#it’s isolating and exhausting and sometimes really lonely

[korkietism]

It’s a bit silly but I get a bit peeved when people fail to understand the complexities of things yet still pass harsh judgements. Or when people claim to support someone but then actively go against that.

A lot of autistic support I see isn’t actually very supportive methinks. They’re supportive of the idea of us. They like the idea of special interests and stimming. It loses appeal when we act weird and get irritable and miss out on events constantly. It’s no longer a tism moment when you’re seen as a bother.

[neil-gaiman]

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.)

[sexlapis]

Ho! I loooooooveeee your actor toji fics! Is it possible to get added to the taglist? Thank you ~

Also an idea: a bts scene of reader getting sick on set(perhaps even collapsing) due to fatigue and toji taking care of them- I feel like that'd be such a hit ship moment irl :D

thank you for liking my fics <3 you can be added to the tag list 🩵.

and omg yeah i love that idea of reader overworking themselves and toji looking after them :’). and yeah i didn’t make it a behind the scenes clip i made a short fic abt it bc i do not know when to stop.. like give me an idea and i will fly away w it like a bird liek..i don’t even think this is what you asked for srsly…i hope you don’t mind (but i’ll add it to my tojiyn headcanons hehe)

cw: actor toji x actress reader, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, swearing, petnames (‘kid’, ik people don’t like this one but i think it’s so sweet & so toji :)), collapsing, mentions of skipping meals/not eating, poor sleeping habits, feelings of loneliness & inadequacy, crying, toji taking care of reader, i made this way more angsty than you asked sorry :(

wc: 2k+

you dragged yourself through the doors of the studio, immediately bombarded by directors, stylists, scrip writers and other cast members on your way to the dressing room, only fuelling your fatigue and stress.

sleep was a foreign concept at this point. five hours at most. so were healthy, filling meals - the last time you ate was yesterday at noon, and for breakfast today all you had was a cup of coffee, not helping your nervous, exhausted state.

admittedly, you were not doing very well. you felt that your acting was subpar and you felt lonely and isolated on set. while everyone went with their friends for a break or lunch, you sat by yourself in your dressing room, your only company being the silence.

sure, toji was also on set too, but he played a very minor role, so he wasn’t always there. and even when he was sometimes, he would hang out with the other crew members, which wasn’t a problem of course, but it did sting a little when he chose them over you.

you just felt so lonely, anxious and quite frankly upset at yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

there are a few knocks at your dressing room door and you weakly tell them to come in.

toji peeks is head in. “hey, kid. we start in five..” he takes a look at your weary face, dark eye bags prominent even through the makeup the stylists caked on and the frown on your lips and just knows something is wrong.

“are you ‘right?” he asks quietly, like you’re a deer who’s about to run away at the slightest of sounds.

“yes, i’m fine.” you lie, a voice in the back of your mind wishing he’d just ignore you like everyone else on this damn set does.

“‘you sure? ‘cause you don’t look-”

“i said im fine! just get out.” you snap, heart beating and breathing heavily at your own outburst.

fuck. you didn’t mean to say that.

but toji doesn’t look offended. he just nods and walks away footsteps fading as you put your head in your hands and sob.

so there you are, acting in front of the camera with your colleague in a scene where toji appears in too and you just seem off. everyone assumes it’s just not your day today and they’re not exactly wrong. you lines were slightly forced, tired and you were jittery and clearly apprehensive, like you didn’t even want to be here.

“cut!” the director calls out, more than annoyed with your behaviour. it was the sixth take and you’re really trying to make it believable, but it’s futile.

“this is the sixth take _____. this is ridiculous. get your act together. let’s take five.”

you look down at your shoes, face hot and chest thudding with embarrassment due to the director calling you out in front of everybody. tears well up in your eyes and you sigh, blinking them away as everyone starts talking again, walking away leaving you standing there like an idiot.

it all becomes too much for you. your empty stomach, oncoming headache, exhausted body, dry mouth, furrowed eyebrows, sweaty palms-

you let your script fall out of your hand as you stumble off the green screen, trying to get to your room before a hand is grabbing your arm. you turn around and it’s toji again.

“hey..” he leans down slightly to your height, scanning you over once. “you don’t look so good, _____-”

you shrug him off, vision becoming blurred with black static and limbs heavy and shaky. “i-i jus’ need to go. to my..uhm-” you stop, rubbing a hand down your face harshly. “i just-”

and then there is black.

౨ৎ

you come to and realise that you are laying on your dressing room couch, staring up at the ceiling. reaching up, you feel a wet, cool cloth on your head. you take it off. still fuzzy and body essentially lethargic, you try to sit up.

“hey, hey, hey.” toji whispers.

oh, toji’s here.

“take it easy.” he helps you sit up on the arm of the couch. he hands you a bottle of water and you drink it like a god.

“wait, what happened?” you ask, still confused and disoriented.

“you fuckin’ fainted that’s what,” he states bluntly. “scared the fuckin’ dogshit outta me.”

“oh.”

toji sits beside you on a chair, looking at you closely. you look down.

“the med team checked you out.” he tells you. “said you fainted, collapsed-whatever the fuck. ‘cos of stress and exhaustion. they even checked your blood sugar and said it was low as fuck.” he pauses. “not dangerously low,” he adds at the sight of your worried expression, “but.. low enough.”

you sigh, falling back on the couch. you think back to how the director shouted at you, how annoyed he was, and how humiliated you felt. tears start to form again and you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to cry in front of toji. you felt like you’ve had enough embarrassment for today.

toji leans forward. “what’s happening with you?”

the way he said it, so soft and concerned, makes the tears fall down and cause sobs to escape your mouth, hiccuped breaths falling from your mouth.

“hey, hey, hey..” toji coos. he reaches to you and makes you sit up again so he can take you into his arms. you let him, sobbing into his shoulder and sucking up all the comfort he gives you. toji’s big hand strokes your hair and the other caresses your back softly.

“shh, sh, sh…” he calms you down a little, you sobs turning into sniffles. he leans back and gives you space but his hands stay planted on your back. “tell toji what’s wrong.”

you hum sadly, looking down and gulping. “i’m..i’m tired. i wanna sleep..”

toji waits for you to continue. he can see you want to say more so he doesn’t hurry you along, he just rubs your back and nods to let you know you’re listening.

“i..” you take a breath, “i dunno what to do..i can’t do this fucking role.. i’m fucking tired half the fucking day and my so called colleagues don’t even like me!” you try to calm yourself down, taking another shaky breath. “and i just feel..lonely all the time..” you cry out the last few words, feeling another sob session coming up and toji pulls you close, letting you ruin his shirt with your tears as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“it’s okay, it’s okay..” he coos, resting his face in your hair.

you both stay like that for a few moments, you weeps dying down before toji talks.

“you can play this part, _____. ‘you have any idea how good your are, huh? you can act circles around half ‘these guys.”

you scoff, pulling your lips together. “i dunno about that..”

