#i just hate that i get triggered so easily

[stephaniebrownslover]

[Kieran Valentine Backstory Headcanons—Part 1/?]

Timeline: Him becaming a vampire and his first days as one

Okay so I was thinking about Valentine's backstory before everything, and I saw someone saying he was a war veteran (?) but when I searched for it, I couldn't find it anywhere.

So. I kindaaaa designed my own headcanon backstory for him and I swear I wasn't planning to add this much angst. (if I'm not exaggerating, this one is a bit angsty)

Anyways, this is suck and so OOC and I hateeeeee it.

Edit: omggggg why this shit is pure angst I HATE it, I wanted to make hurt/comfort with some cute moments, not hurt/no comfort and this took so that I couldn't add anything nice in it and this sucks:(((

Trigger Warnings: blood, manipulation, mention of death, self-hatred, general vampire themes

Note:

Monster High wiki says this about vampires

It also says this about Valentine

So I like to think he doesn't drink blood, that's why his eyes are pink :3

How he became a vampire

Valentine hated vampires with a burning passion. His father, who was his role model, who he wanted to be just like him when he grew up, died during a brutal attack by a vampire in hunger crisis when he was just 10 years old. Little Valentine, who witnessed this with his own eyes, hated vampires.

Until he turned 17, he began to kill vampires, who stole his life from him, by his own capabilites. Although he was still very young, he was hunting vampires without caring about what would happen to himself, thanks to his heart burning with hatred.

Of course, he wasn't as good at this as an adult, he couldn't even get close, but back then, Valentine's name was easily heard at the vampire council, since no one dared to do what would happen to them after killing a vampire. Most people didn't know the existince of vampires, and the ones who knee, were feared of them.

Stoker, who was assigned to take care of this business personally, decided to pay a visit to this novice hunter.

Completely headcanon: In order for a person to turn into a vampire, vampire blood must be mixed with their own blood.

There was a fight that lasted quite a short time, in which Valentine was deadly wounded. Stoker dropped his guard when he was about to suck the blood of Valentine, who was on the verge of death. Stoker had underestimated Valentine's hate too much.

Stoker's blood dripped on Valentine, who stabbed his sword into him just as the vampire's teeth were about to touch his neck. And Valentine, who does not know how people turn into vampires, was unaware that the vampire blood smeared on his open wounds would change his life forever.

He had turned into something he hated. He had become a terrible monster that he would have preferred to die a thousand times rather than to live as one.

He hated himself. He hated that his wounds healed so quickly, he hated some of his teeth fell out and new ones came out instead, he hated that his vision was getting better and better. He hated, hated, hated it.

But more importantly, he was afraid of himself.

Valentine, who started sobbing, did not know what to do. He was frozen. He had reached his hands to his teeth, trying to make sense of what was happening. But he couldn't even think of anything.

Valentine, who accidentally turned into a vampire, did not know what to do, he was in such a scared state that Stoker decided to show mercy for the first time in the hundreds of years he has lived and will live. The main reason for this was that he was quite impressed by Valentine's stubbornness.

However, of course, the older vampire would not deign to be nice to someone who did not have his own interests for no reason.

Stoker had agreed to take the young one between his poisoned arms in order to make him his henchman, who was charged with doing his own work. And there was no need for the boy who was standing in front of Stoker's, and disgusted with himself to know about it.

When Stoker bent down and held out his hand to him, Valentine looked at the gloved hand that was standing in front of him in tears. He did not know what he was supposed to do. He didn't know what was the right decision. Time had stopped for him, and it would never flow the same way again. At least, for him.

Stoker said a few sentences to convince him. But when he saw that Valentine was still looking at him with the same confused and undecided gaze, he was sure what he should say.

He told Valentine that he no longer had a place among people. He talked about how everyone would mention Valentine's name with pure hatred and not daring to approach him out of fear.

And he didn't forget to add that no matter how hard Valentine tried, he would always be subject to prejudice. The person who told him this was Stoker himself. Valentine could never be a part of society again.

