid ground below. But the bigger and better part of her waved away that feeling. That same urging need to fulfill her grandfather's dying wishes. Her family's pact. So she turned around and strode with purpose back into the dark castle.

"Emotion is a weakness, Agatha. It kills. Murders. If you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. Look at where it got me. Your father. Be hardened. Don't let yourself become a victim. Love leads only to pain. Save yourself the trouble. There is no happiness at the end of a rainbow."

Abraham watched as Agatha cradled the dead rabbit in her arms. It had been a pet she'd kept hidden from the older man. But he had found it and did what he claimed was best for his granddaughter. The girl looked up at him with a tear streaked face, anger fierce in her blue eyes.

"I hate you!" She snapped. "I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!"

"You'll understand with time what I did for you was in your best favor." He said quietly, turning his back on the girl. "Now drop it and come inside. It's getting dark and it isn't safe to be out in the opening when it is."

It was quiet. The air still around her. The only sound that broke the silence being her wet feet as she walked across the stone floor leaving damp footprints in her wake. Agatha's eyes scanned the area around her. No sign of Dracula. Good. Maybe he had turned in for the morning. That would make things easier. Not that the idea of a good, solid fight wasn't overly tempting.

Descending the staircase, she made her way over to the table where the stake still lay untouched. She picked it up, examining it closely. The wood was carefully carved, free of splintered. Agatha couldn't ask for a more perfect weapon. Had the Count really been that reckless as to leave something like this out? Perhaps he no longer worried that she was a threat. The idea of such a thing only made her blood boil even more.

"Don't you have any family Anyone who cares for you?"

Agatha stood outside of the infirmary as they lay a blanket over Abraham Van Helsing's corpse. The only other person in the world she knew was gone. Perhaps she had an extended family, but she knew not where they were or had any means of contact. Her grandfather had made sure of that. Separation was safe. Something he'd taught her.

"No." She answered quietly, finally addressing the young woman who spoke to her. A nun of all people. "I don't."

"Oh," the nun said softly. "That must be very lonely. Surely you need someone."

"I don't mind it." Agatha said with a half smile. "Sometimes it's better that way. You don't get hurt. Or broken. Perhaps being by myself was what life always had in store for me." That and her mission to end Count Dracula. "I'll manage."

"But you don't need to." And the woman rested a hand on Agatha's arm. "Come with me to my convent. You'll be welcomed there. You don't have to be alone. God always has room for another."

Religion. Christianity. The young Van Helsing gazed down at the nun's hand. To be somewhere. Maybe able to find herself. Maybe able to study more in the process. Had she much of a choice? What money had Abraham left anyway? Barely a cent to his name. Agatha thought long and hard before inhaling deeply.

"Okay," she finally decided. "Okay."

What exactly would happen when she struck him deep within his chest? Would he immediately turn into dust? Burst into a flaming pillar? The possibilities seemed endless as Agatha traveled down the all too familiar path towards Dracula's coffin. She'd be quick. No hesitation. If she should show the slightest amount of pause, he'd be able to take advantage of the situation quickly.

Her still mending hand began to sting from how hard she was gripping her weapon. But she ignored the pain. Ignored how chilled her wet feet were against the stone. She was hellbent. Ambitious. Abraham would be proud. But the further she walked, the closer she got to the cellar, the more she began to wonder if she was really doing his bidding. Doing it in his honor. No. No, it was something else. Something Agatha was forcing herself not to think about.

"A nun's heart belongs to God and God alone. We embrace those around us, but our true love is to the Lord and his teachings."

Agatha sat on the opposite side of Mother Superior's desk, hands folded tightly in her lap. She hadn't been at St. Mary's Convent for very long, but already she was being assimilated in. The head nun wasn't as old as she had anticipated. A round face with a firm voice that still held some friendliness to it.

"I hold no intentions of romance," Agatha assured her. "I never have. You needn't worry about that."

Mother Superior smiled. "I'm not worried about you, Sister Agatha. There's something different about you. I'm not sure what, but I think you'll do well as a nun." She straightened up in her chair and held out her hand. Agatha took it without hesitation. "Welcome home, Sister. Welcome to your new family."

Slaughtered. Just like her rabbit. He'd slaughtered them all. Her family. Mother Superior. Each and every nun. Why had she allowed herself to forget that? Ignore what he had done. The horrors. The hatred. He hadn't batted an eye. So many lives lost and she forgave it. Or rather, from her actions, acted as such. She swallowed thickly. What was wrong with her? Agatha Van Helsing. Protector. Altruistic. Supposed to guard all those around her. A failure. Laughing stock. A singe on the Van Helsing ancestral lineage. Not anymore.

Her name was Mina. Frail. Blonde. Tiny little thing that had stumbled upon their convent in desperation. Agatha knew why. Jonathan Harker now in their care. Or what was left of him that was. The girl knew nothing of what vampires were. Sheltered from such tales. And yet, here she stood before the nun of all people. The woman who knew Count Dracula like that back of her hand. At least that is what she had convinced herself.

"I...I don't understand." The young woman stammered. "Johnny was attacked by a...vampire? But how could someone be so...cruel?"

"Not someone, something. A beast so vile has no heart, Mina. He's poison. Venomous. Count Dracula literally drains you dry. Takes away your life as if it were a mere scrap of spoiled meat." Agatha felt a little guilty for her words. For how timid the girl looked. But she needed to know the truth. "You are Christian, yes? Despite my status, I do not hold the same beliefs as you. But I swear to you, what attacked your Jonathan is the literal Satan."

"I cannot lie to you, Agatha." Mina murmured, nervously playing with her hair. "I'm frightened."

Her eyes were wide. So round. For a moment, Agatha thought she was gazing into her own reflection as a little girl. But immediately, she snapped back to her senses.

"You should fear him. Be terrified. Because the emptiness within him, any prospect of empathy or sympathy has been smothered." She finally answered.

"What must I do?" The girl asked, staring at Agatha as if she knew the answer to every question in the world. "What do I do?"

In that moment, Agatha really hadn't an answer. But she said what had been spoken to her so many times as a nun. "Pray, Mina. Pray for Jonathan. Pray for us all. And maybe, maybe someone above will listen." She paused before exhaling slowly. "Though, I can't say He's heard me yet."