“‘m serious. _____, you can act, okay? ‘wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

“yeah but..this one’s hard..” you sigh, voice cracking but toji doesn’t let you start again.

“yeah, acting’s hard. but i can help you,” toji cups your wet face with his hands, wiping the tear streaks that paint you face, “we can all help you. the crew, your friends, that bitchass director. i’ll put a gun to everyone’s head to make them fuckin’ help you with this.”

you giggle at his seriousness and he huffs, relieved that you’re relaxing a little.

“they don’t hate you, y’know. everybody on set. the cast. they just think you’re a little shy and quiet. they don’t hate you, okay?” toji reassures you. you nod absentmindedly and he shakes your head from side to side to make you pay attention, making you smile, eyes crinkling even though they’re still tear stricken. “there she is..who the fuck could hate you, huh?”

“ugh, toji.” you roll your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your face. you pull away from him. “ugh..i just want my bed right now.”

“yeah..i know it ain’t my place but told the director that you’re taking a few days off. you need a break, kid.”

you didn’t even argue with him. you couldn’t.

“yeah, i do.” you agree.

suddenly, a loud rumble from your stomach erupts, it was like an earthquake.

toji laughs. “someone’s hungry.”

you groan. “‘m starving. haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“we’re getting you something to eat.” he states, leaving no room for objections.

toji stands, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, his large, calloused hand dwarfing yours as he helps you stand up. “can you walk?”

“i will if there’s food involved.”

“that’s good.” toji chuckles, “how’s takeout sound?”

a/n: had to write a whole fic abt this i apologise 🥸 will add the tag list later i just keep forgetting the users </3

[bozers]

Random Mk character headcanons Pt.1 THE MENFOLK

Raiden

Sweaty. Sweats like a mf even when he isn't working. Has to wear undershirts to combat the waterfall coming off him.

Never struggled with anger issues until becoming a champion and getting the amulet.

Secretly a bit freaky. Is down for pretty much anything eye emoji

Reiko

Has a mild ED. Was worse when he was younger, but he's getting better about it. Used to hoard food. Struggles with body dysmorphia due to unrealistic expectations, comparing himself to Shao ( a completely different species...)

Allergic to cats.

Loves the ocean. Dreams of one day owning his own boat to take out sailing whenever he wants.

Kung Lao

Weirdly enough? Introvert. Raiden is one of very few people who doesn't deplete his social battery.

Struggles with bouts of depression. Self medicates with Marijuana.

He is incredibly secure in himself and none of his confidence is an act. That doesn't mean he can't get discouraged sometimes, but he won't try and hide disappointment behind false smiles.

MOAR BELOW vvvvv

Johnny Cage

Struggled with contamination OCD tendencies all his life and coped using substances. His lifestyle is in direct conflict with his illness and it acts like immersion therapy in a way.

Cancer runs in his family so he is vigilant about getting screened once a year.

Life in Hollywood almost crushed him into an apathetic cynic, but somehow, he has managed to stay hopeful if not a bit delusional at times. His hunger for recognition rivaled only by his boundless curiosity.

Smoke

He had a tongue ring for many years and wants to eventually get a tattoo but can't settle on a design.

Can "Slav Squat" and isn't shy about showing off to friends.

Struggles with unhealthy attachment styles.

Rain

Is actually an extrovert. He may think himself above others, but he still requires validation and gets sad if he doesn't get to talk to those close to him.

Iron deficient

If he had never been appointed as High Mage, he would have gone on to teach magic theory at the academy.

Geras

He may be immortal, but that doesn't mean he just sits in a room all day. Geras is endlessly curious, as this is a core part of his very being. Observing and learning new things is both his primary function and an endless font of joy.

He knows how lonely Liu Kang is. Knows that even he can't fill the void left in his masters heart. Time for him is just a function, whereas for Liu Kang, it is and endless road of isolation

Will search up humans in funny situations on the hourglass to watch. It's like his version of FAILARMY.

Liu Kang

Is and has been incredibly lonely for eons. He really thought he would fill the void after reuniting with his old friends, but the feeling isn't the same. They don't know him. Not really.

Once he found a way to connect to his Titan friends, he visits them often. Being able to talk with Lord Raiden again alleviated the strain on his heart tenfold. Reuniting with Kung Lao, (his boy, his bro!!) has also helped give him hope for the next few eons. Same goes for Kitana. (She was the one to find him again after the dust settled.)

His brother is alive in his timeline. Of course they have no relationship, Liu choosing not to intervene due to fears of drawing danger to him. Instead of becoming a shaolin monk, Chan lives happily in the united states as an Ice Road Trucker.

Shang Stung

Has BPD and narcissistic personality disorder. This severely impacted his ability to live peacefully in society and pushed him to grifting. Taking advantage of others was less exhausting than pretending to be a friendly employee to some shopkeeper.

He is half human. Shang's mother traveled to outworld during the last tournament 100 years ago. She was a servant to Liu Kang's champions but ended up running away with a disgraced Edenian.

Doesn't identify as a specific gender, especially after learning shapeshifting. Will often times swap between whatever he feels like that day.

Syzoth

Double jointed and hyper flexible. Shang Stung had to find a way to control him other than shackles, cuz he could always slip out no matter how tight they were.

He is very at ease around children, and falls back into dad mode immediately. Is also a purveyor of terrible dad jokes.

Has Gilberts Syndrome. His species use of bile/acid attacks puts a lot of strain on his liver. Due to his rough living, he didn't get adequate nutrition and now his body struggles to keep balanced out humors.

Only needs to eat once a week, but will happily snack if something tasty comes across his path.

Shao

Has no biological children. Despite his family's standing and pressure to continue the prestigious line, Shao has never taken a wife. Multiple concubines and bastards, but no wife or suitable heirs.

He doesn't view any of the young men and women he mentors as children, just tools. Even though he saw himself in young Reiko, his affection is entirely dependent on his loyalty. Reiko is more of an extension of himself, a way to overcompensate for what he lacks.

Has IBS.

Kuai Liang

He left the Lin Kuei a few years after Tomas was adopted. At odds with his father at the time, he left to go live with their allied clan: the Syrai Ryu. He was born a cryomancer like Bi Han, but chose to pursue pyromancy to distance himself from his lineage. Though able to wield fire, he is still weak to it. When he finally returned home, his father welcomes him back like the prodigal son he was. Bi han deeply, deeply resented this.

Got his tattoo in Hong Kong while he was totally plastered (not a reputable place. They even got the tattoo wrong lol)

Unreadable poker face. DO NOT play cards against this man.

Kenshi

Was forced to drop out of high school to support his family when his older brother was killed, and subsequently got wrapped up in yakuza shit. Has since taken his high school equivalency test (GED) and passed with flying colors

Is addicted to caffeine.

LOVES holidays! Especially Christmas. He may not get all his friends gifts, but the ones he does give are very well thought out and personal.

