#i do have some drafts based on these sorts of things

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

along with the whump thoughts, it made me think of the trope that’s like. cuddle/fuck spores, and what are the evolutionary implications of that. imagining a really cute ship scene of two characters and then the hurt part with one or both falling ill due to the effects, whatever they might be. (hell, could even end up being real kinky somehow, i have more thoughts but i won’t share unless you’re cool with it )

oh i love me some good cuddle/fuck spores!! share whatever you want, anon (though if it's very sexual/kinky i might have to direct you to my nsfw sideblog) (i don't want to post the url here tho, you'd need to message me off anon first) (sorry, i just don't want everyone who knows me going over there and psychoanalyzing my kinks)

imagine a strain of spores that invade your system and can never be fully flushed out, so they periodically reinfect their host? like, uh. whatsit. SHINGLES!

imagine someone who was infected years ago, maybe one of the first to get infected by this strain before it was all but wiped out by counter measures, and they have no idea that it's still in their system. what happens when they're alone, maybe on a mission somewhere (stakeout? solitary confinement?? perhaps even in enemy territory, who knows, endless possibilities), and the stress triggers the symptoms again.

or, like... what if an infection of, say, cuddle pollen alters the person's tolerance for space permanently? what if they used to be able to cruise through life a little bit touch starved and it was okay, but now if they go more than a day or two without human contact it starts to feel like they can't function?

then there's the classic fic trope of "someone who is high on pollen needs their fix SO BAD that they're willing to hurt themselves to get it" aka pulling on restraints until they dislocate something or walk barefoot across broken glass, that sort of thing. i do love me a fic like that...

[icewindandboringhorror]

I can't do much productively during the heat wave/health issue flare up/etc. like work on my games or anything where I have to sit at the computer/type for long periods of time, BUT.. I did passively sculpt a few tiny foods lol. I wanted to do one of my bigger usual sculptures, but those take so much more time and concentration, I thought something small just to keep my hands busy would be better.. close up photos look kind of weird and blurry from my camera settings or something, but overall they came out okay, especially in person.. Nearly the only reason I ever wanted to buy dolls as a kid was to get my hands on the miniature foods and plates and stuff that came with them, I've always just been obsessed with small versions of things like that, so.. why not make some! lol

[ganondoodle]

been able to keep both my fear and hype about totk in check by watching nothing but elden ring videos for weeks but now i read something on accident and my anxiety is going through the roof again

[jeoncopi]

bruh. how come nobody has ever called me out for taking too long into uploading something? 😭 if I was following myself, I would’ve asked like “girl where tf are your stories?” lmaoosjsjsj

[legendaryvermin]

So my home ttrpg group is between longform games right now, and I have been planning to bring a bunch of games to them this weekend as options for what we might play next. However, I have been trying to figure out how to talk about the games in a way that doesn't rely as much on me explaining the vibes to them.

I know that people have a bunch of qualitative categories for how they explain games, but I find the idea of saying things like Dark Fantasy OSR, or Lesbian Goofball PBTA less helpful when talking about how games actually play, especially when two games in the same category are like, wildly different in the way they use their frameworks.

So I invented a 6 axis, 1 to 5 star rating scale for TTRPGs that you are free to borrow when talking to groups, or whatever.

TTRPG 5 Star Rating Matrix

Width

What is the scope of this game? Is it narrowly about one thing or does it encompass many types of play? (Credit to friend of the blog @ostermad-blog for this one, they came up with it from my draft)

Weight

How much cognitive load does the player need to bear? Do rules often need to be referenced verbatim? Can those rules fit on a handout?

Wargame

Is the player expected to apply tactical acumen? Is movement tracked tightly or loosely? Does a bad build punish a player?

Writers Room

How much are players expected to make narrative choices and drive the story without the rules scaffolding them? Does this game fall apart without excellent improvisational storytellers?

(Prep)Work

Does this game require a lot of pre-planning by the facilitator? Are there intricate systems to attend to outside of table play? Can I put in the same amount of time as other players and still have everyone leave happy? 

Whimsy

Expected tone of the game. Does this game have difficult thematic elements baked in? Is the core subject or role in the game high or low risk?

Here are some games I know well and how I calibrated them:

I have breakdowns of what each star rating means below the cut if you're curious. Happy Gaming!

Width

⭐ - As written, the game has basically one mode of play, or one thematic core that it meditates on. May have phases, but textural difference is minimal.

⭐⭐ - As written, there are at least two modes of play, but the scope of that play is highly thematically focused or highly dependent on using the game’s own lore. Might have only one kind of character (e.g. Mech Pilot) that it supports. Has limited tools outside of the primary mode of play.

