#I have them disabled in my notifications I don't ever see them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

insipid-drivel · 5 months ago

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Buddy, its not that serious. Youre the reason people hate tumblr 😅 im just a person that said one comment that clearly tickled you. Youre role playing an argument that no ones having. You just made stuff up to be mad about. Strange behavior.

Since you needed to tag me, im here to say im not biting that troll post. Also notice im not on anonymous sending threats?

Seek help. Step back from the key board. Its not that serious, its tumblr.

You're free to leave tumblr at any time if it makes you happy, because something I said clearly tickled you enough for you to show your ass up in my askbox. I like it here, been here for 11 years, and you're not gonna spook me by showing up in my asks like a creepy jack-in-the-box just to tell me "I didn't read shiiiiiit!"

I know you didn't read shit, because you wouldn't say you're not a racist on your blog while defending a system that was created to perpetuate religious and racial segregation if you actually had.

You're going through an awful lot of effort to let me know that you didn't read what I replied for someone who didn't actually read what I replied with. The "it's not that serious" retort in an attempt to minimize my response to you is a very transparent "I don't have a very good response for having my highly-inflammatory commentary publicly lampooned with a single Wikipedia page." If it's not that serious, then why do you feel the need to message me? Are you trying to flex in front of your followers or something? Because clearly you must be new here.

I didn't even know you replied until a few minutes ago because I was watering my apple trees and checking them for aphids. I'm hoping natural populations of ladybugs will keep them away, but I may have to spend some of my disability money on a box of ladybugs to set free on 'em since I haven't seen many this year. The only push notifications I get from trees are usually when the wind kicks up and a branch smacks me in the head, but that's between me and the tree, so I didn't see your ask until I got back inside. I don't blame my neighbors and have them fined for erratic tree motion endangering my hair, but you sound like the kind of neighbor that does.

And "You're role playing an argument that no one's having"? I wasn't the first person that spoke up against you? 3 other people just on the version that I saw reblogged to my dashboard had already replied to you with their well-founded arguments! I was just the first one that highlighted the racist side of the subject and how catastrophically negative the ramifications of them have been over the past century and how you can't be pro-HOA and anti-bigotry at the same time!

All that was in my reply were direct quotes from the Wikipedia page about HOAs and the "History" section, with the text copy+pasted over with its associated links to sources and citations for any users that may require tools like text-to-speech to read small fonts and blocks of text and look at the citations themselves straight from the comment. Did I intentionally antagonize you in my summaries after each paragraph because you were bragging about how you manipulate and control your neighbors using a historically-racist system? You're damned sure I did, because I don't like you and I'm not gonna bend over backwards to pretend to tolerate you or show you the slightest hospitality.

You are the skinhead that walked into my bar, and I'm the bartender telling you to get the fuck out so none of your friends that share your opinions ever think that my space is a hospitable place to revisit. You are sending an ask to someone that firmly believes that every human being on this planet, including you, deserves housing, food, water, a living wage regardless of employment or salary, and medical care given to them as basic rights and dignities. I'd sooner allow OceanGate to fly me into Venus than give you even the slightest inkling that approaching me at all with your ill-informed and discriminatory "opinions" already aired for me to see is something I will tolerate in silence, while I still recognize that you are a fellow human being. All you care about is having an expensive house - you don't give a shit about "community". You don't even seem to know what "community" really means. Your idea of "community" is more apt for the definition of a Potemkin Village.

HOAs were built on racist policies that white Americans couldn't stand to let go with the end of the Jim Crow era, and I am not about making friends with anybody that uses that kind of garbage to manipulate and control the people that are stuck with them as neighbors because "waaaah my property values!" The fact that you aren't incensed about how much religious, queer, and ethnic minority groups get fucked over by HOAs? Means you are not my ally. You are part of a centuries-old problem that I want to see fixed.

I own a home with my family. I pray all the time that my house's value fucking tanks, so that way my property taxes go down and saves me and my family more money every year. I want and hope to live in my home for the rest of my natural life so long as I can help it, and if enshittifying it to the sensibilities of property evaluators to save money works? Great! If you're aiming to keep the cost of your property sky high? Then you're already setting up to be somebody's asshole landlord, and if you love tumblr so much, you probably know how a lot of users feel about landlords these days.

Your beliefs about HOAs, are, in fact, discriminatory toward the real human people that have to put up with them, including you, and you're doing your part in carrying on the legacy of bigotry that HOAs were always intended to carry on. It's interesting how much good you seem to think you're doing while simultaneously treating your neighbors like they're beholden to you and your real estate advisor; that yours is the only property that matters, and they're just slow on the uptake that they have a new idol to genuflect to in order to maintain tranquility in their lives.

See, I don't give ground to bigots like you who use outrageously outdated and viciously discriminatory policies borne out of the Jim Crow era that favor you in order to exert your personal mandates and beliefs over your neighbors and their property when they're doing nothing to put you, your home, or your loved ones in actual danger or risk (and no, honey, lowering your property values because the neighbor isn't mowing their lawn to the right height or is working on a car within your line of sight does not count as putting you in danger).

Just like you can't touch anything related to Harry Potter due to JK Rowling using it as her platform and primary source of funding for her transphobic campaigns, HOAs by their very nature and origin cannot be used "for the greater good" without simultaneously perpetuating the generational violence and hate that it's based on.

I already know that multiple people made extremely good and insightful arguments against your beliefs that HOAs exist for the greater good for your property values just by looking at the notes and comments of the original post after you added your thoughts without even mentioning how HOAs are rooted in racism and bigotry, so I know that the real person here itching for a fight is actually you, because you could've chosen after the 2nd person replied negatively to you to just let the subject drop and let the replies under yours be nothing but an echo chamber for people like me you don't agree with and laugh while you disappear into the horizon with no one the wiser.

Instead, you waited less than 30 minutes after I posted my reply building on theirs with actual cited sources and further information about the actual, factual history of the subject to start getting defensive and in my face while also bragging about not reading any of what I said. It's just nonsensical dumbassery on your part to say "lol I don't read troll posts" on top of bothering to engage with me at all. So, I guess, thank you for being my human prompt for continuing to expand on the subject of Why HOAs Are Bad? Anyway.

See my askbox? You're free to be anonymous on my blog. You're free to send me hate anons if it makes you happy, because there is nothing you can do or say to me, anonymous or not, that will genuinely cow me into behaving the way you want me to, which is why your only recourse is to block me and move on, per tumblr basic etiquette, or just don't engage at all. What are you trying to achieve here by even responding to me? An "I'm sowwy I pointed out that the system you love for keeping your house value sky high and manipulating your neighbors for the sake of your own self-interests is entirely rooted in bigotry and hate because you Sent Me A Message Without Anon Status?" I don't give a fuck about you, @glutenfree-rootbeer! I wouldn't spit in your ass if your guts were on fire! It's your ideals that I take exception to and bothered to engage with.

Your original comment already had plenty of backlash aimed at you specifically well before I chimed in. Tagging you directly only helped me see that you really are looking to die on the HOA hill and need yourself people to try to laugh at and punch down on - so much so that you're the one that can't step back from the keyboard and realize that you're 100% in favor of employing policies that enable racist, sinophobic, transphobic, homophobic, and antisemitic segregation policies and housing restrictions. I didn't even dip my toes into the subject of Redlining, either.

By the by, I actually edited out the multiple times I tagged you directly in my reply, but missed one or two tags by mistake, because I did take a bit to think and went, "Yeah, actually, maybe tagging them personally is taking it a little far. I'll post up my comment, but keep it vague who I'm specifically responding to," But you've been such a regular Johnny-on-the-Spot with getting back to me personally that I have a funny feeling you'd still be here pissing in my ear anyway.