Bi Han

Doesn't take care of himself or maintain his appearance very well. But he basically won the genetic lottery so it's not that noticeable.

Has a type A personality and is a perfectionist. But he is actually a very gracious person at heart, and will silently shoulder the brunt of responsibility to spare his brothers.

Was happy to mentor Tomas when he first arrived, even though Kuai and Tomas had the stronger friendship. His attitude changed, however, when Tomas choose to stay after Kuai ran off. Instead of seeing the loyalty of Tomas's decision, he saw it as a shallow way to win his fathers favor.

(he couldn't see it was actually jealously. That Kuai could have a choice to leave but he didn't. Tomas had an actual valid reason to want to leave, but he is the one remaining? Bi Han has big feelings and does not process them well )

Quan Chi

Once he started losing his hair, he decided to go bald.

Much prefers to spend his time in the Netherrealm. His dominion there is near absolute, and he would much rather be in the company of those subservient to him. He doesn't see anything wrong with this dynamic, believing this the superior to mutual friendship. (this is laughably hypocritical given his relationship to Shang mf Tsung)

Indulges in all kinds of delicious foods. Sweets, fine drink, rare cuts of meat- the works. Even if he dislikes it, he will eat it anyway just for the sake of it. He made himself ill by eating an entire box of chocolate once.

Havik

Was born in secret to slave parents. They hid him from the government for as long as they could, and so he was able to live a relatively carefree childhood. Other's his age, and of unsanctioned birth, would be seized by the state and put to work as soon as possible.

Fierce passion aside, Havik is very introspective. When not fighting, he often sits in silent contemplation for hours at a time. Before his mind begins to degrade from the blood magic use, he would sit and scrutinize every action he took.

Unlike Quan Chi, Havik cannot bring himself to indulge in luxuries. He feels tremendous guilt given how many of his people are still unable to enjoy even the barest bit of comfort.

He leaves his dick and balls at home for safe keeping.

[shrewsburysworld]

Twisted Hearts | Jeon Jungkook | part 4

Y'all I am changing name of yandere popular guy Jungkook because the story is gonna get more twisted :)

Warning :- mature content, dark themes, dubious, non-consensual elements, delusional behaviour, Stockholm syndrome, physical and emotional elements, obsession and toxic relationship. The behaviour of characters is not something to emulate.

Summary :- Jungkook forces you into a twisted marriage, sparking a dangerous, obsessive love. As your resentment turns into dominance, you both become trapped in a dark, toxic relationship where love and control blur into one.

*This is my original work do not copyright ©*

---

The cold walls of the mansion felt like they were closing in on you. Days blurred together as you tried to find a way out, a way to escape Jungkook's relentless obsession. But every attempt was met with a dead end. He was always one step ahead, his influence and power keeping you in place.

Jungkook’s presence was constant—overwhelming. He would check on you, bring you meals, and sit with you in silence, his eyes never leaving your face. At first, you refused to speak to him, hoping that if you ignored him long enough, he would let you go. But Jungkook was patient, disturbingly so.

One evening, after what felt like weeks of silence, you finally broke. “Why are you doing this?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

Jungkook looked at you, his expression a mix of pain and determination. “Because I love you. I can’t live without you. You’re the only one who ever cared for me. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “This isn’t love, Jungkook. It’s madness. You can’t force someone to love you.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble floor. “You don’t understand now, but you will,” he said, his voice hardening. “I’ll make you see that we belong together.”

As the days passed, Jungkook’s methods grew more drastic. He cut off all your communication with the outside world—no phone, no internet. You were completely isolated, with only him for company. Whenever you resisted or tried to argue, he would lock you in your room for hours, sometimes days, until you were too exhausted to fight back.

One night, you tried to escape. You waited until he was asleep, then quietly slipped out of bed and made your way to the front door. But as soon as you touched the doorknob, the alarms went off. Within seconds, Jungkook was there, his face a mask of anger and hurt.

“You’re trying to leave me again?” he demanded, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

You winced, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. “I just want to be free, Jungkook,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “Please, let me go.”

“Never,” he hissed. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

He dragged you back to the bedroom, his mood swinging between anger and desperation. “Why can’t you just love me?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “What do I have to do to make you stay? Please tell me, yn! Why can't you see my efforts. Am I that unlovable?!” Jungkook said weeping to you. Ofcourse you were there when he was on the ground surrounded by nothing but his own misery. The popular guy who had no one to turn back to when he needed help.

In that moment, something in you shifted. The fear and anger that had been consuming you began to morph into something else—something darker. You were trapped, completely at his mercy. And yet, a small part of you began to understand his desperation. He was lonely, broken in a way that mirrored your own emptiness. And as much as you hated to admit it, you began to feel a twisted connection to him.

The days continued to pass, but your resistance started to fade. You stopped trying to escape, stopped arguing. Instead, you began to talk to him, really talk. Jungkook noticed the change immediately. His touches became softer, his voice gentler. He started to open up to you, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his insecurities.

One evening, after a particularly vulnerable conversation, he reached out and took your hand. “You’re the only one who understands me,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw past the obsession and the madness. You saw a man who was deeply, irreparably damaged—someone who had been failed by everyone around him. And in that moment, you felt something shift inside you again.

“I’m here, Jungkook,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust what he was hearing. “You… you mean that?”

You nodded, a small, resigned smile playing on your lips. “Yes, I do.”

From that night on, something between you changed. Jungkook was no longer just your captor; he became your protector, your only source of comfort in a world that had shrunk down to the walls of his mansion. You began to rely on him, crave his presence. And slowly, the lines between love and captivity blurred.

Jungkook noticed the change in you, and it only fueled his obsession. He showered you with gifts, whispered sweet words in your ear, and held you close every night, as if afraid you might disappear.

One night, as you lay in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, you turned to face him. “Jungkook,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“I… I think I like you,” you admitted, the words tasting foreign on your tongue.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears welling up. “You like me?” he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief and joy.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, I do.”

He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. “I knew you would,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you’d see that we’re meant to be together.”

As he held you, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. The fear, the anger, the resentment—they all melted away, replaced by a deep, abiding connection to the man who had once been your captor. You were no longer trapped—you were his, and in some twisted way, that was exactly where you wanted to be.

---

If you liked the story, do comment and reblog 🫶

Need smut in the next part??!

Twisted Hearts master list.

