#idk why but i’ve been so determined to learn how to make this

[notjanine]

riffed on this recipe and ended up with the best jollof i’ve made yet, so i feel compelled to share ❤️

[nahoney22]

Hello! I absolutely love love LOVE your work. I be rereading on here and on Ao3 and your writing is just phenomenal!! I wanted to know if I can please request an NSFW fem reader x Hunter.

Reader is mad or annoyed with “The Great Sergeant of clone force 99” always on top of her ever since she joined the batch like how she almost got injured but it was only Hunter’s overprotectiveness that might have been the problem and at some point they get in to a really heated argument on the Marauder where she wants to leave the batch and Hunter will be glad because he doesn’t have to look after someone…. until something snaps between them and all hell breaks loose. Even hidden feelings are let loose lol. Also, there’s this song that I picture it with for some reason. It’s “when you coming to see me?” by Mawr if you wanna take listen :).

Anyways, again I love your work and ive never requested something to anyone before so idk if the request is well written and/or too long😅 but i know you can execute it so well if you decide on accepting my request. Thank you!!!! ♥️♥️♥️

Later’s Better Than Never*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Hunter x Female!Reader

word count: 3.6k

prompts: none

When tensions finally reaching breaking point, your need to leave becomes evident. Hunter however makes it harder than it should be.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Female reader, explicit sexual content and language, dirty talk, light dom!Hunter, very light breathplay ie choking, fingering, finger sucking, cum eating, oral ie blowjob, p in v sex, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, Hunter is overprotective, light angst, arguing, not proofread.

authors note: Sorry for the wait my lovely @lamiliani, enjoy, I hope this is okay! 🩵

Hunter had been unbearable since the mission briefing.

The plan was straightforward: infiltrate a high-stakes gala, seduce the host, and extract crucial information about a new Imperial weapon. The client you were working for had specifically chosen you for this task after witnessing your charisma and capability. The rest of the squad respected and trusted you, but a certain Sergeant seemed determined to undermine your confidence at every turn.

"Remember, stick to the plan," Hunter ordered for what felt like the hundredth time as you adjusted your attire in the Marauder. The sleek dress you wore was perfect for the gala, accentuating your figure in a way that was both elegant and seductive. Which was a total change considering your normal attire of battered and worn armour and civvies that were desperate for a good wash.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. "I know the plan, Hunter," you retorted, turning to face him. The frustration in your voice was evident.

Hunter's eyes bore into yours, a mix of concern and frustration etched into his features. His jaw was set, the muscles in his neck tense. "One slip-up, and it could all go wrong. We can’t afford that."

You narrowed your eyes, knowing he was referring to the time when the plan had not gone exactly as intended. It had been a life-or-death situation, but you had learned from it. Besides, the only person you had put in danger was yourself, so you didn’t understand why he was still bitter about it.

"That 'slip-up' was months ago," you shot back, your temper flaring. "I’ve proven myself since then."

"I’ll believe it when I see it." Hunter’s tone was cold as he stormed off into the cockpit, leaving you staring daggers at his back. How insufferable could one man be?

You took a deep breath, trying not to let it get to you. You mentally and physically prepared yourself, going over the plan in your head with determination. You had this.

It was just a shame someone else didn’t think so.

The gala was in full swing. You slipped into the crowd as planned, your eyes on the target. You were enticing and seductive as you engaged him in conversation, your charm drawing him in instantly. Everything was going according to plan as he began to let slip his plans.

Then Hunter appeared.

His sudden arrival, a shadow in the background, disrupted your focus. The target noticed your concerned distraction, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Before you could salvage the situation, a gentle hand on his arm to draw his attention back to you, his arm wrapped around your neck into a chokehold as alarms started to blare, and chaos erupted.

Cursing under your breath, you freed yourself with ease and struck a punch straight to his gut before ducking to cover as blaster fire whizzed past your head. Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time. You barely managed to escape with the others, the mission a total failure. And this time, you refused to let it be seen as your fault.

Back on the Marauder, you let everything out. You marched up the gangplank, ripping the bangles off your wrists and the pins that had secured your hair in place, tossing them across the ship carelessly. You let everyone file in, steam practically blowing out of your ears as your eyes landed on the Sergeant.

"What is your problem? Why can’t you trust me?" you yelled as soon as the ramp closed behind you, your voice echoing through the ship. Your chest heaved with the effort of keeping your anger in check, your hands trembling slightly.

"You weren’t getting the job done!" Hunter growled, his tone dripping with frustration. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed in anger. "You just stood there twirling your drink around all night."

You stared at him in disbelief, looking to the others who avoided eye contact at all costs. "I wasn’t doing anything? Hunter, he was about to tell me his plans, and then you just swooped in like you have some damn savior complex."

His jaw tightened, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. "Maybe if you weren’t so reckless in the past, I could have let you get on with it."

"The client wanted me to do it. I wasn’t being reckless!" You seethed, turning red in the face. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. "One mistake, Hunter! Just one!" You stepped closer, your voice low and dangerous. "How many times do I have to prove myself?"

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, his fists just as tightly clenched as his jaw. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. "You don’t get it, do you? One mistake is all it takes to get you killed."

His words cut deep, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within you. Your heart pounded, each beat echoing your frustration and the feeling of being made to feel useless. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, a mix of rage and something more primal simmering just beneath the surface.

"Guys, stop it!" Omega’s voice trembled, her distress clear. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

Echo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let’s give them some space," he said softly, leading her towards the exit with Tech and Wrecker following. "They need to sort this out." He looked at both of you with a stern gaze before he left.

As the door closed, sealing you in the Marauder alone with Hunter, silence fell.

Finally, you both started to speak at once, voices overlapping. Hunter gestured for you to go ahead, his expression begrudging.

"I’m tired of this, Hunter," you began, your voice steady despite the storm inside you that was waiting to tear this ship apart. "Tired of you treating me like I’m not good enough. If this is how it’s going to be, maybe I should leave."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, anger, maybe something more—but he masked it quickly. "Maybe you should go," he said, his voice rough. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something softer. "I am done having to watch over you, babysitting you."

You scoffed at him, shaking your head in disbelief. "Has it ever come to your attention that maybe you’re the problem?" You pointed at his chest, your finger almost digging into the fabric of his shirt. "You’re weighing this whole team down recently, and I want to know why."

"There’s nothing wrong with my leadership," he snapped back, his voice sharp. But as he spoke, the space between you seemed to shrink. You were close, so close. His breath was hot on your skin. "You just don’t know how to be careful."

Your heart raced, the anger giving way to a heated flush spreading through your body. The proximity was intoxicating, his scent, his presence overwhelming your senses. You could feel the tension morphing into something you never thought you’d feel.

His breath was on your skin, his presence overwhelming. "Say the word, Hunter," you challenged, voice low into a whisper. "And I’ll go."

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His pupils were blown the more you looked at each other, breathing shallow. You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice.

Your hands rested on the underside of the console, securing you in place as you were practically backed up into it. And confusingly, you were a different type of riled up.

Then, you saw him wet his lower lip, just a touch that made your heart momentarily stop. And he noticed—he noticed. And he smirked. Of course he would; his heightened senses would be picking up on everything—the quickening of your pulse, the heat pooling between your thighs. You sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.

"Hunter," you spoke louder and hopefully more sternly, but the slight tremble in your tone begged to differ. "Tell me you want me to go."

His eyes momentarily closed, conflict spreading across his features. "Tell me to go," you whispered again, but again came no reply.

You waited for a few more moments before you found yourself laughing, almost pitifully. For yourself, and for him. "I don’t have time for this," you grumbled and turned to move away from him, but there was a sudden hold on your arm, stopping you completely.

Your gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide. His, however, flickered down your body, lingering, then met yours again, blazing with an intensity that made your heart stop once more. The silence stretched, electric, until you could bear it no longer. "Hunter?" you whispered.

Suddenly, he pulled you closer, body flush against his and his lips just inches from yours. With a soft murmur, voice hoarse, he said, "Don’t go."

Your breath hitched, your body responding to the unspoken desire in his words. The bitterness, the anger, it all melted away, leaving only a new and raw need. You both closed the gap, lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss.

His hands roamed your body, finding their way to the small of your back while your hands tangled in his hair, running and tugging the textured locks through your fingers. You gasped as he pulled you even closer than before, his body pressing you back to the control panel. The heat of his touch pushed shivers of excitement down your spine. How was this happening? And why didn’t it feel wrong?

Hunter pulled back just enough to mutter against your lips, “I’ve always cared. More than I should.”

