#it’s so nice to be out of that abusive household I was in for 21 years

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #21)

FEB21: True Compliment

TW: very vague, brief mention of non-MC child verbal abuse and student advocacy

Your work had been truly awful lately. A student was trying to escape a situation involving verbal abuse, and the school that they attended had never handled a case like this before. It was a small community, and while you were trying your best to be patient, you really needed the documents to be processed emergently in order to get resources to the student and their family members. 

You had been on the phone all afternoon, pressing for urgency. Then, finally, you were told that you could come pick up the documents from the district the next morning, so you hung up, exhausted. 

John had been working as well, but he was running around and doing all of the household tasks on your behalf, making sure you could focus on your case. He brought you lunch, coffee, and dinner, and he even pulled out the massage oil and offered to give you a rub down as soon as you were finished with the report. 

“Really, John?” You beamed, tired though you were, “That would be so nice. Thank you.”

“Lay down, pretty girl. Let me take care of you for a change,” he said as he warmed the oil up in his hands. 

You stripped for him, laying across the bed where he had put down a soft towel. 

He started at your shoulders, gentle at first, warming your skin and feeling the tension in your muscles.

“Such a hard worker. I love watching you fight for your students, love. You’re like a damn tiger.”

“Someone has to be,” you sighed, feeling him run his hands down your sides, petting the stress away.

“Do you need me to come with you tomorrow?” John offered. 

“That would be really kind of you. If you have time,” you agreed, but you didn’t want to burden him. It was a short drive, and you could handle it. It would be nice to spend the morning together, though. 

“It’s my pleasure, love.”

John focused on your lower back, and you felt the heat of his touch on such a sensitive area spread through your belly and into your core, exciting you as much as it relaxed you. 

You let out a low moan, and he chuckled,

“You make the most gorgeous sounds, pretty girl. One moan and you’ve already got me achin’ for you.”

You sighed, smiling at his compliment, 

“You’re the one who makes me sound like this, John. Mmm, it’s those huge hands of yours. So strong, but so gentle with me.”

He used his hands to press and roll the aches out of your back, and then, indulgently, he moved lower and began to massage your ass cheeks. It actually felt incredibly relaxing, except it was making you incredibly turned on. Your body was turning into putty, becoming so pliant for him, and he could feel the way you melted from his touch. 

“Alright, love. Flip over.”

You looked up at him confused, 

“What?”

“Time to get the front,” he said, his face full of mischief. 

“John!” You gasped, laughing. But, you followed his command. 

He didn’t touch you at first. Instead, he knelt down and leveled his gaze with yours, bringing his face to your level as you lay on the bed. 

“I meant what I said, love,” he put his hand on your neck and rubbed his thumb across your jawline, petting you like something precious, “You are so brave. I admire your courage.”

You reached out for him, cupping his cheek, and brought him in for a soft kiss,

“Thank you, baby. That means a lot coming from you.”

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 21: Jameson's Threat

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, hypnosis, abusive language, dehumanization

"Oh, he's much too rich for me. I just wanted to take a look at him, see how the ultra-wealthy eat."

"It's nice to see such a high-quality thrall. I'll admit, I'm impressed."

"I think he'd be a bit wasted on me. The sort of thrall you only bring out when there's fancy company, if you catch my meaning."

"I'm always on the lookout for a thrall that can be trusted with household matters, and I think he'd get along well with my Daisy."

Oliver spent what seemed like an eternity being poked and examined and remarked upon by vampire after vampire, all dressed in their Sunday best (not that vampires, he supposed, went to church) and all eager to catch a glimpse of the marquee merchandise. He bowed and introduced himself and tried to make himself appealing and subservient, and every time he wavered even slightly, Miss Lily was there to quiet him. He couldn't count on Lord Alexander, and he had to be sold, or risk a worse fate. That much was more than clear to him.

He derived at least some small comfort by the fact that he was in such high demand. He'd never experienced anything like it, always being the sort of person who was small and quiet and overlooked, even as far back as grade school.

"So this garbage is what passes for a luxury thrall in this city?" The vampire was pale as a ghost, with watery brown eyes and an expensive looking suit.

Distress shot through Oliver at the growled question. "I'm -- I'm sorry, sir, if I've offended --"

"Ugh, the thing talks," he said with a look of utter disgust. "I don't know why they allow this at a high-end auction. I don't need my livestock begging for their lives."

"Many of the patrons of our auction are looking for thralls capable of handling household chores, so we always offer some with their minds intact," said Miss Lily, in a tone that didn't fully mask her annoyance. "You're welcome to look at some of our other offerings if you're interested in fully erased humans."

"All the erased here are low grade, barely fit for a gutter leech. I'm not paying good money for bad blood. I could just have this one erased after I buy him," said Lord Jameson.

No level of trance was going to keep Oliver from panicking at that. "Sir -- but --"

"Quiet," said Lord Jameson, and the word sank Oliver -- not like when Miss Lily did it, but like being pulled under quicksand, chest constricted, struggling to breathe. "You'll be erased, rendered mute and illiterate, and live in my pens, and you'll be grateful for it. Dumb cattle."

Oliver gasped for air, the room spinning around him. He thought he'd escaped that fate. He'd consoled himself that was going to end up a servant, not necessarily the life he would have chosen, but a tolerable one. He thought he'd avoided having his precious intelligence stolen from him, being turned into nothing more than an animal. He was a fool. He'd always be in that sort of danger as long as he lived among vampires.

His knees hurt. He realized the reason why a second later -- he'd hit them on the wooden floor as he'd collapsed.

"Lord Jameson, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from traumatizing the merchandise until you've paid for it!"

"As if he --"

Oliver's head was swimming. The voices around him became muffled. He felt as if he was outside his body, watching himself faint. Then everything went black.

"Oliver. Oliver!"

His eyes snapped open. Miss Lily was pulling him to a sitting position. He looked around frantically, but --

"I saw Lord Jameson out. He's gone," she said. "Damn him! You were doing so well."

"Is he --" said Oliver, coughing, his mouth dry. "Is he going to -- is he going to buy me, sir?"

"Here. Water," said Miss Lily, offering him a cup. She rubbed his back soothingly as he drank. "He may try. I can't promise you he won't. And he is rich. But there are others interested in buying you as well."

"I'm sorry, Miss Lily, but I don't want him to -- "

"I know. I understand. Take a deep breath for me, Oliver, and be quiet."

He did as she instructed and welcomed the blankness that invaded his mind.

"Oliver, dear, look at me," she said, and her fingers were fluttering in front of his face. "Watch. Back and forth. You're so tired. Sleepy. Watch my fingers. Making you sleepy," she said in a rapid patter. "Relax. Sleepy. Back and forth. Eyes are closing. Watch my fingers. Getting sleepy. Shut your eyes. Go to sleep."

The hypnotic commands overwhelmed Oliver's already overwhelmed mind, and his eyes fell shut, his head resting on Miss Lily's shoulder.

"That's it, Oliver. Just take a little nap and you'll feel so much better. Forget about what just happened. Let it grow hazy in your mind. Sleep and forget, dear, sleep and forget."

There wasn't any real comfort here, just a vampire hypnotizing him into complacency, but even an artificial peace was better than none. He allowed his thoughts to slip, the memory of what had just occurred to dull. He curled against Miss Lily, who patted his hair with a cold hand and whispered suggestions of sleep in his ear.

"Oliver, Oliver dear, are you feeling better now?" Miss Lily's voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "I have an old friend who wants to see you. Wake up."

He rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long he'd been out for. He was still in a showroom, Miss Lily holding the chain of his handcuffs, and he wasn't... quite... sure what had just happened, only that it had been awful.

Miss Lily helped him to his feet. "Thanks for waiting, Ruth. He's normally a doll, but we ran into a little trouble with Jameson."

"Oh, it's no trouble!" The nearby vampire was wearing a well-tailored suit and had a fashionable bob cut. "Jameson also makes me wish to curl up into a ball and die, so I fully understand." The two laughed.

Lord Jameson. Yes. That had been it. He had threatened Oliver with a fate far worse than death. Thanks to Miss Lily, it seemed further away, bearable. After all, Lord Jameson was only one of several people who were interested in buying him.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Oliver said, bowing to Miss Ruth.

"How polite and dapper," Miss Ruth said. "Let me take a good look at you." She took Oliver's chin and turned it back and forth, looked him deep in the eye, then grasped his arms to have him turn around in a circle, his ball gown swishing. "Fine stock. Excellent blood. And you say he has his intelligence still?"

"Yes, his mind is well-preserved, if I do say so myself," said Miss Lily. 

"Excellent." Miss Ruth had an odd gleam in her eye as she addressed Oliver. "I'm a lawyer, boy, and my thralls pull double duty as my clerks. If I buy you, I'll work you to the bone. Paperwork up to your neck, filing as far as the eye can see. You won't get that with any other vampire here. What do you think of that?"

So, effectively the opposite of Lord Jameson -- but the normal unappealing prospect of spending the rest of his life doing unpaid clerical work for a vampire seemed like paradise compared to having his mind wiped and living in an animal pen. "I'd be honored that you appreciate my intelligence, sir."

She nodded approvingly. "Good answer, boy. Let's see how well trained you are. Eyes on me. Name and date of birth."

"Oliver Pines, July 1, 1899, sir."

"What's the capital of Vermont, New York, Florida?"

"Montpelier, Albany, and uh -- Tallahassee. Sir."

"Three branches of the government."

"Legislative, executive, judicial, sir."

"Stand on one foot and hop three times."

He dutifully did so, thankful that he hadn't been given women's shoes to wear as his stockinged foot thumped on the floor. There was something strangely nice about being commanded like this, of having his simple obedience rewarded.

"Well done. Now go to sleep." She snapped near his ear, and Oliver was out like a light, caught in Miss Ruth's arms. "Awake." And he was up again, blinking.

"Yes, he'd do, he'd do quite well. I'm sure he'd easily pick up the training he needs," she said. "Shame about the price, but we'll see."

"I hope I can be of service to you, sir," said Oliver. Any option in the mix that reduced his chances of being purchased by Lord Jameson was fine by him.

Part 20 >> Masterlist >> Part 22

Thanks for reading this story of Oliver's distress.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @sl33py-pup @diamond-blade-blog @ivycloak @ladyjaye13 @irregular-book

[rededgerp]

Congratulations Koi! You’ve been accepted as your first choice of Karen Fukuhara (Marissa “Mari” Dai)! Please send in the account within the next 24 hours!

✖ ABOUT YOU 

↳ Name: Koi 

↳ Pronouns: they/them 

↳ Age: 24 

↳ Activity: Mostly active, I work from home so I have tons of free time :)

✖ ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER 

↳ Celebrity Desired: (Who you really, really want to play) Karen Fukuhara 

↳ Second Celebrity: (Should you not get your first character, this is who you’ll want to play) Rina Sawayama

↳ Character Name: (Also state if they’re related to anyone please) Marissa “Mari” Dai 

↳ Character’s Pronouns: She/her 

↳ Occupation: (Are they a teacher, bartender, actress, influencer, etc?) Bartender, although she hates it

↳ Birthday: (We need it for the Birthday Calendar) June 21 

↳ Background: mari grew up in a severely abusive household. at 18 she killed her parents, and got away with it — now bartending and keeping primarily to herself despite this, but desperately wanting some kind of connection despite the risk to her secret. 