Agatha approached the coffin that sat in the center of the room. No longer did boxes occupy it. Just the single casket. Fist still clenched around her weapon, the former nun managed to heave the lid open. There he lay. Still. Pale. Count Dracula in a deep slumber one might mistaken him for being dead. He was technically.

"End him."

The words rang in her head as if Abraham was speaking to her from beyond the grave.

"Do it!"

She raised the stake, positioning it over his chest. Over his heart. Her hands were trembling. Why was she shaking? Agatha sucked in a breath, trying to collect herself. This was it. Her life's work. Just one fluid motion and everything would be finished.

"Now!"

But before she had a chance to bring it down, Dracula's eyes flew open. In a matter of seconds, Agatha found herself thrust backwards. She collided with the stone, the wind knocked out of her by the motion. She panted, now face to face with the Count.

He had her pinned against the wall by the wrist, her hand still gripping the stake. Dracula's fingers tightened around her with such force he could have easily snapped the bones in two. But he didn't. Instead, he stared into her eyes. Expression still. Mouth pressed into a thin line. There was no malice. No resentment. Humor. He just stood there, holding her back.

"Abraham taught you well." The vampire stated. "Well. But not well enough."

"I sure as Hell plan to get farther than he ever did." Agatha spat back causing a small smile to cross the Count's features. "I don't plan on letting you live."

"Oh?" Dracula said, cocking an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Much to Agatha's confusion and alarm, he brought the fist that held the spike to his chest. Applying pressure, she could almost begin to feel it give way into his skin. Her eyes flickered from her hand, to the spike, and then his gaze. But instead of any reaction she'd expect, he merely gazed back at her emotionless.

"So do it," Dracula challenged. "End me, Agatha Van Helsing. If that's what you truly desire." He smiled and began to push harder. "End me."

[night-dragon937]

Finally Finished the Sanders Sides Set and Why I’ve Disappeared in September

First off, good stuff!!!!

Finally complete Logan cosplay!!!! (soooo difficult to find striped blue ties that aren’t 40-60 usd)

The tie is tied horribly and I have no clue how to make these smaller or I would, but all six!!

Proof ^^^^ lol

(note: i typed this up in the beginning of october and didn’t want to post it cause it made me feel bad. i’m feeling slightly less bad about it, so i’m going to post this before i just decide to delete it. but i want those of you who care to know to be able to know)

Aaaand the bad news. I’mma add a split right here in case you don’t want this negativity in your day, I totally understand!

tl;dr basically I didn’t have access to social media during september and atm i only have access to tumblr, and even then i’m risking a lot every time i use it-

below is what exactly transpired in that month...

A few of you know how bad my home life is (if you don’t, it’s pretty bad...)

After I told my therapist about the incident I posted about on here (I don’t expect you to go read it, there’s a ton of tw’s), she said that she was legally required to call CPS (child protection services) because it was an instance of child abuse (no way...). So they called the day after we made the report (which, i had an anxiety attack while retelling events cause it was fairly traumatic to me, as well as past events...) and my parents found out that I was involved in making the report. My (step)dad was ranting about how he’s such a great parent and now for some reason people and going to come and take his boys away (my younger half siblings, his blood children...) and he’s going to have to get a lawyer to keep his family intact. My mom was at work at the time.

She came home early, and the four of them had a private little talk upstairs, then they came down and mocked and berated me for telling anyone about what had happened. They blamed me for what I’ve gone through and told me to stop playing the victim. The lady came over and was rather sweet. She started off just asking questions, getting a feel for what was going on. My parents pretended to be very nice and very concerned. When we got down to the core of the issues (my queerness in relation to their christian beliefs), the lady revealed that she was a christian and totally understood why they were doing the things they were dong. she validated their actions. the exact ones that warranted a cps call for child abuse from my therapist and her clinical supervisor.

they kept acting like the things i was saying never happened, and lying right to the lady’s face and discounting anything i said, all four of them saying that i made things up and lied about things. they said that i was holding them hostage by threatening to kill myself. repeatedly. the only times i’ve mentioned wanting to was in the context of them being really toxic towards them and me attempting to listen to their request of me being open with them and letting them know how their actions and words were making me feel and asking them to stop because it was making me really bad. they lied to her and said horrible untrue things about me.

So my parents decided to take all social media away from me. they almost deleted my accounts. they disabled youtube and fucking chrome on my phone. i couldn’t open a single web page for a month (until i was able to borrow this laptop from the college). all my healthy coping mechanisms (looking up tiktoks/vines on youtube to distract myself, watching positivity vids on youtube, reading fluffy fics on ao3 to cheer myself up, looking up positive content on different social media platforms, getting validation from friends over social media, etc) were taken away. they then told me that if i accessed social media, they would take away my vehicle and phone. i drive half an hour to work most days, i need my vehicle. my work schedule is on my phone, i contact work and other people with my phone. i use music on my phone (my most important coping mechanism). they also are making me pay car insurance for my vehicle, do more chores, and requiring me to hang out with them more. those are whatever, i don’t care so much. but hanging out with them causes me to feel bad, and they took away most of my ways of feeling better. i’ve been doing so much better since i started secretly using tumblr, my mom even noticed the improvement in my mood.

so yeah if i don’t get back to you, don’t post as much, disappear for a couple days... it’s because they’re snoopy as fuck and i have to do a lot to cover my tracks so they won’t find out. also, i return this laptop at the beginning of december, so i will be gone that month. that one month of hell. i am trying to get a laptop that belongs to me, but those are expensive and i need to save money, relating to the incident that happened last week that is too raw to talk about publicly yet.

[rhyslucia]

If you're pro-military, you shouldn't vote for trump

"Some 489 national security experts — including 22 four-star officers — have endorsed Joe Biden for president.

'I believe the current administration is a real threat to the republic,' says Gen. Peter Chiarelli, who served as the Army's No. 2 officer before retiring in 2012. 'I had to stand up and be counted.'"

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If you're Christian, you shouldn't vote for trump

"While the president has delivered on some issues of concern to us, such as economic reforms and trade deals, his immigration policies are cruel, undermining his pledges to life and religious freedom. For instance, while we cherish unborn lives, we also value the lives of thousands of children who were separated from their mothers or fathers by the "zero tolerance" policies of the administration at the Mexican border in 2018.

