One of the best ones I saw was a thing noting that every single one of the few survivors of suicide jumps off of the Golden Gate Bridge realized, on the way down, that the problems they were killing themselves over actually were fixable or could be worked through...except for the now - extremely unfixable - problem of gravity.
Went to the Holocaust Museum in DC once. There was a video interview of an Auschwitz survivor who said he and some other prisoners stayed up all night with a man who wanted to kill himself. The man didn’t kill himself and survived to liberation.
In the video the survivor said “Never seek a permanent solution to a temporary problem. And they’re all temporary problems.”
Hearing that from a guy who survived the Holocaust rewired my brain a little bit.
Sakusa has heard it once, he didn’t need to hear it a thousand more times.
It’s been repeated to him often enough that it was now indoctrinated into his own self-image – a seed planted into the soil of his psyche, and watered by every off-handed comment about his mannerisms from strangers that hardly knew his name until he’d accepted it as a part of him just as much as his limbs.
Sakusa Kiyoomi was… difficult.
His family often referred to him as “fussy”, countless stories repeated back to him about his childhood days of only drinking his milk if it’s been heated up to exactly thirty seven degrees, or refusing to leave the house unless he was wearing his mask. He didn’t like it when his mother forced him to hug his relatives, and family dinners outside of the home could only happen if he was the one that chose the restaurant.
He didn’t really think this made him difficult … he was just a little particular.
That’s what he believed throughout the preamble of his adolescence, convinced that the dramatics lied in others, and not him.
But the reputation he had inadvertently garnered during his academic years had only served to prove his issues.
He didn’t have a lot of friends, the closest one to him being his own cousin — not that he really minded. He found nothing wrong with choosing to focus on his passions instead, even if it meant eating his lunches alone in class.
Unapproachable, is what Komori had called him, and Sakusa was finding it difficult not to be offended. Sure, he knew he wasn’t the friendliest, but he certainly doesn’t remember ever being uninviting.
Though, there was a rumor that spread throughout his second year that he was afraid of germs after he had spent seventeen minutes chewing out a first year for leaving the bathroom without washing his hands. He admittedly kind of liked the thought, and never bothered to correct anyone about it.
And, yes, he’d be the first one to click his tongue at the girls screaming in the hallways at seven in the morning. He wasn’t afraid to loudly shush at those speaking louder than they ought to in the library, and he’d clear his throat a little forcefully whenever there was a crowd blocking the doorways.
But how does that make him the rude one?
He didn’t understand it, but he had heard it so many times, so he figured it must be true.
“I can never really tell what you’re thinking,” Atsumu had admitted to him once, tipsy from the three cocktails he drank too fast, excited about Sakusa finally joining one of their ‘boy’s night out’.
Atsumu, Hinata, Bokuto were reminiscing about their high school days, laughing at the days when all four of them were battling it out in separate courts, far from the games they now shared behind the same net.
Sakusa had begrudgingly admitted that his teenage self didn’t have nearly as much as the other three did, and Atsumu was much too quick to throw in his two cents.
“I dunno if you like something, or if you hate it,” he slurred out, sloshing his drink when he points a sticky finger at Sakusa, “I can’t tell when you’re joking or what… It’s always a hit or miss with you! It’s unsettling.”
Unsettling. That was a new one.
You had been the third person in four months hired to manage the MSBY Black Jackals.
“Be nice to this one, Omi,” Bokuto mumbled to him during team introductions, and it had struck a nerve somewhere deep within Sakusa. There was a sort of implication that Sakusa was trying to be unkind, that his actions were spiteful in nature, but that wasn’t the case.
He didn’t know he had been a problem in the first place.
At the end of your first week, nearly the entire team had practically forced you to let them treat you to dinner – an official welcome into the deranged business known as the MSBY Black Jackal’s franchise. You had done well so far, all things considered. Sakusa knew from first hand experience that his teammates were not the easiest to get along with, but you seemed to be able to handle all of them with easy grace.
Sakusa hasn’t even had to complain about you once, and this was a fact that was quickly brought into the spotlight by the rest of the table.
“You should have seen the look on Omi’s face when Fujikawa-san scheduled him for an entire spread on GQ,” Bokuto nudged your shoulder, Sakusa cringing both at the mention of the old manager and at the force of which you flew to the side, “He nearly had an aneurysm right then and there!”
“You know what an aneurysm is?” Sakusa says coolly from above the rim of his beer, eyes slipping closed as he sipped and ignored Bokuto’s whining.
“That’s nothing,” Meian laughed, “Remember when Sakiyama-kun forgot to tell Sakusa that they were filming interviews in the locker room? That was the first time I ever heard him actually snap at someone.”
“At least it wasn’t directed at you,” Hinata groaned, dropping his forehead down onto the table, “When I first joined, he…”
The floodgates had been opened then, and if Sakusa had heard it once, he'd heard it a thousand times before.
When I first met Sakusa-san, I thought he was terrifying!
Be careful what you say around Omi, he can be a little grouchy sometimes.
Don’t worry about Sakusa-senpai, he likes to be difficult with everyone.
