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alienzil · 7 months ago

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DP x DC Prompt/notion # 5

Bruce finished logging the last details of tonight’s patrol and reluctantly pulled up contingency file PT-961. “Hnn,” he grunted to the empty cave, staring at the folder on screen but making no move to open it yet. His children were all out for the evening with various excuses: doing research on a case, homework, visiting a friend, etc. He knew they were really with Fenton for a movie night of course…the third such movie night in the last several months since they started sneaking over to visit the man.

He'd put this off long enough, making excuses to himself about assessing the situation before coming to any conclusions, it was past time he did something about it.

Cli-click. There. The file was open.

He’d made this contingency plan years ago, creating it only a days after Dick had moved into the manor and updating as needed as the family had grown but it hadn’t been touched for years.

PT-961 In The Event That More than 50% of the Children Form an Attachment to a New Parental Figure (see file HM-962 if less than 50%) 1. Initial Research: a. Attachment levels – see pages 1-36, graphs I-XLVII b. Assessment of New Parental Figure c. Background and character 2. Intentions – harmful a. If wanting money see contingency files (GD-01 to GD-207) b. If mind control – magic see contingency files (SMM-M-01 to SMM-M-508) c. If mind control – science see contingency files (NAM-ES-01 to NAM-ES-904) d. If criminal intentions see contingency files (CAP-C-201 to CAP-C-508) 3. Intentions – positive a. Option 1. Hire them - See Family reaction projections pages 37-75 - See likelihood of job acceptance pages 76-94 - See possible outcome projections pages 95-127 Note: Option 1 has the highest likelihood of job acceptance and a positive outcome in the event New Parental Figure has an annual income of less than $42,300 and/or is greater than or equal to age 57. b. Option 2. No interference/Let the Children decide what to do - See Children’s time projections pages 128-209, graphs XLVIII-LXX - See possible mission/patrol interference scenarios pages 210-293 - See possible outcomes pages 294-362 Note: Projections for Option 2 show a near 100% likelihood of interference with patrols/mission. Note: Interference resulting in increased potential for injury or delay in treatment of injuries estimated to be 68-94% more likely. c. Option 3. Custody arrangement - See potential arrangements pages 363-482, graphs LXXI-XC - See possible outcomes pages 363-401 Note: The majority of projections show Option 3 is unlikely to be successful. Both the children and New Parental Figure are predicted to be uncooperative in time and custody arrangements with no other controlling factors. d. Option 4. Engage in a relationship - See family reactions page 402-481 - See New Parental Figure reactions pages 482-568 - See possible outcomes pages 569-757 Note: For possible romantic or similar relationships see contingency files (DM-401 to DM-879) Note: In the event Option 1 is nonviable, Option 4 has the highest likelihood of a positive outcome. e. Option 5. Arrange for New Parental Figure to leave - See contingency files (ROI-G-301 to ROI-G-809) Note: High likelihood of one or more children discovering the arrangement for the removal of New Parental Figure leading to high likelihood of estrangement. Also likely to be ethically questionable.

Bruce double checked his notes on Daniel James Fenton. He was 2 years younger than Bruce, earned a high income as a freelance engineer and had multiple patents that gave him enough passive income from royalties that he could easily maintain his current lifestyle without working. There were no indications of any criminal history or ill intentions and thus far all of his interactions with the children appear to have been positive. More than positive given that every single one of his kids was now “secretly” (or secretly in so far as they were aware) spending time with him.

He steepled his hands in front of his face and focused on the data displayed on screen. The best option to take in this case was obvious.

*****

Ding-Dong! “I’m coming!” Danny yelled as he dropped the laundry basket on the couch and headed for the front door. “Why is there always a package delivery on laundry day?” he muttered to himself. Well, hopefully the delivery guy wouldn’t mind his no clean laundry ensemble. Surely, they’d seen worse than Danny’s ancient, too small NASA t-shirt and the bat themed pajama pants Sam bought for him when he moved to Gotham.

“Hi there, sorry I was doing laundry and…uhh…you’re not the delivery guy”. Danny stared at a sharply dressed smiling man holding a dozen roses on the other side of his door.

“No, I’m Bruce Wayne. I-“

“Oh, shit”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “You know.”

“Umm…” Danny gulped. He was not expecting to deal with Batman on laundry day! “Yes?” He straightened himself, squared his shoulders and looked Bruce Wayne AKA Batman, the father of the kids that his core had recently come to recognize as his own, in the eyes. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I know.”

“Hnnn…” Bruce’s voice dropped a few octaves. Not quite Batman’s signature growl but much lower than he had been speaking. “Well then, that simplifies things. These are for you. Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“…What?!”

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #fic prompt #so basically bruce has a contingencies in case the batkids found a new mom or dad #and the best option is to marry Danny #it's only logical #he has lists #and charts #they're color coded

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hawkinsbnbg · 6 months ago

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"Is it true that you and Harrington are friends now?"

Steve paused outside the drama class' door and lowered the hand that was about to push it open. He didn't expect to eavesdrop when he came back to retrieve his jacket, but he decided to make an exception because those people were clearly talking about him behind his back even when it was in the form of drilling Eddie about their sudden friendship.

And Eddie's friends were right to be suspicious about it. Because had it not been for the Upside Down, the two of them wouldn't have become close at all. Or maybe, they would eventually with their shared custody of the kids. But he was well aware that Eddie was too cool to be seen with a failure like Steve Harrington.

Without the shared traumas, they had nothing in common. And sometimes, he thought Eddie only saw him as an inconvenient cousin that he hated but had to tolerate for the sake of their family.

It hurt to think like that, but every time Eddie blushed and stammered in embarrassment when someone asked about him, Steve couldn't help but believe it was true.

So now, he wanted to know what Eddie's answer would be without him there. If Eddie had been genuine about being his friend this whole time or if Eddie would scoff and prove his worst fear right.

"Yeah, Eddie, what's the deal with Harrington? Has he been bothering you or something?"

Steve grimaced. Had he been such a douche in high school that everyone would always assume the worst of him even now?

