#real people can see you saying he deserved to die for Things That Happened To Them On Real Life
Text
Coming on here really quick to say that just because Benedict Bridgerton doesn't like society or tries to get away from girls at balls doesn't mean he's gay.
But actually, has everything to do with the fact that he's always been the second son. The first in line for Viscount if Anthony were to die before he has a male heir.
He's the spare.
The runner up.
Everyone's second choice. Nobody's first choice.
Hell, there's even a portion of the ton that doesn't even know his name. Just that he's a Bridgerton.
Him breaking from society rules is because he wants to have a purpose and doesn't see the ton as really having a purpose. It's just a marriage mart where people are auctioned off to the highest bidder. Real love matches don't happen that often. He's constantly fighting with who his last name is and trying to find himself apart from that last name. It's the name Bridgerton that matters to people not Benedict himself.
So, he finds something he enjoys. Art. Something where he can be himself. Express himself freely without judgement. Because art is what you make it. It's entirely up to the one in front of the canvas. And then what happens? He finds out that his brother bought his way into art school. Did you see how excited that precious golden retriever was when he got in? Aside from the fact that he was high as a damn kite when he read the letter, that was something that meant so much to him. And then in the end to find out all of your hard work, your labor of love, actually meant jack fucking shit to anyone because his brother tossed some cash at the school. And that was what mattered. A donation. Not Benedict himself and his talent.
Could Benedict be bisexual? Sure! I wouldn't have a problem with it on the condition that it was actually happening, and it was well written and had time given for character development. And it wasn't used just for ratings. They've already skipped his season once, to wait any longer doesn't make sense. And if they did it now and then immediately introduced Sophie people would just be bitching that they were Queer baited. When actually that's not what is fucking happening at all. I don't understand how Benedict going to a party held by his art mentor, walking in on him having sex with a man, getting pissed off at said art mentor for his gay lover trying to find a wife and that he is lying and manipulating women translates to Benedict being gay.
Luke Thompson has also said before that Benedict is a very open person, not necessarily sexualy, but open to life.
He needs to be in order to figure out who he is. Him being with Gen in season one was the viewers introduction to Benedict not giving two shits about society. That hard-working people are just as deserving for nice things and his company just as much as anyone else is. His threesome with Gen and Lady Granville was experimentation. That's cool and fine. IDK what's going on with Tilley Arnold (i mean I have two guesses and I don't like either one). But him sleeping with different women isn't him lying to himself about his sexuality. It's him trying to make a connection, trying to find something for himself that gives him that sense of purpose.
Then when he's at his lowest point...
SOPHIE BECKETT ENTERS THE FUCKING CHAT!
Anyway, my point is that all of Benedict's character development is leading him to Sophie.
Sophie Sophie Sophie.
Why?
She's the first person to get to know him. To understand the fact that he's not just a second son but a human being with emotions and talent and deserves to be celebrated for those talents and to have his emotions comforted (she calls his family out on it and gives two shits in doing so). Sophie Beckett is a girl who grew up in horrible conditions. Tormented by her stepmother and stepsister. Turned into a slave inside her own home. Her mother died giving birth to her and the Earl being her father isn't even something that's allowed to be talked about. He's cold and distant with her. Not to mention the fact that her stepmother embezzled her money. Straight up stole her dowry. She's been abused, mistreated and despite all of that, she's still a good fucking person. A person, a woman, who sticks to her principles because at the end of the day that's what she has. And she refuses to put a child in a situation like she grew up in.
They see parts of themselves in each other. Sophie lifts Benedict up to who he's meant to be. Gives him a purpose. Benedict calms Sophie protects her (and yeah Book!Ben does it in a really red flag kind of way) and shows her love for the first time in her entire life. Introduces her to a family who accepts her for who she is and loves her, not in spite of it, but for it.
I just don't understand why fandoms as a whole push sexualities onto characters. I understand the need for more representation, and I fully support that. But we should be creating more roles for those sexualities not just shoving them onto people. Especially when it's the woman of the heterosexual couple that always gets torn to shreds when a fandom decides that a man should be gay instead of straight. You can't give viewers the LGBT support they want and then shit on feminism in order to do it. Bridgerton introduced us to Granville and Lord Wetherby, they gave us a gay storyline that could have been really intriguing and heartbreaking and lovely and then they just didn't fucking do anything with it. Netflix (and other networks) don't actually give a crap about it, no matter how often they want us to believe they do. What do they care about? Ratings. That's legit it. They don't care about creating genuine stories for those of that community. They care about money.
Anyway, I'm rambling now.
IN THIS ESSAY I WILL!
#benedict bridgerton#posting my thoughts about this has been a long time coming#and i'm not the most well spoken person in the world but i'm so tired#of seeing some people's hot takes on characters#who make eye contact with someone of the same sex for five seconds#anyway it's benophie for me#i have strep throat so i'm gonna go curl up in bed and forget everything exists for a while
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
My opinion on billy hargrove as a character is so complicated but I think I can boil is down as: he is one of the few realistic interpretations of an imperfect abuse victim where his actions make you uncomfortable and it can be generally agreed he doesn’t take Good actions, but even just the slightest bit of thinking can make you understand why he does what he does. Why it makes sense to him.
You can look at him and go “I empathize with you, I understand you, I could’ve been you if I didn’t have a support system” or even “I WAS you” or “I AM you” and I think the reason he is so controversially liked/disliked is there is some inherent belief that somehow despite the way you were raised, you’re supposed to just inherently know what’s right and wrong. And yeah, once you’re in recovery you tend to learn what’s right and wrong, but nowhere in Billy’s story does anyone ever tell him the way he’s being treated is wrong. No one tells him the actions he’s taking because of it are wrong. Or on the other hand, he is punished so universally for his behavior it is hard to discern when his actions are actually wrong, or if he’s being treated unfairly. He is never shown empathy or understanding until quite literally, the moment he dies.
The message of his story is that when you are isolated, abused, and angry, no one tries to help you until it’s already too late. So yeah, I think anyone can dislike a character for any reason they want, but writing him off as an abusive racist when the quite literally Point Of His Character is “this is what can happen to a person when they are never given kindness/empathy/support and it warps their morals and actions to be violent and/or prejudiced” is just. Wrong. Especially when that includes attacking people who empathize with his character.
Regardless of if you like it or not, there are real people who were like that, are like that, and they deserve love, support, and empathy as much as any “‘perfect’” abuse victim that never perpetuated the cycle. Anger is simply a product of the fear that comes with abuse. Redirecting that anger at others is a learned behavior that comes with coping with that abuse, it’s not right, but you can’t unlearn it unless you’re given a chance to heal. Every abuse victim deserves support and a chance to heal and learn from their past actions and mindsets. Understanding a mindset is not the same thing as condoning it.
So please for the love of god, leave people alone when they write a happy ending for someone they see themselves in.
#billy hargrove#stranger things#stranger things 4#writing#discourse#like. yes watching the show is actions are upsetting and they’re Supposed To Be#you don’t have to like him!! just don’t attack people who like him and act like he’s some horrible completely unforgivable person#real people see that actually#real people can see you saying he deserved to die for Things That Happened To Them On Real Life#and you can be uncomfortable with racism in any context!!#but just like. keep in mind real people can see your shit online#no he’s not a real person but there are plenty of people like him that want to see him have a happy ending#i think people generally write this type of abuse victim badly#where their anger doesn’t Really Relate to the abuse and it comes off as like#oh you’re being bullied? well that person might have something happening at home!!#that’s not really the case with billy#yeah he’s just a dick sometimes but when he’s Really Violent it is out of a belief he is somehow protecting himself or someone else#anyway. long post
230 notes
·
View notes
Text
Feel like one of the best ways you can convince someone that no, villains with compelling motives that have sad backstories are not terrible writing compared to straight up born evil villains who just want to kill everyone and be done with it, is to tell them that Warrior Cats writes born evil villains constantly while literally preaching “That’s how evil works, you can’t CHANGE, you’re either touched by demons at birth or you aren’t!” and it blows chunks
#brokenstar tigerstar hawkfrost darktail one eye etc etc would all be so much more interesting if they werent so one note#and just had ‘’born evil’’ slapped on as their explanation for being evil#‘’ew why are you woobifying tigerstar’’ because i think a villain who feels emotion besides ‘’evil’’ and ‘’angry’’ and actually does care#about his clanmates but is also a bigot that deserves to be beaten down is more interesting than canon#to get like real world political here… abusive people and bigots like. are not one note born evil demons#they have loved ones and reasons for turning out the way they did. and im not saying that to go ‘’so you need to give them grace!’’#im saying that because the line of thinking that every bad person is a super obvious mustache twirling villain with no soul#makes it so that people justify abuse and crimes from REAL people. like ‘’oh my friend says some racist things but he isnt BAD! he loves me!#would an abusive person be nice to his wife in public? of course not!’’#and its rhetoric like that that lets abuse and bigotry thrive. if you put the world in categories of born evil and born good#then you will dismiss all the ‘’good’’ people in your life who have done horrible things with ‘’but she donated to charity once’’#i mean. hell this LITERALLY happens in wc where the ‘’born good’’ characters are abusive and murderously xenophobic#where characters like clear sky and blackstar just get a sticker like ‘’oh you cant be TOO mad at them! theyre good at heart!’’#‘’ignore all the times they killed vulnerable people for the crime of being born somewhere they didnt like! they were nice to a kid once!’’#the message there is literally ‘’bad people cant REALLY be bad if theyre nice to people sometimes’’#like. im not even mad at clear sky being motivated by witnessing his loved ones starve to death for why hes such an abusive control freak#thats an interesting reason to become a villain especially since the change happened when he was put in a position of power#the problem is not him having a sad backstory. the problem is the erins think his sad backstory means he was never that bad#and anyone who’s upset at him can go eat shit and die cause he looked sad#like. i get this line of thinking often comes from writers doing this for abuse apologism and just wanting to see abusers be held accountabl#accountable#but how exactly does it help victims of abuse to portray abusers and bigots in a christian ‘’touched by the devil’’ light
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Every time I read or watch Lord of the Rings I can’t help but think about how Tolkien had survived one of the bloodiest, most cruel, most dirtiest and darkest wars in human history, came back and wrote this:
“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
And this:
"'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo.
'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.'"
And this:
"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."
And this:
“Many that live deserve death and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be so eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the wise cannot see all ends."
And this:
“True courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.”
And clearly they were all written partly because he survived the war, because of what he’d seen and done and learned. But at the same time the unwillingness to lose faith, the courage and strength that this man had to believe in these things after going through hell! It makes the nihilists look so cheap, so uninteresting! People who’ve went through concentration camps and wars believe in humanity anyway, isn’t that proof that hope and love exist? And many, many, many of them did not return or returned broken and cruel and traumatised to the point when no faith in others was possible for them, and nobody can blame them. But there were many who refused to lose faith and hope. They have seen some of the worst that life has to offer and came back believing that we shouldn’t be eager to deal out death in judgement and should love only that which the sword defends.
No matter how many people say that humanity is horrible and undeserving of love, and life is dark and worthless, and love doesn’t exist I remember this and have hope anyway. Because there were people who have actually had all reason to believe in the worst and still believed in the good, so the good must be real. The good is real, even despite the evil, and we must trust in it.
#tolkien#jrr tolkien#lord of the rings#lotr#the hobbit#jirt#silmarillion#beren and luthien#john ronald reuel tolkien#frodo baggins#gandalf#gandalf the grey#gandalf the white#galadriel#quotes#book quotes#lotr quotes#world war one#ww1
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi Neil.
I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.
First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.
So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…
Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)
Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.
Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.
(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)
I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.
But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.
I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.
But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.
I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.
It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.
I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.
My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”
But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.
In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.
Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”
As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.
I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…
The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.
So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.
People always say “it’s never too late.”
One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”
I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”
It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.
Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”
But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.
Whew.
So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.
And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.
Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.
Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m Your Man ୨ৎ
Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Tags: angst(?), established relationship, out of character(?) n probably more..
Song: I’m Your Man - Mitski
A/N: i really don’t know about this one.. give me your thoughts tho!
Alastor is known as a huge narcissist, sure but you were the only one who got to see the “real” him, not only the real murderous side of him but also the soft spot he has for you. You made him feel.. weak?
Ever since you two got together, he view you as you were apart of him like an accessory but also much more than that, his lover. He absolutely adored you, you really accepted his flaw self even if he doesn’t admit he doesn’t have flaws.
He never wanted to admit to so many things cause he believes one second of him showing his weak self will make his enemies aware of that and it will put him and yourself in even more danger.
You were also the only one who got to see him in a vulnerable state, which is rare to be honest. Maybe he doesn’t wanna worry you, he really doesn’t but every time he’s in that state he would always come to you and you will listen to his words.
“You’re an angel, I’m a dog,” He started to slowly say as you two were in the hotels library. The door was locked, the sound of rain and fire cracking could be heard and a sweet slow tune next to you as you play with his hair and ears carefully.
“… or your dog and I’m your man.” There was times were he gets.. poetic in some way. Luckily, you knew what the meaning of his words meant.
He didn’t looked at you in the eyes. “You believe me like a God,” He continued. “I’ll destroy you like I am-” Oh, he could. He could easily hurt you in a second, he doesn’t tho. You being so near to him is like a risk to both of you cause he never hesitates to do anything. Like that night..
“I’m sorry I’m the one you love..” You see, you two met when you were alive, you were a lil bit younger than him by that time and he involved you into his weird habits like killing people, cannibalism, so much more and then your death..
Deep down, he blamed himself for that. That night, he took you into the woods to hide a body, usually it went well but then you guys got mistaken as a deer and the hunter got you first.. he looked at you dead body and then- he woke up in hell.