To digress back to a topic that actually matters, you cannot defend HOAs and also claim in public that you are not a bigot or, at the very least, an absolute blight on anyone unfortunate enough to have you as a neighbor that dares to do anything on their property that offends you. You are espousing the use of associations that have only ever been used for the sake of keeping "undesirable" people out of your community or otherwise being beholden to you and what you think is the proper way to upkeep your neighborhood.

If you can't handle having your uninformed and ignorant views that you took actual time to detail under someone ELSE'S post, so stop acting like you're the OP when you're just another commenter like I was, then you're gonna have a bad time when someone like me shows up with more information than you're prepared to respond to.

If my followers, mutuals, or anyone who is fully welcome to reblog this and share with their own circle that are curious about how horrific the history of HOAs and their absolutely nightmarish ramifications on our housing market, national economy, racial relations between white and BIPOC communities, John Oliver did an entire 26-minute segment about it that covers even more than I did:

youtube

@glutenfree-rootbeer, you may wanna just go to lastsqueaktonight.com to watch the Chuck-E-Cheese episode as a special treat if you managed to read this far.

For those who may want to see what started this whole thing, you can see the original post with @glutenfree-rootbeer's take on how HOAs are good along with my and other users' response to how they aren't Here.

And rootbeer? Don't even try to edit it. I took screencaps. They're under the cut ;)

This is word-for-word an exact screenshot of what you touted for posterity, because you strike me as the kind of person that would try to panic-edit and cover their tracks for the sake of plausible deniability if things got too uncomfortable for you <3

#asks #tw: racism #tw: bigotry #HOAs #long post #homeowners associations #fuck HOAs

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sodacansculptures · 1 year ago

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I started following you on Facebook some years ago, and then apparently forgot all about your stuff. It just popped into my head randomly and I wanted to see if you're still active and if you're still making soda can sculptures?

Hi, I apologize, I have no idea when you sent this since Tumblr (at least mobile) doesn't have time stamps, and for whatever reason, I don't get notifications about messages. You're the first person I've heard who has migrated from my Facebook page to my Tumblr, so thank you for joining the blog! Way more commentary here than there where my mom can see.

To answer your question succinctly: I am alive, and that's about the best I can say I've been since covid.

(I have donation links at the bottom, if you feel moved to want to help me.)

The extended director's cut answer:

After I made the Eevee sculpture, grad school ramped up and I figured I'd return to sculpting after I got my degree and settled into a job. However, I graduated in Spring of 2020, so the job I had lined up was withdrawn, and with all the budget cuts and layoffs in my field, I was competing for jobs with people who were trying to reenter the field and had decades more experience than me.

I did 100+ applications (I lost count at 120-something), dozens of interviews (including getting to the final round of all that had such a format--which is a stupid format. You don't need to meet me in a formal pretense 3 times, ask me riddles, have me take multiple hour-long aptitude tests, plus make me travel on my own dime just to tell me "no" and not even send like a "2nd Place Loser" gift basket or accept my LinkedIn request or anything). I got super stressed and super depressed.

I was so busy with trying to find a job and trying to deal with the breakdowns of not finding one. I tried applying in all the fields I was capable of at all levels: executive, mid, and gruntwork. I was turned down from entry level, no-talent-necessary jobs because I was overqualified. I was turned away from the others because of the lack of experience and unprecedented level and caliber of competition.

I was (still am) unable to pay my bills and, when not having breakdowns, I was calling, emailing, filling out applications, etc. for any and all financial aid. It was very arduous work and tedious with all the documentation they wanted from me, hold times on the phone, etc.

I had a non-profit (ADVOCAP) laugh at me when I asked for rent help because apparently they were overwhelmed and I wasn't going to get anything as I didn't have a job or kids and was considered a non-priority. Later when I was working with the ADRC, I asked if my case manager (I applied for disability, but I'll explain in a bit) if she knew of any rent help. She basically scolded me for asking and told me that it was unethical of me to seek that because "that's for people who actually have a chance." People who have jobs, she means. She explained that that money wasn't meant for me, and that was a whole unexpected slap in the face with a bag of dogshit. Didn't realize we had devolved into a utilitarian society quite that quickly.

I started working with FSET (my state's employment training and search help program. I was literally trying everything. Like I had also called my college and emailed all my professors asking for job help, and they had no answers other than like, "look online"). After months of no luck, FSET eventually convinced me to sign with a temp agency.

I worked 2 temp jobs that treated me like garbage (worsening my depression) and also paid me as such. I had lost all my savings to trying to stay afloat and my free time was non-existent, unless you count the hours I'd spend in the middle of the night just walking around my neighborhood listening to music--in an attempt to stop what seemed like endless crying--while I cried.

I tried selling plasma but they rejected me because I couldn't ever get my heart rate low enough, as my antidepressants increase heart rate. I tried going off of them, but I was on them for a reason, so I need to go back on.

When I graduated, I had bought myself a PS4 as a graduation gift to myself. I could afford it and thought I earned it. All the atmosphere of rejection and failure the pandemic created for me and my link to survival (employment should not be tied to survival. I was doing everything right and the system was failing me direly while virtually no one else who shared my experiences understood why I couldn't get a job when "everywhere is hiring" and "nobody wants to work anymore") and I started to hate myself for stuff like gifting myself the PS4. I felt undeserving, like a waste of resources, etc. because those were the messages I was constantly receiving directly and indirectly.

I eventually landed a job in my field and was hired on the spot. I felt like I had hit the jackpot and finally was going to be okay. Surprisingly to everyone in my life, the job made my life even worse.

I signed an NDA due to being horribly abused for the 10 months I was there, so I can't say much more than I just barely paid off my credit card, still had no free time as I was salary and worked nights and weekends in addition to my scheduled hours because the real reason they hired me instantly was not because I impressed them but rather because they were collapsing and desperate for anyone with some level of responsibility and capability. I hated that job, was bullied and abused extremely badly by coworkers and bosses and HR was no help, and when my performance review came back with negative impressions of me when I was sacrificing so much to keep the employment entity alive and functional, I completely broke.

I ended up hospitalized for months for suicide, and part of the NDA included resigning. I never fully recovered and don't think I ever will. I think I've seen and experienced too much to return to the idea that I could be the trailblazer my professors projected me to be (I now think professors don't actually provide an accurate representation of the field and encourage with no basis for their optimism).

The human mind is very easy to manipulate with propaganda, and I didn't catch myself being in a sort of “main character syndrome” and thinking that because I was Valedictorian of my graduating class and that I had so many national and international recognitions, awards, accolades, and qualifications that I was, for lack of a better term, pulling myself up by the bootstraps and going to be rewarded with a promising future where success is not just viable but imminent. I knew the world wasn't fair and that some people could do all the prescribed “right” steps and fail, but the operating paradigm (that had been ingrained in me since childhood from teachers who saw me as bright) I had held told me that I was far too talented and hard-working to fail. I had very little doubt that I wouldn't be successful. I was an ideal, hypothetical model of a pre-successful American worker.

So anyway, I didn't expect to have all the trouble that I faced finding a good job. At the end of the first summer of covid with nothing but rejections and employers affirming to me that there was nothing I could have improved on to get the job other than have prior experience, I was a discouraged worker who didn't even try anymore.

That's when FSET convinced me to do the temp agencies (who dropped me because one employer who was inhumanely abusive and ironically an HR department) gave a bullshit reason about me violating a protocol so they wouldn't have to make good on their promise to hire me after the temp period.