"Nah, he's really sweet once you get to know him," Eddie chuckled, sounding fond and warm. "He's a good guy. And the world's best mom, apparently. Like I already knew our sheepies worship the ground he walks on, but I only understood why it's clearly a given when I finally met him. He's just... incredible, man."

Steve's cheeks burned at the transparent affection in Eddie's voice. He could see the way Eddie pulled a strand of hair to hide his blush behind it. God, he was a bad friend for doubting Eddie in the first place.

"Gross, you sound lovesick, dude."

"That's homophobic, man."

"You know what I mean. So it's true that you're friends with Harrington."

There was a pause and Steve felt his stomach roll with nerve. Despite having known where Eddie's loyalty lied, he still waited with bated breath.

"We're boyfriends, actually," Eddie said calmly.

As the others erupted in surprised noises, Steve blinked owlishly and walked away, forgetting about his jacket. He had so many questions right now, but first:

When did he and Eddie start dating?

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #steve wondered why no one seemed interested in him anymore #he didn't know eddie had been going around telling people they were dating this whole time #and would threaten anyone who dared to flirt with him #steve: and when did i agree to go out with you?#eddie: i asked you if you wanna be kidnapped by me and you said yes?#sionewrites

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radiance1 · 10 months ago

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Ghosts are dragons.

However.

Danny uses this to his advantage by making his human form look like a meta so that he would be protected by the Meta-human rights act (or wtv its called I can't remember). Which works splendidly actually. He just gave himself the tail, the horns, teeth, eyes and a few scales here and there and wouldn't cha know it works splendidly.

The GIW trying to call him a ghost? Nah, he's just a meta dude. Wes trying to pin him as Phantom? Does Phantom have horns and a tail? No? Yea he thought so.

Then Vlad takes a look at Danny and goes: "Oh shit that's actually a surprisingly good idea." And then just copies him without asking basically. Would people question this? Shhh, no they won't (hands you a slip of money), why would they question anything?

The bats would question it. Obviously. Because of course they would, why wouldn't they, sticking their noses into everything. Why are they investigating? Because they were invited to a Gala held by Vlad Masters and Danny had to attend, both of which they knew didn't have any meta features with a quick background check so they think something fishy is going on there.

Then the GIW raid the place like a bunch of idiots because they think Vlad and Danny are obviously ghosts (they're only half right because Halfa you know lawl) and they need to be taken into the government's custody. Except for the fact that they're doing this in a room full of rich people, with the Wayne Family in attendance, and people who do business with Vlad.

So.

You know.

Vlad is talking so calmly and rationally and acting like this is expected, which leads everyone present to believe this to be such a common occurrence that he can't even be surprised at this anymore. Which leads to even more suspicion.

Where is Danny through all of this? He's not doing much actually since he was outside playing with Cujo, since he only had to be there for a bit and then free to do whatever he wanted after that. Funnily enough, a few GIW agents are also trying to take him and Cujo into custody with none other than Damian Wayne at his side.

Damian was just concerned about Cujo and wanted to make sure nothing was going on there. Didn't really expect this.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Ghosts are dragons

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someone-will-remember-us · 1 month ago

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There is no collective noun for rapists but spend a week at the Pelicot trial and you wonder why. As the early morning queue of women who’ve come to support Gisèle Pelicot passes through security at the Palais de Justice, Avignon, you spy men with downturned faces scurrying across the lobby past the press. In court they sit on the left, clustered around a glass box containing more men, those in custody for the gravest crimes. Since there are 50 in total, the alleged rapists have been tried in batches and I’m just here for the final seven: Boris, Philippe, Nicolas, Nizair, Joseph, Christian, Charly.

Plus Dominique Pelicot himself, who invited them all into his marital bedroom, where he had his wife waiting, drugged and naked, and who joined in and filmed it all. Pelicot, 71, crumpled and fat now, but with a residual bulky power, sits sullenly alone with his guard in a separate glass box, protected from the other men who blame and detest him. Often after lunch he appears to doze off.

Such nondescript men. Grizzled, middle-aged (the mean is 47 years old), smart-casual in windcheaters or leather jackets and their best trainers, like minicab drivers waiting for fares. Ordinary men in many respects, not vagrants, junkies or career criminals. This week’s seven includes a fireman, an electrician and a journalist; several are fathers, two were keen weightlifters, one bred dogs. French trials helpfully begin with a personality profile formed from interviews with the men, their friends and colleagues. Poverty, domestic violence and mental breakdowns feature, but also that a man is “kind” or “gentle”, had a lovely childhood, adored his grandparents or is devoted to his mum.

Yet each one had sex with an unconscious woman, that is beyond doubt, thanks to Pelicot’s camera mounted on a tripod beside the bed, and by his own admission. “I am a rapist,” he has declared, “like the others in this room.”

From the Pelicot affair have come demands for reform to French rape law, for sexual violence to be treated more seriously, for an investigation into “chemical submission” — the coercive use of sedatives. But one question overshadows all others. How many men would have done the same? If Pelicot could recruit at least 70 willing participants (a number could not be identified) within a 25-mile radius of Mazan, the Provençal town where the couple retired, how many in the whole of France? As I walk through Avignon with Juliette Campion of radio station France Info, who bears the strain of reporting this case since September, she gestures to a bureau de tabac: “You think, ‘Would a guy in there have raped Gisèle? Or men in the boulangerie or those on the street?’ Women are looking at men differently: they’re asking, ‘Could you or you or you?’ ”

On the right of the court, behind her counsel of three serious, dark-haired young men, is Gisèle Pelicot with her female companion from victim support, leaning on the wall, as far from the men as the room allows, but facing her ex-husband. Her composure is remarkable. Although clearly tired and strained, she retains a quiet vivacity reflected in her clothes. Instead of shrinking away in black, she dresses each day as if meeting friends for drinks on a sunny terrace. A chic scarf, a faux fur bag, patent leather boots. Clothes that say, “I still have a life.” Every evening, when women line up to clap her out of court, she speaks to them warmly, neither reticent nor relishing the attention. Every day she walks through the cobbled streets past graffiti saying, “Gisèle, les femmes te remercient” (Gisèle, women thank you) to lunch at the same excellent brasserie, and people turn to gaze at her in awe.

