#Creating a violence-free society

[mapecl-stories]

[jadenvargen]

free online james baldwin stories, essays, videos, and other resources

**edit

James baldwin online archive with his articles and photo archives.

---NOVELS---

Giovanni's room"When David meets the sensual Giovanni in a bohemian bar, he is swept into a passionate love affair. But his girlfriend's return to Paris destroys everything. Unable to admit to the truth, David pretends the liaison never happened - while Giovanni's life descends into tragedy. This book introduces love's fascinating possibilities and extremities."

Go Tell It On The Mountain"(...)Baldwin's first major work, a semi-autobiographical novel that has established itself as an American classic. With lyrical precision, psychological directness, resonating symbolic power, and a rage that is at once unrelenting and compassionate, Baldwin chronicles a fourteen-year-old boy's discovery of the terms of his identity as the stepson of the minister of a storefront Pentecostal church in Harlem one Saturday in March of 1935. Baldwin's rendering of his protagonist's spiritual, sexual, and moral struggle of self-invention opened new possibilities in the American language and in the way Americans understand themselves."

+bonus: film adaptation on youtube. (if you’re a giancarlo esposito fan, you’ll be delighted to see him in an early preacher role)

Another Country and Going to Meet the Man Another country: "James Baldwin's masterly story of desire, hatred and violence opens with the unforgettable character of Rufus Scott, a scavenging Harlem jazz musician adrift in New York. Self-destructive, bad and brilliant, he draws us into a Bohemian underworld pulsing with heat, music and sex, where desperate and dangerous characters betray, love and test each other to the limit." Going to meet the Man: " collection of eight short stories by American writer James Baldwin. The book, dedicated "for Beauford Delaney", covers many topics related to anti-Black racism in American society, as well as African-American–Jewish relations, childhood, the creative process, criminal justice, drug addiction, family relationships, jazz, lynching, sexuality, and white supremacy."

Just Above My Head"Here, in a monumental saga of love and rage, Baldwin goes back to Harlem, to the church of his groundbreaking novel Go Tell It on the Mountain, to the homosexual passion of Giovanni's Room, and to the political fire that enflames his nonfiction work. Here, too, the story of gospel singer Arthur Hall and his family becomes both a journey into another country of the soul and senses--and a living contemporary history of black struggle in this land."

If Beale Street Could Talk"Told through the eyes of Tish, a nineteen-year-old girl, in love with Fonny, a young sculptor who is the father of her child, Baldwin's story mixes the sweet and the sad. Tish and Fonny have pledged to get married, but Fonny is falsely accused of a terrible crime and imprisoned. Their families set out to clear his name, and as they face an uncertain future, the young lovers experience a kaleidoscope of emotions-affection, despair, and hope. In a love story that evokes the blues, where passion and sadness are inevitably intertwined, Baldwin has created two characters so alive and profoundly realized that they are unforgettably ingrained in the American psyche."

also has a film adaptation by moonlight's barry jenkins

Tell Me How Long the Train's been gone At the height of his theatrical career, the actor Leo Proudhammer is nearly felled by a heart attack. As he hovers between life and death, Baldwin shows the choices that have made him enviably famous and terrifyingly vulnerable. For between Leo's childhood on the streets of Harlem and his arrival into the intoxicating world of the theater lies a wilderness of desire and loss, shame and rage. An adored older brother vanishes into prison. There are love affairs with a white woman and a younger black man, each of whom will make irresistible claims on Leo's loyalty. 

---ESSAYS---

Baldwin essay collection. Including most famously: notes of a native son, nobody knows my name, the fire next time, no name in the street, the devil finds work- baldwin on film

--DOCUMENTARIES--

Take this hammer, a tour of san Francisco.

Meeting the man

--DEBATES:--

Debate with Malcolm x, 1963 ( on integration, the nation of islam, and other topics. )

Debate with William Buckley, 1965. ( historic debate in america. )

Heavily moderated debate with Malcolm x, Charles Eric Lincoln, and Samuel Schyle 1961. (Primarily Malcolm X's debate on behalf of the nation of islam, with Baldwin giving occassional inputs.)

----

apart from themes obvious in the book's descriptions, a general heads up for themes of incest and sexual assault throughout his works.

[creature-wizard]

Check your conspiracy theory. Does it sound anything like this?

There is an ancient global conspiracy plotting to create a one world government.

The one world government will be headed by a single leader.

The conspiracy intends to make everyone follow a religion it created.

The conspiracy is trying to destroy all true religion/spirituality.

The conspiracy deliberately stirs up conflict and starts wars.

The conspiracy deliberately does whatever it can to confuse, exhaust, and demoralize the people.

The conspiracy creates and/or manipulates art and entertainment to control and brainwash the masses.

The conspiracy uses mind-altering substances to manipulate and control people.

Progressive policies (EG, religious tolerance, equality) are part of the conspiracy.

Communism and collectivism are part of the conspiracy.

The conspiracy manipulates the economy to our detriment.

The conspiracy wants to do away with the gold standard.

The conspiracy wants to do away with the free market.

The conspiracy intends to tax the rich, which is bad because taxes are just legal theft.

Teaching people about the mistakes and atrocities committed by governments is part of the conspiracy.

The conspiracy creates new religions and spiritual movements to further their agendas.

All secret societies (EG, Freemasonry) are part of the conspiracy.

Presidents are manipulated puppets of the conspiracy.

The conspiracy manipulates anyone with a high political position.

The conspiracy grooms world leaders.

Agents of the conspiracy are planted everywhere, in all levels of society.

The conspiracy kills anyone who might expose their plans in ways that no one would suspect are actually murder.

The conspiracy follows/uses the Kabbalah.

Literally all of these were claimed in The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, an antisemitic hoax used by the Okhrana to justify violence against Russian Jews. It was used by Nazi Germany to justify the Holocaust, and today it still serves as the blueprint for most conspiracy theories - even if modern conspiracy theorists try to hide it, downplay it, or rationalize it with another, equally absurd conspiracy theory.

[cupidlovesastro]

𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 #𝟏𝟓 (𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

earth sun, moon, venus, or dominant people can have a love for nature as a whole, the animals, the plants, the sky, etc

water sun, moon venus, or dominant people have an attraction to lakes, rivers, oceans, ponds, rain, etc. they may even have a love for sea animals

fire sun, moon, venus, or dominant’s love the sun, summer time, drier weather, lava, campfires, etc

air sun, moon, venus, or dominant’s love the air, the sky, clouds, the stars, space, birds, butterflies, moths, etc

sagittarius in big 6 or stellium individuals are very free spirited and love being adventurous. they are very open minded and try to hear all perspectives

aquarius in big 6 or stellium people have a need for freedom and independence. they don’t like being tied down or held back

inner planets in the 6th house or 6h stelliums can have a love for animals and living creatures in general

uranus in the 1h means you are openly rebellious and go against the societal stereotypes. you question the rules and push boundaries while also being humanitarians

taurus in 2h can shows that you value the physical things in life. taurus is also an earth sign, meaning you enjoy the feelings of grass, the sound of the water, the smell of flower, etc

venus in 2h means that you value music, love, peace, and harmony

venus in 11h can show that you enjoy being around groups of people who share a love for the desire of peace, love, and music

uranus in 9h means that you go against the culture, the worlds views, and beliefs

aquarius moons/ uranus aspecting moon people find comfort through the rebellion and change

aquarius mars/ uranus aspecting mars people have a deep passion for change, especially when it comes to betterment of society. they are willing to take the risk if it means creating a difference

𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤

8h stellium- lots of sexual activity happening, people feeling deeply connected, dark things happening

8h sun- one of the thing that woodstock is notoriously known for at its core, is the amount of people engaging in sexual activities

uranus is 9h- going against social norms, the law, religions, the american culture at that time

mars in 11h- groups of people being aggressive, sexual, violent. also passion about their hopes, dreams, wishes, and the future

neptune in 11h- idealizing the idea of people being all together and groups of people being delusional and easily impressionable

pluto in 8h- lots of karmic energy, people wanting sexual power fama conjunct eros- famous for sexual activity

jupiter conjunct uranus- large amounts of rebellion, lots of unpredictable behavior/events, growth through change

mercury sextile venus- communicating love, peace, and harmony instead of war

makemake conjunct sun- woodstock was made to make a change to the idea of war and violence and was known as an attempt to protect the environment and idea of peace

vesta conjunct venus- love, music, harmony, was what kept people going during woodstock. they were devoted to their beliefs of peace

fama conjunct venus- famous for being about music, love, peace, harmony, etc

makemake opposite karma- although wood stock was an attempt to restore and maintain peace. it took a turn for the worse and lead to many horrible incidents

[hadesoftheladies]

to my indian sisters, may you know your grief and anger are shared by many. may you create a more just world with your voices. you are the path toward a humane and fantastic future, you are the explorers and inventors our world desperately needs. your strength is the pride of the human race.

to my usa-american sisters, may you secure your rights and come together in a new and powerful way, pulling away from other divisions in order to come into your power and wrestle your country back from the self-destructive hands of men. to my native sisters especially, may your resilience in guarding the earth from the violence of men yield fruit. may your people roam their lands freely and without fear once again. may your daughters be rescued from the dim trucks of the military ghouls of a society merely pretending at civilization.

to my afghani sisters, may the world, sun and sky, once again see your beautiful faces. may your voices run as free, wild and far as the wind again in song.

to my sisters in iran, may you you once again dance without fear as boldly as the fire. may the evil world of men around you burn and may your daughters and mothers kick up its ashes. women. life. freedom.

to my south korean sisters, you are fiercer than anyone could have ever imagined, a beacon of hope to women everywhere. you have inspired a generation of women to reclaim what is rightfully theirs and there is no reward we could give that would ever measure up to that gift. i will do my best to follow your lead into freedom.

to my sisters in congo, no one knows the pain you have endured and no one can fathom it. i will keep my ear out for your weeping and your crying. i will not turn my face from you. i will see you.

to my sisters in sudan, you have done your best to bear more than can be humanly possible. i cannot comprehend the volume of your suffering. i cannot fathom it. but i refuse to forget you. i ache for you. may your stomachs once again be full and your bodies free of the pain of hunger. may you find shelter from the desert and the wild men that roam it.

to my tigrayan sisters, you should never have had to suffer for the hatred and greed in men's hearts. may your world be once again filled with friends instead of enemies.

to my sisters trapped and corralled in deutschland, may you break out from the display windows and trafficking pens. may your body find rest and comfort. may you find home and love. may you go to bed at night and fear nothing. may the district one day go completely dark.

to my sisters in palestine, may you see the day you rebuild what had been utterly destroyed. may your every need be met and your grief validated. may your anguish be taken from you. may abundance surround you and may there be laughter once again in your homes.

to the immigrant women, the working class women, the mothers, the schoolgirls, the women in cities and countries facing rising rates of femicide and assault, the victims of cyber-bullying . . .

there are so many of us, suffering at the hands of incessant male violence. no matter the age, income, or ethnicity. no matter the location. it is everywhere. and so i grieve with all of you, i am angry on all your behalf, i hope for all of us. and i will do what i can to let you know you are not alone in the world. we are here, all of us, together.

may we all be free.

