#i was trying different ways of going about it. first just to get myself out of there. then on 1 loop i leaned hard into the cult & ended up

[arowitharrows]

people keep generally agreeing (?) with this post only to double down on the 'not doing anything' phrase and like, if you want to continue using this sentiment then sure, I'm not stopping you. But I personally won't stand behind it and my first assumption will be that people using it have not fully deconstructed and understood the mechanisms of queerphobia and/or do not understand asexuality and aromanticism.

In the past years, and especially with a focus on queer infighting and "discourse", it has become very clear to me how important it is to understand the reasons behind people's prejudice against certain minority groups. Everyone knows that queerphobia exists, but I find it helpful to ask myself, do I know why it exists? Do I know which fundamental beliefs drive people's hatred? Do I know how these beliefs differ between, e.g. the political far right, conservative christians, or my grandmother who grew up in the 40s? It is so important to consider these things, both in determining how to address the problem of queerphobia in the current context and to avoid pointless discourse about who does or doesn't face discrimination in our society.

So, in the context of this post, I need aspec people to understand that no matter how hard you cling to "we aren't even doing anything", it's not going to save you. Sure, people hate queer sex a lot, and maybe you aren't having queer sex. But it is vital to understand that, usually, their core belief isn't that no one should have sex ever, it's that people should have sex in a specific controlled context - e.g. married, heterosexual, sex for procreation, romantic sex - and they will not be happy with you if you don't comply. Choosing to never have sex is expressing bodily autonomy that they do not want you to have. And if you are clinging to this phrase because of a general feeling of "I'm just living my live, why would anyone hate me for existing?" then yeah, I get that, I really do. But don't forget that that's true for every single queer orientation out there.

Also on that note, I need people to not erase aromanticism from this discussion. If we are talking about aphobia then that includes aromantic people and it includes aromantic people who aren't asexual. It includes the way people react to aromantic people having sex without being romantically attracted to their partners. I feel like often times when people say they don't understand aphobia, and when they try to explain/justify this stance, it's only in the context of "not having sex" and aromanticism is somehow forgotten.

tbh I really dislike how aphobia tends to be discussed whenever there's some kind of incident that makes it visible to general society. The most common response seems to be some variation of "why would anyone hate asexual/aromantic people, they aren't even doing anything" and it just always sits wrong with me. It paints such a passive picture of our existence and feels like a comment influenced by the level of invisibility that aspec people have in society. Why would you be annoyed by someone who is practically invisible? Just go back to ignoring their existence, it's easy!

But despite the invisibility, aspec people are actually doing quite a lot of things that will piss off queerphobic, right-wing and religious people (and hell, even left-wing people). And the most obvious point is that we are actively not performing heterosexuality the way they want us to. People who's entire world view is "cis men and women should be in monogamous, heterosexual marriage and have (white) babies" are not going to lean back and say "oh but those asexuals and aromantics are fine". They will also hate our guts, and they will come up with all sorts of reasons, including insinuating we're all secretly into bestiality, or mentally ill, or not human, or attention seeking children. It's just plain old queerphobia, and like all queerphobia, there's no inherent logic to it which you can worm your way out of by "not doing anything".

And like, there's a lot more that aspec people do which people hate. Raising awareness about amatonormativity? People feel attacked, they hate it. Asexual people having sex? Or not having sex? People hate it! Aromantic people being in (seemingly) romantic relationships? People fucking hate it! Aromantic people having sex? Ohh people hate that!!

I guess the existence of aphobia can be confusing when you haven't spent much time thinking about asexuality and aromanticism, but in the end, these are identities that aren't heteronormative and they will be hit with the same or similar bigotry as any other queer identity. I just get tired of this response after seeing it recycled for 10 years without ever seeming to go any further.

[iluvcookiez]

Picnic Date Confession

Suguru Geto x Reader

-----------------------------------------------------

The weather was beautiful. Despite it being summer, the sun didn't feel extremely hot. It was gentle and warm. You sat at a park bench with a tray of food and a basket of snacks. You were waiting for your best friend, Suguru, to show up. You had planned a picnic date a week before, and thankfully he agreed to come.

Suguru wasn't the type to mess around in relationships or even prioritize finding one, so you had been skeptical about asking him out on a date. Even though you had your small doubts about your feelings being returned, you knew that telling him how you feel would be a rare oppurtunity. You needed a good time and place. A scheduled date was ideal. Also, you knew that it would kill you to hide your feelings until he made the first move.

Whenever you were alone with Suguru, you felt a pleasing sense of comfort, like you could talk to him about anything. He always listened carefully to what you had to say, even if you were rambling about the same topic over and over. You both had similar humor, so you guys were often seen laughing side by side. There were also moments of silence during the times you walked together, but the moments were never awkward. Having Suguru in your presence just felt natural. He was truly your best friend.

You were happy to be close to Suguru, but in the past year you began developing feelings. You knew you wanted more than friendship. Your daydreams consisted of a future with him as your partner. Dates, cuddling, and travel, these thoughts flowed into your head daily.

You began feeling anxious about the possible outcomes of the date. You hadn't told Suguru about your feelings, just that you wanted to go out. You mentioned the word "date" but you were worried that he might've interpreted it differently, like a casual hangout. He didn't seem phased when you said "date." He just smiled and said "alright, see you there," before waving good bye.

You firmly placed your hand on the top of your head, trying not to think about the worst-case scenarios. You've developed emotional strength through past experiences, so you knew that you would end up okay no matter what happened. But of course, you hoped for the best.

"Y/n?" Suguru's voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Oh hey Suguru."

You felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of his voice. Nervousness was slowly building up into your body.

"Sorry for being late," he sighed. "I was originally going to ride my bike here but the front tire was flat. I had to get a ride from Ijichi, and he kind of took his time. You weren't waiting out here too long, were you?"

"No it's fine," you replied. "I was only waiting for ten minutes. You didn't want to ask Satoru for a ride?"

"Yeah, no. He gets side-tracked easily. He would've stopped by every store on the way here."

You laughed at his comment about Satoru. The white haired boy was known for being spotaneous. You noticed the blanket Suguru held in his arms. It was a tan color with a plaid pattern. "Do you want to sit now?" you asked.

"Mhm." Suguru nodded his head and walked over to a flat area of grass nearby. He unfolded the blanket and layed it down almost perfectly.

You set down your tray and basket as he straightened out the corners of the blanket. Suguru's eyes darted back and forth between you and the food. "Ooo what did you bring?" he asked in an excited tone.