Our commitment to life also compels us to do everything that we can to end human trafficking. The administration has decided to suspend the life saving elements of the Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act, the passage of which evangelical Christians proudly championed under George Bush and the flouting of which evangelical ministries like World Vision and International Justice Mission have decried.

Our convictions on life also are why we strongly believe the United States should continue to be, in the famous words of George Washington, "a safe and agreeable asylum to the virtuous and persecuted part of mankind, to whatever nation they might belong." Rather than continue the life saving tradition of asylum and resettlement of refugees, the administration has shut out persecuted refugees with its immigration policies."

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If you value American lives, you shouldn't vote for trump

“You just breathe the air and that’s how it’s passed,” he said in a Feb. 7 call with journalist Bob Woodward. “And so that’s a very tricky one. That’s a very delicate one. It’s also more deadly than even your strenuous flus.”

“This is deadly stuff,” he said.

At the time, Trump was telling Americans that the U.S. was in little danger and that the outbreak would soon go away on its own.

Asked about those statements in March, Trump said he wanted to downplay the threat. "I wanted to always play it down," Trump told Woodward. "I still like playing it down, because I don't want to create a panic."

In the same interview, he went on to acknowledge the gravity of the threat facing even young adults. "Just today and yesterday, some startling facts came out. It's not just old, older. Young people too, plenty of young people," Trump said.

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Are you, or have you ever met a woman? If so, you shouldn't vote for trump

Donald Trump, current president of the United States, has been accused of rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment, including non-consensual kissing or groping, by at least 25 women since the 1970s.[1][2] The accusations have resulted in three much reported instances of litigation: his then-wife Ivana made a rape claim during their 1989 divorce litigation but later recanted that claim;[3] businesswoman Jill Harth sued Trump in 1997 alleging breach of contract while also suing for nonviolent sexual harassment but withdrew the latter suit as part of a settlement for relating to the former suit; and, in 2017, former The Apprentice contestant Summer Zervos filed a defamation lawsuit after Trump called her a liar.[4]

Trump in 2017

Two of the allegations (by Ivana Trump and Jill Harth) became public before Trump's candidacy for president, but the rest arose after a 2005 audio recording was leaked during the 2016 presidential campaign. Trump was recorded bragging that a celebrity like himself "can do anything" to women, including "just start kissing them ... I don't even wait" and "grab 'em by the pussy". Trump subsequently characterized those comments as "locker room talk" and denied actually behaving that way toward women, and he also apologized for the crude language. Many of his accusers stated that Trump's denials provoked them into going public with their allegations.

Another type of accusation was made, primarily after the audio recording surfaced, by several former Miss USA and Miss Teen USA contestants, who accused Trump of entering the dressing rooms of beauty pageant contestants. Trump, who owned the Miss Universe franchise, which includes both pageants, was accused of going into dressing rooms in 1997, 2000, 2001, and 2006, while contestants were in various stages of undress. Trump had already referred to this practice during a 2005 interview on The Howard Stern Show, saying he could "get away with things like that" because he owned the beauty pageants the women and girls were competing in.

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Do you support racism? If not, you shouldn't vote for trump

In unguarded moments with senior aides, President Trump has maintained that Black Americans have mainly themselves to blame in their struggle for equality, hindered more by lack of initiative than societal impediments, according to current and former U.S. officials.

After phone calls with Jewish lawmakers, Trump has muttered that Jews “are only in it for themselves” and “stick together” in an ethnic allegiance that exceeds other loyalties, officials said.

Trump’s private musings about Hispanics match the vitriol he has displayed in public, and his antipathy to Africa is so ingrained that when first lady Melania Trump planned a 2018 trip to that continent he railed that he “could never understand why she would want to go there.”

When challenged on these views by subordinates, Trump has invariably responded with indignation. “He would say, ‘No one loves Black people more than me,’ ” a former senior White House official said. The protests rang hollow because if the president were truly guided by such sentiments he “wouldn’t need to say it,” the official said. “You let your actions speak.”

In Trump’s case, there is now a substantial record of his actions as president that have compounded the perceptions of racism created by his words

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Do you enjoy advances made by science? If so, you shouldn't vote for trump

The Trump administration and 115th Congress have been actively dismantling science-based health and safety protections, sidelining scientific evidence, and undoing recent progress on scientific integrity.

Below is a running list of attacks on science—disappearing data, silenced scientists, and other assaults on scientific integrity and science-based policy. The list provides a representative sample of threats to the federal scientific enterprise.

FDA Now Lacks Authority to Halt Use of Inaccurate Coronavirus Tests

In a move strongly opposed by FDA officials, the agency will no longer use science-based checks to regulate a broad swathe of laboratory tests, including coronavirus tests.

CDC Coronavirus Testing Guidelines Were Modified by Political Officials to be Less Scientific

The White House’s Coronavirus Task Force and HHS changed the novel coronavirus testing guidelines on the CDC website to fall out of line with the best available science.

EPA Refuses to Regulate Rocket Fuel Chemical in Drinking Water

The EPA has officially announced that it will not regulate perchlorate, a common ingredient of explosives and rocket fuel, in the nation’s drinking water supplies.

Fetal Tissue Research Blocked by a Biased Advisory Committee

13 out of 14 NIH grants submitted since September 2019 that involve fetal tissue are likely to be rejected based solely on the recommendations of the Human Fetal Tissue Research Ethics Advisory Board at the Department of Health and Human Services (HHS).

White House Demands Rewriting of CDC’s COVID-19 Guidelines for Schools

Vice President Mike Pence ordered the CDC to rewrite their school opening guidelines for reasons that appeared to be primarily political.

Trump Administration Takes Away Hospitalization Data From the CDC

The Administration mandated that hospitals bypass the CDC and send data on COVID-19 hospitalizations, to a private third party.

Trump Administration Endangered People Evacuating From Coronavirus-Infected Cruise Ship

State Department officials overrode science-based concerns of CDC officials and allowed 14 infected people to board an airplane with over 300 non-infected people

White House Hides Economic Analysis Showing COVID-19 Downturns

The White House will forego the publication of an economic analysis on budget projections in the summer of 2020.