As the tears that were slowly flowing from Valentine's eyes accelerated, Stoker knew that he had put his finger on the right point. He also talked about how Valentine didn't have to live like this.

If Valentine came with Stoker, he would be accepted among other vampires. No one would judge hin and hate him just because he was a strong creature. He would be free. And more importantly, he could be himself without being exposed to fearful eyes.

Valentine took the hand extended to him. And as he walked slowly towards Stoker's vehicle ahead, he left his old life behind along with his soul.

It was not going to be easy for him to adjust to his new life. He didn't know what kind of life awaited him when he got into a luxury car that he had never even dreamed of before.

At least he wasn't crying anymore, instead, hhe was just watching out of the window with curious eyes that they hadn't managed to take away from him. He was surprisingly calm as he watched his house, which he could never return to, disappear from sight every second.

The inside of the car was quiet, too quiet. The vampire, who had radically changed Valentine's life, gave his attention only to the book in his hand. Although he seemed to be paying no attention to his surroundings, Valentine knew Stoker could prevent him from making the slightest escape move. Valentine knew this because he could do the same thing himself now. His reflexes were highly developed compared to before.

When he entered the Council building for the first time, he felt some vampires' contemptuous, some vampires' curious, and others' only pity-filled stares on him. For the first time in his life, he had become the very centre of attention and strangely, he liked this.

Stoker took him to a room, and then said he could stay here until he was done and then they could go home.

So, Valentine did as what he was told until he learned every little detail in the room. And when there was nothing left that interested him, he decided to tour the council building.

He didn't expect to see the vampire who brought him here just as he opened the door. When they got into the car again, there was silence again, but this time it was the kind of silence that was uncomfortable for any type of creature.

Valentine had given all his attention to the road, which he could still see even though it was quite dark. That's why what Stoker said caught him off guard.

They also turned his mother into a vampire. Vampires cared about traditions, and being connected to each other was one of those traditions. Besides, their population had already decreased quite a lot and they needed new nobles. Of course, they couldn't make everyone they see a vampire, but they could turn a vampire's close family member who was still alive.

Valentine said nothing, he only blamed himself. His mother's life had been ruined by his own stupid stubbornness. Ruining the lives of everyone who was near him was probably the only thing he was good at.

They didn't speak at all the rest of the way.

Learning how to get fed

When Valentine first arrived, he was bombarded with intense teaching sessions. Vampires were noble and elegant creatures, so it was more important than anything that he received a proper education.

Fortunately, thanks to his sharp intelligence, he was able to understand his lessons quickly. In fact, he was learning so fast that if he continued like this, he might even go to the Vampire Academy next year.

Meanwhile, things weren't that decent between him and his mother. It wasn't good, but at least it wasn't bad. His mother wasn't angry at him or anything, she even thanked him for saving her life.

There was just something that Valentine couldn't quite put his finger on it. She was distant. She was cold, and it was as if she wasn't there even when she was with him. What had happened to his old loving mother?

His skin was cold. His skin was as cold as a dead person's and his heart wasn't beating. He couldn't see himself in the mirror. He couldn't even go out into the sunlight without taking the necessary precautions. And he didn't like it at all.

He could have been richer than ever before, he could have had more books than he would ever get in his whole life despite his dreams, and he could have even gotten a great education, but it was all just a sweet illusion.

Still, he thought that if he kept acting, one day all this wouldn't hurt so much anymore. If he never took off the mask on his face, he could forget who he was and integrate with the mask. That's what he should have done anyway, just like his mother.

He easily adopted the aristocratic clothing style of that period. The only thing that made him feel like the person he was was his clothes, which were extravagantly stylish and perfectly groomed. Moreover, many vampires also liked the style he had. He could even communicate with them if he felt ready. At least, this could have helped him feel like he belonged somewhere a few years earlier.

After about a month had passed, everything had started to go well for him. He felt that he was getting used to being a vampire, and he was scared crazy about it. But he was learning to drown his fears.

