#gonna disappear and would do it again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mokeonn · 6 months

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So I heard that Tumblr is slowly being abandoned (they seem to be laying off a majority of their staff and keeping a skeleton crew) and we might be nearing the end of this webbed site. I don't think it's currently worth panicking over, but I'm definitely going to start making that neocities website.

I'll make a post soon about other places where you can find me. Unfortunately, I've spent quite some time these last couple years getting rid of a majority of my social media because most platforms were bad for my mental health. I do not plan on going back to these platforms, so if tumblr goes down, I'm going to be only on non social media.

Maybe if one of the new social medias being created, actually take off (like bluesky or pillowfort or whatever else these days) I might join, but if not I might be entirely on personal websites, patreon (I will start posting regularly like a blog and make more free posts), some old websites I deleted but not because I hated them (such as ko-fi, which I deleted due to inactivity) and possibly furaffinity. I'm still on the fence about furaffinity. I might also finally start using my toyhouse but that is an oc sharing website and not much of an art sharing website.

I really do hope Tumblr doesn't go down, this is my one social media and if it does go down I am going to lose nearly all of my audience. I can make do by creating a personal blog and using whatever I have left in terms of "can post my art there and people can find me", and it won't discourage me from making my personal projects. I can make do, and I will make do, but I don't really want to make do.

Anyways, that's all I have to say right now, I'll make a post later once I set up some alternative sites to find me at, but for now I want to give the heads up that if I'm gone, you're not gonna find me on twitter, Instagram, or whatever third option there is. I'm likely going to just make do, be offline more, and likely just become active on the discord servers I'm on.

#simon says #long post #i think #it looks long on mobile #anyways there it is #I'm gonna have to start learning html #im also really sad that i hate making videos so much because I probably would just go on youtube #but I know from experience that I am not becoming a youtuber entirely because I fucking hate making videos that much #i get tempted quite often to become a nice little art youtuber or go into a niche art video subcategory #personally fight against the things I hate about youtube by not doing those things #but I just hate video making too much to do that #i do NOT like my voice enough to edit it #i might consider live streaming again since I used to live stream but also hnng nah im not sure #I prefer live streaming to video making because I hate making scripted videos and I love the live aspect of streaming #but also do I really WANT to stream again or do I just want an audience from a platform where it's very easy to build an audience?#that one is gonna be up in the air for a while tbh #streaming is currently in 'im not sure how i feel about it' limbo and it may never leave #if I do decide to start live streaming again you will hear about it on my sick ass personal blog I have to code #because I'll probably unravel those mixed feeling and come to a decision likely long after tumblr disappears lmaoooo #edit:#also I would rather eat my arm off than ever go back to tiktok so rule that one out forever

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buttertrait · 5 days

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the big simblr vs small simblr anon going around is literally exactly the reason that i keep turning anon asks off because while yes there are some sweet anons out there, the vast majority of anons just want to say unnecessary stuff and hide behind anon. like it sucks that the bad out weighs the good but it does unfortunately

#tbf i dont get many asks as it is #but i turned my anons off literally the day before i saw this ask going around #and while i doubt they would have sent it to me im still glad i dont have anons on right now #just bc like i said there are so many negative or annoying anons #and its such a shame because it really does outweigh the people on anon who are super sweet #honestly i think im just gonna keep anon asks off i dont get enough asks to worry about it anyway #again im sorry to the nice anons out there #just i swear whenever i do have anons on i get such like unnecessary comments #and it seems like anons are just out of hand at the moment #idk #butter's thoughts #no idea where my tag disappeared to it doesnt show up in my tags / quick tags anymore

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merkerlerspeaks · 4 months

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on a scale of 1-10 how silly would it be to ask folks to pray that I find a piece of jewelery I lost. It's not particularly valuable monetarily but its very precious to me and Im afraid I lost it outside of the house. I cant find it anywhere it should be. It could be in the pocket of the either the pajama pants or outside pants I wore the last day I saw it (the 19th) or it could be buried under something in my old bedroom, or it could be at my friend's moms house or somewhere between here and there. Trying not to stress over it but its just become precious too me.

