#you dont want to let black people rag on white people while discussing how we were fucking enslaved for years

[dyketubbo]

i get why theres people who dont like when people use their minority status to advertise why they need help i really do but at some point it stops being like. some pet peeve or a recognition that some posts asking for money can be counterproductive in their hostility or even a general acknowledgement that people who need money shouldnt ask on tumblr and becomes like. a slope into "i hate when minorities ask for help because i dont want to acknowledge that being a minority makes it hard to get help and im mad these minority groups hate their oppressors because im apart of the group their oppressors are in so i feel it reflects on me (except this kneejerk hatred of being reminded of this fact reflects on me harshly anyways)"

#aka saw a post on my dash complaining about people making 'guilt trippy political posts' and low and behold . #the notes have people actively going after black history month and juneteenth donation posts. #its almost as if complaining about minorities asking for help leads into believing minorities asking for help bc theyre minorities- #-is inherently a political thing and especially so leads into a belief that its all guilt trippy nonsense full of insults because.. #you dont want to let black people rag on white people while discussing how we were fucking enslaved for years #and it upsets you to be reminded of this and that your pissy attitude can contribute to why those posts are like that #you dont have to donate!! so shut the fuck up about how you dont want to! no one caressssss #its okay if you Cant help but dont be a bitch about it #stop inviting bigots to bitch n moan about how they hate juneteenth bc black people start asking for money #in fact stop acting as if asking for money is a bad thing anyways thats how it gets ya #sometimes.. minorities have it rough. and they hate their oppressors bc of what happened to them and their ancestors. go figure #for the record this is a very different discussion than when creators either use their minority status to advertise #or when fans narrow why you should watch a creator down to 'because theyre a minority' #but either way even that discussion doesnt end at 'minorities shouldnt use their minority status to advertise themselves' #because the situation is way more complicated than that and you start losing the ability to recognize complexities in- #-why minority creators need support because theyre minorities #and also like. the fact that being a minority influences your content #sometimes yeah even if i may like a white dude gamers content id still watch a black girl gamer instead bc then id decrease the chance #of having to deal with the fact that some white dude is inevitably going to make uncomfortable ass jokes because he just doesnt know #yknow? #mask mews #discourse

[worldsandwonders]

I glanced down at my phone, staggering down the dark, lonely street away from joes, and smiled. Noah. He was offering to pick me up, an offer of which I gratefully accepted and decided that it'd be best to find a dry spot to wait as the heavens opened. I stood in the start of an alley under a metal staircase to keep out of the rain, pulling Noah's scarf tighter round my neck, covering my ears and wishing I'd remembered a hat this morning.

The scarf I wore was the same one I always wore when it was cold out, grey and covered in these cute little owls and foxes pulling funny faces, which may be childish but at that time of year there were constant storms and it was freezing most of the time, and that was the warmest scarf my boyfriend owned

clouds swirled above the empty streets, they looked dark enough without a storm brewing above them. Most of the street lights around this part of town were either smashed or pretty much dead, providing little to no comfort in the dying light. With the little light they did give off, they only unveiled the piles of rubbish and empty beer bottles nestled at their base.

Neon lights from the strip club across the street were the only other source of light. They flickered every now and then, as the door opened and slammed to girls in red high heels and tiny dresses skipping out with drunken married men in tow, back to empty cars or back alleys, if I didn't know any better I'd say the girls were just happy for an excuse to do something even vaguely warm. I watched for a while, one of the girls I saw- I think she lived in the same building as me, helped me with my shopping once- looked barely over 16, petite with pale skin and short brown frizzy hair. I could've been certain she'd had a nice smile last time I saw her but this one looked wide, scared almost, too many teeth... Bile rose in my throat, I diverted my attention. That man looked about 70.

Rain splashed into the gutter in front of my feet, as I lazily traced patterns into the grime on the floor with my boot, watching the occasional car pass at the end of the road. Hoping every time that it was Noah coming to get me. I could've sworn by that point that my lips were blue, as I felt a drop of water from my drenched hair hit my face. I just needed to get home. Off of this damn street.

That's when a familiar car pulled up next to my little hiding spot, it wasn't big or expensive, a bit battered but it was warm and smelt like home somehow, and had the only thing I really cared about right now in it. I shuffled round to the other side and pulled on the stiff handle, my boyfriend throwing me a gentle smile and a blanket as I sank into the seat next to him.