(I had allergies and it was literally the exact week in September when allergies were at their worst. A coworker, who hated me for some reason I never figured out and can only assume was jealousy, reported me for having a runny nose and I was immediately escorted out for bringing covid symptoms into the building. If I didn't go to work any day I had a runny nose, I wouldn't go any day. I take allergy meds literally every day of my life. My parents kept me too clean as a baby or something and didn't let me eat enough dirt, so an allergy panel showed I was allergic to every single common indoor and outdoor allergen).

Back to my suicidal hospitalization: I could say so much on the inpatient part. Suffice it to say I was never given my meds and there were no groups because they were understaffed and constantly wound up/pissed because of the uncooperative patients, so it was like prison where you had to argue with staff to get your basic needs met, and no soft surface existed and the water was always freezing, so it genuinely felt like being locked in a concrete box with no sunlight, no one on your side (they lied and said they called my psychiatrist and therapist. They never did. They also lied about ordering my meds), and no contact with the outside world. It was like a cruelly-designed Mr. Beast challenge with no reward in the end.

My friends said I was messed up for 2 weeks after and scary af because I was in survival-fight mode that would not turn off. I also was too overwhelmed by the outside world when I got out and could only eat pre-packaged snacks for a while because that was all I was used to/comfortable with.

Part of the agreement to let me leave inpatient was to do an intensive all-day outpatient program. I was actually dropped from that by insurance because I had undiagnosed ADHD among all my other issues and couldn't show up on time or sometimes at all. I still don't have my ADHD figured out because I had to convince my psychiatrist to refer me to a neuropsych who booked out for months to test me. I did it and got “Yes, much ADHD. All of the ADHD. Very wow.” So my psychiatrist finally believed me and agreed to start me on ADHD meds.

My psychiatrist and I are still working to find an ADHD med that would work for me. Vyvanse helped for a time, but my body metabolized it too quickly, leaving me with only around 6 functional hours in the day. I'm currently on extended-release Adderall, but so far not much help and there are too many other variables that could be fucking with it, like that my sleep-wake cycle is extremely unpredictable and I have a million appointments every day, so I am constantly sleep-deprived and am actually busier now than I was in grad school or any 8-hour job I worked.

The breakdown I had triggered me to develop fibromyalgia, so that has been a whole ordeal. I'm constantly in pain, it again took many months to see any doctor about it, and the meds take so long to start taking effect that we've been trying since June to find something that works.

The crucible that was my pandemic experience didn't refine me like fire refines gold or whatever the saying is but rather left me burnt, and not in the way that you can scrape the charred parts off of toast but like BURNT burnt (I can't think of an example. Maybe a popsicle. You're not getting that back once you take a flamethrower to it. Plus the stick would crumble into ash. RIP popsicle).

My life lately is a lot of appointments I often miss and have to reschedule, arguments with various agencies and even my doctors, breakdowns, and driving for Uber Eats because no one can fire me (but it pays beans and I get flack from restaurants and customers AND Uber because somehow the driver is the scapegoat for any issue that arises. I was so proud of my delivery aptitude and quality service until the tip-baiters and people being assholes for no reason started hitting me as common and daily occurrences).

A lot of people don't understand how UberEats works, but Uber doesn't even pay their driver enough to cover gas or depreciation on their vehicle for the mileage, much less the value of the driver's time and physical efforts. Tips are literally ⅔ of my income and my income does not cover my bills despite all the time I put in and algorithm I set up for myself that determines which trips to accept/reject for the most profit. It's a very toxic and unprotected form of employment. A lot of people lie that I didn't give them their food so that they can get a refund, but that comes back on me and risks my account being deactivated. It's virtually a fear-based system with some tricky artificial competition that Uber likes to throw in from time to time to convince us to drive for less and less pay.

I've looked into all the alternatives like GrubHub, Spark, DoorDash, etc. but I've been on their waiting lists for years, including GrubHub booting me off their list even though I was always quick to respond to their periodic question of if I still wanted to be on the list.

Between depression and ADHD, I can't work a normal job. I no longer have the capacity to keep a routine and can't show up to things with any level of reliability despite how badly I want to. I also don't have the spoons to deal with working with others or being accountable for tasks that feel--idk how to articulate it, but like--stupid to my autism. If something seems inefficient or not progressive (like not helpful to humanity) to me, I can't get my brain to do it. And with ADHD, if it's not interesting to me/something I am passionate about (I was extremely lucky that learning and receiving the praise from teachers I never got from my parents was my passion that got me so far and through multiple degrees), I can't get my brain to let me do it. Sometimes I just can't do anything, including things I want to do, and simply end up stuck. I wouldn't last in any job that wasn't self-directed and only happening when I have the spoons to be available. My options are very limited. And Uber can be slow. I've had times where I've waited 13 hours and not gotten a single request that wasn't going to cost me money to run.

Uber has some personal difficulties for me. In the summer, I found it a little bit fun, but now that it's cold, my Raynaud's is painful and I don't enjoy having to watch out for people who got their licenses from cereal boxes and don't know how to drive in the snow. It's an unpleasant sensory experience for me to work and honestly risky safety-wise. People don't turn on their porch lights for some reason (I have a headlamp now) and don't salt their walkways, and I'm uncoordinated because my dad didn't throw a ball at me enough as a kid probably, so there's ice, the treads on my boots are shot (and I can't afford to replace them), and I get banged up from falling on concrete.

I have a chiropractor and physical therapist, and they each said even before this that they could see me every day and still have something to work on with me. It's affirming, at least, to hear that professionals can physically feel how in pain my body is and that it's not just me being a baby. Part of it, I'm sure, is that I have PTSD (including from the traumas of my various pandemic experiences) and have horrible nightmares every night where I jerk around a lot in my sleep. I wake up every day feeling like I got hit by a bus, which is also partially why I don't get places on time.

On my own time, I'll spend 2 hours trying to get out of bed both overcoming the pain to move and convincing myself to get the willpower to. It's so much easier to just lie there and accept it, especially when I don't look forward to having to do another day. I don't feel rested because I spent the night working my body and brain, so I'm not sure I ever am rested. I need so much more sleep now, too, with fibromyalgia. This adds to my stress of outpacing my bills and just keeping up with the maintenance of myself and my apartment because that's less time I have to get things done.

I have 4 alarms (phone vibrating plus noise, an earthquake pillow one, my Fitbit vibrating on my wrist, and a Pavlok going all out screaming, vibrating, and shocking me with electricity), and it's still possible for me to sleep through all of them or somehow turn them off while half-asleep and go back to sleep. There are also times where I will be like, “Okay, getting up now,” and then I black out and it's 4 hours later and I missed 3 appointments that will take weeks to reschedule, if the clinic hasn't dropped me for the tardiness and absence. I'm running out of clinics to go to.

On a mental level, I am in a near-constant state of overwhelm that holds me inches from a full-blown, all-day breakdown at any given moment. Something about being so stressed with no relief for years on end has rewired my brain, I think, to make the adrenaline pathway so reinforced and the stress part of the brain overlit/overactive. I don't know how to relax. Doctors keep telling me I need to, especially with fibromyalgia, but I physically cannot seem to do it. I can't focus on anything like movies. Nothing is fun when I have always-present and terrorizing (by threatening my survival) pressure from all these stressors (mainly money. I'm in a constant race against my monthly bills, and each month, they creep closer and closer to outpacing me). I'm never happy to wake up and I'm always low-key scared. I'm desperate for security in any form.

I was so unable to do tasks after my suicidal breakdown that even though my psychiatrist, therapist, and general physician were begging me to apply for disability. I had hoped I just needed a few months of R&R and would be right back to being willing and able to work. That never happened, and it was extremely difficult for me to accept the fact that I was disabled. When I finally did, I begged for months for people to help me fill out all the forms (they were overwhelming me, which is, y'know, kind of a key feature of my disability) and no one did, so I lost months of time there. I eventually just had a moment of conviction or indignation or something that I was able to force myself to do them. I'm still kind of mad at everyone who didn't help.