You met his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, and whispered, “Then show me.”

His response was immediate and fervent. Hunter lifted you effortlessly, placing you onto the console before his strong hands slipped under your dress, his touch rough and impatient, yet undeniably thrilling. His fingers traced the length of your legs, caressing your thighs and emitting electric jolts of desire through you.

"You were so worked up when we were arguing," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "I could smell how wet you were for me."

You were speechless. Then, you gasped as his fingers trailed further up, hiking your dress higher until his hands cupped your sex. The realisation that you were bare beneath the dress, no panties to obstruct his touch made him breathless.

"Fuck," he breathed shakily, his fingers slipping between your folds, feeling the slickness there. "No panties? That’s… that’s so sexy of you." He purrs, gauging your reaction as he brushes a thumb over your clit. “And you’re so wet.”

Your breath hitched, a moan escaping your lips as he began to explore you. His fingers moved expertly, teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You arched into him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. “H-Hunter!”

"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "To be fucked by me?"

You could only nod, biting your lip hard as your voice lost to the sensations overwhelming you. His fingers thrust in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit with an agonisingly beautiful precision. “Mmm, you like this don’t you? You feel beautiful.” The pleasure builds quickly, a coil of heat tightening in your core.

“I love it, Hunter.” You gasp. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Hunter’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he worked you towards the edge. "So tight around my fingers."

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more as your body shakes. His pace quickened, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your body trembled, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice a rough caress as his lips breathe down your neck. "Come for me. I know you can do it. Come all over my fingers, baby girl.”

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered. His fingers, the pace, his pet names, everything makes your climax crash over you in throbbing waves. Hunter didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their relentless thrash on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess, your juices pouring down your thighs.

When he finally pulled his fingers from you, they were slick with your cum. His gaze locked with yours, dazed and in awe as you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a greedy hunger. The sight of him, the feel of his lips around his fingers, sent another jolt of arousal through you. “You l-look good doing that,” you say bashfully, even more so as he collected more on the fingers he just sucked and placed them flat against his tongue, groaning desperately.

"You taste incredible," he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. "I never thought someone could taste so sweet."

Without another word, he sank to his knees before you, spreading your legs wider to grant him better access as he pushed your dress up again. The sight of him there, between your thighs, was definitely a sight to behold.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the console. His breath was hot against your swollen folds, making you shudder in eagerness. "I want to taste you again," he smirks, his tone low and gravelly. "I want you to come on my tongue."

“Take me, Hunter, it’s all yours.” The first swipe of his tongue was both a shock and a relief. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the locks to hold him in place.

"Hunter," you moaned, your voice trembling. "Oh, fuck."

His tongue moved with a desperate hunger, lapping at your folds and circling your clit with a precision that made you writhe. He groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the intense pleasure building inside you. “I love hearing you swear… such a dirty mouth.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of that intense sensation. Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising as holds you steady as literally he devoured you. He alternated between long, slow licks and rapid, flicking movements that had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. The sounds he made—groans, grunts, and the slick noises of his mouth on your wetness—only heightened the moment as you matched his sounds with tender moans of your own.

You tugged at his hair, needing him closer, deeper. "Don’t stop," you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate as you begin to roll your hips against his face. "Please, don’t stop."

He didn’t. If anything, your words spurred him on, his tongue working even more fervently. He sucked on your clit, gently at first, then harder, drawing it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it before plunging his finger into you for that extra push. Your entire body tensed, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

You cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as you came again, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you shaking, more so than before.

Slowly, he pulled back from your cunt, his lips glistening with your aftermath. He looked up at you, his eyes blown and satisfied. "Stars, I can’t get enough of you… I’ve dreamt about being between your legs.”

His words surprised you, wondering if he was just saying it in the heat of the moment or if he was saying the truth but for now, you could only nod, still trying to catch your breath. Your body hummed with satisfaction, every nerve ending still tingling from the intensity of your release. Hunter stood, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips.

"You’re amazing," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slow, languid, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, sharing your taste between you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice a soft rumble.

“But… I thought you didn’t want me.” You whisper against his lips, eyes closed as you try to get your head around everything.

He sighs, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve been pushing you away because… I couldn’t imagine if anything bad were to happen to you.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” you reiterate, a little bitter as you pull your head back, “but you…” you piece it all together, his obvious jealousy of you and that guy tonight, his toughness of overprotectiveness. He cared. In a bad way. But alas, he cared. And a part of you always wanted him. You were just too determined never to admit it.

“I’m sorry,” he says with honesty, his hands leaving your hips to take a hold of each of your hands, “I really am.”

You search his face, coming to your conclusion. Hunter's eyes blazed with need as you gently pushed him back. At first he thought you were going to push him away completely, telling him this was a mistake but then, you dropped to your knees before him.

Hunter's eyes widened in surprise but then glowed with hunger while your hands were steady, moving to his belt, undoing it. With your voice husky with desire, you whisper. "Let me?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. You freed his hardened cock from the confines of his pants, the sight of it making your mouth water instantly. “You have such a beautiful cock,” you say sweetly, giving it an experimental pump. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip, tasting the precum that had already gathered there from earlier antics.

Hunter groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, gently guiding you. "Fuck, you’re beautiful," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was barely managing to hold onto. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, your tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back, exposing his throat. You glanced up, taking in the sight of him—the way his lips parted, the way his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. It spurred you on. It made you want to give him everything.

You started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length, taking him as deep as you could. Each time you pulled back, you flicked your tongue over the sensitive tip, making him shudder. You could feel his control slipping, his hips starting to thrust gently into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice ragged. “You’re so good at this.” His free hand grasps your jaw, holding your head in place as his gentle thrusts become more eager. “That’s it baby.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you doubled your efforts, sucking him harder, faster and matching his thrusts. You reached up, cupping his balls and rolling them gently in your hand, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on your hair tighter. Soon his hand on your jaw moved to your throat, chuckling as he practically felt the way your throat contracts and tightens with every time he moves in and out of your mouth.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he panted. “Keep going, keep going.”

But then he pulled you back, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. He was breathing hard, his eyes wild with need. “I can’t… I need you,” he growled, pulling you up to your feet.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was lifting you, your back pressed against the console again but with your dress being ripped away from your body. He spread your thighs, and then he was there, his cock pressing against your entrance.

He slid into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sensation of him filling you completely made you cry out, your breathing harsh. “Hunter,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips starting a relentless rhythm. “Such a nice pussy, so perfect.”

He moved with a desperation that matched your own, each thrust deep and hard, hitting that perfect spot inside you. You start to grin, never having been so fucked desperately in all your life. He was disheveled, panting your name like a man starved as his cock sinks deep into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more. A lot more. “You’re fucking me so good, Hunter! D-don’t stop.”

“You’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His sudden words sent you over the edge, your body tensing as another orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks and claiming him.

“Yes, come for me,” he urged, his thrusts growing more erratic. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

You did, your body spasming around him, milking him. His grip on your hips tightened, his own release imminent. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to fill you up,” he panted. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his body shuddering against yours. You held him close, your own body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, his breath slowly evening out.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer now, more tender.

You smiled, your hands gently caressing his back as you both succumbed to the evening. “I love you too.”

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

@greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420

@ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 1 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka a @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino

[aquagirl1978]

OMG !!! requests are open (and idk what's the right way to request but imma try :3) ahem, miss aqua may i please have william (ikevil) + wearing his clothes?

I added my own prompt, is that okay? :]

Hellooooo Inky! Thank you for this request - I had fun with this one. Maybe too much fun. I had so many different ideas as to where I could go with this, maybe one day I'll write some of those alternate scenes. Hope you enjoy this 😊

This Kiss

A/N: Part of my Naughty or Nice event. Pairing: William Rex x Reader (William's POV) Prompt: wearing his clothes Word Count: 1017 Tags: fluff

I was on my way back to the castle when I heard the most beautifully sweet music drifting through the gardens. Recognizing the melody, I smiled and hurried my pace; my robin was playing for me and I mustn’t make her wait.

I stood at the doorway, silently observing you, savoring every second you played. When we first met, you couldn’t play a single note. But look at you now – no longer my student, you’re now a master of the music you make. So determined to learn, you practiced at a dizzying pace until you were able to play even complex pieces on your own. Watching you grow as a musician, I grew prouder every day, even after that day when you were able to play without me by your side.

