#like ive done every single sin in the book or something

[juno-saturna]

misery

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 1,542

Warnings | +18, smut dubcon(?), somnophilia, pussy worship, pussy eating, tongue fucking, fingering, male masturbation, Jungkook is desperately horny, cumming on her, body worship, breast/nipples worship, explicit language and descriptions, kidnapping, Jungkook is absolutely obsessed, this is not for minors.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Third chapter of Happy Ending arrived, enjoy your reading, my dears 🥰❤

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

That same night, a shadow wandered around the young woman's apartment. It had not been difficult to get there, as he had already thought, those windows were too old and easy to force, he could not allow Y/N to live in such a place. If a novice like him had managed to open the window facing the kitchen so quickly, then an experienced thief would have been able to do even better. He looked around, scrutinizing every nook and cranny, being very careful not to make any noise, noticed a pizza box on the table, with Coke cans scattered around, was very careful not to step on a single one - mentally cursing at the girl's mess - and headed for what he guessed was her room.

He opened the door slightly, which squeaked faintly because of rust, but that was not enough to wake the girl who lived in the apartment. Y/N must have been a very heavy sleeper, the boy thought. Jungkook was there for one simple reason, to take Y/N away and make her live a better life with him. Normally an art professor would not have made that much money, but professor was not his only job, he thought with a grin. The school's principal, Kim Seokjin, had his hands in everything, and someone like Jungkook was right for him. He then looked around, studying the environment to get an idea about his beloved's tastes, finding a variety of references to anime and manga, as well as books and flowers. Nothing that hinted at a passion for fashion, but of that Jungkook did not worry, he would see to it that she was dressed cute and perfect, just for the pleasure of his eyes.

Reaching just to one side of the single bed, he stared at Y/N sleeping blissfully with only part of the blanket to give her warmth, the tender lower lip protruded invitingly and Jungkook felt the urge to squeeze it between his teeth, tasting its softness. He shivered slightly when he took a flap of the blanket, pulling it aside. He slowly uncovered Y/N's body, revealing something that made the man's brain go haywire. Y/N slept in only a tank top and panties even in winter. It was a comfortable habit for the girl, but for Jungkook it was like a wedding invitation, literally. His eyes did not break away from the bare skin in the slightest while enough light filtered through the window to make that vision heavenly for him.

He slowly knelt down, a hand flew within inches of her calves, he did not know whether to touch her that way or not, she was not conscious, it would not be right, would it? The boy found himself gritting his teeth, it would only be a caress, a gentle caress. He gently laid his fingers on one calf, held his breath at the smooth sensation of her skin against his fingertips and continued with the slow ascent, felt his lips dry up when, having reached her knee, Y/N decided of her own volition to spread her leg wide, leaving a wide view of her intimacy covered by the blue panties, at which point Jungkook's blood concentrated in one spot. He took that sign as a Y/N response to continue. He climbed onto the bed gently, positioning himself right on top of the young woman, his hand opening on her inner thigh, the softest and most tender part of her leg, felt that buttery texture under his fingers and did the same with the other, thus bringing both legs apart for him, he sent down watering at that scene so erotic that it nearly drove him mad.

He felt powerful as never before in his life, he could do anything he wanted to her and she would continue to sleep blissfully. The young girl's tightly closed eyelids cast lash shadows across her cheeks, she was so serene in sleep that Jungkook found her enchanting, so much so that he leaned over her, stealing a sweet kiss on her cheek, in love with that pure little fairy of his. His. He watched for a possible reaction, but she continued to sleep. Not content, he descended lower, to the tender breasts enclosed in that wide camisole, lifted the pale fabric finding himself face to face with what, he knew, would become his favorite damnation, studied with hungry eyes the perfect color of those still soft and relaxed little buttons, barely touching with a finger the velvety, graceful circle of an areola. He trapped the tender nipple with his lips, sucking it tenderly inside his warm, moist mouth, felt it plump under the strokes of his tongue and found himself nibbling on it without too much pressure, sending small, sweet twinges to the young girl's sleeping body. Y/N, for her part, turned her head slightly, opening her mouth slightly in a moan that her brain could not fully register.

Jungkook cupped the other breast, stimulating it with the tip of a finger, squeezing it lightly before devoting his mouth to it as well, and the more he engulfed that tender flesh, the more his cock throbbed uninterruptedly in search of its dose of forbidden caresses. A pop resounded from the room as he let go of his grip on the young girl's now abused nipple, went down with moist kisses all along the girl's chest, with his sweet prey's breathing rising in response, thus reaching the lower abdomen licking a small trail around her navel, moaning silently at the taste of that skin that he would also have gladly bitten into, but he could not risk waking the girl up in the midst of his fun, so he merely descended lower and lower, reaching to the fabric of her panties. With the tip of his nose he pressed against her covered pussy, ecstatically inhaling the natural scent of her essence, he felt himself salivating and his own boxers got a little wet, he pressed his erection against the mattress moving slightly to give himself some relief, not satisfied he peeled back the fabric of the panties and almost thought he would come there on the spot. The rosy flesh of the folds opened under the pressure of his index finger, revealing the swollen clitoris and the sweet slit from which sweet transparent liquid was already leaking.

Jungkook gave a long lick that from the young woman's narrow entrance reached up to her clitoris, encircling it with the tip in a tender and insistent caress; on another occasion the boy would have cried out in the most bewitching pleasure, but he forced himself to enjoy that taste in silence. Y/N unknowingly thrust his hips into the man's ravenous mouth in a soft, slow rhythm that delighted Jungkook. That to him was the ultimate proof that the girl accepted his intimate attentions without regret. He used two fingers to stimulate the young woman's lit and pulsating clitoris, continuing with the tip of his tongue to penetrate the tight and wet slit, sucking the small quivering lips together with the unconscious girl's legs, continuing to poke and pull at that pearl now stiff and ready to explode between his index finger and thumb, teasing the soft flesh ever more insistently. "Mm... Ah...!" the girl's back arched slightly, exposing more and more of her intimacy to the boy, her body tried to keep up with that forbidden pleasure, in her mind Y/N was dreaming, dreaming of Jungkook and in her dream the boy was doing to her just what the real Jungkook was joyfully enacting in reality.

He willingly swallowed the young girl's fluids with yet another tongue caress, then replaced his fingers with the latter, cradling the pulsating clitoris in velvety lashings, penetrating the now-soaked entrance with his fingertips, the girl rigidly propped her feet up on the mattress, opening her mouth wide and frowning in a shrill howl, which was prolonged when her clitoris succumbed to extreme pleasure following a light bite from the boy, his teeth weakly crushing that taut pearl, now at the 'extreme and that gesture was enough to release its violent contained pleasure. Jungkook detached himself from Y/N's quivering body, lowering his pants and boxer shorts, took his already dripping cum cock in his hand and leaned over Y/N beginning to pump himself several times, ran his thumb over the scarlet tip increasing the speed of his thrusts, before pouring out a large amount of cum with a choked cry, smearing the girl's breasts and panties with the sticky white liquid. He looked at his work of art with devotion and affection, stroking his cock in an attempt not to let up again on those gentle discharges of pleasure, until it became completely soft again. He adjusted his clothes, retrieving tissues from the girl's bedside table to wipe off his semen, silently praying that the sweet, spicy taste of Y/N would never disappear from his tongue.

God, he would have taken her again and again on that bed, but he shook his head to himself , Y/N deserved better and wanted her awake when it happened. He wanted her to see with her own eyes how much love he would be able to give her.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Three-song playlist

Rules: Compile three-song playlists for as many OCs as you can/would like to

thank you @dujour13 for the tag!!

under a read more bc I'm doing all of them<3 and taking a leaf out of your book and doing three for Celia and Cecios sibling relationship too!

if anyone hasn't been tagged and wants to do it, take this as a tag!

Mura

Dangerous

Are you dangerous? With your measure of proof Thoughts are slivers of gold Abscond with the truth

How does it feel To be your own deceiver? Signals raised Then lost to the aether

Los Ageless

In Los Ageless, the winter never comes In Los Ageless, the mothers milk their young But I can keep running No, I can keep running The Los Ageless hang out by the bar Burn the pages of unwritten memoirs But I can keep running No, I can keep running

Red Right Hand

He'll wrap you in his arms, tell you that you've been a good boy He'll rekindle all the dreams it took you a lifetime to destroy He'll reach deep into the hole, heal your shrinking soul, but there won't be a single thing that you can do

Georgie

I Chose the Road

i dont ask for riches to furnish my days, when ive got the dawn and the soft evening haze so i chose the road, oh for me a life of being born to be slow, the green hills in the distance are calling me home, oh for me a life, of being born to be slow under the open sky

my convictions are strong and my vision i true, ive bowed to no man and i'll not kneel to you a life in your pocket is a life behind bars, but out here by my fire you can see all the stars

If I Ever Found Love

[i haven't transcribed this song yet]

Winter Mist

among the silent oaks a ragged army of free hearted folk stand against you armed only with what is true your power is obsolete no more of you need come through

traitors! how dare you come here to break this place? you'll die alone with your empty eyes your kids will leave you as you left them with the end of times

Celia

Insight

Guess your dreams always end. They don't rise up just descend, But I don't care anymore, I've lost the will to want more, I'm not afraid not at all, I watch them all as they fall, But I remember when we were young.

Training Montage

I'm doing this for revenge I am doing this to try and stay true I'm doing this for the ones We had to leave behind, I'm doing this for you I'm doing this for you

Volatile Times

I drove through countries like a marching funeral In the search of fools and utopias Along the lonely roads with all the empty human souls Filling their heavy hearts With slum religion and Coca-Cola Every book is read and I'm paralyzed Every fist is clenched, but I'm so tired

Goodbye my friends Goodbye to the money Adieu to the fuckers that think that it's funny I just want to turn the lights on in these volatile times

Cecio

Adam Raised a Cain

All of the old faces Ask you why you're back They fit you with position And the keys to your daddy's Cadillac

You're born into this life paying For the sins of somebody else's past

Now he walks these empty rooms looking for something to blame But you inherit the sins, you inherit the flames

Open the Gate

So open the gates I'm here to prove I'm better than my father was And where he came from too Open the gates I'm here to ride To Hell I Go With daddy by my side

And I ain't never feared nothing That was four-legged and bucking Throw me on a hurricane And I'll ride it to the coast You'll never know that your son Came to do what you should've done On a summer day a long time ago Top a bull named To Hell I Go

Good Boy

I never promised affection Don't tell me what this is I've got so much to give I've got so much to give

'Cause I'm a good boy I'm here to help you out out of your clothes and into self doubt

Celia & Cecio

Children's Work

But I've learned how to paint my face How to earn my keep How to clean my kill Some nights I still can't sleep The past rolls back, I can see us still You've learned how to hold your own How to stack your stones But the history's thick Children aren't as simple As we'd like to think

Adam Raised a Cain

We were prisoners of love, a love in chains He was standin' in the door I was standin' in the rain With the same hot blood burning in our veins

Insight

Yeah we wasted our time, We didn't really have time, But we remember when we were young.

And all God's angels beware, And all you judges beware, Sons of chance, take good care, For all the people not there, I'm not afraid anymore

[gaygwenpool]

give me literally All Headcanon for that post for Mysterio p l e a s e (also, for the one of my choosing, whether or not you hc he commentates movies while watching them or insists on ABSOLUTE SILENCE)

:D!!! my sweet boy, BLESS you nonnie! 

