#dittos-rant

[dittos-blog-dylanobrien]

Can you guys PLEASE stop tagging (character) X reader IF ITS NOT THAT CHARACTER 😭 I'm sick and tired of searching (character) X reader and it's every different character possible X reader like😭😭

[mcfanely]

My army grows more and more with each day that passes

[blanketorghost]

WHY ARE YOU SO EXPENSIVE

hey guys anyone wanna buy me this sitting cuties sableye plushie </3 /j

[kurikive]

ditto thoughts!!

guys theres just something abt ditto....... I SERIOUSLY END UP CRYING EVERYTIME I WATCH THE MV LIKE ITS RIDICULOUS HOW HARD I SOB

idk if its the mv or the song or the theories or what ever but i just end up with tears in my eyes LIKE ITS BADDD

the song is so good in a way that it's scary,, HANNI'S woohoowoohoo~ sounds almost haunting and i just cant help but imagine if i was ban heesoo and i was in that forest and heard that voice in the distance id be like yea these r my last moments theyre not gonna find my body lol LIKE OH. MY. GOD.

i fucking love all the theories especially the one where heesoo represents the fans and newjeans being not actually is like a mirror to parasocial relationships??? like the comfort idols bring that it makes you feel closer to them almost in a way it makes u think ur their friend but theyre not actually physically there for you,, REWATCHING THE MV AFTER READING THAT MADE ME SOB SO HARDDD

also i read that the deer or like the meaning of having a deer cross ur way represents that its time to check if youre living in the past, as if you cant move on from your memories AND LIKE......WHAT IF NWJNS ARE DEAD AND AND AND-

it could mean a lot of things tbh,, i was also thinking abt the guy (choi hyunwook's character) and the way him and heesoo walked away in the end together,, like he was the only person we see interact with heesoo apart from newjeans but they're not real or wtv and they walked together after the scene where the deer walked away from heesoo so i think maybe that represents how she's leaving the comfort that the idols give her and is choosing to be comforted by an actual person in her life thats real and not a parasocial relationship,, i could be wrong

ALSO I read from a ktokki's theory on twt that when the girls were drawing the girl on the blackboard it could be heesoo (who represents fans) but since the drawing is a little different from what heesoo looks like it could mean its like them saying "we also imagine what you look like, we also think of you even when we dont know you physically or personally" and i just thought it was a cute theory

im probably ranting sooo much and im not even finished thats whats worse,, i saw from a twt post again from a ktokki that in some of the concept pics, hanni is the odd one out,, like in some pictures shes the only one thats looking directly at the camera and in others shes the only one not looking at it. theres also some other ones where her face is covered completely and/or her back is facing the camera (even when the others are turned around too, some parts of their faces can be seen but hanni's face us just... not there???)

ie.

i have absolutely no idea what this means maybe we'll find out in OMG or the next comeback but its super freaky like some pics were honestly horror movie worthy and some mv scenes too!!!! and i actually really love that!!! like i enjoy so much when a music video looks normal on the surface but theres something so eerie abt it and its creeping me out like when i get the feeling something abt this is wrong and i wanna know what it is

anyways,, as you can see i REALLY enjoyed this comeback and i am super hyped for OMG i seriously cant waittt,, sorry for ranting so much and id love to hear your thoughts on the mv too if you'd like to reblog or leave a comment!! also tell me if youd like to see me do things like these for other songs or groups maybe i can open up more with my thoughts on here since i dont post a lot ^^ thanks for staying and reading