I knew as soon as I sat down next to you that you were up to something; why else would you lure me in with the first piece of music I taught you to play? The small glances you stole – quick, sneaky, happy glances – did not go unnoticed by me. And when your gaze drifted from my eyes, from my face, and lingered elsewhere, that was all the confirmation I needed.

I sat quietly after you finished playing;  you led me here, you were in charge.

“I thought we’d play a game today,” you said, your voice quiet as if you were suddenly a bit shy. Maybe rethinking your idea. 

Sing louder, my shy, sweet robin. I’m dying to indulge you and play your game.

“Oh?” I replied with a small hint of a smile. I didn’t need to tell you how excited I was; you knew me well enough by now to know how I was feeling.

“We’ve been together for a while now….” Yes, far longer than I’ve ever let anyone in. “and we’ve shared a few kisses. Or…” Oh, you’re getting nervous. You’re so adorable when you get shy and flustered. But please keep going. For me. “...a lot of kisses.” I like where this is going. “But earlier today, I thought, there has to be somewhere or someway we haven’t kissed yet.” 

I am going to love this game.

“When do we start?” I asked. I didn’t care that I looked like a lovestruck fool as I gazed into your eyes. When I was with you, I had no need to wear any masks and hide away my feelings.

I smiled as you tipped your face closer to mine, the anticipation of the kiss almost sweeter than the kiss itself. Your lips brushed against mine gently. Soft and quick. The kind of kiss that said hello or good morning, the kind of kiss a couple might exchange every day. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that, my dear, sweet robin,” I whispered, my eyes still closed. “How many times have I rewarded you with kisses when you were learning to play the piano? How many kisses did you steal while I was teaching you?”

I opened my eyes and was greeted with your adorable face that I love so much. I should reward you with a kiss for putting up with my teasing. But I won’t. Not yet.

You rose from the piano and walked around the side, retrieving a small bowl you must have hidden there earlier. I was curious as to what was in the bowl, but didn’t have to wait long to find out what was hiding in there. 

I watched you place the strawberry slice on the tip of your tongue. Tempting me with my favorite food was an evil trick, my naughty robin. How many times have I kissed you, my lips – or yours – still sweet with the taste of fresh berries? I still remember the time you wanted my berry so badly, you stole it right from between my teeth. I gladly let you have it then; I was enamored by how you so boldly took what you wanted. Even my precious strawberry.

I went after you this time. My mouth chasing yours, I wasn't satisfied until my lips were pressed firmly against yours, my tongue seeking the sinfully sweet taste of yours. 

That didn’t make this kiss any less sweet. But, it still was not a new kiss. 

And you knew that.

“Tell me what you want, my darling robin.” My lips hovered over yours; I was in no rush to end your game, but I was so very eager to witness that moment when you finally reached out and grabbed what you sought.

“How did you know….” you muttered, your lips still so close to mine I felt your warm breath.

Your eyes sparkled like a shining star dancing across the night sky. My gaze tracked yours, and before the words spilled from your parted lips, I already knew what you wanted.

“Give me this,” you finally said, your fingers curling around the checkerboard fabric of my cloak.  

Yes, my darling, I like where this is going. Demand, don’t ask; I will give you everything you want and more.

I did a poor job controlling my excitement as I undid the clasp on my cloak. You gave me a look; it's not going there, your eyes told me. 

Yet.

I removed the fabric from around my shoulders and wrapped you in it. With my hands still on your shoulders, you immediately smiled; I hoped it felt like you were being wrapped in me. 

“Now kiss me.”

It would be my pleasure. 

This kiss. This kiss was everything. As you pressed your hand upon my chest, I could feel you breathe your everything into me, filling me with every bit of your love. I covered your hand with mine, our fingers linked together over my heart. 

I leaned in, close enough to kiss you again, and whispered softly, “Red really is your color.”

With my head empty and my heart full, I was prepared to spend the rest of the day like this. With you, my darling robin. Wishing we could kiss like this everyday until that day when we meet our beautiful destiny together.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza

@xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777

@silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @sh0jun @chandeliermichel

[morganbritton132]

Idk if you’ve mentioned it before but what is everyone in the Party’s jobs?? We already know Erica is a kickass politician and Lucas is the family embarrassment doctor but what does everyone else do besides bug Steve lol?

Also is Dustin still with Susie or did that ship sail away in the EMTTS?? <333

So, fun fact about me: I am not a big fan of future AUs. I don’t particularly like reading them and I’ve never written one prior to the Tiktok Saga. I think the problem I have with them is that it’s really hard to determine where a character should be thirty-odd years down the road. How or why a one-off post about Eddie being bad with technology turned into all this, I do not know.

I don’t have everybody’s job picked out because I don’t really think about it until it’s relevant to the story, but luckily, I do spend way too much time thinking about this AU so I have few that haven’t been mentioned.

The ones that have been mentioned: Steve is a teacher, Eddie’s a musician, Nancy’s a journalist, Jonathan’s a photographer, Lucas is a doctor, and Erica is a senator.

I think Argyle owns a very successful marijuana dispensary in California where him and Jonathan live and it gives him the freedom to travel with Jonathan when he goes out of town for business. Argyle just has the vibe that should not be working a nine-to-five. Also, I think that Argyle as an old man stoner with long completely gray hair is just so cool.

Robin is also a teacher, but she teaches at a university in the linguistics department. She spoke four languages when she joined the party, she now speaks nine. She’s written a book. She has a kickass rating on Rate My Professor. She’s likely the front runner to take over the department once the current dean retires next year.

I really like the idea of Max becoming a physical therapist. She had a long road to recovery after Venca and spent over a year in physical therapy just learning how to walk again. She knows what it’s like. She knows when and how hard to push her patients, and she’s good at the job. This also makes Max a doctor so Erica includes Max when she says that Lucas is the worst Sinclair.

I’m less defined on what kind of careers that Will, Mike, and El have. I just haven’t found a job that I’m like, yes, that makes perfect sense for that character. I do think that Will has a career where he can be creative and that he’s successful, I just haven’t narrowed it down to what exactly he does.

Mike and El, on the other hand, I have no idea. I mentioned before that Mike had a band that opened up for Eddie on CC’s first national tour and I imagine that he did one summer or during his gap year before college (if he went to college). El, I like to think, travels a lot and has got to see the world and be free of the responsibility of saving the world. But those two, I think, are tough to pin down to a specific career.

Now, for Dustin.

Dustin has had a very successful career as a researcher and his career has taken him all over the world. Now what exactly does he research? That’s up to you. This man is a scientist and that’s all Steve and Eddie can tell you about Dustin’s job because it’s just over of their heads. He loves it and that’s all they need to know.

Dustin and Suzie are currently not together. They have dated off and on since they’ve known each other and have always split on good terms. It has just always been the wrong time for them because when they’re together, they’re great. They hit it off and decide to start dating again, and then they just get busy. They’re both top of their field and work crazy long hours all over the world, and the cost of that is their relationship.

I think they both kinda know that one day, they’ll meet up at the right time, but for now, they’re good friends and they date other people. Steve thinks that they’re soulmates and he’ll randomly give Dustin an update that Suzie is single again. Dustin is always like, “How do you know that?”

“We’re friends on Facebook.”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

hi! i have a question i’m directing at you bc i’ve seen the idea going around tumblr but most recently on your post — if a student is caught using ai to cheat do you think that’s worth expulsion? should that be the best case scenario punishment? while i understand the importance of making it known to students the severity of using chatgp, at the same time i feel like that’s a very harsh punishment for being caught cheating. but then also at the same time! i’m not a teacher and i don’t know if it’s possible to teach a student to value their education and the opportunity they have for high learning if they don’t already personally believe that the opportunity is a gift. idk! this isn’t really a structured question but i guess i’m curious about how you (or in general, how professors) feel about expulsion for chatgp (i know you’re just one person and don’t speak on behalf of all educators lol but it’s just something i’ve been curious about)

Expulsion as in, ejected wholesale from the entire university, Do Not Darken Our Door Again? No, I don't.

I think what outsiders tend to miss is that students who do this, 99% of the time, are desperate. Something has gone terribly wrong, they're desperate to meet those deadlines and get that work done, and in my experience it's almost always wrapped up in neurodivergence (usually undiagnosed) and frequently a home situation that's made their lives a shit show and pushed academia to a back burner.

