prompt: slice of life; scenes of your day to day with namjoon, talking about anything and everything
genre: fluff
word count: 840
*
I.
There was no answer when you knocked on the door, so you enter. He was slumped with laser-sharp eyes towards the audio software. You tap on his shoulder gently, then slowly move your hands towards his temples to massage his head.
"Hey," you begin softly, "you've been here a while. Can I get you anything?"
He lets out a deep sigh. You can tell how stress he is. "No, I'm good. But can you listen to this verse? I think something's missing, although I'm not sure what it is."
"I will, but only after you go with me outside." He was about to protest when you cut him off, "I know you have your deadlines, but I need you to see the sun once in a while, okay?"
He doesn't answer. You push further, "Come on, it's autumn."
He relents. A little quicker this time, you note. Maybe he knew deep inside that he could use some fresh air. "Where to?"
You were not sure where you wanted to go, you just wanted to walk with him. You exchanged a few words, opting to immerse yourself in the surroundings instead.
You found yourself at the neighbourhood park and were pleasantly greeted by a calming mix of greens, oranges, and yellows.
He stops walking for a moment. You look at him, waiting. He probably noticed something, you thought.
He hums in fascination, "leaves are falling."
II.
"Don't you think it's quite amazing how the moon, as unassuming as it is, gives people refuge?" You think out loud. "Like I'm thinking about it, right? It's just one moon, nothing too special. But countless people have seen it and thought of something. Maybe a memory or something poetic."
"I don't know," you're struggling to find words, "but isn't it just amazing how we just associate the moon with so much meaning?"
He nods as he sits beside you on the terrace. "Yes, but nature in general, too, right? Whether it's mountains, rivers, parks, or the changing of the seasons. We put meaning in these things."
"I wonder why, but I mean, I do them too--putting meaning into things. I guess it's both our jobs to overthink things." You laugh softly.
He engages further into the conversation. "I find it interesting, though. These seemingly trivial things, sure, they look the same to everyone, but they have been tagged with different meanings by all who've seen them. It's quite comforting to think about, actually. It just feels so inherently human."
III.
There is a fond smile that greets your face when you open the website.
"Namjoon-ah, you wouldn't believe this"
"Hmm, what's up?"
You show him your phone, "I found my angsty poetry blog from high school and it's so fascinating"
He sits up properly against the headboard. "Oh my god, let's read everything"
"Okay, so the latest one says:"
'Last week, I visited my old school. It was nice to revisit the place where I spent most of my life in. I don’t know if I’ve romanticized it by now, but everything feels so untainted to me. It existed before so much happened. I was still happy then.
I keep thinking about her. Who she was. What made her happy. If she would have been proud of me. If she would have recognized me. I feel so disconnected and so different from her. I think she wanted to be a doctor. She was good at science. She smiled a lot. The only thing that made her cry so much was her graduation day because leaving is painful. It still is.
I’m leaving again soon. I wonder if she would have wanted me to stay.'
"I actually like that, it's introspective" he comments.
"Yeah, I kind of remember where I was in life when I wrote this," you say. "It's nice to reminisce now, but that was a hard time."
He holds your hand, "Yeah, it must have been a lot," he softly brushes his fingers in comfort, "but I'm really thankful you got through it and you're here now."
"Yeah, I'm here now."
"Read more," he nudges as if to tease.
"Okay, there's actually a prompt for this one, which was 'where does your sorrow go when you find yourself completely alone?'" you explain, "I think it's a line from a song."
it goes to you
whoever you are
wherever you may be
like elias
who owes his sorrow
to his home
home is where the sorrow is
don't you think so?
and i just keep on
coming back
to you
and i just keep on
coming home
to you
"Home is where the sorrow is, huh?" he hums, "what does that make me, then?"
"Well, if we're going by my high school self, I guess you're my sorrow."
He gasps as if he was accused "Why would you say that? I'm sad now. I guess you're my sorrow, too."
"Well, you're my sorrow because I miss you all the time, but you're my happiness as well," you explain thoroughly, "you're my everything."
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Victor Frankenstein: I’ve created life but I refuse to put any effort into helping that life develop. I won’t teach him, love him, or defend him even though I forced him into existence with a fully operational adult brain lol. Peace, bitch.
An ironic parallel considering the idea of “tough love” parenting that plenty of boomers like to use. If they buy into the idea that their kids just have to toughen up and face the real world without guidance or emotional support, I’m sure it does scare them to read a story where someone who wasn’t given any support began to resent their creator and turn on them.
it’s like that post that’s like ‘knowledge is knowing that frankenstein is the doctor; wisdom is knowing that frankenstein is the monster’. like the whole point of the post is that frankenstein’s monster is a victim of viktor frankenstein’s own monstrosity.
mary shelley did not lose her virginity on her mother’s grave just for people to misunderstand her best known work over a century later.
You guys are half-right. You are right that Victor was in the wrong to abandon the monster and that is clearly represented in the text. But you’re kind of reading the book from too much of a modern lense.
Mary did not write her novel to preach an unmuddied and easy to understand message about parenthood and abandonment. (That’s why her novel is good. And not, you know, a bad modern preachy movie.) She wrote it to kind of bend the rules of monsters. She wrote it to raise questions of blame, morality, and responsibility, not to answer them.
Once you commit a murder, no matter how bad your childhood was, you are responsible for yourself and your actions, the monster murdered innocent people. Then he tries to turn around and say how misunderstood he was and that’s why he started KILLING CHILDREN. If the monster was good at heart and only misunderstood, he would have stepped forward and taken the blame for William’s murder so that the innocent and falsely accused Justine didn’t have to die. But he didn’t. He was, in fact, a monster. Why he became a monster is when the whiny, responsibility-dodging Victor becomes culpable. But Victor’s culpability does not erase the monster’s.
The twist of Frankenstein is not that the creator is the monster and the monster is the victim, but rather that they are both the monster and both the victim. To what extent they are one or the other, that’s the great unanswered question in the text. And it is because it is unanswered that the text goes down in history as a great piece of literature. And NOT as a whiny teen novel that says, “My parents were mean to me so now nothing I ever do for the rest of my life is my fault.”
dededos
kianamaiart
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
annaxmalina