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire

Summary: You just can’t seem to find yourself in this stupid school for freaks, but just when you’re sure no one cares anymore, a man with adamantium claws disturbs your groaning with a promise. Except he forgot to mention everything good comes with a price.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Anxiety, hints to violence, loneliness, I guess angst, manipulation (The reader is helpless and will look for anything to make her happy), some hints towards suggestive material near the end, bad language word use, pet names.

Word Count: 3523 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Xavier's Mansion.

Also known as the school for “Gifted Youngsters,” or simply for what society prefers to call, “Freaks.”

You’d been there for a few months. You have a very unique power, something even Xavier himself doesn’t understand how to control.

You get these looks all the time when you're walking in the halls of the mansion. You notice it when people cover their mouths to whisper about you and you can’t not notice it when you seem to create a bubble around you as some of the kids try to keep a distance.

Yea, it hurts. You couldn’t deny that either. Sometimes you’d even have to find a restroom really fast to cry to yourself in one of the stalls, but even that hurts when some of the students quickly flood out of the restroom after you enter.

Nobody knew how much it hurt you, nobody even knew what powers you really had. If they did, you would’ve already been sent to the ice box, but luckily, you didn’t know how to use your more dangerous powers. You figured Xavier probably knew about them, considering he can read your mind and he knows just exactly how powerful you really were, but he didn’t know if you knew about them. And what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

The hardest part was going to class. While everyone else had a table of four people, you sat alone. You did every project alone, with high soaring grades by the way, and you never got to speak to anyone during discussion or free time before the bell rang.

Sometimes you wish you were just… normal.

Of course, you weren’t the only person that was avoided. There were a few other students and even some of the adults that were always avoided. The only true friend you seemed to have was Hank McCoy. Everyone used to fear him, thinking that he couldn’t control the “Beast,” so he knows how you feel. But sometimes it only felt like he tolerated you because you were smart, and you were the only student that could aid him in building anything related to tech, and nanotech, and coding, and all that good stuff.

“Have you figured out why it isn’t working?” Was the first thing he asked you as you walked into his lab. Not a good morning, no how’s class, and not even hello. “I was thinking it had something to do with our maths, that maybe we calculated something wrong but I’ve looked over it again and again and couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.” He tells you, picking up his notebook which you could see was now full of mathematical equations and random scribbles which seemed to radiate with frustration.

“I don’t think we got the maths wrong, I’ve checked it about a thousand times.” You say quietly, then gently put your bag full of books down under one of his desks so it wasn’t in the way. “Pretty sure it just needs to be smaller. Nothing really about maths though. Other than that, the fibres need to be smaller.”

“So it is the maths?”

“Eh, kind of.” You groan a little and stretch before grabbing a small, delicate pair of tweezers. “This is still too big.” You tell him, placing a sample of part of your tech down under a microscope, strong enough you’re surprised it couldn’t see atoms. “See, this is about as thick as a piece of hair, which is about the size of…” You sigh, looking back at your maths. “It’s about 50,000 nanoparticles, so not a lot, but we need it to be a little smaller.” You tell him, then look away from the small bit of tech to look up at him, his eyes squinted in your direction as is he was trying to understand what you were saying. “Okay I’ll dumb it down. It’s about as thick as a piece of hair right now, we need to numb it down to about… only one hundred nanoparticles, so it should be about as thick as graphene.”

“What’re you two nerds going on about now?” Another voice cuts into your explanation. It was none other than the gruffy voice of Wolverine.

“Oh hey, Logan.” Hank abandons the workstation to go over Logan who was making himself some coffee. “Just figuring out something about nano…”

“Nanoparticles.” You finish his sentence.

“Yea, that.” He says plainly, not bothering to look at you as you turn away from their conversation and look through the microscope.

“Now how do I make you that small…” You whisper to yourself, gently lifting the particle string with your delicate tweezers and examining it through the microscope. “Hmm…” You hum to yourself.

“Y/N!” Hank calls for you, and you turn around. “I’m going out to pick up some lunch for the both of us. What would you like? I’m getting Mexican.” You tell him what you would like, and he takes a moment to clean his work area and stuff his wallet in his pocket before he finally leaves. Leaving you to stand by your desk, doing all the work that has to do with nanotech, but also leaving the Wolverine with you.

“So what exactly are you two working on?” You hear his voice behind you, then you see him next to you.

“Teleportation. Not as complicated as you think, it’s just the fear that gets to everyone really.” You look away from your work, and your eyes land on him. His arms crossed as he leaned on a nearby table, showing enough respect to not sit on your working table.

“Seems complicated. What could possibly be scary about it though? It's just teleportation.”

“Well. If you think deeper into it. Your body and every single atom and particle of your body has to be completely broken down into an uncountable amount of smaller pieces and then your body has to rebuild itself in the secondary location, you just have to hope that it rebuilds you correctly. Or the next thing you know half your right arm is also half of your left leg with toes for fingers.” You say without taking a breath, taking a deep breath after letting it all out. Staring back up at him, his eyes were now squinted in confusion.

“I don’t think anyone is scared of that except you. I’ve never even thought about that.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his scalding hot black coffee.

“Yea well… I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.” You tell him through gritted teeth, mumbling before grabbing your notebook.

“You know…” He pauses, placing his hot coffee mug on another table away from your work before walking back up next to you, placing his palms on your table where there wasn’t electronic junk lying around. “You aren’t the only one.”

“The only one?” You question, turning and grabbing another tool before looking under your microscope, turning the string around to try and figure out how to break it into a smaller piece, without actually breaking it.

“The only one that’s feared.”

You stop what you’re doing, still looking into the microscope but not actually paying attention to what was right in front of your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way some of the other kids look at you, bub. Like there’s something wrong with you. I know how it feels to not fit in.” He crosses his arms as he leans against your table, attempting to get your full attention. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’ve seen you in the halls. Your name is Y/N, right?” You nod, his eyes and yours locked onto each other. “Logan.” He says, reaching his hand out to shake yours. Your hand basically gets engulfed by his as your soft hand meets his, which were rough and still yet soft, that surprised you, considering… “Hank talks about you a lot also. Not like he loves you or anything, he just tells me you’re smart. Like really smart.” He shrugs.

“Hm…” You hum a little. This is the first conversation you’ve had with someone in this school where they’ve actually treated you like a real human.

“Considering the way you explain this stuff, I’d say he’s probably right about you being smart.” He nodded towards the nanoparticles still sitting under your microscope, it was hard to see from even a foot away considering it was the width of a single piece of hair. “So what exactly is a nanoparticle? Or nano…”

“Nanoparticle" is correct. It just like a piece of tech or anything made of tech like certain fibers that can be visible to the naked eye but they’re very small. Just this one piece is the width of 50,000 nanoparticles.” You carefully pick up the string, and gently put it in it’s container.

“And what was that other thing you mentioned earlier?”

“Graphene?”

“Yea.”

“It’s made of about 50 to 100 nanoparticles, and it can be seen with the naked eye through a refraction of light in a mirror or clear substance that has a bend in it.”

“I’m not completely sure what any of that means. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Yea, I’m kind of a nerd.” You chuckle awkwardly, then reach down to pull your bag over your shoulder, your social battery is pretty much near zero for the day, or maybe week. This was you first time ever speaking to Wolverine and you just nerd out on him? What were you thinking?

“Alright, I got food. Where are you heading?” Hank finally comes back, a bag full of boxes with the three of your foods in them in his right hand as he enters the lab, letting the metal door close behind him.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Well you know the rules. No food in the rooms.”

“Yea, yea. I know.” You sigh, setting your bag back down as he hands you your box of food and you hop onto one of the clean counters to sit down as you eat your food.

“Have you seen Xavier today?” He asks Logan, handing him his food also.

“No, he’s out on some special mission with Mystique right now, won’t be back for about another week.”

“And what does he have you doing? You never leave your room so I’m assuming he's’ got you doing something?” Hank stands next to Logan as they both talk back and forth.

“He has me teaching his third class and fifth class. I guess that one is the anger management class and the other is meditation.”

“Ah, so he’s got you teaching the two classes you used to fail in.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

After working in the lab, a lot shorter than usual, you actually head back to your room. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been ecstatic to meet Wolverine for years, and when you finally get to have a conversation with him, you just geek out on him about nanotech?

As you hang your bag on the wall and remove your jacket only to throw it on the back of your desk chair, you can’t help but want to just smash your head on a wall until you’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened today.

You mope as you walk into the centre of your small room, stopping and staring at the mess on your desk, a bunch of full notebooks covered in little pen markings of maths and science that no one else in the school would understand.

You walk to the desk, take one of the notebooks in your hand that had some free space left, and drop down on your bed. Reaching behind your head, you pull your sweater over your head and discard it on the floor before leaning against your headboard and clicking the back of your pencil until the led is at your desired length.

As soon as the tip of the led touches the paper, your mind wanders. That was so embarrassing… You realise, scribbling random maths into your notebook. I can’t believe I just made a professor hate me too… Not only had you dissociated, but you also completely nerded out. You talked about nanoparticles as if it was the only thing you cared about. You care about more though. You care about the family that was so scared of you they sent you off to this stupid school, calling you a freak and breaking all ties with you. No, you don’t care about them. But you care about your friends so much! You don’t have any friends. Hank is very special to you, he holds a space in your heart. A very, very small space. Yea he doesn’t care about you, you’ve just been able to make about a thousand breaks in his experiments. Then of course he would take all of the credit when he would show it to Professor X.