[dittolicous]

the organization i reached out to for financial help, in which my openings statement i stated there was no one big single hardship ive gone through, instead a thousand little ones, and that id even just accept financial counseling on how to get things under control... and after waiting a week in which i got two disconnection notices, they asked me again what my hardship was =)

im just. not even going to bother responding anymore. no one cares unless its one big problem. no one cares that its the one thousand tiny things, that they refuse to help with, that bury us in debt and suffering

i didnt lose my job or break a limb, no, i just suddenly lost/had to euthanize four different pets, had to cut my work hours to do an unpaid internship for my degree, which in turn required ubering just to get home at night and resulted in me getting covid, both of which drained my bank account, caused me to miss more work for over a month, and have completely fucked up my sense of smell so all i can fucking smell is fucking smoke, i have a fucking tooth with a hole in it slowly rotting away and cutting into my lip but i cant get it pulled without having to fix to fucking tooth behind it, and of course i missed a single fucking class to get my bachelor degree and i dont qualify for anymore financial aid so id have to pay out of pocket hahaha.

but thsts aaaaaall my fault and no one cares, so i dont deserve help, nope not at all.

its not like the denial of help is what led me into this fucking pit in the first place or anything.

why do i even fucking bother trying. they dont fucking care. none of them do. they just want to lord over us and shame us for being poor and stoopid, just get a better job and dont ever have anything nice hurhur

[ynsvnte]

My brain

[arthyritis]

I wonder how long this pokemon go habit will last

[theriu]

As a childhood watcher of the OG pokemon series, my silence can no longer be maintained. Please allow me to unveil some of the canon pokemon facts that the pokemon series and fandom have UNJUSTLY HIDDEN:

1) Ditto can make perfect transformations of any pokemon! The ONLY ditto who had the dotted eyes problem was in season 1, and he learned how by the end of the episode. WE DONT NEED TO GIVE EVERY TRANSFORMED DITTO CREEPY FACES GUYS COME ON

2) Meowth is the ONLY MEOWTH TO STAND ON TWO LEGS!!! They have a whole origin story about it where he taught himself to walk upright and talk like a human to try and win a regular quadrapedal female meowth’s heart. She just ended up calling him a freak sadly. So not only is giving every meowth bipedal locomotion depriving us of cute regular-kitty meowth, it has stolen the significance of meowth’s achievement! JUSTICE I SAY!

(NOTE: I cant speak for Alolan meowth, maybe they really are just like that. But I stand by the show canon’s because four-legged meowth is cute and only Team Rocket meowth should be the goofy humanoid meowth, the ‘mon EARNED IT

[torybrennan]

if virals actually had a tv show, especially a formulaic one, there would be at least one episode where stacey shows up and no one questions it. actually if virals had a tv show stacey would just be in it full stop

[ch4mpagnedrought]

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

[cookingmamatwo-dinnerwithfriends]

theodore nott headcanons

everyone shut up im world building for myself

he's known as really quiet and intimidating

people know his father was (is) a death eater so everyone that's not in slytherin usually avoids him

he hangs out with malfoy and his friends (substituting crabbe and goyle for mattheo and enzo✨✨✨)

not because he thinks muggle-borns are scum but just because he's known them since he was younger (their parents are....colleagues)

his mom died with he was young so he was raised by his dad

resents his dad for obvious reasons. cough cough death eater

but also because he was brought up with strict and hateful pure-blood values

he never understood why he was meant to hate muggle-borns so much but he never voiced his thoughts on the matter to his father

on a lighter note...

has a good sense of humor

pretends to bang his head on the table while malfoy rants about harry

his favorite class is potions but transfiguration is a close second

loves cats

is reading all the time

loves muggle classics and doesn't try to hide it (malfoy picks on him for it, "what could a muggle have to say that's worth reading?")

