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dahvangogh · 4 years

Text

and empty words are evil | Jason Todd

[masterlist]

[ prologue | one | two ]

CHAPTER ONE

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”

– Anais Nin

“How to be single and satisfied at the same time?” Daniel reads the headline out loud, his eyes skimming through the cover of It Girl with curiosity.

Grace hums out loud, thinking the question over while chewing her bottom lip.

“Masturbating, for sure,” Lisa says without missing a beat, Grace only seeing the top of her blonde head because of how burrowed on the laminated menu she was.

The raven-haired laughs loudly –she can’t help it–, but poor Daniel, red tinting his face, starts looking around in case anyone at the dinner has heard them and was giving them any dirty looks.

“Relax, Dan. No one cares.” Grace pats him on the shoulder.

Lisa seems to have forgotten her menu and is now staring fully at Dan, a wicked smile appears on her purple-painted lips, completely ready to bug him.

“Don’t… Leave him alone, Lisa.” Grace quickly chastises her, even kicking her under the table for emphasis, for Lisa can be the most annoying person ever when she wants to. “And Dan, no one is paying any attention to us. Relax.”

Dan is still looking around, his face finally back to its natural color.

“It seems… everyone is paying attention to the tv?”

Pauli’s Diner is crowded, every booth full and a long queue that reaches from the counter to the door. The usual. Yet everyone’s attention, even the four waitresses, seems to be on the tv. Grace also focuses on the big tv, which is placed high at the back of the diner wall, three booths away from theirs. It is on and showcasing a newswoman reporting about something, but without the sound and no headlines or subtitles below to indicate what she was talking about, Grace is left with more questions than answers.

“I think something happened.” Dan sounds between scared and resigned.

The three of them look at each other, then almost comically pull out their phones at the same time. Something always happens in Gotham –the city that never rested–, and it was a common occurrence to check the Gotham Gazette App every day. After all, any good Gothamite knows that to be well informed is the key to survival in such an insane and restless city.

“Fuck. I swear if that madman of Zsasz has escaped again, I will hunt him down and drag his ass to the Asylum myself,” Lisa grunts; her pale brows furrowed tightly. “Fucking load already, stupid App!”

Grace focuses on her screen, the app taking more time than usual to load.

“Mine too…” Dan’s answers in his usual hushed voice. Then, he starts chewing on his lip, worry all over his face.

A big headline pops on Grace’s screen –the App finally deciding on working–, and she sighs happily after reading it.

“Seems an aircraft has fallen to the Sprang River; 20 people are currently missing and the rescue team is doing everything in their power to get to them.” She literally reads out loud the last words, happy that no madman is out and about on the city. “Nothing about Zsasz, sorry Lisa.”

Her two friends exhale the air they had been holding.

“Seems your impromptu date with Zsasz will have to wait.” Grace kicks her friend’s leg again, but this time just to annoy her.

Lisa shows her the middle finger.

“No, but for real. After last time, I don’t think he is going anywhere.” The raven-haired reminds them. “He killed 5 people until Batman and young Robin stopped him.”

Grace sees Dan gulp.

“Yeah, after escaping. Again.” Lisa sounds mad, which is understandable after living in Gotham for five years, and seeing all the hurt Zsasz has caused many Gothamites. “And one of them was my neighbor!”

Dan sighs, remembering her. “Oh, that poor woman…”

“She was a mean bitch, though,” Lisa adds as if it is vital information.

Grace can’t help but to huff.

“Lisa!”

Suddenly, one of the waitresses appears at their booth. With a sheepish smile painted on her serene face, –probably because of how much they had had to wait– she asks them what they would like to order.

Lisa happily asks for a sandwich and a banana smoothie, –as if the last conversation has never happened– but quickly rectifies and changes for a big portion of the chocolate cake instead of the sandwich. The waitress, Marge by what the badge on her blouse, agrees with the blonde and sings praises about how good it is. Then, her attention goes to Dan, asking him sweetly what he would like to order.

The boy, who has never liked being the center of attention, turns bright red again. Shyly, he orders a cappuccino and one of their famous big chocolate cookies, all the while his eyes are zooming on the table instead of her.

When she turns to her, Grace feels as if she has been punched on the stomach.

The waitress aura, white and bright as any other, is twinkling and shaking from pure anxiety.

“What about you, sweetheart?” The old lady asks kindly, her face completely composed despite what her aura said of her.

The contrast between her aura and her facial expression is starting to freak Grace out. Nevertheless, she tries to focus on the present, on what she is feeling, on where she is and, more importantly, on what she wants to fucking eat. Which is really obvious if you know her, by the pointed looks of Lisa and Dan.

“I want a yogurt and banana smoothie, please.”

Marge hums.

“Be right back, then.”

Then, Lisa quickly starts rambling about what they should do on the weekend, something about the opening of a new club in town, but the raven-haired girl can’t pay enough attention to the get on the conversation. Marge’s soul is making it hard for her to concentrate; she even starts rubbing her hands together instinctively as if to distract herself.

She says fuck it and turns around.

The old waitress looks as composed as before, preparing their orders with the help of another girl while looking at the tv. But if Grace focuses hard enough, she can clearly depict Marge’s aura still shaking and twinkling, perhaps even more so than before. Despite training hard to control it, Grace still sometimes is unintentionally receptive to other people’s feelings –almost like an antenna would, she can perceive them and even go as far as toying with them.

This woman is anxious and worried, and Grace doesn’t even know how she isn’t shaking physically.

And Grace, being the sympathetic girl that she is, can’t help but take pity on the poor woman and break her own rules.

She extends her hand, scanning before that no one is paying her any attention, and then lowers it slowly.

Marge’s aura calms at the same time that her hand motion stops, and it no longer twinkles.

Though the lights in the room go crazy for a few seconds.

Grace has to thank whatever God exists, or even the Cosmos, that small tasks such as this one don’t make her hands or her whole self glow with the usual green-bluish energy.

She still remembers the hilarious comment that once a crewmember of the Serbian Mafia made when he saw her appear out of nowhere, floating in the sky, just minutes before she brought hell upon them. Her, attired in her tight black suit and black domino mask, surrounded by bright green-bluish energy floating in the black sky while defying gravity.

And instead of running away, hide or even shot at her, he placed his hands on his hips and said out loud impressed:

“What the fuck? She looks like Goku Super Saiyajin!”

Grace can’t hold now the giggle that escapes her lips.

“What the hell?” Lisa’s voice brings her back to the present, and to the diner.

The raven-haired girl turns around and looks at her friends, smiling as if nothing had just happened, while blinking innocently.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

[ – – – ]

The pencil runs all over her sketchpad, quietly humming along to Stevie Wonder’s Superstition while drawing the sun setting between the skyscrapers. It looks spectacular from her high-ceiling windows. Grace’s weird obsession –despite her psychologist telling time and time again to her that it isn’t exactly a bad thing– of drawing beautiful things, or anything she believes is beautiful to her own standards, has made her sit down and try to make it justice.

Despite having to get ready for a night out with Lisa.

“Just fifteen minutes more and you will get ready.” She sets an alarm, just as Dr. Carson had advised her to do, and keeps drawing happily.

The oranges, in light and deep tones, together with the goldens of the sun setting almost make her forget about any advice, psychologist and nightclub.

And so she keeps going, her sketch pencil running through the page.

She has always felt privileged for owning an apartment in Gotham Village, where only the rich dwelled and played, with amazing views and almost non-existent criminality –which is surprising to say the least in this damned city–. It is the place where she could find herself being happy or at least, try to be normal.

