#those are the mistakes that will never be fixed

[bamfkeeper]

All I Want. | K.W

summary: It's so busy, you miss Kurt.

warnings: GN!reader | Fluff | Brief mention of mutant treatment

a/n: I had a handful of requests/ideas I'm going to try to do. I love a lot of them so I'll do my best to pick the ideas that were mentioned more than once. For now here's this little drabble, not long but something cute. Not edited ignore mistakes. ;; wc: 1.3k

The holidays turned the mansion into a whirlwind of endless activity and festive energy.

Every moment seemed filled with purpose as you moved from one seasonal task to another - mixing cookie dough in the warm kitchen while trying to keep prying blue hands away from the dough, building snowmen in the crisp winter air with the younglings, organizing decorations from dusty attic boxes, and carefully hanging twinkling lights along the hallways. The mansion buzzed with non-stop holiday preparations from sunrise to sunset, and while you had help from the other older mutants, the majority of the planning and decorating fell on your shoulders.

Between the constant motion of holiday tasks and the infectious excitement in the air, you found yourself working well past your usual limits, your body finally signaling its need for rest as evening approached.

The cold winter nights grew more and more frigid, nothing brought you more comfort than sinking into the plush embrace of the living room couch, wrapping your hands around a steaming mug of hot cocoa topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a sprinkle of crushed peppermint and cocoa shavings. The warmth of the dozen bamfs that gathered around you didn’t go unnoticed, creating a cozy cuddle pile with you. Their curiosity and playful nature showed as they cautiously stretched forward, tiny tongues darting out to steal tastes of the sweet cream and minty chocolate garnish that crowned your drink.

Kurt's presence had grown increasingly sparse lately. The holiday season always brought an overwhelming surge of responsibilities for the X-Men, as they encountered a significant increase in cases of abandoned mutants during this time of year. The harsh winter conditions made their missions even more critical, keeping the team constantly engaged in rescue operations.

The majority of mutants they discovered were victims of abuse or deliberately abandoned, left to face the bitter elements alone. The numerous children they found never failed to make your heart ache, young souls who had just begun to manifest their powers and were cast aside by those who should have protected them.

The weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart.

This year had been particularly difficult, as your relationship with Kurt had been flourishing, you grew closer than you had been with anyone and finally felt comfortable in your own skin. Yet these precious moments of togetherness remained frustratingly elusive. The memory of his enthusiastic promises to share traditional recipes from his homeland lingered in your mind, but his overwhelming schedule had prevented that from happening.

Night after lonely night, you found yourself lying awake, wondering when he might finally return with enough time to dedicate to your shared moments together.

You hated feeling so selfish, but you also couldn't help it.

A gentle hand brushed against your cheek as one of the mischievous bamfs scrambled its way up to perch on your shoulder, its small tongue darting out to playfully lick away the spots of whipped cream that had collected on your lip and the tip of your nose. "H-Hey, hey, I think you've had enough sugar, all of you," you spoke with mild exasperation to the gathering of bamfs surrounding you, their eager eyes fixed on your drink as they continued their persistent attempts to steal a taste.

The sheer volume of cookies, candy canes, and other sweets they managed to consume on a daily basis had become a source of concern, and each night you found yourself anxiously waiting, fully expecting to discover them all suffering from severe sugar-induced stomach aches.

Yet their bellies were made of steel, the hellfire bellowing inside them scorching everything that hit their stomachs.

After what felt like an eternity of coaxing and gentle persuasion, you finally managed to get all of the little bamfs settled into their beds for the night. The last one had been particularly resistant, but eventually succumbed to sleep.

Exhausted from the long day, you made your way to the bathroom to complete your nightly routine. You brushed your teeth and washed your face, taking comfort in these familiar actions, none of it took much effort and was all muscle memory. When you finished, you reached for the light switch, flicking it off before wearily making your way out of the bathroom.

Your body felt heavy with fatigue as you climbed into bed, your mind already drifting toward the promise of sleep. Just as you were about to fall asleep, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. The unexpected contact sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system, instantly dispelling any trace of drowsiness from your body as all your muscles grew tight. On instinct, you threw your elbow backward in a defensive motion, connecting with something solid behind you.