↳ Para: (One to two paragraphs in character form of the character that you’re applying for. If you’re already in the group and this is your second, third or fourth character, then no para sample is needed.)the aquarium is a once a week visit. it’s the one piece of her world where everything can become quiet, for just a little bit. there might be something to be said about the lack of these kinds of things in childhood, or the presence of calm in a sea of chaos, but those kinds of thoughts don’t matter much to mari. at least, not here. not really, when there’s other things to focus on: like the steady breathing that feels as if it times along with the filters that hum underneath fluorescent lighting, or the dimmed darkness that trails along the outlines of tanks that tower over her, or him, who doesn’t need to be here, but is, anyway. ( only a few people in mari’s life have ever been to a place like this with her. even fewer that have stuck around, and so this space becomes a sanctuary. somewhere where looking over her shoulder doesn’t have to exist as presently, and somewhere where slowing down is just part of the culture. people stop, stare, and press their fingers against the glass to try to get one step closer to the world they’re so curious about. it’s almost like looking at people. watching others swim, while you drown. picking out the pieces you like, don’t like, and everything in between. wanting in some ways to be a part of it, and knowing in a much larger way that it does no good to dream about false realities. still, she tries. ) they’ve made their way from jellyfish, to sting rays, to the wide expanse of sharks. but mari saves the best for last, and her present company is more than smart enough to deduce that out.a smile flickers, faint as it flows forth. the exhibit in front of them is nestled in the back of the building, spanning from ceiling to floor, and widens itself into a picture-perfect image of life: coral flush against the sand, the sway of seaweed against the manufactured current, small schools of fish weaving their way between any larger ones. it’s a snapshot of the ocean, saved in a time capsule that allows mari to peer her way into what lurks under the waves. it’s the pièce de résistance, and anyone who says otherwise hardly would hold weight against the wonder most people feel upon seeing it.  ‘  it’s nice here. quiet.  '   her voice is soft. a gentle nod in the right direction, that points towards all her favorite things. she shifts, backing herself away from the exhibit to settle into a seat: a straight line of benches set along the back of the room, because this is the kind of place where staring is encouraged. the rules are different here, in this environment. her journal shifts onto her lap, pencil spun into her grasp with a slow twirl.   '  it’s … like a memory. n — not a memory that’s mine, but like looking into someone else’s. somewhere where you can pick apart all th — the pieces, but there’s always something new to find. a different fish, a new kind of coral, a fuckin —   '   a soft laugh.   '   — tipped over rock that wasn’t th — there before. seems dumb, but ..   '   a shrug, glancing down at the unopened journal.   '   feels real. objective, unlike everything else people watch.   '   there’s a pause, stilling.   '   never really l — liked tv. don’t give a shit about people to begin with, and all that fake happy ending stuff is nauseating. the world would probably be better off without the majority of the population, regardless.   '   bitter words contrast, a underlying awe surfacing as she focuses back onto the exhibit.   '   it’s not like that here. it’s just l — life. and not the shitty nine to five bullshit, but real life. no laws, no expectations. no people. just animal instinct, and what the world gave us.   ’ 

↳ Anything Else? (If there’s something about your character that we need to know please state it here. Did you read the rules?) she has a stutter <3 and is kind of a bitter manipulative bitch<3 but also loves fish and animals and is a wildly talented liar and also a wonderful artist. <3 also yes i did read the rules ^-^!!

[asktobyr]

moving

We moved in we are safe now ❤️ Thank you to anyone that helped 

[spinningintheshadows]

Building a Life with JJ

You weren’t exactly dating but y’know drinking can lead to all sorts of things.

Even though you’re scared shitless, you’re kind of glad it’s JJ that knocked you up in the end. 

Telling him though? You’d be shitting yourself.

“We’re 16 and 17! What do you mean you’re pregnant. Are you even sure it’s mine!” 

“Don’t be a fucking dumbass, JJ! You’re the only one I’ve not used a fucking condom with in the last 6 weeks! You’re the only one period!” 

JJ promptly has a panic attack as it sinks in.

“What if I’m like my dad” 

“You’re already a better dad than him” 

Agreeing to raise your child as friends.

Telling the other Pogues, watching John B and Pope get pale and Kie and Sarah dragging you away. 

Everything going smoothly during your pregnancy, despite the fact you just want a joint.

It’s a girl!! 

You have an emergency c section so JJ names your daughter: Isla Jo Maybank

Asking John B and Sarah to be her godparents

They say yes immediately.

JJ Maybank: Baby wearing champion.

The first year is rough(™) 

You’re going to school full time on top of being a full time parent. 

Even JJ decides to take school more seriously.

The one good thing is that JJ gets out of his abusive household and comes to live with you and your mom. 

Your mom babysits while you’re in school

She absolutely adores your daughter.

Isla’s first word is “Dada” much to your dismay and JJ’s delight. 

“Ha she likes me better!”

“No she doesn’t she just knows you’ll give in” 

Him taking her to the chateau to show off her babbling. 

Of course all of the Pogues are heart-eye-emoji over her. 

Isla is 11 months old when JJ comes into your room and tells you he wants to take you on a proper date. 

He makes you dress up and its super cute. 

For your 18th birthday, you walk in to him making pancakes with your daughter in her high chair squealing.

You and JJ graduating high school and your Mom is in the front row with your daughter and you get emotional. 

The next day your father shows up after dipping 15 years ago. 

Apparently he’s filthy stinkin’ rich?? And has been paying thousands in child support per month.

Your mom explaining she put it in an account for you so you could do bigger things than she did. 

Your dad being really angry about you having a kid with JJ.

“I don’t see why you’re mad, sir. At least I’ve never missed a day of my kids life. Thats more than you can say. Who held your daughters hand when her grandfather died? Or who would go to the corner store and get her whatever she was craving at 3:40 in the morning? Who has sat up every night your granddaughter has been sick and held her, or rocked her, or whatever needed to be done to comfort her. With all due respect sir, I’ve been in love with your daughter since I met her on our first day of 4th grade. Yeah maybe we skipped a couple steps but I wouldn’t trade my daughter for anything”

Your dad getting mad and storming off, telling you you were trash like your mother. 

You staring at JJ with tears in your eyes.

“You’re in love with me?”

“Of course I am, stupid.”

“Nerd.”

“But I’m your nerd.”

Isla never having to worry about if she was gonna have a roof over her head or food because JJ stayed home with her while you went to college and got a degree in business. 

You and Sarah opened a very successful boutique once you graduated. 

Being able to afford a nice house for the three of you by the time she started kindergarten. 

JJ crying like a baby when she starts school. 

“Where did our six pound baldy go.” 

“Kids grow up JJ.” 

“I don’t want her to grow up, I want her to go back to being our tiny baby.”

“Well why don’t we revisit this day in five years with number two.”

“What?!?”

You’d just smile and kiss him.

You telling him you’d found out a couple days before.

“You know, I love Isla, but I think I’m more relaxed about this one.”

“Well you know, that happens when you’re 21 and 22” 

“Let’s get married. Before the baby comes.” 

“Okay”

You get married on a pretty September Saturday afternoon. 

Kie and Sarah are your bridesmaids. Pope and John B are groomsmen

Isla is the cutest flower girl.

You both cry. 

“I’ve been waiting for this day since the first day of fourth grade.”

“That’s cheesy as hell.” 

“Well, Mrs. Maybank, get used to cheese.”

In ten years, you look back on your life while sitting with the girls while the guys are playing with the kids, four of them belonging to you. 

Sarah tells you you got lucky with such a beautiful family.

Kie agrees.

Between the three of you, there’s now nine children, ranging from 2 years to 15. 

“Hey guys how fast do you think JJ would pass out if I told him I was pregnant again?”

“Probably immediately.”

“I have to tell you something, this is just sparkling water.”

“You guys really like to not use protection huh.”

“I’m glad Pope got snipped after the second one.”

“Eh, I think we want one more.” 

“Oh I’m definitely done after five.” 

But you don’t stop with five but not by choice exactly

You see, JJ got snipped after number 5. 

You send a text to Sarah early one Sunday morning about 6 am.

“Tell me your husbands vasectomy didn’t work without telling me your husbands vasectomy didn’t work” 

It’s twins. 

JJ promptly has a panic attack, again.

“We were supposed to be done with the last one. And now you’re telling me we’re having two of them!?!?”

“Hey! We can handle five with three of them under 4, it’s fine. We did it before!”

“We’re old, babe! We did it when we were young spry children.”

“JJ, you’re 35”

“Exactly! Old!”

But you do make it, although you get weird looks at your daughter's high school graduation when you have toddlers with a high school graduate. 

Your old history teacher is the principal now, and he just shakes his head when he sees you. 

With seven kids, you look crazy but you’re still stupidly in love with the blonde boy you fell in love with 18 years ago. 

[mossdeep]

help us move out of transphobic house! 2!

paypal.me/swampert (friends and family please!)

tl;dr: i am buying a home so me and my partner can escape a transphobic and abusive household before january 1st, when we will be kicked out officially. i need help with the upfront costs, as well as paying off debts, buying appliances, and general household items to get started.

(10/12/2020) sorry for remaking this post so soon! the other post got a lot of notes, but donations came to a complete halt. some things have changed anyways, so this is an updated version! please reblog this one now!

hello! my name is dimitri! i am a 23 yo transman, and i live with my partner, who is 21 and nonbinary!

we are being kicked out of the house by january 1st because i went on hrt, but the good news is i was able to start the process of buying a home! where i live, rent is really high, but this mortgage will cost me less than renting an income assisted apartment!

to keep myself from going into debt, i need some help with the costs. i’m able to get help with the down payment, and my last post was able to secure me enough donations to cover the inspection ($325).

today i have to pay the escrow deposit of $1350, and that will drain half my savings. i would also like to be able to whittle down my credit card debt in preparation of having to pay a mortgage and utilities. after that, having a little extra cushion for a washer and dryer, as well as some furniture and home goods would be nice!

getting out of this abusive home will finally allow me and my partner to start recovering from the trauma it has caused, all i want is for my partner to feel safe and happy <3

if you want an alternative to donating, my partner @scolipede​ does commissions! please visit their blog for details!

any help is appreciated! reblogs, commissions, and even a dollar donation gets us closer to living a safe and happy life! dm me if you have any questions!

paypal.me/swampert (friends and family please!)

[ironwoman359]

This is probably not the best place to ask, but you’re also a Christian woman too. I was wondering what you thought about what the Bible says about women and how we must submit to husbands and some other stuff that has me (a potential ace) Christain woman kind of terrified. I would go to my church but social anxiety and my church is pretty conservative. I don’t want to think that we’re just second rate citizens with this. Um…that’s all. You don’t have to answer. Love your Tumblr. It’s one of the main ones I look at. Thanks for countless enjoyment!

— — —

(I’m responding on the submission and not the ask because the ask refused to post properly, I think it was too long for Tumblr’s fancy)

So I know you just asked for my thoughts and not a biblical interpretation lesson, but I didn’t spend 3 months writing an exegesis in college for me to never use those skills again, so buckle up for something of a long answer! (literally, this is almost 3 thousand words, so....sorry about that) *rubs hands together* The thing we need to take into consideration when reading the bible is Interpretation; any truly honest biblical scholar would tell you it is a mistake to take every word in the bible at its literal face value, ESPECIALLY since most of us are reading translations of scripture, not the original ancient hebrew/greek/aramaic/whatever else. So when interpreting scripture, we must consider these things:

Author (Who wrote it?)

Audience (Who was it written for?)

Context (What is written around it?)