But she misses going out and doing her thing as she did back in Europe.

Grace sighs, chewing on her already-chewed sketch pencil and stops drawing, hugging her legs to her chest.

When she had moved to Gotham almost a year ago, she had wanted to set aside her “dangerous hobby” and live a normal life. Like Lisa or Dan did.

After what had happened to her six years ago, she had used her family’s connections and pulled some strings so she could go and study in a European country. Away from Central Park and New York. There in Berlin, Grace had trained with an Israeli private trainer, Isaac, in Krav Maga until achieving a black belt and her expert five patch. Initially, she had started with just wanting to know the basics, a bit for self-defense and that’s it. Until one day, on a Friday night while she was watching The News, she saw another rapist just get five to ten years in jail and a pat on his shoulder. It had made her so furious that all the windows on her apartment exploded. Moreover, it was in that exact moment, while floating in the middle of her room with her whole being surrounded by the weird bright green-bluish energy and feeling full of rage, that she knew she could try and make a difference, for those who had power were clearly not doing anything.

The next day, after paying the window installer for she had no windows after last night’s debacle, she had asked Isaac about what he would wear, hypothetically of course, if he went to a fucking battle. At first, her trainer had answered that his military uniform but then he had rambled on and on about how a suit of Kevlar thread paired with a good armor would be the best choice if he could afford it.

So Grace, after debating all day whether to do it or not, had called her father that same night and had asked him to find someone who could build it for her.

Matthew Henderson had asked many questions, but she had just told him that in due time she would tell him. Just not now.

He had refused and straight-up hang up.

Later that same night, wide awake and after seriously considering to just wing it and buy a superhero costume from a cosplay online shop, her father had miraculously called again and accepted.

She really was his spoiled little girl.

Grace had flown to New York, the city that she now loathed with a passion, and had her measures taken. The guy who created it made the suit so it fit her like a glove – the downside to that? she had to be careful with what she ate.– It was tight, full-body and with high heeled boots to make her seem taller –after all, she couldn’t go around looking like a gremlin while also fitting crime. A pair of matching black gloves and a domino mask were also made.

After that, before putting the suit, she had not only trained to be the best at Krav Maga but also had learned a few other things –fighting with knives and how to use a gun properly, yet she still preferred to this day using her powers and Krav Maga–. A year and a half later, she had made her debut on Berlin’s streets.

In those years, she had killed many rapists, abusers and pedophiles. Delivered a few petty thieves and robbers to the nearest police station like Santa Claus would do on Christmas Eve, even going as far as tying them up and sticking a note on their foreheads explaining what they had done wrong. She really had been a good samaritan. A few encounters here and there with the Serbian Mafia and the Triad too.

Moreover, she might have done some petty thievery here and there, just to add a bit of spice to her life, but mainly she had been a good girl.

And fuck, she misses doing those things.

It was fun.

A bit dangerous, yes, but fun.

When you have powers beyond your imagination and are able to do some good, why would you step back and live a normal boring life?, she tries to reason with herself every night.

Yet back then in one of her many Skype sessions with Lisa, her childhood best friend, she had realized how empty and alone she had been feeling.

She had superpowers, at 23 she had her damn degree and had been studying to further her education even more, had also a lovely apartment, and yet she felt more lonely than ever.

And loneliness is a dangerous thing.

So, when she had told her good old friend, while omitting a certain hobby she had, of how she was feeling, the blonde had just replied with:

“Come to Gotham! We could live together and the city is fun. Trust me, you will never get bored here.”

Grace chuckles when remembering that. In the next twenty-four hours, she had packed her things, had said goodbye to her colleagues from University, and then hopped on a plane.

She has to give it to Lisa, Gotham city is everything but boring.

Gotham honors its name with its gloomy atmosphere, high buildings and horrible weather. The city is probably Tim Burton’s wet dream. You can find gargoyles in many of the buildings façades, many nights the city is covered in a thick fog, it has an Asylum for the worst of the worst with a high rate of escapees, an absurdly high rate in criminality and many bat-related vigilantes coming out at night to play.

Oh, and the many deranged individuals that play around Gotham like it is a child's’ dream playground.

Lisa had filled her in during those six years on her weekly Skype sessions about those individuals and so she knew most of them before she had placed a foot on the city. Gotham City has the Joker, currently-for-who-knows-how-long-because-he-always-escapes locked in Arkham Asylum, a psychopathic clown who had a weird obsession and ongoing feud with Batman; Two-Face, a half-burned crime lord obsessed with duality and the number two; the Penguin, another crime lord who looked like his namesakes and wore a monocle and umbrella; Poison Ivy, a stunning woman (Lisa said so, her gayness clearly showing here) who was an eco-terrorist and could control nature; and the list could go on and on for ages to no end.

So, her current life in Gotham is never dull or boring. She is working on a renowned and bohemian art gallery in the city, has an amazing apartment –she had tried living with Lisa but they had almost ended fistfighting with each other over a jar of marmalade–, can meet her best friends every day if she wanted, and is continuing her studies at the local University.

But she would be lying if she said she doesn’t miss going out and doing her thing.

Even drawing and painting, the thing that had always distracted her from suiting up and going out, was starting to not divert her attention as it normally would.

Her alarm starts going off.

“I really don’t want to go out.” she sighs loudly, as if someone would pat her on the shoulder and tell her not to go. “I hate partying and crowded places.”

Grace chews her already-very-chewed sketch pencil while walking all the way to her wardrobe.

She has to get ready or Lisa will probably scream her ear off for making her wait.

Though she is always late.

[ – – – ]

Grace, setting aside her ex-extracurricular activities, has always hated going out and now she remembers clearly why she does.

The night would always begin as good as it could possibly be. Lisa and her looking bomb would march to a nightclub, then the club would be buzzing with activity and music, they would have a few drinks and perhaps even dance a bit if the music was any good.

Then Lisa would start flirting with any of the cute waitresses and end up, don’t ask her how, with their tongue almost reaching her throat.

Lisa visibly looked like a terrible kisser, she always reminded Grace of a lifeguard doing mouth-to-mouth, and so she never understood why would the women always end up going God-knows-where to probably fuck.

And so then she would end up all alone, surrounded by sweaty bodies while going deaf by the loud music, and nursing a drink.

Tonight is no different from the usual, but she is tired. Her head hurts from overthinking too much all day long and the high heels are killing her.

Grace decides it is time to call it a day and head back home.

She quickly sends a message to Lisa, who is probably very busy with the cute blonde-haired waitress, and stands up from her barstool.

Hey girl, hope you are having fun with the redhead girl wherever you are.

As you left me alone, as usual (don’t fret, i’m used to it lmao) I have decided to stop being a pathetic human being and go home.

Call me tomorrow, but don’t even think of giving me any details. I don’t care about your sexual life.

Bye, bitch. xx

PD: text me when you GO home and when you GET home, it isn’t safe out there.

The raven-haired sighs.

She has to hit the bathroom before calling her uber though.

Too many drinks.

[ – – – ]

♡ Here, in this fancy shithole, Lucy Ross lost her virginity ♡

Grace sniggers, the situation completely reminding her of some of the type of things she had seen written back then on her high school’s cubicles’ walls.

She sighs happily while finally peeing.

Suddenly, the screams of a high pitched voice and the sound of glass shattering continually almost makes her fall off the toilet.

“Fuck! Fuck!”