"Ach - Scheiße!" Kurt's pained voice rang out as he quickly brought his hand up to cradle his nose. The sudden commotion caused several of the bamfs to materialize in your lap, their small forms bristling with protective energy. Their eyes glowed intensely in the darkness as they positioned themselves defensively with their backs puffed up, but upon recognizing Kurt, their aggressive posturing immediately melted away.

"Kurt?? Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," you muttered apologetically, your hand instinctively reaching out through the darkness to find his where it was pressed against his face. Your heart was still racing from the startle. "You completely caught me off guard there...I didn't even sense you in the room at all."

"Heh...it's alright, liebling...I should have let you know I returned from the mission early. I wanted to surprise you but...you had already gone to sleep." He gently rubbed his nose where you had accidentally struck him, before carefully taking your outstretched hand in his and leaning closer to study your face in the dim light. "You seem completely drained of energy, ja? Was it a particularly demanding day?" His brow furrowed with concern, causing his usually neat hair to fall forward in loose curls that partially obscured his worried expression.

Your hand drifted upward of its own accord to brush through his disheveled curls, trying to smooth them back into place. "Yeah I...I had a busy day..." you admitted with a tired sigh.

"Sprechen Sie mit mir." Kurt spoke gently, his voice a soothing whisper as he drew you close against his body. The winter season had blessed him with an exceptionally thick coat, his usual short fur now grown into a luxurious winter covering that was so soft and warm. You nestled deeper into his embrace, his typically velvet-like fuzz had grown into longer, softer strands that were just long enough to twirl playfully around your fingers, particularly abundant across his chest where it formed gentle curls.

His tail moved with gentle affection against your leg as he carefully positioned you both for comfort, creating a cozy space where you could share your stories. With interest reflecting in his eyes, Kurt settled in to hear about your day. He listened intently as you recounted your baking experience with the bamfs, playing outside with the children, and decorating like an expert. You were pretty proud of yourself.

"Ah, I figured you made those cookies... they are absolutely perfect, my liebe. I might have snuck a few when I got back," he smiled warmly, his prominent fangs poking out endearingly as he spoke. His gentle, playful tease made your cheeks flush with warmth and you instinctively shifted even closer to his comforting presence.

"Did you happen to see the special batch I made just for you?" you asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"Ja...I must confess…I ate them all," he replied with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, his lips brushing your forehead as he leaned down to kiss your skin.

"You didn't save a single one??" You looked up at him with a playful smirk, which he couldn't help but mirror on his own face.

"Nein... they were specifically made for me, weren't they? And I am absolutely not sharing," he declared with mock possessiveness. He loved your cookies, and whenever you bakes him anything, he tended to be pretty protective over the things you made.

"Greedy..." You murmured, making Kurt lean down again, his chest rumbling softly as his voice became heavy with drowsiness.

"Stets."

Thanks for reading~

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

[sobbingscripter]

DAY 9: Nine Ladies Dancing

☃️Stuff My Stocking☃️

Tags: [virginity][AGED UP][vanilla?][friends to lovers][implied crushes][did I mention AGED UP]

A/N: idk who's art that is but I hope you get the sloppiest toppy.

❄️☃️❄️

"This is pointless. Everyone knows what they're getting." Damian grumbles, nimble and tanned fingers folding thin and vibrant coloured wrapping paper around yet another box. The eighth one so far.

Snow tumbles outside frost bitten windows, a beautiful view of snowcapped mountains and the soft howl of wind all remains beyond the sturdy, brick walls of the manor. The scent of cinnamon and ginger lingers in the air, a plate of half-eaten gingerbread cookies on an ornate plate, two glasses of unfinished milk accompanying the snack on the wooden surface of the nearest coffee table.

"This is your first traditional Christmas." You answer him, your brows knitting into a frown at the familiar and unwelcome pessimism that seems to seep from Damian's pores like sweat.