He came to sit next to you, eyeing the tray. His right shoulder brushed against your left as he leaned forward to look. Your heart began to beat faster.

"I made some chicken katsu," you said as you lifted the lid of the tray. "It's my first time making it myself, so don't expect it to taste like a five-star meal. I also put the sauce, vegetables, and the rice on the side."

"Mmmm it smells good," Suguru said with a wide smile. "What's in the basket?"

"Snacks and drinks. The plates and utensils are also in there. Can you get some for both of us?"

"Yeah, sure."

Suguru reached for the basket. He took out a plate and fork for the both of you. He placed them down and reached for the drinks. "Do you want peach tea, soda, or water?"

"Peach tea please," you answered.

"Do you want a snack too?"

"No thanks. I'll eat some after I eat the main dish."

You tried your best to feel calm. You never felt this nervous around Suguru. Every small interaction was making your heart throb. He placed your plate on top of your leg, his hand slightly touched the top of your thigh. Your body felt tense as he handed you your tea. His fingertips touched yours as you took the can. You locked eyes for a quick second with Suguru, returning his small grin. You weren't sure if the contact was intentional but he didn't seem bothered and continued smiling.

"I feel bad for not bringing anything to eat," Suguru said as he scooped a big portion of food onto his plate. "I know you told me not to, but it looks bad. I just brought a blanket."

"It's fine," you laughed. "I already planned on cooking and there's only two of us eating. I don't want a bunch of leftovers."

"These leftovers would be good though," Suguru's voice was muffled through the sound of chewing. "The katsu tastes really good for your first time. It's delicous."

"Thank you."

You couldn't stop a smile from spreading across your face. You stared at your best friend as he ate. He looked extremely pleased by the taste of your food. He smiled from ear to ear as chewed. He nodded his head as he swallowed another bite. He noticed your gaze after a minute and he tried to hold his laugh in. "What!??" Suguru exclaimed with his mouth full.

You answered him with pure laughter. You covered your mouth shyly and continued to giggle at the sight of his face. "You look- HAHAHA"

"What!?? WHAT!??"

You continued to laugh as he tried to keep his mouth closed. He covered his mouth, trying to contain his laugh as he ate.

"You look like a chipmunk hahaha," you giggled.

"WHAT!? No I don't!" Suguru exclaimed with laughter.

"Stop talking with your mouth full. The food's going to fly out!"

You and Suguru continued to smile and laugh together as half an hour passed by. Suguru told you stories about Satoru as you ate. He mentioned how Satoru never rode his own bike and always insisted on hitching a ride on the back of Suguru's. Suguru didn't sound like he was complaining though, you knew he loved spending time with Satoru and didn't mind giving him a free ride anywhere. Then you began talking about school. All the good and bad teachers, the classmates you both found annoying, and how bad you struggled in the math classes. Suguru listened to you closely as you went on your little rant. You noticed his eyes observing you as he listened.

"It sounds like you just hate math," he said.

"Yeah I do," you replied with an angry expression. "Nevermind. I know you understand everything in that class."

"I do," he said teasingly. He stuck his tongue out at you. "Maybe you're just stupid."

"SHUTUP!" you yelled in a playful tone. With little force, you threw your empty tea can at the side of his face.

"HEY! I was just kidding!"

"I know you were." You teased him back.

He chuckled to himself before sitting up straight beside you.

"Hey Y/n," Suguru said softly.

Your heart jumped. You didn't know exactly why, but you liked when Suguru said your name. His sudden change of tone made your heart flutter.

"We should do something like this again," he muttered.

He turned his head to look at you. You stared into his eyes trying to hide the nervousness in your expression. "Yeah we can," You said quietly.

"So...why did you want to go on a date all of a sudden?" Suguru looked at you curiously. The feared question made your heart stop. However, his tone wasn't pressuring at all. He talked and smiled so softly in a way that made your nerves feel at ease.

You took a deep breath. You could feel your heart racing beneath your skin. You turned your gaze to the ground. Suguru had asked the question that would inevitably lead to your confession. So he did know it was that kind of date. Right? He's saying it in that way?

You weren't really sure how to start. But you knew that you had to tell Suguru how you felt. There was no doubt you were scared. What if we grow apart? He watched you as you sat silently for a few seconds. He leaned over to look you in the face. Your eyes met with his and you could see his concern.

"Y/n?" he asked with worry. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder. "Sorry, was that a weird thing to ask?"

"N-No no no it's not that," you replied. You could hear your voice trembling.

"Then what -

"I just really..." You began. "I really like you Suguru."

Suguru continued to look at you as you talked. He kept his hand on your shoulder and gave his full attention to whatever words you spoke.

"I was afraid to tell you," You explained. "I don't know if you feel the same way. I'm sorry to put this on you but I like you so much. I love being around you and having you as my best friend. I like having you by my side and I want to be more than friends with you. And I'm sorry... I have to tell you how I feel."

You felt a lump in your throat beginning to form and tears swelling up in your eyes. You weren't sure if you were crying out of pure emotion or the horrible thoughts of how he may react.

Suguru's hand rubbed your shoulder affectionately. He used his other hand to wipe a tear that had fallen from your face. "Why did you say sorry so many times?"

"Y/n," he said softly once again. "Your feelings aren't a burden to me, you don't need to apologize. And there was no need to be scared."

Suguru rubbed your back gently and leaned you close. Your head now rested on his shoulder as he continued talking.

"I...like you too Y/n," he said.

Your eyes widened. Any trace of anxiety was slowly turning into butterflies. This was the first time you caught a hint of nervousness in his voice. You looked up to meet his eyes once again. He gave you a loving smile.

"I love seeing you and being close to you," Suguru continued. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever met and I feel like you just get me. I want to build something more with you too. I've had these feelings for a while...and honestly...I'm so happy that you feel the same. I was unsure about how you felt about me and I'm sorry if I made you doubt yourself."

"I'm so glad Suguru," you sniffled. "And it's okay." You stretched your hand to his face, moving his front strands of hair to the side and cupping your hand on his cheek. "I shouldn't have been so dramatic."

"It's fine." Suguru blushed at the touch of your hand. "You don't need to worry like that. Things will always be okay between us, and we'll always figure it out."

"Yeah, okay."

You rested your head deeper into his shoulder as you continued to admire him. His face was so handsome and the way he smiled at you filled your heart with so much joy.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?"