[jerreeeeeee]

*"understanding" meaning they know they disagree but also understand the other can't be stopped/thinks they're doing the right thing, whether that manifests as avoiding the topic altogether when they meet, or just weary acceptance and frank conversation; and "antagonistic" meaning at least one of them is actively trying to interfere/stop the other/convince the other to stop, in the interaction itself

i see a lot of different interpretations of barry & lucretia's relationship after the voidfish and i've gone back and forth over what i think so i wanted to see what the general consensus is

my thoughts under the cut

i can't imagine barry realizes what's happened and doesn't try to 'reason with' lucretia for a little while, before eventually somewhat accepting that she won't listen to him, because after a certain amount of time, it just gets exhausting to hope he can still sway her. like i don't think he gives up, he still tries sometimes, because he has to, that's his whole life at this point, hoping and trying and not giving up in the face of isolation and despair and impossible odds, but he knows he has to pick his battles. and sometimes they catch each other on bad days and he’s just really fucking glad to see her and really fucking disappointed in her and really fucking tired, unable to muster the conviction or energy to fight with her.

and lucretia doesn't do much trying to convince barry, because she knows she couldn't get him on board with her shield beforehand, and he definitely doesn't approve of what she did to taako and himself, not to mention davenport (if he even knows about davenport, cause that’s gotta be really distressing for him, right? do you think barry ever tries to kidnap davenport).

i think after that initial period, and certainly after the BOB is created, they're both afraid of what the other is up to, afraid the other will disrupt their own plans, and try to avoid the other detecting them altogether. but, they're also both incredibly lonely and know the other is the only person in the world who understands what's at stake and the burdens they're both carrying, so even though they don't seek each other out often, they both want to, and maybe sometimes do. a conversation after lucretia gets out of wonderland is especially compelling.

i don't think they interact between here there be gerblins and reunion tour, though, mostly because i think lucretia just doesn't really leave the moonbase now that the bureau has some wins and is getting closer to its goal, and as soon as she knows barry's messing with the boys, she's too paranoid at whatever barry's plans are that are completely unknown to her and wants to avoid him in case he's come up with a way to really stop her. and barry is equally paranoid about her discovering his information gathering and keeping him from his plans to infiltrate the moon base, so he doesn't want to show back up on her radar. i don't think lucretia confronted barry when he possessed pringles, because barry still puts the instructions on his coin for the old puzzle, but if he'd been caught, i think he would've anticipated it changing, so i think she discovered it after the fact.

i don't know if i even think they've spoken since lucretia created the bureau, because that's when they start to become, like, "enemies," officially, as lucretia genuinely starts to villainize barry, however reluctantly. although, depending on how much contact they'd had before that, depending on if she's aware of him out in the world working against her or if from her pov he just sorta disappeared somewhere mysterious, maybe she's not even really thinking of barry as 'the red robe,' and more thinking of herself. because she does tell thb originally that the red robes are all dead and gone, and if she'd truly anticipated them coming into contact with barry, wouldn't she have said, there's still one out there, he's dangerous, don't talk to him, etc, like she does later? maybe the red robes story was originally just an easy way to explain away why the relics existed, and privately, to hate herself for her role in it. maybe she doesn't even realize she's villainized her old friend until that consequence makes itself clear by accident, and then there's nothing for her to do but lean into it and turn the remnants of their family against him for real.

[iknowicanbutwhy]

by the time one of these sifs FINALLY manages to break the loops these guys are gonna be so exhausted they won't even have the energy to be mad. maybe they'll just form a suicide pact and kill themselves together instead of beating sif up about it idk

Au contraire they start a fighting arena amongst themselves except all of them have been sitting around for so long they're all really bad at it. And when they realize this - having hung around each other for so long they've formed SOME kind of connection - they all collectively decide to chase Sif around Dormont and then it's a game of Manhunt.

...Okay but if i were to take this seriously, it was already really sad to see just one Loop disappear, but a whole lot of them? Suddenly this silly gaggle (nebula? constellation? murder) of stars that kept you company because they wouldn't shut up sometimes and were all too quiet other times disappears entirely? Leaving you all alone to brave the new future?

I love Loop so much because they didn't just feel like another, worse Siffrin. They felt like their own person, worthy of their own happy..ish ever after! It was so, so sad seeing them disappear. The thing about this silly AU is that all the Loops end up feeling like one singular entity in different bodies. And they'll probably stay like that, from the point of view I'm drawing. Because it's a funny AU and I'm drawing it for the funnies.

But to each other, they... Well? They actually feel the same way. Like copies. Like failed copies. Like the same person. Like it's easy to mistake each other and difficult to differentiate each other, even from themselves. Makes it easier to be mean to each other. I'm telling you, even the original Loop isn't entirely sure anymore if they're the original, and it hurts them the most. Pretending to be different people is a massive relief to all of them, because now they feel like individuals (even if they still feel like worse versions of another person). Little Loop is lucky to have always had a physically distinguishing figure, it really changes their perspective and everyone else's perspective on them.

So it's really easy to think they'd just kill each other, these other failed copies, or have gotten so used to the feeling of being "the failed ones" that they simply give up, but you know what I think? I think that, once you take an outside look at yourself and start treating yourself as a fellow human, you can be surprisingly empathetic. Towards yourself, I know! And they have the chance to start doing that.

When I write a story, it's like I'm letting little pieces of myself interact in ways that I can remain both distant from and very connected to. I feel like, when the Loops start playing these characters (these people, but they're ignoring that) they love, being silly and disconnecting from their own grief for a bit, they can have fun together. Like writing a story and smiling to yourself. Like laughing at your own thoughts.

I think maybe they'd get to have a talk, eventually. About how they want this story to end. About how they hope it's not already the end for them, that the worlds or timelines or whatever they came from aren't dead and gone.

Maybe... maybe they'd be really scared. But they wouldn't be "Loop who failed and Siffrin who succeeded," divided firmly by that line. Isolated by that line. I don't know what they would be? But it might feel less. lonely. to know that this Siffrin could just as easily been one of them. And was, many times. The physical evidence is right there, fading away one by one. And for the ones that remain for now, wouldn't you hope they're going home?

[littleholmes]

“Doesn’t that get old?”

“Every human has a unique and fleeting taste which makes devouring them a perfect way to pass time until death.”

It doesn’t surprise me that Sukuna views love as worthless, and it’s something I honestly expect from someone like him, but what he said highlighted something about him that actually did surprise me. Though he’s opting to disregard love, focus on himself and his pleasures and desires, live as his nature as the King of Curses and somewhat bask in the isolation and solitude that comes with being the strongest…his reply to Kashimo implies something that’s kinda sad.

From how it sounds in his statement about humans and passing time, Sukuna is just numbing himself and is just existing but not really living.

He’s doing and chasing whatever, filling up the days with things that somewhat amuse and interest him, chasing those moments of serotonin, but avoiding love and companionship and all those things he views as worthless until he dies. And sure, everyone numbs themselves sometimes, and I’m certain Gojo and other strong sorcerers who did and do love have found ways to cope with the reality of things by numbing themselves and have moments when they’re just doing whatever they need to keep going and just existing but not really living if that makes sense—but there’s moments of joy and happiness and fun and life that find its way back in their lives and allow them to live without just existing, if that makes sense, and it’s because of various forms of love. So there’s something kinda sad about Sukuna just existing without any of that until he dies.