"Not to mention your last Christmas, before you move in with the Titans and then, you're never seeing me again." You add, the last tidbit being said with a hint of dramatism, and if you were more confident in your knitting abilities, you'd have rested your hand on your chest, wiping away a faux tear with your other.

"Imagine I'm—" "Yeah, I get it." Emerald pools roll in annoyance at your theatrics, and he pinches the corners, sharpening them on either side of the box's seams. "And you're being ridiculous. You'll see me."

His eyes lift to meet your gaze, and if you were feeling a bit more confident, you'd have commented on the hint of sadness lurking behind the leafy pools and stupidly long lashes. Those goddamn Arab genes.

"Yeah but then you'll be dating that goth girl in the leotard. And you'll bring her on all our hang outs, and when you don't, she'll tell you that I'm trying to fuck you."

"Aren't you?"

Damian's question causes you to miss a stitch, wooden needles poking into the wrong loop of the vibrant green yarn, and your eyes widen, long lashes fanning out around your doe eyes before you let out a snort of laughter.

"Yeah, but not if you have a girlfriend."

Your eyes lower back to the stocking you're knitting, carefully fixing your mistake before continuing, the soft sound of wood clanging against one another continues to ring out in the stillness, the only other sound being the crackling fireplace and the hum of the fucking gramophone Damian had insisted on turning on for...

Arm-bie-arnce.

"But..." His voice is quiet and his hands still. "I don't have a girlfriend."

He sets down the half-wrapped box, carefully extracting the knitting needles and yarn from your hands, and a hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer across the burgundy rug of Wayne Manor's entertainment room.

"And I'm not interested in Rachel."

He adds quietly, gaze locked on yours and you swallow. Your heart pounds in your chest, rattling your ribcage and your palms begin to get clammy as you grasp at the soft cotton of your (his) pajama pants.

"Can I—" "Yes, you can cast it off."

Damian's kisses are soft. Gentle, and all-consuming. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, the muscles in his arms flex with each of his movements, muscular fingers moving behind the fabric of your pants. The feel of his pounding heart against your back is the only indication that he's just as nervous and inexperienced as you, if not more.

Because GOD, you'd never guess.

Not from the way his fingers slowly circle your needy clit, just enough to keep you on the teetering edge of pleasure, soaking through your panties and definitely not from the way his free hand grasps your neck, just... Resting there. His thumb rubs that soft spot just beneath your ear, brushing over the sensitive skin as his tongue slides repeatedly against yours, painting the inside of your mouth with his taste.

Gingery cookies, full cream milk and the hint of mint from his toothpaste, and Damian pulls away, dark lashes fluttering and his lips reddened from being so... Coddled in attention. He can taste your lip balm on his lips, the hint of coconut oil and that sweet smell that always seems to get him dizzy whenever he gets a whiff of it.

You're so pretty right now. Big, wide doe eyes with long lashes, fluttering as you stare up at him expectantly, your back pressed against his broad chest and you can feel the hardness of his muscles through the fleece of your hoodie and the flimsy fabric of his long sleeved T-shirt. You're pliable, and each time his fingers curl, he gets to feel your pulse jump beneath your skin, and each time, it sends a delightful shiver down his back, making his cock twitch.

"You're pretty." Damian whispers quietly, smoky green eyes drinking in the flush of your cheeks, your body melding against his and slowly, he pulls his fingers out of your pants. Bringing them up to his lips and tasting you on his tongue and you get to watch the exact moment he falls in love with the taste of your leaky pussy.

Lashes flutter, eyes nearly close and that aching cock pressing against your lower back is so noticeable that when you shift, you can exactly feel the ridge of his flushed crown. And his hands move to your thighs, squeezing the plump flesh before he dips his head low.

Your nails graze the short cropped hair of his undercut, just as his tongue flicks against your pulse, before he presses a soft kiss to your pleasure-thrumming skin.

"Wait here," he hums, "I'm gonna go ask Todd for a condom."