Gradually, he also began to get rid of his timid and helpless personality. He knew he was not the weak boy he had been the day he first came to Stoker's castle. He was trying to learn something new whenever he had the opportunity. He had a really curious personality, the kind of curiosity that would put him in danger.

He might have started acting like a vampire, but there was one thing he could never do. Valentine refused to drink blood.

Strangely, he believed that if he started drinking blood, he would never be himself again. And since that's what he really wanted anyway, he should have been able to drink blood. He didn't realize that he was lying to himself.

(it's a ridiculous headcanon because I don't exactly know how emotional vampires born)

Valentine, unlike his mother, had become an emotional vampire. Stoker attributed the reason for this to the intense emotions he felt before and after becoming a vampire.

Because he hadn't been fed in any way for the last month since he arrived, or used anything to support his iron needs, he had started to lose strength more and more.

He had huge eyebags that were growing day by day, his skin had taken on a too pale tone even for a vampire. He couldn't use his powers, he couldn't go out in the sun despite all the precauiton items he used. He felt so tired most of the time.

He was desperate, he felt weaker than ever, and he never once thought about drinking blood. However, since he was an emotional vampire, what he really needed were emotions. Blood would only give him energy. If he wanted to be strong, he had to feed on emotions.

In fact, Valentine didn't actually make up the information that he had to break a heart to be strong on his own. The person who told him this was Stoker himself.

Valentine's refusal to drink blood in defiance of vampire traditions was getting on Stoker's nerves. And that's why he believed that if he led Valentine to a rather difficult way of eating, he would have no choice but to drink blood. He also used hatred because it was the most intense emotion that the young vampire felt.

According to Stoker, Valentine was a vampire who fed on hatred because of his previous life, and he needed people's hate to be strong.

Valentine, who was still very new to it and was suffering from a lack of strength caused by not eating anything, asked how to do it. He had been hungry for so long that he no longer cared about opposing his own personality as long as no blood included.

Stoker said the first thing that came to his mind, who could be more hateful than a girl whose heart was broken into a thousand pieces by her darling love?

And Valentine believed it. Moreover, for hundreds of years, he continued because no one even cared to offer him another option.

After the first heart he broke, he gained the ability of hypnosis thanks to his vampire powers. It was actually quite an ironic situation. He had acquired the ability to make people love him by making them hate himself.

When Stoker saw that despite all the hearts he had broken, the stubborn vampire still insisted on not drinking blood. That's why he gave up on his goal.

He was looking with disgust at the iron supporters who entered his castle for the first time because of Valentine. Although feeding on emotions restored Valentine's strength, he still needed more blood or iron supporters for some features, such as being able to go out in the sun.

After Valentine learned to eat, he had only one thing left in front of him; getting used to his new life.

And Valentine still hated vampires with passion.

..................................................................................

Bro listens Malice Mizer because I say so(I'll say this in my every Valentine writing)

SOMEONE TAKE THE WORDS AWAY FROM ME WHY DID I WRITE THIS I HATE MYSELF I WASN'T PLANNING TO MAKE HIM SO SO MISERABLE I'M SO SORRY THAT WASN'T MY INTENTION

I KNOW THIS WHOLE POST SUCKS SO HARD I KNOW AND I'M SORRY FOR STEALING YOUR TIME

I'M SORRYYYYYY I SWEAR I'LL MAKE HIM HAPPY ONE DAY IF I WON'T STOP WRITING FOR HIM AFTER THIS

I kinda want to write him with Spelldon to make this up but I know nothing about Greek Mythology, not even the basics so it would be really weird lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

Note: happy weekend.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, how’d you get in?” Peter rushes in, a tray of drinks in hand. 

You pop up on the stool, broken from your trance. Uncertain what else to do, you spent much of your time trying to distract yourself with his schematics. You twist to face him. 

“Um, Bucky,” you answer and cringe at home dumb you sound. “He helped.” 