The extraordinary woman who refused to be silenced

The humiliations of Gisèle Pelicot have a mythic quality. This is a woman who discovered the man she married aged 20, with whom she had three children and seven grandchildren, waited until she was deeply asleep before removing her pyjamas, dressing her in “sexy” underwear or writing on her buttocks, “I am a good submissive bitch,” then he let a stranger penetrate her inert body, filmed it, washed her intimately and replaced her pyjamas. This is a woman who thought she was going insane, had Alzheimer’s or a brain tumour, whose children thought she was dying, who stopped driving and going out alone, who slept all day and once woke puzzled why her hair was shorter. “But madame,” said her hairdresser, “you came in yesterday.” This is a woman who had mysterious gynaecological problems, including a swollen cervix (and still lives with four STDs), who thought her husband wonderful for accompanying her to medical tests, including an MRI.

This is a woman who, when her husband was arrested for “upskirting” in a Leclerc supermarket and police found the contents of his phone, discovered her whole 50-year marriage was a travesty, that he’d raped her in a service station car park, on Valentine’s Day and on her 66th birthday, and may have raped their daughter too. This is a woman who has listened to legal arguments about whether a man put his tongue inside or merely kissed her vagina, who heard another man say he’d only returned to rape her a second time because he couldn’t find anyone better, who sits in a courtroom while three giant TV screens show clips of her body being coldly humped by yet another “ordinary” guy.

Yet this is a woman who gathered up every scrap of her humiliation and with it constructed a mirror that she holds up defiantly to the court and to French society itself. “Shame must change sides,” she said, and in insisting the entire trial be conducted openly, that the worst men can do to women is witnessed by the whole world, she has done exactly that.

I ask many women I meet in Avignon how men in their lives regard the accused. They say they call them losers and freaks, that these are men on the margins, with no relation to themselves. But, along with the testimony I hear, the people I talk to believe this case raises many questions about French sexual mores. Whatever the decision later this month by five judges — there is no jury — Gisèle Pelicot will never be forgotten.

The court turns to Christian L, a fireman with a straggly castaway beard, who speaks from the glass box because after he was arrested, police found 4,000 child sex abuse and zoophilic images on his hard drive. We hear from his girlfriend, Sylvie, a small blonde in a grey hoodie, who says he’s a wonderful man, and is suspected of destroying evidence. Christian L recalls the victims he watched die in fires, the coffins of 11 colleagues he carried, the mental breakdowns that ensued. He was married but after his two daughters were born says he went off sex with his wife and turned to libertinisme. Strange, I think, that the French have coined this noble, philosophical concept, with its whiff of the barricades, to describe what we call swinging or dogging.

Like all the men, Christian met Pelicot through coco.fr — the murky, unmoderated site since closed down and now the focus of many major police investigations — on a forum called À son insu (without her knowledge). Christian L had already enjoyed “Sleeping Beauty” encounters with ten other couples. He spells out the rules: that you only dealt with the husband, sending him photos for approval, and during the sexual encounter he ran the show. Sometimes the wife woke up, other times not. How did he know, asked Gisèle’s lawyer, Stéphane Babonneau, that she consented?

“In a libertine encounter,” Christian L explained, “it is the husband’s responsibility to ensure consent.”

But how could you be sure?

“Are we expected to sign a contract?” Christian L spluttered.

“You could ask the woman,” Babonneau suggested.

How the case could change French law

Given the overwhelming video evidence, the defendants can only claim Pelicot deceived or drugged them, or they believed Gisèle was collaborating in a game. If this case were before a British court, rape would be decided by two tests: whether Gisèle had “capacity to consent” (tough to argue given Pelicot admits to drugging her) and whether the men had “reasonable belief” in her consent. Unlike most European countries, French rape law has no concept of consent. Rather, it is defined as penetration “by violence, constraint, threat or surprise”. (The prosecution case rests on a convoluted definition of surprise.)

But rather than demand consent be added to the law, French feminists are divided. Some agree with President Macron, who supports change; many others argue that consent would put the onus on the victim to prove her conduct was not an invitation. This seems an odd objection, especially as the whole purpose of the video evidence is to show no one could believe Gisèle capable of consent, given she was so lifeless one man asked Pelicot, “Is your wife dead?”

Alice Géraud is the author of Sambre, an investigation into how, due to the indifference and cruelty of police, a caretaker called Dino Scala in northern France managed to rape 54 women over a period of 30 years. “The Pelicot case with 50 defendants and one victim feels a strange inverse of Sambre.”

Géraud believes the Pelicot affair could provide the same impetus for change as a famous 1974 case of two Belgian tourists, Anne-Marie Tonglet and Aracelli Castellano, who, camping near Marseilles, were brutally raped by three local men. As was normal practice, the crime was downgraded from felony to misdemeanour on the basis the victims eventually stopped resisting. But the women, a lesbian couple, persisted and thanks to their feminist lawyer, Gisèle Halimi, it became the first rape case to be heard in the higher assizes court. Like Gisèle Pelicot, the women waived their anonymity. “We believe that it’s one thing for a man to rape,” said Halimi, “and another to know it’ll get around his village, his work, the papers.” Shame changed sides: the men were jailed and the French criminal code was rewritten defining rape as a serious offence.

For Géraud, the greatest current injustice is that whether a man has raped one women or 50, the maximum sentence is 20 years (here a serial rapist can be jailed for life). “This is law made by men,” she says, “with a grave lack of knowledge of rape culture.” She is scornful too about libertinisme as a universal excuse for male sexual exploitation. “Libertinisme was why Coco existed for so long,” she says. “It is the justification for prostitution, for the porn industry.”