There’s only self-love but none of the other loves (friend, romantic, family, etc) to give him things to look forward to, to give him reasons to do more than just exist, because he finds it worthless. There’s little room for longer moments of joy and happiness and living because a lot of those come with various forms of love and he’s avoiding all of that because it’s worthless to him and he’s just “passing the time” until he dies, which clearly is taking centuries because he’s the King of Curses and at the top of the jujutsu food chain. It just sounds exhausting and lonely.

Sure it matches and supports his nature and has likely served him well all these years, and it’s got to be exhausting to make and remake connections every hundred years and see those you care about die repeatedly when you can just be alone instead and not attach yourself to anyone but yourself but, idk this whole chapter is interesting to me.

Since Sukuna finds love worthless and he’s leaned into this isolation for so long that it’s bordering on serious loneliness, he’s just been doing all of this alone for centuries, and learning to shove everything he can in to feel like he’s living and alive and happy and he’s seemingly doing fine without love and companionship as he’s opting to “pass the time” with blips of fun. And he sounds so certain and comfortable (and almost defensive) in how he’s chosen to live his long life, and how he’s disregarded love, and yeah it’s worked for him. He said he’s never “needed” someone to satisfy him, and I’m sure the King of Curses doesn’t need anyone, but I wonder if there has been times (at least from the way he’s managing his long life without others and the way he explained himself) if he ever just wanted a friend or even just someone who understood (and he got it for a quick second in that fight with Gojo, and we kinda saw how that affected him).

Idk I’m rambling but it’s just interesting that he finds love worthless but sounds like he could really use it (at least one of the other eight forms of it since he’s already got self-love handled) so he can live less of a lonely life instead of just simply existing until his end.

[imagined-rubbermen]

There's a lot that no one ever tells you about acclimating to becoming a rubber drone. Granted, everyone that used the Dronification Kit can't really talk about it, and most of them won't communicate just because their "master" forbids, or something. The lack of needs wasn't hard to get used to, if anything that's a lot of worries off my back. But no breathing? No talking? The lack of bodily functions felt alien. At least I could still see and hear, even if I lacked the body parts to do so. But my hearing and vision was so clear, so crisp, that it was overwhelming. The combined sensory deprivation and amplification was a lot to handle, so I did what usually helps me; I took a walk.

It was raining that night, and the rain kinda helped calm me down. I could differentiate each droplet hitting my new rubber skin, and it drowned out my anxiety. The increased sensitivity was a godsend now, and I savoured it. As I walked, my movements became more simplified, rigid, focused, yet flexible, softer, pliable. I assumed that's my flesh and bone turning into rubber now. The ideas in my mind about how to use my new body made me feel like my blood was pumping, even if I lacked such.

When I got home, I went to the bathroom to dry off. However, the rain made me so smooth, I got a little carried away. I relaxed and felt myself up right on the spot. I rubbed myself all over, my tightly defined chest, my smooth helmet like face, even my crotch. That last one was the biggest surprise, I didn't have anything down there. No shaft, no balls, no anus. There was a weird lock imprint on my bulge, but other than that, I really liked it. I knew I'd love being a featureless rubber drone.

Eventually I felt the sensation of climaxing; the rush, the release, the exhaustion, but I didn't come. After all, I didn't need human anatomy to pleasure myself. The best part? It took almost no time at all for my new rubbery, smooth, elastic body was ready for round two, and I went again, my body squeaking alone on the bathroom floor. After climaxing again, I let myself fall asleep on the bathroom floor.

It's weird now, my life that is. So many people think I have a "master" or an "owner" but instead I'm the master of my life. I'm made of rubber now, and if anyone gives me any issues, they can barely hurt me, while I show them what I can do. Now I have complete control of myself, my emotions, my body, my life. My libido is ready to fire on all cylinders whenever, and I can feel myself for hours sometimes, and can easily stop. I was like a machine, although I kinda am.

Of course, I saw an opportunity, and sometimes sell my "services" to lonely men that need that sexual satisfaction of an object. Of course they know I'm in charge, and getting into a fight with a rubber drone is not something I'd advise (although some of those guys really liked it, so what do I know?). I'll let them play with me. Some guys like to smell and lick me, like how I would play with rubber drones before I became one. Some guys would try to fuck me, although without any orifices, their shafts rubbed against me until they came. A few beat me, which I kinda liked, probably cause my rubber body would bend and twist with ease.

Mainly though I've found myself being kind of a therapist, letting men air out their emotions out. Sure, a few were still in the closet, and few were still a virgin. For those men, I went the extra mile. Of others, they'd just talk. I guess being a gay man can be isolating at times, like how almost no rubber drone I met seems to be independent. Unsurprisingly, being made of rubber meant I was comfortable to hug and cuddle, and in those moments, being a rubber drone is really worth it.

From that, my life is perfect now. The strangest thing is that I don't need clothing anymore. My body is so featureless that I don't feel naked, like my rubber skin is a suit anyways. Even when I do wear clothes I tend to mainly wear plain, oversized clothes, mostly gym stuff. However, sometimes at night I'll walk alone in the nude, just me and the night air. And when it rains like that first night I was a drone, it's so... Perfect...

It's not for everyone, maybe not even you. But if you still want to experience it, I'd suggest a gimp suit first before getting a Dronification Kit. Or if you just wanna find out what a rubber drone is like, I'm $50 hour.

[twst-hottest-takes]

I’m so tired of Malleus stans (and arguably the game) brushing his issues under the rug. He’s not just a lonely guy who’s been isolated by his status and power from his peers who refuse to understand him. Or just some sheltered prince who means well but is a little out of touch and doesn’t fully understand the other races’ norms.

In his dorm vignette, the other dorm leaders get upset about him skipping meetings even after exhausting every reasonable way to get him to attend. His response? Treat them like inanimate objects by teleporting to his location for his convenience. In the second Halloween event, Malleus relates to the ghosts who are sad they missed the Halloween festivities because he also misses many events. His response? Abduct a significant amount of his fellow students into a hostile realm for a party he did not inform them of. And then make everyone else engage in a treasure hunt to find the students. And then he gets mad when he finds out that the others rightfully treated this as a hostile situation and blames them for the possessions that happened to his fellow students. Or how about the multiple instances of Malleus being patronizing towards the non-fae students?

I just find issues with Crown Prince Malleus Draconia constantly being babied for his actions when he should have been taught by now to have a little more self-awareness. He may still be very young for his species of fae, but a crown prince would still be trained to behave in a way befitting of his status. I don’t see any other character (especially among the OBs) get this much defense for misdeeds.

I mean, it's kind of true . . . at least as far as the game is concerned.

Real talk, Malleus can be a cheeky brat sometimes. He gets away with a lot in game and out because of his power, status, and relative immaturity. It's too easy to reason away his actions no matter how inconvenient they are or what problems they cause. The fact that no one has the power to feasibly fight back against his whims (like what's causing most of Chapter 7's current story) makes it pretty frustrating to boot. On top of all that, if the game follows its pattern for how Overblots have been treated so far--and I strongly suspect it will--Malleus isn't even going to be properly punished for causing a potentially world ending catastrophe and putting everyone in danger. He should honestly be expelled from the school at the VERY least!