NOAA Fisheries is Restricting the Use of the Words “COVID-19” and “Pandemic”

An official memo, issued by NOAA, stated that the agency’s “preferred approach” is making “no reference to anything COVID related” in public-facing documents.

Trump Administration Buries COVID-19 Information For Religious Communities

White House officials instructed the CDC to delete certain sections of a COVID-19 guidance measure for communities of faith

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Sorry I forgot to copy over my sources, but it's very easy to Google and find, just, all the reasons to not vote for trump. If you're feeling apathetic or like your vote doesn't matter, it does. If nothing else your vote will stick it to the egotistical, thin skinned, racist, misogynistic, hateful, lying, fascist ass-hat. If not for love of the country or hope for the future, get out and vote out of hate of who trump is and what he stands for. #VoteHimOut

[bittermarrow]

What would Michael, Jason, and Brahms be like with a demon s/o (I.e. horns, fangs, claws, wings, tail)?? Saw the one with an angel s/o and couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like with a demon.

A/n: Sure thing! I’ve been meaning to do something like this after all. These got so long what the fuck? They might be a little long for headcanons, but I’ll still refer to these as such.

Warnings: Some NSFW.

.   .   .

Michael Myers

He’s initially quite skeptical of your existence, perhaps some hallucination or something his mentality had altered to make you appear demonic.

Of course, he eventually finds out that you are indeed real, and are most certainly dangerous. You will be considered a major threat to him for a long time, he will have trouble trusting you, regardless of how hypocritical it sounds.

Religion is not at all a factor considered in his initial mistrust of you, Michael doesn’t process Christianity— or really care the way others might, so he’s not going to throw crosses at you and give you a Jesus speech.

He is threatened by you, which is why it will not sit well with him in the beginning.

Michael grows attached to you though, his intrigue drove him to stalk you, your lack of fear in any of its forms of him drew him in and boiled his blood at the same time.

Your shadow is an interesting silhouette. Pointed horns grew from each side of your head, a tapered, forked tail worked as an extra prehensile limb. Your wings reminded him of the bats he’d read in animal books as a kid, semi-transparent skin and veins in each flap of skin and the thin bones that lined the shape and reinforced its strength.

Even the way you spoke struck his curiosity, sometimes it sounded like you were talking with two different voices at the same time. Your two-toned voice dragged out through sharp-pointed teeth that he’d watched tear into the flesh of one of his victim’s neck, and rip the arteries from their throat in attempts to protect him.

You were much like a willing pet. You were his guard dog of sorts, following him around even after he had discovered you doing it. If any of his victims somehow got the upper hand or posed a big enough threat to his well-being, he could expect you to take over the situation.

You became less of a pet once Michael began to see you more like a romantic interest rather than a safety blanket, and it did not take long for his attraction to you to form. Whether it be purely sexual or Michael’s form of caring for you is completely up to how much mutual interest you reflect back onto him.

He certainly does enjoy your biological differences, your increased strength challenges him and he liked fighting for your submission almost as much as simply receiving it. Also, your fangs brought out a lot of his kinks related to receiving pain in the bedroom, his neck is particularly sensitive, so any bites in that area will elicit vocal responses.

Michael also likes how it isn’t easy to break you, so he can be rougher with you without worrying about harming you too badly.

When you slept together there was always one of your demonic limbs wrapped around him. Your wings sometimes laid over him or you allowed him to lay on them, despite the fact that normally they remained closed. Your tail was always wrapped around his leg, even if you were just sitting close to him, your tail was quick to latch onto one of his limbs.

Your fierce protectiveness, although unnecessary and sometimes unwanted, is admittedly something he secretly enjoys, gets off of even if he’s in one of his extremely rare submissive moods.

Jason Voorhees

Jason hasn’t been in touch with anything centered around religion for a very long time, and he will be the least likely to even know the proper term for you. He’s not going to think “demon from hell”, or “spawn of Satan” when he first encounters you.

So, does he throw holy water at you? No. Does he consider you a huge threat? Oh yeah, definitely.

Jason had never come in contact with someone he couldn’t kill, you were stronger than anyone he’d hunted and faster than anyone he’d chased. And… you weren’t afraid? You were laughing— as you were running! Did you like him chasing you? It reminded him of when the other kids would play tag at camp, he was always left out but he’d always wanted to try.

The way you’d slow down on purpose, not bother to use your wings, and called his attention to you whenever he lost track of you really sold the idea that you wanted to play with him; like it was a game. Jason embraced his inner child for the first time in a long time, and when you’d started coming to visit him in the forest even after finally outrunning him, he was smitten.

You come to play games, talk to him, and even help him track down teens that managed to evade his rage. Although he doesn’t like you risking your life for him, he understands that you are very much capable of holding your own. And it really touches him, because the only other person who’d ever protected him was his beloved mother.

Your demonic attributes didn’t really have a lasting impression on him after he got used to you and your strange appearance. Sharp tapered horns, dark, curled bat’s wings, forked tail and razor-like teeth and claws that scared others barely phased him. Especially after you told him that you were discriminated and loathed for the way you looked.

Jason knows firsthand what isn’t feels like to be loathed and teased for what you look like, because of this he has an alarming amount of empathy for you. He was at least human for a short time, you were never human, and it wasn’t your fault that you were born to be what your peers called a monster.

The only thing Jason thinks is even slightly monstrous about you is the way you kill, but he does that too, and you only do it to protect him. In his eyes you can do no wrong, he puts you on a level almost equal to that of his mother, who he religiously believes can do nothing even remotely bad.

You have some tendencies that do confuse him sometimes though. Whenever you’re not out doing your own rounds or hunting for food you are practically attached to either him or someplace high, like trees, beams, and windows. You like to sit in elevated places and curl up around things much like an actual bat would.

Oftentimes times you just latch onto his back and hang there as he walks you around the woods or goes on his patrols. Your tail is almost always coiled around one of his legs, arms, or waist when you are close enough proximity, so you’re rarely not touching in some sort of way.

Jason loves the attention and practically absorbs your affection so it’s never a problem.

Jason is very inexperienced with intimacy, and it takes a lot of trust-building, reassurance, and telling him that sex isn’t always bad as long as you love each other and you want it. But once you start Jason finds himself liking that you are tough and that he never has to worry about being too rough or hurting you. More than you want him too at least.