She grabs some toilet paper and when she is finished cleaning herself, she pulls her panties up as quickly as possible. Grace holds her breath. It is one person, a female by the sound of the colorful series of profanities she is screaming, and Grace doesn’t need to check her aura to know how angry she is.

Though just in case, she takes a peek.

She focuses on her own aura, then changes her focus towards the other one in the bathroom, even going as far as closing her eyes to discern it much better –without stepping out and risking getting hurt.

It is shining as bright as the sun, but trembling and roaring with despair and sadness. The fact that the poor female isn’t angry surprises her.

Grace takes a deep breath, preparing herself for whatever she is going to face after stepping out of the enclosed and safe space where she is.

When she opens the door, almost scared of what she might see after reading the aura, the sight of a blonde woman headbutting the bathroom’s big mirror isn’t at all what she had expected.

The girl doesn’t even pay her any attention, clearly busy trying to crack her skull open, and so she keeps doing it, even adding some punches to the mix.

Grace can’t let her hurt herself this way.

“Hey, hey, hey!” She has to stop her before she kills herself, or gives herself a concussion if she is lucky enough. “Stop! Stop!”

Grace grabs the blonde by the waist, as if trying to separate her from the mirror, and pulls her against herself.

Next thing she knows, the blonde answers her with a chokehold and then sends her flying over her shoulder without breaking a sweat.

Her body collapses against the same toilet she had been peeing seconds ago, tearing the door from its fringes in the process. However, because her pain tolerance is higher than normal, Grace just grunts and answers right back.

The raven-haired extends her hand, a bright green-bluish glowing around it, and makes a motion towards the sinks. Now the blonde girl is the one being sent flying but this time towards the mirror she had been shattering just before and the sinks.

Grace stands up, her back killing her even more than usual, and approaches the blonde sitting with her back against the shattered mirror.

Weirdly enough, the girl instead of being knocked out is looking at her as if she is Jesus Incarnated. There is wonder all over her face.

“You are so paying for the damages.” the raven-haired quickly points out but then stops herself.

She can’t help but examine her for serious injuries. After all, she had been head-butting the mirror three seconds ago and then sent flying to it –on self-defense though–. But despite all the blood that is running down her forehead, she seems more than fine. Happy even, just gazing at her.

“What the hell?” she can’t help but voice her thoughts out loud.

The raven-haired almost falls backwards when the girl —who is clearly not right in the head— jumps to hug her tightly, mumbling “yes” nonstop while jumping up and down like an excited child.

The blonde girl pulls back, black eyeshadow and glitter smeared around her big blue eyes, and her black-painted lips start smiling almost manically.

“You! You!”

Grace blinks several times, completely lost for words. Then she sighs, trying to get back to the present time.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asks her, completely serious.

“No, I’m Harley Quinn and you...” the blonde points at her, smiling cheekily. “You are my new best friend.”

The raven-haired girl can still hear Lisa, in one of their many Skype sessions, telling her snippets of information here and there about Harley Quinn.

“She is definitely insane. For a long time, she was the partner in crime of Joker and dated that nutter. Girl… the things she has done are something else. Anyways, then she left him and joined a girl band… No, kidding. But Catwoman, Poison Ivy and her did start hanging out and creating some mayhem.”

Again, Grace doesn’t know what to say.

“Let’s go have a drink!”Harley links one of her pale arms with hers, then starts dragging her out of the bathroom.

[ – – – ]

They both sit on a VIP booth with an exceptional view of the dance floor and enough privacy to plot the murder of the current President. The loud music is now faint and low. At the glass low table, there is a big metal ice bucket with two expensive-looking champagne bottles and two glass flutes nearby.

Harley is sitting on the other side of the table, her maniacal smile still on and with her legs crossed, while Grace sits on the other side in the U velvety couch.

She scans her, now fully seeing her for who she is.

Her hair is up in a messy bun, which is dyed in blue and pink, lipstick smeared from probably drinking too much and her clothes are as eccentric-looking as the wearer is. She is wearing what seems like a dog collar, a very sparkling sequin red crop top matching with a penguin sequin dark jacket, striped high-waisted dark pants, and red neon high-heeled boots.

“Interesting choice of clothes.” she can’t help but say, then nods to her neck. “Nice collar, too.”

Harley smiles, almost childlike.

“Bud and Lou hate wearing it, so I decided to put their dog tags on one and wear it to honor them. Cool, right?”

Grace raises an eyebrow.

“Bud and Lou are…?

The blonde laughs loudly, a hand going to her flat stomach.

“My hyenas, silly!”

Then gets serious, so suddenly that Grace almost jumps from such a radical change of demeanor, and picks up one of the champagne bottle on the ice bucket.

“Sounds cool.”

It is all she can say.

But Harley doesn’t pay her any attention, furiously shaking the bottle up and down until it pops. She laughs fascinated by it, then pours some on both flutes and gives her one.

“Anyways!” she cries out loudly, then sips a bit of the champagne while staring at her, doe-eyed. “I kinda need your help.”

Grace takes a sip too.

“My help?” The raven-haired gets comfortable on the couch, a bit curious about the whole thing. After all, it isn’t every day you have a conversation with the infamous Harley Quinn. “You have just met me, Quinn.”

Harley opens her mouth – almost fish-like–, but Grace points a finger, interrupting her.

“Also, you are paying for the damn damages of the bathroom!”

The blonde enthusiastically nods, even going as far as to salute her military-style, all while smiling cutely.

Grace can’t help but smile back.

Harley Quinn is a very cute girl.

“So, will ya help me?”

She blinks a few times.

“With what?”

“Well, you see… it’s a long story.” Harley says, dragging the long while saying it. Then, she takes another loud sip of her flute. “When Mista J an’ I broke up for the hundred’ time, I decided it was time to emancipate myself! I started hanging out more with my besties, adopted many cute pets, hooked up with hot-billionaire Bruce Wayne once an’ even changed ma’ hair.”

Grace raises a thick brow, surprise all over her face.

“You hooked up with Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne?”

Harley shakes her hands nonchalantly.

“Just kissed an’ groped his ass. Very tight and firm!”

Grace laughs at that and Harley joins her.

“Anyways, anyways. My friend Selina had just recently gotten a heart surgery an’ Red an’ I were helping her out on some things, then decided to live together. We had so much fun together! So, so, so much! We ran Gotham, the boys couldn’t keep up! And… Pammy an’ I… we fell in love.”

The blonde sighed happily, blowing raspberries into her glass flute.

“Pammy is Poison Ivy, right?”

Harley nods with a happy smile, but her face quickly contorts in one full of hatred and disgust.

“But Batnight ruined everything!”

The dark-haired girl scratches her temple, trying to remember the names of all the vigilantes of Gotham City, but she can’t remember anyone called Batnight.

“I don’t… I don’t recall any Batnight?” Grace chews her bottom lip, completely lost. “Is he new in town or…?

Harley shakes her head effusively, a clear no, while moving closer so her butt is now placed on the verge of the couch.

“He has sticks!” the blonde points out as if to help her distinguish who the vigilante is.

Grace takes that into consideration.

“Batnight… Batnight… Bat… Night… Night?.” Grace mumbles out loud while Harley nods along to what she is saying. “Nightwing!”

“That’s what I said!”

Grace opens her mouth to correct her, then closes it. She thought Nightwing now patrolled on Blüdhaven instead of Gotham City. Then, she opens her mouth again to ask about it but decides on not doing, Harley’s tale is already making her head hurt a bit. There is no need to enlarge the story even more.