Don't get me wrong, I love Malleus and enjoy his character greatly, but he's way too powerful to be acting the way he does. In the game it's emphasized repeatedly how stupidly strong he is, and even though I subscribe to the idea of him being not very mature for a fae creature, anon is right that he doesn't seem to get any flack for how badly just his mood shifts affect the world around him. I don't know if it's ever really addressed if his changing the weather when he gets upset is something he can control or not, let alone if he's made any actual strides to be more mindful about how they affect the people around him (despite apparently being told off by Lilia at least once about how much trouble a tantrum can cause).

I can't comment on the state of the fandom defending Malleus' unpleasant behaviors because I haven't seen it myself. However, the game does give anyone who might want to baby him A LOT to work with, so I wouldn't be surprised if anon' observation turned out to be accurate.

Thank you for your take!

[66sharkteeth]

I just wanted to say that even though I'm a mostly silent reader, never really commenting on episodes and rarely interacting on the discord, CoB is by far my absolute favorite comic I've probably ever read. I dont doubt for a second that there are many more out there like me, silently gushing over every new episode and excitedly theorizing with their friends.

Even when CoB reaches its end, I will 100% be sticking around for anything else you make.

thank you. im ngl, there's a big irrationality in me that feels like im only writing this comic for like 15 people sometimes. ik that's completely untrue, but it can really feel like that, especially when i step outside the bubble of webtoon and try to share or talk about the comic anywhere else. i've full on just...stopped posting on instagram, because it's just so defeating and exhausting every time i post. I know there's more than 15 people reading my work, but boy its harder to tell myself that every time I post outside of webtoon. i only continue to post here because i've put no effort into growing this so i don't feel as disappointed when only 20 of my 700k followers on webtoon see it.

ik this completely dismisses my silent followers, which i know there are a lot of, and i'm trying really hard to account for them. but man, it's really hard. and i dont think how lonely the process is helps either. i remember numbers never used to bug me as much when i had a close friend to gush about OCs and ideas with, but now that i just gotta kind of do it all myself and be my own cheerleader with nobody to gush about upcoming stuff to, its doubly defeating when it finally posts and nobody's that excited. i don't know how i can feel so alone when there's a good amount of people who follow me, but the whole thing is an incredibly isolating process and it's just gotten so much worse with declining readership and algorithms doing everything they can to make sure nobody sees my work.

sorry if i veered off a bit, but it's been on my mind lately haha. i appreciate every reader so much, silent and vocal. like no seriously, you guys are literally the only thing keeping me going bc i know we're supposed to "create for ourselves" and stuff, but i think most people at least have a friend or partner that they're gushing about their OCs and stuff with, but i just have you guys lol. so thank you for reading, enjoying, and giving me someone to actually share my creations with.

[my-illness-and-me]

Dear Friend,

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now. It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to live inside a body that won’t let you forget it, even for a moment. Chronic pain is something I don’t talk about often, mostly because it feels invisible to everyone else. I can move through the day, smile through conversations, and still—beneath it all—there's this constant hum, like a shadow that never leaves.

It’s not the kind of pain that screams. That kind of pain gets attention, a solution. No, this pain is quieter. It lingers. Sometimes it feels like an ache in my bones, sometimes a stabbing sensation out of nowhere. There are days it’s almost bearable, like background noise I’ve learned to ignore, and then there are days where it’s all I can hear.

What’s hardest to explain is how exhausting it is. Pain doesn’t just hurt. It drains you. It’s like trying to live your life while carrying something heavy, all the time, with no chance to set it down. And there’s no telling when it will get worse, or better, or stay exactly the same. It makes planning things difficult, even simple things. Sometimes, I cancel plans because I can’t move the way I need to, or I’m so tired from managing the pain that I can’t imagine sitting through a conversation.

I know it can seem like I’m distant or distracted. I don’t want you to think I don’t care or that I’m not present, but honestly, there are times when being in my body takes up so much of my attention, there’s nothing left to give. It’s hard to explain this to people who haven’t experienced it. Pain becomes a part of your life, but not in a way that you can see. If I could show it, like a bruise or a broken bone, maybe it would make more sense.

What makes it harder is the silence. Chronic pain isn’t something people talk about much, and sometimes I feel like if I bring it up, I’m being dramatic or asking for sympathy. But really, I’m just trying to be honest with myself and with you. It’s not about wanting pity. It’s about trying to make sense of this life, to explain why some days I’m not as present, or why I seem like I’m carrying something unseen. Because I am.

I’ve learned to adapt in ways I didn’t think were possible. I’ve learned to listen to my body, to accept that some days will be harder than others. I’ve learned that healing isn’t always a cure, but sometimes just a way of coping better. But it’s also lonely, in a way I didn’t expect. When the world keeps moving around you, and you’re trying to keep up through this fog of pain, it feels isolating.

I want you to know that even if I don’t always talk about it, it’s there. And when I cancel plans or go quiet for a bit, it’s not you—it’s this thing that has become part of my life. I’m doing my best, and some days are better than others. But I appreciate your patience, your understanding, more than I can say.

Thank you for being there, even when I can’t always explain what’s going on inside me.

With love, Aaron

[pomefioredove]

i love ur character analysis posts .. whag do you think of azul . he gets written really ooc sometimes but u nail every character soooo

ALRIGHT. preemptive apology. this gets kind of depressing because I relate to azul on a personal level. I don't think about him as much as I should... so.

azul is driven by fear.

going through something traumatic, like bullying, or abuse, or isolation, or anything, can make you more bitter and resentful towards yourself than that which traumatized you. I have a tendency to blame myself for what other people do to me. not my actions, mind you, not something specific I said or did, but for simply being... me. I think azul works in a similar way. I think he hated himself, hates himself, for just being. and he punishes himself pretty harshly for it.

he's terrified of being the azul who was traumatized. he has this innate desire to kill and bury the him who was hurt, not because he doesn't recognize them, but because he recognizes them too much. he hates them. he resents them. he blames them. he blames himself, and so he punishes himself.

it's misleading. it feels like moving on, but all it really is is repression. and you end up doing a lot of things to yourself that you regret. I went through a pretty extreme version of this after I got away from my abuser. I forced myself to adopt a new personality, I moved, I even had my name legally changed. I also destroyed every single picture of me that I could find. it's coping but it doesn't help, not really, it just feels like running away. it's never enough and you always have this sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach that you will always be that person. weak, helpless, afraid.

living through something that takes your autonomy and shatters your sense of self, such as abuse, or bullying, makes you feel powerless. azul does what he does because he wants control. he wants to feel powerful. he wants to feel safe. he can never, ever be weak again, because he blames own weakness for making him a victim. he does not want to be a victim.

but his need for control ends up isolating him just the same, anyway. he's... sort of friends with the tweels, but not really, and he has no one else at NRC. he was so obsessed with not being at the bottom of the social order that he made his own order, put himself at the top, and is still lonely. he wants to be respected. he wants to be needed. but he doesn't want to be needy, no, he's so mistrustful and refuses to let himself rely on others to the point where he's still... alone.