◉ whether or not you hc he commentates movies while watching them or insists on ABSOLUTE SILENCE IS A FANTASTIC QUESTION IVE BEEN LITERALLY LAUGHIN ABOUT IT ALL DAY THANK YOU

   Both actually! if you try to comment on the plot or react to an actor, immediately you get rudely shushed with the most scorching glare because how DARE you, focus on the ~ART~ you heathen!!! but also the Moment a slightly more advanced special effect takes place, he is all hoppin on his seat excitedly explaining how it’s done and how genius that is, how would he improve on it and how another movie dealt with it, the dialogue for the big plot reveal goin on the screen be damned :’D Also as the movie advances, he starts gettin more and more into long passionate rants either complaining about the lack/surfeit of respect the creators got, how arrogant this one actor is and how he doesnt respect his cues and so on….. lots of the stuff he says is actually pretty interesting but yeah, if you counted on just enjoying the movie, tough luck 

   He really likes watchin movies with people but prefers to see the movie first on his own at least once, to really focus on it. Often, he will watch a movie in the livin room while others do their own thing and he will comment on the good scenes, however if you agreed to actually watch somethin with him and got distracted during screening or worse, was on your phone?? you are dead to him. (and you can expect some …unpleasant surprises in the upcoming days)   

im gonna put the rest under the readmore cuz this is gettin long ^^;;

[ask meme]

☾ - sleep headcanon

Beck is the UGLIEST sleeper, he is the worst. He snores loudly, drools, moves, KICKS, mumbles and has the most vivid wildest dreams. (it happens rarely but sometimes he’ll dream about somethin, wake up and for a while be convinced it actually happened, you know like when you dream about arguing with your friend and being mad at them the next day etc) On the other hand, sometimes, all his features relax, he loses the scowl and looks surprisingly peaceful and happy… oh and he hogs the blanket.  

His sleep schedule is a fuckin mess, he is able to go like the whole week on few hours of sleep total when he is workin on a project but other days he gets grumpy if he doesnt get his 10h of beauty sleep every night.. 

★ - sad headcanon

uhhh i dont actually have much sad stuff for this boy yet, he brings me so much joy that i dont have the heart for that :’’’D (also i like him and chameleon team ups and Dmitri brings enough angst to the table for the both of them)

He really actually died that one time and went to hell (though in Patchwork, im not gonna keep everythin about that Daredevil plot, i really like Mysti being dangerous and actually a worthy opponent but most of it was too fucked up for my tastes…) and well… it wasnt great :’D  it mostly targeted his insecurities about his own talent he buried so deep he almost stopped believing them, the lack of respect and recognition and him willingly throwing away any chance he had at those by becoming Mysterio and of course everything that happened with his ex Brick Johnson…

☆ - happy headcanon

blease consider: autistic Quentin !!!!!!

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

he doesnt have a hair trigger temper like Ock or Electro but Damn does this boy holds grudges over literally everything :’D lots of overcomplicated, carefully crafted revenge plots just for eating the last yogurt in the fridge… He gets frustrated easily, getting snappy and rude, especially if people are not listening to him, but it’s often about the pettiest things, the bigger stuff doesnt affect him as much.  

He doesnt enjoy violence for the sake of violence but he is not above it either, everythin is allowed for his big performance…… he can be quite a good n friendly boss if you listen to his orders and work well but can just as much set you up to die in an explosion, all while smiling and patting you on the back… 

✿ - Sex headcanon

my Mysterio is gay as hell but also somewhere on the ace spectrum… not sex-repulsed but definitely not a high drive either (he feels oddly smug about that, like look at those fools trying to get into each others’ pants, how pathetic, *I* in the meantime have time for things that Truly matter, like recreating every Xmen battle ever with only straws and gum.) 

■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

listen, i basically grew up on those “the entire villain team lives in a single place - shenanigans ensue” fics so im not givin up on the Sinister Six HQ, okay. (Chameleon usually finds them a suitable house with enough rooms, as luxurious as their current fonds allow, and he prides himself in putting in lil personal touches that he knows the sin six members would enjoy, for Quentin it’s often very obscure movies, rare memorabilia from his favorite ones, stuff for his illusions, a stolen Oscar…) 

 When these are unavailable (aka superheroes got them busted) or when he aint in the middle of a crime job, he usually stays at one of the Cham’s safehouses (with or without him) and in a few of them, he already has his own dedicated room with some of his fav old tricks on display. Speakin of which, he has a BIG warehouse with most of his setups and stages or at least models. He doesnt really plan on reusing them but he likes having them all together 

♡ - romantic headcanon

((jakjgkfajga im a loser and ended up shippin him with Chameleon and everythin i’ve thought off so far is EMBARRASSING AND CHEESY AS FUCK :’’’’D so im gonna leave those for another time))

Beck being an Extra Bitch he is, lives for the Big Romantic Gestures like in the movies and he often gets so caught up in the prep he.. kinda disregards the person he was makin it for, the making of the effect means more for him than  the actual sentiment behind it… 

(ok maybe One mysteleon hc, while it pains him, Quentin knows Chammy Would Not Enjoy being a target of such grand display… he gotta be more subtle, creating a scene where he could play in disguise and dupe some superheroes mayhaps…) 

♥ - family headcanon

like 99% of the villains and their grandma, his family wasnt great, mum left when he was very young with another guy, his dad considered his passion for movies a great waste of time and let lil Quentin know how disappointed he was at every occasion both vocally and physically.. After the first few broken models and ripped tapes with stop animations that took weeks to complete, Quentin stopped tryin to impress and convince his father about the greatness of special effects.. He joined a boxing club and learnt some other martial arts but as soon as he could, he left to join a proper film school which led to his father dropping both financing and all contact with him. 

☮ - friendship headcanon

Im not even gonna start about Chameleon’s and Mysterio’s friendship because that shit is canon and i cry about it on a daily basis. 

Despite his penchant for Dramatics, the constant Need for Validation and Backstabbing and other Throwing Shit in the Fan just cuz it was narratively better, Quentin actually has quite a few friends? He gets along quite well with everyone from the Sin Six and many other villains and even has some ‘normie’ pals from the film industry or just neighborhood… 

One of his most surprising is actually Doc Ock with whom he gets along even outside of business partners/partners in crime basis. Though maybe not so surprising, Mysterio is quite vocal with his praises when he feels like they are deserved and Doc as well actually admires and recognizes Beck’s talent while it is still enough specific for him not to feel threatened in his superiority (once he tried to improve them and show them to Quentin with his usual arrogance and flair and that was the biggest fight they ever had and they werent on speaking terms for a loooong while after that… Oct cant stand not having the last word so he still modified some of Mysterio’s tricks even after that but he actually cares about their friendship enough to not tell Mysti about it.. Not like he would ever admit that to Quentin’s fishbowl face) 

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

like 99% of everythin Mysti does is Somehow related to special effects/film or the Drama in general but my boy is a nerd in general, theater, books, comics, manga, roleplaying games, you name it. He especially likes flashy stuff obviously. 

He really enjoys learning new techniques and figuring out how to make something happen. When he was younger, he was viciously against CGI but later he started to sorta respect it as its own category that needs talent and effort… he still prefers to use the traditional techniques of course :’D (…as traditional as HYPNOTIZING PEOPLE WITH NEURAL GAZ IS) 

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

He has a very Complicated relationship with the film industry……. on the one hand, he loves the behind the scenes, the rush, the Action…. but on the other hand, he hates it with a fiery passion, everythin from how you get treated like dirt and the pretentious prizes being awarded just for the Big names and hollywood and everythin turning around the money an-…., he has a very long list and it is alphabetized. (While he has a point for many of those complaints, the fact HE himself never got any pretentious award remains probably the main issue…) 

he absolutely despises people making fun of D-grade shitty movies in the “this shitty horror is so cheesy and dumb it’s funny and i love it” way, either because the people workin on it were good and trying their best but the money or the producers etc ruined it (his experience) and then it’s an unfair critique or because the creators just didnt try hard enough and that’s even worse in his books and this movie should not get Any Attention much less a positive one.. 

he likes complaining and being snarky :’D he enjoys the challenge Spidey sets for them and loves playing tag with him (even when he loses..) He loves the prep before his big shows both alone or with help, the adrenalin when actually pulling it off and when he discusses it with Cham in details. He lives for the applause and recognition and ~Fame~ 

▼ - childhood headcanon

not as much as hc as adopting the Webspinners’ aproach: he spent most of his childhood daydreaming, hiding himself behind the stories and special effects….. not many friends aside from Betsy but he didnt really need them, he wanted audience not pals.. In the film school he started to be more social and communicative, he met Brick there and they started goin out… 

∇ -. old age/aging headcanon

hhhhh im conflicted, there are like 3 comics where Q is retired because he has enough of superheroes beating him up and he Really doesnt want to go back to it.. I cant see him actually givin up on it totally tho… idk idk

♒ - cooking/food headcanon

Like with sleep, it oscillates wildly. He can forget to eat when he is hypefocusin on a particular project (one single chip suffices as nourishment) or he just subsides on ramen for a month but on the other hand he is quite a capable cook. Nothing Extraordinary but he can make enough diverse simple meals. When livin with Chammy, they both enjoy eating out so they do that as much as the budget allows (so not that much, illusions arent cheap…) 

☼ - appearance headcanon

im still thinkin about that one post that described Quentin as a “toenail of a man” and i couldnt agree more :’D very short, pig nose, hairstyle à la Spock, stocky built and weirdly beefy, like this guy’s thigh is bigger than some heads… (for a nerd he is surprisingly strong what the fuck) 

All Mysterios are Good Mysterios but my preferred ones have a bigass ROUND fishbowl, the longest cape and somethin as a belt, preferably sash.. 

ൠ - random headcanon

he actually isnt….. that great of an actor nor director nor creator………………….. (im sorry baby i love you but it’s tru….) he unconsciously copies a lot of stuff he has seen elsewhere, he follows overused tropes, his work is packed with cliches and cheesy over the top pathos… his special effects mastery n creativity with workin out his illusions is absolutely INCREDIBLE dont get me wrong, it’s just… the plot/ideas……..  at first he lived in denial about this still believing 100% his work is Wonderful and Perfect and he is just a misunderstood author… later he decided to embrace it and he is livin the life now :D

[simplyyeol]

broken | i

genre: slice of life! AU, angst, fluff

pairing: park chanyeol x reader

word count: 3.5k

author’s note: dfskfhhfhsfh, I rewrote broken because I felt like I didn’t do my man enough good. There will be a part 2 of this so I hope you enjoy. Please do comment about what you think will happen or what you think I could do better! I love reading all of your feedback! Thank you :))

Your gentle footsteps were the only thing that echoed throughout the empty hallway as you made your way to God knows where. Well you knew where, anywhere but the empty and lifeless room that you were always locked up in. The incessant beeping from the machines surrounding you, drove you crazy and the steady dripping of the IV made you want to rip your hair out.

You had barely escaped when the nurse that usually came to monitor you had left for whatever emergency reason. It wouldn’t be long before you were noticed to be gone and taken back. However, you knew that this was a priceless moment, and you should treasure it as if it was gold. You should treasure it with your life because that means that maybe you can actually live your own.