Jason’s also naturally submissive, and actually likes you to have dominance over him in the bedroom, so your strength will become very attractive to him. Your stamina rivals even his though, sometimes he’s the one that has to tap out! Jason’s a sweetheart though, and will always make sure you’re satisfied even if he can’t be inside of you to do it.

He’s also incredibly sweet and cherishes you close to his heart, so he strongly prefers slow and sweet lovemaking. So if you can sit still long enough, and are alright with easing up on the biting, clawing— no matter how much he might actually like it sometimes, he’d be overjoyed to show you that he loves you in his way. No matter if your a demon, an angel, or a purple frog, you’re you.

Brahms Heelshire

This pussy bitch is scared. You just showed up at the Heelshire estate one night, seeking shelter from the rain long after Brahms’s episode with Greta.

He sees you and flips, hiding in the walls and watching you with paranoid and ever observant eyes through mirrors, cracks in the drywall, and closets. You got the image of a demonic being exactly, and since Brahms was brought up in a very religious family, he is conditioned to mistrust you.

If not for religious reasons, simply because Greta left some holes after she left him, he’s angry at what happened, angry at Greta for abandoning him. But he is also so fragile, still harboring the emotional weakness of a young child, and that you can work with.

The weather doesn’t let up for several days, so you inevitably are forced to stay in the Heelshire’s quiet, ‘empty’ house a little while longer. Brahms found out that you had been injured upon arriving, and he’d watched you tend to painful looking wounds the first night you stayed. You must’ve been attacked.

The more he watches you, the less afraid he becomes, and the more he begins to enjoy your presence.

You aren’t loud, destructive, or viciously feral like the demons and children of Satan, he’s read about. You were rather docile compared to the many ravenous interpretations of hellspawn Brahms was taught about. You seem to be lonely, cautious of every creak he might accidentally cause in the floorboards or walls.

You always appear to be sad too, sometimes you walked by mirrors and stared at your reflection like something (or everything) about it distressed you. Brahms couldn’t understand why. You were very pretty. Aside from your non-human horns, long bat-like wings that scrunched up against your back, your thin, forked tail, and sharp teeth— you looked relatively human.

Before you had the chance to leave, Brahms introduced you to the doll. He left it out in the open where he knew you would find it, your reaction was unexpected and almost a deal sealer.

You didn’t show any fear towards it, only intrigue, as your clawed fingers gently traced the doll’s porcelain features. You looked at the list of rules clipped to a clipboard at its side, and even more surprisingly, you stayed. You cared for the doll to your best ability despite the oddness of the situation.

You assumed whoever was in this house with you was offering you a place to stay as long as you followed those rules, and that you didn’t question. No one had ever tried to house your kind, you are grateful for the opportunity. But as time goes on you begin to feel like you are not the only one in this house.

You aren’t stupid. With your heightened senses, you can hear every creak, footstep, and heavy breath. Someone has been watching you since day one and you silently hope that one day they will reveal themselves so you can thank them properly.

The moment Brahms finally crawls out of the wall you are probably trying to leave, perhaps feelings cooped up or wanting to visit a friend, and he doesn’t let you go. In spite of your shock and mild mortification that this human had been watching you, you managed to assure him that you would stay and care for him.

You turn out to be the not only the perfect caretaker but also someone he starts to develop romantic feelings for, the kind he hasn’t felt since Greta gave him a run for his money.

Brahms often comes to sleep with you if he has nightmares or simply wants to snuggle up with you and your inhuman warmth. Your body heat is much warmer than the average human, so you’re practically his own personal heating system, especially during the winter months.

Brahms wonders if the books he’s read about demons being foul, heartless creatures should be re-written.

[lifewithchronicpain-original]

Long post ahead, but I need to address this so I can move on.

Over ten years ago, I was really into atheism and debating theology on an atheist forum, and became popular as their first female member and eventually rose to moderator then administrator, setting up a lot of rules that they still have up posted in my username. I always find that funny.

I felt like I had met a great group of people with leftist politics and all that. I felt special because I was basically their token female until the forum gained more popularity. And then the owner added a kudos system to rate someone’s popularity and I was given many kudos for being able to argue against religion, mostly Christianity, so well and I even met up with the owner at Dragon*con one year.

Then a thread got into the topic of sexual objectification and this spiraled into an unpleasant discussion about rape culture. The same men I thought who appreciated what I had to say just didn’t listen anymore and I was viewed as being ridiculous. One was so offended he started putting typical MRA jokes in his signature. Also the guy I met decided he was now libertarian and whole heartedly believed regulation caused the 08’ crash. :/ I remember another guy on Facebook from my local atheist group agreeing with those men when I brought it up; and then said “oh come on, I’m an atheist, you know I’m not sexist!”

I was now facing the fact that this group of people I had enjoyed spending my time with online for about two years might praise me now, but when I would tread into territory that could make men face how they treat women, I was shut down and told a woman in a mini skirt is Just like a rich man with a visible wad of $100s in his back pocket. I was quickly understanding for the first time why there aren’t more women and POC in these “new atheist” groups. They thought their lack of religion immunized them because they blamed religion for racism and sexism. Conveniently ignoring they also believe religion was created by men and thus promoting their already established views of women and other races. Funny that.

At the same time (we had a few women on board but they were avoiding that conversation) a woman joined and spoke up. They ripped into her. I had the comfy cushion of my status, she had none. She was given all the negative kudos and when I talked to her privately I found out she was also a survivor.

I was facing so many arguments I knew were wrong but couldn’t fully articulate. That’s when I discovered what rape culture, as well as the Just world theory. That’s when I changed from becoming a feminist in label to a feminist in deeds and thoughts. I learned the responses to their arguments and then I learned I also don’t want to waste another minute on these men. I posted my goodbye explaining their responses have caused a lack of trust I can never get past because they refuse to even see how their so-called reason left the room when they started dealing with sexism.

The only man who defended me was the lone Christian who for some reason liked hanging out there. There was also a trans women there, she was very happy to agree with the men’s victim blaming and I never understood that. But it also taught me you can’t expect to know someone’s full politics just because you happen to agree or disagree on the issue of god, or really on anything.

