I can't believe that I have to do this right now. But I have no other option. I don't feel safe.
I'm a foreign student living in Korea. I've been here for more than six months. I have been living in a goshiwon for almost 4 months. One day ago, the manager of the goshiwon I'm living in, physically assaulted me. I was so uncomfortable and scared. I'm here so far away from my family living alone and this woman assaults me for absolutely no reason? Not just me, she assaulted a few more of my juniors, all from my country, Bangladesh. I didn't expect Korea to be like this tbh. I didn't expect them to be so disgustingly racist to any other race who are not white.
Even when we all called the police, the senior officer laughed it off. Saying she was just telling us to go in our room by pushing us. You think pushing us will leave a red mark on my brown skin?? Sigh I'm so lost but I felt like I had to put it over here. I wanted to warn all the people who romanticize Korea. Guys it's not as it looks like. Korea is disgustingly racist. You'll realize it with every breath that you take outside. You'll realize it with every stare you get.
I came to this country with such high hopes. I can't believe the way she attacked us and then pretended it was nothing. I can't believe even the police didn't care enough. We had to call them twice because they left without informing us when we were recording proof from the CCTV footage. Then we called them again and showed them the proof AGAIN. Because the first time he saw the footage, in his eyes she was just 'gently' pushing us to go to our rooms. In his eyes she didn't 'exactly' harm us because we had no visible injuries. Lol and here I came to Korea knowing their police are very good they never let victims down. And when I saw the way he looked at us like we were joking, I lost all hopes.
To all the people out there who want to visit Korea, especially those who aren't white, believe me Koreans are worse than you think. Thank you Korea, for showing your true colors so early. I hope nobody ever goes through trauma like this. I hope nobody ever has to feel so scared, alone and traumatized with nobody to share their pain with. May you get the best of life.
⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?
includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, predator/prey dynamic, sword to neck trope, reader gets restrained, mentions of injuries, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo, princess!reader, reader is referred to as 'cerena', princess cerena has pink hair and feminine features, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader
⟡ masterlist
ACT 1, SCENE 3: THE VILLAGE
Life at this little village offered you a gentle respite from the fears eating at your soul, putting the memory of Satoru's bloodthirsty desires momentarily out of your mind.
Whilst under Aeva’s care, you learned how to use an old fire stove, sweep the floors with a broom made of brambles, and prepare some of Northern Haleway’s most famous fare—pigeon mince pies.
In return, she offered you the room in her attic, a quaint, cozy space that did not perturb you with its lack of size but instead, reminded you fondly of your own bedroom back in your real world.
When you weren’t busy with chores and cooking, Aeva gave you free rein to roam about the village with the condition that you were to never reveal your true identity to the poor villagers. You took her worries in stride, always leaving her home with your hood and cloak on; Cerena’s signature pink hair plaited neatly and wrapped under the scratchy hood.
The reason for your excursions to town were simple: you wanted to find out the truth about why you were here in the first place.
You struck up conversations with various healers, visited the village shaman, and even spent an hour talking to the friendly barman on the merits of body swapping and waking up in a different life.
But, your research barely yielded anything fruitful.
It only served to increase your worries, driving you to the brink of a mental breakdown at the fact that you may never go back to your real world again.
That you may never see your mother or listen to her laugh as you both drank rice wine on a veranda; happy memories illuminated by the sun setting over the paddy fields. You may never roll your eyes at your best friend’s piss poor attempts at setting you up on blind dates, or enjoy your morning commute with a cup of turmeric latte.
Every single thought drew you deeper into a pit of despair.
But, you knew you had to be strong.
This was a temporary setback and you have to believe that you will return home. You have to believe that life would not be so cruel as to leave you stranded here, in a place where you were despised and ridiculed. You had to keep the faith; had to hold onto the hope that you would make it home in one piece.
There was no other option.
-
Satoru slowed his horse to a trot once he arrived in the market square, the guards flanking his sides dispersing to find you at his terse nod.