“Red was helping her plants, ya’ know. Doing some good for nature, an’ the Batnight took her down!” Harley places her flute on the table with ferocity, making it shatter. Nevertheless, she is still looking at her with shiny eyes. “Now, Red is at GCPD Lockup, an’ in a week will be taken to the Asylum! Unjustly!”

The blonde starts to sob desperately, putting her hands to her face so it is hidden from her, and Grace sighs silently. While she stands up and approaches her, she checks her aura.

It is shinning and twinkling furiously, Grace can feel the sadness and sorrow the woman is feeling.

She is not lying.

Grace sits beside her and pats her back slowly.

With a kind smile, she asks her: “And because of what I did in the bathroom, you want me to help you?”

Grace is really an empathic girl, she can’t help it.

Harley drops her hands to her lap and looks at her, her eyeshadow and glittery mascara even more messed up than before. Then, almost shyly, nods.

“I… I have…. “ the woman hiccups while her pale fist starts rubbing her left eye. “I have a plan. It is good! But I need me some explosives to cause a distraction, so I can bail out my Pammy. Normally I would do it myself, I was going to… ‘til I saw ya’ earlier in the bathroom!”

The raven-haired girl laughs softly, then cheekily pinches Harley’s right cheek.

“Alright. Girl, I do have superpowers.” Harley nods along to that. “And I can make things go Boom, but where the heck do I get explosives, huh?”

The blonde grabs Grace’s hands with her bleached ones, turns on the coach to sit cross-legged on it and squeezes her hands tightly. She is smiling a bit more now which makes Grace a bit happy.

She likes seeing people smile.

“Blubberpot probably has some, but we ain’t good friends, ya’ know? So he won’t give it to me.”

“Blubber… pot?”

Harley nods.

“Penguin! Small with a pointy nose? Like a toucan?” she makes a gesture of a nose going large until touching her lap with her hand.

Grace realizes she means Cobblepot, Oswald Cobblepot; and nods.

“But I earlier heard some birds talking about Black Mask, it seems he had a new shipment of LX-14, CL-20 an’ TNT to one of his warehouses here in Gotham. ” Harley whispers conspiratorially, puckering her mouth like a duck, though they are alone in the VIP area.

The dark-haired hums, running Harley’s plan through her mind.

“And you want me to smuggle them up, right?”

Harley nods, then subsequently adds: “Selina is busy with don’t-fucking-know-what and I would ask Zatanna but I heard she was busy! So, please?”

Grace sighs.

“You could go there, make the explosives disappear an’ make them appear in my house!”

“Girl, that’s not how my powers work. To open a portal and then move them to your house, I would need to first have set a foot on the place. I can’t just teleport myself to somewhere I haven’t been to before.” Grace takes her hands off Harley’s hold and crosses her arms while explaining this to the blonde girl. “Also, do you even know which warehouse it is? Last I heard from Black Mask, he has many.”

Harley jumps from her seat and starts searching through her pants pockets, nodding to what Grace said while taking out whatever she finds inside and placing it on the small table. A lipstick, some keys with a key-chain of a circus hammer, a small pocket-knife, another pocket-knife but with a blue handle, some sort of ring –which curiously looks like the pin of a hand grenade, but Grace will turn a blind eye on that –, and finally a crumpled piece of paper.

The blonde gives it to her, smiling happily.

“I wrote it down, ‘cause I’m a smart girl. I got a Ph.D., ya’ know?”

Grace reads the direction written in messy handwriting and chuckles at the smiley face doodled underneath it.

“I will help you out on one condition.” She points a finger to the blonde’s face. “No killing any policemen. Got it?”

Harley nods enthusiastically.

“Then I will help you.”

The blonde lets a loud scream and throws herself to Grace’s arms, ecstatically jumping up and down as she did an hour ago on the nightclub’s bathroom. She is thanking her again and again, tears running down her face and falling to Grace’s naked arms. The dark-haired girl pats her in the back, chuckling lightly, and then hugs her back.

A few seconds later, but still as happy and ecstatic as before, Harley pulls back and places each of her hands on Grace’s cheeks.

“Let’s go have a sleepover at mines!”

#jason todd fanfiction #Jason Todd x reader #jason todd x you #Jason Todd x oc #jason todd x y/n #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #aewae ff #my wrtiting

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

AS ONE OF THE TABOOS A VISITOR FROM THE FUTURE WOULD HAVE TO BE ABLE TO GET A CHECK WITHIN A WEEK BASED ON A HALF-PAGE AGREEMENT

You would not believe the amount of stock to give him. When you hit something that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way the classic airline pilot manner is said to derive from Chuck Yeager. But in fact it was the basis of Amsterdam's prosperity 400 years ago. Tip: for extra impressiveness, use Greek variables. Which is to say that it's heretical. The right tools can help us avoid this danger. And as you go down the food chain the VCs get rapidly dumber.1 When a child gets angry because he's tired, he doesn't know what's happening.

A silicon valley has to be powerful enough to enforce a taboo. Related fields are where you go looking for trouble. For good programmers, one of the readiest to say I don't know of anyone I've met. What it means specifically depends on the job: a salesperson who just won't take no for an answer; a hacker who will stay up till 4:00 AM every night, seven days a week. Politicians are caught between a rock and a hard place here, however: make the capital gains rate low and be accused of creating tax breaks for the rich, or make it high and starve growing companies of investment capital. The influence of fashion is not nearly so great in hacking as it is in painting. It's like light from a distant star. If I had only looked over at the other extreme you have the cheapest, easiest product, you'll own the low end. Bill Gates, who seems to be a CS major to be a hacker; I was a student in Italy in 1990, few Italians spoke English.

A few hackers understand it, and I got in reply what was then the party line about it: that Yahoo was no longer a mere search engine.2 This is their way of weighing you. Forty-two years later you'll be making $4. Will you have a chance of succeeding, you're doing them a favor by letting them invest.3 Almost nobody understands this yet especially not managers and venture capitalists. You're better off starting with a blank slate in the form of a small town. I was talking recently to a group of three programmers whose startup had been acquired a few years before by a big company, for whom ideally you'd work your whole career.

Now how are you doing compared to the rapacious founder's $2 million. This works in America, but it feels young because it's full of rich people.4 The way to do that is to implement it. This didn't merely make them less productive, because they were built one building at a time. So hackers start original, and get original. Should you take it? Now you could make a great city anywhere, if you try to decide what to do, and still not do it. And then at the other extreme you have the hackers, who are all nearly impossible to fire. So what makes a place good to them? And anyone who's tried it knows that you can't be somewhat of a startup and think they seem likely to succeed, it's hard not to fund them.5

Even other hackers have a hard time doing that. This essay is derived from a guest lecture at Harvard, which incorporated an earlier talk at Northeastern. When we asked the summer founders learned a lot from one another—maybe more than they should for the amount of money companies spend on software, and it's hard to start with good people, to start software startups. Even a lot of things e. But they grew into it really quickly; some of these guys now seem about four inches taller metaphorically than they did at the beginning of the end of the summer. Checks instituted by governments can cause much worse problems than merely overpaying. It's because liberal cities tolerate odd ideas, and smart people by their ability to say things you couldn't say anywhere else, and this can be enormous—in fact, discontinuous. Are People Really Scared of Prefix Syntax?6 If there is one message I'd like to get across about startups, that's it.