Why do you even try? I guess working with Hank is the equivalent of the other students going out to the mall with their friends. The only difference is he wasn’t your friend.

You take it back, you had one friend. If you could even call someone you only text cause you’re too scared for actual confrontation, a friend. Nightcrawler- or Kurt. The one guy who’s ever made an actual effort to try and be your friend, he’s just always out on missions. Or so that’s what his actual friends tell you. Maybe you should send him a text and actually verify whether he hates you or not… You get up from your bed and unzip your bag, sticking your hand into the pocket where you always shove your phone, but it’s not there. What the fuck? You take your bag off it’s hook and search the rest of the pockets, and still no phone. You go to your bed, searching under the covers and getting on your knees to check under the bed, still no phone. You check your desk, your discarded sweater, and you sweep the floor with your eyes looking for it, thinking it might’ve just fallen out of your pocket. You hate seeming desperate for a simple device that rots your brain to default, but God that phone is your escape.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” A voice cuts into your messy search as you turn around and your door is cracked just enough for him to stick his head in.

“Sorry, Mr. Howlett, I just can’t find my phone.” You chuckle awkwardly, standing in the centre of your room as he peeks around your room at the mess you’ve created.

“Again, you can call me Logan. I don’t mind it, I prefer it actually. Do you mind if I step in?”

“Yea, it’s fine. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really had time to clean it.” You nervously link your fingers together in front of you and let your thumb pick at your skin as he comes in, closing the door gently behind him.

“It’s not a mess, just a sweater on the floor and notebooks on the bed.” Sweater on the floor. Of course. Yea, you were standing in the centre of your room, in your shorts and a black fucking clasp on bra. Now you suddenly feel naked standing in front of him, so you cross your arms, hoping to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

“Well uh, what’s up?” You try sounding cool but immediately cringe.

“You left this in the lab.” He tells you, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out your phone, handing it to you backside up, so you could see the glittery phone case, adorned with pink sparkles. “Was gonna give it to you in class but you kids go crazy over your phones.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go crazy…” You tell him, humour in your voice as you awkwardly look around your room, the sheets halfway off the bed and your pillows tossed in the middle, the result in the crazy search for your phone. “Would just be a little annoyed…”

“So is everything okay?”

“Yea, why do you ask?”

“I was knocking on your door and sayin’ your name. but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh,” You laugh dryly. “Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my head and kinda just block out all sounds and sometimes I’ll block out what’s in front of me."

“Oh I see.” What do I say to respond to that? “What were you working on?” Why is he still here?

“Honestly, I don’t know, I was just scribbling.”

“Had enough maths for the day?” He jokes.

“Had enough maths for the month.” You mumble, but then he laughs. A short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Isn’t he annoyed by you? Why is he still- “What would you be doin’ if Hank didn’t have you doing all this brain stuff?” Oh.

“Well uh, nothing probably.”

“Not one for hanging out with your friends?”

“Friends? Hah!” You laugh with sarcasm, then walk over to your discarded sweater, bending over to pick it up, deciding to distract yourself with cleaning. “It's not easy for a freak to make friends.” You mumble to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear, of course, he did.

“You’re not a freak.” He crosses his arms as you look over your shoulder at him.

“Yea sure. Everyone in the school would so easily disagree with you on that.” You say back, folding the sweater before tossing it into your dirty laundry basket. “Professor X won’t even let me leave the school because he doesn’t trust me. I’m sure you’re no different.” Shit that was supposed to be said in your head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’d smack yourself right now if it wouldn’t make you look stupid, if he wasn’t in your room still.

“So you think everyone’s the same?” He asks, more of a statement.

“No I- I don’t mean it like that. I just-” He clears his throat.

“Come here.” He demands, looking into your fucking soul. So of course, with a gaze as threatening as his. You stand right in front of him after you walk up to him like Bambi in a traffic headlight. Wobbly, and frozen. “Good, now look at me.” Oh, you forgot that part.

You looked away from his shirt, and tilted your head back to look up into his eyes and for a man who’s so adept at killing his eyes were so soft, and broken…

“If you didn’t randomly blank out, you would’ve also heard Xavier when he told you the only time you could leave, is if it’s with someone else in case there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency from what? Me losing my temper?”

“Exactly that.” Is what shuts you up. “When I said I know how you’re feeling, I meant it.” His voice softens, and you feel your throat knot as you hold back embarrassing tears. “It wasn’t easy for me to make friends either, but honestly I prefer to be in a small crowd. Normally I’m not the one to comfort a student, but you just don’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Why’s that?”

“I’ve tried talking to people. They just give me a look and then walk away.”

“Does that actually happen? Or is that just what it feels like?”

Shit. You hate to admit it, but he makes a point.

What the fuck. Was your next thought as his hand moved up and he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“I know you hate everyone at this school from the fucking bottom of your heart, but I’m gonna have you try to refrain from hating me. We can strike a deal by letting me take you out of the mansion. I’m sure you’d love to get out, can’t remember the last time you left.”

“Never have.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your voice is only quiet so your tears aren’t cascading down your face.

“Well if you can just promise to behave, and tell me when you’re getting stressed, then I’ll supervise you like Xavier wants.” He tells you, promising some sort of freedom. “I’m not saying I’m scared of you. If anyone is scared of what you can do, it’s you. Am I right?” You nod. “Use your words, bub.”

“Yea…” Your voice cracks as you barely mutter an entire word.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly, then he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ve got you.” He gently rubs your back, which by the way is still bare since you never got to throw on another shirt. “Just cancel your plans with Hank, I can help you more than he ever will…”

He promises. His fingers gently run over the metal clasps on the back of your bra as you loosely wrap your arms around him, embracing his hug and you nod, not able to formulate any more words as you cry quietly against his chest, your tears wetting his shirt as you both stand there in silence. A quiet smirk on his face as he holds onto you…

[aronarchy]

Why we don’t like it when children hit us back

To all the children who have ever been told to “respect” someone that hated them.

March 21, 2023

Even those of us that are disturbed by the thought of how widespread corporal punishment still is in all ranks of society are uncomfortable at the idea of a child defending themself using violence against their oppressors and abusers. A child who hits back proves that the adults “were right all along,” that their violence was justified. Even as they would cheer an adult victim for defending themself fiercely.

Even those “child rights advocates” imagine the right child victim as one who takes it without ever stopping to love “its” owners. Tear-stained and afraid, the child is too innocent to be hit in a guilt-free manner. No one likes to imagine the Brat as Victim—the child who does, according to adultist logic, deserve being hit, because they follow their desires, because they walk the world with their head high, because they talk back, because they are loud, because they are unapologetically here, and resistant to being cast in the role of guest of a world that is just not made for them.

If we are against corporal punishment, the brat is our gotcha, the proof that it is actually not that much of an injustice. The brat unsettles us, so much that the “bad seed” is a stock character in horror, a genre that is much permeated by the adult gaze (defined as “the way children are viewed, represented and portrayed by adults; and finally society’s conception of children and the way this is perpetuated within institutions, and inherent in all interactions with children”), where the adult fear for the subversion of the structures that keep children under control is very much represented.

It might be very well true that the Brat has something unnatural and sinister about them in this world, as they are at constant war with everything that has ever been created, since everything that has been created has been built with the purpose of subjugating them. This is why it feels unnatural to watch a child hitting back instead of cowering. We feel like it’s not right. We feel like history is staring back at us, and all the horror we felt at any rebel and wayward child who has ever lived, we are feeling right now for that reject of the construct of “childhood innocence.” The child who hits back is at such clash with our construction of childhood because we defined violence in all of its forms as the province of the adult, especially the adult in authority.

The adult has an explicit sanction by the state to do violence to the child, while the child has both a social and legal prohibition to even think of defending themself with their fists. Legislation such as “parent-child tort immunity” makes this clear. The adult’s designed place is as the one who hits, and has a right and even an encouragement to do so, the one who acts, as the person. The child’s designed place is as the one who gets hit, and has an obligation to accept that, as the one who suffers acts, as the object. When a child forcibly breaks out of their place, they are reversing the supposed “natural order” in a radical way.

This is why, for the youth liberationist, there should be nothing more beautiful to witness that the child who snaps. We have an unique horror for parricide, and a terrible indifference at the 450 children murdered every year by their parents in just the USA, without even mentioning all the indirect suicides caused by parental abuse. As a Psychology Today article about so-called “parricide” puts it:

Unlike adults who kill their parents, teenagers become parricide offenders when conditions in the home are intolerable but their alternatives are limited. Unlike adults, kids cannot simply leave. The law has made it a crime for young people to run away. Juveniles who commit parricide usually do consider running away, but many do not know any place where they can seek refuge. Those who do run are generally picked up and returned home, or go back on their own: Surviving on the streets is hardly a realistic alternative for youths with meager financial resources, limited education, and few skills.

By far, the severely abused child is the most frequently encountered type of offender. According to Paul Mones, a Los Angeles attorney who specializes in defending adolescent parricide offenders, more than 90 percent have been abused by their parents. In-depth portraits of such youths have frequently shown that they killed because they could no longer tolerate conditions at home. These children were psychologically abused by one or both parents and often suffered physical, sexual, and verbal abuse as well—and witnessed it given to others in the household. They did not typically have histories of severe mental illness or of serious and extensive delinquent behavior. They were not criminally sophisticated. For them, the killings represented an act of desperation—the only way out of a family situation they could no longer endure.

- Heide, Why Kids Kill Parents, 1992.

Despite these being the most frequent conditions of “parricide,” it still brings unique disgust to think about it for most people. The sympathy extended to murdering parents is never extended even to the most desperate child, who chose to kill to not be killed. They chose to stop enduring silently, and that was their greatest crime; that is the crime of the child who hits back. Hell, children aren’t even supposed to talk back. They are not supposed to be anything but grateful for the miserable pieces of space that adults carve out in a world hostile to children for them to live following adult rules. It isn’t rare for children to notice the adult monopoly on violence and force when they interact with figures like teachers, and the way they use words like “respect.” In fact, this social dynamic has been noticed quite often:

Sometimes people use “respect” to mean “treating someone like a person” and sometimes they use “respect” to mean “treating someone like an authority” and sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say “if you won’t respect me I won’t respect you” and they mean “if you won’t treat me like an authority I won’t treat you like a person” and they think they’re being fair but they aren’t, and it’s not okay.