Those unyielding blue eyes swept across the square, noting the various sellers and stalls surrounding him. The smell of horse dung and rotten food scraps burned through his nose with the force of a thousand fires, and he made a face, wanting nothing more than to get this search party over, find you and take you back to the King.
For a man used to the trenches of war, peasant life will always astound him with its stink and squalor. Children with dirt-packed faces and blackened hands chase after each other. A skinny, malnourished dog feebly lifts its head when his horse trots by and a heavily pregnant woman with scars running down her arms gives him a scrutinizing look while she hangs up her linens to dry.
Satoru intended to keep this visit brief, and he is no more looking forward to the reality of finding you than he is at the thought of how you would react.
It was obvious that this was one of your usual tantrums in retaliation for not getting what you want; an act of rebellion made to paint him in a bad light.
His jaw ticks and his mood darkens at the thought of what he would do if he ever saw you again.
First things first, Satoru wouldn’t hesitate to threaten you by sword point to return back to the castle. Then, he will interrogate you on where you had been, who you spoke to, how you escaped in the first place so he can put anyone and everyone who aided you in this resistance to the sword.
Those flinty cerulean eyes shift across the market square, hoping to find a glimpse of the hooded and cloaked figure Miri had informed him about. But, all his gaze does is meet more exhausted faces; the villager’s blackened, fatigued air drawing his lips downward into a grimace.
He was close to redirecting the search party into the forest where he believed you would be hiding, when he sees the figure of his hunt.
A waifish, hooded and cloaked woman made her way past the fruit stalls, stopping to purchase an apple.
Satoru doesn’t spare another second. He threw his horse into a gallop, reaching for his sword and drawing it out of the scabbard.
The hooded woman seemed to sense his murderous intent for her all the way across the square and lifted her head.
Satoru’s eyes widened when he noticed the familiar slope of your nose; the parting of your cherubic lips frozen in a silent scream.
“Cerena!”
The blasted woman takes off, running as fast as she could straight to the forest’s edge. Satoru doesn’t know what compelled him to disembark off his horse, hastily tying the reins around an apple tree and tearing after you with his longer, stronger legs.
Your terrified expression seared through his brain when you turn around to flash him a pleading look. Satoru gritted his teeth, his larger lung capacity and fitter body making it easier for him to sweep past the trees, darting under the brushes and jumping over fallen logs to chase after you.
There is nothing but the thought of escape in your mind.
As you weaved through the trees, bounding across brooks and fell logs, your breath came out in icy pants, crystalizing right in front of your face.
You wanted to turn around and plead and beg with him to spare you, the sight of the broadsword in his hand pumping your veins full of adrenaline and the need to escape. Like a hounded prey, the predator behind you was closing in, near enough that you could hear his jagged breaths.
“Cerena—stop running!”
You pushed yourself harder, ignoring his words, forcing your legs to bring you towards a gnarly apple tree. Using muscles you haven’t utilized since you were four when you were wildly swinging from jungle bars, you expertly swung your body up the tree, clambering the thick trunk and using the spruces as your support—trying to get off the ground and hide in the foliage so he would give up and leave you alone.
But, luck was never on your side, especially when it came head-to-head with Satoru’s determination.
He circled the tree you were hiding in, those frantic blue eyes darting through the thick leaves, trying to get a glimpse of you.
“Cerena, stop this madness at once and come back home!” Satoru bellowed, cheeks splotched red with anger and frustration. “You mad woman! Get down and face your repercussions, dammit!”
A slight movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you rush to unleash your dagger, cutting through the stem of the hornet’s nest just a few inches from you.
Sensing danger, they hummed, digging their stingers into your vulnerable hand, but you paid the bites of pain no mind—focused completely on evading Satoru.
The prince’s keen ears catch a rustle, like the sound of something being sawed and he looks up into the trees, jaw clenched and icy blue eyes wild.