My therapist actually did her best to help and, when the outpatient hospital ousted me because insurance refused to pay for it anymore, referred me to the county's CCS (Community Care Something-or-other) program. They gave me a worker who allegedly had some psychology- or human services-related degree who would help me function for 1 hour a week. I think the whole program is a farce and despite spending hours on this program, we accomplished absolutely nothing.

The first CCS worker I had was supposed to come over to my place (which had become a mess. I was a messy person before, as my apartment was a graveyard of unfinished projects due to my ADHD), but with my extended burnout, I wasn't cleaning and organizing on the level I used to. So I texted my CCS person a warning that my kitchen table was cluttered. I mean it to mean, “It will take me a minute to clear the table once you get here for your laptop for you to finish the unreasonably long entry paperwork on me, and I haven't gotten the energy to declutter it yet and won't until you get here because my ADHD needs a body double right now. She, for reasons I still don't understand, canceled the visit and never came. When I confronted her about what I meant, she was like…embarrassed to the point of not being willing to work with me anymore. There was a communication breakdown that I couldn't get her to communicate with me and she was somehow scared of how much and how articulated or something I communicated that she shut down.

I understand I “overcommunicate” from the perspective of allistics and neurotypicals [I had a bad childhood and was invalidated and wrongly blamed for things a lot, so I give as much explanation as possible to avoid any misunderstanding and articulate to the point that there won't be any ambiguities and thus can't be twisted into reason to punish me when I've done nothing to earn punishment. My caretakers as a child had their own mental issues that led them to being unreliable/unsafe to me and didn't offer me any feelings of security in relationships, perspective of reality (them taking their anger out on me and telling me everything, including their personal problems, was my fault), and ultimately everyone seems to say they want transparency and communication, but from my experiences and perspective, they don't want that. I have no idea what they really want. I give the level of communication I would want someone to give me and hope that they will just discard the parts they don't need/want, and apparently that's me being a burden or something and a “bad” quality.

Meanwhile, I WISH people would communicate and be transparent with me more. I think I am an understanding person who has done enough work on themselves to not repeat toxic patterns and be a healthy relationship to others. I don't listen to judge but to understand so I can work with the other person to fix any problems and work with what we got, not devalue them and distance myself or abandon them. Everyone on dating apps says they want this, but I've yet to meet someone who does. I think it's that people see this as an ideal but are unskilled at the time to play their role in the situation–both in offering and responding. I think I've put so many years of therapy and introspection into working on myself that others just haven't, so we're simply on different levels. I know I'm not alone in my experiences, but it's very isolating when you don't meet people who have done the same work.

Anyway, I got assigned a new CCS worker and she did not do all that work I described. When I was told I would be assigned to someone else, I specifically asked for one who has seen some shit and that nothing I do or say will move them. They did at least give me someone older with more experience, but she either over- or under-estimated me (I can't discern which). She, working in the same building as my therapist and being basically in at least a good bit of communication with her when I wasn't around, knew that I had a lot of crap going on that I needed more therapy/support/help unraveling and making sense of and peace with than the 45 min/week I got with my current therapist. So she offered to be like a second therapist and said I could tell her absolutely anything.

As the pattern of this narrative likely already cues, it turned out I could not tell her absolutely anything. I was a few months into my transition and no one prepares you for some of the changes. My endocrinologist had only told me, “You might go bald.” I thought my years of research and consulting with transmen in my life had encompassed all I needed to know. However, we sometimes do not know what we don't know and thus don't think to ask the questions we need to ask. As probably an autistic/abused person trait of mine, I speak very clinically and technically. At the time, I had recently been speaking with my therapist about anatomical changes that triggered emotions I was not prepared for. I attempted the same sort of conversation with my new CCS worker, but she yelled me for being inappropriate. Not just scolded but legit yelled, as if I wasn't a full grown adult capable of reason and discussion.

I was confused on what I did wrong, since I thought I was just taking her up on what she willingly offered. I am also a firm believer in the Mister Rogers quote about how anything that is mentionable is manageable (which goes back to why I don't listen to judge but rather to collaborate and also why I see disagreements as us vs. the problem rather than me vs. them. I do not feel the need to yell at someone unless it's like an emergency of some sort and there's a threat that yelling can somehow address and be beneficial to the situation).

From my perspective, I was being shut down and punished/shamed for asking for help with a problem that legit scared me and that I was willing to be vulnerable enough to share. I consider that sort of thing sacred and not something that can be trusted in everyone's hands. But the way she responded, to me, reinforced that I was a person unworthy of help: a message received from my childhood caretakers and all the people who were supposedly there to help me during my pandemic crises.

I couldn't bring myself to trust her anymore or even want to see her again. I'll admit that's a bit of my Emotional Dysregulation Disorder weighing in, but I didn't want her in any intimate spaces I'd need to let her into in order to serve me in her CCS capacity. I had had too many things go wrong lately in that time to not shut myself down to prevent more hurt by simply refusing any future opportunity for more hurt to occur. I was well beyond my limit and it took much convincing from my therapist for me to even give CCS a chance to help me.

Still, I asked to be reassigned to another CCS worker, this time knowing that I could not trust what they claim to offer and just keep the things we work on surface-level functioning--like cleaning my oven or going through the pile of mail I hadn't opened in weeks because their potential contents paralyzed me with fear.

I was denied my request and let go from the program as they felt I had burned through 2 workers and thus proven that I am not a good candidate for the program. I still don't agree with this and argued, but after weeks of (a reasonable number of) periodic emails and voicemails, I never got an email or call back. In hindsight, I maybe should have reported to the county what happened, but it's been like a year.

That mostly brings us back to the present. I have been back in FSET since Spring but just focusing on staying afloat with Uber/working on whatever I can handle. I had a whole researched and designed pitch asking them to fund the several hundred dollars it would be for me to become a mobile notary, but they denied my request as they lack the funds. They also denied my request for new boots for the Uber hazards because they felt it was a fashion thing and not a need. Agencies, or honestly anyone with any power over me, not understanding me even with my articulate, crystal-clear explanations isn't surprising to me anymore. And counterintuitively, more explanation (even from different approaches) does not help and just makes me think I'm weird, which somehow is taken as more cause to not grant whatever request it is I am making in the first place.

So I Uber, I argue with doctors and agencies to try to get my needs met, and I have breakdowns despite my efforts to not. I have always had a massive list of more sculptures I want to make. I do want to get to a point where I can make them someday. I've been waiting on disability for an answer for nearly a year and done all I can to bolster my case with getting doctor testimonies, giving my testimony, noting clinic visits so the person assigned to my case can view the findings of them, getting an ADRC contact to guide me (though looking back, she didn't help at all and it was me searching out and discovering everything on my own while all she did was forward what documentation I had to the state for me)... All I can do is try to survive until they say “yes,” but they usually say “no” first (which is why an alarming number of people file bankruptcy and/or die waiting for a disability decision), especially since mental health reasons are the hardest ones to get approved, and my ADRC contact has been using language such as, “This will make it easier for next time,” and I'm not prepared to hear her tell me she thinks we'll have to file another claim and wait another year, so I don't ask

I feel terrible that I've not been sculpting or posting. I miss engaging the Tumblr community and sharing my art with people who appreciate it (and not tell me it's garbage. Wtf, Grandma).