You're sopping. It's an uncomfortable feeling when you feel Damian's plump tip stretching out your tight, untrained muscles, his hand anchoring your hips to the sofa and you frown, brows knitted tightly and your lips tugged into a cute little pout.

"Just—" You feel a particularly painful pinch and you wince, "—shove it in." You instruct. "Don't prepare me. Then don't move. Not even an in—"

Your wind is knocked out of you when Damian, quite literally, shoves it in. Your walls spasm and your eyes well up with tears as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip to stifle any sounds, any tears.

"Shh shh, 'm sorry, 'm sorry." Damian mutters softly, leaning over you and peppers soft kisses to your red face, pressing gentle kisses to your watering eyes and his hands gently massage your waist and hips, trying to help you relax.

"Just...." Damian bites his lip as he thinks. Normally, in the porn he's seen, everyone's already broken in. But he takes a leap of faith, his hand resting on your mound and his thumb moves to your folds, finding that cute pebbled bud and slowly, he coaxes you into relaxation.

Slow circles that have your mouth forming a cute pouty 'o' shape, wet lashes fluttering as you look down at his hand. The pain is... Dull. Still present but so dull when compared to Damian's face, so... Expressive, for once and so gentle as he plays with your clit.

Gentle pinches, slow circles.

He pulls out every trick in the book, all while keeping his aching hips still, eager for you to enjoy this before he gets to fuck you.

He leans forward, hips snug against your own as he presses a kiss against your temple, your thighs over his and he hides his face in your neck when your hips rock to meet his thumb's movements and you just feel....

Warm.

Your brows crease when Damian lets out a shuddering breath before he lifts himself, grabbing your hoodie from the backrest of the sofa and he tosses it over your face.

"What are you—" "Don't look!"

Damian huffs, pulling out of you and he carefully tugs the already filled condom off, the latex filled to the brim with snowy white cum and he knots it, hiding it beneath the sofa.

Just for now.

He carefully and quickly rips another foil packet, putting on the condom just like how Dick demonstrated with a banana on one really... Shitty day.

And just when you finally manage to toss the hoodie off your face (he tucked the arms into the space between the cushion and the armrest), Damian's already sliding his thick cock back into your drooling cunt.

Your eyes roll back, your hips lifting and your knees move inward, pressing your knees into his sides as his thumb continues it's prior assault, teasing your sensitive button.

"Open your legs." Damian huffs, cheeks still flushed from the knowledge that he came so early, but as long as you don't know, you can't bring it up.

"I—... No..." Your hips buck sloppily, and he lets out a deep groan, but you're not sure if it's in pleasure or annoyance, but Damian's hands move to your inner thighs, spreading them obscenely wide and he stares.

Watching the way your puffed pussy lips swallow his cock whole, and he slowly pulls out of you, listening to that slick sound that nearly blends into the crackle of firewood and he slowly sinks back into you.

Damian.

He doesn't thrust, doesn't pound or piston.

His hips fucking roll into yours, a slow grind that has your brain melting and your nails digging into strong biceps, and Damian's eyes are locked on yours. It's a slow fuck. The slowest and so deep, each sloppy kiss against your cervix has your toes curl in those knitted socks, your yarn covered heels brushing against his muscular back.

"You're so tight..." Damian breathes out, his hips stuttering and your whines turn into quiet breaths, soft breathy moans and your hands interlock behind his neck, pulling him closer.

He's all you can smell.

That musky sweat, the oud he uses. Fuck, he smells so good. And you're barely paying attention when you whisper softly, lips brushing against his ear.

"Take off the condom?"

[endearng]

Home

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Summary: Emily always comes home to a nice surprise. WC: 1k Warnings: A little suggestive by the end but that's it :) A/N: This is my first time writing for Ems!!! Can you guys tell that I have a thing for 'coming home'? lol This has been sitting on my drafts for the longest time, so I figured I'd post it. Hope you guys enjoy it! :)

| masterlist

You'd gotten a call from your girlfriend, Emily Prentiss, telling you she was coming home that night. You felt instantly better, because the week had treated you very poorly, having dealt with major mistakes from people at work to having a flat tire mid-way home. Even through the phone, her cheerful tone was contagious to you, making happiness pump through your very bloodstream. You knew she worked really hard and other problems were probably one of the last things she needed to think about once she got home. So, you always went out of your way to make sure she felt welcome when she got back from her cases, so tonight it wouldn't be different.