Suguru placed his hand over yours, interlocking your fingers. He guided your hand to his shoulder. You looked at him dumbfounded. The butterflies in your stomach felt as if they doubled in numbers. He put his other hand on your waist and pulled you forward onto his lap.

The sudden move caught you by surprise. He noticed your shock and let out a small laugh. "What are you doing?" You giggled, already knowing the answer.

"It's fine. There's no one here. I promise."

You scanned the park around you, making sure there was no one in sight. Seeing that the area was clear, you looked back down to face Suguru.

"Can I?" he asked in his sweet husky voice. His eyes were full of love and yearn.

"Of course Suguru," You said with a heartfelt smile.

He leaned forward. Both of his arms were now wrapped around your waist. With both hands on his shoulders, you inched your face closer to his. Your lips touched and you were both swept into a loving kiss.

Suguru kissed you passionately. His lips were soft and he was gentle. He lowered his hands to your hips, pressing you against him and causing a new sensuation within your body.

"Mmmm~." The sensual sound of your voice made Suguru blush more.

You continued to kiss him until you both pulled away for air. He kissed down your neck as you caught your breath. You looked down into his yearning eyes. He was admiring every inch of your face and the passion in his eyes made your heart race with excitement. He buried his face into your chest and hugged you tightly.

"Y/n," Suguru whispered softly. "You're so cute."

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this is my first fic. hoped you enjoyed!! :D

- 🍪🤍

[coltermorning]

A Standing Offer Pt. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: When your car ends up with a minor problem, you’re forced to interact with Arthur again.

Author’s Notes: Part two of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, eventual smut

AO3 Link

~

A Standing Offer

Word count: 3418

Part Two

“That aren’t gonna buff out, Artur.”

Arthur was doing his best to ignore the Irishman at his side, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead for his efforts. He was trying hard to get your bumper back in working order, but it was proving more difficult than he’d thought.

“What is it they call insanity? Doing the same ting over again and expecting different results?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” Arthur grumbled.

“Exactly what you should doing there.”

Arthur stood so fast that Sean jumped back to avoid him. Arthur laughed at him. “What you so jumpy for? I’m just getting another cover for this buffer.”

“Oh, sure you are,” Sean said. “Very funny.”

“Unless you think I have reason to beat your teeth in,” Arthur suggested.

“Me? Never,” Sean answered, following Arthur along as he made for the part he was looking for.

“Shit, there’s reason enough to give you a good beating every day,” Arthur said, scanning the shelves on the wall. He found the right cover for the buffer machine and took it off the shelf, feeling along it to see if it would do the trick. He wasn’t quite pleased, but it was worth trying at least.

“You always this nasty toward your friends?” Sean teased.

Arthur finally turned to him. “To my coworker who won’t go work his job, keeping me from mine in the process? Yes.”

“Ahh, you love me though. Besides, I know what it is. You’re just hung up on that girl. What’s her name? Ruby?”

Arthur really could have punched him then, and John and Javier too for ever mentioning you in the first place.

“I ain’t hung up on anyone. Now go do the job you’re hired to do before I fire you myself.”

Sean let out a bark of a laugh. “You wish you could, English.” But, thankfully, he let Arthur be and went back to the old Chevy he had been assigned a week ago.

Even though Arthur’s shadow was gone, he found himself even more aggravated when he continued buffing out the bumper. The breaks in the plastic that resulted when the piece bent back into its proper shape weren’t going anywhere.

Arthur put the buffer down and rocked back on his knees, hands on his hips. This weren’t good. Either you’d need a new bumper, or you would have to come up here and confirm that you were all right with the damage. The second one was cheaper, but Arthur wanted no reason for the boys at the shop to keep ribbing him over you. It didn’t make any goddamn sense, as far as he was concerned. John and Javier were the two idiots who had cornered you in that club. He’d barely even spoken to you in comparison. But no, all he’d heard since was how sweet on you he was, volunteering to fix up your car cheap. He wished he’d never even offered.

Truth be told, Arthur didn’t quite know why he’d done it. There was the obvious, that he felt bad for all the damage his truck had caused that you would have to pay for. But beyond that, he’d told himself the minute he left the Rouge that he would block all thought of you off. True, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you that night, and also true, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d spoken to him. But it was your job to act as you had toward him. He didn’t think he’d ever have reason to see you again anyway. When he got out of his truck in all that buzzing traffic, the last person he’d expected was you, shouting at some poor girl enough to make her look like she was shrinking into her clothes. He was so amused by your change in behavior that he’d told himself right then and there to be done with it all. He couldn’t fall for a stripper who had only paid him any mind because she was getting paid to do so. So, he’d told you the damage, determined to leave it there, then the words that he would help you came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. And he’d regretted them every moment since.

Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, knowing either way, the shape the car was in at least warranted a call. Best to get it over with sooner rather than later.

~

A number you didn’t have saved in your phone crossed your screen, distracting you from your reality TV. You would normally damn whoever it was and ignore it, but a lot of random numbers had been calling you since moving and starting a new job. You groaned loudly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? This is Arthur.”

Well, well. You didn’t like the excitement that bolted through you one bit.

“Hey,” you said simply, not wanting to make this some big deal. Simple phone call, back to your show.

“I got a problem with your car.”

Just perfect. Couldn’t you have one relaxing day?

“What is it?”

“I got the front bumper back in place, but the breaks in the plastic won’t buff out.”

“So…”

“So you’ll either have to keep it like this or order a new bumper.”

“Oh.” That was an easy decision. “It doesn’t affect driving it, does it?”

“No, just cosmetic.”

You grinned at his use of the word cosmetic. “Easy enough. Leave it like it is.”

“Can do,” he said. And, just before you were about to hang up and go back to your show, “I’ll need you to come look at the damage and sign off on it.”

Christ. You really didn’t need to go see this man in person again. You would have to go back up there to get your car anyway, but you were hoping Arthur would already be busy with another car by then. “Can’t you just sign it for me? Take this as my personal attestation that I won’t sue you?”

“Afraid not,” he said simply.

“Ugh. Fine. When do I need to come up there?”

“It’s ready now. Anytime before five.”

“Great,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster. “Be there soon.”

“Bye,” he said, and hung up before you could.

“Bye,” you said in a sing-song voice, tossing your phone across the couch. This was just not what you needed right now. You were thrilled the car was done so soon, but you were determined to get this man out of your head. Going to see him at his shop, where he dressed like masculinity given form, would not help. But you sucked it up and called an uber anyway, at least glad that you wouldn’t have to inconvenience Janiyah by bumming a ride anymore.