#Its just one of those shark bracelets from one of those scam ocean charity sites #But I have used it as a grounding tool to help me focus when I need to get my head on straight so its been through a lot with me #a replacement just wouldn't be the same either plus I don't want to give more money to scam charities than they already get #and writing this out is helping me calm down about it #as Im writing I realize that I tend to freak out a lot when I realize that something precious is missing and can't chill out until I find i #and thinking about it. I know exactly where that stems from #not something I ever considered before but a lot of things precious to me got burned when I was little #and at one point I repressed the memory and would search for things that got burned up for hours because I had no idea where they went #but yeah anyway Im gonna try to chill. It'll turn up Lord willing #Im just scared I lost it in my friends old house or somewhere between here and there and I'll never see it again #I do not like it when things like that disappear I do not like it at all #I just worry about all the possible places it could be lost forever in or where it could have gotten ruined #I also just have ADHD forgetfulness so I get paranoid I left it like in a walmart bathroom or something #I know I didn't but I have almost lost things that way before #Like even if it is just gone and lost forever I just want to know where it is #merkerler speaks #prayer request #bc I am spazzy about these things #need to be careful about it bc it mirror's some of my dad's OCD tendencies

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ouchhq · 4 months

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am i so hard to care about?

#i need to vent and i know u guys cant stand me because i can feel it (and certainly from the anon hate) but i think im gonna have an ulcer #if i dont put this out somewhere #SH s*icide tw !!!!!#i need some advice or opinions because i feel like im losing it #i dont understand why my friends cant care about me #i know !!! i know i seem out of touch and insane because i say this so often and the question to someone reading would come natural: maybe #it is just ur perception…. maybe u suck ass as a friend too #and i do ponder about that!!!!!! i take those possibilities into consideration i do. and i genuinely dont think i suck as a friend. i always #check in. if they seem off i ask how they feel. i ask updates on their stuff. i dont think i deserve this tbh #but especially when i am struggling they just disappear #like even when i reach out and let them know im doing bad. they clearly read my measages and choose to ignore them #these are supposed to be my best friends #these days ive been so bad. and trigger warning again #i just feel so suicidal and i have been hurting myself in the desperate attempt to cope and manage these thoughts #and i dont tell them these things #i dont share the details because 1) it is too much to dump on someone and 2) they dont show any interest even on the surface level of my #problems so i just wouldnt tell them the deeper issues #i am just in so much pain. and i also feel a lot of anger because of their behavior. i feel so so hurt by it. so many years of this going on #of them just not even acknowledging my struggles while i was in the midst of them and trying still to support them and be there for e #whatever they had going on. and getting nothing in return #i hate that i feel so angry but i do. and ive been swallowing this anger and pain for so long i feel it eating my insides #even my therapist doesnt understand why i am friends with people that dont care about me #i dont know what i should do #i want to say something #actually i already talked about this to one of them one year ago exactly and i told her all these things and she just said she didnt know #why i was ignored. and then still kept being a part of it #the thing is i am so upset and my mental health is so so so bad. i am supposed to spend new years eve with them in two days but i dont know #how i can do that feeling like this #but if i speak to them about it i think it will also ruin the mood #if someone has any thoughts or advice it would be very welcome….

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albatris · 2 years

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hewwo

I'm revisiting rental car book one and trying to muddle my way through the whole thing in order

felt like posting the little starting part <3

chapter one opening!!!! the very start of our silly miserable little trilogy :3 I'm not sure if it's too slow or not.........

ahoy taglist! @nicola-writes @saturniiforme @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @softboiled-doomdesire (new username? :O!) @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @flapuflapu @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @itisi-asimplegay @constellationof0rion @writing-is-a-martial-art and also @incandescent-creativity if you're interested, bc of your 👀👀👀👀's in the replies hehe :3

Nat Finch blinked awake.

He was slumped forward in the driver’s seat of his rental car, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his body aching like he hadn’t moved in centuries. His feet were bare. His throat burned. His head throbbed. Curled over his shoulders was the familiar softness of the blanket from his back seat, the one he’d been meaning to give to the Larsons for two weeks now. A deep night breeze leaked through the slightly-open window to his right, the cold gnawing at the dampness that clung to his clothes, to his face and hair. He felt filthy, filmy, disgusting—more so than usual.

A muddle of memories and flickers and voices fought for space in his brain, bumping up against each other and overlapping, threads escaping every time he thought he’d grasped one. He was overcome, for a single, surreal moment, by the sense he had just awoken from an exceedingly peculiar dream.

Nat Finch sat up, groaning.

In his lap, plastic crinkled, disturbed by the motion. A collection of granola bars were scattered over him, a few of them having tumbled down onto the seat next to him and the floor below. Like someone had dumped them unceremoniously over his head and just… left him like that. He squinted down at them.