Charly A is the youngest of all the defendants, just 22 when he first entered the Pelicot house. Small, bearded, now 30, we learn his childhood was chaotic, his father an alcoholic, his mother had many sexual partners; there are hints of abuse. “This is a family of secrets,” concludes the personality profiler. A psychiatrist adds he is immature, struggles to sustain relationships and instead consumes porn, “especially the Milf [Mother I’d like to f***] category with mature women”. In 2016, he made contact with Pelicot via Coco: “He said his wife would be lying there pretending to be asleep, he doesn’t tell me more.”

Over time Pelicot asks Charly if he knows anyone they could drug for sex and he proffers the only woman in his life — his own mother. Pelicot gives him pills (which Charly claims to have thrown away), shows him how to crush them, keeps pressing him to use them. “When can I come and we f*** your mother?” he asks in one video, but Charly keeps stalling, saying his brother is at home. Yet he returns to violate Gisèle, always with Pelicot, once with another man, a total of six times. “Did you feel like you were in a porn film?” asks Babonneau. Charly shakes his head.

Until this point, very late in the trial, the influence of internet pornography has barely been explored. The court only notes paedophiliac images, not “normal” usage. Yet Mathieu Lacambre, a psychiatrist who evaluates Charly A, remarks how porn sites not only push users to more extreme content but to enact porn fantasies in real life. “Until now Charly A was behind the screens,” he says. “Now [in Gisèle] he has an object served up on a platter a few miles from home. The sleeping princess Milf, voilà.”

A rented home in a quiet cul-de-sac

I drive out to Mazan, a lovely honey-stoned French village set in the vineyards below Mont Ventoux, where the Pelicots retired from Villiers-sur-Marne, a Paris commuter town where he was electrician and she was a manager at EDF. I imagine Gisèle browsing the little boutique, dropping into the beauty salon, sipping an aperitif outside the bistro. The home they rented for ten years is five minutes away in a quiet cul-de-sac of four houses behind tall cypress trees. It is lemon yellow with blue shutters, a pool, a very prominent alarm system, and new tenants. Given how many men knew her address, Gisèle fled four years ago for her own safety, with just a suitcase and her dog.

Today an immense cloud of migrating starlings swoops over the house like pixels in a photograph. This was where their grandchildren loved to visit in the summer, but also the centre of Dominique Pelicot’s porn operation. For what else was this grotesque man but a pornographic auteur?

We leave our car, just as Pelicot instructed the men, in the sports ground car park, by the bottle bank. I think of them texting their arrival, then creeping down the lane. (One man made his girlfriend wait in the car.) Pelicot would meet them at the door by the light of his phone, tell them to undress in the dark living room and warm their hands on a radiator. (They’d been instructed to be clean, not smell of cigarettes or wear cologne.) Then they were led into a bedroom with a TV, a chest of drawers, a bed with a naked Gisèle motionless on white sheets, and a mounted camera.

Whatever followed next was carefully orchestrated by Pelicot, a director urging on actors in stage whispers, since the objective was to do what they desired without waking Gisèle. Pelicot would tell them how and when to penetrate her, or hold his wife’s gaping mouth to facilitate oral sex. Given four Temesta (lorazepam), a powerful anti-anxiety drug he’d crushed into her wine or ice cream, his wife was like a patient on an operating table. Even so, if her arm gave an involuntary spasm,the men would scuttle from the room. A friend who has sat through many court videos says it was Pelicot ordering the humping men to go doucement — softly — that upset her, since she knew this was not out of tenderness for Gisèle.

All the while the camera rolled. Why did these men agree to have their crimes recorded? They say it was part of the deal, that Pelicot told them Gisèle was shy and liked to watch the sex later. But perhaps also because, in taking part, these men were promoted from porn consumers to creators. Filming was central to their fantasy. When Christian L finally climaxes he turns to give the camera a cheery thumbs-up.

For Pelicot, each film added to his oeuvre. Police discovered a carefully curated archive of 20,000 images and videos on hard drives and memory sticks showing 200 rapes. He gave each film a title like “Squirt on the ass”, “Cock in mouth” or “Jacques fingering”. This man, once caught by his daughter-in-law masturbating at his computer, was now a porn impresario.

The question at the centre of the case

Why did Pelicot do all this to a wife he professed to love, whom he called “a saint”? Was it to punish Gisèle for an affair early in their marriage (although he was serially unfaithful himself)? Or because when he’d asked her to join him in the libertinisme scene she’d refused — so he devised a way to make her. But Gisèle was not his first victim: Pelicot has admitted to the rape of an estate agent, using ether to drug her, in 1999, and will be tried for the rape/murder of another young estate agent, Sophie Narme, in 1991. The French police cold case bureau is investigating his possible links to many other unsolved crimes.

But as the “Without her knowledge” forum suggests, his was not a unique fantasy. The Pelicot case has illuminated the issue of “chemical submission”, not only drinks being spiked by strangers in bars, but drugs used to control partners within relationships. The French health service is noted for being blasé about prescribing heavy-duty medications, which is how Pelicot stockpiled his vast stash of Temesta.

Documentary-maker Linda Bendali has made a film for French TV about chemical submission, featuring seven cases, including a 13-year-old girl drugged by her father with medicine supposedly for her allergies, put in lingerie and raped over two years, and a 60-year-old woman drugged then raped at home by a man she was mentoring at work. “I’ve looked back at 30 years of press reports of rape,” says Bendali, “which includes dozens of women saying they woke up — mainly with men they know— unable to remember what happened.”

The Sleeping Beauty scenario, she says, is not merely a means for a man to get easy sexual access, but a way to enjoy absolute domination. “You are not even giving her the chance to consent,” says Bendali. “You can do anything you want to a drugged woman, for as long as you want. You can dress her how you want. These men want total power.” Pelicot is typical in filming his crimes: “Pictures are trophies. He was driven by a mix of desires for blackmail and voyeurism.”

Gisèle’s daughter, Caroline Darian, who was also drugged and photographed naked by her father, is heading a campaign on chemical submission, demanding police take samples of hair from rape victims, the only way sedation can be proved.