The entire ride to the shop, you watched the traffic from the back seat and did your best to hold your tongue. But truly, you would have to move closer to the club or something. This road rage was taking years off your life.

Before you could do something stupid enough to ruin your uber rider rating, you arrived at Arthur’s shop. It was named Van der Linde Auto Shop—a mouthful of a name that you’d told them to change upon learning it. Because of it, though, you’d learned that Arthur didn’t own the place, that his last name was Morgan, and way too many other personal things about the guys who worked here. John and Javier included. The owner hadn’t been in the last time, and neither had the rest of their little gang of merry men. But today as you walked up in broad daylight, the place was crawling with them.

“Y/N,” someone called out from your right, and you squinted into the sunlight to find John. There laid another problem—because of the business with the cars and the cops, they now knew your real name.

John loped over, pausing his work on a ridiculously jacked-up truck you had a sneaking suspicion was his.

“Hey. Arthur’s just inside. Said to let him know when you got here.”

“Well, here I am,” you said, curious over John’s enthusiasm. You wondered if it was due to flattery or guilt. Most men couldn’t help feeling one or the other toward you after meeting you a second time.

“This way,” he said, sure as ever. You followed him in through the shop’s big bay doors, thinking he was likely feeling both. But you refrained from calling him on it, remembering the woman he and Arthur had been arguing about at the club. No need to insert yourself there.

“Arthur! Y/N’s here,” John called out to the floor.

You couldn’t see Arthur but heard him call out, “Give me a minute. Almost done here.”

You turned to John and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

The scars across his face stretched as he smiled back. “No problem. See you.” Then he turned to go, and you could only laugh under your breath at his confidence.

“Yeah, see you.”

Wanting to get out of here as quick as you could, you went looking for Arthur. There were cars in the way and four other men you could see working—Javier and three others you’d never met—but no Arthur. Javier waved at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You didn’t even want to know, just waved back. But you did spot your car near the back of the shop, so you made for it. Only, you saw sudden movement by your feet and stopped, taking in the sight of…holy fuck.

There were two work boots and a very familiar pair of well-fitting jeans sticking out from under the car at your side. Arthur was on his back on one of those stupid roller things, and the way he reached up to work on the underside of the car revealed a sliver of very chiseled, deliciously sweaty abdomen. You had two seconds to imagine your tongue on those muscles before you mentally kicked yourself and behaved.

You nudged one of his boots. “So, should I come down there, or..?”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he pushed himself out from under the car, rising up and putting those abs to work. You forced yourself not to watch them. Even though the rest of him looked just as good in a black shirt that stretched across his broad chest. He had black streaks across his arms and hands from whatever he had been doing with the car, and he started to wipe them away with a dirty rag.

“What part of ‘give me a minute’ didn’t you get?” he asked, though he sported a smug look as he said it.

You just shrugged. “You look done to me.” Not just done—hot as fuck, you thought to yourself. The way he cleaned his hands with that rag made his forearm muscles turn over, bulging. Something about the movement and the black shirt as opposed to the white one he had been in the last time...

Now that you took him all in, you realized he was undoubtedly threatening in a way that ran past the seams of his shirt and down his coarse arm muscles to his able hands. This man was barely-contained power. And yet, you still wanted it all for yourself.

“I am done,” he said. “But make no mistake, if I weren’t, you’d be waitin’.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl,” you replied lazily, easily. It was so easy to flirt with him you made a point to keep the chit chat to a minimum from then on.

He smirked and threw the rag on top of the car, rolling the contraption he’d been lying on back under the car with his boot. “Car’s over here,” he said, leading the way. You watched his ass in those jeans again, not really caring to divert your gaze. If this was the last time you saw him, it was best to take in the view.

He stopped just before your car and pointed at the front bumper. “Scratches are just there.”

You leaned down to get a better look and were pleasantly surprised. They really weren’t bad. You certainly wouldn’t be buying a whole new bumper just to fix a few pieces of fractured plastic. They were noticeable, but the thing was drivable and had two properly-shaped bumpers again. That was the best you could ask for at the price he was offering.

You straightened up and turned to him, and his gaze flicked back to your face. From where it had been on your ass.

This was a dangerous game the two of you were playing.

“Looks fine to me,” you said. “Where do I sign?”

He just grunted in response, motioning for you to follow him. You really wished he wasn’t so gruff. Rude, really. If he’d just accepted your dance back at the club, he would be gone from your thoughts entirely. But no. He had to make things difficult, like he knew you were a sucker for a challenge.

Arthur led you back to the shop’s corner office, one you noted was walled with glass. Likely so whoever was in here could see what was happening on the shop floor, though your mind went to less innocent things, like what all those workers would think of what a mess Arthur could make of you on this very desk. You shook that thought off before it could take root and looked to Arthur. He had found the form he wanted from the filing cabinet and laid it down on the desk, beginning to fill out the details of the repair. You watched his shoulders and back muscles work against the tiny weight of the pen on paper. This man really was a sight to admire.

“There, if you’ll just…sign there,” he said finally, flipping the paper around for you to sign. He held the pen out to you, and you impulsively tried to catch his gaze as you took it, but he wouldn’t look up. Coward.

You set your purse down in the chair at your side and signed. When you finished and handed him back the pen, he gathered up all the paperwork and the receipt. Then you paid and knew it was time to go or else risk getting hung up on this idiot.

“Here’s the keys,” he said, handing them over. “Try your best to drive a little better from now on.”

“Shut up,” you quipped. “Like you wouldn’t be happy to have me back in.”

He chuckled and shook his head, his face tingeing red. “Go before I charge you for keeping me from my job.”

You gave him one last long look, memorizing that handsome face, before turning on your heel. “Thank you, Arthur.”

All he said in response as he followed you back to the floor was, “Be sure to put it in reverse to back out of here. That’s the one with the ‘R’.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you shot back, though you gave him a smile and a laugh as you did, secretly hoping that just as it usually did at the Rouge, the look would linger.

~

It took you until you got out of your car back at your apartment to realize you didn’t have your purse. It, and your phone, and your wallet, were still sitting in that goddamn chair at Arthur’s shop.

You let out a groan and slapped a hand to your forehead, debating turning right around to go get it. You would need it for work tonight. But you also didn’t want to see Arthur again. You’d spent the entire ride home cursing yourself a fool for how you’d acted toward him at the shop. It was infuriating, really, how you just wanted to be done with him, but seeing him made you turn into the world’s biggest, most obnoxious flirt. You could not get involved with this man. It went against every instinct you had in your professional life. So, you did what any sane person would do when faced with such a problem and avoided it. You stomped upstairs and slammed your apartment door shut behind you, leaving that problem for a later, much wiser, version of yourself.