So the verses you’re referencing are Ephesians 5:22-23, and in the NIV, they read as follows:

22 Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. 23 For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. 24 Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Isolated from author, audience, and context, they sound pretty sexist, don’t they? And male authority figures have used these verses as justification for the oppression of women for centuries, just as white men used the passage only a few verses away, Ephesians 6:5, as justification for the oppression and ownership of black people (Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ). So let’s look at each of the points above in regards to Ephesians 5 and 6. First, who wrote it? Sometimes that can be a tricky question to answer, but in this case, it’s actually very easy (though there is still a bit of fuzziness/debate). Traditionally, Ephesians is one of the Apostle Paul’s letters to the early church. Specifically, to the body of believers in Ephesus, a Greek city that was a part of the Roman Empire at the time. According to two different study bibles I have, the letter of Ephesians was not addressing any particular problem that the church in Ephesus had (as was often the case with Paul’s letters), but was meant as an encouragement of faith and to increase his readers’ understanding of what it meant to be a follower of Christ. So now what about the Context? Why are the verses at the end of chapter 5 and beginning of chapter 6 so damning to our modern sensibilities? To answer that, we must look at the passages both in context to the verses around them, and in historical and cultural context (which is where 1 & 2 come into play again). Going back to the beginning of chapter 4, which is subtitled “Unity in the Body of Christ” (and remember, these subtitles and groupings were come up with LONG after they were written; we grouped sections together in a way we thought was most logical, which honestly for a book as short as Ephesians I would argue is barely even necessary), we can see that the letter from chapter 4 onward is about living a Holy and Godly life. Chapter 4 urges us to be “completely humble and gentle, be patient, bearing with one another in love” and warns us against living “as the Gentiles* do, in the futility of their thinking.” *Gentiles in this case meaning not neccesarily all non-Jews, but non-believers. AKA, we should live like Jesus lived, WWJD and all that jazz. If the Holy Spirit is in our hearts and our relationship with God is at the forefront of our lives, then that should show clearly in our actions. The very first verse of chapter 5 reads “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Chapters 5 and 6 especially are meant to act as a sort of guide for how a follower of Christ should act. There’s some stuff about obscenity, greed, sexual impurity, 5:15 sums it up pretty well basically, “Be very careful, then, how you live- not as unwise but as wise,” and then we reach the all important verse. Ephesians 5:21, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” That’s a full sentence, just that there. Submit to one another. The following three sections are all subsections of this point: one for Wives submitting to Husbands, one for Children submitting to Parents, and one for Slaves submitting to Masters. But when looking at all of these, bad shepherds (ie, racist, sexist assholes) like to ignore that first bit, submit to one another, just as they like to ignore 5:28, which says “husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself;” or they ignore 6:4 which says “Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord;” and they ignore 6:9, “Masters, treat your slaves in the same way. Do not threaten them, since you know that he who is both their Master and yours is in heaven, and there is no favoritism with him.” I do highly encourage you to read chapters 4, 5, and 6 in full, or at least start at 4:17, which is where Paul starts talking about “Living as Children of Light,” because it makes the intent of these apparently damning verses much more clear. Paul is stating that as Christians, we should treat everyone around us with honor and respect. According to one of my study bibles, the grammar of the original Greek suggests that the “submission” involved in all three sections is intended to be mutual submission, and is to come from a filling of the Holy Spirit. However, to be quite frank, Paul still Lived In A Society. A highly structured, patriarchal society, in which all members of a household (women, children, slaves) were expected to submit to the patriarchal head of that household. Male children until they reached adulthood, Slaves until they were freed (remember that, while by no means a purely morally good thing, the system of Roman Slavery was VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Atlantic Slave Trade that men later used this passage to justify existing), and women, unfortunately, for their whole lives. In another one of his letters, what is now the book of Galatians, Paul says in chapter 3 verse 27-29 that “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.” This would have been radical at the time. Paul is promising all people of all genders and classes that, in the eyes of God, they are Equal, One, and all “sons,” meaning that they all have a right to the Inheritance of the Father (remember, at this time and in this culture women did not get any inheritance, and younger sons got significantly less than the firstborn. Paul assures the believers that they ALL are equal receivers of the Promises of God). But this equality that Paul speaks of was, in his eyes, a spiritual equality. He was not particularly concerned with overthrowing the earthly patriarchal society that subjugated women and lower classes, but rather instructed all members of that society who also were Believers to submit equally to one another out of love and respect, for they were all Equal in God’s eyes and would be Equal in heaven. This is why he both tells women to submit to and obey their husbands, but also husbands to love, cherish, and care for their wives. Children, obey your parents, but Fathers, don’t be dicks to your kids. Slaves should obey their masters (slavery was much more like a job that you weren’t allowed to quit until your boss said so) but Masters shouldn’t abuse their slaves. There are Societal Authorities, and Paul is telling his readers “look you can’t just go around not respecting those Authorities, but also hey, if you’re the Authority? That’s not a free pass to be an asshole.” As one of my study bibles puts it, “Paul counseled all believers to submit to one another by choice…this kind of mutual submission preserves order and harmony in the family while it increases love and respect among family members.” Paul is basically saying “it’s better for everyone if we all get along, and remember that Christ had a servant’s heart, and intentionally lowered himself for us, so we should do the same for each other.” And while a patriarchal class system is still super sucky for like 80% of the people involved, at least it’s a whole lot more bearable if everyone involved is being a Nice, Good Member of that Society. You mentioned being worried about being treated like a “second rate citizen.” The fact of the matter is that when this was written, women were second rate citizens; that is the context in which Paul is writing. And while I firmly believe that that was wrong, in every sense of the word, Paul wasn’t especially concerned about challenging that aspect of society. Priority one was “Spread the Gospel” and Priority two was “Don’t Get Killed while Spreading the Gospel.” Speaking of Paul, let’s talk a little more about Saul of Tarsus, shall we? In all literary analysis, it is important to examine the author’s beliefs and what biases may have made their way into the work. And while we believe the bible to be a Holy Book, it can and should be subject to the same rules of literary analysis as non-religious texts. First, you must ask yourself, what do you believe about the bible? There are four general ways of looking at it (which are called Theories of Inspiration).

The bible is the Divine Word of God, dictated word for word across centuries directly to its human authors by God Himself.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. While they are writing in their own words, this Inspiration means that the bible is Wholly Perfect with no errors.

The bible is the Divine Word of God, written across centuries by men Inspired by the Holy Spirit. However, because they are imperfect, fallible men, there is a possibility of errors in the text, both in the account of events that happened and in the teaching therein.

The bible is a collection of accounts written by men, with no Divine Intervention from God. It is not Holy, God’s Word, or Infallible.

I was raised to believe theory 2, but now I personally believe theory 3. And since I’m the author of this analysis, it is through the lens and bias of theory 3 that I now present my next point: Paul was sexist. I don’t think he was maliciously so (see again, Galatians 3, and the statement in Ephesians 5 that men should honor, cherish, and care for their wives), but he was a product of his time who had ingrained ideas about women and their place in society. This does not A) mean he was right about how women should act OR B) mean that we should toss out everything he had to say, about women or otherwise, because he was Problematic. Most biblical authors were, in fact, Problematic. Either by our modern standards, due to the time in which they lived, OR by the standards of their own time, because God liked to use Imperfect People (we’re all imperfect, but He liked particularly imperfect people) in His plans. David was an adulterer and murderer. Paul happily sent dozens of Christians to their deaths. Peter was hotheaded and super prejudiced against Gentiles and Samaritans. And most of them were, in one way or another, sexist, racist, and homophobic. These biases then found their way, intentionally or not, into their writings, and then other racist, sexist, homophobic men used those writings to justify systemic oppression of anyone who was not like them. Oppression that is not Christlike. So where does that leave us, in our 21st century application of scripture to our daily lives? We must examine how it was to be read at the time (which we have done), and then see what we can apply from it to our own lives. For myself in my marriage, I look again to the original grammar of Ephesians 5, that indicates the submission is to be mutual. I “submit” to my husband, and he “submits” to me. In other words, our relationship is built on Trust, Clear Communication, and Respect for one another. Sometimes we have to compromise, and I have to put aside my own desires for his sake, or he must set aside his own desires for my sake. It is a willingness to listen to one another, to approach conflicts with an open mind, to consider each other’s feelings before we speak. It is an equal, mutual submission based on love for each other, which doesn’t contradict what Paul says at all. God created all people to be equal. Humans are stupid sometimes and try to insist that we know better, try to create hierarchies and use the bible to try and justify that, but that doesn’t mean those humans are right. If your church is trying to make you feel less than because of your gender, or if you date somebody who pushes TradWife rhetoric and tries to use Ephesians as their justification, then you Run, and feel justified in doing so. (Especially if they also try to use Paul’s words to tell you why you owe your partner sex; see again, Paul was not only sexist but also lived in a patriarchal time when women were second class citizens that had very specific expectations placed on them AND he wasn’t even in a relationship himself, forgive me if I take his advice on my sex life with a grain of salt. Without doing this whole process again, a good modern reading of “don’t deprive one another” is “don’t use sex as a weapon in your relationship/withhold it for bs reasons when you’re mad at each other, etc. Like all other relationship things, sex (or a lack thereof) with your spouse should be based on mutual trust, communication, and love, not petty arguments or the standards of others.)

Trust me, as an ace woman myself, I totally get the fear. I’ve felt it myself, in the past. But God’s intentions for you are not that you become a doormat or servant to a man. If a romantic relationship (or any other partnership) is part of His plan for you, then the bible clearly states, both in Ephesians and elsewhere, that it should be one built on Love and Trust, not Subjugation and Servitude.

I hope this helped you, and again, sorry it was so long XD. Have an amazing day! <3

[ofthedespondent]

[ florence pugh, cisfemale, she/her ] oh, them? that’s EMERY GRAHAM, they are TWENTY FOUR. they are currently a [ VET TECH AT HAWKINS VET CLINIC ]. i hear people say they are RESPONSIBLE, SYMPATHETIC & TRUSTING but also NAIVE, DEPENDENT, MEEK. i always think of TAKING IN EVERY ANIMAL YOU SEE, SOFT PASTELS, A CARDIGAN FOR EVERY OCCASION, PUTTING OTHERS BEFORE YOURSELF AND LEAVING A PART OF YOU WITH EVERYONE YOU MEET .. i wonder what their favorite scary movie is? [red, 21+, they/she, cst]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 .

full name: emerson ‘emery’ graham age: twenty-four pronouns: she/her sexual orientation: pansexual    faceclaim: florence pugh occupation: vet tech

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 . substance abuse tw!

born to a narcissist and an empath , emery was doomed from the start. she was the middle child of three , having an older sister and then a younger brother. her family was unstable before she could even walk , maybe even before her older sister could do the same. from the moment she could remember , emery’s mother didn’t care about anyone other than herself , which was made clear the moment she decided to walk out of the door on christmas eve. what was supposed to be an exciting morning of presents and family time turned into something so much worse.

of course , this wasn’t the first time her mother had bailed on them. but this was the first time that it actually stuck. her mother had a knack for theatrics and what better way to completely ditch your family than to do it on one of the most family centric holidays of the year ? as much as she held out hope that her mother would return , once days turned into weeks she knew her mother was gone with the wind.

but they still had their father! that should have been good right? only , her father was the one who took her departure the hardest. he slipped into a depression , something so ugly and terrifying that no one had a clue on how to help. and he was the parent , he was supposed to step up for them right ? well - that was another thing that the ten year old ended up getting wrong.

it wasn’t even like she could’ve relied on her older sister for guidance , her natural instinct was to avoid all of them. she favored partying and waiving away her emotions and feelings more than addressing everything face on. so that left emery to not only take care of her younger brother but also her own father - to distraught to actually help himself let alone three kids.

so from that day forward , emery had to be the mother that she never had. not only for her younger brother but for her sister as well when she would show up blitzed out of her mind and needing someone to care for her. she never got to be the child , not after that christmas. she had to grow up way too fast and eventually , she just accepted that as her reality.

the habit of picking up other people when they were at their worst didn’t just end at her own house , it got into her dating life eventually. she was drawn to the people that almost needed fixing in a way , that she could provide to them. but unfortunately for her , every time she fixed a person they left her and took a piece of her with them. every time the person chipping away at her own sense of self more and more as the time went on.

once she graduated high school , she continued to jump from one disastrous relationship to another while still maintaining the household. her sister was long gone , she couldn’t even remember the last time she had an actual conversation with her as her sister. she went to college , getting a nice degree and getting her own vet clinic. because of her empathetic nature , helping animals was the best route for her. plus, that was a healthier route than how she was going. she always had a pension for taking in strays , at least now she knew she could help these ones.

ok here’s emery a little bit more abt her because i can’t help myself: she has a french bulldog named hamilton & frequently shops at thrift stores because she has the best finds there. she also currently owns the vet clinic & is always looking for a receptionist or someone else to work there as well.