He recognised the brand, vaguely—something hoity-toity and ridiculous he’d seen at the supermarket, fifteen dollars a goddamn box—but they weren’t something that had any business being anywhere near him. His bank balance barely scraped double digits at the moment.

“Who the fuck…” Nat paused, not sure what question he was even supposed to be asking. “Why the fuck…”

His attention edged upwards, to a scrap of cardboard folded neatly in two and perched atop his dashboard.

DO YOUR BEST! it read in a childlike handwritten scrawl.

Nat squinted harder. “What the fuck.”

He tried to think. His brain, sluggish and laden with fog and aching, refused to provide any context for the mystery shower of nutrition. Or the note.

Or… anything else, for that matter. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he didn’t remember stopping his car. He remembered leaving work, but it had barely been dusk when he’d left work. The trip from Stop ‘N’ Go to his apartment was fifteen minutes, tops.

It was not dusk anymore. The black outside was the pitch dark and solitude of the witching hour, and the world beyond his window was dead silent, save for the buzz and pop of a single faulty streetlight a few metres ahead and the chittering gossip of crickets. No people. No cars. No movement.

Nat’s dread climbed. He craned his neck and strained to decipher his whereabouts. The lonely light offered only flimsy, spluttering illumination—some of it splashing into his car, some of it into dry grass and mesh fence lining the side of the road, most of it merely into the rumble of gravel directly beneath it. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea why he was where he was.

The disco ball hanging from his rear-view mirror glittered at him, blinking urgently.

He shoved the granola bars off himself, suddenly feeling contaminated, sending them scattering. A strident, pulsating pain forked through every inch of his body at the movement—he gritted his teeth, letting out a hiss of air and a wince. The blanket went next, ripped from his shoulders and hurled at the opposing window in a multicoloured flurry. It crumpled to the passenger seat and Nat stared at it, prickling all over with the suspicion someone else had placed it on him. Someone else had been here. Watching. Leaning. Looming. Touching. His hand flew to the window winder and wound it, sealing the opening. Sealing himself in and the outside out.

And then he sat still, mind reeling, chest tight. Panic twisting in his stomach. He waited for his brain to kick over, for his memory to rush back, for the moment he shook free the dregs of post-sleep disorientation and went, Oh, that’s right! That’s why I’m here! That’s what’s going on! How could I have forgotten?

A minute passed.

And another.

Frozen.

Rigid.

Nat swallowed, hard. Nothing clicked into place. Nothing clicked and nothing clicked and nothing clicked. Why not? He’d left work and turned left down Rake Street like he always did. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

The dark outside was alive. With every flicker-out of the streetlight, it whined at his window, still trying to reach him. A tapping, a whistling, a whispering in its own made-up language. Nat. Nat. Nat. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. The dark that should not have been there. The dark that should have been dusk.

He'd lost hours. He’d lost hours. What the hell had happened to him? The note on his dashboard just sat there, smirking. It knew things he didn’t.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Five things he could see were that gaudy leopard-print steering wheel cover, the smeared windscreen from too-old wipers, the radio, the hazard switch, his own hands, crusted in cracked, dried mud.

Four things he could feel were the press of the seat under him, the press of his work uniform over him, the sting of the cold on his feet, pain, pain, pain.

Three things he could hear were crickets and streetlights and dark.

Two things he could smell were the dull citrus hum of the vent-clip air freshener and the fact it was doing nothing to hide the fact he hadn’t showered in a while.

One thing he could taste was—

Okay, okay, alright. Okay. That would do it. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed out. Calm. Calm. Calm. A panic attack would help no one.

He reached gingerly for the ignition, exhaling in relief when he grasped the key still inside. He had that, at least. He hesitated, perched on an agonising threshold between hopeful anticipation and whatever reality was about to find him.

He turned.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Nothing. The car stuttered and clicked uselessly, refusing to start. Relief left him as quickly as it had arrived. Flat battery.

Nat breathed, “Ah, fuck.”

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

He twisted towards the back seat, feeling along the faux leather for his work backpack. He hauled it to himself and rammed an arm inside to seek his phone, shoving through a jumble of familiar shapes—notebook, hoodie, empty soft drink can for recycling, empty soft drink can for recycling, gum, nametag—ah, there it was.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Nat whined, his finger colliding with the power button. “Please, please, please—”

Nothing. Flat battery.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Nat plonked his forehead back down on the steering wheel and released a long, agonised wail.