DATING

still not very talkative

really closed off at first

eventually will get comfortable enough to talk about his family

has a soft spot for whoever he's dating and only them

argues with his friends if they give you shit for being muggle-born

got into a full-on fist fight with malfoy once because malfoy would not stop saying things like "you could do so much better mate" and "i can't believe you're dating a filthy mudblood!" malfoy ended up in the hospital wing with a broken nose

malfoy kept his mouth shut after that

so obviously he's not good at communication

but he really tries and gets better at it

he's very protective of you

stares at anyone that looks at you

and glares at anyone that looks at you wrong

if he hears any other slytherins picking on you for your blood status he'll hex them with no hesitation

loves making you blush

he thinks it's cute when he makes you all nervous and flustered

lovingly teases you ALL THE TIME

distances himself when he realizes that he loves you because he's scared his father will find out and you'll get hurt. this leads to a little argument that ends with the classic "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU" shit

i have an idea forming about a secret forbidden romance fic idk if itll ever happen tho

also a battle of hogwarts fic hehehehehehheheh

loves physical touch since hes not good at communicating

always holds your hand or has an arm around your shoulder

makes you sit in his lap in the hopes that you fall asleep on him

writes the most romantic, shakespearean level letters

and then you send your owl back with a letter that says "ditto all that xoxo"

you guys spend a lot of time in your dorm (since he doesn't want his friends to make you uncomfortable)

your roommates are scared of him at first but that quickly goes away when they see you guys asleep and cuddling together

they take a picture once and tease you both relentlessly

its his fav picture though and he keeps it tucked in his favorite book

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

These "bombshell" revelations is not making the kind of ripples the sussexes thought it would make cos everyone already has Sussex drama fatigue. The shock factor is gone. And everyone with brain cells knows this is the most vicious hatchet job. Who exactly in Britain will believe Kate or Charles is racist? Someone they have watched grow for over 20 years? Even anti monarchists know this is just a smear campaign. No one believes Kate is the evil racist Meghan wants them to believe.

THIS.

Meghan and Scobie don’t appreciate what it means to be part of the royal family. That’s partly why Meghan is so frustrated. She thinks because she married William’s brother she’s entitled to the same level of respect and attention Kate is. That is impossible.

The Brits have known Charles his entire life. Ditto the rest of the family. The royals are a fixture of every holiday and every major British event. They’re on television every single freaking day. They’re the fabric of society. There’s no American equivalent to that, not even the Kennedys.

Likewise, the Brits have known Kate since she was a teenager. They’ve been seeing those catwalk pictures nonstop for two decades. During that time she had a highly-public breakup, rumors that the aristo circle looked down on her, various high school friends slinging mud, nude pics published, clinical morning sickness, threats on her family, an abusive sister-in-law leaking stories to the press, a brother with depression, siblings with failed business, and a family business in trouble.

And through all that she has shown up to the job, immaculately dressed, and smiled for the cameras.

Scobie may scoff at that, but showing up to do your job and make your country proud after topless pics or an Oprah interview casting you as the villain or a crazy rant from your nutty SIL that left your daughter traumatized is not easy. It takes real character.

[just-orbiting-you]

remember who we are dealing with here...

in case anyone had any doubt, tae and jk traveling will never mean the same as it does for jikook. as far as we are aware and from what they talk about, tae invites jungkook on his personal trips. we see this with this hawaii trip posted and the snowboarding trip he talked about in the Spotify promotion video.

at 9:33, jungkook talks about his experience snowboarding with tae and his friends. He says "I wanted to stay and snowboard the next morning. I thought everyone would do that too. But after snowboarding, they all passed out in the accommodation... [While listening to Ditto by NewJeans], they said they were going back home. So they went and I stayed behind."

from the way this story is told by jungkook, they left him behind, despite him voicing that he wanted to keep snowboarding the next morning. didn't offer to stay to keep him company or even tell him about plans prior. he already assuming everyone would be staying another day. i think jungkook does a good job of hiding it here (and he also kinda seems like the guy to not get phased by this sort of stuff) but i think he has the right to be a little disappointed that they didn't want to continue the trip. i'm glad he seemingly made the most of it despite being by himself.

again, the way the hawaii story was told on tae's story claims that tae and his friends were ALREADY WERE IN HAWAII. so the trip was planned and jungkook was not included. then tae has the gall to invite him to this planned trip, asking with hours notice to fly down to see him. still, jungkook is seemingly unphased by tae's behavior but that's ridiculous. yes, jungkook went anyway and seems happy in the photos.