He couldn’t even process what happened in that exact moment so when he appeared in hell, he wasn’t surprised at all but then he remembered you. He genuinely thought you went to heaven but then again.. you helped him so he looked around.
“No one will ever love me like you again, my dear,” He finally looked at you as he grabbed you hand and gave it a small kiss. “So when you leave me, I should die.. I deserve it, don’t I?”
You froze a bit at that. You looked at him with a surprised, shocked and worried expression. “Al-” “I can feel it gettin’ near like flashlights comin’..” You wanted to tell him how much you meant you him, how even if he’s not the affectionate type or how much of a bad he is, you still loved him ever since the day you met but-
“One day, you’ll figure me out..” There was apart him that you really didn’t knew and he feared that. He feared that one day you’ll know more about him, more deeper about him and leave him. You knew his murderous way, yes but do you actually?
“I’ll meet judgement by the hounds,” A silent scratchy static could be heard as he said the last word. He was still smiling as he spoke.
“You always gave me love, you were never to blame after all, mon ange..” He looked at you with a bit of sad soft eyes as he cups your cheek and his thumb strokes your under eye.
The sudden sound of dogs start to appear outside in the rain. You two looked at each other as you had watery eyes trying not to get emotional or anything. There was silence between you two until-
“You believe me like a God-” A tear fell down your cheek. You suddenly hug him, not too tight, just enough to show him that you cared about him and you didn’t care how he really is.
He started to caress your hair. “I’ll betray you like a man.”
© LAINSSHOP 2024
307 notes
·
View notes
Text
AU where Sanji never actually left Germa, and Judge made him a test subject early on, successfully getting rid of his empathy after years of torture.
But like, he has those years of bullying from his brothers first, and his empathy’s gone but his anger’s still there. Also with no Zeff, he fights with his fists and doesn’t treat women Like That. Because Zeff’s the one who instilled in him to never hit a woman (and made it weird but that’s not the point).
He’s out on some mission in the Grand Line when he runs into the Straw Hats and he sees Zoro’s green hair and associates it with Yonji and he just haaaates him on sight.
The fight is super evenly matched and Zoro manages to knock him out eventually but he’s like what’s the guy’s DEAL. Wtf is his problem.
Maybe Law’s with them when it goes down and he recognizes that costume and fanboys…
Oh actually yeah— Law’s with them! And after Zoro knocks him out, Law goes into Creepy Surgeon Mode and is like for the love of god please let me get my fingers in that chest cavity
And everyone else (bar Robin ofc) is like Σ（ﾟдﾟlll）
But Law gets a room going and finds all sort of odd Germa technology literally implanted in him and starts pulling it out and messing with it and suddenly Sanji wakes UP and he’s— he’s scared. And overwhelmed. He’s in real time having to reckon with years of torturing people.
And Law’s like oh the emotional part of this is not in my pay grade this is not my job anymore and dips.
So Sanji’s there in the Sunny’s infirmary like “I’m a monster I need to be put down oh my god” and Luffy shows up like HEY you’re cool as hell join my crew.
Zoro is not a fan of this option and also it turns out neither is Sanji BUT sanji has nowhere to go so he makes a deal to sail with them until the next habitable island. So Zoro watches him like a hawk bc he’s like “you’re definitely faking this and are gonna turn evil and try to kill people again right”
But instead he just keeps finding Sanji being really pathetic and sad and looking longingly at the kitchen (Robin doubles as the cook and her food is damn near inedible but that’s just the life of a pirate innit)
Late one night Zoro comes off watch and he sees Sanji sneaking into the kitchen and he thinks OH he’s going to try to POISON US so he sneaks in after him and confronts him, swords and all. And Sanji, who knows what an awful person he’s been and knows he deserves death, just starts crying and is like “yeah you can kill me just let me cook one thing once I just want to remember what it feels like”
So Zoro lets him cook, and is like yeah I’m killing you after this, and Sanji spends a long time sniffling as he re-familiarizes himself with pots and pans and spices and knives and ends up making something garlic-y and delicious that smells strong enough to wake up the crew, and everyone traipses in enraptured by the smell. So Sanji serves them and Zoro tries it first because if it’s poisoned he’s not letting EVERYONE go down. But it’s not poisoned and it’s really good, and anyway Zoro can’t kill him now in front of everyone.
But three nights later the same thing happens— he sees Sanji sneaking into the kitchen and follows him and Sanji says “I know you should’ve killed me last time but you couldn’t, I get that, but I’m dangerous. So let me cook just one more time and then you can kill me.”
And it doesn’t happen of course. Everyone comes in and everyone eats and Zoro watches Sanji recover a little of himself.
And so it goes. At first every few nights and then every other night, and then every single night.
And whenever Zoro comes in, Sanji says, I know I deserve to die but let me cook just one more thing.
And at some point Zoro stops thinking about killing Sanji. He’s a part of the crew now. He’s proving himself, and anyway Zoro can beat him and hold him down and Law can reverse whatever it is again if needs be.
So it’s just a thing they do. Zoro lightly threatens him and Sanji begs for his life and they move on. It’s routine but it doesn’t actually MEAN anything anymore.
That is, until one really bad night where Sanji doesn’t show up in the kitchen like he always does, and Zoro goes looking and finally finds him deep in the steerage, and Sanji says, “I can’t keep living like this, please just kill me. I can’t keep living knowing I’m going to die the next day.”
And Zoro’s like ???? You’re not gonna die the next day wtf
And Sanji says, please, just get it over with.
Zoro realizes that Sanji has continued all this time assuming Zoro really is coming to kill him every night
But it’s been MONTHS at this point. Surely he wouldn’t still think—
But Sanji’s wracked with more than a decade’s worth of guilt, is so sure he deserves the worst the world possibly has to offer.
Too bad Zoro’s a little in love with him at this point. And says anyone who wants to kill Sanji will have to go through Zoro first.
Which Sanji DOESNT UNDERSTAND and he doesn’t understand the kiss Zoro follows it up with, but he returns it. Greedily.
Because as much as he knows he deserves death, he also relishes every moment of life, every chance to feel the emotions he wasn’t allowed. And Zoro goes from jailer to protector in his mind. Slowly. Hesitantly.
He spends years working through the trauma, decades really, but the simplicity with which Zoro sees the world helps. Zoro doesn’t blame him. Zoro loves him. Sanji doesn’t know much but he knows he’ll defend this ship that saved him with his life.
And he knows Zoro wouldn’t let Sanji defend HIM with his life, because Zoro views his life as precious and important.
Which is something Sanji is still learning.
He’ll get there.
#zosan#it’s always a toss up what fics to write vs what to just throw out into the void like this#uhhhhh I need a tag for this#would this go in the Zosan fanfic tag I dunno if that’s just for finished fic#my writing#I guess that works#anyway cross posted from twitter since I have like 3 followers lmao#and tbh it’s been a week I’m still thinking about this#(I’m thinking about writing omegaverse Zosan more tho)#(and ptsd law who’s scared of luffy)#(too little time in the world)
223 notes
·
View notes
Note
thank you so much for that excellent chani post. i've seen some annoying takes on twitter about how not making her totally devoted and subservient to paul makes her 'unlikeable' and i'm like. buddy. i think that speaks more to how you see women. than anything about her. this chani is very dynamic and interesting to me.
i'll be honest and say i've not read the books. this is me speaking from what i've seen of summaries, but i think giving her a real cause to fight for yet also genuinely loving paul gives her an interesting struggle, and also plays into how the portrayal of the fremen (seems to me to be) more diverse and nuanced. as in, the fremen themselves seem to have more of a push-and-pull to them. the clarification of how different fremen believe differently (the south being more fundamentalist) is a very important thing to include in a movie where you can run into the danger of saying that all adherents to a foreign, islam-adjacent (in coding) religion are all fundamentalists. that can (in less nuanced hands) be a pretty irresponsible thing. so showing that there's also more secular/pragmatic/less dogmatic sectors of the culture seems a pretty good counterweight.
so yeah. this is how i processed it as a movie-goer. and having chani represent that aspect (believing in people over prophecy, action over religion) and having stilgar as the humanized face of the southern peoples (showing that yknow, regardless of being fundamenist beliefs, theyre still PEOPLE with the capacity for love, friendship, honor) makes total logical sense. you're not just "telling" us that there's different aspects to fremen culture, you're SHOWING us by showing different characters who represent those aspects, without demonizing either or turning either into a one-note stereotype.
Thank you! I'm not someone who was a long-term fan of the books before the movie came out (I tried reading Dune as a teenager when I was reading a lot of classic sci-fi but found it too boring) but I did read Dune and Dune Messiah after the first movie came out, both because I wanted to know what happened next and because I wanted to have an opinion on how the movies worked as adaptations.
(book and movie spoilers below and also I basically ended up writing a whole essay in response to this)
My single biggest frustration with the book is that after they arrive at Sietch Tabr and Jessica drinks the Water of Life and becomes Reverend Mother...the book up and skips two years of the story and when we next see Paul he's already got Fremen followers who are ready to die for him and he's in an established relationship with Chani. Oh I was SO MAD when I got to this part. I was like FRANK. FRANK!!!! Did you seriously just skip two years of the most interesting part of your own story???
The thing is, even though I know that Frank Herbert's intention was to write a critique of the idea that oppressed people need an enlightened external (white) savior to liberate them...if you don't provide an alternate explanation for what's happening then you end up falling into some Orientalist tropes anyway. And because, in the book, we don't see the process of how your average background fedaykin comes to trust Paul as a military and political leader, there is nothing in the text to counter the idea that the Fremen are a bunch of unquestioning religious fanatics easily swayed to do violence by belief in a prophecy.
My second biggest frustration with the book is that we're given no reason at all why Chani would fall in love with Paul. While she has some memorable scenes, she doesn't have a lot to do as a character in the book, and she's missing from a whole chunk of the end...because she's in the south...because she and Paul have a baby, Leto II, who's then killed off-page when the sardaukar attack the south. (I'm honestly really glad they cut this from the film, because it never seemed to be given the narrative weight it deserved in the book.)
So you can imagine how happy I was when the Villeneuve movies figured out how to address both these frustrations by tying them together. The fedaykin don't just blindly accept Paul because of some prophecy. They come to trust him because he proves himself as a fighter, and because he starts out from a place of genuine solidarity and humility--which it is possible for him to do because he has no structural power over them at that point. And Chani falls in love with him for the same reason, in that heady environment of fighting side by side for a political cause, and maybe for the first time in a while starting to believe that you can win.
I think the Villeneuve movies improve a lot on what's in the book in terms of how the Fremen are portrayed...when we're with the fedaykin and/or Chani and Stilgar. There we see political debates and discussion and the fact that not all the Fremen think the same way. And we also see little humanizing moments of folks just hanging out, celebrating after a victory in battle and just shooting the shit and being friends.
I do wish the movie had extended this to more parts of Fremen society. If there's one thing I could have added, it would be seeing more of daily life in Sietch Tabr. It makes sense that when we're seeing things from Jessica's POV, she is more distant from and suspicious of the Fremen, seeing them as a force to be manipulated, but I wish we had even one or two scenes of people just being people in the sietch. It felt kind of weirdly empty and not particularly lived-in as a place, and I think they could've easily countered this, with scenes from Chani, Stilgar or Paul's POV, and that would have made it hit even harder when the sietch is attacked.
If there were two things I could have added, I wanted more exploration of the people of the south. Why are they more fundamentalist than the Fremen who live in the north? (We get one line about how "nothing can survive [in the south] without faith" but I wanted more than that.) While I think the movie did a fantastic job of humanizing and differentiating the Fremen we see around Paul, when we get to the south it does backslide a little into "undifferentiated mass of fanatics." Surely the people of the south also have some diversity of political views.
I think there are some interesting threads they could have pulled on in terms of how proximity to direct colonial violence shapes people's ideology. Sietch Tabr is one of the closest Fremen communities to Arrakeen, the seat of colonial control. They have probably had to mount some kind of armed resistance for generations just to keep from being wiped out. I can see that producing skepticism of the prophecy ("well I can't sit around waiting for a messiah but I do have this rocket launcher") as well as resentment at the idea of someone swooping in and taking credit for a struggle that you've put your life on the line for, and probably a lot of people you know have died for. There seem to be some generational differences, too, where young people of Chani's generation put less stock in the prophecy, while the true believers are mostly older. I can see faith in the prophecy coming out of despair--when you've been fighting for decades with no change, maybe you draw the conclusion that only an outside power coming to your aid will make a difference. While the people of the south are still under colonial rule, maybe being generally outside the reach of direct Harkonnen violence (the Harkonnens don't even know they're there) makes the concepts of both oppression and liberation feel more abstract and more receptive to being filled in with Bene Gesserit mysticism. It seems absurd to want more from a movie that's nearly three hours long already...but I wanted more of this.
Still, I do think they managed to improve on a lot of things that frustrated me or are simply dated about the book, while keeping the political thriller/war drama/epic tragedy elements that I think are the heart of the story, and in some cases drawing them out more clearly and effectively than the book did. The best kind of book-to-film adaptation imo is one that has a strong point of view in terms of what the story is About, on a large-scale thematic level, and is not afraid to change individual elements of canon in service of telling that story the most effective way possible in a cinematic medium. While there are always things I want more of, I feel like Denis Villeneuve really, really understood the assignment in terms of the overarching themes of the the story and he delivered so fucking well.
144 notes
·
View notes
Text
‘Our Flag Means Death’ Star Rhys Darby on Stede’s Transformations & Hopes for Season 3
[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Our Flag Means Death Season 2 Episode 8 “Mermen.”]
Our Flag Means Death saw Gentleman pirate Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) transform from a fish-out-of-water swashbuckler into the romantic hero he was always destined to be in the latest season of Max‘s original comedy.