But, it's a more serious issue than high school cheating on a multiple choice quiz. Degrees are crafted to have quality assurance built in, and with good reason. The whole point of a degree is that it's proof of higher learning, and specialist knowledge - you get a higher salary (in theory lol) because your employer is paying for the very expensive training you've undergone. This is particularly important in something like medicine or construction, because if you haven't actually completed all parts of that degree you could kill someone; but even in my own field, if you fundamentally don't understand the physical processes of a sand dune as well as its ecology, and someone hires you to manage that sand dune... well, it's going to be an over-stabilised mess in about five years' time and you've killed the rare sand lizards and mining bees that were living there. And if your degree is a course in an institution who is famous for producing top quality environmental workers who know this stuff... well, you've just made your uni course look very, very bad in industry.

So unis are protective of their quality assurance, and that means they do not like cheaters. And I do agree with that, that's fair enough.

For me, though, I think the answer is not full expulsion. I would run it like this:

Confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the student has indeed cheated. This must be confirmed.

IF NOT CONFIRMED: Mark the work strictly. Pair this with a viva - the student must be able to answer questions about the work from two lecturers with subject expertise, plus someone from the Academic Office (although that latter person can just observe only). This will determine how deep their knowledge is vs what they submitted, and should be factored into the overall mark.

IF CONFIRMED: Module fail, all marks for those credits set to zero, and the information included on transcripts (not why they failed, just that they attempted the module and got zero.) HOWEVER, the student is allowed one resit attempt; this might mean having to redo the year as a part-time student just to get that module, depending on how it's taught and how important it is.

All of the above with the understanding that their work is going to now be checked very closely going forward for repeat issues. In confirmed cases, a viva is now a required part of future work.

To be fair, mind, proving cheating is genuinely very hard, so depending on how strict the uni is, that's roughly the system that gets used anyway. Your work is very strictly marked, you get viva'd, and you usually fail on quality anyway (especially if your flavour of cheating was ChatGPT, because what it produces is shit.) After you've failed, gone through a resit period, and been capped at a pass mark for the fail, you realise pretty quickly that it would have been less stress and effort for a higher mark to just do the work yourself. And that's a learning curve everyone should be allowed, I think.

[alister312]

You mentioned having some thoughts about Gregory's upbringing,, could you get into them?

I DO!! so often I’m exploring Christophe’s upbringing in my one shots mostly bc Just Business, my big Gregstophe fic from back in the day, is from Gregory’s POV and meant to focus a lot on how I feel about him on his own and within his relationship with Christophe. so since then in one shots I’ve been touching more on who Christophe is and him within their relationship.

however, I’ve recently been reading Rain Country (which somehow I’d never read before??) and that fic is Gregory-centric and has a lot of him growing up so it’s been making me think about him.

I’ve said in the past that I like the idea of Gregory’s parents being college professors and I still do, but I think it makes more sense if his parents are more classic— that is to say, wealthy socialites. I don’t think they’re the type to be intentionally cruel towards Gregory (not in the way Christophe’s mother is with him) but they definitely heaped way too much pressure on him from an earlier age to perform well and maybe weren’t the most emotionally available people (Gregory had a number of au pairs growing up that raised him more than they did). his parents wanted things for Gregory that were conventionally good within their social circles. this includes stuff like cotillion, etiquette classes, rigorous study programs, lots of extra curricular lessons of different kinds, etc. theoretically, the world at his fingertips.

despite this, they didn’t really consider who Gregory is as a person and what he really wants. nor did they ever really treat him like a child, which I think is a big part of why he can’t seem to connect with others his own age. they never really drop any of these expectations for him as he gets older too. Gregory certainly learns to stand up for himself more and be vocal about what he wants, but they are just like “what a fun quirky phase you’re going through!” bc they are so determined to keep their ideal image of him.

Christophe detests Gregory’s parents and often comments on it (especially starting in middle school), but Gregory believes that Christophe is just biased against parents in general since his mother was so awful. it gets hard for Gregory to tell what is stuff he truly enjoys or what is stuff he unconsciously conditioned himself to enjoy for his parents’ sakes.

honestly the best end for him is if he were able to just cut contact with his parents like Christophe definitely does with his. of course, their influence would linger, but I think he would become an infinitely more pleasant person when he doesn’t have to feel the need to constantly perform for them. I see him as always feeling the need to be a very dutiful son though (martyr complex as well as general strong sense of duty) so idk if he’d ever actually go through with it.

[beforelunacy]

Trying to figure out where I stand in regards to low/medium/high support needs and if I have level 1/2/3 autism is… challenging.

I mean I know for sure I don’t have level 3 autism, but what I mean is I was diagnosed when functioning labels were in favor. So I’m still learning about the level system and I’m not sure how to determine what level I am? Because everything I find about it seems to focus solely on the social aspects.

Socially, I think I would be a level 1. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and training to be able to navigate social situations, but I still need additional support and understanding for when I do or say things that don’t seem to make sense.

In terms of communication, I fluctuate between a 1 and 2. I’m an award winning essayist and am getting a master’s degree in English, and yet I’m semi verbal (I experience frequent episodes of speech loss).

I also experience extreme difficulty in understanding my own and other’s emotions. There are things I’ve accepted that I will just never understand why they’re considered bad because I can’t wrap my head around why someone might be upset by them.

In terms of sensory issues, though, I require a lot of assistance. If I lived alone, I would probably die or suffer extremely. I struggle to recognize when I need to use the bathroom, when I need to shower, when I need to eat, when I need to drink. My body doesn’t tell me when it needs something so if I don’t focus really hard or schedule ‘maintenance’ for my body, I just completely neglect it. I also struggle immensely to do regular tasks like laundry or grocery shopping, and my ARFID gets so bad sometimes that I wish I had a fucking feeding tube so I could avoid eating altogether.

This post doesn’t have a point really. I’m just confused about functioning labels and levels of autism. Because while I’m a level 1 by the standards of the articles I’ve read, I still need substantial support in every other aspect of my life. Without therapy and training, I would be a level 2, but since I’ve had that training, I’m a level 1 in social situations. But in every other aspect of my life, I require a lot of support…. So idk where I fit in

[arwenkenobi48]

So I got some last minute resolutions/goals for 2024 (and beyond) that I just wanna shovel out real quick

Idk if you’d classify people pleasing and codependency as the same thing (or at least in the same kinda scale) but I’ve been reflecting on just how much I need to change that and I’m now determined more than ever to do so. Starting emotional regulation therapy in just a few days from now and I’m going to use the skills I learn there wisely. Heck, the few sessions of normal therapy I’ve been having are already making a positive impact. It’s slow, but it’s definitely happening and I can feel that beginning to form within me.

Also, I’m getting closer and closer to reaching my spot on the gender clinic waiting list. I’ll most likely reach it around my 25th birthday. I’m 23 and a half now, going to be 24 this time in the next six months. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d make it this far, but here I am nonetheless. But I digress. The point is, I know that transitioning medically is gonna be a helluva process but it’ll be worth it. That, combined with the progress I’m sure I’ll make in therapy, will guide me through the next stage of my rebirth, my metamorphosis into the man I know I can be. So I’m going to keep striving for that too.

And finally, once I’ve made a little more progress with my healing journey, I intend to start looking for love in an irl relationship. Ofc I know it’s going to be a long time before I’m ready to reach that point, but contrary to what I thought earlier this year, I think it is definitely possible to achieve and that’s another thing I have to keep me going. For now though, I need to concentrate on healing.

Honestly, I think I’ve got a much better understanding of just how much work that entails and the depths of how my life experiences have shaped me. I can see a lot more clearly just how to work on myself and why, how to shed the maladaptive coping mechanisms I needed to survive when I was younger and how I can improve myself. I know that healing isn’t a linear journey and there are many days when it’s far from easy, but I’ll get through it, even on the days when I feel like I won’t.

Ultimately, I think the most important resolution I can make at this point in time is to be there for myself. Through thick and thin, rain or shine. It’s hard, but I can do it and I have faith that I will. I will get where I need to be. Sure, my life’s taking a different path than what you’d expect from a guy in his early 20s, but that’s ok. If my path gets me where I need to be, then I’ll keep going forward. Here’s to a bright future and a new year that brings positive growth and new beginnings.

Year of the Dragon, here I come!

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Never have I ever. . .A Little Red Riding Hood AU?

This is so very very specific and unexpected 😆

But my first impulse is to make Willie Red and Caleb as… omg ok. This is a bit off the rails but you get what you get 😂

OK so Willie is Red and he’s sent through the woods to take his grandparent (Caleb who is somehow eternally young) something. Maybe it’s potion ingredients for said youthfulness. Maybe it’s cookies. Idk. 