“Cerena! What are you doing up there? Come down, dammit!”
Without warning, a lump of something brown and scraggly falls right at his feet.
Satoru barely had time to react before he’s surrounded by a swarm of nasty wasps, stinger-triggered and ready to attack him. The sight of him swinging his broadsword to ward off the wasps would’ve been hilarious, if you didn’t use this as an opportunity to scamper down the apple tree and take off like your life depended on it.
“—Cerena!”
Your stomach sank to your feet as you quickly whipped your head back to catch him speeding up to you, the mottled flesh of his face from the wasp stings and those raging blue eyes shocking you through the core with pure, unadulterated fear.
“Please!”
You screamed, needing to run back to Aeva’s hut. She will protect you; she has to.
Sliding into the clearing, you’re almost to the home run when you feel a hard tug around your neck. Your head jerks back and you go crashing to the ground, Satoru’s bigger body enveloping yours.
“No—no!”
The shine of his sword nicks your neck, and you’re both breathing hard.
Satoru’s fiery icy azure eyes bore right into you with such potent hatred, you throw your hands to your face, bracing for the blade to slice through your neck hotly.
One second turned into two. His heavy breathing becomes a grunt, and he yanks you unceremoniously to your feet.
His arm tightened around your trembling body, face a few inches from yours as he sneered.
“You will pay for what you did to me.” Those reddened lesions from the wasps littering his neck and cheeks strike terror into your numbed heart.
“If only you hadn’t ran away from me,” he clicked his tongue as if in disappointment, and to your mortification, brought out a coil of rope from his jacket. “Then, your punishment would not be so severe.”
A hushed sob slips from between your gritted teeth as he lashed your hands together with the rope, tying it tightly enough so you wouldn’t think of running away from him again.
“Please,” you started to cry. “Please, do not hurt me. Do not harm me.”
He grunted, looping the tie into a double knot. “What in the devil are you blubbering about, woman? I have no intention of hurting you.”
Your tears trickled your cheeks like fragments of icy shards, slipping down your neck as you attempted to resist, pressing your bound palms to his broad chest and trying to push him away.
Satoru growled: “Cerena! Behave.”
The flash of disgust and anger in his eyes instantly brought to mind how he had held the sword to your bare neck—how he had wanted to kill you.
Terror seized your lungs, your scream shattering the calm quiet of the forest.
“Help me! Somebody help me! Please!”
You sobbed loudly and with full abandonment, balking whenever he tried to reach out for you, batting your useless hands against his chest and neck to try and buy yourself some time for someone to help.
In the midst of the struggle with Satoru, you missed a wizened figure stepping out of the hut, her bow and arrow pointed right at the crowned prince.
Gojo, noticing the intruder in this scene, raised his eyes, sneering at the lowly woman who dared believe she can take him on with a flimsy weapon.
“You dare point that at me? The crowned prince of the region?”
Aeva steadied her aim, the tip of the arrow quivering. The expression on her face was of fierce protectiveness, surging from seeing you being manhandled like a sack of potatoes by a man who was supposed to honor you as his fiancé.
For a brief moment, you felt a shining sense of hope—that you were going to be safe.
But, he does not yield. Despite not saying a word, his frigid glare is all the loathing he needs to dissuade Aeva from releasing the arrow. Her rheumy eyes shifted from your tear-streaked face to his furious glare and to your dismay, she slowly lowered the weapon, letting it dangle by her side.
Your gasp rang with betrayal and alarm. “Aeva… please…”
Smug that he was let off without much of a fight, Gojo used his raw strength to lift you over his shoulder, your bound hands dangling across his back, your slippered feet kicking in mid-air.
“Please! Don’t let him harm me! Aeva! Aeva—” you choke off a broken sob, unable to bear her devastated expression through your tears.
With every jarring step he took, you get further and further away from the safe house; from finding your answers and plotting your return back to your world.
Satoru didn't just tear your hopes of returning home from your hands, he also stomped them to the ground with the impending dread of his promise to Miri.