(https://soycrates.tumblr.com/post/115633137923/stimmyabby-sometimes-people-use-respect-to-mean)

But it has received almost no condemnation in the public eye. No voices have raised to contrast the adult monopoly on violence towards child bodies and child minds. No voices have raised to praise the child who hits back. Because they do deserve praise. Because the child who sets their foot down and says this belongs to me, even when it’s something like their own body that they are claiming, is committing one of the most serious crimes against adult society, who wants them dispossessed.

Sources:

“The Adult Gaze: a tool of control and oppression,” https://livingwithoutschool.com/2021/07/29/the-adult-gaze-a-tool-of-control-and-oppression

“Filicide,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Filicide

[moonastrogirl]

2024 Numerology

- Predictions/Tips

Credit @moonastrogirl

2024 is an 8 year. Karma will be served like no one has ever seen it. Power and money will be given to the right people who deserve it.

Number 8 is often associated with the infinity ♾️ symbol which means limitless, abundance but it’s wrong. It’s the symbol of the snake eating his own tail. It’s the symbol of karma which can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on past actions and karma laws.

Number 0 is the true symbol of infinity. It’s wholeness. It’s love. It’s true bliss and abundance. It’s joy and surprise combined. Everything has to come in a full cercle. To receive abundance someone gotta give back too. That’s why lot of millionaires and billionaires donate to charity or do charity galas etc. They know to multiple their money and gains they have to give back and create the full cercle energy.

Those with a prominent Saturn or Saturn ruled placements in their chart/Saturn aspecting personal planets in their birth chart or with a prominent 8 energy in their numerology chart will understand what it truly means and how the smallest action can impact someone.

Power, connections and money will be taken away from abusive people who were using others, gossiping, spreading rumours, lying etc. Divine justice will be served. Honest , generous, loving people will receive their flowers and more.

The scales ⚖️ of divine justice are bringing back true equilibrium.

Those who went through it, true givers and generous people will receive if they are willing to receive. Takers will lose everything if they are not willing to give. People who were made fun of or put down by society for what they do even if they don’t harm anyone (prostitues for instance) will receive plenty and fast. Victims of circumstances, of violence, of abuse will also receive what they need.

Again it’s based on the willingness to receive and give back.

This energy is already being felt for weeks now : karma is here. She serves and delivers like no one. Already conspiring and bringing powerful people down (P Diddy - Cassie case).

Releasing bad karma, bad habits, lies (even white lies) is key 🔑 to receive blessings. It’s best to proactively go get yours blessings, they won’t just come to you. Work hard and smart.

Be willing to release and receive, give back and have faith.

Wishing you and myself peace, love, blessings and abundance for 2024 and may the scales of divine justice be in our favours 💫

Thank you for reading me and if this post resonates with you, please feel free to like, comment or reblog 💜

Credit @moonastrogirl

[ineffably-human]

We're going to scream about Nandermo all week, but right now I need to talk about Baron Afanas. Because the Baron's arc, so to speak, always felt like a big part of the series DNA for me - and oh fuck did this episode deliver on why.

I think we can agree: in the show, vampire society is fucked up, right?

Vampires on their own have plenty to deal with that can make them crazy. They have to live by killing. They lose everyone from their old lives. They have to find new reasons to keep going on, forever, so shit can get decadent really fast.

But holy shit, what that's turned into in vampire society? Where you actively put cruelty over mercy, and violence over solving your problems? Death cults and scam artists roam free, but if someone has depression the best thing to do is ignore them. Someone can get their mind wiped or be locked up for centuries, and that's just what you do to your species.

--

So: the Baron's arrival is the first conflict of the whole show. The joke is about an ancient powerful creature of pants-shitting terror, vs three lesser vampires who just want to live their lives and not get murdered for being too lazy to conquer humanity. There's a lot of talk about how to please him: do you keep to the old ways, or pick up some new traditions? Decorate with flayed skin, or with glitter? And the Baron says: who cares, you're all soft and useless. All that matters is getting more control over this world, until people are cattle and we have no reason to hide anymore.

But later he confesses: that shit stopped mattering ages ago. He's not even real nobility, he's literally impotent, and he talks about doing horrible things because he doesn't know what else to say. He's angry and half-crazy from boredom. And admitting that, owning those feelings, means suddenly he has three new friends and a whole new world of things to enjoy.

There's the Baron the rest of the vampire world knows, but for one night we see the ancient, unknowable terror was just a guy. Maybe he's always been just some guy.

That fun puts him in a vulnerable position, and he's killed by the most unwitting vampire slayer in fiction. But Baron Afanas is changed. He sucks dirt for a year and still comes out of it with a new lightness and joy to him. He saves the Sire, another ancient terrifying monster everyone was eager to kill or send away. They adopt the hellhound. They get cozy and give advice. They make popsicle stick houses and go on walks. They live.

And that seemed like the end of the story until last night - when the Baron suddenly felt like the butt of a joke everyone knew but him. Spurred on by someone else who feels lonely and ignored, the Baron felt vulnerable. And he snapped back to how he lived for centuries.

'What the hell are you all doing, enjoying yourselves? We're supposed to be unhappy. We're supposed to live centuries of unhappiness, bringing pain to everyone in our path, and we're definitely not supposed to cheer up our friend who's sad.'

--

Nobody liked the Baron before Guillermo killed him, not even other powerful vampires we meet; they saw the Baron as a crazy far beyond their own crazy. But this is also how vampire society values you. It's how they measure Nandor's worth when they think he's dead, too: how old and powerful you are, how much you've been able to conquer and kill.

Vampire pods are both cliquish and aren't expected to last in the first place. If someone dies, you literally paint them out of your lives and forget. Everything we see discourages feelings, sincerity, or even basic companionship. The only way to earn respect is to be cruel. The more cruel you are, the more powerful you are. The more powerful you are, the more feared you are - the lonelier you are, the crazier you are. It's practically designed to create the Baron, or worse.

But new vampires don't behave that way. And the vampires we follow in the show don't behave that way - because they have each other, because they've been encouraged to have each other, often by Guillermo. (Holy shit, Nadja saying maybe she'd be fine dying, and Nandor immediately asking if she's okay? Nothing changes in this house, except everything does. They're not going to almost lose one of their own ever again.)

The vampires in the heart of vampire culture never seem happy to be like this. It doesn't have to be like this.

--

The Baron doesn't become a tyrannical monster for long. Because he never actually was one - and because he spends two evenings and a fireball to the face, watching Nandor and Nadja fight for Guillermo. Watching them plead and cling and defy, seeing Guillermo's earnest feelings in spite of his bloodline and the mistakes he's made. Seeing Nandor's perfect trust, and then his grief, the way he insists that Guillermo was never 'just' anything. The Baron can't find real fulfillment in hurting someone (because that ship sailed ages ago). He can't deride them for caring, because he's cared for a long time now.

And when the Baron admits that's who he is, when he says it out loud, he only gains more in his life. He finds new depth in the happiness he'd felt for a while now, because he's admitted and allowed himself to be happy. And now he has the children he's always wanted. Living together, the Baron and the Sire are still ancient and powerful - and they're also family, finding real joy together in a world that was ready to dispose of them.

"I suppose with the right company, it can be beautiful, this eternal existence."

--

There's an inherent selfishness to being a vampire, taking from someone else in order to live. But there doesn't have to be inherent cruelty, or lack of love.

They're all ready to admit they care. The Staten vampires have all cared for Guillermo or each other in their own ways this season. And Guillermo doesn't lack for flaws, but loving his monster family has never been one of them. (When he and Nandor work their shit out, they're gonna be insufferable.)

Now they just have to let the Guide in. Because she's absolutely starved for love, and vampires get pretty fucked up when they're on their own.

[valtsv]

I'm going thru ur angelverse tag rn cuz I'm writing a bit about computer angels and you've got a lot of neat stuff in there and it's got me curious abt what that's about. 🎤

so angelverse is this original fiction setting i made up for an rp server that no longer exists. i lost the server in the divorce but kept all the lore and worldbuilding i came up with for it. which was pretty much all of it. it's an urban fantasy/cosmic horror story set in a universe where angels are these powerful eldritch machine aliens whose species is in decline due to their dysfunctional, heavily militaristic society, near-perpetual conflict between various political factions within that society, a mass lack of purpose beyond warfare, and dwindling resources available for the continued propagation of the species.

the story mainly focuses on exiles from this shattered civilization; fallen angels banished to earth, usually for heinous crimes or extreme miscarriages of justice, and angels who were considered unfit for active duty due to personality or utility flaws and "reassigned" there under the pretense of some kind of nebulous greater purpose, but actually just abandoned for being weak links without the disgrace and ceremony of being officially exiled.

these malcontents, misfits, murderers and weapons of mass destruction, and how the people of planet earth interact with their presence, create most of the central conflicts that drive the story - death, rebirth, the horror of having a body, the existence of free will, machiavellian schemes, supernatural turf wars, epic love stories, bloody revenge tragedies, cycles of violence, and those who seek to break those oppressive, infinite loops - but the threat of the various powers of the republic of angels finally resolving their differences and turning their attention to the unresolved issue of their discarded toys, or being called to war once more, this time by the increasingly frustrated human population that has unwillingly hosted the angels' castoff scraps for the past few thousand years, remains an ever-present threat that hangs over all like a sword.

i already answered an ask where i linked all of the worldbuilding info documents before, so i'll just tack that on here in case you're interested in knowing more

[mapecl-stories]

Above the Clouds of Hope

"Mrs. Magnusen speaking, how can I assist you?" Mrs. Magnusen said into the receiver, listening to Lena's desperate voice.

Lena, with a trembling voice: "Please, help me! I'm in a terrible situation. My partner is becoming increasingly violent, and I don't know what to do anymore."

Mrs. Magnusen, empathetic: "Don't worry, Lena. I will do everything in my power to help you. First, we need to ensure you are safe. Do you already have a plan on how to separate from your partner?"