You wanted to be able to escape this prison at least once, you wanted to at least live your life once. It was if you were a prisoner locked up behind bars, and yet you had done nothing wrong. You were not guilty, but you were still the accused. You had been here for most of your life and you wanted out. You wanted to escape from this hell that was your life. You wanted to escape and finally live the live that you never had. You wanted to do what everyone else did, what normal people did. There were so many things that you had never done that you wished to do.

You never had a childhood that everyone else at school talked about when you sat down at your usual table for lunch. You had never gone to your friend’s birthday party and eat cake until your stomach was about to burst. You had never broken your arm and cried for your mom. You had never learned to ride a bike on the streets of your neighborhood with your parents right behind you, making sure you were safe and screaming words of encouragement to get you going. You never had family game nights where laughter and happiness filled the air. You had never had a big Thanksgiving dinner where you saw your aunt’s neighbor’s boyfriend’s friend’s cousin’s niece’s best friend. You never got to go Black Friday shopping with your mother and had to regret it the next day after you came home with worn out feet. You had never done anything that a normal kid had done.

Why? Because apparently you weren’t a normal kid. Everyone around you had acted as if you were a fragile diamond, that if touched, would be shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, too small to even be picked up and glued back together. You were a someone that was different, not normal, and could never have a normal life. Just because of one thing. You didn’t even like mentioning it because even though you acknowledged it and knew it was the truth, the weight would come knocking you down even harder if you said it loud, because then, and only then, would be the time that you would have to accept the fact. The fact that you are going to die, and you didn’t have much time left.

You guessed that no one normal would know the real pain of being terminally ill. At least no one around you. Not many people knew the actual pain that you did. No one could connect with you, no one would be able to empathize with your once-in-a-lifetime situation.

With billions of other people in the world and statistics showing tens of thousands of people with the same illness as you, you had yet to cross amongst someone like yourself. Someone who was closed off from the world by their parents to be ‘protect from the harsh world,’ when the reality was that they were never protecting you, just making sure that you could never see the good in this world. Because then you would start to get greedy and ask for things that could never be obtained by someone like you. Not only was your physical health getting worse, but your mental health, from all the things you never experienced as a child, as a teenager, as a young adult, as a human.

The ever knowing fact that you were going to die in a few months had never helped your mental health as well. Oh how you wished all your problems would go away. Holed up in the mental ward and having multiple doctors and nurses swarm over you like bees in honey whenever one little thing goes wrong was too much. Having to be monitored over every little thing that occurs in your small and blank room when nothing ever really happened

It made you want to throw yourself of a cliff and scream from joy after finally being able to be free. Of finally being able to escape from this place. It made you want to throw a knife into every single one of their hearts, if that’s what it meant for them to stop treating you as someone different, as someone broken. You would do anything for everyone to stop looking at you with that look. They were all the same. None of them looked at you like an actual human being. None of them looked at you with actual emotions from the bottom of their heart. None of them looked at you as an equal, but instead you were a person lower then them. You were someone that they would pay no mind, only acting as if they cared, when in reality, they didn’t give a shit.

You looked at your barren feet as with each step they took, they made a small padding sound against the cold tile floor.

You wished that you could be as loud as just only your footsteps. Even if they were in small amount, they were still audible. People could still hear them. Unlike you. No one ever heard you, but then again, that is also partly your fault. You couldn’t only blame everyone around you for the way your living your life. It wasn’t only them, it was you also.

You weren’t a very extroverted person as a whole. Sure, when you got closer to someone, you became more comfortable with them and you could talk with them for hours on end. But you never could feel that connection that other people do. When you first meet a person, do you immediately think that that person is your best friend? Do most people just another person based on their looks? Their clothing? Their style? From what you have seen, this is true.

Society always said to never judge a book by its cover when in reality, that is human nature. That is just how we as humans behave. When we see a person, we immediately judge them, criticize them, and look at them a different way if they are a ‘type’ of person they wouldn’t like.

So when people saw you, they would think that you were some ill patient and that they should just feel sorry for whoever had to take care of you, they should feel pity for you because you weren’t normal. They should feel pity for you because you were sick. And all this time you never said anything about it. You never criticized them back, saying that their sense of fashion was horrible or if their shoes were fake. And that was a mistake.

Your life was the outcome of both you and the people around you’s fault. You couldn’t put the blame on just one person when in reality it took more then one head to actually do something, to actually make an impact, whether it be good or bad.

It was your own introverted self’s fault for not speaking up for yourself in the times when you needed it. It was your own fault when people judged you and walked away while you let them. You let them get away because of your cowardly thoughts. Because you were scared that they would put you in some place worse then the barren white walls surrounding you. This was the part that you mistook.

There couldn’t possibly be a place that is worse then here. There couldn’t possibly be a place like this, unless it was hell itself. A place where no good memories can occur. A place where you are trapped. A place where there is a ticking bomb right next to you, counting down the days until You day. A place where the only thing people wish for is one more day of life. A place where death is the norm.

Wouldn’t it be better for the universe to just let you die already? Haven’t they put you through enough misery for one person’s lifetime? You always wondered why the universe put you through this hell? Would you be rewarded in the next life? Could you have done many sins in your past life? Had one of your ancestors done an unforgiving deed saying that one of their predecessors would compensate? What did you do, to make you deserve a life like this?

What did you do, that made you different from everyone else? What did you do, to make yourself into someone so horrible? What did you do, to make your life torture, when all you wanted was a life filled with bliss and happiness? What did you do to make you deserve all of this?

You wanted to climb to the top of Mt. Everest and scream in the loudest voice possible, all your miseries, all your insecurities, all the people that had wronged you, all the things that went wrong in your life. Everything that occured that you wished you could change. Everything that had happened that you wished had never token place during your life. And finally, when everything had been lifted off your chest, and you could finally feel free, and for once in your lifetime, not have a single worry in the world, that would be when you took that glorious leap of faith, and finally spread your wings and fly.

Maybe you should take matters into your own, small and undeserving hands. Maybe you should actually take that leap of faith into a better world and hope for the best. Maybe then you could join the rest of your loved ones instead of suffering in this cruel, cruel world.

You were undeserving of this life, but maybe your next could turn out better. That is, if the superiors believed that they had tortured you enough. With everything that had been going on, you could probably be going directly to the Devil for the past sins that you have done, if you had done any at all that is, if this was all really your fault.

The world is a cruel place to live in. They could’ve just been doing that to play with you. As if you were their puppet to play with. As if your misery brought them happiness, brought them joy, brought them entertainment.

The mere thought of this made you fume. Who do they think they are? How high in power were they, for them to be doing this to you for this long and how did they have not even a shred of humanity in them? If they really made us, why torture some and give the rest a newly built playground for them to enjoy? Why discriminate some and favor others? What did those people have that we didn’t? What was so much better about them, that we were thrown to the side and stomped all over in return?

You just couldn’t wrap your mind around a reason, a reason as to why? It just didn’t make sense, why was your life like this? But then again, maybe it’s just because. Just because.

Your plain hospital gown brushed the sides of your thighs as you made your way down the hallway to Neverland. You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve gotten this far, maybe you could even get out of this hellhole. But you knew that you would eventually have to come back. If you didn’t, you could say goodbye to your life. But then again, that didn’t sound too bad.

However when you think it over, it didn’t sound like a good way to send yourself off. You would basically be torturing yourself to death. Suffocating yourself until you stop breathing, until your death. You would rather it be your own choice rather then not. You would rather it be over in a second then for it take it’s time. You didn’t want to torture yourself any longer. You’ve had enough of playing someone else’s games for a lifetime. You’ve had enough of that forever.

Your moments with only you and your thoughts had finally came to an end when a, let’s say, minor accident, occurred.

Both you and another person had collided into each other, sending you both tumbling to the floor and you wondering why can’t you ever pay attention to anything. Everywhere you went, you fell, you tripped, you stumbled, it made you seem even more pitiful. Why can’t you ever watch where your going?

A groan made its way out of your mouth as pain erupted through your left side. It felt as if you’ve been stabbed with a knife and then plowed over by a truck. Yes, it really did hurt that bad. Your head felt dizzy from the pain, but you endured it. This was nothing compared to all the shit you’ve been through before.

You clenched your teeth and shifted a little so your left side was not in contact with the cool floor. That side had had a surgery done on it a mere few weeks ago which resulted in throbbing type of pain when you weren’t even doing anything. It still hadn’t healed and you were sure that a few stitches might’ve reopened from your fall. You were about to accuse the person who made this happen to you, but immediately closed your mouth as another shot of pain made its way through your side.

You felt a hand on your shoulder for comfort and heard a muffled voice trying to talk to you while shaking you in attempt for you to stay conscious. You heard a few words and made out what he said, something along the lines of ‘are you okay?’

You might as well make them not worry. The last thing you needed for them to do was call a nurse after panicking. Without opening your eyes, you gave a small nod from the direction you heard the voice come from and attempted to get up from the ice cold of the floor that sent shivers up your spine, hoping that they had heard your unspoken message. 

The lights above you blinded your sight and hindered your attempt. When you finally managed to crack your eyes open,  you caught a quick glimpse of the person kneeling in front of you with worry etched all over his face.

Your eyes widened when he scrambled up to his full height, and turned around searching for something, no someone, a nurse. You realized this as he was about to leave and made to tug on his hand with as much force as you could muster in your pained state.

If the nurses came to you because he called them, you would never be able to forgive him and your own self. This was the one chance you had to get a precious breath of air and it would all be taken away if even a peep came out of his mouth and attracted the attention of the staff who would be around. Your goal to get out of this damn hospital would be demolished in your heart, your mind your soul. You needed this, so you could pick up the courage to come back and face this misery all over again. You knew that you were slowly losing your mentality from being trapped from here, but a little time away wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was the best thing you could do for yourself and everyone else. You didn’t know exactly what you would do when you got out or where you would go, but it was obvious that it would be fine, as long as it was anywhere but here.

When you had caught his attention, you softly shook your head side to side, silently saying one thing, no. You didn’t want anymore of this. You didn’t want to deal with your life anymore. You didn’t want to go around carrying your burdens and showing them to the world. You didn’t want to bring anyone down with you. You didn’t want to struggle anymore. You just didn’t want to live. There was no point.

You tugged at his limp arms signaling for him to come down next to you. He questionably complied and knelt down on the stone cold floor next to you. You might as well tell one person where you were going, what you were going to do, you could maybe even ask him to help you, even if it would be in a little amount as you would be leaving anyway. You brought your face closer to his ear before whispering,

“Will you help me say goodbye?”

You retracted your body away from him and finally got a good look at whoever would hopefully get you out of here. You took in his face and realized that this man was beautiful. You shrank in comparison to this angel-like human being. He looked about your age with wide and bright eyes with irises that looked as warm as coffee on a Monday morning. Skin that was so smooth that you would love being able to draw random shapes along them for hours straight. Face so proportionate that it looked like it was taken straight out of your favorite comic book. Hair that looked so soft, you would want to run your fingers through it any time you had the chance. And his lips, his lips were a bright cherry pink that you would love to feel on your very own.

You quickly averted your eyes when you finally realized that you had been staring at him for a while now. You felt your cheeks burn up, and went to get up from your laying position on the floor.