After realizing the error of his ways at the end of Season 1, Stede sought redemption in the eyes of the infamous Blackbeard, a.k.a. Ed (Taika Waititi), after recognizing he was in love with the pirate. While the path wasn’t a direct one, they eventually found their way back to one another with the help of a fantastical mermaid sequence, some much-needed apologies, and ultimately a better string of communication.
Reflecting on his journey, star Rhys Darby is opening up about Stede’s various transformations in Season 2, including the excitement surrounding that mermaid tail, as well as about where he thinks the pirate lovebirds might end up next should the series return for Season 3.
Congrats on Season 2! Now that we can finally talk about it, what has it been like getting to see fan reactions, especially during the SAG-AFTRA strike?
Rhys Darby: Yeah, it was like a pressure cooker that needed to burst, for us and for the fans. When it finally came out, the burst happened and there was so much love for us, [but we] couldn’t talk about it. We were still stuck in this bottle and the cork wouldn’t come off, and that was difficult, but it was really lovely to see all the love and the surprise from everyone. Obviously, as you know, the fan artwork, it’s what we would say in New Zealand is pretty full on. So yeah, it was super cool.
And not that anyone gives out numbers, but I think I heard on the ethos that people [are] watching it, and it’s rating really high and at a time when we need this kind of beautiful love fest of comedy with a whole bunch of silliness to take us away from the disasters that are happening in the world. It’s been lovely. I just wish it was longer. I know people watch and rewatch and they’re so fanatical, but it’s just a comedy show, so to have any effect means so much to us.
In Season 2, Stede’s gone through a few transformations, one of which is that he’s a real pirate now, at least comparatively to Season 1. What helped you get into that new version of him? Was it the writing, costumes, or a combination of the two?
Yeah, the costumes are the first thing that comes to mind because once he starts wearing different gear, he looks at himself and goes, “Oh my God, I’m a different man.” And he really is turning from a man who is wearing these beautiful gowns with high heels and things inappropriate for a pirate ship to becoming an Errol Flynn-type hero straight away. That’s what they wanted to do with the character. So he’s lost a lot of that beautiful pageantry and is becoming a more practical guy who has to survive. He returns to this nightmare of a world because he wants to fight for love, and for want of a better term, “man up,” whatever the modern-day version of that is, “person up?” To become the guy that he dreamt of being in the first season.
He didn’t dream that he was going to fall in love with someone. He dreamt he was going to be this amazing pirate and that just was not going to happen. But then when he found this love, I think he went away from that [dream] going, “I don’t deserve this.” And then when he realized upon returning home that he does deserve it, he had to fight for it. And so the only way to fight for it was to drop the battle armor of the gowns and actually become the pirate he imagined being. So it was great to become that and to fight for that love and to thank god that [Blackbeard] didn’t die. He would’ve actually lost it, I think, because it would’ve been like, “Well, what am I fighting for now?”
I think it was just so fun to see that character change, but also within that change, see a bit of the old self come through, especially when he found that cursed red suit. And all of a sudden it was like, “Oh my God, the old me again, look how good I look!” So it was lovely that they had those elements… I was missing a little bit of the old Stede myself. So it was great to find that again. And then again near the end with the British invasion scenario where I got to do the big coat and everything, which of course looked awesome. You can see that moment where I put it on and did that slow turnaround. It was way more filmic shots of me wearing that kind of stuff. And I think that gave Stede's strength as well. So much of Stede's embodiment comes from the things he’s wearing.
Speaking of costumes, the big one of the season had to be Stede’s mermaid look. How did you wrap your head around getting ready for such a fantastical, and ultimately, beautiful scene?
That was the highlight of the whole season for me. As a kid, I used to swim around like a little merkid. I would put my legs together and I’d swim under the water. I’ve always been into mermaids and things because I’m into cryptozoology. So when I got to be a mermaid or a merman, I really took to it. It was pretty easy, to be honest with you. I didn’t have any training to swim like that. So the only training I did was some breath work beforehand to help me hold my breath longer. But that was kind of almost superfluous. Once I got that [tail] on, I just became a mermaid. It’s hard for me to describe how I suddenly become these things, but I think I just got under the water. I could swim really easily with it.
And I had weights on. So one of the things was we had to make sure I was the right weight so that I wouldn’t just float. That thing was sort of buoyant. So once we sorted that out, I could actually swim really well, and then just sort of hover underneath the water for a long time while [Taika]’s looking at me, I’m looking at him. To see it on the day, on the screen when I knew they’d got [the shot], there were just so many cheers, and I think they even played the music to see how the scene would work out. It’s one of those life moments where you go, “Oh my God, I’m becoming a cryptid again. I’m never going to forget this.”
This season really does focus even more on Stede and Blackbeard’s romance. How did you and Taika prepare for that? Especially since Stede’s more transparent about his feelings this time around.
It was good, and it was time. And because I was the new strong Stede, it felt really natural for me. I think it just worked really well with the writing because of the aggression that I was going through. When I was fighting that really bad guy [Ned Low (Bronson Pinchot) and] threw a violin at him because he ruined Calypso’s birthday, that was a good moment because it is not just about Ed, it’s about the crew, Stede’s family, and they were going through this amazing moment there, and all of a sudden this guy turns up and next thing we’re getting tortured. And I’m like, “How dare you?”
I think that progression of strength helped [Stede] break into the moment of, “I’m just going to take my lover as well now, and do something with him.” He probably had no idea what he was doing because it’s Stede, but it worked out and it was the right time in the show. Taika and I are really good mates, so it’s really easy to do emotional scenes together. As soon as we put our gear on, we’re just looking at that character, and we admire each other.
You and Taika have been known to improv on the show. Was there any improv moment from Season 2 you were particularly proud to see onscreen?
Yeah. Well, one, I noticed that some people are talking about that they thought was scripted, which wasn’t — most of the [scenes where] I’m with Taika are improvised in those emotional close moments — is on the deck of the boat where we’d do the thumb thing. That was all improvised on the day. So that was fun that we got that kind of stuff in. And there were some more little bits and pieces, but that’s one that comes to mind. That worked really well.
By the end of Season 2, Stede and Blackbeard have settled in to open their own inn. Do you think the peace and quiet will last in a possible third season, or will they get bored and want to rejoin the excitement?
Well, obviously as it stands now, it’s very lovely and it’s a nice positive ending, which is lovely for Season 2. But in reality, if you think about the characters, even in the fictional world, they’re both outlaws, they’re pirates, and the British back then… they never gave up. They did track down all the pirates and either hang them or get rid of them. There was only a couple that got away, and it certainly wasn’t those two. So I think what they’re thinking is, yes, this is bliss, but both those characters must be thinking, this is not going to last because you’ve got to sleep with one eye open.
Even though they’re in the middle of nowhere, they’re still in an area where everyone knows what they are, so they’re going to be tracked down. So I think if it was me, [they’d] end up back in action one way or another, especially if their inn is popular, which it probably would be. Word would get around. I mean, in those days, had you heard the Blackbeard and Stede had opened up an inn, [you’d have] to check that one out. It’ll be like Planet Hollywood.
There would be a wait-list, for sure.
Yeah, absolutely. Basically, they’re too famous now that Stede’s killed Ned and everything. He’s a famous pirate. So death is going to come to their door at some point. They’ll have to deal with it.
Do you think this version of Stede and Blackbeard’s story could avoid the fate of the real-life pirates?
Yeah, no, I think you’re dreaming if you think they’re going to live happily ever after.
Our Flag Means Death, Seasons 1-2, Streaming now, Max
Source: TV Insider
#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd s2 spoilers#behind the scenes#rhys darby#taika waititi#interview#tv insider
361 notes
·
View notes
Text
if you think people are more empathetic to women than men you are straight up fucking delusional. men have proved themself almost INCAPABLE of empathy for women, and this is statistically and empirically supported. they are incapable of understanding that women have an internal life, do not see us as humans with emotions who exist external to them.
look at the comments on a post of a man talking about self harm vs a woman. "men's mental health matters too🥺" "I'm proud of you" vs "attention whore" "sideways for attention downwards for results" "ugly bitch trying to get sympathy"
this is what happens for ANYTHING regarding sexual assault, mental health, suffering, trauma.
or an overweight man vs woman
"keep your head up king👑" "you got this bro, I believe in you" "these women don't deserve you." (like totally unprompted not discussing relationships) Or often no comments on his weight at all if he's not talking about it.
For a woman, no matter WHAT she is posting about "landwhale" "starve yourself" "put down the burger" "kys fat b*tch" and the most vile and insanely cruel comments
The amount of threads and forums dedicated to eviscerating degrading and insulting overweight women on places like lolcow and kiwi farms and just social media in general and I genuinely have never seen one for a man.
Same thing with things like facial deformities, the comments are unbelievably cruel to these women.
the level of vitriol is not even remotely comparable, and I don't even think it's mostly a double standard. I think they just lack the capacity to feel empathy towards women and perceive them as human and capable of feeling pain. Things are solely perceived in how they relate to them and thought to be performances for men. Women exist to serve them and if they don't give them a boner they don't deserve to be alive. If something, no matter how innocuous, pisses them off in the slightest they don't have a single qualm because they just don't view them as real people and full human beings with internal lives. women having emotions is inherently manipulative, anything they say or do is a performance for men.
And like look at things such as the gender credibility gap
https://www.tedxmilehigh.com/gender-credibility-gap/
Women are systematically less believed as witnesses in a courtroom, reporters, academic authorities, in claims of sexual assault, discrimination, or harassment.*
Women's reports of pain symptoms are less likely to be believed by doctors, and they are staggering more likely to not receive proper medication, go undiagnosed and untreated. Women are 32% more likely to die post-op if their surgeon is a man. "Womens' pain not taken as seriously as mens' pain. Researchers found that when male and female patients expressed the same amount of pain, observers viewed female patients' pain as less intense "(sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/04/210406164124.htm) "Nearly three-quarters of cases where a disease primarily affects one gender, the so-called “men's diseases” are overfunded, while the “women's diseases” are dramatically underfunded."
https://www.concernusa.org/story/gender-bias-in-healthcare/ https://www.washingtonpost.com/wellness/interactive/2022/women-pain-gender-bias-doctors/ https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/gender-bias-in-medical-diagnosis#how-does-it-affect-diagnosis https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/women-and-pain-disparities-in-experience-and-treatment-2017100912562
I could literally go on on this topic forever.
The gender empathy gap is a form of epistemic violence against women.
* "Suicidal behaviour and self-harm in women can be viewed by family, health professionals and the community as attention-seeking, manipulative and non-serious, which can negatively influence how young women are treated." (Curtis, 2016)
*Men with overweight tend to be perceived as wise or experienced, while women's credibility tends to decrease with excess weight... women seem to experience higher levels of weight stigmatization than men, even at lower levels of excess weight (Flint et al., 2016)
*Women are at greater risk for weight/height discrimination than men (Puhl et al, 2008)
*so many papers on this but "Across the board, women are perceived to be less credible than men. Especially women’s testimonies of rape and sexual harassment are widely trivialized and disregarded, even though reports of sexual abuse are not more likely to be false than reports of other crimes" (Schreurs, 2020)
more like Mack, 1993
984 notes
·
View notes
Text
Trouble Next Door Part 21: Practice Date
Masterlist: here
TW: None
Tag List: @sinczir @rach5ive @bruher @kellyxo1 @tiannamortis @makingmunson94 @angelina16torres-blog @tlclick73 @gretavankleep37 @melaninjhs @amira0303 @robyn-118 @jaydaaasworld @squidscottjeans @rockstarmunsons @alanamarie @dandelionnfluff @aol19 @eddiesguitarskills @vampdaisy @br66klynbaby @raven-rust @daisyridleyyyy @i-love-ptv @josephquinnsfreckles @mrsjellymunson @hideoutside @eddiemunson-fanfic @paprikaquinn @burns-in-the-sun @cherrycolas-things @exploding-bonbon @krazyk99 @idkbbyx3 @amberpanda99
A/N: I included this as a regular part because it’s important to the storyline, also…y’all might not like how this ends but please just have faith in me I know exactly where this story is going and how it’s gonna end✨
“These…are for you.” “Oh Eddie these are so pretty thank you…uh please come in while I put these in a vase.” “You’re so kind…uhm so…how was your day?” “It was good I finally got the box of Halloween stuff down from the attic.” “I told you’d I’d help you get it…all you had to do was wait for me.” “You know I don’t have the patience for that…how was your day?” “It was fine…Henderson’s mom’s minivan is a fucking nightmare to work on but I got it done.” “I swear she just messes with stuff to make it stop running just so she can come and see you.” “You’re so delusional…you ready?” “Yeah…let me grab my purse and we can go.” “Now before you say anything…I talked Rick into letting me borrow his car…figured your first date back on the town deserved something better than my run down van.” “Oh don’t be silly Eddie I love that van…uhm…Did you clean it?” “Oh course I did….as if I’d let you sit on anything that belongs to Rick without bleaching it first.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” “I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your wedding day…is that a bobby-pin in your hair?” “You’re so annoying…I just wanted to look nice…and yeah they keep my hair from falling out of the bun…” “sorry..you look good Eddie that’s all I’m trying to say.” “Thank you…you look nice too…I always like when you wear that shade of green…it makes your eyes stand out.” “So…what happens now? After the obligatory complements?” “We just talk you weirdo.” “Okay…uhm…oh do you remember when you knocked on my door for the first time when we were like eleven to ask me if I wanted to play?” “Yeah…you practically threw yourself off your steps and into my arms you were so excited.” “I just was so happy to finally have a friend…who would’ve thought we’d still be friends after all these years? It’s crazy right? Friends don’t normally last this long…we haven’t even had a real fight before.” “Uh excuse me? Yes we have.” “Don’t start.” “Don’t start? Why? Because you still know that I’m right and you refuse to admit it?” “You’re not right…you’re extremely wrong and I’ve proven it to you time and time again.” “He wasn’t the first kill because we don’t know if he was dead by the time she actually died.” “Of course he was dead! They gutted him from the back! She was alive way after he died.” “You’re just so wrong because it takes a long time for someone to bleed out like that…he was totally still alive when she was dying.” “I know you want to believe that she was the first death in Scream but she just wasn’t…she watches her boyfriend get killed that’s why she starts to freak the fuck out!” “No she freaks out because a killer is threatening her on the phone and she just watched her boyfriend get stabbed….not die.” “Edward James Munson you know damn well he was dead!” “Shhhh! This is a fancy ass establishment you can’t go shouting about dead people.” “I need another glass of wine…”
“What are we doing here?” “It wouldn’t be an outing for us if we didn’t make a pit stop at some swings…” “will you push me?” “Aren’t you too old to need me to push you?” “I don’t need you to push me Eddie…I just like it when you do.” “fine…so…how’s it going so far? Feel like you could do this again?” “I’d give it an eight out of ten…and yeah I think so…it’s not as scary as I thought it was going to be.” “You thought a date with me was going to be scary?” “I just…I was nervous.” “Why? It’s just me…nothing to be nervous about.” “That’s true…what about you? Could you do this again?” “Oh yeah…I could totally do this again…maybe not the swings though..that’s just an us thing.” “Damn right it is…I better not hear about you taking anyone else to the park besides me or I’ll be upset.” “You’re so dramatic after a few glasses of wine.” “You love it though.” “Yeah…I do.”