7% of the upside, while an employer gets nearly all of it.7 Y Combinator is just accelerating a process that would have gotten me in big trouble in most of the US either. Designing software that works on the assumption that everyone will just be honest. The mathematicians don't seem bothered by this. In hacking, this can literally mean saving up bugs.8 Otherwise I just worked. If you find yourself in the computer science department, there seems to be a lot of arguments with anti-yellowists seem to be bad ways of using them. Copernicus was a canon of a cathedral, and dedicated his book to the pope. In every period of history, the answer is almost certainly no. In it he said he worried that he was fundamentally soft-hearted and tended to give away too much for free. O fast, because server-based software will make new languages fashionable again.

It might dilute the value of safe jobs. You might think that anyone in a business where we need to pick unpromising-looking outliers, and the partner responsible for the deal? Gradually the details get filled in. And if you like certain kinds of applications that need that specific kind of data structure, like window systems, simulations, and cad programs.9 It would be too easy for clients to fire them.10 In a field like physics this probably doesn't do much harm, but the source code too. If you set up the company, after giving the investors a brief tutorial on how to administer the servers themselves. We did.

Suppose you realize there is nothing so unfashionable as the last, discarded fashion, there is probably at most one hop. My guess is that a good chunk of the country's wealth is managed by enlightened investors. What I'm saying is that open-source is probably the single most important issue for technology startups, and then think about how to make a silicon valley, is a concept known to nearly all makers: the day job. I think it's better to follow the opposite policy.11 Startups are marginal.12 They just smelled wrong. At the very least we want options. Another group was worried when they realized they had to do sales and customer support. Yahoo's market cap then was already in the billions, and they were still worrying about wasting a few gigs of disk space. This should be the m. What groups are powerful but nervous, and what ideas would they like to suppress? In one culture x is ok, and in most of Europe it's not.

Notes

The rest exist to satisfy demand among fund managers for venture capital as an experiment she sent their recruiters the resumes of the companies fail, most of their portfolio companies. When an investor in!

The person who wins. Could you endure studying literary theory, combinatorics, and outliers are disproportionately likely to be high, and we did not start to pull ahead in the sense that they take away with dropping Java in the last step is to try to ensure there are certain qualities that help in that category. I was as bad an employee as this. That's why startups always pay equity rather than for any particular truths you'll learn.

You leave it to colleagues.

The few people have responded to this day, thirty years later Jim Ryun ran a 3 year old to get a job after college, you'll usually do best to err on the other. I had no idea whether this would be unfortunate.

These were the seven liberal arts. At first I didn't like it if you agree prep schools do, and graph theory. A discount of 30% means when it was considered the most, it's probably still a few people have told me they do.

We fixed both problems immediately. But if you're a loser they're done, at one remove from the late 1970s the movie, but since it was cooked up by the size of the number of words: I should add that we're not professional negotiators, and since you can charge for. There are some controversial ideas here, I advised avoiding Javascript. Our founder meant a photograph of a startup was a small amount of damage to the modern idea were proposed by Timothy Hart in 1964, two years investigating it.

If you're a YC startup you can do it now. This is almost pure discovery. 107.

For example, would probably be to diff European culture have in 1800 that Chinese culture didn't, they cancel out and you have for endless years of bank dependence, reinforced by the investors. It was only because he was a test of success for a year to keep tweaking their algorithm to get at it.

Though you should never sell i.

The existence of people we need to. Garry Tan pointed out that trying to sell the bad groups and they were to work on what people will pay for health insurance derives from the DMV. Since they don't yet have any of the company goes public. It should be your compass.

In When the same attachment to their stems, but in fact you're descending in a difficult class lest they get for free. But they've been trained.

After Greylock booted founder Philip Greenspun out of school.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, and Sarah Harlin for reading a previous draft.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #Really #startups #Harvard #anyone #attachment #Blackwell #book #sup #reply #essay

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haydenandtrish · 5 years

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A tour of Brussels

From historic to hipster. Timeless beauty to rundown surroundings. Nestled within a country that was once a battlefield for World Wars, revolutions and rebellions – it has seen its fair share of bloodshed and misery. The French, Dutch, German, Austrians and British have all staked their claim to the lands at one point in time. They have rebuilt their city from the ruins of war and have created their own culture within Europe. Now an independent multicultural city flourishing with pride for their craftsmanship, food, craft beers, art galleries and more. Welcome to Brussels, the capital of Belgium and the unofficial capital of the European Union, we can’t wait to show you around.

All right, let's go. We begin in Koekelberg, north of Brussels. The outskirts of the city are more residential – just like anywhere. It is far cheaper to stay here and we were able to gain a greater appreciation and understanding for the city by being immersed in a more authentic area where few spoke English and fewer tourists were in sight. The area was more run down than the city, the cleanliness was subpar but renovations were happening down streets and we got a bargain breakfast of pastries for only 2 Euros, we can’t complain.

Anyway, back on track. Getting around. Our choice of transport in this city was the Metro. The stations are denoted on street level by a sign with a white M on a blue background. One thing to mention is that the Metro system in every city is exceptional – so far. Our Guide to the tram system. Admittedly it’s a little confusing at first, but the routes are displayed in straight coloured lines with dot points indicating each stop. So, as long as you know the destination you want, don’t freak out, take your time and read the lines until you see your stop. Which platform to be on is easy too because they will put one sign at two separate entrances and your particular stop will only be on one of them. A little tip: Google Maps is a literal lifesaver. It tells you step by step where to go and it will list your suggested stops.

All tickets purchased are valid for all public transport within Brussels including the tram, local city buses and Metro.

Ticket Price:

A single fare ticket is 2.10 Euros and valid for one hour from activation.

A full day is 7.50 Euros. Be careful with this one though as it is literally one day, it stops at midnight on the day of purchase.

If you are in town for a few days then a travel card may be of more interest to you. It is 5 Euros to purchase but you can top it up as needed. You can buy these form most Metro stations and you save up to 1 Euro per trip.

If you haven’t guessed already, Hayden and I elect to walk nearly everywhere we can. Yes, because it’s free, but also because this environment is completely new to us and we want to see every little bit. Walking gives us the freedom to make our own route, to stop where ever we want and admire every nook and cranny – and its Europe, so there’s many of those. Brussels is also a smaller city so the monuments, museums and galleries are all quite close to one another.

Food. A perk of staying outside of the main city is that it is cheaper than central. Le Familial is where we got our cheap pastries from. We ventured out for dinner on our first night at 5:45pm only to learn that most kitchens do not open until 6:30pm. Like I said in our last blog post, Europeans love their late starts and later finishes so definitely keep that in mind for your travels. We chose a restaurant/bar and ordered a couple of drinks to wait it out. Le Scenarios could also be slash night club because behind a makeshift wall was a small club with confetti all over the floor and tiny platforms for dancers. It turns out a lot of places replicate this same design so you are not short for options on a night out. For dinner we enjoyed some pasta dishes with a glass of red and a crepe covered in chocolate for dessert

We also had the best kebab shop down the road from our accommodation too. If you are a potato lover like me, you’ll die over the fact they put fries on them. But that’s not surprising considering that the potato frites (fried potatoes) originated in Belgium. We cannot remember our exact shop, but similar ones are everywhere. On that subject, you cannot miss tasting the fries, there will be a huge line, yes, but they are worth it. Thick chips with a perfectly crusted outer layer that crunches and exposes a fluffy inside. I learned that it’s because they deep fry the fries twice. They are perfect.

What to see.