Omi-omi freaks me out, I never know what’s going on in his head!
Sakusa doesn’t enjoy being troublesome, he doesn’t like to be seen as strict and accommodating. He just likes things the way he likes them.
“I don’t think Sakusa-san is all that difficult,” you chuckled, “Maybe you guys are just having a hard time understanding him?”
You laugh out loud at the collective groan around the table, throwing your hands up in defense as everyone continues to try and prove you wrong. The desperate defamation of his character at the hands of the people he spends nearly all his time with should probably peeve him a little bit more than it does.
But you had stopped for a moment, and gave him a cheesy grin that lasted only for a blink, and for the first time in his life, Sakusa chased after the fleeting thought that maybe it wouldn’t kill him to be a little more agreeable.
He had kept this philosophy swimming somewhere in the back of his mind, and over the next few weeks, Sakusa could slowly feel a turn of the tide.
He no longer had to hunt down the janitor of the stadium every morning to open up the gym, always finding the door unlocked with a towel ready in his locker. He’d come back to a single banana and a bottle of that kombucha he absolutely hated but can’t seem to stop drinking placed innocently on top of his gym bag, and a note with a smiley face that didn’t need a signature for him to know who it’s from.
He was always placed in conference panels next to Atsumu and Bokuto, the two always eager to answer enough questions for Sakusa to avoid speaking too much into the mic. His training sessions were scheduled a half hour before everyone else’s, always giving him enough time to finish and get into the shower before the last black jackal could even step foot into the weight room.
The irritation he usually felt hiding beneath the surface of his demeanor had disappeared, and for some reason his coworkers all started speaking to him more. We
His life began to move forward as effortlessly as a well oiled machine, and it really didn’t take much for him to figure out why.
And it wasn’t as if you were giving him any special treatment. He knows you drive to the convenience store twenty minutes past the stadium because it’s the only one that carries Hinata’s favorite sport drink. You’ve shown him the dozens of fake twitter accounts you’ve made to tweet Bokuto good luck before every game. You make sure to steam Atsumu’s entire uniform before each game because a single wrinkle can throw him off the edge.
He sees you.
He was glad now for the part of him that Atsumu had found unsettling.
Because he wouldn’t want them to understand why he’s suddenly bringing an iced green tea with honey to work every morning and bringing it directly into the back offices. He doesn’t need Atsumu to figure out the reason why he started packing extra bentos for practice after seeing you work through lunch one too many times.
He allows them to think he stays later after games so he could have the locker room to himself, because that’s the way Sakusa’s always been, right? He’s gotta have things his way, or no way. And it definitely wasn’t because he wanted to wait for you to finish your work, and wanted to be the one to see you home safely.
He tells himself it’s simply out of kindness, to show his gratitude with what you’ve done. Who’s to take care of you after you’ve taken care of everyone else?
He wouldn’t mind if it was him.
He hopes you suffer from the same affliction as his teammates, unable to read the blank face hidden behind a plain white mask. He wouldn’t want you to think he likes the exasperated smile on your face when you see him waiting, or the excited hop in your step as you fall into pace with him. He doesn’t give away that he actually enjoys your ceaseless rambling, and that you never took offense to any of his teasing.
But something tells him that you understood anyway.
“Can you believe it’s been six months already?” You mentioned, sticking your hands deep into the pocket of your coat. Your steps were slow, feet dragging behind in a pace that Sakusa was more than willing to indulge.
He shook his head because no, he could hardly believe it’s only been six months, because he could hardly remember what his life was like before you walked in it.
But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “We should celebrate.”
Your eyes brighten up at him with excitement, clapping your hands together with a big smile.
“Yay, let’s celebrate!” You cheer with a little pump of your fist, and Sakusa could feel the corners of his lips tug up into a smile.
“We should invite Shoyo and Atsumu, and the rest of the team! The karaoke bar down the street is open late, they’ll love that,” you say with such enthusiasm, Sakusa felt guilty for how fast his smile dropped to the ground.
He was thankful enough the mask on his face managed to hide his idiotic smile, but he was even more grateful now for covering his disappointment. He continued to follow the length of your strides, silently walking you to the train station just as he’s done in the past.
He doesn’t say much else, simply nodding in agreement. Honestly, he should have known you’d think that’s what he meant. It would only be natural to celebrate a milestone like this with the rest of your coworkers, wouldn’t it? He was too presumptuous to think you’d want to be alone with him. God, he was starting to feel like a real idio—
“Jeez, no need to act so gloomy,” your voice cuts through his thoughts like a scalpel, and he turns to see you snickering into your palm, “I was just joking!”
He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing, blinking down at you confusedly as you roll your eyes.
“I won’t invite anyone else. We can celebrate, just us two,” you smile, reaching up to ruffle your fingers through the tufts of his curls, “Gosh, you’re so easy to read, Kiyoomi.”
He tugs his mask up higher on the bridge of his nose, praying to God you don’t see how much he enjoyed that.