In court, I hear another psychiatrist tasked with assessing whether each of the final seven defendants has the profile of a sexual abuser. One by one, he exonerates the men, saying they are not dangerous or likely to reoffend, to the growing exasperation of Gisèle’s team. Then he reaches Charly A. “He doesn’t search [for victims] systematically,” says the psychiatrist. “He’s not a predator.” Finally, Babonneau explodes: “Six times with a sleeping woman and he’s not a sexual abuser?” The men do not identify as rapists because, like this psychiatrist, they define rape as frenzied sexual violence, not an opportunistic act performed to whispers in a private home. As one defendant put it, “It’s her husband, his house, his room, his bed, his wife.”

Women unite in the town of Mazan

Both in religious and political terms, Mazan is a conservative town: for 500 years it was part of a papal enclave and in the recent French election voted heavily for Marine Le Pen. Villagers regarded the Pelicot case with horror and sympathy which turned quickly to resentment when press named it l’affaire Mazan. Amid longstanding families who’ve known each other for generations, the Pelicots were outsiders who’d brought disgrace into a rural community. Tired of inquiries, the mayor, Louis Bonnet, 74, told the BBC, “It could have been far more serious. There were no kids involved. No women were killed.”

At the Lucky Horse Ranch outside Mazan, women victims of sexual violence receive equine therapy. I’m sceptical at first about how grooming and riding horses could help rape victims, but somehow these large, placid animals are calming and restorative. Here I meet Latika, 33, who at first was too timid to touch a Shetland pony, but now sits high on a saddle for our photograph.

Latika was separating from her husband, the father of her two children, but still sharing a house. He was violent, hitting her daughters, putting her in hospital with cuts and a broken rib. Two years after they’d last had sex, she woke to find him inside her. She believes the sweet tea he often gave her was laced with sedatives, but that night she hadn’t drunk it all. She realised he’d been drugging her for years — her mother recalls finding her deeply unconscious early in her relationship — and, worse, she was pregnant with a third child. She told the police, who addressed the domestic violence but ignored the rape. Her husband fled to Guadeloupe and she was left traumatised, fearful of leaving the house.

“I didn’t feel people really believed what had happened to me until Gisèle Pelicot spoke out,” says Latika, who has since made the police reopen her case. In October, as women across France holding white flowers protested in support of Gisèle, Latika headed the local march into Mazan and the next day Gisèle herself visited the ranch. “She said it is almost unbearable to return to this place where terrible things happened,” says Latika, “but she wanted to thank us. She told me, ‘I didn’t know the meaning of my life before this happened — but I do now.’ ”

Watching Gisèle take such sustenance from her supporters, you wonder how she will cope when the trial finally ends. She is writing a book and could, if she chose, become a global campaigner. “There is something particularly powerful,” says Linda Bendali, “about her being an older woman — she represents all our mothers. All generations identify with her.” But those close to Gisèle say that, at 72, she may just return to a quiet life of friends, grandchildren and her garden, in the secret location where she now lives.

But she is already an icon of courage for the women who come from across France and beyond just to watch the trial on a screen in an overspill room. Some want to witness history, a few enjoy the sensational evidence like tricoteuses at the guillotine, but many have risen at 5am, taking a day off work, to support a woman they deeply admire. Marion Spiteri and Amélie Planche, both 24 and law graduates, feel the case opened their eyes. “How can it be,” Spiteri says, “that so many men did this without her consent?” “It is terrifying,” Planche adds, “that a woman cannot even trust her own husband.” They tell me, astonishingly, that neither they nor their friends ever go to the toilet in a bar or club alone.

But then the nation of libertinisme lags behind in its attitude to violence against women. Until 2021, France did not even have an age of consent, effectively decriminalising even incestuous relations between children and adults, allowing several high-profile child abusers, including firemen who groomed a 13-year-old girl, to evade rape charges. Each time a prominent Frenchman is accused of rape — whether politician Dominique Strauss-Kahn or, currently, actor Gerard Dépardieu — famous French actresses leap to defend him. This is the nation that convicted child rapist Roman Polanski fled to from America, and is still fêted. The #MeToo movement was regarded by many as a wave of Anglosphere prudishness, contrary to the spirit of French seduction. So what can the Pelicot trial achieve?

I meet feminists from Les Amazones d’Avignon, the creators of graffiti across the city supporting Gisèle. (So as not to spoil the city walls, they write slogans on paper that can be removed.) Their latest reads “20 ans pour chacun” — 20 years for each one. I suggest a drink in a café nearby: “Not in there,” says one Amazone, “that’s where all the rapists go.” Blandine Deverlanges, 56, is part of the Coalition Féministe Loi Intégrale putting 130 proposals about sexual violence before the French parliament, including a ban on lawyers harassing victims in court. They are disgusted the defence asked Gisèle why she swam naked in her own swimming pool.

“This is a trial,” says Deverlanges, “of one extraordinary man, the monster Pelicot, and many ordinary men.” And as we talk I see a group of them emerge nervously from their favoured café and head back to the court. A collective noun for rapists? A violation, a banality, a shame.

(archive)

#radblr #radfem #radical feminism #gender critical #gisele pelicot #terfblr

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call-me-strega · 7 months ago

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Dc x Dp Prompt #23: The Custody Battle Turned Romance

A freshly resurrected Jason is found by Single Dad Danny raising a de-aged Dan and Dani who goes "surely one more kid can't hurt?" and takes him in. Danny helps him deal with his catatonia, trauma amnesia, and other side effects of being undead without the need for a Lazarus Pit.

He takes the kid to a therapist Jazz recommended and supports him thoughout his recovery. They did some bloodwork and found out pretty early on he was The Jason Todd-Wayne but then he decided not to reach out and let Jason decided what he wanted once he was recovered.

Danny, Ellie and Jordan love and treat him like family in a way he's never quite had before even with Bruce. They’re just so open and honest about their feelings and never make him feel out of place. So when Danny ask if he’d like to reconnect with the Waynes or stay with the them, Jason chooses to stay with them.