“Bucky? Helpful?” He nears and puts the cardboard tray on the table, “I guess he can be.” He picks at the edge of the tray, “I got you a blueberry matcha. The place I hit didn’t have strawberry in season anymore.” 

“Oh, sounds... interesting, but you--” 

“Didn’t have to. I know, you always say so but I felt bad for being so late. I told may to get an airtag for her wallet. She can be so--” he stops himself and chuckles. “It’s whatever. She’s got a lot going on.” 

“Mhm,” you accept the cup he offers. “I was just looking over the plans. I think we could probably just go with yours. Makes more sense.” 

“What? Oh, no way,” he takes his iced whatever. It just looks like layers of sugar and cream. “I think we could easily bring together both. Take some of your features and mine. I don’t want to take over.” 

“Yeah, but...” 

“But nothing. Really. It’s a team project, not my project,” he insists as he hops up on the stool next to you, “so,” he swipes his hand in the air and a holographic screen appears. You flinch. “Let’s compare and redraw.” 

You gape as another floating rectangle appears before him. No wonder his look so much better than your Paint hack job. You want to sink down and disappear. You always figured you’re not interesting enough to be his friend but now you’re certain you might be too stupid and poor for him too. 

“So, I’m going to get logged in...” he mutters. 

“Um, Peter?” You murmur, “are you sure you wanna be my partner?” 

“Why... wouldn’t I?” He hovers his hand before the screen as he looks at you. 

“I dunno. I don’t... I don’t have much to offer. Not a lab, not all these cool computers...” 

“Oh this? No, it’s not—it's not a big deal. Dude, I'm so lucky Mr. Stark is letting me use this. I’m not ignorant, you know? I just thought it would be easier. I don’t think your roommates like me much and mine are so loud.” he explains as he lowers his arm, crossing both over the table as he leans on it. “Do you not want to be my partner?” 

“Nnnooo,” you drag the word out. “No, I do, but I want to contribute to and I don’t know how to use any of this.” 

“That’s cool. I’ll show you.” 

“Um, okay,” you nibble your lip sheepishly. “I guess...” 

“Did you try the tea? Is it good?” He changes the subject. He does that a lot. Pivots around before you can finish your thoughts. 

“Not yet,” you look down at the bright pink lid, “where did you get this?” 

“Some place called Berry? I don’t know. Everything was bright. You’d hate it,” he laughs again. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as you blow into the lid cautiously. “Before I forget, I’m having a party. I know it’s not really your thing but it’s ‘my turn’,” he makes quotations with his fingers, “and I don’t really wanna but I also thought I'd invite you in case you wanted to not be there with me, too.” 

Your blink in surprise, “a party?” 

“I know, too much. Well, I didn’t wanna leave you out.” 

“Mmm,” you drone nervously. It is really nice of him to think of you and after everything else, you hate to say no. “No one ever invited me to a party.” 

“No?” His brow furrows, “really?” 

You shake your head, “I’ll come. Yeah. I’ll try. You know, it’s college and ...” you take a sip and clear your throat, “should I bring a dessert?” 

He laughs and gives you a playful grudge, “wow, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone ask me that except my aunt’s friends. Nope, you can just come as you are. You can always bring some drinks for yourself but I’ll have more than enough to share.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nod. 

“The tea good?” He asks again. 

“Yeah, sweet,” you put the cup down. 

“Awesome!” He grins. “I really didn’t think you’d come. I’m so excited.” 

“Really?” You ask. 

“Well, duh. You’re so fucking cool. Like all my other friends, they try so hard. It’s all ‘let’s go do shots’ or ‘watch me do this dumb shit’. You don’t even try, you’re just you. It’s like people don’t realize they can just be nice and be cool for just that.” 

“I... yeah,” you don’t know what to say.  

It’s like he’s calling you boring but not. You know you are and you don’t mind but you can’t ever remember when you just felt like everyone else. Where you weren’t the odd one out. Despite trying to include you, Peter still manages to push you to the edges. 

You wince as you notice how he stares at you. You fidget and pick at the button on the front of your corduroy skirt. His eyes flick down to the nervous movement. 