After eating a ridiculous amount of junk food and bingeing reality TV for the rest of the day, you finally gave in and left a little earlier than usual to go get your purse back before work. You only hoped that John or Javier or literally anyone other than Arthur would be the one to retrieve it for you when you got there.

Upon arriving, not only were you disappointed, you were debating turning right back around and leaving. It was late enough on a Wednesday night that everyone else had left for the day, and only Arthur’s gray truck remained sitting just in front of the office. Fuck.

All you could do was go in and get your shit and leave with as few words as possible, and that’s exactly what you aimed to do as you parked beside him and walked up to the door. But then you saw him through the glass office windows walking around the shop carrying some power tool, lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat away. You watched that glorious body in silence, not moving a muscle to go inside as he used the tool to saw a piece off of a car. Fuck him and his stupid sculpted body.

Before you could move, he looked up and saw you standing there. He startled a little but set the tool down and walked over to you, opening the door. “Jesus, you trying to scare the shit out of me?”

“Sorry,” you managed. “I was just…I left my purse.”

“Oh. Where?”

You pointed inside the shop to the chair that held the tiny bundle of leather you could have burned up with the spite you felt toward it.

He held the door open wider for you and motioned for you to come in.

“Sorry about that,” you said honestly. “Didn’t mean to take up so much of your day.”

He huffed a laugh. “You sure about that?”

You stopped and turned toward him. “What do you mean?”

He crossed the room and took your purse, handing it to you in an annoyingly courteous way that made you think get out now before you do something stupid.

“Just that I’m starting to think you like my company,” he said, meeting your eye with a smile so charming that it made your flirting look pitiful in comparison.

You were lost on a comeback and settled for a simple, “I’m just forgetful is all.” Even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth—he had distracted you into forgetting your purse earlier.

“Uh huh,” he quipped. “And you just happened to be looking my way when I spotted you watching me work through that window, right?”

You felt your face heat. “Something like that.”

He really smiled now. “‘Course.”

He let the silence stretch enough for you to feel a panic you normally never did when it came to men.

“Well, thank you,” you said, turning for the door. “I owe you.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me anything. We’re even,” he said as he stepped forward and opened the door for you.

You passed him and walked into the night air, about to do the very thing you knew you shouldn’t. But you did, because he was a good person under all that toughness.

“Not even a dance?” you quipped, turning on him with a raised eyebrow.

His face hardened, his jaw clenching just a heartbeat long enough for you to know the comment had its desired effect. But then he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want to know why I turned you down before? Why I will every time you ask?”

Your heart started racing in a way no man had made it race in years. “Why?”

“Because I don’t pay for it. If I get what I want from you, it ain’t going to be for any money.”

You just stared at him. He stood straight and let the door fall in, retreating back into his shop. “Night,” he said without looking back. And you were left watching him go, for once the one allowing a man’s words to linger.

[miffyshu]

why do I feel hollow? | sylus qin

summary | in which sylus becomes her caim, providing comfort in the most uncertain times sheltering her hollow, fractured heart.

tags & warnings | sylus x non!mc, female oc, academic au, neurodivergent oc, angst, academic burnout, mild fluff, mentions of mental health. (n.) lit. a “sanctuary”; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, that reminds you that you are safe and loved, even in the darkest of times.

word count: 1.07k (proofread!)

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The rain. for most people it brought peace and tranquillity calming the nerves, it brought sustenance and growth to saplings and plants. But for Minju, it was the complete opposite: it was noisy, and hellish. The constant thumping of the raindrops drove her mad, especially when she was trying to concentrate on her law essay; it was like a sledgehammer pummelling against her skull. Minju had tried every possible thing; white noise, earplugs, moving to a different room, nothing worked. Minju flopped on her bed like a flimsy pool noodle flailing on water. Everything was, pointless.

Drowning in expectations — the feeble cries for help were misunderstood and neglected. Until help came from the most unexpected place.

Sylus: Hey, sweetie. Is everything okay? You weren't in class today. I was thinking about you..

Her phone buzzed again, snapping her out of her reverie, as she focused on the task at hand before getting distracted again.

Sylus: Dear. Please open the door. I'm waiting for you outside and it's raining, please let me in before I catch a cold.

She almost choked on her saliva. Sylus? At her door? She shot a glance at the clock on her bedside table, which read: 12:35AM. Minju tossed herself into her upstairs manual wheelchair to the stairs so she could use her seated lift. Before she forgot again she shot him a quick text.

Minju: I'm on my way down.

Guilt churned in her stomach. He was worried about her. And now he was standing in the rain because of her. Carefully, she wobbled to the front door reaching as high as she possibly could, to touch and open the door. Curse having a 4’7 body.

Finally, the door clicked open, a broad, towering silhouette resembling a wet racoon stood in front of her in the drizzling rain. Sylus.

Seeing her dazed expression on her face, as fresh as a coat of paint, he snickered teasingly. “What's the matter, dove?” He perused, his lips failing to suppress the very palpable smirk plastered on his face. “You weren't expecting your oh-so-handsome knight in shining armour to come running to his damsel in distress?”

Minju guffawed. Pompous as always, “Yeaaah I'm in soooooo much trouble! Save me!” she mocked, rolling her eyes at him letting him in before he drowned in the buckets of water, being chucked from the sky.

The boy took off his drenched sneakers, placing them on the mat, before she sat back on the lift looking at him as she went up. “So…what brings you here? Besides, how did you know where I live?”

It suddenly dawned on her that this was the first impression of her house.“I was worried about you.” He was candid in his speech and posture - his behaviour became completely paradoxical as soon as he was posed with such a question. She puffed her cheeks in annoyance. What did he think she was? A five year old? Yeah, right! There's no way someone like him would bat an eyelid at her, let alone visit her at this supposed ‘scandalous hour’ under the veil of darkness. Tonight was going to be a looooong night.

────────────────────

“Sylus, be honest with me.” Minju sat across from him, her eyes piercing his, arms crossed, nonplussed. “Why are you here, not that…I'm ungrateful it's just…”

“Just what?” Sylus echoed, a hint of mirth reflected in his eyes, a gleam - which could only mean one thing. Mischief. He laid relaxed on her bed, hugging her pillow, “I thought I made myself perfectly clear, sweetie, I'm here to see you…” He recited the exact words in his messages matter-of-factly, which only boiled her animosity towards him tenfold.