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 !

exes:  she’s got a String of bad relationships and she’s never gotten into some sort of entanglement that didn’t end in her catching feelings. it’s just in her nature /:

the mom friend™: with her upbringing, it’s only natural for her to want to care for other people the way she had grown so accustomed to doing all these years. so let her be a mom friend to your muses, its truly what she does BEST 

the ride or die: her best friend that has seen her through all of this and has remained a staple in her life since they were in school together when they were younger.

coworkers: someone who works at the vet clinic with her or even a receptionist for the clinic! the more the merrier 

“wild” friends: those who help remind her that she’s still young and should be experiencing her life, now more than ever. they keep her young essentially 

[youreobsessedwithciminalminds]

Quotes

IDK why, but this just came to me

Quotes the characters have said that I could base a Imagine or something on (same thing as the Dialogue)

1.  "You should see what comes up when you type 'death' into a search engine."

2.  "I am a doctor, so technically it wasn't a lie."

3.  "I got shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies."

4.  "I never have any normal fans."

5.  "I totally saved your life. And I'm pretty certain it was caught on tape."

6.   “Well, I think politics makes people distrustful. I think it makes them hate themselves. I think it tears families apart, and damages people.”

7.  “It's always sad seeing someone's life reduced to the things they had with them when they died. It's just so clear they didn't know how short their time would be.”

8.  “I've always heard every ending is also a beginning. We just don't know it at the time. I'd like to believe that's true.”

9.  “When a woman tells a man about her feelings, she doesn't want him to fix her. She wants him to shut up and listen.”

10. “Of the twenty self-described pickup artists in the area, there's only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh, space cowboys.”

11. “How am I supposed to tell them I'm leaving when I don't want to go?”

12. “ This is my favorite part. This is where you hang yourself with your own tongue. So, please keep talking.”

13. “ Sometimes a suicidal person, in the days leading up to the act, will just blur out ‘I love you’ to family. Sort of like a goodbye.”

14. “ Sometimes a suicidal person, in the days leading up to the act, will just blur out ‘I love you’ to family. Sort of like a goodbye.”

15. “Oh god, please tell me you don't have a crush on a fictional character.” 

16. “Harming a person weaker than you doesn't take any special ability.”

17. “It's all conjecture, because there's nothing deviant in this guy's history. But if you wanted to do something bad, wouldn't it be nice to have another version of you to blame it on?”

18. “It was once said that love is giving someone the ability to destroy you, but trusting them not to.”

19. “A policeman pulled over a man, and he said to him, 'Sir, your eyes look bloodshot. Have you been drinking?' And that man replied, 'Officer, your eyes look glazed. Have you been eating donuts?'”

20. “I don't take kindly to being blown up. In fact, it kind of pisses me off.”

21. “Nobody remembers the victims, everybody remembers the killer. And that's exactly what happens when an agent puts the story ahead of the case.”

22. “I think, deep down, we're all capable of unspeakable things. Where it starts or what you call it, I don't know.”

23. “She's a vindictive narcissist whose entire self-image is wrapped up in being the perfect mother.”

24. “You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent. When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.”

25. “He...he kept growing despite his disease. The last time I laid beside him he was almost as long as me. He was ready to go, but I was unready to say goodbye. Begged him to open his eyes. Well, the cruelest part was that I could see who he would be at twenty, but I knew he would never get there.”

[arigatouiris]

zenosyne // m. atsumu x reader

Author’s Note: I like breaking cocky anime men that I find attractive and giving them a lot of angst because I’m evil and how much I love Miya Atsumu is beyond comparison uwu Hope ya’ll like this angst fest~

Also I understand that cheating is a bit of an iffy topic, and I’m sorry if this material offends anyone here. I can picture this scenario and I’m sorry if some of you don’t agree. Feel free to let me know what you think. 

Word count: 5649 words

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, trigger warnings, abusive households, alcoholic parent, fluff at the end

The average human being took 21 days to break a habit; but if that average human was Miya Atsumu, breaking the habit was as sporadic as the weather in Tokyo. He never liked Tokyo as much, and found home within Hyogo, but his games had him move so much that it sometimes made him yearn for a place that no longer existed.

Miya Atsumu did not have habits that he wanted to forget. Unless that habit included staring into the stands, searching for you, it was harmless.

After their penultimate win for that season, the MSBY Black Jackals celebrated; the crowd was loud, the cheers were everywhere—Atsumu always hated the loud that came with the audience, but he tolerated it because you would stand among them, waving at him, a large grin on your face, all directed at him. He’d raise his hand and hold it in the air for a couple of seconds, for you to see, and you would—before your grin only got wider. Atsumu would never admit what that sight made him feel, a sight that he believed he’d see for the rest of his life; but there he was, during their penultimate win that season, and you were not there.

It wasn’t even a force of habit, because his eyes never landed on the stands before. Or had they? Did Atsumu always do this? It had been over three weeks since permanently severing ties with you, and yet, his eyes kept travelling back there.

Three weeks—as long as it took to break a habit.

It was no breakup, Atsumu remembered very clearly how the phone conversation went. There was no verbal acceptance of the relationship ending, it was just one fact over another, and a misplaced goodbye from your end. You’d always managed to bag the good person card, and he didn’t mind giving it to you, either way. 

     “Miya-san!”

Shoyo’s form created a disturbance in the blond’s mind—the shorter male’s hands were raised to give him a high-five, which Atsumu absentmindedly delivered. But his mind was elsewhere. They say absence was also a presence, on a metaphysical level, the absence of scorpions falling from the sky itself contains the absence. The moment the mind comprehends the absence of something, that something is perpetually present. It was inevitable to miss you, because your absence screamed your presence louder. And he hated himself and hated you, too, for the ruin you’d made of each other. 

But, you would be there. During every single game.

Starting from high school to how his career passed in the Black Jackals, Miya Atsumu’s sassy girlfriend would be present in the stands, cheering quietly, chuckling at his misses, nervous at his slips, and ecstatic at his victories.

Miya Atsumu wouldn’t call you perfect, but he knew in all angles that you were. Once you let someone in, you were impossible to forget. There was something about you that crawled inside a person and built a nice comfy home there, your goodness expanding until it filled every limb. You were strangely relatable to an M&M, he thought. A reverse M&M, all sweet and smooth on the outside with a tough shell inside.

It went without saying that back in high school, he was a bit of a jerk; not just anyone would catch his eye. And if Miya Atsumu was dating just one girl from his third year till he finished university and entered a sports contract with the MSBY Black Jackals, you were truly something else. In high school, you were in a non-canon school band, you sang, played the guitar, and you were part of the track team. You scored well in studies, you wrote papers based on some research findings that he barely had any idea about—you were practically all over the place and it was hard to miss you.

Miya Atsumu wouldn’t call you perfect, but he knew he’d be an idiot if he used any other word to describe you. 

He loved every second of being with you because you wouldn’t make it easy for him. The second Atsumu felt like things were becoming stagnant, you’d either go missing or you’d throw at him a new challenge—you’d even fucking beat him at volleyball if you had to (thankfully, this never happened). You were constantly moving, leading the way, the complete opposite of what Atsumu thought most relationships would entitle with him around. it wasn’t that you tried hard to please him, no; it was that you were this way all this while, and Atsumu was just lucky.

You confessed to him first, serenading him in front of the entire volleyball team—throwing him for a toss and then laughing at his reaction of absolute surprise. It was as if he wasn’t allowed to be surprised at all, because there you were, pointing at his face and gawking, laughing till you had tears in your eyes.

     “What’s with that face, ‘Tsumu-Tsumu?”

Oh, how you got on his nerves. 

After that incident, when the school walked around talking of how you’d humiliated Miya Atsumu by throwing a pretend confession, he’d known the truth. You’d never pull something like that without a base; he knew that your words and feelings were true, but he also knew that you’d not just stop there. So what if you liked him? That did not mean you were under his beck and call—and god, that drove him crazy.

     “Go be someone first, pretty boy,” you’d said and he had no idea what the fuck you meant. 

As much as Atsumu loved back and forth flirting, with you, it just got frustrating because he knew that he was the one being thrown under a bus more than you were.

Two weeks went by with air flirting and tension filled winks in the corridor, which thus forced the blond to physically drag you into the broom closet in Inarizaki’s volleyball club gym, and seduce you using the mere power of his lips, tongue and hands. His words were a demand and that made you chuckle, that chuckle that made him want to simultaneously end your life or scream into the skies—he had no idea. But, you would never admit that the way he kissed you right then had stolen your words and the laugh was merely a shy response to maintain the cool demeanor you had so flawlessly carried out till then.

     “Miya-san, is everything okay?” Shoyo’s voice alerted Atsumu when they were heading out of the stadium.

Atsumu ruffled the boy’s orange head before chuckling, “Ya just caught me a bit off guard there.”

It had nothing to do with Shoyo. He walked out with his team toward where the bus was, and a slight ringing sounded in the blond’s ear. He was aware that hearing a C minor in your ear constantly when no noise surrounded them was an indication of deafness, but right then, only your face kept flashing in his mind because you were the one who told him that.

You would tell him a lot of things, starting from random facts about volleyball players in Russia, to the way dolphins communicated, or even about the first man who climbed the tallest peak in the world.

But, Miya Atsumu never realized that you would never, ever speak about yourself. The attention was always directed either at him or the world, and it hurt Atsumu to even think of how he never even noticed that she remained invisible all throughout this time. it was as if she didn’t want to speak about herself, like she was living a double life but there was no way Atsumu would know about it because he just never asked.

Dating Miya Atsumu, he realized, was like dating a narcissist; the only difference being, he genuinely cared for you but he wasn’t accustomed to think of others before himself. 

No one had told him it was a problem until Osamu had pointed it out, just days after breaking up with you. He was a walking box of angst waiting to spill onto the person who tried to help him, and there wasn’t anyway Atsumu could change unless the person came equipped. 

It was unfair, and strangely, close to impossible.

     “You were looking at the stands.” Shoyo pointed out, when they got into the bus.

Atsumu blinked before humming, wanting nothing more than to ignore this boy’s curious claims. But, Shoyo’s eyes were nothing like yours—your curiosity was directed at him at all times, but it was never demanding. 

Even if you weren’t the sort to direct any attention toward yourself, Atsumu didn’t want to think he was so bad that he wouldn’t have listened if you had just asked. If you had just told him, about anything at all that was bothering you, he’d downright throw everything aside and listen to you; but saying that now, after everything was broken, was rather easy and convenient, even his mind was telling him that these excuses were privileged.

You came with a stubbornness he hated in others, but somehow grew to love in you. And that trait of yours prevented you from telling Atsumu anything about your life at all.

*

The first time Miya Atsumu tried to break up with you, he wasn’t really thinking straight.

The relationship was moving in a steady pace, something he wasn’t used to with girls. You were busy with track, he was busy with volleyball—what he didn’t know back then was that you were busy with academics, track, your band, and a whole lot of other things he’d only learn of years later. But, the reason Atsumu chose to break up with you for the first time was because you were just never around.

You’d come to his every game; this went without saying, but you’d disappear right after. You’d reply to his messages hours after he’d sent them. You’d come to school earlier than anyone he knew, and he’d see you leave when his practice was about to end.

Communicating you became a task and Atsumu didn’t need to be responsible for that, and while this remained a good, solid reason to break up with you, he still never asked you if you were okay. If Atsumu could go back in time, he’d slap some sense into himself, but things passed in a way only to make him regret in the future—he had no say in it now.

He approached you one evening just before practice, noticed how your winter uniform clung to your skin, your face a bit red from the biting cold, your hands buried in your pockets. Atsumu wouldn’t miss the way his stomach flipped at your eyes sparkling to meet his.

     “What’s up, Tsumu?”

     “Ya know... This ain’t workin’ out.”