but this proves the point again that jungkook is not the priority for taehyung: only the afterthought. he did not care that jungkook wanted to stay over and still snowboard. he did not care to invite jungkook in the initial hawaii plan. where is the decorum?

in contrast, jungkook planned a whole trip for just him and jimin in 2017. even if the next three trips (that we are aware of) happened in front of a camera, they were still only the two of them. they are each other's priority and seem to have the time of their lives when they were together. ALSO, jungkook got his snowboarding re-do in are you sure?! so im glad he got to experience it again with jimin.

so anyway, i was unhappy with everything tae posted today, but from the way jikookers are talking here, there's no reason to play into taehyung's fan service on his profiles. (yes i am calling it fan service because it honestly seems timed and the only other member he posts like this is jungkook which he must know is his fan-favorite ship. jungkook has only mentioned taehyung a few times in chapter two, only when telling stories or asked about him. i swear no one clings to jungkook more than taehyung nowadays and its fishy).

okay rant done don't feed taehyung's stans, we know they're delusional.

[dittolicous]

sighs. i have had so much free time because of my cut hours but its. still left me with nothing to do, since i have to save as much money as possible while looking for another job. so i sleep, wake up, look to see if there are any new job postings on indeed/linkedin/ziprecruit/monster/etc, dig farther into google for more sketchy job openings, think about what company sites i can check for direct jobs, check those sketchy 'surveys for money' sites,... and then i go back to sleep. because well. cant be hungry or waste money if ur asleep.

i just. im miserable. i have so much time but i cant even enjoy or use it because im going to start bleeding money i dont have soon. im fucking terrified of not being able to find a new job, of being stuck in this... dead end job. unable to get off this damn island. it makes me sick. so im bored and guilty and scared and i just gucking hate this!

im so fuckibg tired of living in this godforsaken world where you only deserve to live if you give up everything. honestly, i wish someone would just. fuckibg come beat me up. wish my parents had actually fucking hit me instead of just yelling and insults. wish i was missing limbs or brain fuction or just. anything. anything to get the world to see i cant function.

im an empty brained idiot. i dont have any passion or self. how am i suppose to live? id rather be a fucking shattered glass than an empty jar. but thats what i am.

god i just. how???? how????? how do people... live????? how do you create and make.... your brand or personality? i cant make any of that. im just here. breathing. not for any reason. thats how its always been. everytime i see jokes about what kind of 'weird kid' you were i want to cry. because ive never been fucking anything! i wasnt a horse girl or a cat girl or train person or dinosaur nut or a monster fan and never cared about Egypt or rome or didnt care for legos or cars or model building or WHATEVER. ive just! been here! with nothing! im not ANYTHING. i dont have hobbys. ive nev r had hobbies.

ive always been alone and empty. disconnected from the world. disconnected from the community. disconnected from everyone.

my life is nothing. has been nothing. just a waste of time and space. nothing to show but misery and anger. theres no escaping it. i wish i was an actual person instead of this empty sack of nothing.

get hobbies they say, thatll help, yeah surs. sure. hobbies. to store in my roach and rat infested house, where i hide away in a tiny room because its the only space i have that i can control. with the money that i dont have. alone. because im terrible at bonding with people. because why would any human wanna hang around me? and because i tire so fucking fast.

i just. i wish i was fucking dead. im tired of this stupid fucking world. thinking things might get bettrr jusy to have reality forced into my face. im a piece of garbage npc who would have been better never being born.

[ynsvnte]

UPDATE UMMM I LOVE IT SOOO MUCH

[olderthannetfic]

I found myself rereading an old discussion about AO3 commenting culture (ye olde "Authors aren't owed comments" vs. "Readers aren't owed fic either" wank). And you know, it strikes me that a lot of the drama in such discussions is rooted in the fact that people only ever seem to engage with the worst things the opposite side says. And of course that leads to miscommunication, because the extremes are not generally applicable to most people.