Simmering anxiety climbed into roiling terror. Terror branched sideways into paranoia. Paranoia bloomed up through his chest and into his throat, where it squeezed tight and threatened to choke him. He’d lost hours. Anything could have happened to him. Anything could have been done to him. The dark outside mocked and laughed. The disco ball blinked its rhythmic little warnings. He could feel it all, even when he wasn’t looking.

Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel.

“No shit,” he muttered back.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

What next?

He lifted his head and flipped the sun visor down to look at himself in the mirror. With no phone screen and no overhead light to guide him, it was hard to get a full picture. He tilted his head, twisted his neck, attempted to catch himself on some jittering streetlight. He snagged a few glimpses—a dribble of blood from a cracked lip here, a smudge of dirt on a cheekbone there. His shirt looked bloody, too, though that could have been more mud. His hair wasn’t sitting right, all caked together and hanging in thick clumps.

Two trembling hands lifted, the quiver partially from weakness and partially from fear, and Nat gripped at his face. Tugging along those familiar edges and curves and juts, finding them not so familiar. Finding them wrong. Hollow. Caved in. His fingertips wandered down towards his jaw—

—and along the thick, uneven mumbling of stubble that hadn’t been there when he’d left the apartment that morning.

Nat’s heartbeat tripped up. He hadn’t lost hours.

He’d lost days.

Nat breathed in. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed in. Not enough. Too fast. His chest heaved. His lungs refused to fill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t have lost days. He couldn’t have lost days. Jesus Christ, Nat had never been the shining poster child of mental health, but he’d never lost days. He’d been God knew where for God knew how long. He’d been—his feet were bare, his hands and face were streaked with mud, someone had clearly been messing around in his car—he’d been taken. Drugged. Kidnapped. That scribbled note? He was being toyed with, probably by some deranged serial killer. And what was with the granola bars? Some kind of clue? A message?

He had to go. He had to run. He had to get help. Something close to a whimper climbed up his throat and fell from his lips. His hand crept to the door handle, and stopped.

Nat didn’t move.

He’d seen horror movies. Not many, but enough. The chase, the hunt, the twisted mind games before the inevitable kill… these were part of the fun. There was probably someone watching him right now, folded into the shadows and out of sight, waiting for him to panic. Waiting for him to make his first mistake and step outside.

Waiting for him to start the game.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Could he stay? Could he just wait it out? Someone would find him. Someone would look for him. Someone would look for him, right?

No, no one would look for him. No one would care enough that he was gone.

No, there was no way they’d let him wait this out. They would find some way to lure him out, drive him out, force him out into the waiting hands of the cold night air. Unprotected. Alone. All at once Nat felt a million eyes boring into him, leering from beyond the black, drinking in his every move. He shoved himself lower in his seat, clutching his dead phone to his chest, making himself as small as possible.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

He tried a final time to reason with himself.

When he’d worked twelve hour shifts four days straight, he’d started being dogged by the idea someone had snuck a microscopic tracking device into his takeaway pizza, which he had subsequently consumed. When he’d been behind on rent for the third fortnight in a row, he’d become fixated on the idea other customers in the supermarket were reading his thoughts and laughing at him. Look at this fucking loser. Grimy hair and track pants. Can’t even afford instant ramen.

Panic and stress tended to climb on top of him bit by bit. Panic and stress tended to twist all kinds of everyday events into all kinds of unnatural, terrifying shapes. It was normal. Even the tiny, audible hints of speech pushing through the dark, giving voice to his anxiety, those were normal under the right circumstances. It was all… no, not normal. It was a pattern. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d understand he’d never been in any danger.

So even though he was here now, helpless and stranded in the empty night, barefoot and filthy, abandoned by his memories and surrounded by leering scrawled words and fucking rich people granola bars—he had to take this moment of clarity and hold it tight.

Tomorrow, this would all make sense.

DO YOUR BEST! the dark around him sang.

“Go to hell,” Nat spat.

And with that, he wrenched the door open.

#yeehaw. here it is. the opening of rental car book one chapter one #if it had a title it would be DO YOUR BEST!#go nat go. you funky little horror protagonist. you poor fucking bastard #rental car updates #can you blame nat for going off the rails and doing the exact opposite of what the vamps that turned him wanted #his only instructions were DO YOUR BEST #tbf there are very specific reasons nat wasn't allowed in on the plan as a whole and those reasons are #he is now part of a giant interconnected vampire hivemind and everything he knows the Garble knows #also ive already told you in some earlier spoilers what the deal is with the trail bars lmao #I'm not gonna go over it again here but its my favourite stupid detail fjdkdkdk #also idk if nat seems way too fucking quick to jump to panic and paranoia abt serial killers but my excuse is #I'm schizotypal and he's schizotypal. there #a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears

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yardsards · 1 year

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tfw one of your fav fics got added to a private/unrevealed collection so you can't view it anymore and you forgot to download it so you might never get to reread it again :(((

#eliot posts #why would you do that instead of orphaning it or making it anonymous??????#ughhh i always forget to download fics #at least it was just privated and not deleted so it might come back?#part of me wonders if it was actually an accident cuz sometimes how collections like that work can be confusing to authors #and i don't see the logic as to why someone would do that on purpose?#i wish i could ask why to get my curiosity satiated at least even if they don't end up making the fic public again #but i can't do that without like. commenting about it on one of their other fics. in a completely different fandom #and i'm not gonna do that cuz i reckon it'd just make the author real uncomfortable and i don't wanna do that #but like. it is gnawing at me nonetheless.#it appears to have only been privated for a week or two (after being available for several months prior)#so like hope is still very much there of it coming back #i once had a fic get straightup Deleted for months and the author disappear without a trace only for it to get reuploaded out of the blue #but yeah. reminder to dowload your fav fics! ao3 is not as permanent as you may think #god the fic was just. SUCH a good take on going no contact with an abusive parent and it delighted me to read #actually. i know it's a longshot but if any of my followers fastidiously download fics #do any of you have a copy of a toh fic called ''out of the blue'' abt amity and her family?#i would give you my firstborn for it #which means nothing considering i am not having any biological children but you know

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mimiatmidnight · 11 months

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Will you be commenting on the Taylor drama?

I love the way this was worded, like I'm one of the siblings on Succession and the press has cornered me outside my penthouse to ask if I'll be releasing a statement on my family's latest scandal. Hehehe anyways.

Sorry but I just don't understand how anyone is shocked. Truly what has that woman ever done to successfully convince people that this is out of character for her. Like I don't want to diminish anyone's pain or anything but I see all these stans on here and over on Twitter in all this distress, having their very first epiphanies like "Hold on . . . does Taylor . . . suck??" And I kinda just have to chuckle at them cause like bless your hearts babes, but omg catch UP 😭

Lol because 1) she is a severely emotionally stunted person who thinks edgy British "bad boys" are hot like she's 12 years old, 2) she has no true deeply-held moral principles outside of issues that directly affect herself, and 3) truthfully, she seems to be suffering from a serious crisis of identity after the end of the longest and most significant romantic relationship of her life, and in my opinion is pretty clearly desperate to prove something to the world/her ex/herself.

The first reason is cringe but not news to longtime viewers, the second reason is pathetic but also not news (to those who can be honest with themselves), and the third is . . . understandable in some sense, but not pitiable enough to make me willing to humor this insufferable little episode she's having. I wish her luck on this humiliating rebound journey, but she is gonna have to walk that road on her own.

Normally, I always roll my eyes when people make these kinds of jokes, but given the circumstances I feel justified in saying: I can't wait to hear the breakup song about him, sis 🤡

#the great thing about disliking your own fave is that they simply do not have the power to disappoint you lol #like her stans (at least those who arent complete sycophants—which sadly is not most) are breaking down over Babys 1st Cognitive Dissonance #meanwhile im just over here chilling lol #ive also just NEVER been particularly invested in her personal life anyways so im gucci on that front too #i didnt even realize specific songs were about specific celebrity exes until *several* years into listening to her music #thats how unplugged i am lol #she is unusually extremely visible in the collective conscious right now cause of the tour and this insufferable PR blitz #but the absolute best thing for me is when she disappears and i dont have to perceive her -- the actual person -- outside of her music #and then it can just be me and my lifelong companion the fictional character “taylor swift” (c)(r)(tm)#so personally the only real threat this hangs over my head is the thought she might put him on an album #like that does strike real terror in my heart im ngl #ESPECIALLY any of the rerecords oh my god #and given the way hes been tailing her in and out of that damn studio . . . its not looking good for me kids 🥴#i cant believe she would be that dumb after making the same mistake with joe on folklore #cause even tho now she has to suffer the indignity of sharing a grammy with her ex (LMAO)#at least we can understand that at the time she thought they were in it for life #but if she pulls that shit again with a REBOUND??? just to like stick it to joe or further delude herself or whatever?#idk im gonna need interpol or somebody to step in and do something drastic like this is a cry for help #did you guys see that euphoria meme someone made about her deranged “ive never been happier!!!!” speech the other day?#it was SO funny ill go find it

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