“Fine,” She retorted, swivelling in her chair, “You can stay there and ogle at me all you want, cos you're clearly bored - or shut up and get lost.” A veil of silence draped over them, truth be told - she didn't mean to sound as harsh as she did but she was at her wits end; her patience waning thin.

Hunger corroded her stomach. She hadn't eaten anything for the past few hours. Running on fumes and a string of feeble hopes and dreams. Her posture, slumped - something akin to a dead shrimp, her eyelids barely open like slits. Exhaustion crashed over her like waves against the shore, eroding any sliver of defence she had.

Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by Sylus, who had keenly been picking at her mannerisms. The way she would slump in her chair when she would get exhausted, not bothering with the teachers. Or how she wouldn't pay attention in class, especially maths. Or how these past few days, the light in her eyes seemed to slowly dwindle, till there was nothing but a feeble flicking ember.

Tentatively, he stood up, scooping her up in his arms as if she were a porcelain doll. He would often hear whispers, laments on how she saw herself as “imperfect.” & “fat” In Sylus' eyes she was nothing like that. She was just herself, nothing more nothing less. Like a levitating feather, he gently placed her on the bed, making sure the pillows adequately supported her to prevent any back pain. She groaned in her restless slumber tossing and turning, her stomach growled, a monster roaring demanding to be fed.

Sylus frowned, how long had she gone without eating? Did she even realise how dangerous it was? Knowing that rummaging through her kitchen wouldn't be very…‘gentlemanly,’ but he had to try to get her to eat something.

Carefully, he made his way to the kitchen, it smelt like a haven of aromatic spices all attacking his senses at once. She was definitely a foodie. ‘Cute.’ thought Sylus as he rifled through the cupboards to find the needed utensils.

Eventually, he decided on making egg fried rice. Easy, quick and filling. To avoid fucking up, because he didn't want to make something inedible and…(because he low-key wants to impress her) Sylus browsed through YouTube to find a recipe and found one called, “Uncle Roger's Egg Fried Rice,” He connected his earphones and played the video, “Hello, niece and nephew, welcome back to uncle Roger’s channel…”

Unbeknownst to him a small shadow stood behind the door, watching him too scared to see the signs or look him in the eyes. The question was would she allow him to help her before she completely destroyed herself?

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© miffyshu — 2025 | please do not copy or steal & absolutely no feeding to a.i

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

[veal-exe]

I’m going to go ahead and link the post I wrote on misappropriated leftist language since you seem confused about what counts as radical speech and what is, in fact, just being a self-congratulatory asshole.

There is a difference between not being up to date on language, or using the wrong language, and knowingly calling someone 'a stupid tranny'

You are not being transgressive. You are not being edgy in a meaningful or liberatory way. You’re just saying slurs on someone else’s post like a teenager trying to prove you’re the most punk person at the school assembly, and somehow thinking that makes you clever instead of embarrassing. Let me make this simple for you: calling a trans person a slur they haven’t consented to, in a context where it clearly is not welcome, is not activism. It’s not neutral. It’s not anything but hostile.

You can scream “context” all you want, context includes the power dynamics of a space. You’re replying to a post I made calling out harm, and instead of showing basic respect to the community in the inter-community conversation happening, or the person who wrote the post, you decided to swing in and drop a slur because you use it “neutrally.” Which you did not by the way, don't delude yourself, calling someone a 'Tranny Loser' is not fucking neutral.

Okay. Great. You know who else thinks their use of that word is “neutral”? Cis people who haven't learned what language they're allowed to use for other people and who don't care. Do you want to be in that company? You’re closer to them right now than you are to anything resembling praxis.

You say you “use that word regularly.” That’s your business. I do too for myself and people who consent to it, like buddy, I'm Tranny. That doesn’t give you license to throw it around on other people’s content or to use it for trans people who you don't know personally who haven't reclaimed it.

Reclamation is not universal just because you’re trans. That’s not how community works. That’s not how slurs work. That’s not how respect works. If someone hasn’t opted into that language with you, you don’t get to slap it onto them and then act shocked when people don’t cheer you on for being bold and rebellious. The Queer Community doesn't even call fellow individual LGBTQIA+ Queer without consent/knowing reclamation because it is overwhelmingly considered uhh Not Fucking Cool. And I say that as someone who knows that Queer is only really used as a slur in pockets these days.

And comparing your behavior to a Black person using the n-word with another Black person? That’s not just disingenuous it’s laughable. You are not part of an equivalent dynamic here, calling another person a Tranny Loser in the trans community is not the same as black people reclaiming words in their community as a whole, and you clearly don’t understand the history or gravity of what you’re invoking. You’re not “punching up.” You’re punching sideways and calling it solidarity while stepping on people’s toes and insisting they thank you for it.

You seem like the kind of person who reads the first paragraph of a leftist zine and thinks it gives you carte blanche to do harm as long as you talk like a Tumblr-era anarchist. It doesn’t. Your tone policing accusations don’t scare me. Your performance of not caring doesn’t land. You can yell about how not-a-slur it is all you want, you’re still using my post to do harm in a way that I won't allow.

Let me say it again:

this is not a debate. I am telling you to Fuck Off and Get Fucked. I don’t care if it was casual or deliberate, you don’t get to put on your cool kid baby idiot hat and call that boundary invalid just because you’ve decided your usage of a slur is enlightened and everyone else is “throwing a hissy fit" you dumb motherfucker.

You came into my house and tracked mud across my carpet, and now you want to argue that because you’re used to walking in filth, I should be fine with it.

No. Get the fuck out.

The only place white cis men have in trans discourse is sitting down, being quiet, learning, and standing up for trans people against their fellow cis people.

That also means not blindly parroting hateful transphobic rhetoric from other trans people, because some trans people are transphobic (TRFs, Transmeds, Truscum, etc), as an example, if you were a white cis man and you had a trans friend who was constantly telling you that say, and I’m gonna make something up here that hasn’t happened, but say you have a trans friend who’s constantly saying people who don’t want to start HRT aren’t REALLY trans.

you would have no business thinking, repeating, or pushing that. You’re obligated to listen to the whole community, not just the ONE trans friend you have spewing bigoted rhetoric. This goes doubly so if your bigoted trans friend is white because then they should also be sitting down and listening to the poc in the community.