Like, for instance. Someone going "I comment so regularly I practically gave myself burn-out commenting". Authors complaining about people who act entitled to stories aren't talking about you, I promise. They're talking about people who genuinely can't be bothered or go on flippant "Why don't you just write for yourself?" rants, while still enjoying other people's work. Ditto on the other side: people get offended at being called entitled authors, but odds are good the person isn't referring to you, who would simply like to not shout into the void, odds are good they're referring to the asshole authors they've met who'd throw hissy hits over comments that weren't phrased exactly to their liking, because yes, people like that do exist so it's simply flat out wrong to say "Just comment, authors are always happy to see comments, no matter how short! :)"

Also, a particular comment jumped out at me:

"It's not a consumer's job to compliment a promote an artist's work"

I generally agree that acting like people are owed comments is useless and stupid, but if I had to pick a phrasing that sums up my misgivings about common commenting culture, it's this. So many people seem to act like authors are getting a paycheck for this and don't need any additional motivator.

The other thing that bugs me is when people talk about all the reasons they don't comment (low spoons, anxiety, tired, etc.), but ignore the fact that authors have to deal with all of the above, too. And not just in fanfic. It seems any time there's any kind of social conflict being discussed (like, say, replying to a friend's messages in a vaguely timely manner) a ton of people will trot out excuses for why they can't do [insert what's generally seen as the vaguely courteous thing to do], but inadvertently act like that makes them special and like they're the only ones who have these legitimately valid excuses.

This started in one place and led to another, sorry. I guess I'm just frustrated with the Tumblr mental health culture of "I have a semi-specific reason I struggle with this so I'm not even going to try". I think people overcompensate too much for "Just don't be disabled!"-style ableism and swing too hard in the embraced helplessness direction.

Back to fanfic, every time I see the "I can't do it because of X" thing in the context of commenting, I can't help but think of how many authors also deal with depression, anxiety, self-esteem issues, low spoons, etc. and how easy it would have been for them to give up, but they got through it and posted the fanfic anyway, and how often they're then met with silence because the prevailing attitude among their audience is e.g. "I read this before bed and was too sleepy to comment, and too forgetful to comment the next day". I think about some of the fic I've written, often fic written when I maybe should have been doing something else, or fic written at the cost of sleep, or hyperfixating at my keyboard for six hours instead of going for a nice hike with my family, and it's hard not to get a little bitter, you know? Talking about legitimate reasons for why commenting is hard just so often comes across as "You're free to make sacrifices to write the stuff I read, but I won't make any"

I also feel a bit bitter that it's impossible to even discuss these things in a vacuum without someone going "Discussions like this are why I've stopped commenting", as someone inevitably will in the notes of this post. "Just shut up and make your Content(TM) and don't complain about anything", is what it feels like.

--

The entire phrasing of reward and owing is stupid.

The reality is that lots of people won't produce work unless they feel like someone cares. No amount of moralizing or excuses will change that.

It's also the reality that posting to the masses on AO3 or tumblr will result in maybe one like or other interaction per hundred hits if you're really, really lucky. The rate has never been much better than that, and it never will be. It's often very much worse.

If one personally wants to encourage people, sure, go out and do that, but any call to action that ignores the above two realities is like fighting the tide.

I do think "It's not my job to promote you" typically comes up in the context of meltdowns about letting artists "languish in your likes" instead of being reblogged onto your actual blog and/or contexts where the artist/author/etc. is selling their work.

Here's the thing: people who never comment do not count.

They think they're part of a community. They're not. If you don't participate, you're a ghost.

When some author moves to a more enclosed space, a lot of people who saw themselves as part of something are suddenly left out in the cold, wondering why. But the fact is, if you don't pay the entry fee of socializing with others, you're nobody to them.

The entitled randos don't matter. If they bug you enough, take your toys and retreat to a discord with your friends.