“Ah here we are…home sweet home…mind if I come inside?” “That’s so bold of you to ask on a first date Edward.” “I’ll pour you some more wine….” “Okay you can come in then….” “Red or white?” “White please…I had a really good time tonight…thank you.” “You’re welcome..I’m glad you had a good time…I enjoyed it as well…what? Why…why are you looking at me like that?” “Are…uhm…are you…are you in love with me?” “What? Why…why would you…uhm…I..uh-” “oh god-” “No no no don’t…don’t walk away…I just wasn’t…why did you ask me that?” “Just forget it…I’m sorry…it’s the wine…I’m not making sense…I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” “yes.” “Yes?…yes what?” “I’m in love with you.” “No you’re not.” “Yes…yes I am.” “No you’re not…you would’ve told me…you…you would’ve said something.” “I’m…saying something now…doesn’t that count?” “I…I don’t know…what to say.” “That’s okay.” “I can’t…I can’t do this Eddie I can’t…I-” “hey it’s okay…please don’t cry….” “I think.. I just uhm…I need some space…I’m gonna go-” “no no I’ll go..you stay here I’ll uhm go stay at Wayne’s…just…I’m sorry okay? I didn’t…I didn’t want to tell you like this….please know that I don’t expect anything in return I just…it’s out there now so…we have to deal with it.” “I can’t deal with it right now…” “and that’s fine…I’ll uh go to Wayne’s and…maybe I’ll come by tomorrow and…we can talk about it?” “I’ll call you.” “Okay…yeah that works too…uhm…goodnight?” “Goodnight…tell…tell Wayne I said…hello.” “Yeah I’ll uhm..I’ll do that.”
#trouble next door convos#trouble next door series#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson angst#eddie munson slow burn#eddie munson friends to lovers#eddie munson au#eddie munson x best friend reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things au#stranger things social media au#Eddie munson social media au#my little dungeon master baby
274 notes
·
View notes
Text
PROMPTS FROM RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE
* assorted (and slightly adapted to suit this meme format) dialogue from the book by casey mcquiston, adjust as necessary
on purpose. i love him on purpose.
i've always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden.
i'm going to have you offed. you'll never see it coming.
take anything you want and know you deserve to have it.
get in there.
you're literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state.
before you, i was all right letting everything happen to me.
i can't believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are.
sorry, are we not? did i skip ahead again?
you've been warned.
he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.
my life is a cosmic joke and you're not a real person.
hey, have i told you lately that you're brave?
i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose.
we're gonna make it work. you and me and history, remember?
if you finish that sentence, i'm gonna spend tonight in jail.
but the truth is, also, simply this: love is indomitable.
i actively wish for the sweet release of death.
yes, good, carry on.
i won't hear a word against it.
we're gonna do it together.
i said you look great, baby!
i meet you in every dream, and when i wake i cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness.
i'm so in love i could die.
you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse.
i wonder if it's too late to swan dive off the roof.
i'm learning all your hidden depths today, sweetheart.
you must invent an entirely new system.
a curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back on.
he's proof that it doesn't matter where you come from or who your family is.
i've bloody well had it!
we can unpack the ironic symbolism later.
that's beyond our sense of decorum!
i'm not afraid of anything i feel. i'm afraid of saying it. i'm only afraid of what happens when i do.
aw, you do care.
if there's any legacy for me on this earth, i want it to be true.
straight people probably don't spend this much time convincing themselves that they're straight.
the moment you first called me a prick, my fate was sealed.
you are the absolute worst idea i've ever had.
should i tell you that when we're apart, your body comes back to me in dreams?
can you perhaps stop putting your sodding life in danger now?
what are we even defending here?
history will remember us.
when i sleep, i see you.
i hate this so much.
every person who bears a legacy makes the choice of a partner with whom they will share it with.
we're just gonna fucking fight.
he is my choice.
i can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault.
i've been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mom.
when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i've just been with you.
i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache.
your spine's a ridge i'd die climbing.
for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all.
the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing you have ever written me.
i promise you, one day we'll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.
give yourself away sometimes, sweetheart. there's so much of you.
i want to set myself on fire, but i can't afford for anyone to see me burn.
you see, for me, memories are difficult.
never tell me the odds.
i wish there weren't a wall.
jesus christ, it's like they can see into your soul.
you're it, okay? i'm never gonna love anybody in the world like i love you.
i'm finished. i don't care.
god, i want to fight everyone who's ever hurt you.
the whole world watched, and history remembered.
are you quite finished?
just so we're clear. i'm about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family.
you insane, hopeless romantic little shit.
#rp meme#rp memes#rp prompt#rp starters#roleplay memes#roleplay prompt#ask meme#ask memes#roleplay meme#roleplay inbox prompts#writing prompt#askbox meme#rp asks#inbox prompts#inbox prompt#rp inbox meme#inbox meme#sentence starter#sentence starters#sentence starter prompt#mcflymemes#red white and royal blue#rwarb#book prompts
268 notes
·
View notes
Note
So glad to see you’re back! Hope your break was restful because it was certainly well deserved! Hope you continue to take time for yourself and prioritize yourself ❤️
I know Ameliot owns centaurs now but I had an idea I have to share lol.
One of the key parts of centaur mythology is that they kidnap human women to be wives. So centaur dream has never liked this process—it activates his social anxiety for one—but it’s what centaurs do.
And his family is on his case and this breeding season is going particularly rough on him. He really really needs a mate…
So when the herd ambushes a human town, dream, due to real need and lots of peer pressure, knows he can’t come back empty handed. Desire would never let him hear the end of it.
Problem is he hasn’t ever done this before so he isn’t entirely sure how to like…spot a human and sweep them up into his back.
So he just goes for it almost without looking, hooking his arms around the nearest nice smelling person and launching them over his shoulder and taking off, his grip firm around their waist.
It isn’t until they’re back and the herd is now entering stage two (seduction and courting the women) that dream takes a good look at his human and realizes…he grabbed a very confused man.
Hob was minding his own business when the centaurs came. Honestly people in town know when the centaurs are coming and so the only women around are very down for the process and are waiting around eagerly. The others who aren’t into it are already inside. Hob didn’t know about the tradition, being a visitor and no one bothered to warn him—he’s a man. So when the chaos starts, he was Not Prepared for a beautiful centaur to thunder up and grab him! The centaur is clearly also confused so it was clearly a mistake on his part but he still stiffly demands that hob will be his wife for the season…
Dream is going to die of embarrassment when desire finds out he grabbed a man on accident. But now he’s got to pretend this was all on purpose.
It isn’t all bad. The man is…very handsome and he smells perfect to dream. And he can’t let him go now, Dream really needs the help during the mating season, even if it won’t result in a pregnancy.
Dream will just have to seduce hob into wanting to stay.
(Stubborn as hob is, it might not be too hard. It just so happens that hob is a size queen)
Omg socially anxious idiot centaur Dream!!!! I love him so much already. I'm obsessed with the idea of Dream looking down at his "bride", and Hob looks back up at him... with his beard... and his flat (ish) chest... and his, ya know, penis. And Dream just wants to sink into the floor in his embarrassment.
But Hob? He's gonna make the best of the situation. He's gonna put on the pretty bridal gown with the rest of the chosen brides (no it doesn't fit him very well but he's still hot af). And he's gonna take Dream’s hand in the glade where the centaurs are dancing. He's not the greatest dancer but he is having a great time! Dream stumbles over his hooves as he realises that the smiling handsome man might actually be the most beautiful person he's ever seen.
The good thing about mating season, is that things like anxiety and awkwardness all fall by the wayside. All Dream feels is admiration for his new mate, and a strong desire to spend the season in the throes of delirious passion. And he discovers that despite being a man, Hob is really the perfect companion. He's horny. Really horny. Maybe even hornier than Dream, which is really saying something.
And it totally doesn't matter that they can't have kids, because they can still very much fantasise and talk dirty about it - which they do. A lot. Dream isn't even remotely shy when he talks about filling Hob up with many strong and magnificent foals. Hob is kind of obsessed with the way Dream will approach him from behind and mount him with absolutely no warning (thank goodness Hob keeps himself well oiled!) and start whispering filth in his ear about what a good little wife Hob is, how he was absolutely made for it and even the gods won't be able to take him from Dream.
Hob may be a traveller at heart but he'll find it hard to leave when the mating season ends. How will he ever satisfy himself without Dream’s massive cock? Maybe he'll stay another year. It may be impossible for them to have a child biologically, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't keep trying!
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay this is gonna be a bit of a long rant (with some SA and CSA mentions so pls don’t read if that will be too much for you rn) but I’ve been thinking a lot about the “male loneliness epidemic” lately and I have some Thoughts ™
we live in very isolating, depressing and scary times. we live in a hyper-individualistic capitalist hellscape that seems to punish people who need community support. and I truly believe that we as humans should try to help each other out in the ways that we are able to.
but I lose 100% of my empathy for lonely depressed men when they start using their own personal issues as an excuse to peddle ideologies that advocate for rape, pedophilia, child marriage, sexual slavery, and even murder of women and girls. I don’t fucking care how sad you are, if you advocate for other humans beings to be subjected to the cruelest treatment possible then you either need to get serious help or die (and not take anyone with you when you do).
you do not have a fucking paramount on suffering. you are not the only ones who experience loneliness. I know you think women get to just pick and choose whichever romantic partner/friends we want, but that is false, and also being seen as nothing but a sex object by men is so incredibly isolating too. that’s not real love and connection, that’s only being valued for what we can provide for men. so many people feel so alone and it genuinely is a big problem.
I was raised in an extremely misogynistic cult that preaches that grown men are not responsible for anything they do to little girls bc “they’re wired that way.” I had very bad things happen to me before I was even old enough to realize what it meant. and you know what the excuse always is? “well it happened to him when he was younger too so he can’t help that he does it to you.” I learned very early that male suffering is viewed as more important than the suffering they inflict on innocent people. and despite going through this, despite seeing nearly every woman in my life go through something similar, despite all of this, I still would never ever sympathize with any ideology that preaches rape, slavery, sex trafficking, pedophilia, white supremacy, etc. and that doesn’t make me some super hero, it makes me a mildly normal person.
so no, nobody “pushed” you into your evil ideologies, nobody made you do that. if true suffering at the hands of the opposite sex is really the root cause of inceldom then almost every single woman I know would be the most insane incel you’d ever meet in your entire life. but they’re not, even though many of them are lonely and long for true companionship, none of them feel so angry and entitled to it that they want to murder and rape men or little boys. not a single one. the root cause of inceldom is, and always has been, male entitlement. men who were raised to believe the world and every woman in it exists to serve them in some way, but then grew up and realized that actually nobody is owed sex and you don’t get to force women to marry you and have kids, because we are human beings who deserve to be happy too. and this makes them so mad that they start thinking it’s okay to do whatever they want to whoever they want, because after all, nobody on planet earth could ever suffer as much as incels do when a woman tells them no.
I’m fucking sick of it. stop saying “they pushed me to this” and start taking even an ounce of accountability for your deranged, entitled mindset.
#radblr#radical feminism#radical feminists please touch#radical feminist community#I cooked here tbh#male entitlement#male violence#tw csa mention
299 notes
·
View notes
Text
WOOF. I'VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE. THIS IS MY FAVORITE VASHWOOD MOMENT. Analysis below!
first, a moment of silence for Rai-Dei:
Now let's get to the real shit: Wolfwood and Vash's massive argument, where their clashing ideologies explode and they're misunderstanding each other and talking past each other until they're not. It's Vash's turn to read Wolfwood to filth (and honestly? good for him).
the girls are fightingggggg!!!! These panels are so powerful, and Wolfwood is so terrifying here. You can practically feel Vash's anger radiating off the pages. (also hehe vashu angy)
God. There's sooo much happening here. Fellas. Wolfwood is literally like, kill me so I can die knowing you can kill. My life means nothing to me, and you mean everything. I care about your self-preservation skills more than my life. I also think there's an aspect of Wolfwood knowing that he's also in Vash's way as a Gun Ho Gun, and he'd be better off dead, for Vash's sake.