He’s met en route by the Big Bad Wolf (Alex, maybe he’s a shapeshifter? idk) who tries to intercept him/steal his basket. Willie can’t figure out why this wolf keeps trying to steal his shit and keeps fighting him off. Alex eventually gives up and leaves Willie alone. 

When Willie makes it to Caleb’s only to become witness to a magical fight between Caleb and this now anthropomorphised wolf. Alex had been sort of following (by walking ahead and exploring the area and then circling back) Willie because he didn’t actually know where Caleb lived and just beat him there. Hm. Maybe Caleb has the area charmed so nobody can find it most of the time but it drops momentarily when Willie is getting there?

Anyway, Alex defeats Caleb who explodes into a cloud of dust and Willie absolutely loses his shit - trying to beat Alex with whatever he can find (probably a broom) (he’s not magic. Or at least doesn’t know he is. Didn’t even really know magic existed until 2 seconds ago. No, he never questioned why his grandparent looked eternally 40 or lived alone in the woods). 

He’s obviously unsuccessful and the ridiculousness of it all causes Alex to break down in laughter, transforming into his entirely human form due to the lack of control (he probably doesn’t have clothes). 

Willie is gobsmacked and stops beating Alex with the broom. When Alex manages to calm down, Willie finds him clothes from inside Caleb’s cottage and starts berating him. Alex manages to calm him down and then explains that Caleb was actually evil and they’ve been trying to either find him or cut off access to his magical supplies for decades (centuries? Idk) and finally got their opportunity after watching Willie’s journeys over the years and piecing it all together.

“Who’s we?”

And then a couple of meeker creatures come out of the woods (I’ve now determined that they can only transform into a single creature type and Alex is the only one who is a large and strong enough predator to take on Caleb and for some reason their human forms aren’t strong enough to battle). Reggie is a chipmunk and Luke is a deer.

He then learns about magic and how to wield his own and befriends the weird little trio, rebridging them to the human world. 

The End!

Thank you thank you thank you! I hope you enjoy this weird little journey.

never have I ever

[spiteless-xo]

IM GONNA RAMBLE!! im so glad sasha was asking the real questions 😭 thats why she should’ve been there earlier 🤨 but anywho.. djshdh i was wondering since there’s 5 chapters left are we going to find out who she’s with on the final chapter ? idk i feel like based on this chapter it kinda sounds like it’s gonna be eren? but reader is so unpredictable it’s still not obvious to me.. OR WAIT 💡☝️ i don’t think you’re gonna answer that question so i’ll just theorize LMAO ok so i’ve seen other people mention this but maybe she IS gonna go on that little trip or vacation and then there’s gonna be a time skip because i do think at this point, the three of them need space from all this drama and to work themselves out. like maybe she shouldn’t be jumping into a relationship rn? IDK I THINK THATS WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN. maybe that’s also why eren didn’t answer, like she took too long deciding and he’s gonna be taking a break for himself too to actually work on himself.

i think throughout the story i started off as team eren and then i kept switching until the both of them made me go like 🥴. but that doesn’t mean i loved your writing any less. i think once i stopped being on “teams” lol i still appreciated that you made everyone with a lot of flaws and drama. eren would’ve been perfect minus the whole misogyny thing obvi. and if i HAD to choose only between him and jean, the only reason why i would choose jean rather than eren is because he at least wasn’t doing what eren was doing. but that’s the ONLY reason. jean just isn’t as charming or romantic 😭 he’s too dry for me (i’m sorry)

if this was real life, i don’t think anyone would ever forgive eren even if it was in the past or if he “changed” but bc it’s fiction i guess that’s why some people are being more lenient? omgjfgk but i wishh sometimes that we could have had a story with eren except not with this type of drama LMAO you wrote him being romantic TOO well. like i was in love *twirls hair, kicks feet* ANYWAYS GREAT CHAPTER AS ALWAYS tuesdays are my favorite days because of you! 🤍

omg ty so much for sending this in!! hehehe i loved reading all of it 🥰💗

tbaw ramblings below

yes, you'll find out in the final chapter! the final chapter is also ridiculously long in order to flesh out the endings for everyone. i thought about splitting it up into two chapters but there's not really a good "cut off" point. and i don't want to drag out the ending.

to me, it's like when the final episode is an hour-long special or whatever for the finale lol that's like the final chapter of tbaw. atm it's a little bit longer than the jean fucking kirstein chapter.

forgiveness is a really interesting concept to me. it doesn't really help the person you're forgiving (in this case, eren), because they still have to carry the guilt of what they've done, but it kinda frees you, in a way.

you can forgive someone without allowing them a place in your life. it doesn't mean you trust them or you like them or whatever, it just means that you're not going to let what they did continue to hurt you.

forgiving eren doesn't make him a good person. it's what he does and how he lives the rest of his life that determines whether or not he's learned from his past and reader doesn't necessarily have to be in his life after she forgives him.

idk if that makes sense? i'm also a generally pretty forgiving person, so i'm pretty lenient lol but i also understand that there are things that are completely unforgivable, but i'm just rambling now so i'll stop lol

anyway i'm glad you're liking the story!! 💗💗💗

[catsniffer420]

I read something recently about how world peace is surely unattainable if we can’t even make peace in our personal lives.

How can I hope to contribute to world peace and conflict resolution, if I actively avoid conflict, if I practice passivity, cowardice, dishonesty?

If, rather than facing it with determination, I turn away from unease and conflict in my own life? If I’m too cowardly to speak to people about difficult situations, if I’m unwilling to respect a friend enough to do the uncomfortable thing when we have a disagreement and face/resolve conflict (when it’s healthy, safe, and possible to do so)?

It really struck a chord in me and inspired me to be a bit more brave. Assertive communication is a challenge for me - I’m a “flight” rather than “fight” response kind of person. I’d rather* ignore a problem, avoid difficult conversations and emotions, and even ghost someone rather than talk about whatever they did that made me uncomfortable. It’s unhealthy, unfair, and I know it’s not good.

*I would rather NOT do these things, but the way I learned to communicate in my formative years was not healthy and it has been a slow process to unlearn these things.

So today, I replied to a former friend who sent me a holiday greeting - I would rather be polite and confirm that there is no bad blood between us, even if I don’t want to continue that friendship anymore. I chose to text her back instead of ignoring her completely… even if it made me anxious. I’m still not brave enough to tell her why I stopped hanging out with her :/

Making peace with others starts right here with ourselves I guess. Before we can even bother with making peaceful wider communities. Idk. Just something I’ve been thinking about.

[betterpathoflyfe]

Hello!

I hope it’s ok to send you this ask but I saw your reblog about as women we need hobbies and things we focus on and not just work/ education etc and as a Christian woman, I often felt like I absolutely needed time to spend on hobbies and doing things that I could ‘give to God’ too since I came to Christ and it’s been a learning process and I know my identity is in christ but lately I’ve been feeling this overwhelming pressure on myself like I’m not good enough if I’m not constantly over working or what society deems as sufficient idk but I’ve also recently decided to take a break from studying until next semester and I just feel like idk how to not constantly feel like I’m doing the wrong thing or even man’s work like society tells me all the time it’s so stressful :/

Hey, no problem! It can certainly be difficult finding this balance, especially when our end-goal is to honor God. But a couple of things to remember:

1) This feeling and pressure of “not being good enough” is NOT from God, but STRAIGHT from the enemy!! This common lie/attack of the enemy is to try and convince you that you have to work for God’s love, or try to earn it. But again, it’s a lie because it is by grace you have been saved! (Ephesians 2:8) A literal gift from God! Jesus doesn’t want you constantly overworking or stressed — He just wants your heart.

2) Looking to society is honestly only going to make you feel like you’re in lack because the standards of society are constantly changing. This is why I encourage you to continue reading and studying His Word! His Truth is what we can depend on and look to as we continue to become true women of God. (Remember Romans 12:2 — “Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is — his good, pleasing and perfect will.”🤍)

3) Even Jesus took time to Himself to rest!! He knew the importance of taking time away to rest and refuel (through prayer — Matthew 6:46), and if He needed to so, you can bet that we need to as well!

4) Since you mentioned that you are taking a break from college until next semester, I’ll advise with this! This is really the time to hone in and determine what really interests you and what kind of career you’d like down the line. But take your time! Do research, take a few career quizzes, etc. and see what sort of future you’d like for yourself. Habukkuk 2 states how we should write down the vision, so write it down as you do that research! And then pray on it, and see where God leads you!

