black-streak
Black-Streak
He/Him, They/Them
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me, your friendly neighborhood villain apologist: zuko was never evil he was just 16
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You know one of the shittiest parts of chronic pain?
Sympathy has an expiration date.
If you’re hurting because you broke your leg, people can sympathize with you, because there’s an end-date. Eventually your leg will heal and you’ll be okay again. People will coo and coddle and bring you chocolates and sign your cast because they know that’s emotional labor that they will only have to perform temporarily.
But if you have a chronic condition that causes you daily pain, after awhile, people get annoyed with having to deal with you. They ask you what’s wrong, and when you reply with the same thing that was wrong last week, or the week before, or the month before, you eventually get an incredulous, “Still?”
Or maybe they’re not that overt. Maybe instead they go, “Oh, just that. Okay.” As if today’s pain should somehow be fine for them to ignore because it’s nothing new. No need to worry: it’s just the same old same old.
Let me tell you: Pain never gets easy to handle. It’s not like people with chronic pain develop an immunity to it, or that we stop feeling it. Sure, some of us get better at ignoring it, or better at living around it, but honestly? Most of us just get better at hiding it, because we get tired of feeling like an emotional burden to everyone around us.
But that doesn’t mean that we’re not hurting, and it sort of sucks that long-term pain, in addition to all the other fun things it entails, also eventually comes with a revoked right to be sympathized with, or even just treated like something other than a whiny attention-grabbing faker (or worse: a drug-seeker).
Chronic pain is real. And it sucks. And one of the worst parts about it is knowing it’s never going to end.
It would just be cool if people could try understand that, I guess.
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tumblr is the root of half the internets trends and memes
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aro ppl out here helping to redefine Western ideas of affection and I'm so here for it like hand holding? cuddling? leaning on each other? sitting in someone's lap? dude we're in Friend Territory™ now
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opening up my own fanfiction document on my personal laptop to see if the author has updated it yet
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"autistic asexual people exist so its not inherently ableist to headcanon autistic characters as ace" and "autistic people are constantly infantilized and headcanoning all autistic characters as ace can perpetuate that" are thoughts that can and should coexist
allistics and allos can reblog but dont start making a fool of yourself
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reblog if you fully and intentionally are referring to aspec people as well when you use the word queer to refer to the community
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I truly love how queer can mean "Eh I'm some flavour of Not-Cishet but I don't care to know the specifics beyond that" but also "I absolutely do know the specifics but we will be here all damn day if we get into it" and like. Everything in between. I think that's incredibly powerful of us tbh.
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thoughts on the friendzone
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time. one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention. i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes. there’s no room for nice guys like me.”
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. being friendly. i thought we were friends. but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me. he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.
“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”
they were
“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. that he just wanted her for a relationship. a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
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Waiting for the Worms has been edited and cross-posted to my A03 for those who've been asking for it the last two years. Oops.
Here's the link:
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Oh, that's what's happening....
One of the worst feelings is when you feel a hyperfixiation slipping.. Like no.. Youre so sexy pls keep giving me happy chemical
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Reblog if you've ever read a fic that was better than published books
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Mina: *on her period* ah i hate everything
Kirishima: do you want your monster?
Mina: yeah :(
Kirishima: okay *hands her the drink*
Mina: thank yooouuu
Mina:
Mina: we gucci <3
Kirishima: No we’re chanel, there’s a difference
Kirishima: we’re.. we’re...
Mina: we’re mentally disturbed :)
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