#alan bailey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jooskyimo · 1 year

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Jared: Alan Bailey

(content tags: NSFW, M+M, character/POV switching, language, stalking, kidnapping, NC, drugs, gore, murder, frotteurism, hematolagnia, cannibalism)

PART ONE: ALAN'S POV

Dear Alan Bailey.

I know you love me too. Just fucking tell me. Come on, Alan. You fucking admire me. You want me. You love thinking of me. You want me inside you again. You want my cock inside you. You're scared to tell me. But it's okay. I can wait a little longer. You know I love you.

From, Jared.

"The fuck?" I quietly exclaimed. "What the fuck?" I got up and started pacing around the room. "What the fucking fuck, seriously?"

"What does it say, Alan?" Casey said, sitting on the edge of the couch seat with his head in his hands and his eyes closed tightly. He anticipated the worst, but was clinging onto hope that Jared hadn't written another disgusting letter.

"It's just more bullshit about him loving me." I sighed, plopping myself down onto the couch next to Casey. "I don't understand why he does this shit."

Casey looked up at me with a disgusted look on his face. "What is wrong with him, dude? You've been friends since you were like 5, what the hell happened?"

I shook my head. "I have no idea. We were close. So fucking close, Casey. We were like brothers." I looked down at my arm, realizing I'd been picking at the skin. "He started doing really tiny things a few years ago. It started off okay, now he's just weird. But fuck, man, I'd give anything just to have the old Jared back. He never used to do this shit." I leaned my head back and started scraping my skin harder.

Casey scoffed. "Well, why dont you just ignore him?What the hell is he gonna do about it?"

I stayed quiet. Not because I didn't know the answer, but because I was scared of even thinking about it.

3 years ago. My 15th birthday. Jared was the only one I had invited. I didn't like the thought of a big party, and I wanted to spend the day having fun with my best friend. Jared had just turned 16, but he hadn't thrown a party so that we would just celebrate both our birthdays at my party. And we did. But he got a lot more out of it than I did.

After we got back to my house we ate pizza, and then Jared suggested we try something. I asked him what and he told me that he saw something in a gay porn and he wanted to test it out since he was curious. We were both still questioning basically everything about ourselves, and we had both been talking about how we were both more strongly attracted to guys. We played these comments off as jokes, but deep down, we both knew what it was. We were gay.

He wanted me to suck his dick. As his birthday present. And since I loved him with every fiber of my being, I said sure.

I did it, and at the time, it felt fucking amazing. It was the most fun thing I'd ever done with him. That was the day we officially came out to each other.

After that, things went downhill.

He wanted to further our relationship, but he didn't start out being super pushy. He gave a gentle nudge, hinting towards the idea, then I'd politely reject him, maintaining the mindset that we had been best friends since we were in elementary school, and I didn't want to mess up the longest friendship I'd ever had. So he wouldn't bring it up for a few days.

But then it started happening every day. Then nonstop. By the time I was 17, he was annoyingly persistent about it to the point where we couldn't even have a normal conversation. At this point I was even more uncomfortable. I rejected him for the last time and told him if he ever hit on me like that again our friendship would be over. Forever.

He didn't take that well. I didn't want to hang out with him much anymore, so I hadn't seen him for a couple weeks. He started sending letters to me and banging on my front door and my bedroom window in the middle of the night. But this letter was unlike anything he had sent before.

I looked down at my arm and realized it was bleeding.

"Alan?" Casey got my attention.

"Yeah, what?" I looked at him.

He handed me a tissue from the box on the coffee table. "Your arm is bleeding."

"I noticed." I looked back down and wiped my arm with the tissue.

"Oh fuck."

"What, Casey?" I sighed, looking up. He was standing in front of me, shaking and staring straight at the window behind me. My eyes widened as I realized what was happening. "Get in the bathroom." He nodded and ran.

I got up and slowly turned towards the window. There he was. Staring right back at me. He had this little smirk, like the smug bastard he is.