I learned that belonging to a group of people on the surface doesn’t mean we’re all lock-step in ageeememt over every issue. I learned I can’t trust anyone who treats relationships and sex as something they deserve and not something you enter with mutual respect for boundaries. I’m not denying it hurts to be rejected and people can be rejected on prejudicial biases, but it’s still a situation that requires mutual consent and you can’t force that on people by calling them bigots. Shaming a woman into having sex with you because otherwise you’ll call her out, is essentially forced consent which is rape. I can’t say it plainer than that.

My consistent insistence that a woman’s boundaries are to be respected, that our sex lives are not political statements to be commented on, and that lesbians owe no one anything has ruffled a lot of feathers.’A lot of people don’t like that. I have seen this from MRA’s to variois online factions of bisexual and trans people (And to be very clear, not all, I don’t like painting a group with one brush) acting like lesbians not sleeping with them is an act of cruelty, a prejudice that must be corrected. In other words, “how dare you not let me get off this is a violation of my civil rights! Lesbians must be so privileged for dating other lesbians!” It’s really fucked up and everywhere on this site. And no, trying to dress it up in woke language like “you should really examine why you don’t like penises” isn’t better. Rather it betrays an obsession with getting penises into lesbians. Not all trans women have one, but that’s too pesky a detail when you’re obsessed with getting dick into a lesbian. And trust me as a lesbian, this is an obsession many people have.

I am seeing the same things that played out before playing out time and again in online spaces, where there’s little cost to being an asshole. People decided an issue is pivotal to their identity or whatever, and do everything they can to “other” people who don’t agree. They use their online social capital to try to shame people. They knowingly post call outs to attack decent people they just don’t agree with. If they can’t chase someone off the platform they’ll make it hell for that person if as much as they can. And they will resort to nasty sexist slurs because to these people nothing is worse than woman with a mind of her own. I’m no longer 25, I don’t seek the approval I used to, I can deal with online anxieties by not engaging. I know to block people and turn off anon. It hurts to be targeted for sure, but ten years later people trying to slander me online is more like water to a duck. But I’m not everyone and ten years ago this kind of online drama could be a suicide inducing event. But they don’t care.

I’m gonna let you in on a secret, the majority of political disagreements are not worth burning down the house and destroying every relationship over. Not only will you have no true friends, you will never challenge your beliefs, your beliefs will stagnate and you will never grow, never learn.

People might read this and assume that because I don’t think sex with a lesbian is a civil right that I must hate trans women. I don’t, that’s not who I am. I know what it’s like to question my gender, I suffer from mild disphoria. I can’t imagine what severe dysphoria is like and I don’t presume to assume what is right for everyone suffering from this. It is terrible, and no one deserves to be treated like shit for it. But that also doesn’t give some people (I emphasize, this is not every trans person’s doing) the right to attack women for talking about sexism, their vagina, pregnancy, or being a lesbian. I couldn’t give a rats ass if a lesbian and trans women get together, I have no right to judge or police that, but it’s okay to police lesbians? That’s fucked up, and let’s not pretend the same standard is applied to gay men, because it 100% is not.

Everyone, no matter the gender, is susceptible to sexism. Calling that out is not me saying I hate trans women, or I want to fight against trans advocacy or anything like that. I just want to talk about sexism and how it affects me as a female lesbian woman. No matter how hard you try, you can’t ID your way out of sexism, just like I, as a white person, cannot ID myself out of the racial bias I was taught from birth. These things are no different to me and has no bearing on me respecting pronouns and promoting issues of trans disability on this blog.

This one issue has painted me as a TERF, when my radical feminism (which I’ve never 100% agree with, one example is bathrooms, just let people pee! When people start monitoring bathrooms I get questioned because I’m GNC) has never been about misgendering and denying the painful realities of dysphoria. I believe and trust we can better understand transmisogyny when we better understand traditional misogyny. If one gender wasn’t so overwhelmingly oppressed I can’t imagine people would have such a knee jerk hateful reaction to trans people. I might think male socialization is a thing, but unlike other people, I don’t attack trans women for our disagreement on this one point. I’ll never make a call out post because I couldn’t make a trans women say what I wanted. I will never ever call anyone a slur either, while I’ve been called a bitch and cunt.

This blog is about disability. All I care about is promoting disability justice, information, and social support. I will always be open to discussing disability as it effects any minority group: POC, female, poor, trans, gay, etc... I’m more than happy to reblog posts regarding trans disability especially with regards to HRT or surgery can effect that. This blog will never be about attacking people and trying to tear them down. I might disagree with people but I won’t try smear someone’s reputation because of it. In recent years I have striven to disagree with people without resorting to insults and assumptions. I’m not perfect but I try.

I have talked before how there are zealous aspects to all groups. You won’t have me denying that radfems can be just as nasty. I condemn any radfem who has treated anyone the way I’m being treated right now. I personally don’t believe that because one trans women did something wrong that it’s okay to misgender all trans women. I am not like that. I’m not so bitter and hateful that I can’t separate one group of assholes from a minority group.

I’ve always been about being the better person, not for the people you hate but for yourself. Holding on to all this hate and negativity, attacking women for daring to state their mind, encouraging people to attack that person, that must be aweful. I can’t, and I won’t be like that. My own mental health couldn’t take it when I did participate in some of these behaviors on my early tumblr experience. Then I realized it was tearing me apart, and that the person on the other end is a human too. I don’t have to like them, but I can respect they have feelings and a world view that wasn’t built just to attack me.

Whether or not you agree with me on a lesbian’s right to bodily autonomy, does that really warrant a response meant to tear a disabled woman down? Are the only people entitled to their own opinions the ones that agree with you?

This matter truly is about sexism whether you believe it or not. I do not actively discuss trans issues on any of my blog. I was targeted for guilt by association (because I can’t follow people I don’t 100% agree with I guess) on main and when asked I said I got nothing against trans women I do have problems with rhetoric that treats sex with a lesbian as a civil right. I was then called out. That is exactly what happened and why I had to shut down questioning and take a break.

This post is to let you all know, I’m back, I’m okay, and this blog will continue with its mission to support disabled people. If you think a disabled women like me who only ever wants to help others, deserves this, then please unfollow. I don’t care how many people follow, I care that the people who do, want to follow me. If you’re a trans woman uncertain if you can bring an issue to me, of course you can. I’m not here to judge anyone, I’m here to give whatever disability advice and support that I can.