It was the first time he had seen you cry. While 17-year old Atsumu believed it was mainly because he tried breaking up with you, 23-year old Atsumu recalled the way your eyes were already red before he told you, of how there was a mild bruise under your left eye, how your hair was disheveled—and he remembered faintly hearing you tell him that you don’t get cold too easily, so the fact that your hands were shoved in your pockets meant that you were hiding something.

If only Atsumu had known back then.

     “H-Hey, (y/n)?”

Just before you were about to tell him it’s alright and it was stupid of you to burst out crying like that, Atsumu’s arms wrapped around your considerably smaller frame and pulled you close.

     “We’ll work it out, yeah?”

He was a tad bit annoyed that it didn’t go according to plan, but if he knew how much of a dick he was being back then, Miya Atsumu could have saved himself a great deal of hurt.

Pulling away, he noticed you’d already wiped your tears away. You smile at him, apologetically, invariably throwing his heart to the side, and take his hand in yours.

     “I’ll make it up to you.”

And you did. You delivered each time and Miya Atsumu was always thrown for a toss. But, there was a gnawing feeling at the back of his throat, which Atsumu would only realize was guilt years later.

*

The first time he finds out that your father was a drunk was when you make a dark joke about it. 

I’d say that my dad is an alcohol enthusiast, not alcoholic, per say.

The way you said it, it sounded hilarious to him right then. You were laughing, the boys around him were laughing—he should have judged from Osamu’s expression that one of your habits was to turn trauma into humor, but Atsumu ignored his twin brother’s expression and just focused on how intoxicatingly hilarious you were.

As he sat in the bus that was taking the MSB Black Jackals home, Miya Atsumu regretted laughing at that joke. 

If only. 

Those must be the saddest two words in the world, Miya Atsumu thought.

On some nights, he wonders if his heart would be filled with anything but this regret that was blinding him day in and day out. He had a bad case of the 3:00 am guilts; the ones when he’d simply just lie in bed awake and replay all those things he didn't do right. Because, as he knew, nothing solved insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret, depression and self-loathing.

     “Yer a cool girl, aren’t ya?”

     “Is that what you see me as, Tsumu-Tsumu?”

He remembers chuckling, ignoring the fact that your eyes looked puffy.

     “Yer the coolest girl in the world to me, (y/n)-chan.”

It was then, drowning in regret, while the bus moved him back to his hotel room, did Miya Astumu realize that living with heartbreak was easy if only it weren’t accompanied by regret.

He hates thinking of how you’d been so supportive, and how you’d still visit each of his games being a grad student, and yet—he was the one who went ahead and threw it all away. The itch in the back of his throat, the one that he felt for the first time back when he was trying to break up with you for the first time, was starting to grow. The itch was getting a bit difficult, Shoyo had to give him a bit of water, slap his back—and yet the itch didn’t subside.

     Tsumu-Tsumu, did you try breathing?

Why was it so difficult to breathe with you absent? How dare you take his breath away and never, ever return it?

Some part of him wondered how hard you’d laugh at him if you saw him right then. He was the one who hurt you, he was the one that wronged you, yet, he was the one who broke up with you. If there was a class for disgusting people, Miya Atsumu topped that list effortlessly. It’s true, he never really cared about people disliking him but the thought of you greeting him with anything but a smile twisted his heart in painful ways.

When he was signed with the Black Jackals, Miya Atsumu thinks of breaking up with you for the second time.

He’d have to keep moving, which meant most of your relationship would be long-distance. He wasn’t sure if balancing a volleyball career and a relationship would get him where he wanted to be—so he decided he’d just end things with you before it got too serious. 

If only he’d understood back then that a three-year relationship was serious enough, Miya Atsumu would not have gotten drunk and would not have made out rather provocatively with a strange woman whose name or face he did not remember the next day.

The love he felt for you was a borderline comfort that he had drawn out during his high school days. Miya Atsumu pictured it to be the sort of love that is mostly evident when you’re around, supporting him, cheering for him in that quiet, endearing way that you do—but thinking that way was giving you way little credit for what it actually was. Loving you was building a time bomb for himself the second you were not there. Loving you was building the anticipation for your exit, which then brought in the tragic, dark, bone-crunching pain that only came because he had hurt you in so many ways that you’re now forced to push yourself away because he is clearly not good for you, and you clearly deserved better.

The first time he saw you ever since kissing someone else, Miya Atsumu took nearly three seconds to come clean. But it was after spilling the words ‘I cheated on you’ did he notice something that inevitably shattered his soul.

You had a bruise on your chin, your eyes are red, your skin dry, your hair looked terrible—you clearly were not having a good time. 

How could he have been so blind?

     “(y/n), what happened—”

     “Atsumu, you what?”

Heh, he thought before his mind reminded him of his narcisism. How many times had he even asked you how you were doing? What you were doing? How many times had he bothered to ask you if you were doing alright?

The answer devastated him.

     “So, this is it then,” You said, and it was when you looked away did he find a splotch of red in the white of your eye.

His heart was rummaging in his chest. The gnawing feeling was back at the edge of his throat. He’s standing there, knowing something was clearly wrong with you, yet all he was acting out on was his own selfish desire of breaking up with you because the thought of continuing this and getting hurt later on was scaring him more.

Miya Atsumu was festering his own demise and he had no idea that he was doing it.

The expression in your eyes was as bitter as nightshade. Atsumu could feel his fingers shaking at how your lips were quivering right then, but you were doing everything you could to hold on. He could see now so clearly how your eyes were welling up with tears, but you chose fortitude over displaying emotions in front of him so you shoot him a smile and tilt your head the way you’d always done before—one of the reasons why he chose you in the first place.

     “Tsumu, I hope you’re happy wherever you are,” All he wanted was to scream her name out loud, “That’s all I want.”

How much he hated you right then because every word you said you meant it.

*

The night three weeks ago, he remembered getting back to his apartment and vomiting his guts out. Miya Atsumu released everything out into his commode, the contents of the food he ate the day before and perhaps that morning—tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he sat there, haphazardly, breathless and tired; hair disheveled but eyes constantly bringing your image to him again and again and again.

What’s done is done, he keeps telling himself, but fuck, why does it feel like he just killed someone?

He was so blinded by your apparent perfection that he didn't recognize the tremendous pain behind your work. You gave him hundreds of images, so many chances to see that you were in trouble. He had failed you.

Atsumu shut his eyes and felt someone tap his shoulder. Turning to his right, he noticed Shoyo, looking at him curiously.

     “We’re reached, Miya-san. You look ill.”

The gnawing feeling at the back of his throat was growing. 

     “Oh! And,” Shoyo grabbed something from the back of his pocket. Taking out his new cellphone, he displayed something to the blond, “Today’s the reunion!”

Fuck, Atsumu thought before running a hand through his hair. It was too late to cancel, Osamu was already going. A part of his heart hoped you’d be there, but he knew that it was wishful thinking. 

     “Did you have a highschool girlfriend, Miya-san?”

     “Hm, yeah—”

Her name was (y/n).

Suddenly, Atsumu grabbed his bottle and chugged the water down, hoping the gagging feeling would subside. 

     “Miya-san?”

     “Yanno, I’ll see ya later, squirt.”

The reunion was placed in a dingy looking bar, only because it was the closest to the university. Atsumu chuckled when he saw Osamu sitting at the corner, looking annoyed. Waving at his brother, Atsumu walked over to sit beside him, in absolute silence, before hearing Osamu click his tongue.

     “You smell disgustin’.”

     “Nice to see ya too, Samu. I just had a game—”

     “Couldn’tya shower?” Osamu sighed, running a hand through his hair.

It didn’t take long for Atsumu to bring you up.

     “She ain’t here,” Osamu said, rolling his eyes, “Head from ‘er friend, Sakura something, that ‘er life is practically shit.”

Atsumu wasn’t too surprised to hear this, but there it was again, the gagging feeling at the back of his throat.

     “Didja even know ‘er father used to drink, Tsumu?”

He did. He knew. 

     “So fuckin’ self-centered,” He heard his twin whisper to himself. “Tis a surprise to me that she was even with ya for so long.”

He knew. Yet, he never once addressed it. Never once asked you how you were. Never once bothered to allow himself to know; it was as if he was comfortable being praised within the bubble you had created for him, sheltering him from your nasty background. Only now when he thought about it did he realize how terrible he was, as a friend, as a boyfriend, as a lover—he had failed to be a decent human being to you.

     “O’er there’s Sakura something,” Osamu said, pointing to a girl Atsumu remembered would always stick by your side. “She was in the track team with (y/n).”

Atsumu normally would have stayed away; maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the deep mourning he had been feeling from the past few weeks, but in actuality, it was the gnawing feeling that was threatening to spill, it was killing him.

     “Sakura-chan, it’s been a while.”

The way this girl sent a glare to Atsumu’s direction almost made him laugh.

     “Let me guess, you want to know about (y/n).”

     “Was it that obvious?” Atsumu rubbed the back of his head.

Sakura sighed, “Listen, I ain’t tellin’ you shit because you asked. I’m tellin’ you because it’ll do her good to see someone right now and it might as well be you because it clearly won’t be anyone else.”

What the hell does that mean? 

     “A month ago, (y/n)’s father left them,” Atsumu’s eyes widen, “She had to almost quit college, but her mum found a job at a convenience store. But, (y/n) moved out of her dorm and lives at home now, saving up on the grad school money and helping out.”

     “Her father... He...” 

     “Listen,” Sakura snapped, clicking her tongue, “I ain’t tellin’ you no more of this. Go see her or don’t, she doesn’t need you. God knows you ain’t good for her.”

Atsumu almost nodded at the girl’s statement. 

     “She told you nothin’ because well, did ya ever ask?”

He goes back to his room after that shit-fest of a reunion, Osamu patting his shoulder a couple of times before making a move. Once he was back, Atsumu instantly broke down—the tears stinging his eyes as they fell, it was as if his tears were made of acid because it had been that long since he had cried for anything.

His hands were shaking, and he needed to do something to stop them from shaking—the feeling was intense and he hated every second of it. Throwing a nasty punch to the wall, Atsumu’s hands were bruised instantly before he realized he was a pro-volleyball player. Heading to the sink, he placed his hands under the running water and breathed, noting that his breath was hitching. He looked out into the water and just stared. Closing his eyes, Atsumu’s legs found themselves dragging him to every corner of his hotel room—finding an inch that could comfort him that night. He settled for the balcony, under the stars, where he found himself begging the sparkling lanterns of light to cure him of himself—his past and the kaleidoscope of mistakes, failures and wrong turns that have stacked unbearable regret upon his shoulders.

*

The loss of their final game of the season did not him him as hard as it would otherwise have. In the dressing room, he felt his phone buzz and his heart jumped out of his ribcage at the name that had popped up on his phone. 

(y/n): Jump set, back set, one set, two set, if setting were easy, they might let you set!

It takes Miya Atsumu less than a few seconds to call you. 

     “Tsumu? Is everything okay?”

     “Where are you?” It was eerie that you were whispering, but it was even eerier that he didn’t know where you were.

He always knew; it felt so strange.

     “I’m at work, actually—”

At work? Aren’t you a grad student? He wanted to ask, but words refused to slip out of him right then. The silence stretched out, heartbeat after heartbeat – taut, excruciating. And then, finally, came the first sound: 

     “I want to see you.”

His voice betrayed him; he didn’t sound like himself, but here he was, stretching out far and thin by a person who made zero effort in ruining him but had invariably managed to do so.

It takes Atsumu even less time to book a cab and head to your location. What surprises him is that it’s the very same convenience store that your mother supposedly works at, but why did you say you were working there? Atsumu’s sudden curiosity over your wellbeing, over your life threw him for a toss. This was not how things were, but this was how things were supposed to be.

And there you were, standing outside the door, hands in your pockets, the green uniform of the convenience store over your clothes.