"I brought you some clothes to get into" His eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Thanks" my voice trembled as I reached for the warm pair of black joggers and one of his many Queen t-shirts he brought for me.

It took a bit of shuffling but I was, eventually, in suitably warm clothes, wrapped up in a thick blanket that Noah brought from home. It was the one we usually curled up under when someone had a bad day and needed to be able to attempt to subtly cry into something whilst pretending that the other person couldn't see them. It had come in handy a few times since the attacks had started, for both me and Noah

"You look like a Pokémon" my boyfriend commented fondly as he started the engine,

"Swadloon?" I couldn't help but laugh a little at that, I guess I kinda did. Noah nodded, a grin spreading over his face

"Nerd"

"Says the guy with a degree in both chemistry and biology. But sure, IM the nerd here"

The rest of the drive home went by in mostly comfortable silence with him occasionally glancing nervously in my direction and asking if I was feeling okay. I would simply nod, staring out at the buildings we past, the raindrops on the window contorting the shops and houses.

When we pulled up outside the block of flats we live in, Noah was quick to get out and scurry round to my side of the car. Opening the door he picked me up bridal style, despite all of my protests, announcing that we would come back for my clothes left in the car tomorrow morning and carried me inside.

The building was old, with creaky floorboards that you had to avoid to make sure you didn't wake up that crazy drunk guy next door, and there was always atleast one grumpy looking cat sat waiting on a chair sat by the front door. That damn chair must've been dumped there at some point, though I couldn't for the life of me tell you when, and was left so long that the cats claimed it as their own. Tonight it was an old tabby cat with patches of grey fur and half an ear missing. It was of my assumption that we had both a drunk guy and a crazy cat lady living in our building, because fuck knows where all of those damn cats come from if not.

After the treck up four flights of stairs (the elevators been out of order for ages, I'm pretty sure some teenagers did something to it, though I can't prove anything) we arrive outside our door. Reaching out I grabbed the keys, of which Noah had stuffed in his back pocket in favour of carrying me, and turned to unlock the door.

He only let me down once we were safely inside the flat, with the lights on and with me on the bed. I watched intently as he changed his clothes and wandered over to me, clambering under the covers. Shifting my position, I layed my head on his chest and looked up at him. He grabbed his book off of the nightstand and busied himself with that, as I admired the way his lip curled up slightly, and his adorable freckles, scattered across his his cheeks and how his intelligent, gentle, dark eyes reflected the light on the bedside table. How his brow creased slightly when he focused, and his head tilted slightly.

I hadn't realised I had been staring, but apparently he had, as he smiled down at me, one eyebrow raised. I felt heat creeping up my neck, despite us having been together for so long now, I never got over the embarrassment of being caught admiring him.

"You should get some rest babe, I don't want you getting ill" he trailed his fingers in patterns on my lower back, just underneath my shirt. Placing his book on the side, he ran his hand through my still damp hair and pulled me closer. I wanted to argue and tell him I wasn't tired, but I felt my eyelids start to droop, before I could even get my words out, and relaxed against him. Maybe I did need some rest....

I awoke to the smell of waffles wafting in from the kitchen, the corners of my mouth twitching up into a smile, waffles were a privilege we didn't often get now, it was mostly toast and rice. As I moved, I became very aware of the way my limbs ached, my head throbbing, and my throat burning. Shit.

"Babe" I called for Noah, my voice coming out as an awful croak. I pulled my legs up to my chest, already too warm, as I heard him come shuffling into the room, bringing the smell of waffles with him. Managing to open my eyes, I looked up at him placing the plate of waffles onto my bedside table, his other hand was occupied with a cold rag, kinda like he had predicted this.

"Urgh, how is it even possible to even get ill this fast" Noah simply smiled and pecked my pouting lips gently, pressing the cold cloth to my forehead.