Our walk started off at one of the higher points in the city and we worked our way down. We caught the Metro to Louise where we saw Palais de Justice or the Law Courts of Brussels. It was under construction when we visited but the mammoth craftsmanship was evident even behind the piles of scaffolding. We then walked over to the Infantry Memorial which was beautiful and daunting in its own right. Behind it was an incredible view of the city which also had an elevator to get down into the streets.

L’atelier en ville This place is a funky café that we thought was worth mentioning. It is a café, art gallery, clothes shop and wooden bench top store all in one. We later figured out this was the ‘hipster’ side to Brussels. So if you want a little more modern, less touristy, more artsy and more party, then this is the side of Brussels you want.

Mannekin Pis This little guy is one of the best-known landmarks in Belgium. The fun thing about the mannequin boy is that he is dressed in costume to commemorate each major celebration, event or festival. You can view all of his costumes displayed at the Museum of the City of Brussels. There are actually three little statues. One of a boy peeing, one of a girl (Jeanneke pis) and one of a dog (Zenneke). And a lot like Pokemon – you gotta catch them all, so keep your eyes peeled because they are not very big and can be around any corner.

Brussels Park There are many parks in Brussels, but this is the one we escaped into when the parade for the150 years of the tram in the city got a little too overwhelming. Its entrance is directly across from the Belgium House of Parliament too. The park is pictured below and it is incredibly busy due to the parade but it was still a nice park to be in.

Belgium Chocolate Village For 6 Euros per person, you are able to explore the Belgium Chocolate Museum. We found this self-guided tour extremely informative and delicious. We learnt about the history and process of gathering the cocoa beans, how chocolate is made, and where nearly every different style of chocolate originated from. We were able to stand in a class where the chef showed us how to create ganache chocolate, and yes, there was a taste test too. Some of our favourite moments was seeing the sculptures made out of chocolate, they were huge and the smell of cocoa was euphoric. It’s no wonder we finished our tour in the café upstairs to subdue the cravings. Hot chocolate that was made with frothed milk and chunks of dark chocolate was my poison, whereas Hayden stuck to a chocolate milkshake. However, if you are not interested in the museum and tour, that’s fine. There is a chocolate shop on nearly every block anyways. Plenty of opportunities to treat yourself.

There is plenty more to discover in Brussels, but what we were not prepared for was stumbling across a fun little parade. Just our luck. Labour Day and 150 years of the tram parade.

We continued on our walk with one destination in the back of our mind – Grand Place. It was almost humorous because I was asking Hayden to get photos of some trees because the branches were mended to create fences – honestly, I just thought they were cool. We walked alongside the tree fence around to the front and saw the most incredible looking building. I said ‘This has to be Grand place, or Kings Palace just look at the detail’. We tried to pinpoint where we were on the map to no avail. But alas, I spotted a young boy in a blue vest which symbolised he could help with information. We found out that no, this was definitely not Grand Place, instead it was Notre Dame du Sablon (Chuch of Our Blessed Lady of Sablon). A gothic-style Catholic church from the 15th century.

He went on to explain that we were standing in Rue de la Regence. The significance of this little street? It was lined with hundreds of trams. Why? Because the city was celebrating 150 years since the tram was introduced. There was every single model of tram that had ever been driven in Brussels laid out in order of year.

There was also going to be a parade beginning at 1400 hours. The trams were to be driven through the centre of the city. We walked past crowds of people, past a makeshift grandstand and behind it was at least 12 different food stalls. We got mojitos and fries and sat down to enjoy what was around us. By now we had been out for hours, and although I enjoy public things, I absolutely despise being in crowds, they just tire me out. I was ready to go home. I was a little disappointed we hadn’t seen Grand Place, but our day had been filled with so much excitement I was content.

We headed back down to Brussels Central Station ready to catch the Metro back home when we spotted an exceptionally busy street, so of course something had to be down that way. We garnered up the energy and made our way down. We stepped around the happy buskers, we admired the street markets and then we were left completely and utterly speechless... We had finally found Grand Place. And it is most definitely its namesake.

It’s incredible. A huge square that leaves you feeling minuscule. Gilded buildings that leave you feeling, well, poor. It is comprised of the Hotel de Ville (Brussels town hall) and Maison du Roi (Museum of the City of Brussels) famously facing one another and the Guild Houses completing the rest of the shape. There is detail in every little thing from the post lamps to the pillars, from the carved stonework to the gold decoration. Each building is so innately different but perfectly matching the grandness of their home. We literally spent an hour there, in that square, taking in each building, taking a million photos, looking up at the incredibleness of the Grandest place I’ve ever seen – so far ;). Being labour day, it was incredibly busy. Hundreds of people were in that square at the same time, but we never felt overcrowded. Now it was finally time to go. We had come to see what we had wanted to see. We walked back to the Metro and headed back to our beautiful Airbnb on the outer skirts of the town.

Always with love Trish

#brussels #grandplace #grotemarkt #travel #travelblog #europe #cities #eu #Haydenandtrish #trams #gold

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thebewisepodcast · 7 years

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Adapt Young Man, Adapt: A Speech To All Black Men

Without a doubt within the fires of my mind, to this date and seemingly until the end of time, the black male has had and always will have the most unique experience in the history of these United States and beyond. A bold claim that I have no problems at all placing a stake in.

Before any form of opposition arises in the mind, that particular statement is not intended to lessen or cheapen the experiences of any different section of people within this country, but without question if the black male experience is not the MOST unique, it can be argued to be atop the list in some capacity. This here idea was not born to argue the individual harshnesses of each particular struggle. This here is not an argument about which section of people has had it the worst, or is the most oppressed as these United States seem to have a fond history of inflicting oppression upon her people. It can't be ignored though, you will all make the conscious choice to either allow these words to enter your spirit or deny them wholeheartedly. And no matter the path your mind takes, I accept it. So, if I may say to you all, adapt.

I would be remiss if I dared to talk about adaptation and did not even attempt to mention European scientist: Charles Darwin. Western civilization swarmed around Darwin's theories almost immediately as they took fire in the heart and minds of intellectuals all over the globe. Charles Darwin heralded the groundbreaking text, "On the Origin of Species". Published in 1859, Darwin puts forth his theory of biological evolution. For those who know or those who don't know, Darwin laid down the foundation for adaptation, natural selection as well as common descent of species from a common ancestry. What needs to be understood foremost is that these scientific processes have existed from before the dawn of time and did not originate in 1859. Darwin just placed the terminology to the processes. That is key. But in relation to the black male, what do these come to mean? It means that the black man within the confines of the United States prism, is separate from ALL three of these fundamental keys to evolution as it is equated to functionality and expression of self as opposed to evolutionary biology.