Lena, sobbing: "I'm scared to leave him. He's threatened to kill me if I go."

Mrs. Magnusen, determined: "This is a very difficult situation, and I understand your fears. But you are not alone. Together, we will find a way for you to protect yourself. I will connect you with a women's shelter near you, where you will be safe from your violent partner."

Lena, relieved: "Thank you so much, Mrs. Magnusen. I don't know how to thank you enough."

Mrs. Magnusen, encouraging: "Don't think about it, Lena. It's my duty and my passion to help women in your position. No one should have to endure violence in their relationship."

The next few days were tough for Mrs. Magnusen. She worked around the clock to organize the necessary support for Lena. Limited resources and bureaucracy presented obstacles, but she refused to be discouraged and continued to fight to free Lena from her dangerous situation.

Mrs. Magnusen, frustrated: "I'm sorry, Lena, but we are currently hitting our limits. Women's shelter spaces are limited, and we're having difficulty finding a long-term solution for you."

Lena, desperate: "What should I do? I can't go back to him, but I don't have any other option."

Mrs. Magnusen, determined: "We won't give up, Lena. I will continue to search for solutions and advocate for you to get the help you deserve. You are not alone."

It took some time, but eventually, Mrs. Magnusen managed to mobilize the necessary resources for Lena. She helped her start anew and embark on her journey of healing.

With flushed cheeks and a smile full of gratitude, Lena said, "Thank you, Mrs. Magnusen. You've shown me that there is hope, even in the darkest times."

Mrs. Magnusen, moved: "It's an honor, Lena. You found the courage to break free from this cycle of violence, and I am proud to have helped you."

The novella concludes with an appeal to the readers: "Let us together fight against domestic violence. Support counseling centers and advocate for a society where women can live free from violence. Because only together can we turn the spark of hope into a flame that dispels the darkness and illuminates those seeking help and protection."

[elbiotipo]

The thing is, Latin American identity is not something that began a couple years ago because we all think El Chavo del 8 is cool. It is born out of struggle. Conquest, genocide and slavery were the inheritance of the Iberian empires. The independent states had, and still have, to deal with neocolonialism and the remains of the racist elitist structures reinforced by eurocentrism, which are just getting dismantled at a great cost, with many setbacks. The history of Latinoamérica is not pretty. There is racism, there is genocide, slavery, oppression, and imperialism that still continues to this day.

Cinco siglos igual.

This is why the Latin American identity is based not only in shared culture, but a shared historical struggle against oppression. It's not only fiesta and carnaval and stuff, it's not all cultural exchange and utopian harmonious communities living in peace, it's also a shared consciousness of our place in the world, among the oppressed nations, the Third World. This is why people of so many different backgrounds consider themselves, and thus are, Latin American, which is a concept hard to grasp for Usamericans used to separate communities in discrete units, while our main identity as members of our many nations is this, Latin American. Some people identify more strongly with it, others don't, and everybody has different ideas on how to deal with this, but it is a pervasive "ghost" that hangs over our heads. The pain of the open veins, if you want to get all poetic.

So here we stand then, with our common identity shaped by a cycle of violence that continues to this day. The question that remains is: do we choose to continue it out of greed and negligence, or do we choose to join together in struggle to create a fair, just and free society for all of us? Se los dejo como tarea para la casa.

[kitasgloves]

In My Room

tracklist

— ♬ "I hate that you leave when the lights come on. And if I had it my way, the fuckin' sun would be gone"

— ♬ Nikolai Gogol x ghost! Reader, SFW, female reader, graphic depictions of animal death, violence, and murder, the reader is dead (but this doesn't count as necrophilia), and major character death, 3.7k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE NOR ROMANTISIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

One may get used to having loneliness as one's companion. The comfort and familiarity of isolation could drive the individual away from society and cause difficulty searching for human connections. It is the natural instinct of humans to linger amongst its kind and form a connection. A human has the freedom to create and destroy bonds with each other.

However, Nikolai Gogol was a different case. For a long time, he believed he was trapped in his own mind, a slave to his emotions. He felt like his mind was stuck in a cage. He wondered if anyone shared that same experience. It was challenging to find someone to relate to. Nikolai has already accepted that he is different, but he wants to think that he isn't the only one. There must be a unique soul out there who shares the same sentiment as he.

Nikolai never bothered fitting in society knowing that it was no use, so he focuses on finding a way to free himself from his own emotions. Nikolai strives to find true liberty. There are instances where he has met a few people who came close to understanding his philosophy, the experience was refreshing but temporary. Even if someone did truly understand him and his ideas, it wouldn't be enough for them to stay.

For a short period, he was content with that. He learned to find contentment in his loneliness. Nikolai has accepted that he shall be alone. He has grown to be envious of people who are oblivious and ignorant to the choking feeling of emotions, he wanted to know what it feels like to be free from the cage of his mind. Nikolai wore his grin as a mask to conceal his increasing desolation. To keep everything he felt within him as a secret was torturous. 

A life of crime seems the most fitting for Nikolai. He doesn't find the appeal of being an outstanding and decent citizen who participates in society. It's so dull! Nikolai finds fragments of freedom through the acts of crime. He believes that he is proving to everyone he will never be a slave to the standards of society. Nikolai thinks that someday he will be as free as a bird, flying carelessly in the sky. 

But the conquest for liberty has taken a mental toll on him. Nikolai feels unable to function with how much the loneliness is weighing him down. Loneliness is misery, some have said. But Nikolai thought through isolation he would seek the freedom he had thirsted for. But was he wrong all along? Was everything senseless? And will he be forever trapped in this cage?

Tap, tap, tap

That sound was unique. It was unexpected. Nikolai by chance glanced to his bedroom window at night to see a dark female silhouette with glowing orbs. No fear, shock, or surprise rose within him that night. Nikolai stared at the finger tapping on his window. Curiosity has led him to creep towards the window for a proper look.

There you were: a ghastly woman with dry and pale skin, dressed bloodily in black, and smiling crookedly at him from the other side of the glass. For the first time in a long while, Nikolai's heart stirred. You were so beautiful that he couldn't help but open his window to invite you in.

Nikolai's breath hitched and watched with anticipation as you crawled towards him. He realized how rotten your skin looked and how your joints were out of proportion. Your bones peeked through your rotten skin and yet Nikolai finds himself enamored. You stiffly faced him as your bones cracked with the tilt of your head. He stares at you with glistening eyes as he takes in your dreadful features.

"Hello there"

He greets you breathlessly, and you send him a puzzled look. You have cornered Nikolai to his bed as you crept on above him. Nikolai doesn't get annoyed by your lack of speech but instead reaches carefully toward your cold cheek. His heart leaped when you leaned into his touch.

"You're pretty for a dead thing"

He remarks with a laugh. You gaze at him unblinkingly with dried eyeballs that nearly rolled out of their sockets.

"You...you think I'm pretty?"

You spoke with a quiet and raspy tone. Nikolai nods and this causes you to smile at him for the first time. He could never forget that moment. To have witnessed your demonic smile has aroused an emotion within him that he thought never existed. That evening, in his room, you stayed and talked until the sun rose. You left before any light could grace the sky. He couldn't understand where you came from, but Nikolai finds himself torn to see you leave. But you shook your head with a bloody grin and his face lights up for he knows you will return again tonight.

Tap, tap, tap

"Are you going to let me in? Hello? Hello?"

You called for Nikolai on the other side of the window the following night. He excitedly leaped from his bed and hurriedly went to unlock his window. You came crawling into his arms as he carried you to his bed. You looked so fucking gorgeous sprawled on the mattress that it evokes a strong emotion in him.

2:45 and the bell went off, thank God. Many people he's odd. But he talks with no one, and he walks alone. And he avoids sunlight with a chalky tone. Nikolai gets home and he doesn't say hi, it ain't nobody there. He doesn't care, he walks in and go right up the stairs, to his room, get in bed, and just for dark. Because that's when the real show starts.

Tap, tap on the glass go the piece of ass. So young and pretty, it's too bad you passed. But you come to his room and you and him would talk at night. You're demonic and bloody but you hold him tight. In his bedroom, with you, he's never alone. And he'd kiss your cold lips until the morning comes. Then you're gone, he can still hear your voice loom. But you only exist in the dark of his room.

Nikolai can't ignore you, when you'd tap on his window and gaze at him with your glowing dead eyes, begging to be let in in his room. He'd do anything for you. The only thing that soothes his aching loneliness is the sound of your tapping. Nikolai does adore you. He finds it impossible not to. The way you crookedly smile at him, the way your cold fingers caressed his cheek, and the way your chilling kisses set his heart ablaze. Nikolai believed he had encountered the gates of heaven in his room, with you and him.

Nikolai can't ignore you, now that you've carved your place in his life by crawling into his room. He'd do anything for you. He'd give anything for you to look at him with adoration through your dry eyes, to hold him in your bony and cold arms. Nikolai does adore you. He is unfazed by your disturbing beauty, the charm you exhibit in a macabre fashion, and how death could never defeat your grace. This is how Nikolai spent the rest of his days, in his room, with you and him.

Nikolai tries to smile a lot but he's always fronting. But he does love a ghost and at least that's something. You don't talk much and when you do, it gets cold. Usually, you and he just lay there, where you two hold each other. Nikolai and you were lovers, you and he don't need others. One of the stray cats jumped up on the covers, and it scared you because you don't like pets. So, Nikolai twisted its fucking head off its neck.

"Look baby, it's bloody, it's gone, it's doomed"

Nikolai tries to comfort you, but you've leaped off of the bedsheets in fright. He felt his chest grow tight with ache at the sight of your quivering figure retreating towards the window. He rushes after you.

"Please! Come back to the room"

He pleads and merely panics when you begin to slowly slide open the window. Nikolai nearly sinks down to his knees, unable to bear to see you leave.

"I'll do anything for thee, don't ignore me"

This is more than a sick love story, Nikolai is convinced. His head spins as he thinks of ways to make you stay in his room. He feels as though he will have a fit if you decide to leave him. Nikolai will reach unreachable lengths for you. He will do the unthinkable. He will go far just to have you near. Without you, he'd bring a shotgun to a school. And he will if you want to, for any reason.