⭐⭐⭐ - Has a variety of modes of play, but may be rigid in their execution. Might encompass multiple kinds of characters (e.g. Doctor, Lawyer, fighter) or character options. The narratives that this game tells within its setting are narrowed, a three word description tells you what kind of stories it can tell with consistency.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Loose framework, but with some kind of thematic grounding. Describing the framework in 3 words doesn’t tell you the kind of stories that the game tells (e.g. Dark Fantasy, Star Wars Romp). 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- As written, this game is designed in such a way that it doesn’t put specific limits on what sorts of stories that it is meant to tell. It might ask players to define abilities or stats for themselves. The Facilitator is going to pitch a thematic grounding on top of the rules set.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Dialect, Honey Heist Five Star Examples: Fate Core, Savage Worlds, GURPS

Weight

⭐ - It is reasonable for a player to be able to recite the rules from memory. The game may be prompt based, or driven by a flow of rules that are read aloud as played.

⭐⭐ - Players can hold most of the most important information about the game in their heads, with a page or less of rules reference needed to play smoothly. This reference could all fit neatly on the character sheet if one is present.

⭐⭐⭐ - Everything a player needs to know about the game is visible on less than 3 sheets of reference. Players are more or less expected to know exactly how their own abilities work in precise detail, and are unlikely to make a mistake in executing them.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Players make extensive use of multiple reference sheets to keep rules moving smoothly. No external tools are needed, but players memorizing the details of all of their abilities is taxing. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- Players and facilitators will prefer to make extensive use of external tools or reference to keep play moving smoothly. Expecting a player to have the exact details of their abilities memorized is not reasonable.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Stewpot, Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands Five Star Examples: Dungeons and Dragons 3-5e, Lancer, Edge of the Empire

Wargame

⭐ - As written, this game does not treat combat as mechanically different from any other aspect of play, or does not include narrative violence at all.

⭐⭐ - While players may engage in combat, it is minimally different from regular play. There may be tools or abilities for players to use to conduct a fight, but the texture of those fights is thematic, not mechanical. Narrative and consequence drive the action, not hit points.

⭐⭐⭐ - As written, combat has its own set of rules. This game may have some elements of buildcrafting, but either it is difficult to build something that doesn’t work, or the player may meaningfully invest in other modes of play and still find a commensurate level of satisfaction. If combat occurs, spacing is kept in mind, but is tracked in relative terms (range bands) or highly simplified (zone based combat).

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This game has buildcrafting that is somewhat mandatory if players wish to survive a fight, but there is still a meaningful choice in choosing a non-combat role. It may use a grid or a spacing system to help players visualize the combat. Fights are driven by mechanics, not by narrative.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- To enjoy this game, players must spend time buildcrafting. If a player’s build is suboptimal, there may be significant parts of the intended experience that will either feel tedious, or that the player will not have meaningful access to. This game is played on a grid.

One Star Examples: Wanderhome, Dialect, Belonging Outside Belonging Five Star Examples: Lancer, Dungeons and Dragons 3-5e, Valor

Writers Room

⭐ - Players in this game are not expected to provide much in the way of narrative substance. Story is something that is driven by external input or tools, and players are there to imagine and react. The player need not separate the self from the character they play in any meaningful way.

⭐⭐ - The mechanics of this game drive most of the narrative, or else the narrative is set for the players by an external source or player. Players are encouraged to play optimally rather than dramatically, but do have room for expressing the identity of their character within the game’s mechanical frameworks.

⭐⭐⭐ - While the game does provide strong scaffolding to tell a story, the players present are expected to drive the story within those frameworks. The game’s systems create and resolve conflict on their own, but works best when the players are willing to choose the dramatically interesting option even if it mechanically non-optimal.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The game provides some mechanical tools that create and resolve drama, but there is a significant expectation that the players are buying into and driving the game’s thematic concepts. Players are the ones deciding what the scenes should be and when to end them, but mechanics still help determine outcomes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- The players are expected to drive the narrative at all times. Tools for deciding what scenes to do and when to end them are limited, optional, or vague. There is no meaningful scaffolding that creates conflict or resolution, it is incumbent on those present to manifest those things.

One Star Examples: Alice is Missing, Ribbon Drive, For the Queen Five Star Examples: Wanderhome, Systemless RP

(Prep)Work

⭐ - Facilitators are not expected to do work outside the time at the table. All rules can be read while the game is played. No memorization is needed.

⭐⭐ - This game expects the facilitator to have read the rules in advance, but the rules are so few that they can be run from a single reference sheet. At times, the facilitator must think about and potentially advance and adjust the narrative of the game behind the scenes. Prep is qualitative; answering questions about where the narrative is going to go, who will be there etc. The game can be run smoothly predominantly as improv.