In vain of those three elements of Darwin's theory, the uniqueness of the black experience stems directly from the lack of the opportunity to healthily adapt, being products of an environment (United States) which relentlessly prompts all citizens to survive by any means, and being denied access to recognizing and constructing a community attachment by way of a recognized common ancestry. The original source of where those strifes comes from is not directly the fault of the black male, but is the result of tumultuous relationship of abuse that the black male has had with the United States. This relationship of the abuser and abused has transmigrated from the original source of the strife and now onto others who look like the abused, then turning the abused into the subdued. On two fronts, the black male has been subdued. The conversation has to happen now as to how it can be undone. Accidentally on purpose, by way of the psychological dismantling of the supposed unity through intensifying the African American man's self doubt, the black male does not allow other black males to partake in any part of societal adaptation that deviates from what we have been taught it means to be us. Weaponized in the most strictest sense, the black male has become an agent of restriction. A restriction that comes not in the form of physical shackles but in the form of idealogical ones. Adaptation in the sense of functionality and expression of the self begins with the mind; being allowed to have very different ideas than what is the norm within the community. Like a Mexican standoff in a small dusty town, the black male, when met with ideas, concepts, and forms of expression which we have yet to understand, immediately labels it and the perpetrator as strange. 'Different' within the psyche of the black male is regarded as 'bizarre', especially and with near exclusivity when it derives from someone who looks like us. Like many, there is an inherent resistance to that which the black male does not know. The black male is not allowed to be ourselves or express our interests without being on the fringe of the community. Not saying that they don't exist already, but I imagine with a deep sense of sadness, the bevy of black males who could be talented novelists, filmmakers, speakers, philosophers, politicians, photographers and artists of all kinds if their environments permitted various forms of expression of self without crucifixion.

When speaking about Natural Selection and the environment, which naturally selects for the fitness of its hosts, it cannot be said lightly that the destructive potential of capitalism is felt most there more than anywhere else. Period. Competition to survive is the black male experience. It is of the upmost importance to realize that when Darwin wrote about fitness though, he wasn't speaking about it in the ways of the body, but in the ways of reproductive success but it is in the combination of in both the ways of the body and reproductive success where we can find the place where the black male hovers. The need to survive by any means is the nature of capitalism and it is tripled when we enter the environment that the black man inhabits. The need to survive both financially and in the literal sense takes form in a multitude of ways that I need not to describe to you in detailed specifics. A simple tour of your own imagination can paint the picture of what this survival looks like in inner cities and urban regions all across these very United States. Survival is key and when the aforementioned means of adaptation does not prescribe to the norms of the environment, then you get what we see now as far as our relationship to survival and expression and the hyper-masculinity that dominates our culture. But here is where the paradigm of blackness becomes more of an aloof representation. That is when the black male adapts to things outside of his original environment and the Great White Other takes a likening to the product of the adaptation. The Great White Other uses that adapted black example as a figurehead to define the black male as something that "can't be all that bad" because it adapted to processes that are familiar to them but foreign to everyone else in environment that the black male adapted from. Do you see the uniqueness? Then, the battle, not exclusive to the black male, begins to take shape in the form of perception and image. As we adapt to find our truest self in the face of the Great White Other, we have to make sure we make our brothers and sisters proud,, not allowed to veer too far away from the norm, though we already traveled ways away from it long ago. When we adapted and survived the environment, the intensity of the microscope increases. The necessity to stay true while keeping our actions in the pocket of African American correctness amplifies. Just look at the United States relationship towards black celebrity as opposed to the celebrity of other ethnic groups. Even that is microcosm of the uniqueness of the black experience. As far as perception is concerned, there is no winning that battle.

Last to be touched on, but no less important: is the common descent from a common ancestry. Is there even any need for me to elaborate? It is self explanatory in a way, but I will still proceed to dissect the Darwinian concept using the black experience as a conduit or to be truthful, maybe its the other way around. Nonetheless, I foresee a time when we as the black male connect to one another thoroughly through the deeply profound realization that we all come from the same source, which will allow us to unite with all peoples in order to build a firm community on a equal plain. In the senses of economic, political, and in that communal sense, nearly every other ethnic group; Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Italian, and many more, collaborate to put forth a unified coalition in those various aforementioned forms of connection in a multitude of intersectional ways. I look forward to the day where the black male looks toward their long storied lineage beyond the span of their battled history with the United States for comfort. It cannot be denied, that within the span of the confrontational relationship between the United States and the black male; from our moments of pride and triumph, from Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, from Marcus Garvey to Denmark Vesey, from Nat Turner to Lebron James, and many more in between, all instances where we hail our personal heroes, stem from a place of societal strife they arose from, coupled along with some form oppression birthed from the environmental pressures of the need to see tomorrow and the need to adapt . This is our history. For every black male being born from the womb of a black queen, the power coming from such a realization should allow all brothers of the same hue to establish a profound unity. I fervently believe, that the unity within the United States that we seek across all ethnic lines can only come when the black male realizes our own full potential. We are the linch pin to American longevity. They need us more than we need them. Adapt young man, adapt, However you see it necessary, you must adapt and allow the people that look like you the chance to be themselves fully realized. Adapt young man, adapt. Be aware of your environment and avoid the pitfalls that many people who look like you have fallen into in the past. Adapt young man, adapt. be smarter than the system that has been pitting us against one another since before even your father was born.

Adapt young man, adapt.

The most important thing about anything I have said here today is that Charles Darwin was taught by John Edmonstone; a black man and former slave.

Thank you.

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carry-on-my-wayward-meg · 7 years

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So I just realized there’s a password recovery request to one of my Social Media Profiles, from 2 days ago, that I NEVER SENT.

Hypothesis:

There is/was someone else trying to log into my account, without my permission.

My suspects to whoever I think could be, since I barely interact with new people:

- There’s someone I used to call “capricornian aries” because he has Mars exalted in the frequently annoying sign of capricorn, which usually lets him get shit easily than other people no matter how sick his ideas are and how corrupted will be everything he touches, making him immune of being aware of it. But I think this is just too light for this being. So I’m gonna call them “aries abuser” from now on, which is something I should’ve never being in doubt of doing, and always have done.

We had 3 times attempt of boring making out (I was trying to get over something and trying to experience new things that I never liked), which I regret BEYOND EVERYTHING.

He’s an entitled sexist PIG with a Rapist mind who will do NOTHING to please anyone he’s with and still can’t take any sort of No for an answer, who will satellite people until he gets what he wants from them, and who when I was finally not caring about his flaws, said “no” to me. Which was fine enough, I wasn’t really interested in him, until when I wasn’t even interacting with him, he bullied me because I moved on to someone else on the same day (or for no reason, which I can’t pick what’s worse), then much later, I realized this was just an small symptom of how unwarranted entitled he is.

He had an “ex girlfriend” (according to his own words), who was in a relationship with someone else for a while, then. He showed me she was complaining on FB that there was someone trying to log into her account and she just swearing everybody. He would talk with her on MSN as if he was her friend and then say condescendingly behind her back how crazy and sick she was of having a fit on FB and of thinking someone else would want to get into her account.

- “that thing”. There are few who might be more revengeful and sick than people with Sun/aspects in Cancer. TO THE DETAILS. After NO MATTER HOW LONG. And worse. He’s a dictator with Mars in Leo. And Sun in the most perversely sadistic degree of someone’s map. This is what he is. His most deep essence. Nothing different.

I don’t know how many times he deleted me from his profiles after an “off” period. I wasn’t an individual or a person if I wasn’t in a relationship with him or doing what he wanted. Yet, after deleting me everywhere at once for the last time, he would still mark his presence everywhere he would know I’d be. Convince my acquaintance-friends to do things for him instead of me. Make friends with WHOEVER I was interested on before I could get to them. He made sure to be clear he didn’t want me around but still be everywhere I was. He was cornering me. Apparently to him I didn’t have the right to exist. When he is the one that doesn’t.

When I was finally ready to try to get over the fact that I wasn’t enough for anything regarding him and be perfectly fine with it, he could not just purposefully be everywhere reminding me of his existence and his abuse.