"I'll trade my life for it." screaming crying throwing up wailing screaming etc etc etc!!!! IF YOU KNOW YOU KNOW AND I CAN'T SAY MORE ABOUT THAT NOW.
The dialogue gets difficult to understand here so I color-coded it - blue for WW, red for Vash. The beginning of these boys' argument (earlier panels) starts with them talking past each other (WW has no idea about Rem at this stage, I think, so he doesn't know why Vash is so adamant about pacifism - he thinks it's cowardice), but now that Wolfwood's life in thrown into danger with Vash's gun... well, Vash reads him to filth (deserved, because that's a cruel trick, Wolfwood). Vash is like, hey Wolfwood, I think you're the coward here - because you can't trust anyone. You don't have any hope.
Vash firmly believes that having hope and trusting and loving people is the bravest thing you can do, and anyone who doesn't is terrified.
And you know what? He's not wrong. Wolfwood is terrified of himself and of the world. Wolfwood is acting out of fear here. He's terrified to see what might happen if Vash doesn't learn to kill. He's terrified to see Vash die, so much so that he'd lay his life down to prevent it.
And Vash is like, you are in so so so much pain. I am so so sorry. You're not a monster. You're just a man playing a role and I see it eating you up inside. This is not the way out.
Gay sex is literally less gay than whatever the fuck is going on between these two here.
#trigunbookclub#trimax#vashwood#this is the first vashwood scene that made me fucking feral for them#changed my brain chemistry
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
a sweet melody
pairing: siren!haechan x human!reader (she/her)
summary: Insanity isn’t what she expected to receive when she joined her father and his crew on an expedition, full of men who think she isn’t capable of anything. But it’s all that she got after seeing nothing but endless water every single day. Maybe that’s why her mind started imagining a strange boy who finally shows her the appreciation she deserves. Maybe that’s why she ignores the way she can’t escape the trance he puts her in whenever he sings a melody for her. Or maybe everything is real, and the boy isn’t who he pretending to be.
words: 12.5k
story colour: green
some warnings:
it’s angst, the word “killing” gets mentioned a few times but nothing happens, heavy manipulation
masterlist of ‘nct dream as super natural creatures’
August 2nd, 1878
Day 25 on sea
I don’t remember the feeling of solid ground under my feet. Grass under my toes, touching stone walls or sleeping in a soft bed that isn’t rocking from the waves crashing against the ship.
I don’t remember the taste of air that isn’t filled with salt. The taste of anything other than fish.
I don’t remember not being nauseous every day, not fighting against boredom, not having to talk to myself in order to stay sane. Having to remind myself that I am me and this expedition isn’t pointless and could possibly make us rich until the day we die.
Father told me to write down my thoughts, he senses that I’m slowly losing my mind. But how can’t I? All I see, day and night, are endless expanses of water. No land in sight. We are miles and miles away from civilization. Alone with the sea and what lays beneath it. That thought can be frightening sometimes.
My brother called me a wimp, told me I should have just stayed at home and let the men handle it. I think he is the one who is a wimp. He’s scared of the power women can hold in a world that is overpowered by men. He doesn’t want me here, thinks I belong only at home like the other women in our city. But I don’t believe that even for one second. I have so much more potential than cooking and taking care of children. I’m an explorer, an adventurer, a researcher. I belong exactly here with my brother, my father and his crew.
I am so much more than all of them point me out to be and I know I can prove exactly that to them. I can prove that women can do all things men have been doing for years, maybe even better. I will prove it, even if it makes me go insane.
August 7th, 1878
Day 30 on sea
I miss my mother. I miss her comforting words, her warm arms and the smell of her perfume. Father misses her too. We talked last night while watching the waves under the moonlit sky. He told me he thinks she is watching over us, protecting us from unknown dangers. He told me that he thinks she is proud of us, especially me, for having the courage to explore the sea. I think he is right. Mother would have loved for us to do the things she always dreamt of doing. Exploring. She always wanted to know what lays beyond the sea, know the secrets behind it and write it all down.
Mother was the creative one in our family. She wrote poems, drew beautiful paintings and crafted useful things out of our waste. There was nothing she couldn’t do, no challenge she couldn’t face. I admired her for that, looked up to her and wanted to be like her. Father says that sometimes he sees a bit of her in me, a bit of her creativity leaking out of my aura, but most of the time I am like him. A big pighead who is way too nosy for their own good. But he also said that this trait will help me on our journey.
“We need people like you.”, he spoke as he looked into the sparkling reflection of the stars on the water. “People who are brave and people who are inquisitive. People who don’t stop when it gets too much and get driven by the passion of wanting to know what lays beneath the unknown. That’s why I want you here.”
“But why did you bring my brother as well? He is nothing like that.” My comment made him let out a quiet laugh, a sound I haven’t heard from him in a while.
“Because he can fight. We need people like that as well.”
Our talk was over after that. He went to sleep, and I stayed up, watching the stars in the dark night sky and thinking about his words. Does he really want me here or is he just being nice to me because I’m his daughter? The others on the ship are not shy to express their dislike for me. I’m not taking it to heart since they care more about my gender than my capabilities. But I care about my father’s opinion. I care what he thinks about me being on this ship with him and if he thinks that I should have stayed at home like everyone else is telling me.
I hope he didn’t lie to me. I hope that his words were sincere, and he actually wants me to be here. Because I think it would shatter me if he didn’t.
I figured I should talk more about my current mental state. Every day I try not to show how much it affects me that even though there are so many people on this ship, I’m still alone. No one wants to talk to me, no one cares about my opinion, and no one wants me here. I spend most of the day watching the ocean, listening to the waves and the birds stopping by. When I see something, an animal or even just seaweed, I write it down and draw a picture of it. It helps me a bit, I think, but I’m not quite sure.
Yesterday a boy, his name is Jisung, let me help him prepare a fish. It was the first time someone had spoken to me without throwing an insult at my head. I haven’t seen him much around the ship since he spends most of the time in the kitchen with his father. But he seemed nice enough, even though as soon as another crew member approached us, Jisung ran away from me, not wanting to be seen with the “intruder”. I wasn’t offended by it, at least I got to eat a nice fish for dinner.
But I’m wandering again. My mental state. I do think I’m getting a bit… well, crazy. But who isn’t? Everyone on this ship is going through the withdrawal of feeling solid ground under their toes and seeing anything other than salt water every single day.
I think we all are slowly losing it.
August 15th, 1878
Day 38 on sea
The air was nice today. It smelled fresher than before, kind of like we entered a new world overnight.
It just felt so clean.
Maybe that’s exactly what I needed, some fresh and clear air, something that removed the mess inside of me as well. Father said that fresh air always helps with an occupied mind. I guess his thesis has been proven right.
I should listen to him more.
He is old and keeps to himself most of the time, but when he actually does talk, it has an impact. Just yesterday two of the men on the boat accidently- in a drunken manor- knocked over two wooden boxes full of fish we haunted, leaving us with not much left. Father was furious, I could tell by the look on his face, but he kept his calm image. He went up to the two men and instead of screaming, he just stared at them for a few minutes. I think his eyes were what intimated them the most.
“You realize what you just did?”, he asked them, and I never heard his voice being so cold. They just nodded their heads, eyes widened like they were deer’s getting hunted by a wolf. “You realize what that means for the two of you?” Hesitation lingered in their demeanor. Clearly, they didn’t know what consequences followed their stupid mistake.
“Since you prevented us from having a week stock of fish, I’m going to do the same to you. That means limited access to food, no alcohol anymore and you are going to clean the boat from front to back. I want to see it spotless. Are we clear?” Again, their heads nodded faster than the wind blowing my hair away. They hurried off after being dismissed, leaving me standing there as father let out a long sigh.
It must be hard, having to be in charge of a bunch of grown men who act like children. And it must be hard seeing your own children having to face some of their own hardships as well. I’m not saying my brother is having a hard time on this ship, I’m saying in general. Someone filled with that much piled up anger, like my brother, must have some troubles they can’t communicate themselves.
It’s not like I have never tried. Talking to him, I mean. I did, plenty of times. But he never listens. And he never talks. I think it is the masculinity they force upon boys these days. It starts in school when they are just little fellows and continues all the way into adult hood. It teaches them not to cry, to hide their emotions and be strong.
I think that is stupid. I think that as human beings we were created to show our emotions. It’s our darn right to let ourselves feel everything freely without having to hide it.
But my brother is taking it seriously, says that the people in school would make fun of him if he’s showing weakness. Weakness. That is stupid. I think that hiding your emotions and building up this wrong image in which you hide behind a made-up strength, is what makes you weak.
I told him that and he just said: “And that’s why you’re a woman. You wouldn’t survive a minute being a man.”
And you wouldn’t survive a minute being a woman either. But I didn’t say that. I didn’t want to make him more upset, and I especially didn’t want to start a discussion about men and women with him. It is pointless, because no matter what I say, he will never see us as equals.
I wish I were closer to my brother. I wish he wouldn’t have to think about all this stupid stuff. And I wish I could live in a world where I could freely express myself without having to justify my every move.
I wish, I wish, I wish.
August 19th, 1878
Day 42 on sea
We saw dolphins today. They were swimming right beside our ship, jumping high up into the air and whistling at us. It was a magical moment, watching them happily swim, eager to interact with us. I even got to draw a picture of them. And for a moment I forgot that my mind is constantly spinning in a spiral. I just sat there, enjoying the short moment of peace, before it got destroyed.
Some of the men on the ship, clearly drunk, threw bottles at the dolphins, slurring insulting words at them. The dolphins swam away shortly after, but the bottles stayed where they threw them, in the ocean. I was so mad that I went up to one of the men, yelling some pretty mean words as well.
“Are you out of your mind, you drunk filthy piece of shit? Not only did you hurt poor helpless animals that were clearly eager to interact with us, but you also polluted the ocean with your stupid bottles of alcohol. Are you really that messed up in your head to think this was a good idea? I don’t even get why you are on this god forsaken ship. You are clearly not good for anything other than drinking your days away and only caring about yourselves. And you call yourself a man. You are nothing but a pathetic little boy, wanting everyone’s attention. You disgust me, you pig.”
I can’t remember much afterwards, only the stinging feeling against my cheek, a foot against my rip cage and someone yelling to stop. I woke up not long ago. The ship is quiet, so I assume it’s already in the middle of the night and everyone is sleeping, but I’m too scared to look. My body hurts, every time I move only a slight bit, a crushing pain curses through my bones.
When I close my eyes, everything is spinning, so I don’t close my eyes anymore.
I don’t regret what I said to that man. I don’t regret standing up to myself. I had to endure a worse treatment for a longer time and could handle it. It is not my fault that he couldn’t handle a bit of critique. All I hope is that this pain will go away soon. The pain inside and outside.
I’ve been thinking, maybe a bit too much. What if I change my way of thinking? What if instead of letting the ocean hurt me, I will let it heal me? What if instead of letting the loneliness consume me, I will let it lead me? Maybe all I have to do to get better is to change the way I approach this expedition.
And now that I have written it down, I will have to do it. My mother always said words only count when you write them on a piece of paper. In that way it is like a contract, unbreakable. It is like an oath you swear only to yourself, and those should be the most precious ones. She said you should always keep the promises you give to yourself, because after all, at the very end you will always have yourself to count on. Mother was a wise lady. A wise and confident woman, that I always looked up to. She was never afraid to speak her mind and stand up for her beliefs, I admired that side of her so much. And I know my dad also admired that.
Sometimes I forget that he lost his wife, I forget that he is still grieving. Because it looks so easy for him. It doesn’t look like he is compulsively taken of on a ship to “explore the unknown” just to get away from home and the recuring memories of the woman he loved so dearly. It looks like he created a team of the best- that’s arguable- men out there and took of to explore. He looks like a hero, not a broken man.
He hides everything so well. I wish he would have taught me how to do that.
August 20th, 1878
Day 43 on sea
Dad told me not to move too much. He thinks my rips are badly bruised and I need a few days, maybe even a few weeks to heal. We don’t have a qualified doctor on this ship, so I am just putting ice on my ribs and hope they will magically heal.
My brother even came to my room to ask me about my well-being. That was the last thing I expected to be quite honest with you. My brother and I have never had the best relationship. He was never a reliable soul, always easily influenced by others. He is a follower not a leader and that shows in the way he behaves towards others, especially towards me.
“Are you fine?”, he asked me, voice unusually soft. I could see it in his eyes, the pity that lies in them. It looked like he actually cares.
“Forgetting the circumstances, yes, I am fine.” He let out a long and deep breath, a hand stroking back a piece of hair that fell into his eyes. I should have asked him if I should cut his hair for him.
“Okay.”, he just answered, nodding his head before standing up again. “If you need anything, just call for me.” Without looking at me again, he left the room. All I could do after that was smile. It was the first encounter since we were kids that didn’t end up with me wishing I would never have to talk to him again. He may not know how to express what he is really feeling and is scared of voicing his own thoughts, but this small conversation showed me that he may not be all too bad.
August 25th, 1878
Day 48 on sea
I am going crazy. I sit on my bed every single day. I draw, I write, and I stare at the wall.
I can feel my thoughts circle around my brain, nothing makes sense. No one visited me in the past two days, and it makes the urge to get up even worse. I didn’t really have someone to talk to from the beginning, but at least I got to be around some living beings. I didn’t have to bear my own thoughts for such a long time. Now I’m not only alone, but I’m also lonely as well.