"FUCK, JARED!" I yelled. I took a second to catch my breath and walked toward the window and opened it just enough to talk to him. He smelled like pine needles and dirt with a hint of freshly cut grass, and he was wearing a dirty gray hoodie over an uncharacteristically clean blue t-shirt, with one of the hoodie sleeves hanging off of his shoulder. His hair was fluffed up and messy, and there was dirt on his face. "What the hell are you doing here, Jared." I demanded. It came out more as a statement than a question.

"Just trying to see what your hot ass is doing. Speaking of your ass..." He grinned and looked me up and down and I could see his pupils dilate in the faint light coming from the living room. "Fuck. You don't even know, dude. I'd do some nice shit to you, Alan."

I felt the anger building up. I clenched my fist. I took a deep breath, holding it in. "You need to stop. Now."

"You know, it's pretty hot when you get mad at me." He smiled.

I clenched my jaw. "Jared, get the fuck out of here." I said it in the most authoritative voice I could without yelling and waking anyone up. "Fucking. Leave."

"You're so fucking beautiful." He looked down. I followed his gaze and saw he was hard.

I cringed. "Ugh."

"Mhm. You want it, don't you?" He moaned as he rubbed it.

"I'm calling the police, Jared."

"Whoa whoa, babe, calm down." He laughed, putting his hands up and taking a couple steps back. "I'll leave. Okay? Just..." He took out his phone. "Let me get a good picture of you, babe. I'm gonna need it."

I sighed. "Jared. Stop fucking calling me that."

"Stop calling you what?" He smirked, his phone pointed towards me.

"Babe."

He laughed. "Ooh, you fell for it! Got it." He looked down at his phone. "Fuck yeah." He looked back at me.

I slammed the window shut and he started banging on it. I could hear him yelling "Babe! Come back!" and shit like that. I didn't turn, just went straight to my room. God, I would kill him if I wouldn't get arrested.

Fuck. Him.

PART TWO, JARED'S POV

Dear Alan Bailey.

I love you more than you'll ever know. But if you can't accept that, if you can't return that love...

Maybe I'll need to force you to learn how to love me back.

From, Jared.

After banging on his living room window for a couple minutes, I accepted that he had probably gone to sleep or forgot or something. I looked down. I was still super fucking hard.

"Ffffuuuuuuucckk." I groaned, leaning my head back and shoving my hands into my pockets. I walked across his backyard and sat cross legged in the freshly trimmed grass for a few minutes. For the first time in a while I felt genuinely defeated.

I looked back down at it.

"Aw, fuck it."

I unzipped my jeans and started jerking off. All I could think about was the fact that Alan was right there. His smooth skin, his shiny hair, his beautiful fucking puppy dog eyes... All of it, just waiting for me. Barely tens of feet away. I could just walk in and fuck him. He was so close. So close. So. Fucking. Close.

"Oh, shit..." I moaned as I came. It was a lot. All over my new shirt I had bought just to impress Alan. Damn.

The next morning, I woke up in my bed, hungry and still tired. I looked at my phone to admire my lockscreen, a picture I had of Alan and I from 9th grade. His smile was so pretty. I hadn't seen that smile from him in years. After sitting in bed for a few hours, I dragged myself out of bed and washed my face, then ate a bowl of cereal, staring out the kitchen window to watch kids bike past in the street, as they did every morning. It reminded me of riding my bike to the arcade with Alan after school. That was the same arcade we had our birthday party in. And the last time we went anywhere together, aside from school. After breakfast, I put on a gray t-shirt and my hoodie and skateboarded to Alan's house to hide in the yard and watch him leave for work.

As I sat there, in the bushes beside his house, I checked the time. It was 10. That was way later than usual, and Alan still hadn't come out. I smiled. If he was still home, and if his roommate was gone, this was a great opportunity.

I grabbed my keys, spinning them on my finger and whistling as I walked up to his front door. I unlocked it, and walked right in. I knew he had no clue I could do that, which made it even better. I locked the door behind me and moved the couch in front of it as quietly as I could.

"I'm coming, babe. Don't worry. I'm finally here." I whispered to myself and smiled.

I snuck up the stairs and walked towards Alan's room. I creaked open the door and peeked inside.