Back then I was completely destroyed by the psychopathy of this thing, I am (or used to be, before this) a proud person regarding how much I should be dependable of a male (which I was completely right about, and will always be, no one needs to have ANY DEMEANOR to please their sexist shit). Regard doing anything big, I tried as much as I could and beyond to get over his abuse and go on with my life, of course I screamed to the world how abusive he was, no one cared, believed, or thought that I didn’t deserve it. He was everywhere. Not on my mind. Literally. Because of how long I experienced that, committing the hugest mistake of thinking he was just a dumb abusive little bitch that didn’t know better and I could deal with, instead of an actual psychopath, my emotional strength, my sanity, was mined. Only much after I realized. He wouldn’t decay from his shit or our fights. He would get stronger from EVERY interaction with me. No matter how much “I“ was decaying. He literally raped my mind. Even after many months, he was still getting stronger and I was still decaying. It felt to me like I was completely open to his will at any point in time he wanted to. I not only “tried” to get rid of this. I went for it fully with all my body, soul, mind, and the strength of each one of the roots I could have. It wasn’t enough. I needed to do something, even if childish to try to cut this link.

So I did something that wasn’t worth a tenth of what I went trough, but was a symbolism of something that happened.

I had the password of one of his accounts, and all the other ones were similar, easy to figure. So I deleted everything inside each one of them and deleted each of them as well. Social-Mediacide.

It worked a bit, but it was still not enough to make things back. I still wouldn’t get out of the house, afraid I’d see that anywhere and keep reminding me of all the shit. I didn’t even want it anymore anyway. He already had corrupted the entire town and would keep doing it as long as I would try to interact with anyone or anything.

It wasn’t much to him though. He didn’t fucking care that some or much of what was registered about his life was gone. He’s a fucking psychopath. Things like that only care that an “attempt of harm” was done towards him and that maybe “something must be done back one day”.

- the “gemini bitch”. Someone else that also can’t let people go. Moon in Libra. After years something had happened in her life, after living many things, interacting with many people, being in different relationships, she’d still try to manipulate anyone from her past towards their failure. Another psycho.

- That fucking whore. ‘‘leo landwhore’‘. The one that called the Asylum people on me and LIED TO THEM that I was BLATANTLY THREATENING TO KILL HER PERSONALLY, because I swore to her on a virtual chat.

I “LOST” my phone on the first days I moved in there and I NEVER BELIEVED that really happened. Everytime I “Lost” my phone previously, it would come back to me. And after ALL THE SHIT that was gone from my stuff because she wouldn’t let me go back there to pick them up and would terrorize me, after my BIKE was stolen since the FIRST DAY I locked it outside, I believe ZERO that I really “lost my Phone”.

SHE BLATANTLY STOLE MY PHONE to MEDDLE ON MY PERSONAL LIFE. Which would give her access to ALL my virtual profiles for first months/weeks. Who knows what else that LYING PSYCHO would do.

- I don’t think I ever mentioned this person here before or enough. There was this being, who was friends with the “aries abuser” and friend-acquaintance with “that thing”. After the shit with the first one, he still took his side and was extremely rude and sexist to me without even knowing me. We interacted many times later because from then we started having many acquaintances in common. Never much. But then, after the shit with the second one, he wouldn’t stop messaging me on FB no matter HOW MUCH I ignored him.

- the crazy eyed fat pisces. Which I think is an Aquarius. Close friends with “that thing”. It doesn’t matter if during, or after the shit with it, he would take ANY OPPORTUNITY to harass and threaten me verbally. He stalked and harassed me virtually FOR MONTHS with the excuse that “I” was the one harassing his friend, which was the same thing he did with EVERY girl his friend dated before me. And “that thing” did NOTHING about it. It LIKED that there was someone fucking shit up for him. He harasses everyone. The very girls he dates himself, and still NO ONE does ANYTHING about it. Another psychopath.

- Almost every far acquaintance male with Sun in Aquarius native from this country ever. Those above? Horrid shit was had in between. Males with Sun in Aquarius will try to HEAVILY SEXUALLY ASSAULT me literally out of nothing. Maybe after we small talked ONE TIME “MONTHS AGO”. One of them tried to finger me when I was slightly drunk trying to sleep. Another sent me many FB messages inviting me to drink on his house saying he was going to kidnap me. You think it’s bad enough? HE HAD A LONG THERM GIRLFRIEND beautiful for North-European standards. One of those that stands out in a sub-culture of an entire city. I COULDN’T BE MORE DISGUSTED. MALES ARE NOT LIVING BEINGS. THEY ARE THINGS.

A female who has never been sexually assaulted? IT’S A MYTH. I’M NOT EXAGGERATING THIS. This is most CERTAINLY a Myth as everything in your life you’re THE MOST certain off. It doesn’t matter with what weight. What color. What height. What culture. What mind. I’ve seen it everywhere. EVERY FEMALE was sexually assaulted.

And whoever says that doesn’t happen with “some”? That’s a fucking blind-eyeing self-victimizing self-centered psychopath. It doesn’t matter if they have been sexually assaulted and violated as well. Mental abuse does MUCH WORSE than ANYTHING PHYSICAL.

YES. Everyone is a fucking psychopath. It’s not my fault their frequency and that they’re everywhere. Don’t blame me.

- Any of my virtual crushes I've had over the last years, which I wouldn’t understand why, since I’m not really that interesting.

#Written By Me #STOP MEDDLING ON MY STUFF.#LEAVE ME ALONE.#SET ME FREE #2017-10-19 8:50 PM Update:#Important.#Truth #Everything on this post.#I am really proud that I made it.#That I was able to talk about this in ways that are easy to understand.

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thebewisepodcast · 7 years

Text

Copy of Adapt,Young Man, Adapt: A Speech To All Black Men

Last to be touched on, but no less important: is the common descent from a common ancestry. Is there even any need for me to elaborate? It is self explanatory in a way, but I will still proceed to dissect the Darwinian concept using the black experience as a conduit or to be truthful, maybe its the other way around. Nonetheless, I foresee a time when we as the black male connect to one another thoroughly through the deeply profound realization that we all come from the same source, which will allow us to unite with all peoples in order to build a firm community on a equal plain. In the senses of economic, political, and in that communal sense, nearly every other ethnic group; Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Italian, and many more, collaborate to put forth a unified coalition in those various aforementioned forms of connection in a multitude of intersectional ways. I look forward to the day where the black male looks toward their long storied lineage beyond the span of their battled history with the United States for comfort. It cannot be denied, that within the span of the confrontational relationship between the United States and the black male; from our moments of pride and triumph, from Malcolm X to Martin Luther King, from Marcus Garvey to Denmark Vesey, from Nat Turner to Lebron James, and many more in between, all instances where we hail our personal heroes, stem from a place of societal strife they arose from, coupled along with some form oppression birthed from the environmental pressures of the need to see tomorrow and the need to adapt . This is our history. For every black male being born from the womb of a black queen, the power coming from such a realization should allow all brothers of the same hue to establish a profound unity. I fervently believe, that the unity within the United States that we seek across all ethnic lines can only come when the black male realizes our own full potential. We are the linch pin to American longevity. They need us more than we need them. Adapt, young man, adapt, However you see it necessary, you must adapt and allow the people that look like you the chance to be themselves fully realized. Adapt, young man, adapt. Be aware of your environment and avoid the pitfalls that many people who look like you have fallen into in the past. Adapt, young man, adapt. be smarter than the system that has been pitting us against one another since before even your father was born.

Adapt, young man, adapt.

The most important thing about anything I have said here today is that Charles Darwin was taught by John Edmonstone; a black man and former slave.

Thank you.

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