You were motionless by the windowsill facing away from him, it seemed as though you were contemplating. Nikolai rushes to take your hand, he places his cheek against your freezing palm as he gazes longingly at you. Your head turns stiffly to face him, relief floods him when he can't find any trace of fright from earlier. Unfortunately, he spots the sun rising on the horizon. Nikolai hides his irritation with a grit of his teeth. But you spared him an apologetic look with your unblinking eyes.

"I hate that you leave when the lights come on. And if I had it my way, the fuckin' sun would be gone"

Nikolai says as he feels you freeze after. His heart raced at your blank reaction. He couldn't tell what you were thinking. Were you disturbed? Disgusted? However, you didn't pull your hand away from his cheek as you gave him a twisted smile that eased his fears. As you vanished within the start of dawn, he felt gladness flood his heart as you waited for your return later.

Nikolai can't ignore you, and it wasn't just the tapping on his window. He couldn't ignore the thoughts of you occupying his head no matter what he did. He would do anything for you. Just simply ask him and he shall obey. Nikolai does adore you. His heart beats for you for he has managed to find someone for himself that wasn't part of society. He truly thought how fitting it was to adore a dead woman like you, free from life's grasp of expectations. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai has discovered something better than freedom.

Nikolai can't ignore you; it would be a sin to do so. He would do anything for you, there is nothing he wouldn't do for you. Nikolai does adore you. He adored you the way a devotee worships their god. He loved you as much as tragedy loved death. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai has begun to spiral out of control.

Sometimes when he kisses you, he starts shaking. You slip him the tongue and it tastes like bacon. Uh-oh, something is wrong, you were upset. Nikolai was alarmed since you rarely behaved this way. He immediately starts to soothe you and ask what is wrong. You told him you were spotted by the neighbor's kid. You can't come back now because they know your and his secret. Unless he can make them keep it. If he does, you might come back to life.

Nikolai nearly bursts into a frenzy at your admission. All his thoughts come to a screeching halt as he looks at you with a dangerous glint in his eye. He will be forever miserable if you were to leave permanently because that stupid neighbor's kid has found your secret with him. Nikolai was undeniably thrilled that he was unable to contain it when he heard the possibility of you coming back to life. As much as he adored you in death, to be the one to grant life back to you means you will be staying with him for eternity. With this prospect in mind, Nikolai has instantaneously orchestrated a plan.

Nikolai finds himself in the backyard of his neighbors with a shotgun and a knife. Cut the screen, he went in and found the kid. He blew a bowl of spaghetti on the side of his head. Then the daddy was next, running down the hall, he shredded his throat, and he was quick to fall. Nikolai tossed the Mossberg and grabbed the knife and started stabbing the shit out of his wife. He went home a bloody mess with a job well done. Nikolai washed up and waited for his baby to come.

Nikolai can't ignore you. All he could think about was you. He would do anything for you, what he had done to his neighbors was a testament to it. Nikolai adores you, in death and in life, he shall love you eternally. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai loses touch with his remaining sanity.

Nikolai can't ignore you, no matter what he did, you infested his head like a persistent parasite. He would do anything for you, he would do anything to keep his secret with you, so you'll return back to life and remain with him. Nikolai does adore you, his beloved in death, his missing half, his dearest lover. In his room, with you and him, Nikolai has lost touch with reality.

He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess. Nikolai waited two or three months, four months. Waiting for the tap, tap just for once. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

Nikolai feels his stomach drop, he barely got a sign from you that it's stressing him out. He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always.

"Where is she?"

He wondered. Nikolai can feel dread engulf him, is his cruelest fear coming true? No, it can't be. But you haven't shown yourself yet to comfort him. He waited and hated this.

"Why isn't she coming back?"

Nikolai pulled on the roots of his hair, he couldn't make sense of your disappearance. Hadn't he done what he was supposed to? He created a bloody mess. Nikolai waited two or three months, four months.

"I fucking killed those people!"

He yelled within his room. He curled his hands into fists as rage consumed him. He did what you asked but why aren't you returning? His head felt heavy with unanswered questions, but he was unwavering. Waiting for the tap, tap just for once.

"Where the fuck is she?!"

Nikolai gritted his teeth. He could no longer tell how many months have gone by since you stopped tapping on his window. He lost his ability to function properly as he remained in his room, holding on to the remnants of hope of your return. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

"Why isn't she coming back?"

He had sunk to his knees by the windowsill with anguish evident in his features. Nikolai didn't count the days that went by without food or rest. His eyes were glued to the window with each passing moment with his health and sanity further crumbling. He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always.

"I can't believe I did it!"

Nikolai laughed hysterically to himself. He ticked and twitched by the windowsill, clinging to those moments he shared with you. He was beginning to question if everything he experienced was real at all. Were you not real or have you left him for good? He couldn't locate the answer. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

"I killed them!"

He screamed in complete hysterics. His hair had grown all over his face as dust and grime settled on his clothes, and yet he stayed by the windowsill. Nikolai has found himself a slave again to his emotions, a bird stuck in his cage. His laughter echoed in his room. He waited two or three days, four days. Waiting for the tap, tap like always.

"Where is she?!"

Nikolai roared with rage. However, tears have finally trailed down his face. He collapses on his side as he still remains by the windowsill. Everything felt surreal, his suffering felt surreal. His torment in the hands of his emotions has brought him to the brink of insanity. But his devoted mind kept thinking about you. He waited and hated this. He created a bloody mess.

Tragedy has befallen Nikolai Gogol as he exhaled his last breath by the windowsill. He has perished from hunger and malnourishment and suffered from his own madness. In his room, his last thought was you and him.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[witchofthesouls]

I do think it's a good thing to point out: violence is always the answer to violence when it's the system that creates the violence.

Megatron in every continuity was right that it needed to be a violent overthrow because the upper castes would not listen and would not change.

The title of Prime is a god-king status above the caste system entirely, but it does beseech its own violence just by existing.

Even if Optimus is a good person, that doesn't erase the damage and cruelty Primes are apparently known for. He is patient and he is imperfect and the tragedy of it is, does he even know that he's changed? How much of the difference is he aware of from his time before the Maxtrix to what he's become as a direct result of it?

Skyquake said he'd never side with a Prime. Not that he'd never side with Optimus, or the Autobots, but A Prime. The idea. The symbol. The Decepticons are fighting to be free from the shackles of a lineage of god-kings endlessly creative in their cruelty who, by some irony, they are compelled to follow by the nature of the relic.

Ratchet is a very good example of the hypocrisy. He was medical- upper middle to upper caste- and in TFP, we know Iacon hoarded a lot of resources. We see his prejudice plain as day just from how he describes Orion Pax and Megatronous. Hell, I'd say he flat out hated Megatronous for teaching a young Orion to speak his mind. He doesn't understand the righteous anger that the gladiator carried, and I don't think he cared.

Tl;Dr: there's a reason the Decepticons are more appealing, honey, most people just don't want to think about it too hard

Uh, I don't know if you're new here, anon, but yeah? Keep on cooking!

I don't know if this is a response to the reblog from nukeli about shattered glass, but under my 'analysis' and 'tf headcanons' and 'gladiator soundwave' and 'cybertronian culture' tags, I do talk about the roles of violence and how it's cemented within Decepticon culture as well as the 'appropriate behaviors' of low-caste vs high-caste of the Golden Age, especially between Orion Pax and Megatron and how it essentially fucked them up after the disaster meeting. Plus, I have posts about the potential cultural damage caused by the Quintesson occupation on Cybertron since they were the ones to implement the caste system.

Ratchet is such a great example of the show's use of unreliable narrator and how he encompasses a higher-caste sensibilities, especially when you take in his background. Compared to Orion Pax, who literally bypassed all the regulations and went from uneducated bumpkin from the middle of nowhere to a cushy and prestigious position underneath Alpha Trion, Ratchet had the correct frame and went through the right channels, so he never had to deal with the kind of discrimination others would speak about. I think of him like that prideful, racist grandpa who the "but you're not like them" locked and loaded. There's a lot of those instances across the show, but I really enjoy it since it fleshes out the story and the character. Ratchet isn't subtle. Not at all. And no one calls him out on it, so it's super telling on what kind of society Golden Age Cybertron was.

Personally, I thought it was really interesting when Skyquake had said that, especially with how Aligned/TFP done the Thirteen since Megatron literally took his name from Megatronus Prime, the direct opponent of Prima, and had tried to legitimize the movement with the Primacy. That's how I read Megatron's demand since it was proof of real change, but there was no way the High Council was going to allow that. Instead, they decided to take advantage of Orion Pax as a way to break the Decepticon movement and send a message to everyone else. Orion wasn't meant to be a Prime. He was just a figurehead, a token of empty promises, until it went off the rails, and he actually unearthed the damn Matrix.

Going back to Skyquake, I guessed that the TFP!Decepticons do have devotees to outlawed sects along with atheists as Megatron has no issues with getting Primal Artifacts, even if he needs to commit corpse desecration to a Prime of the fucking Thirteen to use the Artifact. (Which is another wild event under that mech's belt. It's a good thing they don't have balls because nothing could carry his.) So Optimus was basically barking at the wrong tree. But a majority of the Decepticons would be like that since Optimus represents Prima's reflection of a Prime and civilization. That distinction is really important because after the death and exile of over half of the Thirteen Primes, very few were actually left to guide the fledgling societies. Each Prime represented different Aspects and Domains, so with none able to challenge Prima... is it really a huge surprise it went wayside?

Prima was the Firstborn and Eldest. He was literally the God-King as the Prime of Light. Megatronus Prime was the only one who could truly challenge him, but he laid down his weapons and chose self-exile, and with death of Solus and Liege Maximo, Onyx, Micronus, and Thirteen joining the Allspark to kickstart it, Nexus separating himself, and Quintus, Amalgamous, and Vector leaving... Alpha Trion and Alchemist weren't enough to stand against Prima, who had a vision on how Cybertron should be.

My point is that the Decepticons stood against Prima's Champion by fiercely declaring their own leader. Megatron would have been an uncrowned Prime, a call to return to the long past before city-states, or a symbol a future without them.