“I like that,” he reaches to touch the ridged fabric, “blue. Oh, thick.” 

Your leg twitches in surprise, “uh, yeah... found it at the student thrift shop.” 

“Really?” His fingers brush over the hem and touch your coloured tights. They linger for a moment before he pulls away. “Cute. I’ve never been there.” 

“It’s not bad...” you cross your legs as you knee tingles from his touch. That was strange. 

“Well, anyway,” he waggles his fingers as he turns back to the table, “uh, where was I?” He squints at the screens and taps in the air. He pauses and looks at you. “Here, I’ll show you how it work, alright?”  

He reaches over again and you brace yourself. He grabs the underside of the stool seat and drags you closer. He it so easily, you gasp. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. He slides his hand around so his arm is diagonal around your back. 

“Right, so...” his shoulder presses to you as he points with his other arm, “you can just use your finger. I’ll have to add your prints to the program. Put your hands up.” 

You obey as he stays close. You’re overly away of it. The way he’s pressed to you. He doesn’t seem to notice at all. You try not to think of it and focus on his instructions. The project. That’s why you’re here. 

[sensitivegoblin]

Stupid period vent

If youre a cis man; kiss a uterous haver on the forehead today

Cus fuck this feels like a mental parasite

[vaugarde]

i wonder if age plays a part in chatot bashing tbh. bc im realizing that as i've grown up, i appreciate the nuances of chatot's character more and more and recognize that he's basically a guy who desperately needs a vacation to unwind. meanwhile i also hate watchog more and more as i age

[ungalobrando]

Debating if I should change my aesthetic to MTL or if that would set me off again

[allofuswantgwinam]

i really never expected to be here by myself and without this man that really has unfortunately affected me in a terrible way. it’s honestly weird. the feelings come randomly and i just went through some of our old messages and it’s just crazy. not dwelling on things it’s just so fucked up lol that’s part of my issue with my confidence in anything which is annoying. it’s not even always about me thinking I’m ugly and stuff, it’s like… should I take a chance on them?? and risk getting ducking destroyed and losing myself when I could just be alone and safe? it’s fucked.

[invinciblerodent]

This MUST be a silly question, but I can't find any information on it so I gotta ask- am I right in assuming that the phrase "very easily convinced by avatar" in the approval bar tooltip SHOULD mean that having high approval would make the DC on persuasion checks against that character go down?

Because it SOUNDS like that's what it's implying, but if it actually did that, someone probably would have mentioned something about it by now?

If it's not that, then what DOES it mean??? How much does approval ACTUALLY affect the gameplay???

[variablejabberwocky]

...i have learned more about the batman canon/dc universe against my will and i think i get it now

i think i get why everyone is angry

because right now?

right now i'm furious

[johnbly]

hello darkness my old friend (wondering when an “old” expensive piece of technology of mine is going to bite the dust)

[salstini]

sibling trauma is so fucking real

[piplupod]

thank god i don't have to have my camera on for this class very often bc i am absolutely fuming and literally tearing up bc i am so upset and angry at these education resources for this stupid fucking class, it's about "self management" and "office etiquette" and theyre just so fucking shitty and stupid and awful. like. really fucking ableist and i know that's obvious but jesus christ. it's all such bullshit. i hate offices so much.

[sensitivegoblin]

Vent

Tw sewerslide self harm

[therewithinthestars]

.

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dom!sylus x female reader. smut, pwp. gun play. degrading. cowgirl position. power trip. hunter - prey-ish? reader gets called ‘sweetie, kitten, sweet girl, slut.’ not proof read !

“careful, sweetie,” sylus’ husky voice rings in your ear. your hand trembles as you hold onto the large hand that’s pointing a gun right at your chest. you’re sweating—not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

the scene was a familiar one. you’ve been in this position before - on his lap - with a gun involved. yet this time you’re both so intimately connected; your clothes scattered around the velvet chair, your hips trembling as you ride him. the same man you swore you hated.