But the soft smile on your face tells him you do, and maybe Sakusa likes that.
my husband suddenly became love"sick"?! ft. phainon
basically regressor au bc he lowkey fumbled in the past lifetime (and you died) so he pulled the uno reverse card and highkey turned back the time (pt2)
WARNING/S: yandere, obsessive behavior
EXTRA:
heh so uhh,,, i lowk rushed ts chapter because I was mad sleepy (i was planning on including more context like how the union is what's literally keeping yn alive: oops spoiler alert) but ehhhh,,, hope ya'll like it tehee, adios
The fact that like, there's no actual reason Wick's grandfather couldn't have just donated his money. Many people even think he did. And even if he didn't Beforehand, he could have just as easily put it in his will all his money went to the church, his daughter would have had basically no chance of contesting that. And like. Donating your wealth is a bare bones low ass bar move A LOT of people have made when joining the church? As a priest or a nun or whatever else that calls for it, you are committing yourself to a life of service and poverty or whatever, right? And I was raised boiler plate grab bag american bigotry Christian instead of anything specific as Catholic, but as far as I understand it's fucking normal for people to donate the wealth that they can't use to the organization they are joining, right?
But he wasn't going to do that. Cuz it was never about the church. It was about power, and control, and whether he lived in poverty no man who doesn't care about wealth gets an idea like specifically buying a luxury brand diamond. If it was purely about how much he believed his daughter was a sinner who deserved to be spited for not following the church, he would have fucking given the money to the church. But it wasn't. It was about her not being what he wanted. And it was going to be his money, not even until the day he died but past that.
The fact that Father Wicks died because he was so consumed by the need to punish his daughter for her "sins" that he literally swallowed 'Eve's Apple' is maddening to me, literally named it for original sin but was so caught up in attaching that sin to femininity that he killed himself over it. Literally named his daughter Grace and never gave her a single spec of it. Literally ate the apple too. Literally.
Now I'm pretty sure I'm just a stupid asian idiot talking out of my ass but I think the Knives Out trilogy has a big thread that pertains to the relationship of women and spirituality.
In Knives Out there's Joni Thrombey and in Glass Onion we have Birdie Jay, both largely biting, satirical takes on cishet white women who dress themselves up in New-Age Spirituality. Joni is seen meditating in her room and talking about her Zodiac sign, while Birdie has an understanding of chakras. They both use spirituality as an aesthetic, happy to label themselves with it but never anything beyond shallow perceptions. One scoffs and rolls her eyes at the bigotry spat out by the Thrombeys, but immediately sides with her elite in-laws in defending their wealth. The other is a dumbass who does blackface, wears a blood diamond and says slurs—unintentional, sure, but lacking any empathy or wisdom to right her wrongs, boldly going out during a pandemic crisis with a mask that does nothing to protect herself or others.
These two are women of immense privilege who see spirituality as nothing more than a fashion statement. But they do not practice it in any meaningful way.
So of course in Wake Up Dead Man, Rian Johnson doubles down on this with the core cast of women being the most affected by religion and faith, besides Father Jud.
Grace. Martha. Vera. Simone.
Grace, the most direct victim of the church's misogyny. Who is ostracized by her own father, denied her inheritance, and called a 'Harlot Whore' (fucking redundant, stupid-ass name), takes her own life in grief, and is demonized decades past her death.
Martha. As a Filipino raised in Catholicism, jesus fucking christ. A man in fine robes may stand at the front and he is to be heard, but it was the women who formed the backbone of every community in every Roman Catholic Church. They are the most enthusiastic volunteers for Christ, and they can also be the biggest perpetrators of the violence against women. Just like Martha. Both Victim and Perpetrator under the Patriarchal Church, Martha is used as a weapon against Grace, only to be thrown aside by Wicks, and only in the end does she realize what pain she put Grace through, just as she realizes the hardships she underwent to prop a man that never once gave a shit about her.
Vera, the most intelligent woman in the room, is forced to serve in a maternal role despite the fact that she has shown no inclination towards it. She raises a brother that isn't even related to her because she was loyal to her father and the church. She sacrificed her own happiness and peace of mind to raise a punk bitch who never once showed her the appreciation she deserved, manipulated by the two men she looked up to all her life. Her own ambitions, the flames that burn in her stamped out because of the men and the church and the faith that she clung to.
Simone, the ideal prey of many religious organizations. Wealthy, desperate, and isolated. A disabled cellist. Martha was the backbone, Vera the most obedient follower, and Simone the provider. It's said out loud that she's almost singlehandedly keeping the local church afloat by burning through her own savings just for a miracle, any fucking miracle from Wicks, so that she may finally be healed and pursue her talent once again. Drained her of her finances by a selfish conman who twisted his words and her belief just to fill his pockets.
We see how each are abused by the catholic church, and in the end it's so interesting as well how their relations to the faith end up.
Grace died with hatred against the church.
Martha died still keeping faith.
Vera left, implied that she may have turned away from the faith.
Simone, even with the deceptions against her, still keeps to the religion and perseveres, having a cross necklace as she fights through the pain to play the cello once more.
Idk what I was trying to say. I think it's just neat, how in the Knives Out Trilogy women interact with faith in different ways.
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