The world has moved on around them, and so has the Batfam. Jason knows about Tim (and talked through his feelings in therapy). He knows about the foundation Bruce created in his memory and the way he very publicly grieved. He witnessed the news over Nightwing nearly beating the Joker to death. He knows enough to decided it’s better to let the dead remain dead. Instead, he becomes Jason Nightingale, eldest adopted son of a mechanic in the Narrows. The family welcomes him with open arms officially accepting him as a brother and son.

Danny supports Jason to finish his high school and college education and Jason decides to be a doctor as an homage to Thomas Wayne and aspires open a free clinic like Leslie Thompkins. They get his death certificate revoked under circumstances of resurrection (which is a thing that actually exists in public documents due to the resurrections that tend to happen in the DC universe) and legally adopt him so that he can go back to school. However, Batman monitors public records to a degree and this gets flagged in the system bc it’s Jason’s death certificate.

Suspicious, but optimistic Bruce informs the rest of the family what he has found out and ask them to come as back up for when he goes to find Jason. He’s investigated and is sure that the family who helped rehabilitate Jason is clean and nice people but he wants his son back. They others also wanna see Jason but are worried if this is a good idea since Jason hasn’t reach out himself and there is paperwork for an adoption in the system. But Bruce decides to track them down anyway.

Bruce shows up as the Nightingale’s door and asks to see Jason. Danny, sympathetic, agrees on the condition Jason wants to see him. Jason is hesitant, but decided it would be good way for both of them to get closure and agrees. Bruce and Jason have a tearful reunion and a long heartfelt conversation at the end of which Bruce says “Let’s go home son”. To which Jason has to awkwardly break it to him, but he has no intention of leaving the Nightingale’s and returning to the Manor. He lets him know that he’s open to meeting the rest of the family at least once more but that Danny is his dad now and Ellie and Jordan are his little siblings.

Bruce is devastated.

He lets the rest of the family know and they all make their visits while Bruce wallows in despair. Normally he wouldn let it go, but he just can’t stand to lose Jason another time. So he decides to take Danny to court in the hopes of getting visitation rights if not split custody.

It’s one of the weirdest cases to hit the Gotham courts: two dads who were never together in any capacity but aren’t antagonistic of each other, are trying to come to a custody agreement over their adopted resurrected child in family court.

Over the course of the court case Bruce sees what a good dad Danny is and bonds with his two “bio” kids. Meanwhile Danny gets to meet Dick, Tim, and Cass (Bruce’s legal kids as of rn) and gets to talk to them about their experiences with Bruce and how much they want to form/reform relationships with Jason. They do form a healthy respect for each other, and accept each other’s places in Jason’s life.

Court case ends up working out in favor of Danny. It’s split custody but he gets custody of Jason majority of the time (as per Jason’s own wishes) and Bruce and the Wayne's still have partial custody and open contact with the Nightingales.

Over the years kids all start to see each other as siblings and both Bruce and Danny as their dads. By the time Damian shows up Bruce and Danny have been functionally co-parenting each others kids for years. They provide support to each other’s kids that the other parent may not be well equipped to, but helping each other improve.

When Damian does arrive his superiority complex is quickly curbed and Bruce puts him into counseling on Danny and Jason’s recommendation. It takes a while, but Damien slowly finally opens up and gets to act like a real kid. Ellie and Jordan, who are around the same age (maybe a bit younger?), love having him over to roughhouse and play princesses/knights/dragons (but with politics and consequences). Sometimes they’ll go out and trick people into thinking they’re triplets.

It’s actually Damien who first suggests parent-trapping Bruce and Danny so that they can be one big family. He obviously gets Dan and Ellie to agree first. Then the three of them bag Tim and Cass. The five of them approach Dick next. Jason is actually the hardest to convince but the manage to get his approval. Thus, these guys try to set up the Oblivious Danny and the Emotionally Constipated Bruce.

And for Flavor, just when it looks like they’re about to get together, one of their past love interests comes into the mix, re-entering their parents’ live just to stir the pot. (Which ex is up to your imagination: Sam, Talia, Val, Selina, Tucker, Wes, Minhkhoa, Harvey)

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somnoir · 25 days ago

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How to pull a Batman by J. Constantine

John Constantine wouldn't say he was quite fond of children. He's not fatherly by any means so he knows that he's not suitable for raising children. It's just that he somehow ends up with a young girl at his front door (how she found the house of mystery, he's not sure). The little girl looked normal but she felt off. Too drenched in death to be a run-of-the-mill child. Her red hair seemed to turn into flames at the tips, and her eyes were eerily teal and glowed. Everything about her seemed wrong.

"Hello." She murmured, "Clockwork told me to come find you."

And she was just blinking, looking utterly uncanny as John reluctantly welcomed her into the house. "Master of Time?" He hesitated, knowing that amongst the many powerful beings he'd met the ancient of time had been one of them. A mirthful entity who seemed amused by the chaos and order of the multiverse.

"He told me to give you this!" The girl fished out a glowing green paper from... y'know, he's not sure.

And in mocking calligraphy the words:

"You owe me :). p.s. there's more."

was directed at John like a fucking signal.

Great... Being indebted to the cosmic entity of time has made him a father.

He thought it'd happen one time. Just once. Little Jasmine was adept at the occult and got along well with ghosts, often playing peacemaker when one of them tried bothering Constantine. She was concerningly liminal for a twelve-year-old child, but she brushed it of for the fact that her siblings were either halfas or very liminal. Was he concerned, admittedly yes.

It wasn't until there was a pounding at the door again did he start praying to any god willing to listen. But no. The sentient house practically dragged him through the halls and led him to where Jazz was eagerly waiting, a grin on her face.

"My baby brothers are here!" She excitedly says, eyes practically sparkling as she grabs him by the hand.

"Slow down, darlin'. They won't bloody leave if we slow down." He sighed in exasperation, before pulling the door open. Two pairs of eyes stared into his very soul, making his breath hitch.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was Clockwork sending him?!

"Danny! Dan" Jazz squealed, dragging the two halfas into the house. One with green eyes and another with red.