Well, tonight would be very different. You decided you would propose to her as soon as she got home. You've spent some fair share of your time thinking about it and it made perfect sense. The two of you were together for three years now, and since you moved in together to a new apartment, which was now yours, you had no doubts that she was the love of your life. The one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Emily gave you all the safety you could possibly long for in a relationship, not to mention that she was the most loving partner ever. Her absences made you feel incomplete, but seeing her come back to you made your heart flutter every time like it was the first.

On the way back home, you got flowers — daisies, to be more specific, a personal favorite of yours and Emily's. Once you entered your apartment, you tidied up the place and cooked her favorite dish as you listened to one of your favorite albums, all the while thinking about how it'd feel to see her, to be in each other's embrace again, how would she react... You weren't nervous, of course, you knew she loved you just the same, but what if she wasn't ready to get married? What if she wasn't there yet? What if she didn't want to marry you? The thought made you shudder.

When you finished your cooking, you got ready by dressing yourself in one of her favorites looks on you, a set of pajamas that clung to your body — you felt comfortable, the cotton material against your skin felt great, but Emily's hands on you when she first saw you in that set felt heavenly.

You smiled to yourself, already anticipating her reaction.

You sat on your couch, mindlessly scrolling on your phone and answering a few texts from your friends and family, desperately trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside you. You were watching a puppy video when you heard the door unlock, which made you dash to the door in an instant, "Emily, my darling! You're home!" You said, throwing yourself into her arms. She grinned softly, thinking that she'd never get used to you, let alone to how you reacted everytime she got home. It was so nice being safe and feeling loved and wanted.

"I missed you, my girl," she said when you slightly pulled away from her arms. Both of her hands carressed your cheeks and traveled to the sides of your neck, thumb gently ghosting over your earlobes. Her gaze was intensely fixed on yours and you could feel the love in those beautiful, black eyes. After silently admiring you for some time, for her eyes expressed something that words failed to, she captured your lips in a kiss that told you just how much she had, indeed, missed you. Her kisses always made you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, not only because you had her attention solely on you, but also because you were the one who truly held her heart in your hands. "I'm sorry I took so long, my girl, but I'm here." Another passionate kiss. "I'm home."

"That's what matters." You mumbled, lips pressed to her cheek. She smiled.

"That," she chuckled, "and the fact that you're always waiting for me. Coming home to a house without you in it makes no sense to me anymore."

You chuckled, absolutely delighted by the effect you had on your girlfriend. Soon to be… "I have a surprise for you."

Placing her hands on your waist, she chuckled, "That's sweet, darling. But I don't think it's as nice as mine."

You laced your hands together at the back of her neck, asking while grinning stupidly, "You have a surprise for me, Em?" To which she nodded. "Okay. We can both surprise each other on the count of three."

“Okay."

Deep breaths. She loves you. Be brave. "One, two, three—Will you marry me?"

As you finished the countdown and blurted the sentence nervously, Emily was down on one knee, having let go of your waist at breakneck speed once you said the word "three" and pulling a ring box from her pocket. You gasped and Emily's mouth hung agape, like a fish out of water.

Once the surprise of the moment washed away slightly, you burst out laughing with pure bliss, soon joined by your now fiancé — if her being down on one knee and holding out a ring for you meant anything, it definitely meant that she would, in fact, marry you. You got down on your knees to hold her in your arms, relishing in the moment of sheer joy between you two. Your heart felt safe and complete and everything was because of the woman who held you in her arms and carried you so dear and near to her own heart.

"I love you." You muttered, kissing the top of her head, voice slightly muffled by her hair.

"I love you, darling. So much. I... I can't believe we're gonna get married." She said, breaking in the biggest grin you've ever seen on her face.