There was Alan, in his bed. He'd probably called in sick so he could sleep in. Classic Alan. I sat down next to his bedroom door with my eyes closed, peacefully listening to Alan's gentle snoring and quiet moans. I smiled. He's fucking adorable, especially when he has nightmares. The noises alone...

I sat there so long I almost fell asleep myself, but I heard Alan clear his throat and moan as he got out of bed and stretched.

"Shit." I whispered. I carefully walked into the bathroom right across from Alan's room. I heard him walk down the stairs. "Shit." And I meant it this time. The front door was right at the bottom of the stairs. He was gonna see the couch and the muddy shoe prints. He was gonna know.

"Oh, what the hell?"

Fuck. No. Please. Come on...

"God damn it, Case. I told you to stop doing this shit. The doors lock just fine by themselves." As he climbed back up the stairs I could hear his voice getting closer. His hot. Fucking. Voice.

I heard him open the door to Casey's room.

"Case, why did..." He paused. "Case? What the fuck..."

Casey wasn't home. Perfect.

I heard him coming back towards the bathroom.

I had to do it.

Now.

I popped out of the bathroom and blocked the hallway, my arms and legs stretched out and my hands pressed against the walls.

"JARED! NO! GET THE FUCKING HELL OUT!" He tried to push past me.

"Don't." I demanded. He tried to slip through the space between me and the wall and I growled, kicking him in the gut. He fell to the floor. I got on top of him, trapping his hands under my legs, and grabbed his neck, keeping my other hand over his mouth to stop him from screaming. I looked into his eyes deeply as a tear rolled down his face.

This made me fucking livid. I felt a knot in my stomach, and anger- but mostly sadness- filled my head.

I forrowed my brows and leaned in a bit. "Why are you crying? Aren't you happy I'm here?"

He started breathing heavily and closed his eyes tightly. I planted a soft kiss on his cheek and he started breathing slower.

"Babe. Look at me." We stared into each other's eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. Trust me. But please be quiet, okay? I love you. You'll be okay."

He nodded, a sad and scared expression on his face. I removed my hand from his mouth, but kept the other one lightly but still firmly around his neck.

"Okay. See? You're okay, baby."

He looked up at me, his eyes twinkling, wet with tears.

I wiped the tears from his face. "It's gonna be okay. I told you I wouldn't hurt you. I love you." I know he fucking blushed when I said that. I could fucking tell. That bitch blushed so hard.

"Say it back, Alan."

Another tear fell. He shook his head. "Please, no." He shut his eyes tightly.

I laughed. "Babe, come on." I strengthened my grip on his neck. I could tell he was starting to struggle to breathe.

He opened his eyes and squirmed. "I love you, okay? Just... Let go..." He choked out.

That shit hit me deep. I was hard as fuck.

"Oh, fuuuckkk meee..." I groaned quietly. "You really are amazing." I started rubbing against him, and then I realized.

He. Was. Fucking. Hard.

He let out a small whimper, and he was definitely blushing now.

"What the fuck... You're hard?"

"No. No..." He started struggling to get away, but I was sitting on his lap and he couldn't move at all. "Ugh, god damn it! What is wrong with you?" His face was red.

I grinned. "You fucking are, you little nasty slut. God, you're hot. I knew you loved me." I stood up and grabbed him by his arms, pulling him along with me. "We're going back to my house, babe."

I was jerking off during the drive back home. I just couldn't help it. He was so hot. Laying there, all tied up in my back seat.

I tied him to one of my dining chairs, then pulled a bottle of drugged water out of the fridge. "Here, drink this. Don't want you dehydrated." I poured some of the water into his mouth, and he swallowed it. "I'm gonna have some fun with you."

"What?"

"I'm gonna torture you in the best way. I'm gonna savor you." I walked up to him and placed my hand on his cheek. "I love you, Alan." I pulled him towards me and kissed him. His lips were soft and smooth like rose petals and they tasted like his vanilla and strawberry lip balm. As I pulled away, I looked into his eyes and he looked back into mine. They were wide, and honestly he looked like he enjoyed it.