I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt about the ship sinking. It was absurd because the men drunk too much and their bellies got so bloated, it made the ship sink. But that wasn’t the frightening part. As I tried to swim for safety, my arms already hurting, I started hearing voices. Not just two, must have been a hundred of them. All of them whispering to me, but I couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell me. I kept swimming and swimming, far behind I saw hills. The voices didn’t stop. It felt like they were entering me, taking over every part of my body. My head felt like it was about to explode into a million pieces. They got louder and louder until I couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped swimming, letting myself sink. The water engulfed my whole body, entering my mouth and filling my lungs. The voices got quieter and quieter until there was only one left, loud and clear, telling me to “wake up”.
That’s when I opened my eyes, sweat dripping from my forehead and my breath uncontrollably fast. I never had a dream like that. I never woke up so disorientated. I wanted to tell someone about this dream, have someone explain to me what the meaning behind it is. I wanted to know if I’m really losing my mind.
August 27th, 1878
Day 50 on sea
I am losing my mind.
This can’t be real. I am writing this down to make sure I am wide awake and not dreaming.
I woke up from a noise. At first, I thought I was imagining it, because lately I’ve been imagining a lot of things. I wanted to go back to sleep, being exhausted from, well, doing absolutely nothing all day long, but then I heard it again.
It wasn’t just a noise. It was a melody, a very beautiful one. It sounded like the gateway to heaven, like it was sung by angels. And it made me feel drowsy.
I knew I needed to rest more, but something about this melody pulled me in. It made me forget the throbbing pain in my body and the events that happened days before. All it made me want to do was reach it, engrave it into my skin. It made me want to never hear anything else.
I was in a trance, no thoughts inside my head anymore.
So, I got up, walked out onto the deck of the ship to find out where this melody comes from. But when I reached the deck, I didn’t expect to see a boy sitting on the railing.
But it wasn’t an ordinary boy. Oh, no. Not like the ones I’ve seen in my town growing up. I can’t describe him in any other way than captivating. His jet-black hair softly swayed in the night wind, covering his eyes every few seconds. His cheeks adopted a soft rosy color from the coldness, contrasting the tan of his skin. And his eyes were almost as dark as the night sky.
I don’t know why I stared at him for such a long time, and I don’t know why he let me.
“You’re here.” Those were his first words. The first time I heard his voice. A voice that made time stop for a moment. I couldn’t hear the waves crashing against each other anymore, or the cracking of the old wood the ship was built with. I couldn’t even hear my heartbeat pumping against my chest. All I could hear was him. “I was waiting for you.”
“Who are you?” That was not what I wanted to ask him at that moment, but the sane part of my brain must have sensed that something wasn’t right. Something about the way my body reacted to this strange man was dubious.
“Haechan.”, he spoke with a soft voice, turning his body so that he fully faced me. A smirk was placed on his lips, only intensifying his tantalizing physique. “And you are?”
“Y/n.” My name came out in a mere whisper, fearing that my voice might have broken if I spoke any louder. I couldn’t stop staring at him, still having been sure that my mind was playing a trick on me or, well, still is.
For days no one has checked in on me, no one has talked to me more than five words. I’ve been on this ship for way too long seeing nothing but the endless nothingness of the sea. My mind has been plagued with recuring thoughts, never once having a quiet moment. Maybe this is the final sign. Maybe this is it. I am insane. So insane that I’m imagining a boy sitting on the rail of the ship just so that I have someone to talk to.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” Reaching one hand out, the boy signaled me to come closer to him. Every part of my body longed to take his hand and sit on the rail with him, but doubts started floating my brain.
“What are you doing here? How did you get on this ship?” Haechan, as I learned his name, just chuckled, a low sound that was so different from his honey voice. He looked amused at my asking, almost like he was making fun of me.
“Why did you come out here, Y/n?” I remember frowning at him, clearly feeling upset that he chose to ignore my question and ask one of his own. I felt upset that this boy, which I probably made up in my mind, didn’t show any respect for me at all. He, just like the others, ignores what I have to say, and I didn’t want to get treated that way, not after what happened last time.
So, instead of answering him, I turned around, heading back to my bed. But before I could even take a step, the melody I heard earlier started again. All the thoughts that I had in my mind at that moment flew away and I was, yet again, caught in a trance. It was like I couldn’t escape, even if I wanted to.
“It’s you.”, I whispered, but he still heard me. I knew that because the melody got louder, clearer. I closed my eyes, letting his voice enter every part of my body. I let it fill me up and shut me down at the same time. I let it rearrange my mind and mend my wounds, but I also let it cut me open and bleed me dry. I gave myself into the sweet penetration of his honey laced voice and wanted nothing more than to make all his wishes and desires come true. I would have given him the world if it was possible. My whole body felt like it was floating on top of a cloud, high up in the sky and there was no way of ever coming down again. I was trapped.
“Come closer.”, he murmured, voice deeper and almost impending.
“No.”, I quivered, suddenly scared of ever opening my eyes again.
“Please, Y/n.”, he pleaded, and I could nearly hear the desperation in his voice. “Just please look at me.” And so, I did. He was not sitting on the rail anymore, he was standing right in front of me. A small smile on his lips and one hand stretched out to me. “Come closer please. I don’t want anything else from you.”
And as I was about to take the step towards him, give in to his demand and the growing need inside of me to grant all his wishes, I heard a voice behind me, calling out my name and breaking the trance I was in.
“Y/n?”
Turning around, I saw my brother standing further away from me, dressed in his nightly gown. “What are you doing out of your bed? You should rest, your body isn’t fully healed yet.”
“I was just talking to…” But when I looked for Haechan again, no one was standing there anymore. It was like I was alone all along. “I don’t know what I was doing.”
Suddenly I felt all the pain rush back into my body, my bones burning with fire, and I let out a loud groan as I fell to my knees.
“Y/n.” My brother rushed towards me, helping me up with his arms around me. “For someone who always seems so smart, you really aren’t the brightest.” I couldn’t even laugh at his words, my mind was too focused on the pain all over my body.
“You must have been sleep walking if you can’t remember what you were doing up there.” My brother said as he laid me back down into my bed and reached into a bucket of water to put a wet rag on my forehead. “Sleep now, okay? I will stop by in the morning again and check on you.” All I could do was nod my head at him, exhaustion consuming my body. He looked at me one last time before he left my room again.
And now I’m sitting here, writing in my foolish dairy and reminiscing about the strange boy I met. I must have imagined him. How could anyone come up onto the ship? I didn’t see another boat, nor did any other member of the crew. And the possibility of someone appearing out of the blue is also not likely.
The only possibility that is left is that I am losing my mind. That I imagined all of it out of pure loneliness and frustration. This expedition should have been educational for me. It should have proven to all the men that I, as a woman, can do what they can do. That I can be an explorer, a brave one even, and that I have the ability to find something new. That is why we started this journey, because we wanted to discover unknown things.
But all I am doing now is proving everyone exactly what they think of me, that I am small and weak. That I am not an explorer and that I should have just stayed at home. That I am not brave and definitely not smart. I proved to them that I am fragile and well, mental.
But no one has to know about it. No one has to know what happens in my head or the things I imagine. No one has to know I am practically insane and desperate. I could just simply fake it. Isn’t that what everyone does? Faking confidence.
Maybe if I fake it long enough and convince everyone that what they are saying and thinking about me is wrong, I might convince myself as well. Maybe I can convince my brain I’m fine while pretending to be.
So, from now on, everything’s okay. I am not insane, and I certainly am not imagining weird things.
I am okay.
Everything is okay.
August 29th, 1987
Day 52 on sea
Everything is not okay.
Yesterday the boy didn’t show up again. I wasn’t exactly looking for him, since my father spent most of the night in my room making sure I wouldn’t ‘sleep-walk’ again, but I can’t lie and say I wasn’t disappointed not to hear his beautiful melody again.
I asked my dad if there is a word for the feeling of craving for someone, for feeling like the person took a part of you with them when they left and you long to be reunited with them. When all your thoughts are consumed with them, and your body is itching to be in the mere presence of that person. But also fearing the actual return of that person and the power they hold over you and your emotions. He told me it is called “withdrawal”.
“It is mostly referred to drugs such as alcohol.”, he explained to me as he tried to brush out the knots in my hair. “But I think it can be applied to humans as well. You know, sometimes we long for people we can’t have or people that aren’t good for us. We see the signs, but we ignore them. We give in to the sweet yearning and get hurt in the process. But if we don’t give in and the yearning grows stronger, we crave it even more. We think about the person every day, imagine their scent, their eyes, their voice. We imagine them being in a room with us, talking and laughing with us. We do the things that are most painful to us just to have what we long for, even if we know it’s not good for us. And it hurts, physically and emotionally.”
I turned around to look at him, inspect his face and read what he was feeling when he said those things. “It sounds like you have experience with that feeling.” My father just shrugged and at that moment he looked older. He looked like an old man who has been through too much in his life. A man who deserves a break.
“I’ve been around much longer than you, dear. There were mistakes made and hearts torn, but it all worked out at the end.”
“How?”, I ask, curious as to how such a sad feeling still turned into something good.
“Because I got you, and your brother. That’s my happy ending.” I wanted to cry. I wanted to storm into his arms and never let him go. But I didn’t do any of those things. I just smiled at him, nodded my head and hoped that was enough for him. Because while his words filled my heart to the brim with love, my body still ached, not from the pain but for the boy I only met once in my life.
That’s why I tried to ignore the melody a few hours ago when it started again. Father went back to his bed a few minutes before, wanting to get some well-deserved sleep, leaving me alone in my room. I, as well, wanted to get some rest, but then I heard it. It was loud and clear, and more beautiful than I had remembered it to be. Almost immediately I felt my whole mind switch, forgetting the conversation I had had with my father. All that was in my head was him, Haechan.
I wanted to see him, no, I needed to see him. I felt lost without him, so empty and incomplete. I felt like my world wasn’t spinning correctly, time was going backwards, and the stars were falling out of the sky. Nothing felt right anymore. Not until I was with him.
I reached my door, but before I could open it something woke me up. Not from a dream, but from a trance. A smell, a very familiar one. It took up all my senses and brought me back to reality.
I realized what I was about to do and quickly sat back down on my bed, not daring to even set a foot on the floor anymore. It was frightening, what I felt just then. The longing I felt, just from one simple melody. I don’t know this boy, why would I feel so strongly about him? Why does he have so much power over my emotions?
His melody got louder. For a moment my head felt like it was exploding. He sounded sad, sorrowful. It broke my heart into pieces hearing him so vulnerable, longing for me the same way I was longing for him. But I didn’t give in. A part of me, I don’t know which one, knew it was wrong to see him again. So, I stayed on my bed, legs tightly pressed against my chest and my hands on my ears, trying to cover his despairing voice.
10 minutes ago, it stopped. It just went away, like it was never there in the first place. Curiosity almost got the best of me and wanted to check if he really left, but I was too scared, I still am.
I don’t know what he is doing to be, why he is here and why he is targeting me. But I know that whatever he is doing, it can’t be with good intentions. A person that makes another person feel such outrageous things, can’t be here for anything good.
Maybe it shouldn’t matter so much. Because, after all, I made him up. He isn’t real so whatever he is doing isn’t going to hurt me. I think my mind is reflecting this pain on me to make sense of why it’s slowly decapitating. It’s trying to distract me from the actual damage in my brain.
At least that is the only logical answer to all of this. Because anything other would be, well, crazy and I’m not crazy. I might lose my mind, but I am not crazy.
August 30th, 1878
Day 53 on sea
Maybe I am a bit crazy, and reckless, and irresponsible and plain stupid.
“You left me standing here for a long time yesterday. I missed you, darling.” But I couldn’t help myself but visibly relaxing as I heard his voice again.
It was all I could think about all day long. Him and his melody. I wanted to feel it again. Feel it in my veins, feel it shutting out all the thoughts in my head. I just wanted this bothering craving to go away. I think it got so bad that even Jisung, someone who barely talks to me, noticed it.
“Are you okay? Don’t you like the food?”, he asked as he watched me stare at the food in front of me.
“Oh, sorry. It’s not the food, don’t worry. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” I gave him a little smile, grabbing a fork and shoving some food in my mouth.
“Is there a reason behind it? I hope it wasn’t me.” Jisung looked a bit guilty as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I spent the whole night cooking because I also couldn’t sleep. I hope I wasn’t too loud and kept you awake.”
“Oh, so that was what I smelled yesterday.” Internally, I couldn’t help but to be grateful for the boy sitting in front of me. After all, was he the reason why I didn’t give in to see Haechan. But I couldn’t tell him that. I was already glad someone decided to speak to me, I didn’t want to ruin it by my insanity. “But no, that was not what kept me up. I mean I smelled it, but I just had too much going on inside my mind to rest.”
The boy just nodded his head, shoving a fork full of food in his mouth. “Care to share some of your thoughts?”, he says with his mouth still full of food. He looked like a child in that moment, with his eyes wide and his mouth dirty with crumps.
“Just thinking a lot more about my mother lately.”, I told him, only half lying. Mother has been on my mind a lot lately, but that obviously wasn’t the reason why I couldn’t sleep. “I miss her. I mean I always miss her, but being so far away from home just makes me miss her more. You know, I see her everywhere. In the books I read, the words I write. I see her in the ocean, feel her in the air and smell her in every scent. It’s bizarre.”
“No, it’s not.”, Jisung disagreed, putting his fork down and propping his elbow up on the table to lean his face on his hand. “I miss my mother too. I mean, she isn’t dead, but her and my father are no longer together. She left with my sister, my father kept me, and I haven’t seen her in three years. I miss her too sometimes. But I think I miss the things she did for me more than I miss her. When I was a child, I always had trouble falling asleep so she would always tell me a bedtime story. I think that is why some nights I can’t seem to fall asleep.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that, Jisung. Next time you have trouble sleeping just get me. I can also tell you bedtime stories.”