“I can't believe you said yes." You smiled.

"Technically, I didn't..."

"Shut up, Prentiss."

She pinched your chin, smiling devilishly. "In a few months, I'm gonna be saying that to you, too.” She quipped. “Now, come on. Let's see you out of those pajamas, hm?”

[sundime]

Prof H. Slughorn, Summer '77, Group B: "On love potions & extended." (read here) wolfstar, 40k, 4/10, love potion fic

“Oh, really?" Sirius grins, testing. He raises his brows. "You’re finally going to tell me about this secret mistress of yours?”

“Oh my God,” Remus grumbles.

Sirius laughs, keen and bright. “It’s all right, you know. Sorry. I just…”

“What?”

Sirius leans against the doorframe, fixing his belt. “I’ve never seen you fancy anyone.” He glances up. “Except for Bowie, maybe. Those shifty eyes of his,” he teases.

Remus tosses a pair of Sirius’ socks at him, ruthless.

--- My christmas gift to the prof h nation yippee. (Posting this in the middle of nowhere if there are horrible mistakes well that's not my problwm)

[darkandstormydolls]

I love how wildly dark some kids media is

Especially my dearly beloved American Girl Dolls, some of whom have trauma worthy of the most pathetic Little Guy™️ character

Like, this character had to leave behind everything she ever knew or loved, knowing fully well that she could never go back, never would see the family she’s leaving behind ever again. So she embarks on her journey, finding comfort in a friend who shares her grief at leaving their old life behind, but also the same hope for the future. But that friend dies just before reaching their new life, leaving her alone once again in a strange land.

She has to leave the last remnants of her homeland behind. And she still has hope, but so many of the promises of this new land are just not there. And they go back to try and retrieve those keepsakes, months later, and she has to be the one to lead them through the snowstorm, relying on half-remembered directions in the hope of not freezing in the snow before then can get home

She tries to do something kind, help out a little innocent creature. And it goes horribly wrong, ending up destroying the home that they only just are managing to carve out in this new land.

She gets lost in the woods, in the middle of winter, and she and her brother think they’re safe when they find shelter. But not only shelter, they also find the corpse of a neighbor, the first people to learn that he died. So they wait out the storm alongside this old body, one they can’t even properly bury because the ground is frozen, while her brother tries to comfort her with the thought that he was a good soul, so while he may be dead, his ghost is a kind one. And then, in order to try and fix the mistake that destroyed their home, they rob the dead man.

This is the character:

[pipperoo]

in hatchetfield, i always find all the timelines so fascinating because anything could happen in them. some unspeakable horrible thing could happen or someone puts themself in the worst possible situation but, there’s always the hope that somewhere, in some timeline, they didn’t make the mistake or that traumatic event didn’t happen. anything could change.

which just makes the events that happened before october 5th, before the timeline split, all the more tragic. because they’re set in stone, there is never any hope that those can change. across every timeline those events will have always happened

jenny will always be gone, there’ll never be a timeline where she and ted can find each other again. he’ll always have lost her and it’s all his fault. and since he made the decision to change who he was in 04, he’ll always be that sleazeball

hidgens will always be obsessed with making working boys because they will have always died on that football field in that lightning storm. every hidgens we see has had to crawl out from under the fried corpses of the men he loved. he’ll think of the life he could have had with chad and his other boyfriends forever

jerry and jeri will always have that child. since ted remembers hearing lumberaxe dragging his axe around and he certainty didn’t go to the camp after 05, lil jerry will always be raised in the woods and kill the horny campers. girl jeri will always be stuck.

miss holloway will never be able to save those three girls. she will have always made her deal with the lords in black. despite the people she saves now, she can never do anything to spare the lives that kickstarted this whole thing for her

it’s just the fact that some things, that didn’t make the 2005 cutoff point, will never be altered, will never be changed! those people will always be dead, they will have always done those things. every single version of each character across any timeline will still be marked by the same defining events

[kittarts]

is it stressful running your own art shop/business?