[fantastic-nonsense]

I wouldn't mind the heavy focus on warrior Amazons so much if they were allowed to be competent instead of just being used as red shirt cannon fodder. But it seems DC only hypes up the Amazons as deadly fighters so other characters can look more impressive when they take them down.

Oh and Happy New Year.

Happy New Year! Forgive me if I use your ask to talk about a piece of the Wonder Woman mythos I've wanted to discuss for some time, because your complaints offered me the perfect segue to write a nice, in-depth meta on it and I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

Honestly, I think a lot of people (both creatives and readers) either don't know, forget, or fundamentally misunderstand the nature of the Amazons' warrior status. So they often get reduced to "deadly warriors who strike first," "supposedly deadly but generally incompetent warriors when outside of their own books," or "militant man-haters" by a lot of people. None of which are true.

The Amazons are incredibly competent warriors and have been since Marston's first portrayal of them in the 1940s, so I don't inherently mind them being shown as such. However, where people get bogged down is insisting that they be shown as deadly and trigger-happy offensive fighters who are happy to strike first and hard, which fundamentally goes against the philosophy and thematic messaging built into Amazonian lore.

DC's Amazonia, lore-wise, is traditionally framed as an Aphrodite vs. Ares "peace and love vs. violence and war" story. In Marston's original rendition of the Amazon's backstory Aphrodite is not only their patron goddess but also their sole creator; it was only after Crisis on Infinite Earths and George Perez's long-overdue lore expansions that the rest of the goddesses became co-creators and co-patrons of the Amazons. Regardless, Ares and his domain are consistently invoked as what the Amazons don't want to be like or engage in. That behavior is the antithesis of what Amazons are supposed to be. This lore informs literally everything about how the Amazons view both their combat abilities and their duty to the goddesses.

The contemporary Amazons are, for the most part, women who died in terrible and traumatic ways at the hands of men (usually through domestic violence, murder, or as conquests of war). When the goddesses created the Amazons by reincarnating these women via the Well of Souls, they specifically charged them to become their champions. And what did these goddesses want? They explicitly wanted justice and protection for women in a violently patriarchial world. The Amazons being warriors is thus specifically tied to an understanding of necessary self-defense and protection (both of themselves and other women), not offense.

Which of course is what lands the Amazons on Themyscira in the first place: invoking the goddesses' ire by not obeying these commands after their rebellion against their enslavement by Heracles and his men crosses the line from the necessary battle to achieve their liberation into wanton violence and revenge:

"The battered Hippolyta prayed to her goddesses and found the courage and inspiration to free herself. Athena had reminded Hippolyta of the Amazons' purpose and mission—but not all of the Amazons remembered. Or cared. They yearned for vengeance. For retribution against those who violated them...and under Antiope, many found it." -Wonder Woman: Our Worlds at War (2001)

And as Hippolyta and Menalippe tell Antiope:

"No, Antiope. Never vengeance; never again!" /// "That is Ares' way, Antiope. We achieve no glory by embracing the Dark God's power!" -Wonder Woman (1987) #1

The Amazon way is promoting a society based on love, equality, truth, and peaceful conflict resolution, not vengeance and violent combat. It's a philosophy that defines Diana's mission in Man's World as an ambassador, teacher, and living example of her peoples' way of life:

Enraptured, they listen to her dissertation on equality between the sexes, tolerance, peaceful coexistence. Social Philosophy 101, Amazon Style. -Wonder Woman (1987) #170

Diana's gods-given mission was to spread the Amazonian ideals of conciliation—to give those living in the World of Man the proper tools to peacefully coexist with each other. It was her life's purpose to teach the possibilities of respect and love by being a living example of an upbringing founded in those ideals.

Truth-seeking, diplomacy, and peace are the Amazonian way of dealing with conflict, not violence. And when you are forced to engage in combat (and you should be prepared for that eventuality because sometimes it will happen), your goal should be self-defense and de-escalation, not offense and prolonging the conflict longer than necessary.

This is also, as an aside, why Diana (and specifically Diana in her capacity as Wonder Woman) does not usually carry offensive weapons like a sword and why her primary "weapons" are the Lasso of Truth and protective bracelets. She's the official representative of her peoples' culture and personally deeply believes in that cultural philosophy. Other Amazons have different views on the matter, including her mother, but Diana grew up completely separated from the World of Man and fully immersed in that belief system, which deeply informs how she views her mission as Wonder Woman.

Personally, I think many (but not all) of the problems re: depicting the Amazons in the modern era come from various writers attempting to solve contradictions that don't exist. They see "kickass trained warriors living peacefully on an island" and see that as a contradiction they have to solve: why do they train if they're pacifists? Why do they fight if they're peaceful? In reality, it's not a contradiction: their status as warriors and champions is specifically tied to self-defense and protection (both of themselves and others), but given the choice they don't want to have to take up arms to protect people because that goes against their fundamental cultural philosophy. Outsiders and meddlesome gods are the ones who force them to do that! What they want is for everyone to be treated with love, respect, and understanding so they don't have to!

And there's a lot of problematic elements built into the concept's execution, but this is the core thesis behind the split between Hippolyta's Themyscirans and Antiope's Bana-Mighdall. The Themysciran Amazons have had their fill of violence and war; they just want to live in peace. But a) they were specifically tasked with guarding Doom's Doorway when they were taken to the island, a duty which necessitates perfect combat readiness, and b) their history is littered with examples of people refusing to leave them alone. So they train, in case someone decides to take shots at them, but otherwise live in peaceful isolation. Meanwhile, the Banas looked at that same shared history and went "we need to take the fight to the outside world. Offense is the best defense, and the only way to protect ourselves and the other women of the world is to actively seek vengeance for the violence women face." So they chose to actively intervene in Man's World, fighting constant battles and exacting revenge for any women mistreated at the hands of men.

...which is also why Artemis was such a necessary and interesting addition to the Wonder Woman mythos (even if she's often handled...poorly), because she and Diana represent two diametrically opposed views of how to protect and represent both their cultures and the women of Man's World, but that's a rant for a different time.

Anyway, the Themysciran Amazons' martial pacifism as a cultural value isn't a contradiction; it's one way of looking at a history filled with violence and victimization and saying "no more." And it's a pretty subversive way of doing so, which (well-written) comics tend to note!

So yes, the "Amazons are warriors" mentality has always been there and has been solidly emphasized at various points throughout Wonder Woman's history, and it should be acknowledged and shown that they're all incredibly competent in battle when they're forced to engage in it. But the way in which it gets emphasized is what defines whether a writer has a solid understanding of the history and baggage that comes with depicting the Amazonian struggle and the socio-political issues embedded in their lore. And unfortunately...many writers just don't seem to get it.

[loves0phelia]

hi could you rewrite the scene in ep 6 season 2 where Electra (now y/n) and Matt kiss to not get caught by security but add your own twist please? :)))

Faking Kiss

Summery: After years you and Matt meet again during a mission?

Words: 3.1k

Warning: Spicy (not smut), violence, grammar mistakes.

A/N: Thank you for requesting i love this scene!

While girls your age were learning to ride bikes or learning how to count to one hundred you were taught how to take a punch. 

The people who had taken you from your family had taken away your childhood. You never got to dress up for Halloween, to go out and knock on people’s doors for candies. You never fell asleep to your mother singing you a lullaby. You never got to sit in a class along with other kids to learn.

You watch kids do all those things while you were perched on a roof with a sniper in hand. You dreamed of being like them. You needed to be free.

As you grew up you started gaining interest in law and justice so you stole books from local libraries while you were supposed to be on missions to kill and read, read and read again. You taught yourself everything you needed to know.

At the age of 17, you took the opportunity to run away. After reading various magazines about college and teenage life you created yourself a name, a life. Before that, all you were was a number amongst others.

During a mission, targeting a wealthy man, you removed the tracker in your neck, changed into civilian clothing, and stowed away your black leather suit in your backpack

Immediately after losing contact with you, the men you worked for began looking for you. For two years you stayed hidden, away from the radar, until at 19 you applied to college.

Since your escape, your once-short hair had grown long, your body changed, seamlessly blending you into society. With fake birth certificates, you became Y/N Y/L/N without any complications. Your fraud skills even secured you a spot at Columbia University in New York. Admittedly, it may have been risky, but you desired more than anything, to pursue law and justice, to help others unlike those who had disappointed you.

During college, you made your first friends. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. It was everything you ever dreamed of.

COLLEGE MEMORY

A very drunk guy with dirty blond hair laughed loudly as he swayed side to side with a white walking cane he held for support. 

“Watch out everybody! I'm blind, Matt Murdock!” he laughed, still walking like he had 5 shots of vodka in his system.

“Most people just say- Matt Murdock” The brunette who wore sunglasses, held his stomach as he laughed. 

“I look like most people?” he asked genuinely.

“I don't know, I can't see” The blind guy answered in a cocky way, proud of his joke.

“Well at the moment that might be a blessing, because I'm the only one who can see the beautiful girl in front of us”  That's what made you look up from your newly bought law book, that you had bought with your very own money. It was the first book you didn't steal from the library since you ran away and you were fascinated by it. 

“Oh?” The blind student stopped abruptly just like his friend had done.

“Hi,” The blond said, catching you off guard. Nobody had yet to try and talk to you on campus since school started about a month ago. 

You looked behind you to make sure he was talking to you and when you realized he was you answered his greetings. Your voice came out more like a whisper.

“Are you studying on a Saturday night?!” He yelled when he noticed the book on your knees that you were previously reading. You nodded and he gasped.

"Hey, Foggy, maybe we should give that a shot too," suggested the other, the extroverted one objected immediately.

“So beautiful lady, I'm Foggy and this boring one over here is Matt what's your name?” his eyebrows wiggled like gummy worms as he flirted making you giggle. 

You didn't know that Matt was starstruck by you. Your laugh, your scent and your aura were something right out of his dreams. 

You gave them your name and like you guys were friends for years, Foggy extended his hand down to you asking you to accompany them on a night of, and you quote, “mischievous adventures”

You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet before you guys started walking nowhere but everywhere at the same time.

As the night ended and the sun started waking, you walked to their dorm and when you entered, you watched Matt help Foggy into his bed like a toddler who had fallen asleep on the ride back home from the amusement park.

You chuckled as you watched him struggle, and a few minutes later, Matt and you quietly slipped out into the hallway.