The fact that I couldn't actually bring myself to commit suicide and still don't even though the extremely-difficult-to-survive--particularly with multiple debilitating ailments--and high cost I incur daily to myself trying to keep my head above water as long as I can, tells me that there is a life better than this that I want to live. I can't fathom for myself anything other than what is current, and I am putting all my chips into believing that I could be wrong and there's a chance all my striving will eventually meet stable ground to rest upon, where I can return to myself and make art again. I hate to think this wreck is who I really am and want to believe this is just who I am under a stupid-amount of pressure that no human should ever have to endure. A lot of people have been quick to point out all the resources, but I guarantee I've pursued all of them hard and received some help but not nearly enough. It's hard to wrestle with the feelings of not being enough to live or not being worthy of living because it's such a struggle for me to throw enough money at bills/expenses to allow me to live. It shouldn't cost someone all of themselves to try (and imminently fail) to earn the allowance to live.

Things like the ACP and student loan freeze (I owe $80,000+ because college is an overpromising, commercialized thing that is more gamble than guarantee) are ending soon (or maybe have ended and I just haven't opened my mail to know), and I'm deathly afraid. Uber isn't enough and on down-times with them and when my various ailments aren't being debilitating, I work on selling things to try to make enough for the month. Obviously I'm eventually going to run out of things to sell.

I'm also fearful that my estimated disability check, if I get one, is only going to be $900/month, because I didn't get enough work experience to be allowed more. I genuinely don't know that that's going to be enough, especially since the price of everything like rent is inflating. I don't know how long I can financially sustain my means of survival. But I'm still doing everything I can. It's jarring to go from decorated Valedictorian to…whatever exhausted mess this is.

My parents stopped asking me months ago how things are going because they know it's never good. They don't have the means to help me as my mom got laid off of work, my dad has dementia and doesn't work, and if I have to live with them again, I would essentially be signing off on my own death certificate because even spending a few hours in that home, with those people, is enough to completely drain me, trigger so much PTSD, grind my mental health down even more with whatever new dynamics and energies they decide to inject in our interactions. I wasn't free to fight the battles I needed to until I moved out into my own private space, and since it is the cheapest option in the entire city and so necessary of a component to my mental health, my therapist identified keeping my apartment as my number one priority. With my mental health, I wouldn't do well at all or be able to get back on my feet if I was homeless.

This turned into a lot more than I intended, but I'm really satisfied that it explains my situation and makes it known that you can do everything right and still lose. The system will cannibalize you if you don't have money to start with and don't have the means to keep it coming. Poverty charges interest and there are no days off, especially if you're disabled. There are no real safetynets and the ones that exist are overwhelmed, underfunded, underpowered, and essentially only serve to make the ones who don't need them feel satisfied (and aren't outraged and pushing for changes) being sold the lie that those who need help have it available to them. Having an inside view of what the experience is, I am apalled at how little systemic support or consideration there is for the disabled, especially since it is the largest minority group that anyone can join at any time.

Some days suck worse than others, like when the weather is so bad that I cannot Uber or when my pain or mental state has been aggravated and I haven't made enough time for self-care so it has decided for me when self-care must be attended to. I wish I could give myself the self-care my mind and body need so I can be healthier, more resilient to setbacks, and feel less pain, but honestly some nights I don't even go to bed because there isn't enough time/I can't afford to not be working or selling things. Society likes to frame self-care as a luxury and only recently (since covid attacked everyone's mental health) did self-care start to be widely accepted as a need. It's just too bad all that rhetoric amounted to is awareness without action. Capitalism still demands and glorifies the nonstop grind, even if it kills us.

Obviously some days are better than others and it feels incredible when I feel a genuine smile spread across my face. I wish it wasn't so foreign of a feeling, but the fact that it is makes it more impactful. I try to give my attention to hope, even if I have no practical basis to believe it exists.

Receiving this ask did ultimately bring a smile to my face because it means I'm still cared for in a world that kicks me to the ground daily and says I don't deserve care. It is so hard for me to even care about myself a lot of the time, with all the negative messages I've internalized from my dominatingly high ratio of experiences that are rejection or failure in some form. Ultimately, we all just want to be loved. Thank you so much for reminding me that pain isn't all there is for me (it's easy to get sucked into that mindset after years of nearly everything gutting me. I often fail to even notice myself falling into it and being consumed by it).

I know I don't owe anyone an explanation for my absence and that no one is mad at me or blaming me for it that I would need to provide some sort of justification. But I wanted to communicate with you all because I love you. I genuinely mean that.

I still think about this from time to time and I still want come back to making and sharing sculptures and just having fun hearing all the things you have to say about them and how delighting, inspiring, or entertaining you find them. I consider the ability to do that and this Tumblr page to be one of my greatest things I've made. I don't care about money and despise that money dictates virtually every aspect of my life in the worst way. Community, creativity, and self-improvement motivated by joy/love rather than profit/fear are of infinitely more value to me. I'm still pursuing that dynamic in the end through all of this.

By no means is anyone obligated to donate to me, but if you can afford to and want to, I'll post my payment platform things below (some may still have my birth name attached). Any amount helps and Lord knows I dove for a penny on the ground last week.

If you can't donate but still want to help, reblogging can help no matter how little reach you feel your blog has, and I also would appreciate words of encouragement or support. I also just want you to know that if you've been reading this far, I really appreciate that you care enough about me to do that.

All of my love,

Stan

(They/Them)

PayPal:

@Stanwagner09

Venmo:

@asclw7643

Zelle:

[email protected]

#Thank you everyone for your support #and thank you chronically-issy for checking in on me #chronically-issy

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silvershayde · 7 months ago

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Sharing cus tbh I feel lonely rn and I'm very confused? Feeling s bit uninspired

So today (last day of classes before mid term break) I had an eye appointment and they said my eyes produce less tears, Haven't read up on it but they also mentioned technology and how it causes headaches

I'm almost done with school so I actually have soooooooo much free time sans the studying I gotta do, but I also wanne reduce my technology usage cus I have a crippling dependency ever since I had to revise my other hobbies to not get out of track with classes, but just thinking of picking up those hobbies again feels daunting and like, I won't be able to feel the love I had for them which makes me sad :(

I already crochet and have books to draw in, but writing for fic has always been online cus it's just easier to save and preserve my writing that way (plus more secure in my case) than to write ideas in a book and run the risk of them getting lost. But I really wanna cut down tech usage so instead of just writing out the plot in full I'll use paper and pen to write out the outline of my story plots and then make notes of the misadventures or side quests the characters go through and the characteristics of the characters

Honestly, I'm talking about this to someone else cus I kinda want an alternative perspective? I realised that school has made me so dependent on someone telling me what to do and I hate it, so I wanna try and practice independence more, especially planning how I wanna do my hobbies

okay, so as someone who has written stories both online and physically in a book, i was more productive writing it down on paper. sadly i did lose the book, but that was more because i did move around quite a bit when i was younger and it was hectic and not because of negligence on my part (then again i am also known for losing things but usually i eventually find them. and i actually don't know if i would read it back or not i was like 12 when i wrote it lolol)

I don't know too much about less tears can do to your eyes other than your more prone to have irritation and straight up scratches on the eyeball (i know this because my optician told me i had this but then didn't tell me what to do about it - still haven't done anything about it but i know eyedrops help)

honestly do what you truly think is best for you. if you're struggling with what to choose i suggest doing a pros and cons list and put em side by side. that's what i do when i'm truly indecisive and other's opinions don't really help. but! i will say that even if indecisive and asking others opinions, usually you lowkey know deep down what you wanna do and all it takes is someone else's thought process to know if you would fully go for it.

if you wanna cut down tech usage, instead of going cold turkey and making it harder for yourself, use night shift/night light (or whatever is your device/phone's equivalent) so you can reduce blue light at night. I know that androids have this black and white thing that gets enabled at a time for you. ALSO!! i cannot stress this, disable notifications. You'd be surprised about how much less you'd go on apps and stuff when notifs be off. But this is all the stuff that's worked for me personally, you can try these out to see if they work.