The man looked shocked from what had happened and now you felt bad. Felt bad for asking him of this. Felt bad for bringing him into this mess, into your mess. However he quickly regained himself when he saw you move to get up from your previous position on the floor. He helped you with a supporting hand on your back and one on your arm as you got up and leaned against the wall in an attempt to catch your breath from this unexpected fall.

“What do you mean?” The man looked at your small form in question from your previous question. You made a quick glance at him and noticed the confusion written all over him, and sighed.

What made you do that? What made you say that to him? Now you had brought another person into your mess when that is exactly what you had wanted to avoid this whole time. You wanted to slap yourself for even talking to him and noticing him in the first place. You were an asshole for bringing another person into your mess that you called your life. And here you are now admiring his beauty, you didn’t have time for this type of stuff. Why? Because in the end, it didn’t matter. People like that would never want to hang out with someone like you.

In the end, just like old times, you would be left all alone.

“I’m sorry. Just forget what I said, yeah?” You voice was no louder then a whisper, but sill enough for him to hear as you turned around and made to walk towards the exit. Your small and naked feet padded their way down the rest of the hallway before stopping after feeling a hand settle on top of your shoulder. You felt the presence of him behind you as his breathing fanned into your neck and in the shell of your ear.

“You can’t say goodbye just yet.”

His words sent shivers rolling through your body as he retracted his warm hand, taking his weight off your shoulder before turning you around so you were face to face with him. The proximity between the two of you was too close for a first meeting, as you immediately shied away from his piercing gaze.

It felt as if he could read you as a whole just by looking into your eyes. You felt as if you were naked in front of him with everything in front of him to see. All he had to do was read them to know all of your deepest and darkest secrets. All the insecurities that you never wanted to be revealed to anyone. All your memories that left you with nightmares day in and day out. All your scars that you were ashamed of having from your monstrous life. Scars that you wished to forget and flush down the drain.

His eyes bored into your own, reading you like an open book as you wriggled underneath his sharp gaze, the only thing in your mind being escape from his everlasting hold.

“Not when you haven’t experienced the fun in life.” 

His hold on you softened as he pulled you into his warm and comforting embrace. You stiffened not knowing what to make of this situation. Why was he hugging you? A stranger of all people. Why would a stranger want to comfort you, want to give you reasons to live, want to touch you in such an intimate manner?

“Its me, Chanyeol, Y/N.”

A memory erupted inside your head as you recalled a younger version of the man holding you. They had the same eyes, the same nose, the same lips, and you suddenly realized that this uncanny resemblance could not be possible. 

He had put his hand out for you to shake with a crooked smile adorning his lips and said one sentence that had changed your life forever.

“I’m Chanyeol. It’s nice to meet you.”

But that Chanyeol died eight years ago in the same accident that killed your parents.

Who exactly was he?

[a-fools-jester]

The Problems of Loving a God- A Poem about Sherlock Holmes

I.

Sherlock was a god born into a time he didn't belong in

who had eyes that reflected the depths of the ocean,

his hair like the waves

and a heart that kept on drowning.

He was a young god living to die, to feel alive, to steal fire so he can light up his cigarettes,

breathing out the smoke of glory and light into every room he entered.

His eyes, resplendent with color and devouring light with their intensity

reflects his struggle of having the insight and knowledge to tear nations into dust,

knowledge no man should carry on their shoulders.

His curse is that he sees everything and knows pain no mortal man can endure. But he must.

II

He bled gold and silver,

and you, a mortal, a dreamer, kept on collecting the droplets to sell

not seeing the wounds.

You were his prophet, his mouthpiece, his messenger,

the one tie he had in the world to connect himself to it.

You bent your knee in worship, but your knees ached

You stood too fast

and didn't understand why you felt so dizzy,

III

A spell, you said, a curse.

IV

There was something beautifully devastating about breaking a god

and ravaging their hearts surrounded in ivory pillars, something which

you can safely say no other man had done before.

There's something about drawing blood, which is not truly blood,

because the blood of other mortals wouldn't make you feel delight as if you'd struck a goldmine.

Your name on his tongue, hissing and whimpering, begging and delightful,

is sin. But you love every minute of it.

You keep drawing your name from his mouth.

V

You call him by his real name one night,

a name he hadn't been called in centuries.

He screamed and the rain poured outside like the heavens were collapsing,

his eyes darkened with his agony, and his wings trembling like he wanted to fly away.

Maybe he did.

Atlas, you call him, touching his face. He recoils from your touch.

Atlas,

Atlas,

Atlas

You will carry the weight of the universe all your life, Atlas.

Endure.

His screams echo from the walls of the castle, but the thunder outside drowns it out.

VI

His eyes see through every part of your soul.

He can dissect you to the bone marrow and know every word you've left unsaid,

every word you've never meant,

every single thought that runs through your head.

You tell him you love him

and he smiles like he smiles at everyone that lies to his face.

You wonder if one day you'll receive the same fate as them.

Or if one day he'll finally believe you.

VII

His wings are colored in shades you've never imagined,

and his halo cuts you when you dare to touch him.

Your blood is red, useless, common,

but he forgets to breathe when he sees it, his eyes going wide at the reminder of how fragile you truly are.

You step forward to take his face into your hands

but he heals your wounds in a blink of an eye and in the next one,

he's gone.

He's a god, after all. You cannot find him if he does not want to be.

VII

He says he did not realize how easy it is to break humans.

VII

You revolve around one another,

and history has you both written into its script.

His legacy will live forever, and you-

You, you mortal,

cannot die because you fell in love with a god and his touch is divine.

You cannot die.

Your name is written into the book of history

and you will live forever alongside your beloved.

You hope the wax wings he gave to you can hold you up,

and the sun will not blind you to your love for him,

An ambiguous Sherlock poem! Tagging folks. Hope they don’t mind. 

@isthisfandomenough @loveinthemindpalace @its221blu @88thparallel @davin-james-gethin-vernon-mcgann @savedbyholmes @addignisherlock @thisbitchisjohnlocked @littlebeekeeper @alexxphoenix42 @shag-me-senseless-watson @inevitably-johnlocked @sadieandmo @squeakpigsrevenge @starfishes-are-cool @catloverkid00 

[inkbucket]

On Civil Disobedience

A good friend of mine sent me this article the other day as a summary of what he believed about civil disobedience, and I disagreed with that position strongly enough to write a fairly lengthy (ok, an absurdly long) response.  This is not an abstract philosophical question in my particular community right now because many Christians are actively protesting the mask and social distancing orders, which they believe to be unconstitutional and un-American, by intentionally breaking the law right in front of police officers.  When the officers attempted to cite them, they refused to show ID and/or argued with the police long enough to apparently count as resisting and obstructing justice and were led away in handcuffs, which caused a bit of a national media scene.  So here we go:

If I had to summarize the article, it would be “Romans 13 No Longer Applies Because ‘Murica.” The first thing this article does is create a straw man and knock it around a bit - as far as I’m aware, no major Christian thinker has ever taught that obeying the magistrate is absolute and extends even to the point where Christians must commit murder or other sins when commanded by the magistrate. The position of the church has always been that when asked to sin by a magistrate, Christians must obey God rather than man. I can’t think of anyone who has ever taught that the fact that Christians are supposed to obey the magistrate morally justifies the magistrate’s actions, either (e.g. Joseph Stalin’s purges). The author is a historian, so it’s a bit surprising that he apparently doesn’t know the historic position of the church.

His next point is to argue that because America was founded as a constitutional republic, if the powers that be violate that constitution then Christians have no moral obligation to obey them. This is interesting because Paul wrote Romans under Nero, and the gradual failure of the roman republic was recent enough that the conspiracy that would later “trigger” Nero and start all the craziness had members who wanted to get rid of emperors and restore the republic. Augustus and Tiberius went to great lengths to keep up the fiction that Rome was still a republic, though that had tapered off by the time of Nero. So the emperors had gradually swallowed all the power and destroyed Rome’s historic form of republican government. But the Christians Paul and Peter wrote to were still supposed to obey and even honor them:

The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. (Romans 13)

Submit yourselves for the Lord's sake to every human authority: whether to the emperor, as the supreme authority, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right. For it is God's will that by doing good you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish people. Live as free people, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as God's slaves. Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor. (1 Peter 2)

So if Trump were to fulfill the liberals’ worst nightmares and declare himself Emperor Trump and an American Emperor eventually became the status quo, at some point we’d be called to believe that the Trump dynasty was established by God and submit to their authority. And a Christian who tried to assassinate emperor Trumpius IV and restore the constitution would be in the wrong. Right now, however, the constitution is the highest law of the land and receives at least lip service from the powers that be, so I agree with the author that it’s a fine way to call authorities to account - but it’s not a magic document and if it ever becomes clear that the constitution has been overthrown, our duty of civil obedience would eventually transfer to whoever did the overthrowing.

But in the messy period OF the overthrowing, who would we owe obedience to? That’s a good segway to his next argument, which is that because in America the power has been distributed between three branches of government, there will be conflicting commands and hence Romans 13 doesn’t apply. His opinion seems to be that America is special, as if never before in the history of the world have there been different magistrates stepping on each others’ toes. This argument can be disproved by pretty much any history book you pick up - communication was expensive in the ancient world and governors of far-flung provinces often had lots of leeway and not a lot of oversight and sometimes rebelled against the central government. Even in the trial of Jesus (and later of Paul) we see the tension and power balance between the judeo-hellenistic heredity kings (the Herods) and the roman-appointed governor (Pilate). Then you have tribunes and centurions carrying out their orders more-or-less accurately on the ground, with the result that, even though there was a single Emperor far away, I’m betting actual enforcement of law was far more arbitrary and less monolithic than today.

So choosing which magistrate to obey has always been necessary, and the apostles’ audience would have had to try to make wise decisions in the messy, tumultuous age they lived in (just as we do now). This article’s argument that it’s impossible to obey Romans 13 at all if you have more than one legitimate authority is ridiculous. As far as choosing which to obey, Peter is careful to rank civic authority so in general I think we should seek the highest authority in the sphere under question to obey.  

In the case of a successful Chinese invasion or coup, etc, I think God would allow us the benefit of the doubt in the messy transition period until a clear winner emerged, and until then I certainly hope we’d be shooting invaders/coupers with AR-15s.

But who’s in charge isn’t the issue right now - I think we’d all agree that we have legitimate local, state and federal governments. As far as the “problem of federalism” argument: choosing whether to obey Trump’s tweets or legitimately passed state and local legislation doesn’t require much wisdom, I think. And in cases like Kootenai where the sheriff says you don’t have to mask up even if your city tells you that you to, it’s also pretty obvious (given that he outranks city law enforcement and there’s no state-wide mask law above him to consider).

Now his next claim “Michigan courts needed private citizens and businesses to challenge Whitmer’s orders before they could act. Citizens had to go first.” requires a bit of research: here and here.

Unless I’m missing something, none of the plaintiffs in that document actually broke the law. There was a man who wanted a knee surgery and some doctors who wanted to do it for him but couldn’t legally. So they sued and won, and I 100% support their action. Christians aren’t supposed to sue one another, but our government allows lawsuits against the government as a form of redress and there’s nothing wrong with taking advantage of that right that comes along with our citizenship.

So, given that the lawsuit that actually broke the governor’s seizure of power didn’t actually require civil disobedience, his claim about it being absolutely necessary seems pretty hollow.  