“Hopefully we'll see you soon?” His hand brushed yours. You thought it was by accident but if only you knew how Matt had desperately tried to touch a part of your body all night. 

“Of course” Your smile was shy. You couldn't understand the strange fluttering feeling in your stomach as he looked at you. It was like something you had never experienced before.

After that night you three spent the integrality of the college year stuck together like glue. Every Saturday day was destined to hang out. Matt and you came so close to admitting your feelings but just as you were about to, they found you.

Freshly graduated, diploma in hand, you strode proudly toward the rendezvous point Foggy and Matt had designated. As you rounded the concrete wall outside, you spotted a car with tinted windows. Even though the car seemed inconspicuous, your heart sank as you noticed four men standing beside it. Locking eyes with one of them, a chill ran down your spine as the man pointed directly at you. Without hesitation, they all sprang into action, sprinting in your direction.

You dropped everything. Your diploma you were so proud of, your backpack with the books you had bought and your life.

END

Each passing year saw you found yourself in new cities or even countries, determined to evade their pursuit. But fate seemed to have other plans when you discovered yourself in Hell's Kitchen at the same time as them. Now, it was your chance to turn the tables and finally catch them.

You mapped out their plan and you found out they were organizing a gala to target parents with children they could steal and turn into their hit man.

You dressed up in the prettiest silk white dress you could find, your hair, now dyed in a different colour, was half up and half down curled and even though your features had changed a lot since your college years you applied makeup to make you unrecognizable.

You entered the gala with no problem. You were trained well you knew better than to get caught the first second.

Soft music and the clinking of champagne glasses rang in your head as you slipped away from the scene. You had to find out where they were keeping the children and you needed information. You knew exactly where to get it.

In a vault, in the boss's office. You would find the exact location.

You spotted a bodyguard, guarding the elevator as you made your way to it. You could have taken the stairs but you needed to be the least suspicious possible.

"Sorry, ma'am, but upstairs is off-limits, restricted area," he informed you, eyeing you up and down, prompting you to fake a pout in response.

“Ugh, the bathroom downstairs is all taken and I have to fix my lipstick, really bad” You crossed your arm under your chest purposely putting on display your breast.

You smirked when his eyes shifted to take a look.

“If it's just for lipstick I guess I can make an exception.” 

"Seriously? You're an angel," you beamed, giving his arms a playful rub as he obligingly pressed the floor button. With a ding, the doors slid open, allowing you to step inside. As the doors closed behind you, a smirk crept onto your face. It was too easy, as always. 

Now on the upper floor, you began looking everywhere for what could be the main office.

Your heels echoed loudly on the floor, earning a frustrated groan from you. Why did they have to be so loud?

You tried walking more discreetly until you bumped into a muscular body. The impact made your hair fall in front of your eyes, shielding your vision. His hands grabbed your forearms and before you could try to beat the man you were pushed against the wall in a dark hallway.

As his hand loosened, you quickly pushed your hair out of your face. Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognized the man you had bumped into.

“Matt?” You barely finished the word before his hand was on your mouth preventing you from uttering another word.

“Someone is coming” You stopped mumbling beneath his hand to be let free after he whispered in your ear. Everything was so silent you thought he was crazy until you heard the faint sound of boots approaching.

The guard paced down the dim hallway, clutching his weapon tightly, while you and Matt stood in the shadows. After he passed, you exhaled in relief as Matt gently released his hand from your lips.

“Matt,” you said, dumbfounded. Between all the people you could've run into it had to be him. The guy who you left behind without any explanation.

“You shouldn't be here y/n, it's dangerous,”  He said and your brows furrowed. How had he recognized you? 

“How did you know it's me?” you asked and he shook his head.

“It doesn't matter, you need to leave. These people who organized this gala are bad.” 

“I know Matt, I'm here to stop them” You admitted it wasn't time to come up with a lie. Even behind his glasses, you could see the confusion etched on his face.

“How did you know about them?”

“Why are you here?” You both speak over each other and before you could let him talk again his head snapped to the side, listening to something you couldn't hear.

“One of the guards is talking about you”

“How do you know that-” he shushed you and continued.

“He says you went to apply your lipstick but never came down?” he said, making you groan, you had taken too much time talking with him.

“It's a dumb excuse I used to get up here. Now if you would excuse me I have something to do” You pushed him gently out of your way and went to walk out of the hallway he had pulled you into. His hand quickly grabbed on to your arm again tugging you back.

"You follow me," he growled into your ear and then started walking. You couldn't quite explain why you trusted a blind man to lead you, but you did.

Almost like he knew exactly what you were looking for, he pushed open the door to the main office you were targeting. Flipping the light switch, the room flooded with brightness, light bouncing off mirrors to create an almost blinding effect.

You began opening every door, every drawer looking for the piece of information you needed. But you saw no signs of a vault or anything of the sort. You grabbed your hair in frustration. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“Information where the kids they have captive might be. It was supposed to be in a vault in this exact room but I can't find anything”

“How do you know about the kids” 

“Because I was one of them” he listened to your heartbeat, he knew you weren't lying.

He wanted to ask more questions but he knew it wasn't the right time. You were running out of time, not gaining.

As he concentrated on the beat of your heart a harsh buzzing interfered with the soft sound.

He walked and touched the bookshelf with his fingers. He could hear the electricity travelling in the walls. 

He felt an interruption in the current when his finger grazed an old Shakespeare book. He pulled it down, and a secret door revealed itself.

“Holy shit, how did you know?” you smiled and walked into the tiny space the door that previously opened allowed you to walk in.

“I could hear the signal”

“Through the walls?”

"I can hear a lot of things. Look in this drawer," he directed, saving you the trouble of opening every single one by pointing you to the correct drawer.

 The paper with all the information you needed was on top of the files and books. Not very well hidden.

“We have to go, now” You folded the paper and quickly shoved it inside your bra.

You both ran in the main hallway but before you could get to the elevator an alarm started blaring and blue lights flashed. Matt grabbed your hand and dragged you to an empty conference room and through the frosted glass you could see multiple shadows with guns searching for you.

“You have to stay behind me okay? I don't want you to get hurt” You say before tying your hair up. 

"Oh, I know how to fight, sweetheart," he declared just before the men barged into the room where you were hiding. Without hesitation, Matt slid over the table and delivered a kick to one of them in the face.

Impressed but confused you had a sudden surge of energy, you sprang into action, fists flying and they clashed into jaws and noses. The room echoed with the sound of impact as yours and Matt’s strikes landed with an intense force.

Your movements were fluid and precise as you used your kicks and punches against the attackers. You and Matt fought as one, your movements synchronized almost perfectly.

And when the last men fell, defeated and broken, you both stood almost unarmed. But not for long.

you ran to the next level almost getting caught once again. However, you managed to hide again in another room. That's when the idea came to you.

“Kiss me” you whispered as you started to pull down your hair from your ponytail, making them cascade messily down your back.

"What?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he struggled to process what you said. 

"Kiss me, Matt, please," you pleaded. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his own. 

As you kissed, you instinctively reached for his tie and pulled it. Your hands unbuttoned his shirt and you whispered against his lips.

“Act like we're having sex and act drunk” his lips went to your neck and his tongue laid against your pulse. You moaned loudly, exaggerating it a little.  Without needing to say anything his hand gripped your waist and lifted you on the table you were leaning on. His hands went higher and higher until he was pulling down the straps of your dress. At the same time, you lifted your leg and put it around his hip and his free hand grabbed it and squeezed the skin. His mouth came back to yours and he kissed you until you couldn't breathe.

You let out another moan of his name when the guards entered and put you both at gunpoint. 

“Don't move!” he yelled.

You and Matt put on a show of surprise. Giggling, you swayed on your feet, mimicking the unsteady movements of someone who had too much to drink.

“We are so sorry,” Matt said out of breath and tried buttoning his white shirt.

“We thought we could sneak in here… we'll be right out of here” he laughed before turning and the man grabbed his collar and pushed him roughly. Your heart rate elevated when you saw this.

“Be careful with him!” You said as you tried to wipe the red stain of lipstick that had smudged on your chin.

As the man restrained Matt, he aimed his flashlight directly at his unseeing eyes, prompting an eye roll from Matt that spoke volumes.

 Meanwhile, the second guard firmly gripped your arm, holding you in place. With a nod, the guard said in his walkie-talkie that the situation was under control and that neither you nor Matt was a threat.

“You need to leave,” he said and Matt continued apologizing before earning a firm “ Now!” from the man.

You grabbed his hand and walked away from them with a small laugh. You both walked to the now working elevator and entered with nothing opposing, 

“I don't know what you are Matt Murdock but you're not human” You laughed when the door closed. “You can hear through walls and fight while also being blind?” You heard him snort after you finished your sentence.

"We have a lot to talk about," Matt murmured as the doors of the elevator opened, lacing your hands and sharing a light-hearted chuckle at the absurdity of the evening. You both walked out of the Gala.

Making your way to your car, you glanced at Matt, wordlessly telling him your desire for him to join you. Without a word, he understood, falling into step beside you as you unlocked the car door.

You settled into the driver's seat, and he quietly took his place beside you. A moment of comfortable silence passed before you broke it with a teasing tone.

"Are you going to tell me how you did all that?" 

He met your gaze, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you going to tell me why you disappeared?"

 "If you spill your secrets first." you shrugged.

 "Fine, I'm Daredevil," he confessed.

 "What?!" your eyes grew three sizes and he simply nodded.

“I have so many questions,” you said as you wondered,

“Your turn” he grinned.

"Remember I told you those men raised me as a child earlier?" you began, your voice trembling a little. "Well, I ran away, and on the day of graduation because they found me. I had to leave everything behind. I loved you guys so much, Matt. I never wanted to leave, but I didn't have a choice."

With each word you spoke, he could feel the sincerity in your voice, and not once did your heart falter or deceive.

His hand grabbed yours for the millionth time that night.

"I was so lost without you," Matt confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Me too," you replied softly. 

"I don't want to lose you again," Matt admitted, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

You intertwined your fingers in a silent promise. "You won't," you assured him.

At that moment, as you sat together in the car, you knew that you had overcome the past. Nothing would separate you and Matt. If anyone or anything tried to pull you apart you would fight it together.