The promise to kill you should he see you again.
Crippling agony washed over you, enough to make you bitterly wail, your cries weaving through the trees as fearful images of your mangled body flashed through your mind, the end of your life brought about by this cruel prince's hand.
“Enough with the dramatics,” Satoru muttered frostily as he trudged through the thick snow, reaching his behemoth of a stallion. With barely an iota of effort, he heaped you onto the saddle, giving your thigh a hard squeeze in warning not to do anything funny.
Mounting behind you, he used his sturdier build to keep you caged in between his arms. Gripping the reins and snapping it once, his great white horse whinnies, moving to a trot as the forest and the safe house you spent these three blissful days in disappeared from your view.
You never thought your fate would end up like this: bound atop a horse like fresh game being brought back after a hunt, while a sadistic man who wants nothing more than your demise sat behind you, stoic and silent despite your hushed cries.
Anguish welled deep in your soul, manifesting as endless tears streaming down your face which you tried desperately to hide from him.
His voice broke through your frantic thoughts as a low, baritone warning.
“I told you I will force you take accountability for your actions,” Satoru muttered darkly, slowing his horse to a cant.
Without any warning, he grasped your chin and tugged hard, eliciting a gasp of fear from you, forcing your teary eyes to meet his enraged ones.
“And your punishment has only just begun, Princess.”
mtt fun fact: minced pigeon pies were brought to northern haleway by merchants from the south who introduced this alternative meat source during one of the country's harshest famines
dawn says: what kind of 'punishment' do you think satoru meant? 👀
!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3
something about children taking their piggy banks to donate all their savings to the flood victims is so beautiful, this one little guy donated all his savings for Umrah. people all over bangladesh sending everything they can to Dhaka university campus to be dispatched to the rescue teams. what a country truly
ইনি মৌমিতা দেবনাথ, পশ্চিমবঙ্গের RG Kar Medical College এর ৩১ বছর বয়সী চিকিৎসক। ৩৬ ঘন্টার ডিউটি শেষে সেমিনার রুমে বিশ্রাম নেওয়ার সময় তাকে ধ'র্ষ'ণ ও হ'ত্যা করা হয়েছে। এর বিস্তারিত ঘটনা এতটা লোমহর্ষক আর বিভৎস তা ভাষায় বলার ক্ষমতা আমার নাই।
এখানেই শেষ না, এটাকে আত্মহত্যা বলে ও চালিয়ে দেওয়ার অভিযোগ এসেছে কর্তৃপক্ষের উপর। অভিযোগ এসেছে এটার প্রতিবাদ করা মানুষদের পেটানোর ও।
আমার মনে আছে বাংলাদেশের ছাত্ররা যখন মার খাচ্ছিল, তখন পশ্চিমবঙ্গের ছাত্ররাই সবার আগে এগিয়ে এসেছিল। এখন সময় আমাদের দায়িত্ব পালনের।
আমি মনে করি বাংলাদেশের ছাত্রদের দায়িত্ব শান্তিপূর্ণভাবে এই খুনের বিচার দাবি করা এবং ওপারের মানুষের পাশে দাঁড়ানো।
বাংলাদেশের ইনফ্লুয়েন্সারদের দায়িত্ব, ধ্রুব রাঠি আর দেশভক্তের মত রোল প্লে করার। এটাই হবে ওদের নির্লজ্জ মিডিয়ার প্রপাগাণ্ডার বিরুদ্ধে আমাদের জবাব।
BNP, Jamayat, Shibir, National Party-- NOT ONE OF THEM.
In the past, when BNP was in rule, they did exactly what Awami League did. They are just as much bloodsucker, fame thirsty and immoral people like dictator Hasina.
SO, NO BNP.
NO JAMAYAT OR SHIBIR OR NP.
What we want now is a new party made by our prestigious student councilors who will reflect our opinions at the parliament.
Say it with me again.