This is also where hobbies & habits come in! Sometimes, I do a Google search just to figure out new hobbies lol. But there’s so many different ones out there that you can try, and still honor God as well! It could be something like painting, but playing Gospel music in the background. Or reading more books, but they the topics are about bettering yourself in Christ! Either way, it’s a process, and doesn’t happen overnight!

Give yourself grace, love! And as you read your Word, I pray that You realize just how much Jesus loves you! You’re right — your identity is rooted in Christ and He is with you!🤍

Hope this helped!!🫶🏿🤍

[erin-bo-berin]

hey I love ur writing sm!! But i was wondering if you could make a Steve x Reader based on the reader having some sort of eating disorder and Steve just try to help as much as possible even though he doesn't know much about it (I’m really in a shitty mood rn since I’m trying my best to recover from my ED and idk if this could be a way to cope but yeah.) if it’s okay with you!!

Thank you! And I would love to write this. I’ll try to make it a bit vaguer since I don’t want it to be too triggering for you or anyone else. It will also be from Steve’s point of view if that’s okay ☺️

Also, my love and thoughts are with you. I’ve never personally dealt with it, but I do have mental health issues I struggle greatly with. I know that’s not the exact same thing, but I know it’s a hard uphill journey.

That being said, I believe in you, anon. You’ve got this. Don’t let those demons win because you’re stronger than you think. I love you, you can DO this ❤️

One Day At A Time

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of reader suffering from an eating disorder

(If you find you aren’t in the right head space to read this, please if you need to, save it and come back to it when you’re in a better place. I promise I won’t be mad ❤️)

Steve spent an entire weekend at the library doing research.

He wasn’t too familiar with eating disorders, though he’d heard about them. He still felt like shit that he hadn’t even noticed anything wrong with you. He’d been your boyfriend of more than a year and he’d hadn’t noticed anything unusual. What kind of boyfriend did that make him?

Turns out, people learn to hide it well.

You had from him.

It was only until you’d started looking too thin, your clothes hanging off of you that he’d started to worry. The once lively spark in your eyes, the happiness that you always radiated had vanished from your eyes.

He’d had no idea just how hard you were fighting unseen demons.

After the diagnosis, your parents had sent you to treatment and he hadn’t seen you for a month. It was a short stint, peppered with phone calls to each other as he wasn’t allowed to visit. You and he were reuniting today and he’d spent time trying to figure out how to help you.

Obviously, he wasn’t trying to heal you himself, but he wanted to be as supportive as possible. After all, he hurt too seeing you in such pain.

He knew it was going to take time, it was going to be difficult, but he believed in you with his whole heart. But, he was determined that you weren’t going to go through this, alone.

•

The moment you stepped into his arms when you first arrived, he wrapped you in his arms, holding on to you tightly.

Maybe if he kept you safe in his arms, the bad thoughts wouldn’t be able to get to you. How he wished it worked like that.

You looked better, more at peace. You didn’t look tired, beaten down and worn like you had just a month ago. There was color in your cheeks and a small, happy smile one your face.

“I missed you,” you murmured into his chest.

He ran his hand over the back of your head, cradling it, kissing the top of your head. His hand slid down to the back of your neck and he pulled away enough to look down at you.

“I missed you too, Y/N.”

He leaned in to kiss you gently and you returned the gesture, pulling away after a moment, your smile a bit brighter.

He’d offered for you to stay with him for the first little while—if you were comfortable doing so. You’d readily agreed, nervous to be alone in your place. It wasn’t a big deal anyways since you spent most of your time at his place anyway. In actuality, he just wanted you to be close. Not to smother you or watch you like a hawk. He just wanted to be there for you, even in your darkest moments. That’s why he voiced his next thought out loud, just to remind you.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

•

“I’m not hungry,” you’d said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He’d fixed dinner for the both of you, something that was completely healthy and even smelled so good, he was looking forward to it. He’d managed to whip up some lemon pepper chicken, stir fried broccoli and rosemary garlic potatoes.

Nancy would be proud. For all her tough exterior, the girl knew how to cook and she’d helped him in the month you’d been gone.

He had learned that that was just a diversion tactic of your illness, so he didn’t push. He sat the two plates he was holding down on the coffee table in front of you two and sat down next to you.

He wouldn’t push it. He knew better than to be hard on you.

“That’s okay,” he said, “Is it a bad day?”

He’d read enough to know, like with anything, you were going to have your good days and your bad days. You may be on the road to recovery, but recovery wasn’t linear.

You nodded a bit.

“Yeah. It’s been hard today, knowing I was coming home.”

He didn’t talk about the food, didn’t scold you. He just took your hands in his and looked at you, genuinely wanting to know.

“What’s been scaring you about it?”

You let out a deep sigh and his heart clenched. Such a heavy sigh shouldn’t be coming from your beautiful self. He just wanted to wrap you in his arms and never let go.

“I’m afraid I’ll relapse. They said it’s possible at the center,” you said.

“Yes, it is. But you’ll get through that too, I know it. It’s a normal part of recovery,” he said.

You looked at him quizzically, almost amused.

“You almost sound like my new therapist.”

He blushed, looking sheepish.

“Sorry. I spent the entire weekend at the library learning all I could to help you, baby.”

Your look of bewilderment turned to one of awe, a slow smile spreading on your face.

“You did that? For me?”

“Of course I did. I want to be supportive and help you. If you’re having a bad day, I want you to be able to talk to me about it, to lean on me. If you’re having a good day, I want to still hear about it and celebrate that good day. I meant it when I told you that you don’t have to go through this alone.”

You stayed silent for a moment, pulling your hands out of his. You cupped his face in your hands, bringing him down for a kiss, your emotions swirling at how hard he’d prepared to help you, just to be there for you.

Steve watched without a word as you reached for your plate, picking up a piece of the chicken with your fork, bringing it to your mouth.

He tried not to be insulted when you looked at him with widened eyes, shock clear on your face.

“This is amazing, Steve. When did you learn to cook?”

“Nancy taught me,” he shrugged, nonchalantly, “And I’m not that bad of a cook!”

“Babe, you’re usually a pro at burning toast,” you leveled him with a look.

He huffed, pretending to be insulted, but he couldn’t help the grin and laugh that came from him. You were so distracted, you ended up eating a bit more.

“I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, putting his arm around you, pulling you into his side.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For doing all of this for me.”

“Of course,” he paused, rubbing your arm, “You know what we’re going to do?”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“We’re going to take it one day at a time.”

[writingwithcolor]

What Does Our "Motivations” PSA Mean?

@luminalalumini said:

I've been on your blog a lot and it has a lot of really insightful information, but I notice a theme with some of your answers where you ask the writer reaching out what their 'motivation for making a character a certain [race/religion/ethnicity/nationality] is' and it's discouraging to see, because it seems like you're automatically assigning the writer some sort of ulterior motive that must be sniffed out and identified before the writer can get any tips or guidance for their question. Can't the 'motive' simply be having/wanting to have diversity in one's work? Must there be an 'ulterior motive'? I can understand that there's a lot of stigma and stereotypes and bad influence that might lead to someone trynna add marginalized groups into their stories for wrong reasons, but people that have those bad intentions certainly won't be asking for advice on how to write good representation in the first place. Idk its just been something that seemed really discouraging to me to reach out myself, knowing i'll automatically be assigned ulterior motives that i don't have and will probably have to justify why i want to add diversity to my story as if i'm comitting some sort of crime. I don't expect you guys to change your blog or respond to this or even care all that much, I'm probably just ranting into a void. I'm just curious if theres any reason to this that I haven't realized exists I suppose. I don't want y'all to take this the wrong way because I do actually love and enjoy your blog's advice in spite of my dumb griping. Cheers :))

We assume this is in reference to the following PSA:

PSA to all of our users - Motivation Matters: This lack of clarity w/r to intent has been a general issue with many recent questions. Please remember that if you don’t explain your motivations and what you intend to communicate to your audience with your plot choices, character attributes, world-building etc., we cannot effectively advise you beyond the information you provide. We Are Not Mind Readers. If, when drafting these questions, you realize you can’t explain your motivations, that is likely a hint that you need to think more on the rationales for your narrative decisions. My recommendation is to read our archives and articles on similar topics for inspiration while you think. I will be attaching this PSA to all asks with similar issues until the volume of such questions declines. 

We have answered this in three parts.

1. Of Paved Roads and Good Intentions

Allow me to give you a personal story, in solidarity towards your feelings:

When I began writing in South Asia as an outsider, specifically in the Kashmir and Lahore areas, I was doing it out of respect for the cultures I had grown up around. I did kathak dance, I grew up on immigrant-cooked North Indian food, my babysitters were Indian. I loved Mughal society, and every detail of learning about it just made me want more. The minute you told me fantasy could be outside of Europe, I hopped into the Mughal world with two feet. I was 13. I am now 28.