“it’s quite funny, no?” sylus inquires, unable to hold back a grunt when you stare at him with such a drunken look in your eyes. you’re drunk on the adrenaline, the barrel of the loaded gun pressed against your flesh. a hint of a smirk tugs at his lips, “how the tables have turned.”

your hips don’t stop moving. you pull them up and push them back down, the back and forth rhythm not to be missed as well. he fills you up too well—his pink tip prodding at your sweet spot with precision. it doesn’t help your case at all. especially when you’re whimpering and moaning about how good it feels.

it’s you who’s supposed to hold that gun up to his chest. that’s how it went last time, but alas. this is your second failed attempt to show your dominance over him, onychinus’ leader.

“it’s also quite pathetic to see you give in so easily to me, kitten,” sylus continues, teasing and belittling you. he presses the barrel right above your heart, his finger right on top of the trigger. your breath hitches and yet you can’t help yourself—your body seeks the pleasure by itself. he scoffs, “so desperate. is it that good? does it feel that good to have me all the way inside you?”

you shiver at his words. you can’t respond when you’re busy moaning the name of the silver haired man. he’s so big, you’re absolutely cock drunk on him. you don’t want to admit it. you refuse to, though the answer to his question is still as clear as day.

“sh-shut up,” you try to retort through a choked up moan. the lewd noises of your wetness swallowing him up to the base repeatedly, with each thrust, echoes through the room. it’s not like sylus can deny the fact that it turns him on to see you like this neither; he’s rock hard.

sylus shakes his head with a low chuckle. “you seem to have forgotten that you don’t have the upper hand right now,” he sighs, the metal of the gun gliding up your skin to your chin, tilting your head back. your eyes widen and your hand squeezes his larger one that held the gun.

he bites back a groan when your sloppy cunt tightens up around him instinctively, “do you need me to remind me of your place, sweetie?”

“or do you simply like putting yourself in harm’s way?” sylus adds, his free hand guiding your hips in a strangely gentle manner, just so his fat cock could hit all the right spots. “either is fine by me. i love to tame disobedient prey like you.”

he leans his head back and his red eyes roam over your body. your skin is glimmering with sweat, the dim light in the room giving it a soft glow. his gaze stops at your bouncing tits for a second before returning to your face.

“i—i just want..” you stammer through whimpers. you can barely think, your thoughts are an absolute mess. you don’t know if you should fear the fact that your life is being played with while you’re in such a compromising position, or if you should just enjoy the addicting sensations the situation brings along.

sylus encourages you to keep on talking by tapping the barrel of his gun beneath your chin again, his right eye faintly glowing a brighter red. you gulp as you bounce on his dick. you know your inner desires and needs have already been exposed to sylus—he probably knows what you need, yet he’ll still make you say it to him directly.

“i just.. need you,” you finally manage to form a proper sentence. you’re unable to take your words back. you don’t care at the moment; you’re focused on chasing that sweet high.

sylus’s long fingers tighten their grip around your hip. he closes his eyes for a second to recompose himself before opening them again. “who knew you’d be such a needy slut,” he mutters underneath his breath, trying to keep calm when you admitted to needing him in such a whiny tone.

“need me, hm?” sylus grins as he finally got you to be vocal about your true needs. “need me to fill you up that bad? to pound you brainless? to have you submit to me while i show this slutty cunt of yours what it’s like to have me fucking it?”

the words fall off his tongue with such ease. the sudden dirty talk and change in tone makes your stomach do flips. his free hand reaches up to tug your hair back harshly while he whispers that in your ear.

“yes, fuck—yes, need it so bad,” you nod mindlessly. you don’t care about anything as you’re riding him. you’re willingly handing your destiny over to sylus—which drives him insane. the thrill of having that power over you makes his finger tremble on the trigger. the power trip is messing with his brain.

his eyes darken for a few seconds while he regains his composure. he can’t wait to flip you over and have his way with you.

sylus grins before kissing your ear and neck, bucking his hips up to hear you mewl from pleasure. he pulls away from your skin to look at you with his signature smirk, teasing you once more, “then, who am i to deny my sweet girl?”