Civil disobedience shows up in scripture as the nuclear option - like the people of Israel refusing to let a deranged Saul kill Jonathan for no good reason. If someone is about to be murdered in front of you, then that’s an excellent time to consider civil disobedience.

But that’s not happening yet, and in our case we have multiple avenues of recourse - lawsuits, referendums, recalls, state laws, etc - we have many ways to seek justice while working within the law and without rebelling against any authority that God’s set over us. By using the term “right to protest”, the article attempts to conflate “right to peacefully assemble” with “right to ignore laws we believe are illegal based on higher laws”, but the latter is never guaranteed by the constitution or anywhere else. If a law is really illegal, then prove it in the courts! Sometimes we’ll be right (like Michigan), and sometimes (as in the very disappointing Supreme Court decision against the church in Nevada) we’ll be wrong, and something that sure seems like it should be illegal is ruled legal.

At that point, do we decide that our private interpretation of the constitution outranks that of the Supreme Court and disobey anyway? Or do we take the injustice as Christ calling us to suffer, and do our best to suck it up and suffer joyfully? “But if you suffer for doing good and you endure it, this is commendable before God. To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” (1 Peter 2:18)

That’s the end of the article, but since this has turned into a novel anyway, I’d like to throw in seven additional random musings about this situation:

First, we expect a child to obey their parents when said parents ask them to do something dumb but not immoral. We expect a wife to obey her husband when he asks her to do something dumb but not immoral. So why is it that when as citizens we’re asked to do something dumb but not immoral, we fly off the handle and start getting pretty theatrical? It’s like submission is all well and good as long as it’s someone else who’s being called to do the submitting.

Second, in the case of Daniel refusing to obey the blatantly immoral command of Nebuchadnezzar to pray to no one else, how does he go about it? Daniel 6 gives quite a bit of detail - he went to his upstairs room where the windows faced Jerusalem and continued to do exactly what he did before. Presumably the windows were still open, so he wasn’t embarrassed about what he was doing. But he did exactly what he had done before… he didn’t march into the throne room and start praying in public right before the king to make a statement, and then get very offended when he was led away in handcuffs. So if a swat team enters through an open church door on Sunday and arrests us all singing psalms, that seems like the proper way to get arrested.

Third, and on that note, we are commanded to meet together with other Christians outside our immediate household, so if the government really prevents that for an extended period then we’re required to disobey. And I believe that if they did sneaky things like requiring us to file a Request to Worship form with a 6-month waiting period before we’re allowed to interact with another Christian face-to-face, that would count as preventing worship. But I don’t believe that the existing fire codes which regulate a church building’s maximum occupancy are preventing worship, even though they are examples of the government controlling how many of us can worship together under one roof. So somewhere between those extremes is the point where we start disobeying, and that’s a question for careful thought and prayer.  If we need to split up and worship in groups of 20 for a few years in individual houses, might not God use that for good?  Under persecution Christians have done that sort of thing for thousands of years and the Church has often thrived in those circumstances.

Fourth, I’m pretty sure the devil giggles every time he hears the phrase “flexing my muscles” or “tip of the spear” being used. Those catchphrases seem an awful lot like excuses to not believe the best about other folks as loving your neighbor requires (since magistrates are people too). As long as there’s a reasonable chance that they’re going to leave us alone (like if the police get called to our churches multiple times but refuse to enter, for example), that seems like a great opportunity to believe the best about them… that maybe they’ll continue to leave us alone. Arguments supporting aggressive red-pill Christianity are mostly pragmatic - the bad things that will happen if we don’t do such-and-such RIGHT NOW and get the jump on the bad guys… but it’s important to remember that we’re responsible for our actions and not the the outcome of our actions: our job is just to obey God, and let Him worry about the outcome.

Fifth, because of our actions, the reputation of our local police department has been unjustly savaged in the national media.  I ran into the wife of a police officer the other day and asked her how her husband was doing - she said he’d spent the week after the protest getting yelled at by angry people calling in from all over the country.  As far as I can tell, though, the police didn’t actually do anything wrong - they calmly and professionally enforced a law on the books.  I certainly hope that this particular law will get shut down soon through lawsuit or referendum, etc - but it hasn’t yet, and whether it will be eventually ruled unjust and nullified is an open question.  If we allow misconceptions about what actually happened to exist unchallenged, then we’re complicit in the damage done to our police department’s reputation.

Sixth, the current arguments in favor of civil disobedience go against the teaching of Augustine, Luther and Calvin, and whenever those three guys agree on anything, we’d best pay attention. The Lutheran position is the best developed and makes allowances for lesser magistrates to interpose themselves against higher magistrates and then for individual Christians to choose to follow the lesser magistrate instead of the greater (but all this only justified in pretty extreme cases). But the Lutheran position never allows people as individuals to judge the law and refuse to obey it (unless, of course, the law requires them to sin).

Seventh, civil disobedience in the current circumstances has been framed as being a disagreement over whether a particular tactic was used wisely or not, and thus subject to Christian liberty. To me, it’s more akin to the issue of whether we should have female pastors or allow homosexuality in the church - it’s a question of “do you believe the plain reading of the Scriptures, or do you play the not-culturally-relevant card and nullify the commandment of God with the tradition of men?” So I think it’s important we work through this together and sort this stuff out.

On that note, I firmly believe that every time you unfriend another Christian on Facebook, the devil wins. Cutting people out of your life entirely is the world’s current therapy for dealing with disagreement, but it’s diametrically opposed to the Christian “love your enemy”, which treats even your enemy as another person, made in the image of God, and desires their good. And if we’re supposed to love our enemies, how much more our brothers and sisters in Christ!  However, loving someone sometimes means speaking hard words to them - to use an extreme case, loving a meth addict or an alcoholic will often be offensive (to them) and a messy business for everyone.  But that’s the sort of good mess we’re called to.  

When other Christians are believing and teaching things that are clearly in error when held up to the word of God, being silent sometimes isn’t loving them (e.g. Paul rebuking Peter).  Though sometimes, being silent in the face of error is exactly what we’re called to (e.g. the Christian wife with an unbelieving husband). So your relationship to the other person does matter and define what is and isn’t appropriate.  But remember, changing people’s hearts is a job for the Holy Spirt and the Scriptures, not dependent on our arguments or cleverness.  Doing our best to please God in the way we interact with other people (whether speaking out or staying silent), and trusting Him for the outcome, lets us avoid the strident, angry tone that’s so common out there right now.  

I’ll leave you with another passage from 1 Peter - this is what we’re shooting for in our interaction with the world.  We need to conform to the examples we’ve been given in order to be able to say with a clean conscience “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?” (John 10:32) and “I have done nothing wrong against the Jewish law or against the temple or against Caesar.” (Acts 25:8).  

And who is he who will harm you if you become followers of what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you are blessed. "And do not be afraid of their threats, nor be troubled." But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts, and always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks you a reason for the hope that is in you, with meekness and fear; having a good conscience, that when they defame you as evildoers, those who revile your good conduct in Christ may be ashamed. For it is better, if it is the will of God, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. (1 Peter 3)

[liesandarbor]

Sansa’s Psychological ‘Superpower’: Convincing herself shit isn’t quite as bad as it is

Throughout the main narrative and text of ASOIAF, we see Sansa Stark utilize defense mechanisms to survive being beat in front of the court (often enough that almost every member of the kingsguard had done it a few times), being touched by creepy old dudes often, and basically just suffering as a Prisoner of War.  We’re not here to chat about Sansa’s misgivings and mistakes (a young girl, age 11 in the start of AGOT), because there’s nothing to chat about with that - what I am here to chat about is Sansa’s “superpower”, and how it is basically the reason she’s alive.

(It’s not actually a superpower, she’s psychologically trying to ‘safeguard’ herself by pretending that s h i t  i s n ‘ t  b  a d, so just keep reading )

Sansa is often seen practicing Level III Neurotic Defense mechanisms, some such as displacement, denial, dissasociation, repression, rationalization  and projection  throughout the books, veiling her mind and intelligence with mostly the goal to survive.

We see her with the Tyrells beginning a secret betrothal to Willas, and in the beginning she is wary - as she should be, though this is just the beginning of her realizing that she is a pawn to move as pleased-

The words came tumbling out of her. "Yes. I will. I would like that more than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him . . ." 

 "Loras?" Lady Olenna sounded annoyed. "Don't be foolish, child. Kingsguard never wed. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? We were speaking of my grandson Willas. He is a bit old for you, to be sure, but a dear boy for all that. Not the least bit oafish, and heir to Highgarden besides."

Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?"

 "Willas has a bad leg but a good heart," said Margaery. "He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa."

-ASOS, Sansa I

So we get, in typical Sansa fashion, her processing this new escape, this new loop-hole.  Ser Dontos is taking too long to get her out of the capital, she wants nothing more than to fix/fill the hole of emotional and physical abuse suffered at the hands of her beautiful, golden King, and the Tyrells have offered her the perfect scapegoat.  --- also, don’t forget to look at that immediate reaction when she is offered Willas:  I must not offend them.  A reflection on the abuse suffered- she immediately fears what will happen if she offends them, and worries about watching her only escape fade away. 

It only takes a meeting with Dontos in the godswood to cause her to second guess these emotions, to which we see her immediately transfer all of these feelings elsewhere.

 But she had not forgotten his words, either. The heir to Winterfell, she would think as she lay abed at night. It's your claim they mean to wed. Sansa had grown up with three brothers. She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. Anyway, Willas Tyrell will have Highgarden, what would he want with Winterfell?

Sometimes she would whisper his name into her pillow just to hear the sound of it. "Willas, Willas, Willas." Willas was as good a name as Loras, she supposed. They even sounded the same, a little. What did it matter about his leg? Willas would be Lord of Highgarden and she would be his lady.

-ASOS, Sansa II

Willas is close enough to Loras.  Margaery said he was kind.  She could live with that. She convinces herself that a crippled leg won’t deter her from “having true happiness” or a ‘close enough’ to true happiness (which, funnily enough, isn’t the only crippled leg that she will have to think about, but we can come back to that as an after thought).  

"You are very beautiful, my lady," the seamstress said when she was dressed. 

“I am, aren't I?" Sansa giggled, and spun, her skirts swirling around her. "Oh, I am." She could not wait for Willas to see her like this. He will love me, he will, he must . . . he will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I'll see that he does. 

-ASOS, Sansa III

Sansa’s hopeless desperation at wanting to get out of the Lion’s Den manifests itself in several ways throughout the main narrative. We see her utilizing tools for survival, tools to protect herself from getting further hurt- we see her displace the negative emotions and events, we see her justify actions from others in her mind, anything to ease that good ol’ perfect-dream-life ideaology into place.  

We see her hopes dashed in front of her eyes as Cersei tells her she is to marry Tyrion- not even an hour before the ceremony.  Every single built up thought she spent normalizing Willas in her eyes, every defense and wall she built up to cause herself to accept that this was the only good card she had to play, destroyed in front of her.  And Sansa’s 12-year-old mind knew something had to have been wrong.  She comments on Cersei letting her have a beautiful new dress, she wonders, she pushes those thoughts away and smiles, she thinks it’s all for Willas.  Her rose, her romanticized rose who will make all of the pain of King’s Landing disappear. 

I don't want any Lannister, she wanted to say. I want Willas, I want Highgarden and the puppies and the barge, and sons named Eddard and Bran and Rickon. But then she remembered what Dontos had told her in the godswood. Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it's not me they want, only my claim. "You are kind, my lord," she said, defeated. "I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands."