Cis White Men have no place giving their thoughts and opinions about how the kind of trans person they like less isn’t oppressed. They definitely don’t get to say they ‘have tboy swag’ while being actively transphobic and uplifting TRFs, stop, cis white boy, stop, etc.

Cis white women don’t either ftr, no cis person does, but this is about a specific event.

[majaloveschris]

Hey Maja,

You’re level headed, I mean that in the most respectful way. 😅

But I had to flip the situation so to speak and really ask myself hmmm what if we’re all wrong about this being PR, like what if to Chris it looks completely different. He is just a guy from Boston who happened to get famous due to talent. He’s done pr in the past yes and seemed to be authentic.

But just like life people change. Chris was never Steve Rogers, Chris is just a guy like many of people’s exes. What if he decided to do things differently and this is who he chose regardless of how it looks. Maybe he wanted to keep his fandom and image and that’s why it’s so PR looking like he’s playing the Hollywood game, but also working to help establish his wife. I just had to the look at another pov and like Lisa may indeed have accidentally liked something, it happens. Celebs are human and you don’t think they get tired of random strangers talking shit to them or stalking friends and family, you don’t think they’d see how invested online strangers are and try to play with people just to stay relevant and also just because.

Chris is simply living his life like the rest of us and Hollywood dressed him up and he’s played along, but now he’s trying to manage that plus his private life to another celebrity that doesn’t align to the image he held for so long and it’s just coming off as so badly business and fandom wise, but to him he just thought he was smarter and thought oh if I share her online people will love her, maybe he didn’t know she trolled or didn’t care if she did. Chris doesn’t know any of us to care. We assume these celebrities actually give a damn about this fandom shit, but they probably don’t.

People lie, he speaks in interviews that goes to BILLIONS of people so I don’t expect him to tell personal stuff too much more either especially these days, people are crazy. But to the fandoms limited view they see every video dissect every move to mean more that what it actually is.

I just wonder if this has spiraled and eventually we do unfortunately learn that Chris was an image while the real Chris Evans is simply human and this is real and the life he chose to live, just him and not to uphold some fake image, but he’s forced to keep playing that role as well.

If this doesn’t end by Summer or before their next anniversary, I do hope many people start really questioning reality. It’s easy to get caught up in parisocial relationships with celebs and not even know it.

Hi, thank you so much! I think it’s already crossed everyone’s mind at least once that what if this whole thing is real? And I don’t think this thought is bad; I think narrow-mindedly thinking this can’t be anything but fake is much worse, because then you will start misunderstanding everything that comes out and think everything proves something, or your point, which is not true.

Chris has never been and never will be Steve Rogers, and I don’t remember him ever stating the opposite. I never really understood why people thought in the first place that he is like him or can ever be. He is a fictional character after all, and as you said, he is just a guy, filled with flaws like all of us.

But let’s talk a bit about the theory you wrote down: what if this is real, but he is, on purpose, trying to make it look like it was PR? First of all, that would be extremely disrespectful towards his wife. If he decided to marry her, then go ahead and show her off. If he’s actually been doing that, he just made everything worse, because after a while people will realize that he was lying and playing them, and oh, that’s gonna be another shitshow. Because him playing people to make them think it’s not real and doing this just to save himself because he chose a not-so-good person as his wife is even worse than this being real. And while I don’t like Alba at all, that would be really humiliating for her as well. However, I find it highly impossible that this would be the case. I don’t think he is that bad of a human being, and you can clearly see in his body language that their relationship isn’t any more caring and loving behind closed doors as well. I mean, for example, when the NYC pap walk came out, and that random girl uploaded that video where they were seen as well, you could’ve seen how they act when they think they aren’t being recorded.

Lisa’s like, It could’ve been an accident, but considering that she didn’t really interact with her or anything like that, maybe only after this whole thing came out, says a lot, especially when you can see that she is still supportive of Minka, for example.I think these people care about what people say more than you would imagine. Half of the things that are being said and done wouldn’t have been if they didn’t care. Because of this whole whatever-ship, his career took a hit, not even a small one. People unfollowing, fans leaving after decades. His team noticed that; he noticed that. Celebs love saying that they don’t care, but they do, more than you would imagine.

Fans obviously care more than any random person who comes across an interview of his. While I agree that some things are being blown out of proportion, I do think that we can’t deny the inconsistency of their relationship. Even if it’s real, it’s clear they want to sell a love story that most likely never existed.

I do agree that after a while we need to let this story go, even if it turns out to be not real in the end. It’s funny because will we ever actually get to know what this was? Probably not. Even if this ends one day, we will never actually know the truth. But after a while everyone will get tired of this and move on with their life. They either will „accept” her presence in his life, try to forget that she exists, or leave the fandom. Either way, I hope everyone will do what’s best for their mental health because this isn’t worth yours, that’s for sure.

[identitty-dickruption]

i’ve been dealing with increasing manifestations of my undxed chronic illness these last few months (GI issues) and the weight of everything - from the endless wait times for a specialist even when looking privately, to every healthcare provider who has just met me (aka the ED doctors and gastroenterologist) dismissing me and telling me it’s just anxiety, to their refusal to do tests and my family’s indifference to my struggles - has really been weighing on my mental health. it’s especially crushing learning that 1) i’m not alone and that 2) some people have waited much longer than my single year, to get help. i’m feeling so downtrodden and i don’t know how to find the energy to keep advocating for myself and waiting for someone to take me seriously. i waited months to see a gastroenterologist just for him to refuse to do an endoscopy despite odd bloodwork + symptoms, and when he finally agreed, i fell ill with the flu and haven’t recovered, so they canceled it. now i’m back to square one, and though i’ve got an appointment with a new gastroenterologist, i’m exhausted. even if she listens to me and takes me seriously, procedures can be weeks or months in the future. i don’t know how much longer i can go on being in pain when eating and not eating properly. i don’t really know what else to do though, and my mother snapped at me yesterday that she’d had enough of hearing about me constantly. sorry this is a lot of rambling but what i’m trying to ask is do you have any advice for having the strength to keep going and to have patience? i’m also australian btw for context. totally understand if you’d rather not answer this, but it means a lot if you do :)

sorry I've taken so long to respond to this, but you've been in my thoughts the past couple of days and I just wanted to make sure I could answer this in the way that would be most helpful. to start with, I'm really sorry that you've been getting so much pushback from doctors and from your family. I understand what that's like, and it can be completely exhausting and soul-destroying in so many different ways. I really hope someone takes you seriously soon

most of my strength comes from my relationships. I have a friend with similar disabilities to me who is honestly a hero and a godsend, both as someone who understands my vents and as someone who often has advice for dealing with the worst symptoms. my partner is also the most understanding guy a person could ask for. I met both this friend and my partner through a disabled community group at my university. and although I no longer really hang out at that group so much, I've stayed close with a lot of the comrades I used to hang out with there. online communities can also be helpful for this, although I've found in-person communities to be significantly more valuable for me, personally

having strength and patience while your body continues to betray you is a difficult task. there is merit in being able to acknowledge it as such. you do not have to pretend that it isn't hard, even if the people around you don't want to hear it anymore. this is where I've found creating art/writing to be a useful tool. I know it sounds silly, but when my body brings me to the end of my tether, it can be useful for me to draw some shitty little drawings or to write a shitty little poem. you are allowed to let yourself express exactly how difficult this time has been. in whatever form that takes