And had you asked me, as a teenager, what my motives were in giving my characters’ love interests blue or green eyes, one of them blond hair, my MC having red-tinted brown hair that was very emphasized, and a whole bunch of paler skinned people, I would have told you my motives were “to represent the diversity of the region.” 

I’m sure readers of the blog will spot the really, really toxic and colourist tropes present in my choices. If you’re new here, then the summary is: giving brown people “unique” coloured eyes and hair that lines up with Eurocentric beauty standards is an orientalist trope that needs to be interrogated in your writing. And favouring pale skinned people is colourist, full stop.

Did that make me a bad person with super sneaky ulterior motives who wanted to write bad representation? No.

It made me an ignorant kid from the mostly-white suburbs who grew up with media that said brown people had to “look unique” (read: look as European as possible) to be considered valuable.

And this is where it is important to remember that motives can be pure as you want, but you were still taught all of the terrible stuff that is present in society. Which means you’re going to perpetuate it unless you stop and actually question what is under your conscious motive, and work to unlearn it. Work that will never be complete.

I know it sounds scary and judgemental (and it’s one of the reasons we allow people to ask to be anonymous, for people who are afraid). Honestly, I would’ve reacted much the same as a younger writer, had you told me I was perpetuating bad things. I was trying to do good and my motives were pure, after all! But after a few years, I realized that I had fallen short, and I had a lot more to learn in order for my motives to match my impact. Part of our job at WWC is to attempt to close that gap.

We aren’t giving judgement, when we ask questions about why you want to do certain things. We are asking you to look at the structural underpinnings of your mind and question why those traits felt natural together, and, more specifically, why those traits felt natural to give to a protagonist or other major character.

I still have blond, blue-eyed characters with sandy coloured skin. I still have green-eyed characters. Because teenage me was right, that is part of the region. But by interrogating my motive, I was able to devalue those traits within the narrative, and I stopped making those traits shorthand for “this is the person you should root for.” 

It opened up room for me to be messier with my characters of colour, even the ones who my teenage self would have deemed “extra special.” Because the European-associated traits (pale hair, not-brown-eyes) stopped being special. After years of questioning, they started lining up with my motive of just being part of the diversity of the region.

Motive is important, both in the conscious and the subconscious. It’s not a judgement and it’s not assumed to be evil. It’s simply assumed to be unquestioned, so we ask that you question it and really examine your own biases.

~Mod Lesya

2. Motivations Aren't Always "Ulterior"

You can have a positive motivation or a neutral one or a negative one. Just wanting to have diversity only means your characters aren't all white and straight and cis and able-bodied -- it doesn't explain why you decided to make this specific character specifically bi and specifically Jewish (it me). Yes, sometimes it might be completely random! But it also might be "well, my crush is Costa Rican, so I gave the love interest the same background", or "I set it in X City where the predominant marginalized ethnicity is Y, so they are Y". Neither of these count as ulterior motives. But let's say for a second that you did accidentally catch yourself doing an "ulterior." Isn't that the point of the blog, to help you find those spots and clean them up?

Try thinking of it as “finding things that need adjusting” rather than “things that are bad” and it might get less scary to realize that we all do them, subconsciously. Representation that could use some work is often the product of subconscious bias, not deliberate misrepresentation, so there's every possibility that someone who wants to improve and do better didn't do it perfectly the first time. 

--Shira

3. Dress-Making as a Metaphor

I want to echo Lesya’s sentiments here but also provide a more logistical perspective. If you check the rubber stamp guide here and the “Motivation matters” PSA above, you’ll notice that concerns with respect to asker motivation are for the purposes of providing the most relevant answer possible.

It is a lot like if someone walks into a dressmaker’s shop and asks for a blue dress/ suit (Back when getting custom-made clothes was more of a thing) . The seamstress/ tailor is likely to ask a wide variety of questions:

What material do you want the outfit to be made of?

Where do you plan to wear it?

What do you want to highlight?

How do you want to feel when you wear it?

Let’s say our theoretical customer is in England during the 1920s. A tartan walking dress/ flannel suit for the winter is not the same as a periwinkle, beaded, organza ensemble/ navy pinstripe for formal dress in the summer. When we ask for motivations, we are often asking for exactly that: the specific reasons for your inquiry so we may pinpoint the most pertinent information.

The consistent problem for many of the askers who receive the PSA is they haven’t even done the level of research necessary to know what they want to ask of us. It would be like if our English customer in the 1920s responded, “IDK, some kind of blue thing.” Even worse,  WWC doesn’t have the luxury of the back-and-forth between a dressmaker and their clientele. If our asker doesn’t communicate all the information they need in mind at the time of submission, we can only say, “Well, I’m not sure if this is right, but here’s something. I hope it works, but if you had told us more, we could have done a more thorough job.”

Answering questions without context is hard, and asking for motivations, by which I mean the narratives, themes, character arcs and other literary devices that you are looking to incorporate, is the best way for us to help you, while also helping you to determine if your understanding of the problem will benefit from outside input. Because these asks are published with the goal of helping individuals with similar questions, the PSA also serves to prompt other users.

I note that asking questions is a skill, and we all start by asking the most basic questions (Not stupid questions, because to quote a dear professor, “There are no stupid questions.”). Unfortunately, WWC is not suited for the most basic questions. To this effect, we have a very helpful FAQ and archive as a starting point. Once you have used our website to answer the more basic questions, you are more ready to approach writing with diversity and decide when we can actually be of service. This is why we are so adamant that people read the FAQ. Yes, it helps us, but it also is there to save you time and spare you the ambiguity of not even knowing where to start.

The anxiety in your ask conveys to me a fear of being judged for asking questions. That fear is not something we can help you with, other than to wholeheartedly reassure you that we do not spend our unpaid, free time answering these questions in order to assume motives we can’t confirm or sit in judgment of our users who, as you say, are just trying to do better.

Yes, I am often frustrated when an asker’s question makes it clear they haven’t read the FAQ or archives. I’ve also been upset when uncivil commenters have indicated that my efforts and contributions are not worth their consideration. However, even the most tactless question has never made me think, “Ooh this person is such a naughty racist. Let me laugh at them for being a naughty racist. Let me shame them for being a naughty racist. Mwahaha.”

What kind of sad person has time for that?*

Racism is structural. It takes time to unlearn, especially if you’re in an environment that doesn’t facilitate that process to begin with. Our first priority is to help while also preserving our own boundaries and well-being. Though I am well aware of the levels of toxic gas-lighting and virtue signaling that can be found in various corners of online writing communities in the name of “progressivism*”, WWC is not that kind of space. This space is for discussions held in good faith: for us to understand each other better, rather than for one of us to “win” and another to “lose.”

Just as we have good faith that you are doing your best, we ask that you have faith that we are trying to do our best by you and the BIPOC communities we represent.

- Marika.

*If you are in any writing or social media circles that feed these anxieties or demonstrate these behaviors, I advise you to curtail your time with them and focus on your own growth. You will find, over time, that it is easier to think clearly when you are worrying less about trying to appease people who set the bar of approval so high just for the enjoyment of watching you jump. “Internet hygiene”, as I like to call it, begins with you and the boundaries you set with those you interact with online.

[accidental-host]

Since Madeleines are basically cake cookies, wouldn’t Madeleine Cookie also be half cookie half cake hound? I wanna know your take on this ^^*

YESSS these are the kinds of asks I love to get

Concept exploration: Cake monster Madeleine

Made some fancy banners I’m gonna start using for analysis posts, tell me if y’all like them because I want my posts to be pretty

Logically, he probably isn’t part cake canonically in game. Flavor doesn’t always determine stuff like that, devsis is a coward and it’s obvious they only come up with their lore after the fact so old characters don’t make sense, etc etc.

BUT, it’s extremely fun to think about. It could relate to a lot of design elements, his gloves potentially hiding claws, his search for Soul Jam could have extra motive to it rather than only being for immortality, I think this is a super interesting concept.

We know he comes from a rich family, so him being part cake could be more like an Elsa situation with it not being normal in the family and his parents encouraging him to hide it to not ruin their high status. His obsession with light magic and the divine could be more for overcompensation, feeling like he has to do everything he can to reject the cake part of himself so he devotes himself completely to the divine to make up for the fact that he is inherently a monster.