He fussed around me for another hour, taking my temperature 4 times for accuracy (despite my protests) and made stupid jokes about taking my temperature from "other places" which I politely ignored. Whilst my boyfriend went through every possible illness I could have and then requested that he be allowed to have a bit of blood to look at through a microscope (which I, again, protested against, joke or not). Coming to the conclusion that I had the flu and that I wasn't going to die, he shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving me alone in our shared, and slightly messy, bedroom. It had been a while since I had resigned myself to domestic life, something I would've scoffed at a few years ago. The flat was filled with pictures of us, all of his favourite science books neatly stacked on a shelf in the corner, blankets piled up by my side of the bed, an overflowing washing basket that could be "sorted later" next to my record and comic book collections piled high; they were most likely going to topple and make a mess at some point.

At the time, me and Noah had been discussing getting a dog, for purposes of completing our tiny happy family, however we never seemed to get around to it.

He entered the room again about a half hour later, all dressed up to go to work, and plonked down on the bed. His face was carved with lines that made him look like a completly different person and he was refusing to look me in the eyes. I knew what that meant. Someone else was either missing or dead.

"Who was it this time?" His raised his eyes wearily, twiddling his thumbs "Noah, come one"

"The girl from next door, the young one" I felt bile rise in my throat. The one I'd seen last night. I should've said something, I knew she was young why didn't I say something. Guilt swirled in my stomach and it must've showed on my face as Noah raised an eyebrow at me, "you saw something." It wasn't a question.

"I saw her coming out of that club across the street from Joe's, with some rich old white guy, looked like 70" I turned my head away and sank down in bed, "Jesus. This is so fucked up." Noah just nodded.

"They found her body down that alley by Joe's under a pile of rubbish, I tried figuring out what was going on but everyone's telling a different story, some say she had her guts ripped out, some said she was shot... I dont- I honestly.... Fuck."

I shifted forward in bed and wrapped my arms around him. We may not have known her very well but she was young and kind, and that was enough. The list of bodies and missing persons was getting longer and longer every fucking week but nobody thinks there's a pattern, nobody has noticed a pattern, and it was getting closer to our front door too, 3 people from our building, dead or missing.

"Maybe we both need a day off today" Noah let out a breathy laugh and leaned into my arms

"I fucking wish".

I spent the rest of the day dozing, waiting for Noah to come home and thinking about how long it had been since I'd seen my friends. At 2:30 I ventured to the kitchen in barefoot (Noah wouldn't have approved) to make Mac n cheese (you know the really crappy stuff out of a can?). Our kitchen was filled with pots and pans we never actually used, Noah couldn't cook and I was a lazy bitch so we never really bothered, but as more and more people went missing or died, the more jumpy Noah got around people. Anxious and paranoid, he'd decided that we would just have to figure cooking out, cause anyone could be a threat. There was no blaming him for his fear though, as far as the public was aware, there were no suspects, no evidence, no witnesses. Whoever the fucker was, they knew what they were doing.

Being home alone had started becoming increasingly scary, so I checked locks, behind doors, in cupboards, under the bed. Like when I checked for monsters when I was little. Except this time the monster was real.

Around 6:00 Noah got home, his face slightly pale and with bags under his tired eyes. I opened my arms for a hug, which he gladly accepted, basically melting as he sagged.

"I am so glad this week is over" he shifted, pulling me towards the sofa, groaning as his bones cracked "two days of worrying about things that aren't science, before it's back at it again"

I smiled sadly, slumping into the sofa with him. My entire body was still aching like hell and my throat felt like someone had taken a flame thrower to it, but I could cope(kind of).

Our sofa was comfy and soft, covered in blankets at my own request, ready for that kind of situation( and also ready for the colder seasons as the heating had stopped working ages ago but the guy we hired to have a look never turned up). Also a billion different scented candles for as many different situations and moods as I could think of. There was a small TV that we never used perched on a stand in the corner (we were considering selling it)and the rest was essentially books that we'd collected since we moved here. Noah always said we should move somewhere nicer. But that place felt like home. Maybe that's why we stayed as long as we did.

I demanded that Noah go get changed so that we could cuddle, and despite all of his protests of "no, I'm too tired", he did. Coming back 2 minutes later in a pair of shorts and a pink Floyd t-shirt, and slumped into my arms as I pulled 3 or 4 blankets over him. His head found my lap, as I crossed my legs underneath me, holding his hand and petting his hair. Clinging to both me and the blankets he started to sob, heaving and crying into blankets, and my chest ached. I wished there was something I could do. I wished I could help him.

#writers #writing #writers on tumblr