[how-gross]

July 25, 2023 — 7:01pm

Rlly wanna tell my therapist how for the past year and maybe the years before that, I have not felt actually happy even when doing exciting, fun stuff with my friends and family. Like I feel like I don’t feel actually alive, not at all, instead I feel as though I’m just going through the motions, not genuinely expediting anything with hope or joy but just the feeling that I have to.

Like, during those times, such as my trip to Puerto Rico, or my trip last year to Schlitterbahn Water Park, the little hangouts I would go to with my friends or when I hang out with my friends— It actually feels like I don’t feel anything, and it feels like I’m faking my happiness.

And it’s not just that but I feel as though nobody will ever truly and genuinely try to help me, it just feels as though they would only help me to benefit themselves and they don’t actually care about me. It’s hard for me to believe anyone actually cares about me. It feels like can’t trust anyone to truly be there for me, I can’t believe anyone when they say they’re there for me and they truly care for me without believing they have ulterior motives. I can’t cry to my mom about these things because she’ll think I’m different from her perfect little girl and she’ll think I have to go to a mental hospital (at this point who knows) and the most she’ll do to help is claim I need to pray to God and ask him to take it away, and my dad won’t do shit because he’s a deadbeat asshat who complains when I ask him to help with school (even though he barely does anything; which is why I don’t ask him for stuff).

But don’t know how to explain that to her without her thinking I’m faking or thinking it’s extreme enough to send me to a mental hospital— idk man I’m scared.

[aro-aura]

i always thought romantic love was the plague and i was a plague doctor.

so here's an aro-colored plague doctor

me oversharing beneath the cut about how amatonormativity has screwed me up in ways I have never been screwed up before.

(rant beneath the cut is full of negativity, triggering, but perhaps relatable. idk. read at your own risk)

okay so let's have a mini story telling time about how romance plagued every aspect of my life until now.

My bestfriend in high school treated me of less value after she gets her boyfriend. This experience was what drove me into drawing plague doctors during valentines. These doodles were captioned with "Plague is in the air", because my friends in my circle told me to not hang out with her on that day because it's valentines day. So cool, I thought I should avoid them like they were the plague.

For the first half of college, I've been a wingman for way too many of my friends for my only female and best friend.

It has gotten to a point where the meaning of my companionship with my male friends had become solely for providing a connection to a girl they want to date.

In the long run, my bestfriend, who my 'friends' were pining for, actually has been pining for me. She asked if we could be a thing, I said yes because I thought that, romance isn't probably as disgusting as I think of it.

To protect tradition and to protect the feelings of the men she rejected (who I also wingmanned), we kept it hidden.

For the entire time, she emphasized how I was dense and oblivious about romance. For the entire time I was confused, disoriented, and even repulsed. I didn't know how to reciprocate and I certainly did not have THOSE feelings either at all.

Of course it didn't end well.

After that failed attempt at romance, I have been involved in three more encounters after that. Men suddenly started talking to me out of nowhere. Initially, I thought that they were just trying to make new friends. I didn't realize they were hitting on me but when I did, I cold-shouldered them out of my life.

The last one was the most traumatic. I have explicitly stated that he shouldn't attempt to romance me because I've admitted that I'm way too tired of dealing with it, but he was stubborn. He has also gone as far as sexualizing me against my will.

So yeah.

Amatonormativity made me lose faith in the meaning of my friendships.

It made me realize how friendship is easily overshadowed by romantic relationships.

It made me worry that my kindness is misread as a romantic gesture.

It made me constantly hate how friendship is only seen as a stepping stone for a romantic relationship.

And because amatonormativity has rendered all my significant connections meaningless, I'll spend every second of my life hating amatonormativity. I will always be repulsed at the concept that destroyed every goddamned friendship that I had. Nothing has ever made me feel THS sick. I will always think of it as the plague.