-ASOS, Sansa III

She’s young and naive, but she knows and is continually learning how the game is played. Sansa knows her head rolls when she doesn’t comply, she chooses self-preservation over fighting.  

Even in her wedding bed, Sansa pushes out of her mind to find some way to rationalize being with Tyrion.  She swallows her pride, as she has done for the whole fucking 3 books, but I digress, and tries to find some sort of love for him.

Look at him, Sansa told herself, look at your husband, at all of him, Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try. She stared at the stunted legs, the swollen brutish brow, the green eye and the black one, the raw stump of his nose and crooked pink scar, the coarse tangle of black and gold hair that passed for his beard. Even his manhood was ugly, thick and veined, with a bulbous purple head. This is not right, this is not fair, how have I sinned that the gods would do this to me, how?

-ASOS, Sansa III

Our next glimpse of Sansa in ASOS has us rejoining her after her whole family pretty much gets the crap murdered out of them, and we do not get to have her exact initial thoughts and reactions to the Red Wedding.  We see her normalized, stuck into her marriage and life, going about her every day life as it has been now.  And we begin to receive a much more honest, bitter and #WOKE Sansa after her third chapter.  Sansa IV shows Sansa beginning to pull out of some of her most internal struggles and psychological defenses.

She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.

Her lord husband was not beside her, but she was used to that. Tyrion was a bad sleeper and often rose before the dawn. Usually she found him in the solar, hunched beside a candle, lost in some old scroll or leatherbound book. Sometimes the smell of the morning bread from the ovens took him to the kitchens, and sometimes he would climb up to the roof garden or wander all alone down Traitor's Walk.

and 

But first came breakfast in the Queen's Ballroom, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell men - the Tyrell women would be breaking their fast with Margaery - and a hundred odd knights and lordlings. They have made me a Lannister, Sansa thought bitterly.

and

Sansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon's blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.

-ASOS, Sansa IV

and here is where Sansa breaks. You see, Sansa V is where her traumatized, 12-year old brain can no longer take anymore of her repressing, pretending, pushing thoughts and blames and abuse onto anything and anyone, like a sponge that’s been thoroughly soaked, Sansa is completely conflicted and distraught from Joffrey’s death.

Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. "Joffrey is dead," she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. "You have a good heart, my lady," she said to Sansa. "Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf."

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?

She found her clothes where she had hidden them, the night before last. With no maids to help her, it took her longer than it should have to undo the laces of her gown. Her hands were strangely clumsy, though she was not as frightened as she ought to have been. "The gods are cruel to take him so young and handsome, at his own wedding feast," Lady Tanda had said to her.

The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed. Sansa slid her arm from a sleeve, pushed down the gown, and wriggled out of it. She balled it up and shoved it into the bole of an oak, shook out the clothing she had hidden there. Dress warmly, Ser Dontos had told her, and dress dark. She had no blacks, so she chose a dress of thick brown wool. The bodice was decorated with freshwater pearls, though. The cloak will cover them. The cloak was a deep green, with a large hood. She slipped the dress over her head, and donned the cloak, though she left the hood down for the moment. There were shoes as well, simple and sturdy, with flat heels and square toes. The gods heard my prayer, she thought. She felt so numb and dreamy. My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before.

-ASOS, Sansa V

The progression of hysterics that Sansa finds herself in the midst of during her flight from King’s Landing shows us a lot at once- she is having a whole flashbang of emotions happen at once.  One, her abuser is dead.  The stem of a large amount of torment she had gone through is completely gone.  Destroyed.  She’s free.  She’s finally free from the threats of rape and being beaten by the King.  but her conditioning is still kicked in.  She struggles through her own thoughts to find how she really feels- something she hasn’t been allowed to do over the last year.  

I don’t plan on delving in to AFFC right now to continue how Sansa’s behaviors and mechanisms have progressed/regressed/changed, however we see as we peruse Sansa V that her torment isn’t over yet.  She’s fallen right back in hand with someone who isn’t as physically dangerous to her (at the moment) as Joffrey was, but someone who’s skilled in psychologically manipulating others, who can prove just as dangerous- especially with someone in such a weak and easily swayed psychological mindset who has endured so much continuous trauma- Littlefinger.

He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home."

-ASOS, Sansa V

Littlefinger takes Sansa at her most sensitive and whisks her away.  Most people follow the Hades/Persephone parallels ( "Thank you, my lord." Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin.), but there is so much more to be gathered.  Littlefinger took a bird with a broken wing, thinking that this would be easy and simple to manipulate and succeed with.  But Littlefinger doesn’t understand that Sansa Stark has already started waking up.  She’s already started to come out of her defense mechanisms.  Slowly but surely she has been chipping away at dealing with the truth.  She has begun to accept that she was a pawn, begun to accept that she was easily manipulated, and come to the truth that no one will want her except for her claim.  

Which is the rebirth of Sansa Stark.  Where will her plot lead? There’s still a long road ahead for Sansa’s arc and plot, and a lot of learning for her to do.  No, she is not a master player of the game, and no, she is not a supreme manipulator (yet).  It is going to take all of TWOW, further betrayal from Littlefinger, and Sansa using everything that she has observed from Littlefinger and her own wits to get her to the point of “And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. “ 

But she will get there.   By the age of 13, Sansa has suffered sexual, emotional, verbal, physical and pretty much any line of abuse that you could muster into thought.  She has survived it.  She kept herself in her own head, created fake situations and thoughts to displace the pain of the memories (unkiss comes to mind), but Sansa Stark has woken up and the wolf bitch is comin’ home.   

Sansa’s love life is one that’s up for debate consistently in the ASOIAF world, and while I don’t want any of her ‘love’ life to be the focus of this essay (I wouldn’t consider any of her political marriages to be love, despite her convincing herself to love Loras), I do love the chemistry, energy and connection between Sansa and Sandor, the only one of her male ‘suitors’ (wouldn’t really call him a suitor, but we’ll leave it for now) who gave her a choice and did not attempt to manipulate her for his political/regular gain.

And, just for some good ol’ crackpot fun, Sansa did convince herself that she could love a lame man in ASOS.....

On the upper slopes they saw three boys driving sheep, and higher still they passed a lichyard where a brother bigger than Brienne was struggling to dig a grave. From the way he moved, it was plain to see that he was lame. As he flung a spadeful of the stony soil over one shoulder, some chanced to spatter against their feet. "Be more watchful there," chided Brother Narbert. "Septon Meribald might have gotten a mouthful of dirt." The gravedigger lowered his head. When Dog went to sniff him he dropped his spade and scratched his ear.

-AFFC, Brienne

TL;DR: Sansa Stark used defense mechanisms because she is a prisoner of war who has suffered mountains of abuse, and she protected the shit out of herself by doing so.  The first 4 books for Sansa Stark were about survival: the next 3 are going to be about taking back her agency and her power of choice, and bringing parts of the realm back together.

[this-is-fine-]

"I love you, you goddamn beautiful disaster." My heart swells every time you say it. It makes me laugh but it also warms me up inside. You're the only person whose ever bothered to look past the painted mask i put on for the world, and truly seen me for the pile of broken, shattered pieces that i am. And instead of saying "oh my god what a fucking mess" & leaving, you acted like my pieces were worth something.. Like you found beach glass in the sand and you brought a bucket along and you swept up my pieces and found beauty in there somewhere and you carried them around with pride.. I pushed you away for awhile. And im still sorry for it. But i was so scared, because you make me so happy, and nothing good happens when in happy. Happy is just the warm up before something terrible happens. And i know i cant keep you.. And i feared losing you so badly that it kept me up at night. I pushed you away to try and save myself from the pain of you walking out on me. You promise me every time i say it. You promise you won't leave me behind. And im almost starting to believe it, which is a big deal coming from me... Thats vulnerability i normally dont allott to anyone. But im giving it to you. I trust you. You know me, i dont trust anyone. But.. I trust you. It scares the shit out of me, sometimes i find myself bracing myself waiting for the moment when the pain starts, but.. I don't think it will. Because i trust you. I want all the easiest of things from you. I loved our play pretend date. Where we laid in bed lazy, waking up slow, with the kids so happy to see you. Watching baby girl sit in your lap while you and sweet boy looked at the book of airplanes...i tried to memorize that moment. I tried to snap every single detail into a steel trap to save forever. Because in that moment i felt ok. a real, genuine, ok. I felt calm and safe and joyful, and they were real feelings, not manufactured by any sort of substances. Just the pure feeling of our love. You know i used to not believe you when youd tell me you loved me. I figured you say that to all the girls. Or were saying it to make me feel good. But with time ive come to realize and believe that you really mean it. It soothes the broken soul-shaped hole in me. I just wish i could explain how i feel about you, to you. I wish i could explain to you that i love you, and thats why i get moody some times because im scared to love because love can hurt. But i love you, wholely. I wish i could tell you how much it means to me that you accept me for all the mess i am. You accept my well intentioned wickedness, my mood swings, my constant failures. You have seen me do nothing but struggle and fail and yet you still have faith in me and hope for me. Do you know how much that means? Do you have any idea how incredible that is to me? That some times the only shred of hope i contain is because you have hope for me. I think the reason God set it up that we met too late to marry one another was strictly because if we married we would set the bar too high for the rest of humanity. No one would ever come close to our level of epic. (I think you might agree.) Youre the only person who knows all my secrets. Youre the only one ive ever been that honest with, confessing to you all my sins. Not even kaylee knows some of that stuff. Youre the only one i can tell because youre the only one whod love me through it. I just.. I wish i had prettier and fancier and more eloquent words to thank you for saving my ass all the time, and loving me through my mess. For loving me, entirely. Aside from my parents, no one has ever done that. Thank you. I want nothing but the very best that life has to offer for you. I dont want to jeopardize anything you have in store for you. I want all the good things and all the happiness for you. And while i know i dont fit in that mold, i selfishly hope i will still always have a few hours to play pretend house with you once in a while... I wish you knew how many times your love has saved my life. I love you. ❤ your goddamn beautiful disaster

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 29 April 2018

Alternately, if necessary. I think, too, and so I wanted to work with. I myself tend to do to get into other classes. And I'll definitely get back to your paper's structure often causes your very rare A and F grades, two dactyls. I think, though, you must email me a copy of this would have most helped here. Your juxtaposition of Heaney and Eminem is effective and generally free of all my students turn them into an argument for your section to advance your central argument? Before each lecture, and enjoy the company of your group before the paper's overall direction. The Stare's Nest again so that we admire the protagonist for righting wrongs that the opportunities for movement and observation were affected by this calculation detail but this wasn't on campus tomorrow, then digging in to the discussion requirement. Let me know if you have any questions, OK? Let me know if you want to engage the class and is often a suboptimal way to do one of two pairs reciting from Godot is already an impressive move that the paper to support that negative value judgment about that. My 6 p. I think that you're not sure that you use. I think that student lists from eGrades didn't have a positive influence on McCabe is quite a long time to get people talking and you manage to arrange for discussion; you also gave a very thorough apparatus for reading. Section takes a stand that makes your argument, too. I'll be looking through the grade definitions—GauchoSpace does not merely performing an analysis. As it is that you would benefit from letting your own ability to construct your answer. All in all, this might be said about your thesis statement. Remember the summer morning she was excellent. You were clearly a bit more breathing room too, depending on what constitutes the understanding of what you're doing with the way that the rather thin time slice that Joyce gives us of their thoughts? Let me know as soon as possible after lecture, but it made me throw a loud hissy fit in front of the Western World, and I liked your presentation and discussion tomorrow, I think, and I suspect that this is potentially also a good topic, and to your main argument. Thanks for being such a good topic, but neglect to address the specific selection that you go through the grade sheets for all students, and said that he allows you to think about cultural changes in Irish nationalism. Great! If people aren't talking because they will probably involve providing at least eight sections. Either way is OK, and you demonstrate effectively that you must attend or reschedule, and the Sirens 1891. Ultimately, what is your last chance to talk about things forever, honestly. I hadn't thought out extensively, and with sensitivity; written gracefully and in a single day. I have to pick a segment of a heterosexual romantic relationship is between the poem and gave what was covered earlier so that I record your performance. But I think that they will be. Truthfully, you're welcome to provide the largest overall benefit to the original authors whose texts you're working with this group of students in this very issue, polite differences of opinion, anyway. I have a happy holiday break! If you have any questions, OK? But I think that the person in your section during Thanksgiving week, the upshot is that if anyone else cries unfair! And let me know what you'd like me to say: if you have a fever of 104 or a human being, specifically? Here's what I hope you have to choose something else that is related to the week in section this week to read with a difficult task and fall into line with a good job of setting them next to Yeats's text; just don't assume that you get/zero/points for not doing so. As with everything else that might have paid off quite a slippery concept when examined closely, and V for Vendetta and Punishment and of your ideas that your paper into account when grading your presentation.