NO KHALEDA JIA OR G.M. KADER.
NO POWER HUNGRY BITCHES ANYMORE.
Please, please, please, please-- let us truly independent our country for the first time in history of Bangladesh. Let us be free. This only remains in our hands-- the power of protecting our motherland and not let it fall into enemy's grasp again.
I agree that Hasina has lost all moral legitimacy to stay in power but this time I am not feeling good about what is going on. Dark times lay ahead, especially for Bangladeshi Hindus.
The leaders of the movement have been very staunch in their secularism so far. I hope that it stays that way and it does't fall prey to religious lines. I can see that it is already happening in some sections of the movement.
People of Bangladesh, please, please do not let BNP and other fundamentalist parties hijack everything you have achieved so far.
The teachers are crying for their dead and captured students. Students, for talking and protesting, are getting thrown into prison vans. They are being dragged out from their own home by police at midnight. Sister is clutching her brother tightly to not let him get arrested. Rickshaw puller is saluting the students for their fantastic movement. We, general people are marching on the road, voicing our unity with the students. Teachers are saying they are students now, and the real students have taught them how to protest.
It's oddly beautiful and melancholic, everything that has been happening. Never have I ever saw my country rise against the dictators who have been ruling us for 15 years. They have done wrongs, wrongs, wrongs, wrongs and so much, too many wrongs-- so all this rage against them are actually builded up for years, and now it has burst out like volcano lava. Today, my siblings are out there, despite coldness and rain, shivering and singing, pointing at the police and militaries who have raised their guns against them.
Dictators are saying 209 people were killed, which is already terrifying, but the real number is much greater. About 900 people, including children-- shot from balconies, old people-- shot inside marchs and homes, students-- shot while protesting peacefully, and my so poor citizens, who had to go out in the road to feed their family, were killed by assaulting riffles.
But still, through all this pain, murder, cries, pleas, hurt and rage-- the new, young generation of Bangladesh have risen. It's absolutely mesmerizing how they are standing up against the ruling government. The hands which have held pens think twice before holding guns; so that's how we have reborn, from ashes and blood. My country. So beautiful.
Children martyred by the heinous illegal shootings by Bangladesh Police, Rapid Action Battalion, Border Guard of Bangladesh
1. Ahad (4): bullet penetrated his eye and stuck in head
2. Riya (6): martyred whilst playing on her rooftop, shoot from a helicopter
3. Hossain (10): martyred while trying to watch the resistance procession
4. Samir (11): shot while trying to close the windows
5. Mobarak (13): shot while trying to watch the procession
6. Tahmid (14): while fatally wounded himself, he saw an elderly person get shot. The police shot him in his wounds while he was trying to carry the elderly person to safety
7. Ifat (16): shot while trying to watch the procession
8. Naima (16): stray bullet shot her in her own balcony
The co-ordinators of the Dhaka division of the current quota reform movement, who were previously arrested from their homes by white collar officers- declared the end of resistance on national television
Anti-quota movement leaders in Bangladesh say their original demands have been met, though one student group says it believes they were spea
In the picture, the man reading the statement is seen with a newspaper widespread upon his lap, obstructing part of his body from view.
Later this picture comes into circulation -
We can imagine the circumstances under which they gave their statements.
The following day (today: 29th July, 2024)
The movement commenced once again, as the students rejected the forced statement. Police, Army officers and BGB were deployed throughout central locations in every city. There are over 140+ students arrested without bail for simply being on the streets (there was no curfew)
The police is blatantly rejecting the supreme court's orders to not assault, apprehend or charge students.
I am at loss for words, I have nothing to say. Please, be our voices, speak for us as man as you can! We beg you not to let this autocracy devour more of my brothers and sisters than they already have!
We are being threatened to be cut off from the internet once again - and it might happen sooner than we think
They're silencing us and slaughtering is in our own homes in the dead of night. Be our voice! Shine light upon this appalling breach of humanity!
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