You stood there, in all your candid glory, confident, yet shy, and angel-like. Your (h/c) hair always seemed to capture whatever available light there was, and your skin, much to Atsumu’s annoyance, was flawless. Today you were wearing a black turtleneck that accentuated every curve and your jeans were structured in a way that they made sure they highlighted the best part of your legs. You had a thick aura of battle around you, and your face was almost doll-like, it was so pleasant to look at.

     “Ya work here?” Atsumu wasn’t grinning, you felt odd.

Blinking, “Mum’s a bit tired so I’m covering her shift. Are you—”

     “Why didn’t ya come to the reunion?”

     “I had to submit a paper earlier today. Sorry, I’d have loved to see everyone!”

Your cheerfulness kills him, and he only hopes it doesn’t show. But, he takes a good long look at you. Yes, you’re just as beautiful—but you have dark circles around your eyes now. You’ve lost a bit of weight. You’ve lost that spark in your eye.

Clearly, you were having a difficult time. Miya Atsumu finds that his heart is breaking at the revelation.

     “Tsumu, are you okay?”

Fucking hell.

     “Stop.”

Your eyes widen, “Eh?”

     “How am I? How are you?! Tell me what’s wrong, (y/n)! Tell me what’s happenin’ with you, I never... I never asked ya so ya never tell me? Am I really that fucked up of a guy? That ya can’t... I loved ya, (y/n), I still... Damn it! I fucked up, okay? I fucked up big time! (y/n)—”

You walk over to him and pat his head, but Atsumu instantly slaps your hand away. You shoot him a glare before patting his head once more and pulling him down forcefully, his head on your shoulder, breathing into it. 

     “Dad left us,” Atsumu freezes at your words. “He used to drink. He’d throw things sometimes. He didn’t really hit anyone until we’d go over to stop him—”

     “That’s fuckin’ horrible—”

     “He had his own issues.”

Atsumu pulls away before cursing, “Stop bein’ so fuckin’ understandin’ all the damn time!”

You find yourself giggling at his actions. 

     “It’s okay now.” You said, giving him a kind smile.

Atsumu shakes his head, “It’s not. It’s not okay, (y/n). What the fuck—Why... Why were you even with someone like me? What the hell is wrong with ya?”

He could see how the anger built up in your eyes, but he wasn’t finished.

     “You’re so fucking... perfect,” He rubs a hand over his face in frustration, “Grad student, supporting yer mom, you... you came to every single game o’ mine. Every single game, damn it... I never knew ‘cause you barely showed any signs, but why... Why the fuck were ya with someone like me—”

     “Tsumu... You kept me alive, you know?” He refused to believe it. “When I was with you, I could forget things from my life that would have otherwise destroyed me. I grew to love you because of how passionate you were and that passion blinded me,” You went ahead and held his hands in yours, not ignoring the freshly formed bruise on his knuckles. 

     “I was with you as a choice, Tsumu, and I’d choose you every single fucking time. I wasn’t with you because i had nowhere to go. Don’t ever think that, okay? Because I can very well live fine by myself! I chose to be with you because I love you and I’ll do anything for the people I love,” 

He had never seen this face of yours. It was enchanting.

     “And I get it, people say choose yourself over boys, but maybe, choosing you was what kept me healthy, because look at me, Tsumu,” You point to yourself, tears leaking out of your eyes, “Take a good long look!”

Miya Atsumu’s eyes widen. You’re so tired, it’s as bright as day now. The spark in your eye almost gone.

     “Loving you helped me, and I’m not saying that your self-centered assholery is toxic, no. Yeah, sure, it can be toxic, but I needed it at the time. I... I am not perfect, Tsumu. I’m so far from perfect that it’ll knock your socks off!”

You were rambling now and he remembered that trait of yours—a rare aspect from his past; you’d ramble when you got nervous, your hands flailing cutely in front of you, tracing invisible lines in the air as you tried to narrow down your words. Atsumu’s gaze softens, as he lets you.

     “P-Perfection doesn’t come from someone hiding their pain well, it’s... it’s dark and gritty and bloody and sweaty, because it’s so fucking hard—” Your voice breaks in the end.

Atsumu doesn’t waste time in pulling you to his chest, shushing you and kissing your cheeks in the next minute; he holds your face like you are the most precious thing ever. 

He takes a breath before asking you something he was afraid to, “I cheated on you, didn’t you get mad?”

You nod, “I got hella mad, I’m still a bit mad, of course! Hey, just because I’m madly in love with you doesn’t make me a doormat, yanno?” You fumble.

Atsumu notices how red your face is now, and he smiles. A genuine smile—one that you hadn’t seen on Atsumu in so, so long. Your hand is in his and he bends to your level, his forehead on your shoulder, and it first comes out as a whisper,

     “I’m so sorry, (y/n).”

Your eyes widen slowly.

     “I’m so sorry, I love you so much. I’m sorry—”

A second later, you wind your hands around him, hugging him, and it shushes him. 

You don’t hesitate, “You gotta make it up to me, you know?”

Atsumu smiles so warmly as he wipes the tears off your eyes, nodding. His hand glides down your arm, folds over your hand. His fingers lace with yours, palms kissing. You could feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch.

     “I’ll do that for the rest of my life, (y/n).”

You make a disgusted face a second later, “Stop being so sappy, Tsumu, ewwww.”

Your hands grasp his collar and bring him down to your level, as you plant a kiss him on his lips. Atsumu kisses back but you could feel the hesitation in his bones, and it annoys you. You pull away, and say the one thing Atsumu has been dying to prove to you.

     “Kiss me like you missed me, Atsumu.”

They say a kiss is a secret which takes the lips for the ear. When Atsumu kisses you right then, he could have been whispering the secrets of the universe to you, but you didn’t care. His mouth came down on yours. And that was it. All the self-control he’d exerted over the past weeks went, like water crashing through a broken dam. Your arms came up around his neck and he pulled you against him. His hands flattened against your back, and you were up on the tips of your toes, kissing him as fiercely as he was kissing you. He clung to you more tightly, knotting his hands in your hair, trying to tell you, with the press of his mouth on yours, all the things he could never say out loud. 

     “I love you so much, Miya Atsumu,” You say, your hands on his cheek, “I’m sorry for not opening up to you.”

With a shake of his head, “I’ll never let ya go, (y/n).” 

At that second, neither of you realize that Miya Atsumu would never look at another; the gagging in his throat was gone, replaced with the need to constantly wonder about you—a need to have you by his side permanently. Perhaps, this was growth. One would never know. But, whatever it was, Miya Atsumu was glad that he had found a habit he didn’t ever have to break anymore.

[jackoshadows]

It wasn’t fair. Sansa had everything. Sansa was two years older; maybe by the time Arya had been born, there had been nothing left. Often it felt that way. Sansa could sew and dance and sing. She wrote poetry. She knew how to dress. She played the high harp and the bells. Worse, she was beautiful. Sansa had gotten their mother’s fine high cheekbones and the thick auburn hair of the Tullys. Arya took after their lord father. Her hair was a lusterless brown, and her face was long and solemn. […] It hurt that the one thing Arya could do better than her sister was ride a horse. Well, that and manage a household. - Arya, AGoT

No, Arya was not jealous of Sansa. She was envious of Sansa. There is a difference here. She longed to be as beautiful as Sansa. Arya longed to do well all the things that Sansa could. She thought it unfair that Sansa had all these talents and good looks while she did not.

Arya’s envy did not exist in some kind of vacuum. It came about because Arya was seen as ‘less than’ her beautiful elder sister. Sansa could do well all the things required to be a good lady - singing, sewing, dancing - while Arya was seen as being deficient. She’s mocked for her looks and bullied as being ugly. She is constantly compared to Sansa by her mother and Septa Mordane - if you only do this, you will be as pretty as your sister. If you could only sew well, you would be as good as your sister. Arya’s envy is a result of her feelings of low self-worth - the feeling that she will never be good enough unless she is like Sansa.

“…my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.” Robb wouldn’t care about that, probably, but her mother would. Lady Catelyn always wanted her to be like Sansa, to sing and dance and sew and mind her courtesies. Just thinking of it made Arya try to comb her hair with her fingers, but it was all tangles and mats, and all she did was tear some out.“  - Arya, ASoS

The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister’s beauty.  - Brienne, AFfC

Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress, the way her sister did. - The Blind girl, ADwD

Arya wants all the things Sansa has because she is required to be like Sansa to have value in Westeros society and in the eyes of someone she loves - her mother.

Arya’s envy of Sansa is similar to Jon’s envy of Robb. It’s what Jon feels growing up as a bastard outcast in Winterfell seeing Robb enjoy all the privileges that he is denied because of his birth. Even as far as ADwD, Jon is envious of Robb - long after Robb is dead.

But Jon does not want to take from Robb. He does not have ill will towards Robb. He just wants what Robb has. That’s why Sansa’s accusation of Jon being jealous of Joffrey because his low birth is false.

"Poor Jon," she (Sansa) said. "He gets jealous because he's a bastard." - Arya, AGoT

Jon did not like Joffrey because Joffrey was a terrible human being. And not because he was more good looking or the future king. And just like Sansa devalues and dismisses Jon’s opinions on Joffrey because of Jon’s ‘jealousy’, Arya’s real feelings of hurt and low-self worth due to being bullied are often dismissed because she was simply being ‘jealous’ of Sansa.

And just like Jon and Robb, Arya never intends any ill will towards Sansa over this. She never hurts Sansa over this. She never verbalizes this envy to Sansa.  

And that’s why the ‘both sides are equally bad’ take on Arya and Sansa’s relationship never makes sense except to excuse and justify Sansa’s treatment of her younger sibling. Sansa actively contributes to Arya’s feelings of low self-worth by calling her ugly and mocking her looks with her bestie Jeyne Poole. Sansa sides against Arya even after seeing Joffrey attacking her with his sword. Sansa proclaims to Cersei that it is Arya who has the traitor’s blood.

The ‘both sides’ crowd use the above single passage of Arya being ‘jealous’ of Sansa as proof that Arya is equally responsible for their fractious relationship, when these are the things that Sansa thinks and says of Arya:

Arya had a way of ruining everything. - AGoT

Why couldn’t Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother had been common, or so people whispered. - Sansa, AGoT

She told herself that it had not been Joffrey’s doing, not truly. The queen had done it; she was the one to hate, her and Arya. Nothing bad would have happened except for Arya. - Sansa, AGoT

“They should have killed you instead of Lady!” - Sansa, AGoT

“She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can’t stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid.”   Sansa, AGoT

Sansa threw back her head in disdain. “You? You couldn’t sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties.” Sansa, AGoT

“Send Arya away, she started it,” - Sansa, AGoT

Arya was chewing at her lip in that disgusting way she had. - Sansa, AGoT

“Hodor!” Sansa yelled. “You ought to marry Hodor, you’re just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!”  - Sansa, AGoT

“I’m not like Arya,” Sansa blurted. “She has the traitor’s blood, not me. I’m good, ask Septa Mordane, she’ll tell you” - Sansa, AGoT

Father had killed her (Lady), on account of Arya. - Sansa, ACoK

Sansa had once dreamt of having a sister like Margaery; beautiful and gentle, with all the world’s graces at her command. Arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went. - Sansa, ACoK

“You are the real Arya, my lady. Arya of House Stark, Lord Eddard’s daughter, heir to Winterfell.” Her name, she had to know her name. “Arya Underfoot. Your sister used to call you Arya Horseface.”  - The Prince of Winterfell, ADwD

Are children who bully other kids just because they are different in terms of behavior and appearance excused because they are ‘just children’? No? Then why use this justification to excuse Sansa’s behavior towards Arya? Is the bullied child equally to blame as the bully? Do people actually say things like - “Well the bullied child is internally feeling jealous of the bully’s good looks and hence is as much to blame as the child bullying him for being ugly”.