eye strain is a very real thing. technology/screens/whatever are usually what causes this and even looking away from a screen and doing something else can make it worse if it gets that bad. when you start to get that annoying thing at the back of your eyes or you feel a light ache around your eyes, know your slowly starting to experience eye strain and you need to relax them. having dry eyes i think make it worse because of the scratching/irritation it can cause and because if your eyes are dry enough, your ability to BLINK would start to get affected. and that's just a long day

about your other hobbies, i get it feeling daunting if you havent dabbled in a while, i feel it whenever i get back to drawing after a long while. all i can say to that is slowly ease yourself back into doing it. start small, because if you go in acting as if there has been no time between the last time you've participated in your hobbies, you could start being overly harsh on yourself if it isn't going as smooth as you wanted. but trying it out, is better than not at all. and it'd help reduce screen time

#silveranswers #mutuals #i hope this helps you come to a decision #honestly i do get where you're coming from #there isn't anything bad about reducing screen time if anything i say go for it #just make sure there's something there to replace it otherwise it'd become unnecessarily difficult to stay away from it #strong power to you <3

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obaewankenope · 2 years ago

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are you ever gonna thank donors?? seriously its endless e-begging no working with YOU. when are you getting an actual job? to pay your bills??

I do try and thank people for helping me survive. I haven't in the past week or so because I've been very distracted by injury, meds issues, health problems, and the disruptiveness of living with a dysfunctional parent whom I essentially have to manage.

I would love to get a job and work but I have chronic health problems and, oddly enough, there's no employer willing to hire anyone in my town who would miss large amounts of work because of this. On top of that, I essentially look after my mother 24/7 because she needs a minder since she's dysfunctional to the max. I also don't drive because, again, mobility issues.

So, whilst I understand, anon, that you may be one of the people who has generously donated to help me manage unexpected bills, the cost of vet fees and cremation costs that weren't covered by the insurance because it didn't cover anything in the event of death, and car troubles (to name a few), I'm also aware that you may just as likely be a troll.

If you are someone who donated, here is me thanking you for doing so and telling you that I greatly appreciate you doing so because it helped me immensely.

If you are a troll, you need to find something more productive to do in life than bothering people for your own gratification.

Now, thankfully, I'm not horribly affected by anon messages of hate or nastiness or the like. Thankfully.

But, and this is the most important thing right now, you can't actually make me feel worse about having to beg for donations so I can survive. I already dispise that I have to do so, many times more than I ever thought I would, and I already hate that finding employment for me is an impossibility because I cannot work to the pattern required for steady employment.

You don't achieve much by sending this ask, anon, except to remind me to thank people more often for their kindness. But if you expect me to be on my hands and knees, screeching out my thanks when I'm dealing with being injured, grief from the unfair death of a puppy, financial difficulties from void insurance, and motor related problems, then you're a bit out of luck.

Because I have a finite amount of attention span and focus, and a lot of it is stolen by physical and mental health problems exhausting me. What remains is then taken up by my mother, the animals we have (most of whom I look after even though they are hers) and whatever else remains like cleaning (if and where possible).

I apologise that I don't remember to thank people as often as I should. I apologise that I see a notification, think "I'll thank them in a moment!" and then forget because something else takes priority like eating or feeding animals that depend on me.

I don't apologise, however, for being alive and I refuse to apologise for needing help to survive. Because I won't be made to hate myself any more than I do regularly because I have to ask for assistance.

If I didn't have health problems, if I didn't have a mother who relies on me to be her functionality and time keeper, perhaps I wouldn't need help from strangers on the Internet. Perhaps I would be able to work a steady job and be able-bodied and function in an ableist world that penalises otherness and disability.

But I don't.

I'm disabled.

I'm the primary caregiver to my mother who isnexperiencing more and more memory problems every day.

I'm the only child of hers that lives full-time with her and sees her deterioration that I try not to panic about because panicking won't help.

I am trying to survive and sometimes I don't have the focus, time, or energy, to thank everyone who helps me to do so as often as I wish, or you think I should. I can only apologise for that. I won't apologise for prioritising trying to survive however.

If you're a troll, enjoy this response. I'm sure you'll mock it.

If you're not a troll, but someone who donated to help me and feels like I haven't shown you enough gratitude for doing so, I hope this response conveys that I do appreciate it. I'm just trying to survive and, unfortunately, that's meant I haven't expressed that gratitude as much.

In conclusion, have a roaching Lady who has never roached with us before. She's at least happy and feels safe, which is something at least. I hope you consider this an expression of my gratitude for your generosity if you have donated to help me (and my mother and animals) survive.

#Anon #Anon talk #Kat replies #Kat answers #Long post #I don't know if this is a troll or not #I don't much care if it is #To those who donated and see this #I thank you for your kindness

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rinion-b · 2 years ago

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Despite several attempts, I find myself unable to get back into playing Arknights regularly. I love the game, I love the characters, and despite my qualms with the VN genre I do tend to enjoy the story, but there's just am immense barrier to entry called Being A Mobile Game.

So.

What's the deal with mobile games?

At a base level, there's the issue that I get burnt out from some combination of frustration and overstimulation when confronted with endless daily missions and red notification dots. Arknights is actually not that bad with these, and you can safely ignore the News/Updates panel after your first login each day (though i would Vastly Prefer it if I could simply disable that until there is actual New things to read that I have not seen before).

Mobile games also have the other barrier to play that they require either a physical extra device, or an emulator.

I barely use my phone.

I don't enjoy how the game controls on PC with a mouse.

So the majority of my desire to play gets eaten up by the dread of not liking either the environment (phone) or controls (PC), and then the rest by the ever-present need to manage Sanity and dailies.

And this ties back into the trend in game design that has been present for a while and just continues to get worse, one that live-service games and particularly those on mobile platforms cannot avoid. You aren't expected to play the game on your own schedule, on your own time. You're expected to play the game for an hour a day, for the rest of the time it exists on your phone.

Far be it from me to call Hypergryph a greedy company. I know so many that are far worse, and all of the merchandise I have physically and all that I see them do for their fans and in their game design shows that, despite this being a product at the end of the day, they do care. But they are a company, and a company needs to turn a profit, and to turn a profit on mobile means to play with the tools that are proven effective.

For every player who, like me, stops playing the game, or has never spent money on either the gacha system or the cosmetics shop (it's been really hard sometimes, to be fair), there are several others who spend a bit of money here and there to enjoy the game a bit more.

Side note, I don't actually have an issue if I sink a couple hundred into the game itself one day. It's been well worth my time despite these complaints, I just enjoy the challenge of playing without spending a cent. That exu skin pack for global, though...

Anyway. This is all to say things that have been said before, and I don't really have a grander point to make other than "I really wish I could still enjoy Arknights to the point that I could play it daily". But I can't. Neither as a game dev, nor as a player, nor as the writer that I was back in college. It sucks, but that's just how it is. Forcing myself to log in is just going to make it worse.

I'll probably hop in here and there at a whim still, but I don't see myself ever getting back to logging in 7 days of any week ever.

I really do enjoy all of the fan-created posts I see from the AK community, and for what it's worth IS has been some of the most fun I've had in the game, but even with the cool events or the operators I'm looking forward to...

Arknights is still A Mobile Game.

Anyway.

Give me more Frostleaf content if you want me to play. When is she gonna get her Alter? Where can I buy her headphones? What's her number so I can ask her out for a drink? What are those old songs she listens to, I'm really curious. Frostleaf Module where?