So yeah if you can’t understand that disagreements don’t warrant tearing down a person, especially someone who is disabled and has mentioned suicide attempts, then I can’t help you and the unfollow button is right there. If you do or don’t agree with me but think it was fucked up to get called out for, welcome. This blog will return to disability issues and this is the last I’ll be addressing this issue. I’m just going to delete and block people who think calling a disabled woman a cunt is top notch activism. You will not ruin what I’ve built here. You will not cower me. This bitch has been through too much to let anonymous trolls take me down.

Much love to all those who have supported me, it has meant a lot. 💕

[radudracula]

Radu’s Story

Note: This is the “Hollywood” version of the story including many popular myths about Radu cel Frumos. How true some of these myths are will be further explored in later posts on this blog.

Do you want to hear a story?

It’s about Dracula.

No, not that Dracula, the real one.

No, not Vlad “the Impaler” Dracula. The other one. Radu “the Beautiful” Dracula.

There’s two Draculas! you say.

Well, actually there were three, (not including all the illegitimate Draculas) but I’m here to tell you about the youngest; Radu III cel Frumos.

A quick google search will tell you lots about this obscure Romanian noble – he was the Sultan’s “homosexual obsession”, “the man who killed Dracula”, the man who actually inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a Muslim, a Christian, a weak-pushover and a strong military leader. In fact it will tell you so many things that you may ended up knowing nothing about him. In any case, let me try to give you an overview of the Hollywood highlights of the other Dracula’s life.

The 15th century Balkans

Radu was born sometime between 1437-1439, the third legitimate son of Vlad II Dracul. His father was Voivode (Prince) of Wallachia – barely. Despite being declared Voivode of Wallachia in 1431 Vlad Dracul hadn’t actually obtained the throne until 1436 because 15th century Balkan politics were a messTM.

Now, Vlad Dracul hadn’t been born with the name Dracul but had taken it after being indicted into the Order of the Dragon (Dracul=Dragon in Romanian). The Order of the Dragon was a Holy order of nobles founded to fight the enemies of Christendom - particularly the Ottoman Empire - and by taking the name Dracul Vlad proudly proclaimed himself as a member of this order. His sons, Radu and his two older brothers Vlad (later to be remembered as Vlad the Impaler) and Mircea, were consequently called Dracula meaning ‘Son of the Dragon’.

So, Radu’s early years were spent as a young Christian prince of a rather volatile country. However, Radu did not spend long in his Romanian homeland as by 1444 he, and his older brother Vlad, had been sent to the Ottoman court of Sultan Murad II as hostages.

The ruins of the Fortress of Eğrigöz in north-western Anatolia where Radu and Vlad spent their first few years as hostages before being relocated to the Ottoman capital at Edirne.

As hostages, the brothers were meant to ensure the loyalty of their father to the Ottoman Sultan and stop him from teaming up with Hungary in anti-Ottoman crusades under the threat that Sultan Murad would execute the boys. However, this did not stop Dracul from quickly betraying the Ottomans and assuming his sons dead (after all he still had his eldest son, Mircea, so Vlad and Radu weren’t that important).[1]

But luckily for Vlad and Radu, Murad had other reasons for keeping the boys alive. Through education and indoctrination he planned to raise the boys as good, loyal - and legitimate - future rulers of Wallachia.[2]

As a result the boys were well treated and educated by the finest tutors available, in logic, the Qu’ran, languages, horse riding, battle – all the necessary skills for great future rulers.

How Radu experienced these years in the Ottoman court is unclear. The general consensus is that whilst Vlad was just straight up not having a good time (often being whipped or beaten for being a bad student), Radu was more adaptive - but the consensus stops there. Depending on who you ask you might be told that he “was a compromiser, consumed by the pleasures of the palace” [3], a victim of Stockholm syndrome and “a weakling and a voluptuary, famous for his beauty” [4]. But others will say that he was an intelligent young man with both military and political promise.

However, a key part of his story that is often repeated, is that he was very good looking hence his nickname “cel Frumos” meaning “the beautiful” in Romanian. He attracted many admirers both male and female. Among them was Murad’s son, the future Sultan Mehmed the Conqueror. Although they had a rough start (their first kiss involved Radu stabbing Mehmed and then hiding up a tree) the two became very close and thanks to this relationship Radu gained much power at the court.[5]

Meanwhile, his relationship with his brother deteriorated and the two developed an intense hatred.[6]

At the end of 1447 the news reached the brothers that their father, Dracul, had been killed and their older brother, Mircea, had been buried alive by the Hungarians.[7] It was now time for Vlad, as the eldest, to take the Wallachian throne under the support of the Ottoman Sultan.

As Vlad left the palace of Edirne for Wallachia it would be more than a decade before he saw his younger brother again. And then it would be on the battlefield…

During this time Murad died and Mehmed took the Ottoman throne in 1451. Radu became a prominent figure in the Ottoman court, converted to Islam and played an important role in Mehmed’s conquest of Constantinople (maybe).[8]

However, his life at the Ottoman court ended in 1461 when Vlad (now Voivode of Wallachia) began actively rebelling against the Ottomans. Mehmed, who was busy trying to become the next Alexander the Great, did not have time for this. What he did have, was a perfect replacement for Vlad in the loyal Radu.

So, in Summer 1462 Radu and Mehmed crossed the Danube with 35,000 Ottoman soldiers against Vlad’s meagre 7-8,000.[9] Despite Vlad’s vicious scorched earth tactics and daring night attacks he stood no chance against the superior Ottoman forces and was forced to flee north. When Radu and Mehmed reached the Wallachian capital of Tărgovişte Vlad was long gone but had left a grisly gift that would earn him his nickname Ţepeş – the Impaler. Along the road to Tărgovişte he had planted a forest of impaled Ottoman soldiers that stretched for kilometres…[10]

A Saxon woodcut (c.1499) of Vlad enjoying a meal with some new garden ornaments. Despite the fact he definitely did impale people it’s worth remembering that a lot of the Saxon publications about him were essentially propaganda so take the image with a grain of salt. 