He nodded yet again, showing me another one of his smiles. “Thank you, Y/n. And you know what? I think you are really brave. I wanted to say that to you earlier, but I never had the guts to actually do. I think that we can all be grateful that someone like you joined this expedition. We really need more smart crewmates on this ship.”
But I don’t think I am that smart anymore. I don’t think I even deserve to be called smart anymore. Because every single thing about the decisions I make is anything other than smart. And as I looked into the deep brown eyes of the boy in front of me, that only got confirmed.
“No answer? No ‘I missed you too’?” His voice had an alluring tone, soothing all the wounds inside me and doing things to my body I am too embarrassed to admit. “What a shame, sweet girl. I was pretty sure I could sense your longing for me yesterday. Maybe I was wrong.”
I didn’t know what to answer. And I honestly am glad I didn’t, positive that my voice would have come out in nothing but a pathetic whisper. Haechan was walking closer to me again, reaching his hand out again to hover over the skin of my arm but never touching me.
“Can you feel that?”, he whispers, eyes never leaving mine. “Can you feel the goosebumps slowly forming on your skin, the shiver down your spin?” He waited for me to answer him, but all I could do was nod. “Words, sweetheart.”
“Yes.” I answered him, voice cracking with that one simple word. “Yes, I can feel that.”
“Good. That is exactly what I want you to feel.” He took a few steps back again, so he was leaning against the railing. “Why did you decide to come here tonight? Couldn’t get enough of me?”
I just shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing myself what the actual reason behind me coming to see him again was. “Why do you keep calling for me?”
“Calling for you? How exactly am I calling for you?” Cocking his head to the side, still wearing a smirk on his lips. But I don’t want to get too detailed about his face, still feeling a bit embarrassed of the things I felt in that moment.
“The melody your singing, it’s for me. You are calling me with your melody.” A chuckle left his lips, melodic like his voice.
“How can you be so sure of that? What if I just like to sing pretty melodies?” His question sounded so innocent and for a moment I was uncertain about my statement, fearing I might have misinterpreted everything. But I knew what I was feeling. I knew that his melody was meant to be for me and no one else. I know it might sound crazy, but the thought of him singing this melody, my melody, for someone else felt unsettling.
“Because if you sung it for someone else, they would stand here instead of me. No one else is responding to your melody, only me, so it must be for me.” For a few seconds there was nothing but silence around us. Haechan wasn’t saying a thing, seeming like he was thinking about his next words. And I didn’t say anything, fearing that if I might, he would disappear again.
“You’re right.”, he finally spoke up. “It is for you.”
“But why? Why do you sing this melody for me?”
“Because I wanted to meet you, Y/n. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I got to have you. I got to be with you. I craved nothing more than to talk to you, to simply be blessed to be in the mere presence of you. I am longing for you, the same way you are longing for me, my love.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying to me. His words filled up my heart, and I started feeling lightheaded.
He was craving for me. He wanted to meet me. Everything that I am feeling towards him, as strange as those emotions are, he is feeling for me as well. His words were the most beautiful, heart wrenching thing I have ever heard in my inter life. I felt lucky to be seen this way, to be wanted this way, never actually having had someone tell me that before.
He really went all this way, just to meet me. Singing this melody, coming up this ship. But isn’t it a bit strange as well? I remembered not seeing another ship anywhere nearby. Where did he come from? How did he see me? Questions started filling my mind again, shaking me awake.
“What did you mean when you said you wanted to meet me from the first time you saw me? When did you see me?” I could see his body tensing up. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a question.
“I can answer your question, but first you have to come with me. Please, Y/n. I will tell you everything, just please come with me. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”
“Haechan.” I looked at his hand, which was reaching for me again, motioning me to take it in mind. “Where do you want to take me? I mean there is no other ship anywhere near.”
“Y/n, just trust me, okay? Come with me and I will make the thoughts in your head disappear. I will make everything heal for you.” His hands hovered over my arms again, almost as if he couldn’t touch me. I wanted him to. I wanted him to touch me so badly. But I could see that something in his eyes had changed. They were darker, more desperate and demanding, and I knew it was my time to leave.
“I can’t.”, I told him, taking a few steps back. “I have to get up early tomorrow.” And with that I left, not once looking back as I walked back into my room.
I don’t know if what I did was right, or if I upset him with my behavior.
All I hope for is that he isn’t mad at me and will forgive me when he comes back. If he comes back.
August 31st, 1878
Day 54 on sea
He did in fact come back.
“Missed me?” There was something more gentle in the way he was talking to me today. Something more reserved.
“What if I did?” That made him smile, not smirk like he normally does. Haechan showed me a bright honest smile. And all I could think about was that he never looked more ethereal than in that moment.
“Then I will be highly pleased, my love. You know why?” I shook my head as a no, waiting for him to continue his sentence. “Because I missed you too?”
“You did?”
“Of course, I did. You were all I could think about all day long, pretty girl.” He stayed a bit further away from me too today and I wondered why. I asked myself if he didn’t want to be close to me again or if he felt rejected after what happened yesterday. “I couldn’t stop thinking about your sweet smile, your beautiful eyes and your lovely voice. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”
“Why don’t you touch me?”, I said out of the blue, catching not only myself, but him off guard as well. “You never touch me. You only hover your hands above my skin. Why?”
He smiled again, sweet and kind. “Because if I touch you once, I will never be able to stop again.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” He only shook his head, turning around to face the stars instead of me. But I didn’t want him to look away, I wanted him to look at me, because when he does look at me, I can feel again.
“I am sorry about yesterday, you know? I am sorry I was too intrusive, I let myself get caught up in my emotions.” I had to process his words, that being the last thing I thought would come out of his mouth. Never once had a men apologized to me for anything. I am so used to getting treated like nothing and it being normal in a society like the one I grew up with. Never once has anyone cared so much about me to consider my emotions and apologize for a mistake.
“Thank you.”, I just whispered, trying to swallow the tears. “That means a lot to me.” I decided to join him at the rail, watch the stars with him for a little while.
“Do you know that I think you are not real? I think I am imagining you, because for the past weeks I have been slowly losing my mind. Seeing the same things every day, not talking to anyone and having to deal with all those thoughts in my head. I think I started imagining you so I could just stop time for a while.”
“But I am real.”, he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I am real. You are not insane, and you are definitely not imagining me. I can prove that to you. Just take my hand and you will see.”
“Why does that feel like a trap?”, I asked him, watching his face, trying to read his emotions. But it stayed the same. His smile didn’t butch for a second and his eyes still held the same gentleness.
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Y/n. There is no trap. I am just offering you evidence to your lingering questions about your own sanity. I am just trying to be nice to you, but if you don’t appreciate that.”
“No, no I do. I am grateful for your kindness. You just sounded so demanding, and it made me doubtful.”
“I am so sorry, my sweet girl. It was never my intention to make you doubt me. That will never happen again, okay? All I want is the best for you. Nothing more.” I just nodded, eyes facing the wooden floor of the ship. “I am going to tell you the story of why I so desperately wanted to talk to you, since I didn’t yesterday. Maybe that will cheer you up a bit again.”
“I wanted to talk to you because I was mesmerized by you. Because there are not a lot of people out there like you. People so willing to learn and to explore. I never met a woman like you, someone so strong minded and independent. I loved how you never let anyone talk bad to you and I love how despite the negative things the men on this ship say about you, you still stay here. You prove to them every day that you are capable of being on such an expedition and that you are more qualified than they could ever be. And I just knew I had to talk to you, I had to have you in my life.”
And it was like he knew what I needed to hear. Like he knew my deepest darkest thoughts and all the things I was craving to ever be told by someone. It was like he spoke right into my soul and built up this newfound strength. I felt empowered, I felt loved. But yet again, I was also wondering how he could know all those things about me.
“Why do you know all that, Haechan?”
“I told you already, Y/n. I was longing for you.” It didn’t make sense. His answer didn’t make any sense. Was he avoiding my question? Or maybe he understood the question wrong, thinking this was an answer that would satisfy me. But it didn’t.
“That doesn’t answer my question. How can you possibly know about all those? We just met.”
I could hear a sigh leaving his lips, the long and frustrated kind. I am familiar with those, having heard them a thousand times from my father and brother. And I asked myself if I, yet again, upset him with my question. If I should have just kept quiet and appreciated his kind words and moved on from the topic.
“And yet again you don’t appreciate my kindness. All I do is be nice to you, proving to you that I am real and trustworthy, and you still doubt me. Don’t you know how much that hurts me? Do you?” His voice rose visibly, nostrils flaring and eyes growing wider. Haechan wasn’t looking like himself at that moment. He almost looked inhumane.
“I am sorry, Haechan. Please don’t say that. I do trust you. Please, I’m sorry.”, I started begging him, reaching for his hand, which he pulled away. “Please.” Tears filled my eyes and my whole body started hurting again, like it was slowly breaking apart from the inside out.
“You hurt me, Y/n. I don’t think your apology can fix this.”
And this time it was him walking away, disappearing into the darkness, and leaving me standing at the same spot, mourning for him like I had just lost a person to death.
September 1st, 1878
Day 55 on sea
I could see the surprise on his face when he saw me standing there, waiting for him this time, not needing his melody to be called. But the look of surprise quickly faded away and a smirk replaced it instead.
“I see you don’t even need my melody anymore.” It almost sounded cocky the way he said it.
“I wanted to be here first so I could apologize to you.”, I spoke the words with so much sincerity, wanting him to believe me and see that I genuinely mean the apology. “I am really sorry for hurting your feelings yesterday. It was never my intention. All I want to do is make you happy, Haechan, and I am so sorry that I failed to do so.”
He looked at me for a few seconds, brows raised, before he shrugged his shoulders. “What will you do if I don’t accept your apology?”
I didn’t hesitate when I spoke my next words. “I will beg for your forgiveness. I will beg until you accept my apology. I will do anything you want me to.”
“Anything I want you to?”, he asked, and I just nodded my head at him, desperation fulling my actions and probably written all over my face. “I will hold onto that one.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?” Haechan shrugged again, taking a few steps forward into my direction. Looking at him in that moment, I didn’t think he looked hurt. Normally people have this look on their face when their feelings got hurt, quivering lips, wide and sad eyes, body folding in on itself. But Haechans eyes were almost narrowed, and he was towering over me, almost like he was looking down at me. My father once told me people do that to prove their dominance over the other person, but I don’t think that was what Haechan wanted to do in that moment. Or was it?
Maybe Haechan is just like my brother, a person who has to hide their true feelings behind a stone-cold face to demonstrate strength. Or maybe he just didn’t want me to see him hurt by me to make me feel less guilty. Because I was and still am feeling bad for making him feel that way yesterday. I still regret my words and wish I would have just shut my mouth. I should do that more often, shutting my mouth in some situations. It would have saved me from a lot of things.
“I’m still thinking about it. Maybe I will tell you my answer at the end of the night.” That gave me some hope. Even though he didn’t yet accept my apology, he still wanted to spend time with me and that was more than enough for me.
“I saw you talking to that Jisung guy again today.” Haechan was still towering over me, hands in the pockets of his pants and eyes narrowing in on my face. “What is so intriguing about him that you talk so much to him?”
“Did you watch me?”, I asked him, shock lacing my voice. Jisung and I only talked in the kitchen today. I was hungry since I overslept in the morning and didn’t have breakfast. When I walked into the kitchen to grab myself something, Jisung was standing there, preparing the fish for dinner. We spent some time together, me eating my food and him cooking more. There wasn’t a lot of conversation, we just basked in the presence of each other.
“I asked you a question first.”, Haechan voice got lower again. I could only describe it as sinister. There was an undertone in that one small sentence, something that told me I should not say the wrong thing. So, I took a moment to gather my thoughts, fight through the mess in my head and find an answer that will satisfy him.
“He isn’t interesting to me.”, I tell him, keeping my voice clear and loud. “He is just the only person that talks to me when you aren’t here. There is nothing more to it.”
“It didn’t look like that earlier, sweetheart. I thought the two of you looked very cozy in that kitchen, sneaking glances at each other.” He let out a sound similar to a ‘tsk’ and shook his head in a mocking manner. “Am I not enough for you anymore? Do you go around and search for other men when I’m not around? Are you so desperate and needy for attention?”
“No.”, I whispered, feeling even the small last bit of confidence leaving my body. Haechan has a way of making me feel weaker and weaker, draining every last thought out of my head and making my body his. “No, Haechan.”
I felt my legs give him, sinking to my knees. My body felt so heavy but at the same time so light. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, lowering his head so he was looking right into my eyes. “You can’t talk to other men, Y/n. You are mine only, do you understand?” All I could do was nod my head at him, but that didn’t satisfy him. “You belong to me, right, my sweet girl? I need you to say it.”
“I belong to you.”, I mumbled, not having the strength to fully open my mouth.
“That is right. You belong to me, your body belongs to me and even your mind belongs to me. You are all mine, pretty princess.” He took up all my senses. I could only see him, smell him, hear him, feel him everywhere. Like only he excited in this world and no one else.
Haechan leaned forward, his lips brushing the skin of my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, and it sent shivers down my back. “Now come with me, darling. Take my hand and come with me. I will make sure you remember me forever.”
I reached for his hand, fingers brushing against each other, but before I could close them around his, a bright light shined a bit further away from us. Everything happened so fast after that. I heard footsteps, a voice and suddenly I felt empty. Haechan was no longer kneeling in front of me and right as I wanted to look for him, my body gave in, and I fainted onto the cold wooden floor.