#arknights #game dev talk #me as rambling #i will actually pay real money for frostleaf content hypergryph istg

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morningsound15 · 2 years ago

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Hey just dropping in to say I'm rereading winged cupid painted again and it really means a lot to me. I'm also a writer so I know it always feels a lil weird to have people focusing on super old work (my ancient ass PJO and X-Men fics from high school 8+ years ago somehow still get more engagement than anything else lol) but I appreciate the care put in doing research about blindness, and the little things like frustration with people moving stuff around or being touched randomly. This is stuff people complain about all the time in blind circles I run in, like just yesterday on this discord server I'm in. The writing is gorgeous and I love the way you write the characters. I was never into the 100 really but am always starving for decently written disabled characters that don't fall into the magical/medical fix, "O Woe I A Blind Character Written By A Sighted Author Am Doomed To A Life Of Misery How Am I To Exist With This Cursed Affliction", or just generally painfully stereotypical with face touching and the like. As I said, never super into the 100 for its own right and consequently the characters have taken on a life of their own in my head, they feel like your characters, really. Anyway, I'm rambling but this story is very close to my heart and while I know it's likely a bit too old to be something that'll continue, I'd even love to commission something from you if that's ever feasible. Even if not, your work means a lot to me and I'm probably going to go and comment chapter by chapter as I reread.

thank you so much for this ask! I'm sorry I didn't see it when you first sent it, I've been on the app and you know how weird the app can be with notifications.

I really appreciate you sending this! That story is something that I wrote a really long time ago, it was one of the first long multi-chapter fics I ever attempted, and though I can't necessarily speak to how well it holds up as a piece of writing (my writing style has changed so much since I wrote it that reading it is like reading something by a different author), I am really so very glad people still find something meaningful in it. Realistically I don't think I'll ever finish it, I'm just too far removed from the mindset I was in when I started to write it, and I'm too distant from the characters to satisfyingly wrap up their stories. But knowing that you found it after all these years and enjoyed it really means a lot to me.

Readers who find old stories, even old unfinished ones, and take the time to message and/or comment about them are the backbone of fandom, really truly! Thank you for the kind words.

#anonymous #asks #winged cupid painted

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tenok · 3 months ago

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Unfortinately this "how should I notice" stuff is also the same thing that lets people parasite on you (I'm speaking of your typical "man of the house spends all day gaming because how should he know there's stuff he needs to do if women didn't tell him!"). Can you imagine mental load that lays on the shoulders of person that's forced for the functionality of household where they live with other capable adults talk in plain steps every time something needs to be done, be it car washing or dishes or cleaning cat litterbox? When you can't be sure that if you forget something or won't feel like doing something other people in the house will do this stuff on their own, without you checking on them as if you were their mom?

So lets make set of exmples back, yeah?

If someone always does this one thing and suddeny they stopped — ask why (I don't care how much of imposter syndrome prevents you from this! make pre-writen DMs and have them in folders!)

If someones always does this one thing, ask them how they do it! Why they do it like this! Explain to them that they can go for a trip one day or be ill or just don't feel like it and you want to be able to step up!

If something seems to never be in need of fixing (your floors always miraculosly clean, clothes dry, there's food in fridge) — there's no magic cleaning fairy there. Ask other people "was it you work?". Say thank you. Say "hey it looks like you always do this thing tho, how about we share this chore?" BEFORE they'll be forced to go to you and ask when they already at point of breaking/burn out.

Ask if they want to change routine from time to time even if it looks like everything okay. Maybe they didn't know routine can be changed!

Be fucking aware of your surroundings! If here's car in need of washing or dirty dishes or smelly litterbox, with the possibility of 99% it need to be fixed, no matter by who, so if you see this and have time/resources — do it!! Just do it!!! "But I don't notice" — start to notice. Make it your priority. Make notifications, put stickers on walls, write in your hand. "But ADHD" — I have ADHD too. There is the ways (yes there are cases where disability is just too strong, but even there some accomodations can be made. Pay your friend in beer and pizza so they will clean your mess from time to time). If you're new to this, start with asking questions, but again, try to not make all decision making responsibility of other person.

I can't believe it need to be said but: be mindful of your friends and how they interact with you?? See if someone always write first to you. Write first to them from time to time. If someone always plans your outings, ask them if they want let you plan for once. If someone always send you memes, show them meme back. Don't let some part your relationships be just universal truth never in need of checking, chances are that person that Always Does This Thing thinks that this thing is nice and want be treated nice too, or at least acknowledged for this.

That being said, show people that you NOTICE. Say thank you. Compliment them (but please for the love of god, without "haha I couldn't ever wash dishes, how lucky I am to have my roommate" because yes this will reinforce idea that this roommate needs to clean dishes always or else). And be open to discussion. *Start* with "Sorry I'm such a person I can be absent-minded and don't notice some stuff, so I'll be really grateful if you'll say that so and so needs to be done. Please, I really don't want you to do everything there, feel free to bug me!" or "I really value our friendship but I can't read hints and clues, if you ever unhappy of feel like I'm slacking in this friendship, say it plainly, and if you can't lets discuss how we can make it easy for you, ok?"

If you haв some sort of talk, if you come to some form of agreement, again, stick to this! Don't make it into "for a week after we talked I'm present and ater that we go to how things were before"!! It makes any communication absolutely useless!!

Look, I'm not shaming anyone, but there we are, queer and neurodivergent household, all for inqlusivity and open communication, and suddenly if I stop doing the dishes or cleaning litterbox for any reasons it's a "oh we didn't notice" or "what, it wasn't your plan to pile dishes for three days? Well how should've I know!". Or, on more positive note, there's some friends that knows that I can feel insecure about being the one that always talk more and about more random stuff, and even if they just not the kind of people to do the same they made a point of saying from time to time how they appreciate of me fulling their DMs with stuff through tha day so they can have some kind of distraction from work. It works wonderful!

So yes. Please. Show initiative. NOTICE STUFF. Don't make it all a responsibility of oher person and than say "well it's all because they don't know how communicate, I'm not at fault there". If someone needs to lears the rules of how approach things with you, you should learn how approach them too!

I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW

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redemptioninchaos · 3 months ago

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I don't know why this happens so often

Why are people so afraid of reblogging things? This is literally the reblogging website

I be seeing art posts with like 20 likes and not a single reblog

I made an addendum to my rules that basically said "If you like the art I reblog without reblogging, I'm stealing something out of your house!"

I'm not playing anymore bruh

This happens again, your towels? Gone

Your eating utensils? Gone

Your DVD box set of Friends? Gone

I asked somebody directly why he only liked some art I reblogged, and he told me that it just didn't occur to him that he could

Like, is this a widespread phenomenon? Do people just not know they can reblog art?

Sure, liking gives it more notes, but if I'm keeping it a bean, likes do jack shit

The average artist will want as many people to see their art as possible, which is only possible through reblogging

If artists didn't want their art reblogged, they'd either just not post it or disable reblogs

I don't post my own art because I don't make it, but like, I sort of don't want to learn how to make it because it'd just feel like nobody appreciates it if I spend three days working on something just for it to get a few likes and no reblogs

If I ever learn how to make art, Tumblr probably will never know

It's not even just with art

I reblog ooc posts all the time and I get notifications saying that a mutual or something liked it

But that's it

All they'll do is like it

If you're gonna hop in my notifications, least you can do is reblog it to show appreciation to OP

I've literally soft blocked someone because all she did was like my posts, never reblogged them, and she would like damn near every OOC post I made

I'm flooded with notifications from this same person, and yet not a single reblog

I reblogged my promo to get more exposure, and all she did was like the promo without even considering reblogging it

I'm like, "How do you not know that this is meant to be reblogged???"