Despite this horror, Radu took his place on the throne as Voivode Radu III. He ruled Wallachia for eleven years and by 15th century Balkans standards it was almost peaceful.  Although he was supported by the Ottomans he managed to win the respect of the local Wallachian boyars (nobles) and maintain peace with Hungary (the other big regional power). However, his real trouble was with the third Romanian state – Moldavia - where Stephen the Great had come to the throne and was wanting to assert his dominance over the region. Stephen did not like Radu, mostly because of his pro-Turkish stance. In 1465 Stephen took control of the previously Wallachian port city of Chilia. There was a period of relative peace but then from 1470 onwards Radu and Stephen became engaged in a serious of border wars that ended with Stephen defeating Radu on November 18-20th 1473. Stephen marched into the Wallachia capital ready to place his own guy, Basarab Laoită, on the throne and Radu, like his brother before him (minus the forest of impaled people), was forced to flee the city leaving all his treasure, effects, clothing, wife and daughter behind.

Three weeks later Radu returned with Ottoman reinforcements and retook his throne (also his wife and daughter). Over the next year the throne continued to alternate between Basarab backed by Stepehn and Radu backed by the Ottomans until January 1475 when Radu was dethroned for the final time, presumably dying sometime soon after.[11]

The details are unknown but there are three main theories as to what caused his death and sudden absence from the historical record:

a)       He was executed by Stephen the Great who was sick of having to dethrone him.[12]

b)      He died of syphilis, “unloved and unmourned”[13]

c)       He became a vampire[14]

My bets are on c)

-

The story of Radu is a good one. However, it’s also built on a lot of assumptions and blatant falsities that have been spread by academic and popular writers alike. Finding “The Truth” of Radu’s life necessitates a return to primary sources. But, how much of person can we really construct from a smattering of 15th century writings? And how much will we never know?

For answers to these questions and more keep an eye on this page...

 References

[1] Davin Nicolle, Cross & Crescent in the Balkans: The Ottoman Conquest of Southeastern Europe. (Great Britain: Pen & Sword Military, 2010), 153.

[2] M. J. Trow, Vlad the Impaler: In Search of the Real Dracula. (United Kingdom: Sutton Publishing Ltd, 2003), 140.

[3] Romano, Will. ‘Vlad Dracula’s War on the Turks’. Military History; Herndon, October 2003.

[4] Franz Babinger, Mehmed the Conqueror and His Time (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1978), 207.

[5] Ibid.; Will Romano, “Vlad Dracula’s War on the Turks,” Military History, October 2003.; James Waterson, Dracula’s Wars: Vlad the Impaler and His Rivals. (Gloucestershire: The History Press, 2016) 111.; Radu R. Florescu and Raymond T. McNally. Dracula: Prince of Many Faces. (Boston, United States: Little, Brown and Company, 1989), 56.; Masson, Gemma Masson, “Dracula and the Ottomans,” Womenareboring, 15 March 2018. https://womenareboring.wordpress.com/2018/03/15/4286/.; Shibli Zaman, “How the Muslims killed Dracula.” Worldbulletin, 31 July 2013, https://www.worldbulletin.net/historical-events/how-the-muslims-killed-dracula-h114250.html.

[6] Dion Overtoun, “Radu Cel Frumos: The Queer Brother Nobody Cares Dracula Had,” Frightful/Filthy: The Writing of Dion Overtoun, 28 June 2017, https://dionovertoun.com/2017/06/28/radu-the-queer-brother-nobody-cares-dracula-had/.; Zaman, “How the Muslims killed Dracula.”; Florescu and McNally, Dracula: Prince of Many Faces, 59.

[7] Waterson, Dracula’s Wars, 111.; Florescu and McNally, Dracula: Prince of Many Faces, 56. ; Zaman, “How the Muslims killed Dracula.”; “Radu Cel Frumos,” Project Gutenberg, Acessed 30 September 2019, http://www.self.gutenberg.org/articles/Radu_cel_Frumos.

[8] Matei Cazacu, Dracula. (Boston: Brill, 2011), 51.

[9] Kent, Jasper. The Last Rite: (The Danilov Quintet 5). Random House, 2014.; Zaman, “How the Muslims killed Dracula.”; Masson, “Dracula and the Ottomans.”; Trow, Vlad the Impaler, 139.; “Radu Cel Frumos,” Wikipedia, Accessed 8 October 2019, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Radu_cel_Frumos&oldid=920222947. ; Philippe Lemaire, “Recherches sur le vampire,” Site de Philippe Lemaire, auteur de fantastique, Accessed 30 September 2019, https://sites.google.com/site/philip63lemaire/recherches-sur-le-vampire.; “Radu Cel Frumos.”  ; Elest Ali, “Is “Dracula Untold” An Islamophobic Movie?” The New Republic, 25 October 2014, https://newrepublic.com/article/119991/dracula-untold-islamophobic.; Beyaz Arif Akbas, “Kim Bu Güzel Radu?” Milliyet Blog, Accessed 9 October 2019, http://blog.milliyet.com.tr/kim-bu-guzel-radu-/Blog/?BlogNo=402166.

[10] For a detailed explanation of the numbers involved in this campaign see - Adrian Gheorghe, “Understanding the Ottoman Campaign in Wallachia in the Summer of 1462. Numbers, Limits, Manoeuvres and Meanings,” in Vlad Der Pfähler – Dracula Tyrann Oder Volkstribun?, ed. Thomas Bohn (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2017), 11.

[11] Ibid, 30.;

[12] Franz Babinger, Mehmed the Conqueror and His Time (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1978), 339.; Tasin Gemil, Romanians and Ottomans in the XIVth to the XVIth Centuries, (Bucharest: Editura Enciclopedicã, 2009), 203.; Jonathan Eagles, “The Reign, Culture and Legacy of Ştefan Cel Mare, Voivode of Moldova: A Case Study of Ethnosymbolism in the Romanian Societies,” (University College London, 2011), 13.; Liviu Pilat and Ovidiu Cristea, The Ottoman Threat and Crusading on the Eastern Border of Christendom During the 15th Century. (Boston, United States: Brill, 2017), 143 – 145.

[13] Kurt W. Treptow, Vlad III Dracula The Life and Times of the Historical Dracula, (Oxford: The Center for Romanian Studies, 2000), 159.

[14] Trow, Vlad the Impaler, 208.; Waterson Dracula’s Wars, 184.

[15] Lemaire, “Recherches sur le Vampire.”