I know you mentioned that you've got an appointment with a new gastroenterologist (which is great!) but if all else fails... once again, getting in touch with disabled communities in your area might be a good bet. about a month ago, I had my first ever positive interaction with a doctor, and it was a doctor who had been recommended to me by someone who had similar symptoms/disorders to myself. good medical professionals can be hard to come by, but if there are good ones near you, other sick/disabled people are probably going to know about it

I don't know how useful this has been, because to be honest I have no clue how I've made it through the deepest pits of "fucking hell this sucks". but I hope you figure it out, one hour at a time if you have to. I hope you find answers sooner rather than later, and that you can start navigating treatment options that make sense for you. all the best <3

[notmoreflippingelves]

[takoseimegumi]

I don't usually reblog posts like this or add comments to posts I reblog, but I wanted to share my experiences. Just to show all the ways something like this can affect people. Content warnings for anxiety, suicide, abuse and sexual harassment.

This came at the absolute worst time in my life. Things were starting to look up for me. I'm autistic and have had trouble functioning in society, but I had hope things were getting better. I got a bank account, a long-term online friend had confessed his love to me leaving me no longer single, I was starting to go out on my own after years of needing someone else to come with me... things were really hopeful.

Then the lockdowns started. I wasn't able to go out. I couldn't use the money I now had access to. I wasn't able to arrange even one irl meeting with my boyfriend (we live in different countries). And when I tried to go to the store I was heavily restricted in what I could do. There were spaced-out lines, you had to follow a route inside the store, some wouldn't accept me without a mask, one yelled at me for being slightly out of line... I had no choice but to become a shut-in.

It got to the point when just seeing mentions of what was going on gave me extreme anxiety. And that was completely unavoidable. I was living in a constant state of that.

At one point I got a message from my boyfriend where he explained he got the virus. I had to spend a couple of weeks living in complete instinctual fear for him. I couldn't sleep. I tried to distract myself but I couldn't stop crying. I wanted to be there for him but I couldn't. It turned out fine in the end, but to this day remembering those two weeks makes me tear up.

Think that's bad enough? It gets worse.

Shortly before the pandemic started, my mum started dating someone. I was happy for her at first. Things seemed to be looking up for her as well. But then... strange things started to happen.

My mum's sanity took a nosedive after this whole thing started. She was like full-on tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist. It was jarring seeing her like this. And unfortunately, her mental health deteriorating wouldn't just affect her.

Her boyfriend turned out to be an emotionally abusive bastard towards not only her, but me and my brother. My brother ended up leaving after mum's boyfriend and me had a fight (that was the last straw for him). And he was basically taking advantage of my mum's shattered sanity to keep her with him.

The emotional abuse wasn't even the worst part. This is where it gets really ugly. Over the years even as lockdown was settling down, the damage to my development was already done (to this day I still haven't recovered) and I was still a complete shut-in. My mum's boyfriend would start making inappropriate comments towards me, and whenever I would complain, he would guilt-trip me into taking it back. Talking to mum did not help. He'd successfully brainwashed her. She refuses to believe he could do wrong even to this day.

And over the years, the comments got worse. He would divulge his fetishes, try to invade on my hobbies, invalidate my asexuality and past sexual trauma (just because I separate fiction from reality), and even send me sexually explicit gifts like laced panties and a vibrator.

I was waking up in anxiety attacks. I felt trapped. It got so bad I tried to kill myself in the bathtub just so I could escape.

At that point, the pandemic was officially over. But I was so mentally broken by everything that had gone on that I couldn't leave.

That is, until my boyfriend told me to text my brother about it. He got me out of there. I've been living with him and my grandma for a little over a year now.

This wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the pandemic. My mum would be the person she used to be. She would have left that bastard the moment I spoke up about him.

And I would still be cheerful and optimistic like I was before. But I can't be. And I don't have hope I ever will be.

The only thing that keeps me going is my boyfriend, my online friends and my interests.

So no, I don't think we should romanticise quarantine.

"remember quarantine when everyone was baking bread and dancing--" no, but I remember quarantine when a bunch of people were borderline suicidal. and I remember quarantine when people got screamed at for not wearing a mask outside. and I remember quarantine when businesses were forced to close and people lost their jobs. and I remember quarantine when there were government tip lines to report family dinners. and I remember quarantine when no one was allowed to go to church.

and I remember how it's a really good thing that my grandma wanted to be cremated, since that meant we could delay her funeral. because if we had to have it soon after she died (from cancer, not covid), three of her kids wouldn't have been allowed to be there. they wouldn't have had the chance to say goodbye.

so no, I don't remember any kind of human flourishing as a result of quarantine. and you're right that people should stop romanticizing it.

That's the quarantine I remember.

And I'm not going to forget it, either.

It's crazy how they are already trying to gaslight people into thinking we were all just living our best lives.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I think I need that "Wow, I haven't stubbed my toe in five months! I was then shot fifty-seven times." Audio again

[n0bluev]

@fushiglow hmm….wonder who i’d draw this for all of a sudden and why… 🤔🤔

[loverboybrightsideghost]

hey. everyone. do you remember the pandemic? remember the year and half, two years, still ongoing for many? the worldwide horrific illness with lasting effects on everyone's psyche's and a great tragic many's physical health, forever? it happened like, oh, five years ago now? remember that guys?

[mjrdm]

.

[mackthecheesy]

rip to the person in my dream last night who i was in a time loop trying to save </3 woke up before i ever could

[widevibratobitch]

laalalalala another vent post because i have no therapist to pay for listening to my bullshit

[harmonizewithechoes]

.