It's something I am considering myself but, idk it just seems like a lot of responsibility and I always get so intimidated by that😔

It's stressful, and it takes a-lot of work and patience, but it's also incredibly fulfilling!

Trust in your ability to get a task done, to manage money, to communicate with customers and manu's, to ship things safely. Don't settle for less, hold yourself to a high standard and make sure your goals are reached.

The more you do so the easier it'll become! :)

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[camellcat]

you ever realize you never properly learned how to say a character's name, so by the time you finally HEAR it, you have no idea who they're talking about? cause I feel like I keep doing this and it's very confusing to keep being corrected like that

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

home from work

[halfelven]

love random not even logged in readers just dropping their 'constructive criticism' on your 100k+ story that you're putting online entirely for free. this is just a rant btw

"You obviously have a great talent and I think you should work on honing it some. As much as I’ve enjoyed the story, there are a few things that stand out that you might consider looking at. I feel like the story isn’t sure what it wants to be at times; is it character driven or plot driven? It doesn’t flow smoothly because sometimes we have these wonderful character vignettes, like Illumi and Kalluto on a road trip or Kite/Leorio/Gon/Killua in an apartment where plot doesn’t really feel important, followed by what feels like heavily plot driven beats, like Kalluto and the spiders. In addition, it contributes to confusion because sometimes we see established characterization turned on its head. Especially the weird way everyone all of a sudden just sort of was OK with Kalluto being a spider and then working with Illumi when they just went to all that trouble to escape him? It all kind of feels forced and not natural. You know?

Anyway, I’ll definitely keep reading and look forward to seeing what happens."

first: love you trying to sound legitimate with your "in addition" like this is some kind of writer's workshop. second: in what way would I, the writer, think that an incomplete part of my story in which the reader does not yet know most of the main motivations (they are only hinted at so far) feels forced and not natural when I know what's happening, where it is going (and where I haven't had other readers comment with confusion about that part)

and moving on. don't do this. also like i said this is a wip in and no, no one is cool with Kalluto being a spider and no they're not cool working with Illumi, really. it was already established that some of them /have/ been working with Illumi before this~ he's someone that they know. like have you never been in a seriously dangerous situation that you just have to get through before you get back to what you want?*** also at this point Chrollo's real motive hasn't been entirely revealed.

Killua keeps changing his mind about what he's doing because he's a scared kid whose self-hatred is destroying him from the inside out. the POV is so tight that I have to keep dropping reminders that what is stated in the narrative is often not true! Illumi's POV, for example, keeps showing Killua as really loving him and being happy he's around but struggling with a desire for freedom, while with Killua's POV he's terrified of Illumi most of the time. like how is that not obviously a distorted POV where you can't trust the narrator?

"where plot doesn’t really feel important, followed by what feels like heavily plot driven beats"

this part is especially irritating because it's like yeah that's how I want to write it? this isn't a published novel. I don't have to commit to making sure every scene is important to the plot. I can spend time writing a full scene about someone drinking a glass of water and then 13 chapters in a row that are for moving the plot forward. I didn't even tag it as a novel... I did tag it for unreliable narration and I keep getting annoyed that people keep ignoring that.

"I feel like the story isn’t sure what it wants to be at times; is it character driven or plot driven?"

it's both??? it's neither??? it's a fanfic??? why do I keep getting comments lately where people are expecting me to adhere to like fucking publishing standards. this keeps up and I will write a chapter which is entirely about a minor character drinking a glass of water. watch me. I'll write one about phinks drinking a glass of water and you'll like it*