"Oh, did you like that?" I smiled.

He stared up at me. He seemed more calm.

"Well?" He looked down at the floor to hide his face. I lifted it back up. "Come on. You can tell me." I kissed him again. "How did that make you feel?"

"I... I got chills." He said quietly.

"In a good way, right?"

He didn't reply, and looked down again. I stood up and went to grab duct tape, smiling the whole time. He liked it. I knew he loved me.

I tore the tape with my teeth and put a piece over his mouth. "You're still hard, baby?" I grinned, putting my hand on his bulge. "Can't believe this is really happening."

He whined and shut his eyes tightly as I moved my hand slowly, rubbing his cock through his sweatpants. "If you really did like me back this whole time, why the hell would you make me wait like this, baby?"

Alan ignored my question and shifted his weight, leaning back in the chair, and thrusted his hips, pressing his dick harder against my hand. I pulled away and reached up to tear the tape off. Alan let out a yell. "Now. Tell me why, pretty boy."

He hung his head and breathed heavily. "I don't... I really, really don't like you, man."

I scoffed. "Well that's a fucking lie. You blushed when I kissed you, and you just got flustered from me touching you. Come on. You love me."

He shook his head, looking back up at me. "No. Just sensitive. Any guy could do that to me."

"Oh really? Any guy?"

"Well, I mean, not an ugly guy, but..."

"Oh? So you think I'm hot?"

"Jared, come on."

"Well, that's what you just implied."

"Jared. This is like the third time you've fucking kidnapped me. How the hell are you not in jail?"

"Well, you never call anyone or tell anyone about it. Casey doesn't even know about the more extreme stuff I've done to you. To be honest," I leaned closer, grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes, "kinda makes me think you don't want me to stop."

He scoffed, pulling away and hanging his head again. I stood back up, glaring down at him. "Well then. If you're gonna be a fucking bitch about it," I pulled a pocketknife out of my back pocket and flipped it open. "I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson." I leaned in, my face close to his so he could feel my breath against his lips, tracing his jawline with the blade. "Teach you how to respect me."

"I won't. I'll never respect you. You're a piece of shit. Fuck you." He spat at me. I backed up and stared down at him angrily. It honestly hurt that he would do something like that.

"That's mean."

"You're mean." A tear fell down his cheek.

I was conflicted. Stood for a minute or so. Watching. His beautiful twinkling eyes staring back up at me. His pretty crying. His smile. His beautiful body, leaning forward as if to intimidate me.

I decided.

I lunged and grabbed him by his neck, holding him back as I hooked the blade of my knife under his shirt and tore through it. I dropped the knife, ripping the shirt with my bare hands. An animal tearing into another animal purely based on instinct. Aggression. Passion.

PART THREE, ALAN'S POV

Dear Alan Bailey.

God damn it. I miss you. Alan. I fucking miss you so much. Why can't you just admit you love me back? Then we could just skip this drama and finally be together. Why not, Alan? Why don't you love me??? Why the fuck not???

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I screamed as he ripped my shirt open, trying desperately to hold him back.

"Teaching you a lesson, like I said." He smiled at me. I hate his smile.

So fucking smug.

Disgusting.

Horrible.

Vile.

I kicked my legs, aiming to hit him anywhere I could. "Get off, you fucking psycho!" He grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back. I stopped kicking.

He stared into my eyes for a few seconds, then his face got really close to mine. "You need to stop doing that, Alan. I'm here to take care of you, and you're making it really, really difficult." He sat in my lap while he said this. I felt my cock throbbing in my jeans, and it felt so good against him. He traced the blade gently across my face and neck with his other hand still pulling my hair, then started grinding against me. I moaned softly, accepting his attempt to calm me down. It shouldn't have worked, but it did.

Maybe a little too well.

"Oh fuck, did you just..."

I was really hoping he wouldn't notice.

He grinned. "That's hot. Thought you didn't like me. Your feelings definitely change fast, don't they?"

"Shut up, Alan. I told you before, I'm sensitive. You don't have to make fun of me."