I don’t know how I got into my bed, and I don’t know who brought me into my bed. All I know is that the moment I woke up again I craved Haechan even more than I did before and I know that the next time he asks me to come with him, I will do so, without any hesitation.
September 2nd, 1878
Day 56 on sea
Everything changed today. Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I felt. A lie.
I can’t stop crying. My tears are flowing like an endless waterfall. I’m a mess, a disaster. How could I let this all happen? I thought I was smarter than this. I thought I was stronger than this. But I was blinded. I was corrupted, manipulated, used.
I feel dirty, like I haven’t washed in weeks. But I just did. I spent a long time trying to scrub away the dirt I felt, trying to scrub away the shame I felt. I put everyone, especially me, in danger with my reckless behavior, with my blindness, with my incompetence. I am a failure.
I spent the whole day ignoring everyone around me, not even looking at anyone that passed me by. I wanted to desperately prove to Haechan that I only want him and no one else, that everyone on this ship doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is him. I was hoping he was watching me again, being proud of me.
But unfortunately, there was one person I couldn’t avoid even if I tried to.
“You wanted to speak to me, father.”, I said as I entered my father’s office room. I have never been in that room, not once over all these weeks. The room was scattered in books, empty bottles and maps of the sea. I always imagined the room to be neater, at least that was what my father always seemed to be. But my mother told me once that your room reflects the mental state you were in. Maybe my father was also struggling with his sanity.
“Yes.”, he answered me, looking up from his book. “I wanted to see how you are feeling, after your little incident yesterday.”
“I’m feeling fine, father. Must have been me sleep walking again. There is nothing to worry about.”
He just hummed, his face showing the uncertainty he felt because of my words. My father mustered me for a few seconds, waiting for even a little muscle to twitch in my face to show him if I was lying. But I kept a straight face, looking him right into the eyes. “I am thrilled to hear that. And we will find a way to fix your nightly problem.”
Father went back to reading in his book, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, the curious part of me wondered what he was so engrossed in. I always loved the books my father reads, knowing that they are filled with new knowledge. “What are you reading?”
He held up the book, showing me the cover. “Knowledge about the mysteries of the ocean.”, I read out loud, furrowing my eyebrows at the title. What an odd book, I have never heard about that. “What mysteries are listed in the book?”
“Oh, just some fisher men tales. Mermaids, kraken, leviathan, sirens. All those tales which warn everyone on ships about the dangers of the sea.”
“Sirens? I have never heard of them. What are they?” My father turned his book around, showing me the page, he was just reading. On it was a drawn picture of what looked to be a half bird, half fish creature. My stomach started to turn, the longer I looked at it, frightened by its appearance.
“This book says that sirens are mythical creatures, half bird, half fish. Through their angelic singing they lure in fishermen to kill them. It is said that their voice lures them in, but their face is what makes the fishermen stay.”
“Their face?”, I asked, not believing that for a second.
“They put you in a trance with their voice and make you see whoever you most desire. They are insidious, malicious creatures, feared by everyone who ever entered the ocean. They are dangerous, Y/n.” He looked me in the eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t. As if he wanted to tell me more with the last sentence.
“Do you really believe they exist? To me that just sounds like fishermen making up excuses as to why they didn’t bring any fish home.”
My father let out a long sigh, head shaking. He turned the book back to him and stared at the picture for a few more seconds, before closing the book again. “You could be right, Y/n. I mean you have always been the realistic one in this family. But as long as there is no proof that they don’t exist, I will have to believe those tales. It’s better to believe and find out they don’t exist, than to not believe and find out they do exist.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about his words after I left his office. They kept spinning around my head, swirling and clashing against other thoughts. And they were connecting. My thoughts were connecting together, and suddenly there was only one thought left. One person in my mind, and not for the reasons he had been in my mind for the past few days.
But I didn’t want to admit that. Not even to myself. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t true. Those useless tales were nothing but fiction, made up stories to save the fishermen from embarrassment and disappointment. Nothing more and nothing less.
Because I knew Haechan. I knew he wasn’t capable of something like that. He wasn’t a creature designed to prey on innocent people. Or was he?
I couldn’t help but smile as I heard the familiar melody, as I felt it sink deep under my skin and erase everything inside of me. I loved the pain it inflicted on my heart, the way the melody ripped me apart into a million pieces. I loved how for the first few seconds everything stopped being important to me. Breathing, feeling, living. Nothing felt important for a few seconds. Nothing but him.
Haechan leant against the rail of the ship, hands in his trousers and a smirk on his lips. It almost felt like a déjà-vu. I remembered how I felt when I first saw him. Feelings that were once so innocent and unfamiliar are now unconditional and fierce. “My pretty girl.”, he whispered, and I felt the weight on my shoulders lift. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”, I asked, taking a few steps closer to him. I was craving his closeness, his touch. I needed him to touch me, anywhere. I didn’t mind where.
“Ready to come with me.” My head was clouded, brainwashed by his beautiful voice. But wasn’t that exactly what my father told me, what he warned me about. “I can see your doubt in me, sweetheart. What is it that is plaguing your beautiful mind?”
“Do you plan on killing me?” I don’t know why I asked him that question. I don’t know how I got the strength to break out of the haze, even just a little bit.
“Killing you? Why would I kill you?” His eyes darkened and I could see his body language changing. I could see all of him changing. Haechan let out a chuckle before walking into my direction, stopping when he was right behind me. Brushing my hair back, never once touching me, as he leant down to whisper into my ear.
“I really wanted to kill you at first, my sweet girl. I wanted nothing else but to rip you apart.” My body shut down, letting me fall weakly to my knees just like the day before. I couldn’t keep my eyes open for more than five seconds. Haechan kneeled down in front of me, yet again and placed his hand on my cheek. Finally, I could feel him. I could feel the one thing I craved most, his touch. But it didn’t feel how I imagined it to. Instead of lifting me up and making me basked in comfort, it made me flinch. His touch made me want to never see the light of day ever again. “But how could I kill such a beautiful thing? You are my precious girl, aren’t you? So sweet and special.”
I wanted to run, get away from him. I wanted to do anything but to stay with him, but my body didn’t let me. My body stayed down on the ground, heavy and useless. “Does it hurt, love? Does my touch and my words hurt you?” He didn’t need an answer because he knew. He knew how every bone in my body felt like it was on fire as soon as he muttered those words. He knew all I wanted was to make this growing pain stop. “Just come with me. I will make the pain stop.”
When I looked up at him, I saw only a glimpse of him. His skin was pale blue, scales all over it, and his teeth were sharp and long. This wasn’t the boy I met a few nights ago, the boy who made me feel like I was floating on the clouds and the boy who gave me a reason to live. This was a creature, a monster. A siren.
“Go away.”, I croaked out with the last strength I had left in my body.
“Oh no, you poor thing. Don’t be like that.” Not even his voice sounded like the sweet melody I once heard. It didn’t give me sweet pleasure anymore, it only gave me pain. “You love me, or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten all the feelings I inflicted on you? Have you forgotten how good you felt when you were with me? I can make that come back. You just have to come with me.”
“Go to hell.” I didn’t know that this simple sentence could mean the end of my life because the next thing I felt was a sharpness going through my body. And I knew this would be it. This would be the last few seconds before I was gone.
“Y/n!”, I heard someone shout, loud and piercing. I opened my eyes, only to have my vision be blurry. I tried to move, look who that voice belonged to and if I was imagining it again. “Go away and never come back, or I will have you killed and each and everyone of you creatures on this planet.”
I took a hurtful breath and it felt as if my lungs were filled with broken pieces of glass. My eyes tried to stay open, but I didn’t have the strength. “No, Y/n. Stay awake. Please don’t leave me.”
Whiteness surrounded me, filling me up and taking me in. Silence. I heard nothing more than silence. I tried looking around, kicking and fighting as I was trapped in nothing but endless vastness. Far away from me I could see something, or someone waiting for me. I tried to walk towards it, reaching my arms out to grab it, but I never came close.
“It’s not your time yet, Y/n.” And before I could question those words, my eyes opened.
It took me a few seconds to regain my vision, seeing the familiar walls of my room. As I remembered just what had happened, I felt panic filling my body, my breaths coming out faster than normal and my mind spiraling in wild circles.
“It’s okay, Y/n.”, I heard the voice of my father first before I felt his arms around my body, pulling me tightly into him. “Your safe. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”
I looked up at him with wide eyes and my mouth agape. I felt like a little kid again, crying in the arms of my father after having a bad dream. Just that this wasn’t a dream. This is reality.
“It’s okay. We are on our way back home. That creature will never find you again, we made sure of that, okay?” My father held me with so much delicacy, fearing he might break me. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone, or anything hurt you again.”
And I believed him. There in the arms of my father I believed his words. So, I closed my eyes, let the sleep consume me and hoped that this promise would be one he could keep.
September 10th, 1878
Day 64 on sea
I let the salt air take away all the scars of the past weeks as I watched the soft waves flow under the setting sun. This was the first time in eight days that I had the courage to leave my room. I couldn’t face the place where everything happened. The place where I almost lost myself.
I closed my eyes and imagined the soft grass under my toes, the chirping birds in my ear and the blinding sunlight in my eyes. I imagined biting into a sweet apple, feeling the fresh morning air on my skin and smiling at the veracity of the moment.
“Daydreaming again?”, I heard a voice in front of me, making an actual smile appear on my lips. A smile I haven’t let myself show in a long time.
“What brings you out here? Shouldn’t you be in your bed, sleeping like everyone else is?” Jisung just shrugged his shoulders, his hair softly swaying in the wind.
He showed me a sweet smile, sitting down beside me and taking one of my hands in his. “I am not going to ask you how are doing, since everyone else does that every day.” I nodded at him, grateful for not hearing the repeating question out of his mouth as well. “But I am going to ask you if you still feel the withdrawal, you told me about.”
My eyes filled with tears again and I tried my best to swallow them down. “Yes.”, I mumbled, looking down, too ashamed to let him see me this way. To let him see me so weak and pathetic. “Yes, I still feel it, every day. I long for him, and I know it isn’t right. He isn’t who he showed me to be. I know I was blinded by a trance. I was blinded by need. I know what I am feeling isn’t right and that he wasn’t right. But for a few seconds, for a few seconds every day, it felt real. For a few seconds every day I could just be. I could be me. I could forget the pain and my thoughts, and I could breathe.”
Jisung just nodded his head, not letting go of my hand, but he didn’t say a word. I appreciated that. I appreciated the quietness of him. Because as opposed to the others, he didn’t lecture me on my feelings. He didn’t tell me how it is wrong to feel the way I do and how I should have seen all this coming. He didn’t try to tell me how to move past this, or how to continue living my life. Jisung just stayed silent.
“Why are you awake?”, I asked him after a few moments, breaking the silence he gifted me.
“I couldn’t sleep. And the last time I told you about my sleeping problems, you told me you could tell me a story, like my mother did. A bedtime story to make me fall asleep.” I let the tears that still lingered in my eyes roll down my cold cheeks, as I nodded my head. “Will you tell me one?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I will tell you any story you want.”
And so, I did.
I told everyone my story.
Bonus
“What took you so long?”
Haechan swam into the cave, brushing past everyone that was looking at him with expecting eyes. He ignored them all and just kept swimming.
“Answer my question.”, Jeno spoke louder this time, but Haechan just kept swimming. He didn’t care that everyone was waiting for him, waiting for him to fulfill his promise, to fulfill all the promises he had made for the past weeks.
“We had a fight.”, he told Jeno with a shrug of his shoulders, nonchalant about the other one’s questions. Haechan could see the disappointment and anger in the faces of everyone in the cave, and he couldn’t care less. He knew what he was doing was right. He knew it was necessary to go through all these lengths to get what he wanted, what everyone wanted.
“A fight?”, his friend repeated, skeptic lingering in his voice. “This isn’t a game, Haechan. We put our trust and time in your hands. How long until this plan of yours backfires? How long until they notice that their ship hasn’t been moving in days? How long until they discover us and put an end us?”
“Jeno.”, Haechan’s eyes piercing into the older boy, voice clearly stating a warning. “Have you lost all your trust in me? I know what I am doing.”
“Are you?” Everyone was looking at the two, anticipating the outcome of this long-awaited conversation. “You were the one promising us you were going to get us this girl. You were the one convincing us how much you were craving her and how much we should as well. And we have given you time, but all you do is play around. This isn’t a game, Haechan. This will determine our lives. Without her, we will not survive, and you are very well aware of that.”
“This is where you are wrong, my dear friend.” Haechan turned his body, facing all the sirens watching him. “This is a game, and I am the leader of it. This girl we are talking about is different from everyone we have ever had. This one is special. She isn’t easily fooled by my tricks, by my voice. She has a smart mind, that one.” A wide grin appeared on the siren’s lips, making him almost look crazy, and his eyes narrowed on his friend yet again. “This one will bring us everything we have ever dreamt of. And it will work. The game I am playing, the fight we were having today, it will all work in the end.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” The question lingered in the quiet of the cave, the eyes of everyone looking at Haechan, faith and trust all in his hands.
“Because it is all going according to plan.”, he announced, voice thick with pride and confidence. “It is all going according to my plan.”
#lee haechan#lee haechan imagine#lee haechan imagines#lee haechan angst#lee haechan nct 127#lee haechan nct dream#lee haechan nct#nct dream imagines#nct dream x y/n#nct dream x reader#nct dream fanfic#nct imagines#nct 127 imagines#lee haechan x reader#haechan imagines#haechan x reader#haechan x y/n#lee haechan x y/n
150 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
j-seoul
it's good for your seoul.
plethoraworldatlas
Working on it
powerbook145
codename: Colt 45
avatarlane
the city of nostalgia
dnfcliparchive
dreamnotfound moments