"Clockie wasn't kidding when he said he's a sad guy in a trench coat." The one with green eyes muttered, still floating and staying close to Jazz and his twin.

"Clockwork slept with that?" The red-eyed one unabashedly judged. "Another fruitloop..." The boy snarled.

John Constantine could already predict the future at this point.

Daniel and Dante take to the house immediately, haunting it to their hearts content.

In the course of four years, the hellblazer drowns in the depths of fatherhood, making sure that no one could find out about his children. No. Not even Batman.

He'd be damned (even more) than let anyone involve the best parts of his life in contingency plans and whatnot.

His kids grow up to be a rowdy and peculiar bunch.

His eldest, Jazz, was turning out to be one hell of a magician. Especially in necromantic arts that he's tried not to touch many times.

The twins, Danny and Dante were little hellions that made him want to tear his hair out. Its later on when Clockwork comes to visit their children (because its joint custody now) that he's informed that one is the crown prince of the realms and to be king upon the expiration of his mortality, and the other was an alternate version of him and was dubbed the world destroyer.

His fourth child and second daughter had come in the form of Sam, who had popped up in the house and was decorating it with plants he from different dimensions. Also, she was apparently a green witch that now had the powers of the spirit known as undergrowth. The house was green.

His fifth child came in the form of a boy with a red hat and a laptop clutched against his chest. Tucker had seemed so harmless and sweet compared to his older siblings... until John found him performing ancient egyptian rituals and casually hacking into the Pentagon for fun.

His last (Thank god) daughter was a zoomie toddler. Little Elle had arrived three years after Jazz did. A five year old with such intense wanderlust that he was tempted to buy one of those harness leash thingies parents had their children wear. Also, like the twins in which she was the clone of, she was one hell of a child being directly connected to the speed force.

So in conclusion, John Constantine was the father of three children on the verge of becoming Ancients, a highly intelligent girl with a very deep connection to death, the successor of fucking Undergrowth, and a boy who could effortlessly hack into government systems whilst being a pharao-in-training.

Batman must never know.

In the far future, John Constantine battles it out with Bruce Wayne, who's children thought it was a good idea to start flirting with his hellions.

Constantine: TO HELL WITH YOU IF YOU THINK IM LETTING MY PERFECT JAZZY PANTS DATE YOUR FLIPPY SON!

Bruce: SHE'S GOOD FOR HIM!

Constantine: YEAH WILL IS HE GOOD FOR HER?!

And then it gets worse once John catches the Red Hood displaying some ghostly courting behaviour towards Dan. And he's just.

Constantine: Tell your children to back off.

Bruce: You think I haven't tried???

Then comes Danny and Tim with their unhinged behavior. Constantine isn't even mad about the fact that his son is dating one of the Bats. He's just concerned about the chaos with these two.

Bruce: okay, that one is not allowed. How do we get them to break up?

Constantine who's already witnessed Danny making plans to brutally murder Ra's for some spleen: Yeah, no. Good luck with that one.

By the time it's just Sam, Tucked, and Elle, he's praying it's not one of the Bats.

He really is.

Tucked is emmersed in his work but that didn't stop him from befriending Bart Allen and the current Kid Flash. Time travel is the one they usually discuss. (Dante and Constantine were very much on the same page when it came to keeping them just friends.)

And then Sam somehow ends up catching the attention of a daughter of Zeus. By this point, Constantine was preparing to fight god again and would have to ask his ex for a favor.

He's just so happy his precious princess Elle was being a sweet fifteen years old and wasn't daring crazy people.

(Damian was being rather suspicious...)

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tv--fan17 · 2 months ago

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I'm aiming for the legal protections of the prostitute but a crackdown on johns and pimps. I want prostitutes (and other 'sex workers' of course but I am focusing on prostitutes) to be able to seek aid, go to the police, and get other forms of help without fear of being arrested or fined. I want johns to be scared to even walk near a prostitute. I want pimps to face a minimum of 10 years in prison if not more. This isn t simply a matter of misunderstandingâ€”it s a deliberate attempt to invalidate. These comments reflect a resistance to accepting the reality of emotional suffering, especially when it disrupts the narrative of strength and stoicism. But what is it about pain, specifically when expressed by women, that makes it so uncomfortable to acknowledge? Men's discomfort with vulnerability is a reflection of societal expectations that equate masculinity with emotional stoicism. When women express pain, some men struggle to respond with empathy, instead opting for dismissive or mocking remarks. This response reveals not only a lack of emotional intelligence but also a cultural conditioning that teaches men to avoid their own feelings by minimizing the emotions of others. Marriage as a patriarchal institution historically binds women to men through legal and financial dependence. In divorce, property division and child custody often favor men, leaving women at a disadvantage. Feminists critique marriage for reinforcing gender inequality and trapping women in cycles of dependence. Gonna start rapping about how trans women are men to get yall hooked then Iâ€™ll move onto all the other aspects of radical feminism and actively say things about radical feminism in interviews and run a radical feminist consciousness raising org but when asked about my â€œtransphobicâ€ beliefs Iâ€™ll be like â€œlmao you bought it? Itâ€™s a character duhhh thatâ€™s Raddy McFem sheâ€™s a baddy raddy lmao. she crazy. Have you ever heard of Slim Shady?â€

Lets pring to The vegeta garden before peanut butter spreader finds out.

#tra homophobia #LGB without the T #Anti Trans #lesbian erasure #gc feminism #gender ideology #tehm #radfem safe #trans cult

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deadghosy · 10 months ago

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AND NOW….WHAT WE ALL HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR…. PENGUIN! READER IN COURT.

HAZBIN HOTEL X PENGUIN! READER pt.4

Prompt: after lute’s acting out and hell’s celebration. A court was ordered for the custody for you.

“We are here in court today to discuss the home and place that reader should be in” says sera as she eyes Lucifer and his daughter that’s beside him.

Charlie smiles at the thought of winning this time as she smiles at her father who seemed to be a nervous wreck. He is hair was messy but almost kept as he kept fidgeting with his hands.