"Yeah, but that didn't seem like you just being sensitive. You were moaning. You were enjoying it." He smiled, then leaned in and kissed me softly. I couldn't speak or react. I wanted to yell at him or punch him or push him away, but I couldn't. It was like I was hypnotized, just staring back into his eyes. I knew I was blushing because of his stupid reaction and smug grin.

He kissed me again, and again, grinding against me the whole time, letting out these really soft and hot moans, and a minute later I was hard again.

I was actually kinda starting to enjoy it. Why the fuck did I feel like this? He's disgusting. I've tried for years to distance myself from this creep, and now all those feelings of hatred were just gone because he was a little charismatic? No. No. This is fucking stupid.

He got up and went into his bedroom, and I felt adrenaline start pumping through my veins. I tried with all my strength to separate my arms and get the rope off, but it was tied tight, and the pulling made the knot tighter.

"Shit."

"You say something, babe?"

"No." I started sweating. Fuck. What the hell was I gonna do? Then I saw the knife on the counter. It was a couple feet away. If I could get to it without making too much noise, I could get free and maybe stab this fucker. Then I could run out into the street and be saved. I smiled as I began to feel free again.

I scooted the chair across the floor to the counter, and it didn't make sound. Thank god Jared used furniture pads on everything. I kept scooting closer and closer until I finally got there. I looked around, trying to figure out how to get the knife, when I heard Jared coming back in.

"So, I couldn't find my favorite knife, but I found some-" He looked up, first at me, then at the knife. "Oh, no, you don't." He laughed, pulling my chair back and grabbing the knife. Shit. "You're a smart little guy, aren't you? Trying to escape. Too bad you couldn't grab the knife. You were so close to being free, weren't you?"

I clenched my jaw at his condescending remarks.

"I think you deserve a punishment for that." He stared at me for a second, then suddenly lunged and grabbed my left foot, holding my leg straight out. I wiggled, trying to get my leg free.

"No! No, stop it!"

"This is what happens when you try to leave me." He put the knife to my upper thigh, and dragged the blade all the way down my leg. I winced and breathed through my teeth. He didn't cut deep, but he used enough force to draw blood, resulting in a long, red line down my leg, dripping blood onto the floor.

"Stop it, please." I sobbed.

"No. You haven't learned your lesson yet." He put the knife back at the start of the cut, and started to slice into it again. I screamed, and he dropped the knife and my leg and slapped his hand over my mouth. "What the hell is wrong with you? You want somebody to hear you?" He looked deeper into my eyes. "You want me to get in trouble?"

My eyes started to water. I shook my head.

"Good." He let go, and picked up my leg again.

I had to do something.

I kicked him with my other leg, hitting him in the chin. He groaned and stood back up, stumbling backwards and running into the wall. "Fuck, ow! You bitch!" I started to struggle with the ropes again.

"No. You're not getting away." He ran towards me, and I leaned to the side. I fell, and he tripped over the legs of the chair, running into his dining table. "Fuck, okay. That one hurt a lot." He knelt over, holding his stomach. "I can't fucking breathe. Holy shit."

I found the knot and started to untie it. I kept struggling to find the right curves and twists in the knot. Jared started to get up again, and I finally undid the knot and struggled to stand. I started to run just as he reached out to grab me, but I fell over as the surging pain in my leg reminded me it wouldn't be that easy. I screamed in pain, and he dragged me by my shoulders back to the chair.

"Let me go! Please!" I could barely get my words out between my sobs and gasps for air. I kept crying as he lifted the chair and sat me on it, then started to tie me up yet again. He kissed me, and almost fell over as he tried to catch his breath.

"You're a tough one." He said as he sat on my lap, resting his arms over my shoulders and leaning his forehead against mine. "But you aren't leaving. I can't let you."

I wanted to try to get him off of me, but I felt myself starting to get tired, and the strength started to leave my body.