Do people who read Hans Christian Anderson’s ‘The Ugly Duckling’ come away thinking that the ugly duckling is as responsible as the other animals who abuse him for being ugly? A book that Anderson wrote because - “Andersen himself was a tall, ugly boy with a big nose and big feet, and when he grew up with a beautiful singing voice and a passion for the theater he was cruelly teased and mocked by other children"

People suffer from low self-worth sometimes for their entire life after being bullied in child hood for their looks. Arya finds it hard to accept when others call her pretty since she’s been conditioned to accept that she’s ugly.

Is Catelyn responsible in large part for Arya’s issues with self-worth? No doubt. Did Catelyn and Septa Mordane play a part in encouraging Sansa’s behavior? No doubt. But that does not absolve Sansa’s own role in how she treated her siblings like Arya and Jon considering a person’s empathy for others often guides us towards right and wrong. Which is something important to note when Sansa is often as praised as one of the most compassionate and empathetic character of the series.

Sansa is a flawed character who mocked her sister for being ugly and was mainly responsible for the fractious relationship between the sisters and it’s wrong to blame the victim for the bully’s actions because the victim was ‘jealous’ of her bully. There’s a reason for why GRRM says this:

Sansa was the least sympathetic of the Starks in the first book; she has become more sympathetic, partly because she comes to accept responsibility for her part in her father's death.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/feature.html?tag=westeros-21&ie=UTF8&docId=49161

The reader is of course free to blame Ned, Cat, Arya, Maester Coleman etc. etc. for Sansa’s every action in the books but I doubt that was GRRM’s intentions.

[brightbeautifulthings]

Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

"'What if sometimes there is no choice about what to love? What if the temple comes to Mohammed? What if you just love? without deciding? You just do: you see her and in that instant are lost to sober account-keeping and cannot choose but to love?'"

Year Read: 2014, 2020

Rating: 5/5

Context: It's hard to know where to begin writing a review for this book. I read it for the first time in graduate school in about five weeks (alongside everything else I had to do in grad school, so I don't recommend that), and it basically blew my mind. At the same time, it's hard to imagine tackling it any other way for the first time. Despite its difficulty, there are things obsessive and immersive and, appropriately, even addictive about it. Full immersion might be the only way to read it for the first time, and I obsessed about it for months afterward. Since I'm not on any deadlines, I took it more slowly this time (21 weeks) so I could enjoy the writing and the nuances without the pressure to finish. For my less coherent weekly updates in real time, see my blog posts. Trigger warnings: Everything, everything. Death (on-page), child death, animal death, suicide, suicidal ideation, rape, pedophilia, possible incest, child abuse/abusive households, graphic violence/gore, eye horror, severe injury, drug use, addiction, alcoholism, mental illness, depression, OCD, grief, racism, ableism, transphobia, sexism, inexplicable hostility toward Canadians.

About: If it's difficult to know how to write a review, it's equally hard to describe what Infinite Jest is about. It's about so many things, tennis, addiction, communication (failures), and entertainment among them, but I'll do my best. Beneath all the numerous characters, timelines, and subplots, the main plot is about a film so entertaining that it kills anyone who watches it, robs them of all desire to do anything but watch it until they die, and what a faction of Canadian assassins will do to possess it. The auteur is James Incandenza, a suicide whose son, Hal, is a prodigy at Enfield Tennis Academy. Next door to E.T.A. is Ennet House, a drug rehabilitation center where Don Gately, former thief and Demerol addict, is taking it day by day to stay sober. Though they don't know it, Hal and Gately are connected, and the deadly Entertainment and those who seek it draw their paths closer and closer together.

Thoughts: It's rare to find a book that is actually as smart as it claims to be, but IJ is--certainly much smarter than I am, despite all my attempts to make sense of it. It starts off strong and doesn't let up for several hundred pages, which is a huge achievement all by itself. Wallace excels at writing extremely polished sections that could almost function alone as short stories, and the first chapter is one of my favorites in all fiction. It's reassuring, I think, to start the book off on a strong note, in case we worried we were in for a thousand pages of tedious slog. It can be both, but it's often heartfelt, insightful, and funny as well, and the payoff is well worth the effort. I don’t know how Wallace manages to pack every page with so much meaning. Anybody can put tedious lists in their books or make reading purposely difficult (and I have attitude about writers who do this for no reason), but there’s nothing haphazard about this book, despite its size and varied focus. Everything seems utterly intentional. The conversations are really top-tier; Wallace has a great ear for how people talk, and it's a fascinating look at how communication works and doesn't work.

Thematically, I think the book succeeds on more than any other level, including plot or structure. If we could say this book is "about" anything, we would almost certainly start with the themes and not the plot, which is often secondary to whatever point Wallace is trying to make at the moment. It takes an in-depth looks at things like addiction, depression, loneliness, failed communication, sincerity v. irony, critiques of postmodernism and metafiction (while being very meta itself, at times), and the very specific selfishness of an American culture that insists on freedom even to the point of self-destruction. At times, it feels a little heavy-handed or like it was yanked right out of an intro to philosophy course, but I suppose something in a thousand pages has to be obvious if we're ever going to pick up on it. A lot of these themes resurface in his other work, from "This is Water" and "E Unibus Pluram" to Orin Incandenza's Brief Interview style Q and A (and he would be a perfectly fitting character in that book).

The characters are some of my favorites in literary fiction as well, particularly the Incandenza family and Don Gately, and to a lesser extent Joelle Van Dyne (although Wallace typically doesn’t write female characters very well, and she comes with some issues). Hal and Gately couldn't be more different; Hal excels at everything he's ever done, and Gately has a record that includes accidental homicide on it. Hal is the hero of non-action, since little that happens in the book is engineered by him, while Gately is closer to the more typical hero of action, who defends the undeserving at great cost to himself. Yet their struggles with addiction are similar, and they both manage to be incredibly sympathetic characters. In my opinion, the book is always at its best when we’re with Hal or Gately, but I’m strongly driven by good characters. Despite being dead, James Incandenza's presence is also felt all over the book, from the Entertainment he created to his haunting ETA and sticking beds to the ceiling (probably the weirdest ghost I've ever seen in fiction). He's a tragic character in a book full of tragic characters. The others are too numerous to name, from the other tennis players at ETA and recovering addicts at Enfield, to the various bystanders populating Boston. We get brief glimpses into almost all of them, and while they may not all feel relevant at the time, most are memorable or heart-wrenching or slapstick funny, or all three. It's a book that contains multitudes.

That's not to say it's always on point though, and it isn't. There are a number of very serious problems with representation in this novel, and they're as bad as its detractors claim. A lot of the 90s humor aged very poorly, but that's not an excuse for some of the unabashedly racist depictions of African Americans, the uncharitable descriptions of Steeply's and Poor Tony's cross-dressing, or--however much I love him as a character--the fact that Mario Incandenza’s descriptions are ableist in just about every possible way. Wallace thinks he's capturing "voice" when he's really encouraging harmful stereotypes. The humor of the novel often doesn’t depend at all on these stereotypes and would in fact, be a lot more funny if I wasn’t spending so much energy cringing at it. So many of the little racist and ableist asides could have easily been edited out of the entire novel to make it less offensive. There are also sections where he seems at pains to be as gross as possible for its own sake. There are plenty of things grim or uncomfortable or flat out distasteful about this book, but sometimes the graphic violence kind of jumps out and stabs you in the eye, say, with a railroad spike.

If there are times when I was totally absorbed in the little tragedies of the Incandenza family or Gately's struggles, there are plenty more where it's like pushing something heavy up a hill. No lie, some of it is slogging through tedious minutiae and various experimental writing styles (some more successful and less offensive than others). Wallace has a gift for purposeful tedium; it’s at its peak in The Pale King, but he gives it a nice warm-up round here. The novel is difficult and meant to be, since Wallace maintained that some of the best pleasures are the ones we have to work for, and he's not totally off base. There's something very satisfying about living, for a time, in a book that spans a thousand pages, that demands focus and perseverance, and manages to give back (almost) as much as it takes. The book is always structurally interesting, but it starts to get more complicated toward the end as various characters and plots begin to almost slide into one another. I forgot how frustrating it was to near the end and realize--again--that it wasn't going to wrap up with any kind of satisfaction; the various plots slide, but they don’t meet. I thought if I paid closer attention on a second read that I would pick up more of the plot things I’d missed on my first, but I think the problem is that those answers simply aren’t to be found in the actual text. Of course, they can point us toward various conclusions, and the novel certainly encourages us to speculate and make connections, but I don’t think the actual answers are there.

That brings me to some of my final thoughts, for now. There's no doubt that this is a hugely successful book, and I believe it accomplished exactly what Wallace meant it to do. He jokingly referred to it as a failed entertainment, much the way Jim considered his lethal Entertainment a failure, but I have the sense that Wallace, unlike Jim, failed on purpose. The book purposely pays more attention to structure and theme than it does to plot or character, yet the plot and characters are hugely compelling for what we see of them. Imagine the book it could have been if he had paid equal attention to all of them. Wallace attempted to create a book that people wouldn't want to stop reading. Reaching the end certainly encourages us to begin again, as the first chapter is actually the last in chronology, but that trick only works the first time. By my second read, I realized that starting over wouldn't help me fill in any of those blanks or answer any of my questions, and I was content to let it go. On the one hand, IJ depends upon its structure to tell the story it's telling. On the other, think of the book it could have been if it spent more time telling a story and developing its characters and less time belaboring a point. It's one of the best books I've ever read, and the tragedy is that I think it could have been even better.

[briggsz]

* LUCY BOYNTON, CIS WOMAN + SHE/HER  | you know DECIMA MARNIE BRIGGS, right? they’re TWENTY-SIX, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, THEIR WHOLE LIFE ON & OFF? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to STARS ARE BLIND by PARIS HILTON like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole MUFFLED SCREAMS INTO SILK PILLOWS, GOING NUMB AFTER ICE BATHS & THE BELLYACHE YOU FEEL COMING IN SECOND PLACE thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is SEPTEMBER 15TH, so they’re a VIRGO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( b, twenty-two, gmt +3, she/her )

hellur...im back with My second baby . do i hav the brain cells 2 write them both ? no <3 bt im delusional n sexy like tht . here’s her . awful pinterest board ! hmu here or on discord if you’d like to plot . u want to plot bc u love me n decima so much . ( gentle godmod )

the much needed update: basically decima is an ex Olympic athlete tryna change her whole life n become an influencer / youtuber bc it’s all she cn do at the moment. everything she does, she gives her 110% .. doesn’t mean she succeeds either. struggles w the change bc shes so used to Living one way ( waking up @ 4 am , practicing fr 8 hrs a day , etc. ) 

ok so decima’s a new muse n if i fuck up . no i don’t <3 i’ll figure her out eventually pls dnt leave skjdhfj i lit rally tried to write this intro 3 times n i hated it each time so this is probably the Worst out of 3 bt here u go.

inspo: rachel reid (the wilds), kendall roy (succession), astrid sloan (the politician), monica geller (friends), haley keller (crawl), kat baker (spinning out), gracie hart (miss congeniality)

ok mr briggs is an ex pro-athlete n he’s the coach fr the town’s .. sports team i dont know Shit abt sports so u nod n look away 

he n his wife, alana adopted decima when she was 13 . she has two younger siblings . always felt like she cldn’t be the Responsible older sister bc had Hard time adjusting to the briggs household. not because she wasn’t welcomed, no, because she was simply trying Too damn hard. 

her life before briggs fam .. she never talks abt it , involves a deadbeat father n a teenage mother. cried for three hrs when she first called alana mom . 

thought sports would be the best way to connect with her dad, so she joined every sports club until she settled on skating . 

juggling school work n such a consuming , competitive activity .. yea ... she started to crumble under the Pressure bt asking for help ? with Tht much virgo on her chart ? nt happening </3

isolated herself from her friends n peers bc the path 2 glory is lonely .. so she thot .. 

channelled her 110% to figure skating, but something was .. missing. she no longer enjoyed skating, only did it to prove herself she cld, because her family expected her to be perfect . delusional . her parents only wanted her to be happy bt she was blinded by her ambition rip .