"azul" becomes more of a brand than a person. everything about him is so meticulously crafted that he can't even breathe without lying. it's just second nature to him at this point. there's still a very scared and very sad child somewhere in him, and he is doing everything in his power to hide them. and it's exhausting to live as if you're always being judged. I think he lacks a sense of self.

he cannot be a victim. that's his whole personality. he refuses to even believe he was a victim. he moves from one extreme to the other, becoming someone who victimizes others, perpetuating the cycle. I think that victims find comfort in being bad people because it makes our trauma feel justified. we can't seem to accept that abuse happens for no reason, so we find new ways to blame ourselves. "I deserved it because I'm a bad person", but you're not, so you start doing bad things to make it feel like you are. it's about control. and it's all a facade.

I like azul. I wish the narrative would go a little further with him and this idea. I think he's a sweetie he just has such a deep-rooted hatred of himself that he's repulsed by the mere idea of letting his guard down.

I don't usually read azul fics so this all might be how people characterize him anyway, idk, I'm going off memory lol

[aurae-rori]

It’s 🦋, I’m back. I have thoughts and opinions and (it ended up being long) broad character analysis! You’ll see what I mean by sounding like a cocky academic in a sec.

—

Dr. Ratio definitely has a lot of elements of gifted kid syndrome. The not being treated like a normal kid, the self deeply intwined with excellence, the being really amazing but never reaching your “full potential,” etc etc.

But the whole idea behind gifted kid syndrome is that those kids eventually burn out or plateau. They lose motivation, or they’ve got unaddressed issues, or they get cocky and stagnate.

Sometimes… Sometimes those kids just don’t. They just don’t stop. Sometimes those kids get continuously moved up to the next level, but every time, it’s not enough of a challenge. Even in adulthood. And these people only get there because they really do care about learning, so it gets really, really exhausting to only hear things like “genius” again and again without actually being taught. At some point you start to wonder if you’re just… at the top already. If you’re the final destination.

If you don’t make an active effort to reach out to people outside that bubble, it’s easy to get caught up in the idea that you’re on a different level. You’re desperate to satisfy an insatiable potential. That’s what the Genius Society is, essentially. People who are labeled geniuses are usually isolated by society, so when they find each other, they come to the conclusion that they’re a unique breed of their own in order to explain how achingly lonely it is with no one to keep up with them.

They aren’t.

That’s why Dr. Ratio is such a good character to me. He’s undergone the same kind of genius-isolation treatment, but instead of separating himself from humanity, he insists on being counted as no different, even if that leaves him mostly alone. And he doesn’t pretend he isn’t intelligent either! He’s not modest, which is very annoying sometimes, but it’s… a lot realer. I mean, isn’t it more disingenuous to have people tell you how genius you are all the time and just pretend not to know you’re smart? He’s not a superior specimen of man, but he’s also not an idiot. He’s a Mundanite.

So in the spirit of being absolutely shameless, I have to say that it feels good to see some actual empathy put into this archetype. Makes me feel less like a crazy person for having the same philosophy and similar struggles.

(Still figuring out an adequate balance of self-confidence and modesty though, the social skills really are the hardest part)

In my opinion, you don't sound like a cocky academic at all. You're explaining your own views on this prospect, and honestly, I really liked reading through this. I agree - Dr. Ratio holds a special place in my heart because he's been isolated due to his intellect, but he still tries to help people and be with them. He still actively expresses his empathy (even if it's in ways that aren't quote on quote, kind) and he does care for others and tries to better their lives and teach them. Self-isolation and isolation from society is absolutely hard to deal with, but seeing him react in that way is honestly really touching and heart-warming. To see a "Gifted Kid" who just kept on going, but who also chose to grow from that experience by choosing to interact with others despite his status.

Once again, really loved reading through this. I believe in you, and I'm glad that you can empathize with others and that you can still connect with others to some level despite going through that. You're doing great, anon. If my words are worth any salt, I'm proud of you for going this far and for trying your best. Please take care of yourself and remember that you're a person outside of your intellect, too. Feel free to drop by again with more takes, because this was really sweet to read and now I have more motivation for my Dr. Ratio angst. :)

[billspotts]

“You are the product of the Venezuelan elite, and you don’t understand the revolution.” A classmate said that to me during my first year of college in Maryland in 2021, during our Nonviolence and Liberation class. These comments, although not new to me, always stung. Each time I heard them, I was reminded that my perspective as a Venezuelan refugee didn’t align with the prevailing narrative in the room. It was as if my lived experiences didn’t matter if they didn’t fit the ideological frame of those around me.

Every day while walking through campus, I passed two posters with images of Chávez—one declaring, “The revolution will not be televised,” and the other “Que siga la revolución.” These posters, plastered on the walls of a liberal arts college in the United States, were a daily reminder of the ideological battles I was fighting alone. Despite my repeated efforts to have them removed, I was told they were protected by free speech and had educational value. While my peers saw them as symbols of resistance or anti-imperialism, I saw them as painful reminders of the suffering my family and I had endured. It became clear that many of the people around me were romanticizing a revolution that, in reality, had brought nothing but hardship to those it was meant to uplift.

I lacked a heavy accent, came from a college-educated, white-collar family, and was enrolled in a private liberal arts college. None of this fits their image of what a refugee is to be. 

To them, I wasn’t a person who had fled political persecution—I was a privileged outsider, speaking from a place of right-wing indoctrination. Every time I tried to share my experiences, my voice was dismissed, often with the suggestion that I had been brainwashed by anti-left propaganda. It was frustrating, especially having personally witnessed the devastation caused by a government that, while promoting the ideals of socialism and revolution, systematically dismantled democratic institutions and plunged millions into poverty.

Another vivid memory from my college days was when a professor casually remarked, “You shouldn’t really complain about the dining hall. Didn’t you grow up without food in Venezuela?” I was left speechless, exhausted from constantly having to explain the complexities behind my homeland’s collapse– complexities often dismissed by the oversimplified argument that U.S. sanctions were responsible for Venezuela’s shortages, migration crisis, and lack of necessities. However, I left Venezuela long before Trump’s 2019 sanctions, having lived through the 2014 crisis when market lines stretched for kilometers, medical supplies were scarce, and corruption was rampant at every level of government. Blaming U.S. policies alone for Venezuela’s downfall overlooked years of internal mismanagement and growing authoritarianism.

I often found myself in a lonely battle—not only educating my peers on the harsh realities on the ground but also challenging professors who romanticized revolution and liberation, views rooted in theory but far removed from lived experience. 

