Self-gatekeeping, Where I'm Like 'I Haven't Been Into This Long Enough/haven't Seen All Of This/don't

self-gatekeeping, where I'm like 'I haven't been into this long enough/haven't seen all of this/don't know the people behind this -what if it's actually problematic', so I refuse to wear merch, or show fanart

ᗰᑌIᔕTᗩKᗩᗩᕼᗩᑎ ᗩᗩᑎEᔕTᗩᗩ KᑌᑎTᗩᐯᗩᗩᒪEIᔕᔕᗩ

listen, sometimes I just wanna drop everything & live off of intentionally obscure art

He took the matchbox from my shaking hands and lit one. The whole thing caught flame easily. Hardly stepping away he dropped it on the ground, which sparked an immediate chain reaction.  We'd done good prepping.

He wrapped his arm around me, and I leaned into him.  It was a warm autumn evening; he had sundrops in his hair, the air smelled of wildflowers and gasoline. Running his fingers trough my hair he began humming a familiar tune, a lullaby father had taught me.  I glanced up at him, and saw the reflection of our home in his eyes. Something inside broke and collapsed. I finally dared look straight at the house. The fire had spread quickly, already eating away at the upstairs outer wall.

Smoke began to clog the view before our lungs.  He took a deep breath, and began guiding me gently toward the car. A single suitcase filled with books & paintings laid on the back seat. It was all we'd taken from our years here.  I wrapped his coat tighter around myself, as we drove off into the world outside the manor.

no one should be wealthy, no one should go hungry & no one should suffer against their will ♥️