"Overall, the story is good and presented a compelling alternative to CA. Look, each fan has their own opinion on CA and I know I didn’t like it. I think it was a product of what Togashi was going through as he began to experience health issues and then finding himself right back where he said he wasn’t going to be mentally after he ended his earlier manga. We can never know for sure, but it certainly had a “watch it all burn vibe” to it near the end. I honestly believe he wanted it to end with the finality of Gon’s suicide as a capstone statement, but was probably convinced to go a different route, which kinda of left a jarring feel in the narrative and culminated in a rather unsatisfying end to Gon and Killua’s journey. Despite that, I am very reluctant to read fics where the events of CA are erased or grossly modified and honestly yours is really the first long AU/alternate timeline I’ve enjoyed"

okay first of all, I love the CA arc. but I had to split a point off where Kite was going to survive. why do you have to leave this whole paragraph about how you think Togashi was or wasn't going to go with the CA on my fanfic? I didn't even write this as 'oh look at my alternative to CA bc I hated CA' I don't really look forward to hearing comments about how random people didn't like so and so aspect of the story that I'm basing my story off of. I've never written fanfic for a story that I didn't like (except for some things that I don't have published I wrote at a request for friends for a fandom they were into that I wasn't really) and yeah I've wanted to 'fix' aspects (like tolkien's treatment of women for example) but I am not looking for your 'this is what I hated about the source material' comments on my stories

tired of getting comments with little 'oh I didn't like your style at first but now I do' or 'here's how to fix your story!' unsolicited advice from people who aren't better writers than me (I don't even want it from people who would be better writers than me on stuff I'm just doing for fun and for free)

when did stuff like this become normal? at least don't be a coward and be not logged in so you can't even get a response notification. like girl they aren't cool with it! why do you think everyone is on guard standing around like they're in a fucking hostage situation? how do you see such wildly different interpretations from different character's POVs and think it's not intentional? what part about Kite watching Killua like a fucking hawk makes you think he's going to let Illumi take him after this?

like if you've never had to smile and pretend to be cool with your abuser (pretend to love them) or someone who was threatening you to keep someone else safe then good for you! it fucking sucks! also don't know how to explain to you what a child who is growing up in an extremely isolated abusive situation goes through (though I keep writing about it in this story you should catch on...) but it's a million back and forths with emotion and feelings--especially if their abuser does (to in some way or to some degree) love them. and it is often blaming themselves. I'm not letting my years of studying human psychology and child development go to waste here**

is this story perfect? no but I'm not gonna hire an editor for a fanfic. and everyone's interpretations of characters will be different. especially with child characters who are going through huge changes in the world around them and their personal lives. part of the appeal of fanfiction is 'who would they become if this happened instead?' *sorry I keep writing about starving and not having clean drinking water but I will never stop because that's what I grew up with and it's hell. also phinks drinking water would be compelling since I assume he'd have harder access to clean drinking water

**hunter x hunter is also one of the only stories I have encountered with characters who have backgrounds as fucked up as mine and Togashi's interest in human psychology really stands out.

***like good for you but that was most of my life and you sometimes just have to shut up and get through it. and no I will not put my notes in the right order bc I'm not being paid enough****

****I'm being paid nothing

[joleneghoul]

my friend reading the physical OLD prints of the rainbow raider bg vol 1 issues and saying "wow i can 100% see the influence on Jo's style here" but not saying that for the digital recolors is so real and true of him.

[hollenka99]

YouTube yesterday: Hey btw The Longest Johns just released a song about Horatio Nelson's death.

Me: Cool, excuse me as I stare off into space and think about L'Manburgian soldiers' reaction to hearing about Kiril's dying to withering whenever I play the song.

[aria0fgold]

Got distracted and I ended up working on my drawing But then I realized a major mistake on it when I thought I was done with the star veil (yes, again. I changed up the stars at the tips of it, this veil is kicking my ass) and I was erasing stuff already so when I realized I'm like: FUCK-- undo undo undo undo und o un do u n d o. And now I gotta... move All those new lil designs at the tip, Again, so I'm like: Okay... alright... I'll do that Later. I'll write now cuz god Forbid I do anything in that design, it's all mistakes!

[whimsyprinx]

i think I just need to stop clinging to and getting so attached to people

[mayplantstarrwaters]

Going through another art crisis once again as I just decided today that I will practice some essential stuffs for drawing such as body anatomy, hand, legs but then I got hit with a bunch of tutorials from different people and references pics to the point that I don’t know where to fucking begin ???? And now once again I feel like I can’t fucking do anything because I just tried everything I could and it crumbled