And I think this would create a REALLY interesting dynamic with Red Velvet if they ever met. Red understands the stigma around cake monsters, I’m sure he’d understand why Madeleine has been told to hide it. But it’s sad to see someone just like him that seems to hate the only part of himself that they have in common. And Madeleine has been taught to hate himself so much, he might even be hostile to Red upon learning that he’s part cake and doesn’t hide it.

The hostility is partially self hatred lashed out against Red, and partially jealousy. He can understand Red definitely doesn’t have it easy, but the idea of not having to live in a constant state of hiding in plain sight is something he wishes he could have. Their relationship is tense at first, with Madeleine hating Red because he hates himself, and Red almost offended that Madeleine hates cakes so goddamn much even when he is one.

But I think they could get along in the end, Red helping Madeleine come to terms with himself and showing him that being a cake is not a bad thing, potentially even leading to Madeleine not wanting to hide part of himself anymore.

This would honestly be REALLY interesting, thank you so much for the ask because I’ve seen this AU concept a few times by a few different people but now was a good chance to give my ideas for it. I did not imagine this to be romantic Red Velvet/Madeleine at all, I don’t really ship that, but I guess it could be? Idk, you can take whatever you want from this and lmk if you want me to explore how this would work with any other characters or ships

[leviiattacks]

Head canons for mafia boss levi being interested in Starbucks barista reader please

note :: this idea is so cute i wrote a scenario i hope you don’t mind. i can still post some headcanons for it too if you really want me to! i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted me to write anon :-( ALSO this is super casual writing it’s not like the way i usually write it’s just bullet points i mean idk i wanted to try something different and more relaxed lmk if this style is okay for some requests :D

if anyone would like any more requests with this levi please lmk!! i could go in more detail tbh maybe the pacing of this isn’t too good bc it is a short request but yeahhh

+ idk why the formatting looks so odd i tried my best to fix it myself ?!.!/!:£:& but yeah sorry again!!

levi has always been one to keep his business meetings lowkey

i mean, realistically who is going to suspect mafia boss levi is lingering in a starbucks???

the place is well-suited for his hushed meetings, he finds it to be quiet enough and clean enough

but then one winter everything changes

you start working there

he’s waiting in the queue texting erwin asking when he’ll be able to get there

it’s been a RUSH and the traffic is crazy as expected from the bustling city so he doesn’t expect to see erwin for a while

that’s when he hears you for the first time

“HEY!! Mister in the fancy suit it’s your turn to order”

your hands are placed on the counter and you lean forward eagerly waiting for what he has to say

levi rolls his eyes because he thinks you have to be ogling his designer watch and shoes (you really aren’t)

“black tea, no sugar and... a cinnamon swirl” he’ll order for erwin later. “i’ll be eating in.”

“ooohhh you’re a tea guy? name?” you’re smiling at him radiantly and it irks him because you have nothing to be smiling about really

eyes narrowing he responds “no shit, i just ordered tea.”

“and why the hell do you want my name?” he snaps on reflex

he then remembers he’s at a starbucks and you are not interrogating him, you’re doing your job

“sir... this is starbucks?? is this your first time here?”

you blink in confusion but then your face lights up “oh my, would you like to sign up for a starbucks card?? you can collect stars and get rewards and it’s so muc–“

“do i look like i need a starbucks card?”

“everyone looks like they need a starbucks card”

he doesn’t carry on that part of your conversation instead he looks you dead in the eyes “levi, is my name.”

his glare intimidates you and you awkwardly laugh

you think he’s probably having a super bad day and choose to not bother him that much

as he’s waiting he sees the way you clumsily navigate behind the counter, you’re juggling a number of things in your arms

automatically his face sours

he’s not expecting the tea you produce to be any good

he doesn’t care how nice you are if you can’t do what he wants he won’t be leaving a tip

he’s stingy like that

a clatter is heard and all the noise you’re making just makes you all the more aggravating

he’s been coming here for years and never has encountered a barista as bothersome as yourself

at some point you call out the name “SCROOGE!” from behind the counter, levi finds it embarrassing that anyone would ever call their child that

like... out of all the names this is what they choose??

damn they have to hate parenthood

“scrooge i’m begging you collect your drink.”

he looks up pissed that whoever this scrooge is has the audacity to hold you up because that by default means they are holding him up

then he sees you staring directly at him with that warm smile again

yeah, that smile, it could thaw ice

then it settles.

he’s scrooge?

turning around he notices no one is behind him then he sees that no one else is waiting apart from him

jaw clenching he heads towards you and makes it a point to “tsk” in frustration

he takes his cup and his cinnamon roll and you wave him goodbye

usually levi prefers to silently sit in the booth furthest from the action, he wants no attention drawn to him at all

but that day he finds himself sitting closer to the counter

he’s kind of stunned when he does that because he’s just sat there thinking why the hell did i just do that?? why did i sit here??

but he convinces himself it’s because he wants to see erwin when he’s about to walk in so he can prepare to scold him for not arriving on time

he takes a sip of his beverage expecting nothing above mediocirty but weirdly, your brew, it tastes perfect

levi’s eyes linger on you and he notices the way your behaviour is consistent

you’re helping an old woman pick what she’d like from the menu

you compliment her jumper, says it really makes her blue eyes stand out

you don’t have to be as nice as you are and it’s ticking him off

it ticks him off seeing someone so pure and sweet for no reason

when did people decide to not have ulterior motives anymore? did you decide those were too old school for you?

tongue poking at the inside of his cheek he activates his poker face and looks away

you, are a random person. a random, annoying person. he is going to stop thinking about you.

turning his attention to erwin instead he calls him and when he picks up levi makes his point very clear

“i was just called scrooge. get the hell here so i can order for you.”

erwin chuckles, his throaty laugh makes levi’s mouth twitch downwards in irritation

“and who exactly called you scrooge?”

“is that relevant?”

“very much so if you’ve mentioned it yourself”

levi is silent and erwin laughs once again at his colleagues anti social way of interacting

“i’ll be there in five, feel free to order.”

grunting a sound of approval levi hangs up

“you’re back! how may i help?”

the way you treat being a barista so seriously, he finds it oddly endearing

“one doubleshot iced coffee.”

nodding to yourself you hum a tune happily and get to work

ever since that day levi finds himself frequenting that specific starbucks more

at first it’s a whole lot of “i’m pissed and i don’t have a reason so i’ll go down there and have her annoy me, then i’ll have a real reason”

then you talk to him more and you both engage in small talk

then it develops when he doesn’t mean for it to

you tell him about what you study, where you’re from, how your mother has recently developed arthritis but she’s still so determined to cook to the best of her abilities despite the pain

that reminds him of you

each visit he learns something new about you

sometimes he’ll let you in on his life

“what do you work as, i’ve always wondered?“

“accountant.“ no way in hell is he going to scare you away, telling you isn’t an option

you burst out in laughter holding your knees

“accountancy is well paying what is your point...?”

“do you not know what that means” your laugh is muffled as you press the sleeve of your jumper against your mouth

he shakes his head completely clueless

“people say their accountants when they’re actually strippers. it’s a tiktok thing.”

you pause for a second staring at his face

he feels the way his ears grow red under your gaze but he ignores it looking as bored as ever

“ah well. i did not know that.”

“clearly not you are an old man.”

then you turn away to brew his tea and he lets the ghost of a smile sneak its way onto his face

you aren’t looking, it’s okay

but he knows it’s dangerous getting attached to you

it’s stupid relaxing

and it’s even worse loosening up

so he doesn’t.

he’s always cold, bitter and frigid in his responses as he’s always been with you

but that doesn’t stop you from kindly smiling

or absentmindedly brushing the surface of his skin on rare occasions

it doesn’t stop you from calling him scrooge

and it certainly doesn’t stop you from slowly thawing the frosty exterior of his heart

then one day you let the words “my scrooge” slip out of your mouth

he doesn’t know why he let’s it happen or even how it happens exactly but he can’t help the smile that makes itself evident on his face

“HEY YOU JUST SMILED HELLO?????? you can do THAT????”

he smiled in front of you, that’s it he’s fucked

he quickly drops it and is back to his normal narrowed glare

“i did no such thing”

you give him a knowing look but sigh airily there’s no point in getting the man to admit it

“what would you like today, a frappe?”

you ask the sarcastic question even though you know he hates change. his usual order is already ingrained in your mind. you know it off by heart

he sighs in exasperation

“is your memory really that bad?”

“nope. cinnamon rolls and black tea it is!”