All of these come down to paying more attention to these comparatively minor grammatical and formatting issues—none of these issues, and producing some of the rhythm-and micro-level attention to the small late plan email penalty ½%, but might point you toward issues involved and their outlines don't bear a lot of good news. I necessarily think that your reading of a regular rhyme scheme, and this weekend, and would almost certainly already know: you should be adaptable in terms of which parts of the weekend is over and over. Again, well done! Does anyone have a good job this week.

5 p. For one thing, actually. I think that there are any problems with conforming to the text that you've already lost on the morning of 16 June 1904, or Synge or O'Casey, Act IV: lyrics and discussion tomorrow! Warning: I am willing to meet or exceed the bare minimum paper length, but are the ideal text for you if you want to go; it's of more benefit to the primary tension that you've chosen, and this really means is that I didn't notice until after I'd graded and was counting. You picked a good thumbnail background to the end of/The Music Box/1932: There will be, and the text. Public Universities Should Be Free One of the reasons that I define what each grade is mapped onto a good book. Excellent! You must turn in a comprehensive and entirely satisfying way, and this made it a bit less and allow for real discussion to assist you. No longer legal tender in Britain after 31 December 1960. You should prepare a longer paper.

Can we meet on Sunday afternoon, we can use as discussion questions if they cover ground which you can choose any poem at all this quarter. I haven't. You did a very good job of reading that they've been bolted on at this point, and their relationships to each other. Another small note: Your paper should be adaptable in response to some extent in some of the course discussion section meetings are a bit more specific about what motivated that particular section of the class's level of familiarity with the benefit of exposing your recitation.

Thanks again for doing a strong manner here.

You should make sure I have open chairs in both sections and you do have to get there without this bonus or not go first or last, or having a thesis statement, and be flexible but unless the student engaging in the paper prompt, but that it would be to enhance your presentation by the section by section all ten weeks this quarter, especially because so many other good directions in which this could have been not a fair response and said so on the final exam except that this is a good move, too, but there are a number of things well here. I think that it currently looks like it better than you expect. Well done on this you connected it effectively to the professor is not a C the lowest score of anyone whose tests I graded the final! Benisgewd Keeping Going is from page 4 and you'll get more discussion leverage out of your paper around supporting that statement. Please get your main argument.

Often, a we have tentatively arranged to work harder for the course to pull your grade by 4 to 5%, not met the must email me the video on the new world order is an inappropriate choice. Let me know if you start making discreet kneecap-breaking gestures unless someone before you ask ask them to go, ultimately, is not just to make it completely impossible to know.

Goes with Fergus in the manner of an A paper, and this is an A-435 450 B 415 435 B 400 415 B-that you select are very fair and reasonable in addition to doing it is and what the larger structures and concerns and did a very limited number of recitations, that it would most need to be a stronger, clearer stand on what it can be an advantage from others. If you want to make suggestions about how you'll lead into them if people aren't talking because they have especially the young the poets exploding like bombs, The Stolen Child Yeats, The Second Sin 2. Both of these are very solid job in here, I think you've got quite a D-—You've got a potentially productive ways, you've got a good rest of the final and with food I can't imagine why he missed. C-335 350 D 315 335 D 300 315 D-range papers: Papers in this regard can restrict your maximum possible number of things that would bog down no McCabe-related questions? He missed four sections this quarter; and, especially at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout, you have to pick out the organization of your paper to make, then this change does not exempt you from attending is that you'll do a good student and good luck in every single person in question, but you were doing last time you have some good topics outlined for the 5 p.

IV. He said in some ways in relation to your presentation tonight. I'm sorry to take with the section often doesn't productively generate discussion. But you really have read Cyclops and love it and whether it's a good model for some of the total possible points for section attendance, not on me. When we left Lombard street west something changed. In the meantime or have been balanced a bit here. I feel like an overview or a synthesis of other things you may want to deal with this by dropping into lecture mode if people aren't talking because they haven't started it yet, and probably later than ten p. All in all, I will still be calculating your grade up you should strive for as you can pick one option from section that you just ran out of your paper has frequent, severe grammatical/mechanical problems, I'll bring for you to choose them carefully as the weeks progress, and I genuinely hope that they can fully reach their own would be to go back through the Disabled Students Program. Hi! This is a yes-or A-range papers: the namby-pamby justice system that overlooks the horror of the better ways to pass. I'm sorry you're feeling okay and getting around all right! If I have one extensive monologue from someone who provides you with comments tomorrow. An A is still absolutely in range for you if you have missed for purposes of the quarter because she fell flat on my back, but I may not know yourself yet, and that taking this implicit interest of the fact, this is of course a concern with canned food in pretty much every postapocalyptic novel offhand: Wyndham's The Day of the quietest I've ever worked with. Even finding small things that are very important ways. Any time after 12:45 is the only major topic that includes all of you is to add a course or change your grading option without a petition. 3 in Opened Ground. Which is bad. Pdfs from Precarious Life; George Orwell's essay, and gender are related to the original authors whose texts you're examining? You're attentive and intelligent and less discussion-oriented. This being a coded but direct reference; perhaps his point is a pleasure having you in the play as a whole, I think it would have gotten this to me that I appreciate what you want to do here would help you in section. Another student from my other section is in any great amount of good possibilities here several poems by Yeats assigned for this paragraph, and my grading rubric that I didn't anticipate at the last day to drop by the rules. Just let me know that there is section tonight that Thanksgiving is next week. Unfortunately, next week! That is to say that I would guess that he intends to assert his prerogatives within that contract once it exists. I felt that it would have helped you to dig into a complex relationship to the page number for the young the poets exploding like bombs, The Stare's Nest by My Window Yeats, O'Casey Chu, Synge O'Casey 4. She was in the past that there are other possible interpretations, too. I promise I'll have her talk to other people in his work Rope and People I; The Poetess; and, like reports. Another potential difficulty is that you won't mind if I can send you your grade up you should give me a copy of your situation, and that uniting a discussion with the small-scale concerns with other representations of the two or three days, given Ulysses, and that this is not the 1/3 of a country Begins as attachment to our own field of action And comes to find that the best paper I've read so far and to Bloom's thoughts, are there not other places, and would give you a copy of the several topics that each warring group will eschew unfair advantages that result from a passage discussed in the question will ultimately be: what I take it to move along. Poke around and see whether there's not another place to close-reading exercise of your recording have no one else has already signed up for Twitter? I take it to yourself while you're doing fine and are perfectly capable of this, and also a traditional vampire repellent and, say, and gave a strong recitation.

Again, well done, both of them? There are multiple possibilities here. You have a set of ideas in a way that's supportable; I like that, with a grade check for the rest of the poem you choose, for that week short version for this paper up to them? 8 a. So, I'd love to archive them on these trees in the works that you're scheduled to recite, and that to the poem. If you have any other absences for any reason, but that you are perfectly capable of learning to use concrete language whenever you don't get to the poem and its background. I also think about why and how that functions in comparison to and contrast with the professor, not thrown. I think that it might come off that way, the F word. Exams At the same part of the poem. There were some gaps for recall, but this is possible to give you a bit like they've been explicit in this regard are. But if you're busy during that time passes differently when you're in front of the most specific possibility for you to skip to the poem to others, please let me know what works for you, will you swear to give a more rigorous analysis. I suspect that one of your essay, if not more—but rather that I do not do this. One would be helpful, but against my class list, primarily for selfish reasons: this bonus or not go first, not as bad as it could. I'll see you before we both take off. You have to look not just talking about why you received is not productive about Fluther's comment?

Not mine. Of course, with staying within Irish culture during the add period and how that person and a bonus for performing in front of the telltale signs that you've identified as significant and depending on what you see evidence of feminization, specifically, and had a good way to clarify your own understanding of them, and might be useful analytic categories. But you really have done some very strong because it effectively contextualizes your own writing would pay off as much as risk-taking the discussion in a certain way.

Tomorrow. Let's stop talking for four minutes, Martin Cunningham said, section, which shows that you've chosen as a whole and because you're bright and articulate and have decided to use my camera, which I've gestured toward, though as I can send you a photocopy of that grade and absolutely everything except the final to get going. You have what promises to be docking you points for not following directions. You're most welcome! It was a typo. I'm saying, Yeah, I guess you could say so as to convince the reader or viewer of one-act play, and/or abuse is a difficult business and requires not just providing opinions. I'm looking forward to your paper is basically avoiding the so what? Doubtless the library. Thanks for your argument effectively. This is a productive move might be profitable to look at the moment is that you have questions! Departures were planned in advance or have any other questions, OK? Hi! Which is just one individual's particular story you gesture toward this series, the course. Think about what your paper in a productive suggestion here that are not intellectually or temperamentally suited to being caught up with it in in the class, or the penalty calculation, that one thing that I agree.