PART FOUR, JARED'S POV

Dear Alan Bailey,

I jerked off to our school pictures like 7 times today. Might be a new record. You looked so hot in your basketball shorts. Ever since we were in middle school, I've fantasized about fucking you in the locker room, with our gym shorts and sneakers on, just going at it like fucking animals and ignoring anybody who saw us. Me pulling your soft hair, you screaming my fucking name like the pretty slut you are.

I think about it every day, Alan. That night on your birthday. Seeing you on your knees in front of me, and seeing you swallow my cum. I hope we can do that again someday.

Love, Jared.

"Fuck, you're still so hard." I laughed. "You really put up a fight, Alan."

He whined, trying to get me off of him.

"Come on, Alan. Anyone could see that this whole thing is performative. You just don't wanna admit that you like me. But you do. I can tell. You came earlier, and you're still hard, even after I cut you. I'm not the only one enjoying this."

He didn't say anything. Just sat there, leaned his head back, and moaned while I kept grinding against him.

"I want you."

It was so quiet, and he hadn't said anything for a few minutes, so I wasn't even sure he actually said it. "Did you say something?"

"I want you so bad." He slurred.

Holy shit. He really meant it.

I felt a chill, and my cock was sore from waiting so long. I stood up, starting to take off my shorts. I looked at him, and he was looking drowsy. He couldn't even keep his head up. My mood went from excited to pissed.

He didn't mean it. It was the fucking drugs.

"Fuck. Fuck!!"

"What's wrong?" He mumbled.

"God damn it!" I screamed and slammed my fist against the wall. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down.

"Jared?"

Just breathe.

"Jared, come back." He laughed, almost falling over in the chair.

Breathe.

"Okay. Okay. Y'know what, Alan?" I picked up the knife and walked back over to him, trying to stay calm. He just stared back up at me, waiting. I closed my eyes and took a step closer.

Breathe.

Another step.

Stay calm.

"What are you doing?"

Breathe.

I opened my eyes. "I'm sorry, Alan." I put the knife to his throat.

"What do you mean? What-"

"I'm sorry."

Cut.

I felt a surge of energy spread through my body. My eyes focused on Alan, and thick, red blood spilled from his neck and bubbled as these choking, gurgling sounds came from him.

"Jared..." he choked.

I sat in his lap again, and kissed his bloody lips as the life left him. I felt his last breath on my lips. I tasted his blood. I put my hands against him, covering them in his blood, and smeared it against my body.

"Fuck."

I sat with him for a few minutes before I untied him from the chair, and dragged him to the middle of the room, and got on top of him, just like we were in the hallway that morning. I laid on top of him, kissing him and caressing him.

"Now you won't leave me."

It took me those 3 days to get used to his death. It didn't affect me very much, probably because in a way he was still there. I missed him more when he was alive, because he was never with me. But now he was. He didn't have the choice to leave me anymore.

He laid there in my kitchen for 3 days. The smell didn't bother me. I actually kinda liked it.

He was with me forever.

I even tried eating him a couple times. The first time, I cooked a part of him and tried it with seasonings. The second time I ate him by himself, with nothing else. The second one was definitely better. It felt more pure. It was just him.

I cut him in every place I could, just to see what was inside. It was all so pretty. Every time I touched his blood or anything inside him, it made me feel something I never felt before. It was all so satisfying. The slick feeling of his organs, and the sounds that came from them when I touched them.

By the time I was ready to get rid of him, he was a ripped apart corpse covered in blood and organs.

I didn't know what to do with the rest of him for a while. I had cleaned the blood and evidence from his house and mine, but I didn't have an idea for what was left of his body. I ended up keeping some in the fridge for later, and then putting some of him through the garbage disposal, and the rest got flushed down the toilet. That seemed to work.

Alan Bailey. He was my first, and my favorite.

I love you, Alan Bailey.

#horror #stalker #short story #original story #original fiction #original horror #jared #alan bailey #mlm horror

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artist-issues · 1 year

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And another thing.

The original The Little Mermaid is about understanding. One of the main plot devices is that the witch takes what from Ariel, ladies and gentlemen?

Her voice.

Ariel did not leave the sea “for a boy.”