I chose my small college because of its active student organizing and political activism. However, my time at Goucher College was overshadowed by the reality that opinions not immediately aligned with the left or deviating from the narrative that “everything on the left is good” were often dismissed. I spent significant time and energy explaining and defending the reality I had left behind, sometimes making me question my experiences. I was disappointed and further isolated by the lack of openness or willingness to discuss the dictatorship, not just from my American peers but in general. The ideological rigidity I faced in college mirrored the fractured society I had left in Venezuela, where strict political adherence divided families and destroyed friendships. 

This experience extends beyond my college as prominent left-wing figures like Bernie Sanders have hesitated to outright condemn Maduro’s dictatorship while advocating for free elections. This reluctance reflects a broader struggle within left-leaning politicians to confront authoritarianism from ideologically sympathetic regimes. Many hesitate to denounce authoritarian actions within left-wing governments because doing so undermines their narratives of social justice, anti-imperialism, and equality. In Venezuela’s case, Chávez’s Bolivarian Revolution was initially seen as a hopeful alternative to neoliberalism and U.S. interventionism; as Maduro’s oppressive regime intensified, it challenged their belief that left-wing regimes inherently represent the people’s interests, complicating the narrative that right-wing governments are the sole oppressors.

Figures like Sanders, who have built their platforms on anti-imperialism and opposition to the U.S.-backed regime change, fear that taking too firm a position against Maduro could inadvertently lend support to interventions they oppose. 

This has led to a form of rhetorical tightrope walking—where there is a clear condemnation of the lack of democratic processes but a reluctance to call out Maduro’s government in the stark terms applied to other authoritarian regimes.

The Venezuelan crisis is not just about sanctions or foreign intervention; it’s a complex story of corruption, political repression, and economic collapse. And yet, many preferred to see it through the simplistic lens of an American-backed coup, as if Venezuelans themselves are incapable of recognizing the failures of their government. This dismissal of Venezuelans’ capacity to understand and navigate their own political and social realities is yet another manifestation of a form of paternalism that centers the U.S. in a narrative that is not, and should not be, about them. Revealing a deeply ingrained bias, where people from the Global South are viewed as passive actors in their own lives, reliant on external powers, particularly the U.S., to “correct” their course or provide solutions. 

At this new juncture in Venezuelan politics and history, the narrative of foreign interference continues to thrive. Protests organized by Venezuelan expatriates in major U.S. cities, calling attention to the electoral fraud committed by Maduro and his terror campaign as well as demanding recognition of Edmundo González as the rightful president-elect of Venezuela, are often met with American counter-protests. These counter-protesters, echoing Gonzalez ‘s victory a U.S. intervention, hold signs and chant old slogans like “Hands off Venezuela.”  The assumption that Venezuelans need Americans to define their struggles or guide their revolutions is rooted in a condescending worldview that strips them of their agency and dignity. The mass exodus of Venezuelans, now one of the largest migration crises in the Western Hemisphere, stands as a powerful testament to the disillusionment and despair caused by years of authoritarian rule, not external interference. Such narratives fail to acknowledge the intelligence and determination of those who continue to fight for a better future.

For Venezuelans, the reality of living under an authoritarian regime is not about political theory or ideological purity—it’s about survival.

My experiences in college made me steadfast in my resolve. I am Venezuelan; I lived through the horrors of the Chávez and Maduro regimes and I fled to the United States seeking a better life. While I acknowledge the privilege that allowed me to do so, that privilege neither erases nor minimizes my suffering, nor did it shield me from living in fear while in Venezuela. That I survived, along with the mental scars carried by myself and the 8 million Venezuelans in exile, are not up for debate.

It is my belief that when ideological loyalty surpasses empathy, humanity is lost. We cannot let political beliefs blind us to the suffering of others, especially when that suffering is happening so close to home. To dismiss it isn’t just a lack of compassion—it’s willful ignorance. And those who claim to understand “the revolution” better than those who lived through its devastation are not only out of touch—they’re complicit. Blinded by their arrogance, they refuse to see the truth, choosing self-righteousness over justice, and in doing so, they betray the very humanity they claim to defend.

[aleksa-sims]

RL Story

N.'s Mom wanted to sell the house. That’s why she wanted to talk to us. She didn’t need such a big house just for herself and financially it didn’t make sense to stay there. She knew N. and I were looking for a new home for us and our Baby.

She asked us, if we want to move/ live, here in the house? If so, she won’t sell it. After all the house partly belongs to Nico but also to Melanie. For me, this was not an option!! I didn't want to live in this house. I am a city girl. The city's my home! Here, I would be lost and lonely. Nico has to go abroad soon. Sometimes he’s gone for months. I would feel uncomfortable & isolated here with our Baby. I need my family near me. I don't want to be alone. Not here!

Nico’s Dad joined us after a while. Melanie was pissed as usual because her mother wanted to sell the house. But she also did not want to live here and that Nico and I get the house, this she wanted to prevent anyway. 🤨

Melanie really has some serious issues! I’ve never met such an exhausting person like her. But she didn’t argue with me that day! 😶‍🌫️

Anyway, their Dad will buy the house and the money will be split between Nico, his sister and their Mom. This was perfect for Nico and me, because we needed 40,000 euros for the apartment we wanted to buy/rent. We had to pay 60.000. 😬

I talked to my Garma. She wanted to help Nico and me. So she and my Grampa gave us 20 thousand. That's all they had. My parents could not give me money for our new home. We're not rich!! My parents never put money aside for Ana and me, for our future or so. On the contrary! My Mom and Dad were in debt. They took a loan/credit 10 years ago, so that we could move into a nicer, bigger home .My Dad didn’t want this. He & my Mom always had a fight about it, but my Mom prevailed. I wanted to do the same, because Nico was not willing to spend 40,000 euros just like that. But I disagreed. It was about our future, a home for us and our son. If I have to, I’ll go to the bank and ask for a loan. 🤷‍♀️

But Nico said, NO! He’s extremely stubborn and stingy when it comes to his money. Just like my Dad! 😒

N.'s Dad has enough money, as far as I know. And he also wanted to support us financially. But Nico rejected his Dad’s help. He hated him! 🤷‍♀️

Somehow this bothered me. We needed the money and his Dad was willing to give it to us. Besides, Nico could have paid the remaining 40,000 himself. He got money from his new soccer club. They paid him a large sum in the summer and yet, he was too stingy to invest a smal part of that money in our future.😩He wanted us to look for a cheaper home, but the problem was, there was NOTHING!! And if, then the rent was too high!! The apartment I wanted, was new! A complete new building and just prfect! The rent was half cheaper than other rental homes. But that’s why it cost 60,000 Euros. Still, in the long term, this was a good investment. It was a mix of rental and our own property. Anyway, I persuaded Nico and we will buy it. Just....our new home was not finished yet and we could not stay in our current apartment. We had to move out before New Year’s Eve. So we were actually homeless for a some months.😬 But my Mom and Nico’s Mom had a "solution" for us. What exactly this was, I tell another time.

Previous/Next