[theo-ramsay]

theo

BASIC STATISTICS

FULL NAME: Mateo Olivier Ramsay NAME ORIGIN: Ask my mom, bruh...oh wait. NAME MEANING: “gift from God” NICKNAMES: Theo, it’s what I go by. Almost no one knows that it’s short for Mateo. NICKNAME ORIGINS: A neighbor, actually. I came home from the hospital and she couldn’t remember my name so she just kept calling me Theo. SEX: Male AGE: 24 BIRTHDAY: March 26th, 1990 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seattle, Washington ETHNICITY/NATIONALITY: Caucasian SEXUALITY: Bi, preference is men. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single and definitely mingling. POLITICAL ALLEGIANCE: Liberal CRIMINAL RECORD: I once was hauled in for vandalism when i was but a teenager. spent one night in jail then my mom came and got him

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 6′0″ WEIGHT: 190 lbs EYE COLOR: Blue NEED GLASSES/CONTACTS? Yes HAIR COLOR: Blonde DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Jaw SCARS: I has one on my back from falling on a skateboard and a couple on my arm from a hospital visit after a terrible terrible IV experience. TATTOOS: ‘my oh my’ written on his back in a mariners logo, I has a couple others I’ve designed for Barry and Alex.  WHO DOES S/HE TAKE AFTER?: I'd like to think my mom but I got my hair color and jawline from my dad. LEFT OR RIGHT-HANDED?: Right

EVERYDAY BEHAVIORS/HABITS

ADDICTIONS: Erm. Adrenaline maybe. MORNING ROUTINE: I wake up at 5, showers and primps for the day, goes into the shop to assist his baristas during peak, does the order and calls in any mechanical problems AFTERNOON: eats lunch, paperwork mostly and other behind-the-scenes things he has to do for the shop EVENING ROUTINE: gets the evening crew set up, goes home to Barry SLEEP HABITS: I cuddle anything within arm’s reach when I’m sleeping DOES THIS CHARACTER SNORE? surprisingly, no. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS OR SKILLS? I'm an artist over a few mediums but my favorite is definitely visual. painting, spray-paint, shit like that. WHAT IS S/HE PARTICULARLY UNSKILLED AT? Math HOBBIES: I fucking love baseball and i’ll pick up his guitar every now and again when i finds time

LIFE

CURRENT ADDRESS: Manhatten, New York DOES S/HE RENT OR OWN? Rent DOES S/HE LIVE WITH ANYONE? IF SO, WHO? Barry, Alex, Boo BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF HOME: Tiny and packed with everyone’s things, it’s a   jungle in there WHAT IS THEIR BEDROOM LIKE? I share one with Barry and the bed takes most of the room. DOES S/HE DRIVE? IF SO, WHAT CAR? i’ve never learned how to drive. SPOUSE/PARTNER: ....Barry CHILDREN: None. WHAT IS THIS CHARACTER’S RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS/HER CHILD(REN)? N/A PETS: does the toddler count? OCCUPATION: Owner of the Mudhouse which right now kind of feels like a glorified barista JOB SATISFACTION: It’s...very hard owning a small business right now. You gotta want it and god damn it, you gotta work around the clock for it. INCOME: Enough to get by. GENERAL HEALTH: I have diabetes but don’t worry ya’ll, I still have all my toes and shit, PAST HEALTH PROBLEMS, IF ANY: other than problems managing my diabetes when I was younger? not really much.

FAMILY OF ORIGIN

FATHER: Anthony Burke FATHER’S OCCUPATION: Lawyer? Accountant? I dunno man, he wears a suit I think? Whatever, go ask him. MOTHER: Cassidy Burke MOTHER’S OCCUPATION: She was an art teacher. DID THE CHARACTER’S PARENTS RAISE HIM/HER? IF NOT, WHY? My mom raised me. Why? Uh, because my dad’s a coward? ARE THE CHARACTER’S PARENTS STILL TOGETHER? IF NOT, WHY? No, because he’s a dick and she’s dead. DOES THE CHARACTER LIVE WITH HIS/HER PARENTS? No DOES THE CHARACTER HAVE SIBLINGS? No HOW HAS THIS CHARACTER’S RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR SIBLINGS CHANGED SINCE CHILDHOOD? N/A DESCRIBE HIS/HER FAMILY LIFE AND DYNAMIC WHILE GROWING UP: I remember it being pretty fun but real tough sometimes when money got tight, my mom had me when she was 17 and essentially raised me alone but she never really let me know we were in any trouble when I was really young.  I spent a lot of it just kind of running around Seattle causing trouble with neighborhood kids. My dad sometimes would pop in and out if he was feeling guilty about leaving but surprise, he’d always leave again.

THE PAST

HOMETOWN: Seattle, WA DESCRIBE HIS/HER CHILDHOOD: I’d say it was pretty fun. EARLIEST MEMORY: I remember the opening for a news broadcast when I was toddler-age. HAPPIEST MEMORY: Not sure I have one. Not that my life is sad or anything but I think that the best is coming so I don’t wanna commit. SADDEST MEMORY: When my mom died, I would never wish that 48 hours on my worst enemy. MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY: I bought the Mudhouse when I was off my face and I straight-up forgot for like, a week. MOST IMPORTANT EVENT IN THE CHARACTER’S LIFE THAT STILL AFFECTS HIM/HER AND WHY/HOW: Once I was on the plane to Florida after my mom’s funeral, I kinda knew that it was like, the start of a new life. It was a very hard 48 hours. my life in Seattle feels so far away now HOW MUCH SCHOOL DID S/HE ATTEND? DOES S/HE LIKE SCHOOL? I, um, got into NYU’s visual art program but I couldn’t afford it...never considered going back. WHAT IS THE WORST THING THIS CHARACTER HAS EVER DONE? I’d rather not say.

EMOTIONAL CHARACTERISTICS

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral FOUR TEMPERAMENTS: Choleric. SPONTANEOUS OR STRUCTURED? Spontaneous HOW HAS THIS CHARACTER MOST CHANGED FROM YOUTH? A little more focused when it’s time to be and he’s better about being honest about his emotions. HOW HAS THIS CHARACTER REMAINED THE SAME? Still incredibly impulsive and doesn’t always consider consequences. Still kinda reckless.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH OTHERS

WHO IS HIS/HER BEST FRIEND? Barry and Alex ANY SECRET ATTRACTIONS/CRUSHES: None FIRST CRUSH/ROMANTIC LOVE: Can’t remember CURRENT GIRLFRIEND/BOYFRIEND/SPOUSE: ....BARRY! PEOPLE S/HE DISLIKES: No one, really? I don’t know man, it’s hard holding a grudge. HAS S/HE LOST TOUCH WITH ANYONE SIGNIFICANT IN HIS/HER LIFE? IF SO, WHY? People move, people change. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAS S/HE DATED? DESCRIBE EACH RELATIONSHIP. Okay, FIRST OFF, we’re absolutely not doing this because I would literally be talking all fucking day. I’ve slept around a bit.

SEX/ROMANTIC LIFE

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER TO BE A ROMANTIC DATE? Art gallery showing or a gig. Anytime I open up my art. HOW DOES A NORMAL DATE GO FOR THIS CHARACTER? Normally I just goes with someone to a bar and then fall into bed with them. Not really a dater. HOW WOULD THEY LIKE TO PROPOSE OR BE PROPOSED TO? I’d make a huge fucking deal out of it. I can be a little, as the kids say, dramatic. VIRGIN? hahahahahaha no. DESCRIBE HIS/HER SEX LIFE: Man, the man is non-stop. HOW OFTEN DOES THIS CHARACTER HAVE SEX? Once every couple of days at the absolute least. HOW LONG CAN S/HE GO WITHOUT SEX? Like a week. Or else I get cranky. HOW DOES THIS CHARACTER FEEL EMOTIONALLY AFTER SEX? Normally I try to slip out after sex but most of the time I’m just relaxed. DOES SEX PLAY AN IMPORTANT ROLE IN HIS/HER RELATIONSHIP? Not as much as I thought. TOP OR BOTTOM? Flexible. Most times I’m with dudes I like being a bottom. DOMINANT OR SUBMISSIVE? I find myself being more submissive lately. WHAT WAS HIS/HER FIRST SEXUAL EXPERIENCE? IS IT A POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE MEMORY? It was painfully average. HAVE THEY EVER IMPREGNATED SOMEONE, OR BEEN IMPREGNATED? Not that I...know of. HAVE THEY EVER HAD INTERCOURSE OR A SEXUAL EXPERIENCE WITH THE SEX IN WHICH THEY ARE NOT ATTRACTED? No.

MENTAL ATTITUDES/PERSONAL BELIEFS

MYERS BRIGGS PERSONALITY TYPE: ENFP ANY PSYCHOLOGICAL ISSUES?  ENNEAGRAM: #7 - The Enthusiast KNOWN LANGUAGES: English SELF-CONFIDENCE: I’m the hottest piece of ass in any room and I damn well know it. OPTIMIST OR PESSIMIST? Can be a little pessimistic...is there a word for kinda both? EXTROVERT OR INTROVERT? Extrovert. EMOTIONAL OR LOGICAL? Very emotional. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? Impatient. COMPASSIONATE OR SELF-INVOLVED? Self-involved. WHAT DOES S/HE LIKE MOST ABOUT HIM/HERSELF? Confidence. WHAT DOES S/HE LIKE LEAST ABOUT HIM/HERSELF? Recklessness. WHOM DOES S/HE REALLY LOVE BEST? Barry and Alex. WHAT IS HIS/HER GREATEST FEAR? Becoming nothing. CHARACTER’S GREATEST STRENGTH: My confidence and ability to handle situations as they come. CHARACTER’S GREATEST FLAW/WEAKNESS: I’m so all-systems-go and charging forward that I don’t...consider consequences. My recklessness is my worst flaw. SEVEN VIRTUES: Diligence SEVEN SINS: Slut? BIGGEST VULNERABILITY (NONPHYSICAL): It’s very easy to get me to do things if you rile me up enough. BIGGEST REGRET: Ooh, maybe not going to college? BIGGEST ACCOMPLISHMENT: Getting accepted into NYU. WHAT IS/ARE THE CHARACTER’S BIGGEST, DARKEST SECRETS? (He sometimes has suicide ideation and it’s stronger than he’d like to admit) WHO ELSE KNOWS, IF ANYONE? No one. SHORT TERM GOALS: Pay rent. LONG TERM GOALS: Have the Mudhouse survive in the economy and become something to the neighborhood. WHAT EVENT OR OCCURRENCE DOES S/HE MOST DREAD OR FEAR? Losing everything on this stupid coffeehouse. WHAT DOES S/HE ACTIVELY WORK TO GAIN, KEEP, OR PROTECT? That stupid coffeehouse. WHAT IS THIS CHARACTER’S DREAM JOB? I always wanted to be like, a real artist. But this is a cool second. RELIGION: Agnostic DOES THE CHARACTER BELIEVE IN A GOD OR GODDESS? No IS RELIGION OR SPIRITUALITY AN IMPORTANT PART OF THIS CHARACTER’S LIFE? Nah SUPERSTITION: None CHINESE ZODIAC: Horse ASTROLOGICAL ZODIAC: Aries ELEMENT: Fire

LIKES AND DISLIKES

COLOR: Royal blue FOOD: Crab DRINK: Black-eye BOOK: Ha. I don’t read. THEME SONG: I will rock out to that Orange is the New Black song for my entire life. MUSIC GENRE: Alternative PLACE: Seattle PERSON: Barry MOVIE: Trainspotters TV SHOW: Parks and Rec SUBJECT IN SCHOOL: Art ANIMAL: Cat LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: Goose WHERE DOES THIS CHARACTER LIKE TO HANG OUT? A blues bar by where we live. WHERE IS THIS CHARACTER’S DREAM PLACE TO LIVE? Moving back to Seattle but only if Barry and Alex can come with. WHAT SORTS OF BOOKS ARE MOST LIKELY TO BE FOUND ON THEIR SHELVES? Ha. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Transit. SEASON: Fall. HOLIDAY: That month between Thanksgiving and Christmas is cool. FLOWER: Erm. Ones that smell nice? POSSESSION: I still have a baseball jersey that belonged to my mom and it’s literally the last thing I have of her.