21, no uni degree, still skating, she met archie while on nationals.

they hit it off , for a while decima ws doing really good bc it was healthy , she had a life outside her practices , made new friends .. didn’t last for long : ) 

the highs were high n the lows .. they were . bad . ABUSE TW: he was mentally n physically abusive , decima started 2 skate more bc she just needed an escape and didn’t think of breaking up . why wld she ? she loved him , and he loved her .  : /

stayed with archie for almost 3 years, on & off. anyone cld see the damage except her .. until their last argument before The most important night of her life . TW END

she made a rookie mistake and fell while performing a quad toe loop, which was her way to the olympics. 

ironically, the death of her dream opened her eyes. she broke up with archie while she was still at the hospital, recovering from her fall

still skates , got her teaching certificate bt irving isn’t the best place to do so sdhjfk

is an influencer / youtuber . posts abt literally nothing important bt she’s using her pretty priviledge so shush

UhMMmM high pitched screams i cnt write it anymore i hate it here This makes no sense im so sorry

PERSONALITY WISE.....ok so . shes the Opposite of frederica </3 hard 2 please. finicky. aloof bt like ??? actually really warm n welcoming jst doesn’t know how to Present herself the best way .

v disciplined n sometimes feels weird abt it . as a skater it ws necessary bt now she’s only vlogging herself n posting shit online so ?? ?? cant balance idk . omg miss congeniality vibes . 

volatile .. i think .. tries 2 be nice n calm bt one off remark n she loses her shit

extremely ambitious n feels like a failure 99.9% the time rip

wears elaborate make up looks .

my body is my temple <3 vibes .... my ass

the Mom friend

cnt hold her drink . one beer n shes out

has her schedule n doesn’t like being late .

p much in l*ve with the idea of l*ve

uhm

ok so basically shes a mixture of babydoll n the jock if tht makes any sense if it doesnt . same

i hate it here

bt love her song and yes she listens to it regularly . paris follows on her insta . her biggest achievement .

[howtobeapersonwithfibro]

i have some sort of undiagnosed chronic illness, idk what but i’m thinking what i’m feeling isn’t normal at all. but, i live in an abusive household and i don’t have access to a doctors or anything. i’m 17, so legally i could go alone but my mum wouldn’t let me leave her site. idk what to do, or how i’m meant to manage this when i can’t because my mum wants me to be “normal”

I’m so sorry to hear that you have to deal with an abusive environment on top of chronic illness. I am in no way an expert on this kind of situation but I wish the best for you and hope I can help in some way. 

I would try your best to get access to a doctor if you can, but I can understand what a complicated situation that can be. If you plan to have some more separation and independence once you turn 18 (I know that’s not possible for some people - I still live with my mom at 21) that could give you an opportunity. If there’s other trusted adults in your family, school, anything like that, they might be able to help you with this.

There’s also things you can do to help yourself in the meantime. A lot of us that do have access to doctors and medications still have to do a lot at home to help ourselves feel better - and I’m sure you’re already starting to figure out what helps and what hurts with your symptoms. Make use of Google and certain tags on tumblr (chronic illness, chronic pain, spoonie) for advice on coping with your symptoms. We have a nice little community here on tumblr that is always happy to help.

Just remember that you’re not alone, and things will not be like this forever. At the very least you can always reach out to me, and hopefully there are some people in your life you can lean on, such as friends. But you won’t be stuck in this household forever. You will have it better in the future, I promise. 

Wishing you all the best and sending love. 

-Jenna <3

[ilovestevetony]

SteveTony September - Day 21

21. If you could put them in another book, TV show, comic or movie - what would it be and what would they get up to?

A FAIRYTALE!!! I already did a Snow White AU, so let’s go for a Cinderella one!

Cinderella AU

Howard and Maria were an upper-middle class marriage who had a beautiful son, Tony. When Tony was 10, Maria passed away due to a chronic illness.

After Maria’s death, Howard became an alcoholic, gambler, and abusive father. He got married again with a woman who was after his fortune but not a lot of time passed when Howard went bankrupt.

Howard had to look for a job and started traveling looking for a new opportunity. Unfortunately, he died in a car accident, leaving a 13 year old Tony with his abusive stepmother.

The woman married again with another alcoholic man who had 2 daughters. They kept Tony as a maidservant.

Time passed and Tony became a mechanic, he had a part-time job fixing cars and other machines.

One day, Rhodey, a high rank militar came to his workshop, he had a problem with his car and Tony helped him. It only took seconds for Tony and Rhodey to become friends.

One day Rhodey got an invitation to the Prince’s Birthday Royal Ball. As the Prince was part of the military, he invited some of his colleages, and one of them was Rhodey.

Rhodey invited Tony to the Ball, Tony was not sure because he had nothing to wear and he had a lot of household duties.

At the end Rhodey convinced Tony, he bought Tony a red suit, and they devised a planned so Tony could escape during the night from his house.

When they arrived to the Royal Ball Tony was amazed by Rhodey’s nice friends. He thought he was going to feel like an outsider, but they welcomed Tony as one of them.

In the second floor, Prince Steve was waiting for the first dance to start and go downstairs to open the dancefloor. He was looking at the arriving guests, when suddenly he saw a beautiful young man in a red suit outstanding from the rest of the people. He didn’t think it twice to approach and invite him for the opening dance.

Tony looked at the Prince, he was even more beautiful in person. He blushed when Steve invited him to dance and kissed his hand to lead him to the dancefloor.

They danced all night long until they were tired. They went to a private balcony and talked the rest of the night until Tony’s cellphone alarm rang at exactly 12 am.

Tony freaked out, it was too late and he had to go back home before his step parents find out he wasn’t there.

Quickly, Tony stood up and left Steve confused, he looked for Rhodey so he could drive him home.

Steve instinctively started following Tony, he needed to know how to contac him, at least his name!! Before Tony could leave the palace, Steve was able to hold him from the arm. Steve asked if there was something wrong. Tony said no, but he had to leave now. In that moment Tony’s phone rang again, he tried to get his phone but in a quick move Rhodey hold him from the other hand and pulled him out of the party.

Steve was about to follow when one of the guards stopped him. Steve was upset until he looked at the floor and noticed Tony’s phone on the floor.

When Tony arrived to his house, everything was dark and quiet, he thought his step family was sleeping, but he was so wrong. The living room light turned on, his step parents were looking at him with so much hatred that if looks could kill he would have been dead in that precise moment.

They beat Tony, leaving his face completely shattered. And after that they locked him in the basement.

The day after the party, Steve was determined find te beautiful young man in a red suit, but the only clue he had was a broken cellphone. Steve tried to unlock it but it was imposible, it was a useless clue… Until the broken cellphone started receiving texts from “Platypus" asking “Did they caught you?” “Is everything alright?” “Tones?” “Are you alright?” “Tony?!” “Is it safe to call you?!”

Steve worried about the texts, yes, now he knew the name of his beloved, but those texts were alarming in some way. Why would it be safe or not to call Tony?!

Steve didn’t take an eye off the phone until it rang. Steve answered and he recognize his voice, it was Colonel James Rhodes. Steve asked him about where to find Tony, and Rhodey told him where he lived, but he warned him about Tony’s step parents.

Steve decided to make a visit to Tony’s house (Rhodey went with him). When Steve arrived, Tony’s step parents were surprised, in shock not expecting to see Prince Steve there. The Prince asked them about Tony, but they told him he didn’t live there.

Rhodey was mad, he didn’t believe hem, so he started yelling Tony’s name, and suddenly they heard some noise coming from the basement. Steve ordered to open the door, and they didn’t have a choice but to obey the Prince.

When they opened the door, Tony tried to walked and almost felt down but Steve caught him. He looked at Tony, he was all beaten, purple eye, broken nose, and torn lip. Steve was furious, he was going to report them for home abuse jail for sure!

Steve asked Tony to live with him in the palace, he promise to take care of him and give him everything he needed. Tony thought it might look like he taking advantage of the situation if he accepted Steve’s offer, so he declined.

Steve understood his point of view, and taking into account they just met a few nights ago, the best option for Tony was to live with Rhodey for a while.

After a couple of months of dating, Steve asked Tony to marry him. Tony didn’t think it twice to say yes and have his happily ever after!!!!

I think I should have written an actual fanfic 😅😅😅

Well I hope at least you like this ✨

And if someone wants to write the fic with more detail, feel free to do it and let me know! 😂💗

[naivefrenzy-a]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  001 :   THE OUTSIDE .

NAME :    Suzanne May Colson ( Susie )

EYE  COLOUR :   Green. BRIGHT GREEN

HAIR  STYLE   /   COLOUR :   Long bouncy curls, naturally blonde, but dyed bright pink for the most part.

HEIGHT :   5′2″

CLOTHING  STYLE :   Pastel Grunge.

BEST  PHYSICAL  FEATURE : Her big green eyes and long delicate lashes. Many state that she looks like a doll, or a disney princess.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  002 :  THE INSIDE .

FEARS :  Autophobia – The fear of being alone.

GUILTY  PLEASURE :  watching romantic comedies

BIGGEST  PET  PEEVE : Being treated like she’s STUPID because she’s NICE   

AMBITIONS  FOR  THE  FUTURE :   Get out of Ormond and become an artist.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  003 :  THOUGHTS .

FIRST  THOUGHTS  WAKING  UP : “ I miss you, mom..”

WHAT  THEY  THINK  ABOUT  MOST :   Her Friends/Her Legion, and her mother ( lovingly )

WHAT  THEY  THINK  ABOUT  BEFORE  BED :  “ I wish I didn’t have to sleep alone here..”

WHAT  THEY  THINK  THEIR  BEST  QUALITY  IS :  Her ability to smile and continue to be kind, even though her life makes it very hard to be nice sometimes.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  004 :   WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE  OR  GROUP  DATES :   single dates unless you’re dating the whole group.( couldn’t put it any better way tbh?? )

TO  BE  LOVED  OR  RESPECTED :   to be loved, because she doesn’t think she’s worthy of respect.

BEAUTY  OR  BRAINS :   Brains. ( she is pretty cute tho )

DOGS  OR  CATS :   Both, but she does have a pet cat, Jinx.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  005 :DO THEY …

LIE :   More than she would like to, but she only lies about the abuse she suffers at home unless she is told to lie ( mostly by Frank ).

BELIEVE  IN  THEMSELVES :   Not really.

BELIEVE  IN  LOVE :   Completely, she’s just afraid she’ll never have REAL love.

WANT  SOMEONE :   She WANTS more than one person.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  006 :HAVE THEY EVER …

BEEN  ON  STAGE :   Yes.

DONE  DRUGS :   Yes. But she only still smokes pot. 

CHANGED  WHO  THEY  WERE  TO  FIT  IN :   She has, but only for Frank/Julie and to fit in better with THE LEGION.

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  007 :   FAVOURITES .

FAVOURITE  COLOUR :   Pale and Neon PINKS.

FAVOURITE  ANIMAL :   Common Household Animal would be a cat, but no domesticated would be racoons.

FAVOURITE  BOOK :   She loved the STEPHEN KING novel THE SHINING 

FAVOURITE  GAME :   Mario Kart 64

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  008 :   AGE .

DAY  THEIR  NEXT  BIRTHDAY  WILL  BE :   October 27th

HOW  OLD  WILL  THEY  BE :   She’s 18 - 21 (verse dependent) so, 19 - 21?

𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍  009 :   FINISH THE SENTENCE .

I LOVE :   Laying out under the stars all night, listening to our favorite songs.

I  FEEL :   Unloved, Alone, & Scared. 

I  HIDE :   From James / From the World

I  MISS :  My Mom.

I  WISH :   To find love and to get away from this place.

tagged by: @filthysmile

tagging: @unwilling-survivor , @jonbyers , @entitytcken , @madgrt , & you!