I've seen this happen more often with RP blogs

If I'm mutuals with a personal blog, they'll normally have no problem reblogging whatever it is they like

Help me understand what's going on, folks

0 notes

nazmazh · 11 months ago

Text

Gods, snapchat seems to be an app focused around making the most purposefully infuriating design choices for their users:

Shitty AI thing pinned to the top of your friends list. Unremovable by any means unless you pay for a snapchat subscription

Buzzing notification whenever anyone in a conversation starts typing, meaning a constant pattern of unnecessary notification at any time

Not only is the main page filled with content you haven't specifically requested (A Meta staple at this point, realistically), but it's so easy to accidentally click on to something by accident, which the shitty algorithms will then decide that you must clearly enjoy

On that - So many things they try to send directly to you and notify of that you have not specifically opted into. The only way to disable this is to apparently disable all notifications from the the app period, which kind of defeats the purpose of using it for messaging with your friends.

If, heaven-fucking-forbid, you don't immediately turn your gaze towards something you've been notified of, it will spam you with reminder notifications until you do.

This includes if you dismiss shitty random story notifications from random assholes that you don't know and have never interacted with that otherwise, as stated above, apparently cannot be disabled

I don't even know how I managed to disable the random-ass friend suggestions and got it to stick - I've never found the setting sequence I used again to pass along to other people who want to get rid of it. They probably eliminated the pathway during one of their updates or something, but because mine was already disabled, it might have avoided being turned back on or something. If they reactivated it at any point, I would have been fucking fuming!

In short, if there were literally any other app that I could use for sending/receiving group chat messages or quick random nonsense pictures from friends and family, and I could convince them to move to that app, I would fucking drop snapchat in a fucking heartbeat. I would purge every trace of it from my phone and block it from ever being suggested to me again.

Meta seems to be determined to make their products as unpleasant and user-unfriendly as possible these days (Yay, enshittification...)

But snapchat? It's like they dialed the piss-off factor up to over 9000 just to see how much bullshit people will tolerate before leaving, despite inertia and other pressures/factors that otherwise keep them there.

#fuck snapchat #fuck it so very very much #and fuck every product meta makes/runs these days #Why the fuck can't they just let you control your own experience and interactions with/within their apps?#Gods... as a Millennial who's been on social media for far too fucking long #I am just fucking ready to throw the whole concept out and never interact with it ever again #Corporate mentality has enshittified everything to the point where even new “just like [_] classic!” or supposedly better ones #don't even hold any appeal for me - Because either they'll be shitty in new ways #or they'll eventually head down the path of enshittification and end up here with everything else

0 notes

spurnedadulthood · 2 years ago

Note

hello, could you please set your queue to every 6 or 12 hours? to have it go off every hour is clogging my dash. not to be rude your message could be read in an unfavorable light the way you point out that only three muses connected with kensuke while you go and take your partners for granted. it was borderline passive aggressive if not downright guilt trip and it might not be your intention. i’m sure you are a wonderful person with many ideas if given the chance and it might be the wording in that post. i wish you the best of luck

First of all, I apologize for clogging your dash, but at the same time, you could always just unfollow if it bothered you that much? Like, due to the fact differing timezones is a thing, I wanted to ensure more people see my post so they can decide from there whether or not they want to unfollow/block me.

Second of all, I've been gone for a long while, so like I already said, everyone I was writing with either broke mutuals with me during my absence, became inactive, deactivated, or retired from the RPC entirely, so I don't know what you want me to say? Besides, I think you're overestimating how large my writing pool is, because not only is it rare for my threads to ever advance past two notes, it's not as though I had people clamoring to write with me; in fact, getting more interactions on here has often been akin to pulling teeth for the last two years and I'm not joking when I say the last notif I ever got was in February 2, so I have no idea what 'roleplay partners' I managed to take for granted, when really, it's the other way around.

I mean, you can say 'lack of activity doesn't reflect interest' all you want, but besides my own reblogs, my activity page literally shows two other notifs, and I can't even scroll down it... because nothing past it exists, and most of my followers I do have are inactive, because again, I have not been here.

Like, the whole reason I ended up vanishing from Kensuke's blog to begin with was because I was disheartened by how hardly anyone interacted with him and that has sadly been a reoccurring thing that happens again and again. Seriously, not only do the starters I write for people tend not to get replied to, I frequently get flaky muns essentially wasting my time and getting my hopes up for interactions... so when you consider how Kensuke is a character from a very niche series, how unwelcoming the RPC is towards characters from less than mainstream fandoms, and how dead tumblr RP has recently been, it's only natural for him to only have three bonds at best...

I mean, you might not like it, but it's the factual truth? And I'm not the type to really sugarcoat things, so as far as I'm concerned, actions speak louder than words; therefore, I don't really get the sense many are still interested in Kensuke as a muse. In fact, maybe I'm missing something here, but I'm genuinely confused on how it's guilt-tripping/passive-aggressiveness when I say that as a result of a lot of people moving on from tumblr roleplay (whether it's because they deactivated or retired from the RPC) and people I've been writing with understandably blocking me, Kensuke no longer has a lot of muses left that have a bond with him... so if people end up taking that the wrong way, then I don't know what to tell them, other than the fact I have legit been gone for a long time, so not many of my old roleplay partners are still around?

Either way, I do not appreciate the fact you didn't even bother to address this privately with me and forced me to unnecessarily post this on the dash where everyone could potentially see, so until further notice, I'm disabling the anonymous function... because I really would not prefer dragging this out longer than it has to be dragged out. I will, however, do as you request and space out my queue to post every 6 hours, but next time, please message me privately if you have any concerns.

#anonymous #█ ▌⟨ ❀ ⟩ ❛ out of golden apples. »»#[ this is the last time i'll be addressing this public-ly as hiding behind anon is REALLY not the best way ]#[ to bring something to my attention ]#[ like... i'm trying to see where you're coming nonny from but at the same time i don't think you're really taking into account ]#[ how hard it truly is to muse a character from an obscure fandom ]#[ not only have i constantly been shafted i had people i was writing disappear on me ]#[ receive little to no attention when i reblogged memes/posted starter calls ]#[ that after a while it's hard to really exhibit toxic positivity... especially when you consider how hard i truly had it ]#[ compared to people who muse popular characters ]

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mortimermcmirestinks · 10 months ago

Text

got mildly annoyed about it (my bad)

made a couple of silly meme polls about it (I thought they were funny but not a lot of other people did)

handful of people reblogged my silly meme polls (thanks)

someone accuses me of making a push poll (true) and implies that I was trying to hide it or be sneaky about it (false)

every single human to ever exist (it's true I counted) reblogs the person comparing me (a queer leftie who likes memes) to republican lawmakers (famously also queer lefties who like memes)

I'm like "okay, this is is becoming increasingly less fun and goofy, every time someone reblogs this and says that I'm being an evil manipulator it makes me increasingly frustrated" and muted all notifications for the biggest posts I made about it (muting notifications is not something I usually do for posts but I don't like disabling reblogs)

at least a couple of different people proceed to send me asks about it

I answer them like "cmon man let me rest" and just kinda ramble a bit

the nightmare is over and I go back to my coffin

I have a stupid fuckin idea for a terrible drawing

I rise from the coffin, draw the picture, and post it

I draw the fairy and the walrus well but I draw the walrus's hipster newsboy flatcap poorly

everyone thinks it's a beret

an abrupt incursion of jamie hyneman has occurred

I see a double-digit number in the reblog field

now I am afraid

I feel like I've had the most truly inane rollercoaster relationship with the walrus vs fairy meme

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 4 years ago

Text

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.)

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not.

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look," you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him. First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions.

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him.

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

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