“Okay let’s start,” she says as she pulls up some cards. “Please no definitions this time.” Sera says strictly. Charlie gulps as she pulls out another bunch of cards. “Okayyy..no defining..but I have kept record on how comfortable they are with the hotel and the residents” she says with a small smile as Lucifer glances at his daughter hoping she could change the seraphim’s mind.

“Do you have any proof of this suppose claim?” Sera says with a raised brow. “Why yes! I do and my dad also has some. Right dad?” Charlie says looking at Lucifer who jumped at the sudden spot light. “Uh- yeah, yeah. I have some proof and rebuttals.” Lucifer says sitting up correctly.

Sera and Emily look at each other as a ball rises into the room. The angels seem to look each other and watch the ball carefully. Charlie smiles ready to show them how you belong in hell with them, for family of course.

“Oh oh oh, I would love to watch this shit show.” Adam says pulling up popcorn out of nowhere as the ball in the court starts to play. Lute grabs two movie glasses to wear with him and herself.

*flashback*

You were sleeping peacefully in Lucifer’s bed as he made you another duck toy as you woke up to smell pancakes beside you. You grabbed the pancake and ate them with a cute smile and squeak/quack. Angel busted in the ring leader’s door to grab you up and take you shopping as you got dressed.

Charlie and vaggie were talking downstairs as Lucifer was after Angel trying to pack up reader’s small little bag just incase there is trouble, like a small phone, small juice box, a rubber duck that turns into a monster to protect the penguin. And while type of stuff. Of course Angel rolled his eyes and took it for you as you two exit the hotel with vaggie and Charlie saying bad. You looked visibly happy as Lucifer gave one more goodbye kiss to your forehead.

*end of flashback*

The court chatters seeing such wholesome moments like that in hell. Adam rolls his eyes as lute basically breaks a mug beside her in anger seeing the angels nod and smile.

“How do we not know that you forced them to basically like that shit show of your hotel? You bride them with something?” Adam says rolling his eyes “Probably threaten them like the bastards you are.” Lute says as she glares longer at the two Morningstars.

The angels whisper gossiping about this. Charlie looks nervous as Lucifer looked as if he got sent to a death sentence. But Charlie then stood up with a nice compute looking around. “Don’t you ever think about what they want?! They’re our friend, heck even our family at most. PLEASEE…we just want them to be here with people they feel comfortable and loved around.”

“BLAH BLAH BLAH!” Someone says, ruining the soft moment as the court looks at Adam and lute who are scowling at the demon princess. “Why keep spitting these bullshit out your mouth and just admit that heaven is their rightful place? I mean, HAHA- they love me and plus they love the food here even better.” Adam says with a snarky smirk and lute smiling evilly.

Charlie’s demon form was slightly slipping from anger at adam’s words before lucifer had put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Adam, that is no way to talk to my daughter” Lucifer says with a scowl at Adam. Adam just smirks as lute was beside the first man throwing her middle up at him. “Ah please, you’re gods most hated thing to ever exist. Why let an ANGEL, who is supposed to be here, go live with you?”

Charlie opened her mouth to speak, “it was a rhetorical question.” Lute says with blunt venom. Charlie closed her mouth embarrassed. The court whispered and gossiped with a few nods as they did agree you were one of them that accidentally got sent to hell instead of heaven itself.

Sera felt a heated stare from the devil himself, he kept his deranged look from the stress of this. The last time he had to be in court was when he got sent to his own kingdom.

“DONT you care Sera! They are just a person who can’t control who loves them! They love us…and maybe..you guys as well.” Charlie says as she hesitated on saying how you loved heaven as well. She stared around sera as well as sera closed her eyes not wanting to hear it. Emily glanced at the older seraphim uncomfortably.

Her first sentence made it feel like Deja vu in front of the whole court as Adam exclaimed, “HOLD ON HOW BITCH! You don’t get to sing in court ever! Plus.” He says smirking. “Of course they love us, we’re fucking heaven for crying out loud.” Sera sighs, “Adam, please no interrupting in court.” Adam scoffs sitting back down with lute who glares at Lucifer with full of hate. “Fuckin' bitch.” Adam grumbles under his breath.

Charlie growls under her breath to Adam as she pointed to Adam, “well, what do you have for claiming they even love heaven at all! What and where is your proof.” Adam smirks as lute flies, getting a presentation. “I’m glad you asked bitch, LUTE HIT IT!” “GREAT PLEASURE SIR!” Lute yells back smiling as she starts up the slideshow.

*flashback*

You were cuddled by Adam as he was hand feeding you some of your favorite chips flavor. You made a nice purr sound as you snuggled against Adam, adam’s tough facade faded as his eyes soften. “You like me right? You won’t leave me?” You nodded to Adam as you nuzzled your face in his pudgy body. Adam smiled and looked forward at the tv.

The next day was you and lute having a flying race. With your cute chubby penguin body, you couldn’t fly well. But lute just smiled and picked you up to her chest and starts to fly around heaven. You smiled as you quacked out how beautiful and exciting this felt to fly with someone you deem who you liked. You clearly liked the fresh and heaven air as lute put you to the ground to go get ice cream with you.

*end of flashback*

Adam smiles with a laugh as lute and fist bump at the presentation they made of you basically feeling cozy as heaven here. The angels awe and coo at adam’s part of the flashback as some clapped at the nice friendly encounter you had with lute in the second part.

The court whispers again as Emily and sera look at each other. Emily grabs onto sera’s hand as sera glances at Emily and her hand. And finally at the Morningstars who have a pleading smile as you are beside them playing with a train you. Sera lets out a deep breath and opened her mouth for the whole court to hear.

“The court has spoken. The rightful place the reader belongs in, is……”

CLIFF HANGERRRR💗

taglist: @caffieneaddictt18 @galaxywing-has-adhd @aria-tempest @chefysawesomeideas @zamadness @libraryraccoon @ilovelyneysm07 @speckle-meow-meow @timeageusveryquickly @skymac712 @loyx2 @nicoblob @badatpunz @listenerchan

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