Ariel left the sea to be understood. Because for the whole first part of the movie, we’re shown hints of what her life is already like, and how she’s tried to be understood but nobody’s listening or communicating.

She’s introduced by describing a ship as amazing and wonderful, while her fish friend clearly does not understand and wants to get out of there.

Even her best friend doesn’t share her love for another world.

Her first interaction with her father, count how many times he’s speaking over her.

He has this prejudice against humans, and because she’s disobeyed him, he won’t listen to any of her evidence that they may not all be bad.

Even when she has a voice and a cavern full of proof that humans aren’t all barbarians, her father won’t listen to her, so he can’t understand.

And the truth is, she doesn’t have that much proof. She knows that humans are clever and make “wonderful things,” and that’s what she bases her belief in them on. But those beautiful objects, and her pretty ideals, are not enough to make her abandon her family and culture and world.

When she sings and talks about why she wants to be Part of That World, it’s because she wants to understand it. And, subconsciously, Ariel also hopes to be understood up there. Where they make cool devices, and maybe daughters can stand instead of being reprimanded. There’s this hope for freedom and being known associated with the surface.

But it’s not until she meets Eric that those ideals are really, actually, proven true.

Ariel sees Eric out on the sea exploring instead of staying in a palace on his birthday. He gets a gift from the closest person to him, and it’s clear that even the closest person to him doesn’t understand his tastes—he doesn’t want an over-dramatic statue of himself. He sticks to his ideals in an argument that somewhere out there, is the right girl for him. But he doesn’t have to leave the argument in frustrated tears. In the end, he risks his life to not only watch out for his friend, but nearly dies going back to a burning ship to save his dog.

Eric personifies everything Ariel has always idealized about the Human World—AND he might understand her.

In her one observation of him, she finds out that he, a human, is:

A Prince, but nobody can tell him what to do.

More interested in activity and exploration than palace ceremony.

Unable to relate to his closest companions.

Handsome—beautiful, not a savage.

Criticized for “silly, romantic notions” but sticks to the idea of something wonderful out there in the great beyond.

Brave, self-sacrificial, and compassionate to animals.

Eric is, all at once, everything Ariel always hoped a human could be, and yet still so like herself. They have twin souls.

She’d rather be exploring human ships, he’d rather be out exploring the sea. She believes the surface world is good and beautiful, he believes in the girl of his dreams, no matter what anyone says. She has nobody who gets excited about new adventures, and he has nobody who gets excited about new adventures.

When she sees him, she falls in love not just with his upstanding character, or even the human world he represents—she falls in love with the hope that he might understand her in away nobody under the sea does.

Then the ironic thing is, she’s got to make him understand who she is and what she should mean to him without a voice. And unfortunately, that’s really hard because he is suddenly associating his dream girl with a voice and a magical rescue.

As close as they may get when she finally does meet him face to face and gets herself human legs, Ariel and Eric can’t be together until he knows who she is, for real. After all, how can love be true without understanding?

And we’re not DONE with understanding. Because even after he learns what and who she is and still commits to her and saves her and loves her, Ariel’s back to having a tail. She’s back to being in a world where he can’t be.

Except now, Triton is the one who understands. He finally sees what they’ll do for each other—and that Eric, ”savage, spineless, harpooning fish eater with no regard” saved his daughter. He sees that they love each other and are each worthy of the other’s love.

It’s not until Triton understands what Ariel has known and felt all along that he gives her human legs the right way.

That’s the point of Disney’s The Little Mermaid. “True love is found in understanding and sacrificing for one another.”

Triton had the sacrificing idea down, but he didn’t have understanding. Eric had understanding, but he didn’t have the chance to sacrifice for it.

Ariel has both. She understands that Eric’s world is not only barbaric, but beautiful, and she’s willing to sacrifice her tail to be understood in that world.

That is what this movie is all about. And because they’re probably willing to sacrifice critical scenes, like the Prince saving the day (which is important because it provides Triton with a new understanding of humans) or the girl leaving the ocean to be with the boy (which is important because what she really wants is to be understood) the creators of the Live Action Little Mermaid are going to miss the point and ruin the movie.

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