⭐⭐⭐ - This game expects the facilitator to not only know the rules, but to imagine scenarios where the group must play. However, the scope of the scenario design is limited and qualitative. It takes a bit of pondering and perhaps a sketch and a few words of notes. Alternatively, the facilitator must design simple foes or track a simple background system. The work is trivial, and can be done with a bit of time before session.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - The facilitator of this game is expected to have run systems between games, or created usable maps or scenarios. Generally, games at this level have some reduced wargaming component. The facilitator might need to engage in enemy design, but the work is limited or imminently reusable. The work is non-trivial, and failing to do it will somewhat impact the quality of play.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- The facilitator of this game puts in significant time between sessions engaging in game design activities. They are expected to plan narratives, write NPCs, draw maps, run significant background systems, and design enemies and combat encounters. The work is significant outside of play, and failing to do it beforehand will result in a worse table experience.

One Star Examples: For the Queen, Alley-Oop, Lasers and Feelings Five Star Examples: Lancer, D&D 3-5e, Stars Without Number, Edge of the Empire

Whimsy

⭐ - This game’s thematic core is considered dark, taboo, or difficult, and separating the game’s mechanical features from this subject matter is next to impossible. Games with horror elements almost certainly fit within this category. These games encourage extensive pre-play safety talks.

⭐⭐ - This game is designed to look at dark subject matter, but doesn’t expect the player to spend all of their time there. Players explore difficult topics, but may get to choose what topics to explore, or when to explore them. Games with political messaging/commentary tend to fit this category. These games encourage pre-play safety talks.

⭐⭐⭐ - This game may have dark aesthetics, but doesn’t enforce them mechanically. Alternatively, there are mechanics that address difficult topics in broad strokes, but players are given leeway in the rules with how any difficult topics are approached. These games may encourage safety talks. 

⭐⭐⭐⭐ - This game may have the option to explore dark topics, but none of the mechanics are tied to such topics. This game may have violence in its aesthetics, but players may choose to adjust the aesthetics at the table to suit their comfort. These games tend not to talk about safety in their text.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- This game is designed to focus on thematic material that is considered to be relatively safe. The game is unlikely to tread into violence or trauma without effort.

One Star Examples: Trophy Dark, Dungeon Bitches, Vampire the Masquerade Five Star Examples: Honey Heist, Princess World, Beach Episode

The system here isn't about what's good or bad, to be clear. I think there are good and bad games at every level of these categories, but when I think about what my game group is good at and comfy with, I don't think we go in for things at like the 5 end of the Writers Room scale. It's too much work, and most of them aren't pro improvisers.

Similarly, if we play another game that is a 4 or 5 on the PrepWork category, I don't have time to run it these days. So this helps me make practical choices about our next game.

[bluegiragi]

Hi friend!! I've been following you on a couple platforms when it comes to your amazing art!! I know you've talked about ghostprice, but I saw the Price's hand on the back of Kyle's neck and was wondering if you could talk about the relationship between price and gaz? I loved the ghost price one, but I totally understand if you don't have the same write up for these two lol

!!! thank you so much for this ask, because i love thinking about this dynamic in my free time.

lots of reading under the cut!

so, because I like to cherry-pick influences from canon, in the monster au, Gaz and Price met before Gaz got drafted into the 141. Gaz was the harpy escort to a standard military op that got off-track when doing recon, and ended up wrapped up in a territorial dispute with two griffin hybrids. The whole team got stuck sandwiched between the two with neither side willing to let them move, and when Gaz tried to fly above to do some surveillance he got beaten out of the sky by both of them (they don't take kindly to interlopers interfering with griffin disputes). They had to request emergency assistance from the closest party which, by chance, happened to be Price's team.

This all happened after Price lost his wing, and on this mission he collaborated with Gaz to help get (most of) his team out safely without having to rely on his skill of flight. They both made strong impressions on each other then, with Gaz forming the first seeds of a long-term loyalty to Price. When his contract with his current station ended, he was all too happy to get poached for the 141.

Coming from a more interpersonal perspective - Gaz is a harpy, which means he's fiercely independent and bases a lot of his identity on not being reliant on anyone. Price is a dragon, which comes with a lot of pesky hoard instincts that instruct him to 'provide' for his hoard. It means that Gaz dislikes being taken care of and a strong instinctual part of Price is unhappy about that. When they're more intimate, Gaz insists on giving as much as he is getting (if not more) and is always seeking ways to contribute and prove his value to the group. Even though he might be chill by harpy standards, Gaz is still very proud and he gets flustered when forced to accept things without 'earning' it.

(also he might have a little bit of hero worship for price lingering in the recesses of his mind)

Price only having one wing and being essentially grounded also adds an extra layer to their relationship. Harpies put a lot of stock in their flying prowess, so the loss of a wing is truly a world-ending event in their culture and he's extremely uncomfortable broaching the subject with Price even though he'd be happy to talk about it if pushed. He also feels that it is his role to be Price's 'wings' now, which is a sentiment that he hasn't shared to anyone but puts a lot of pressure on himself to live up to. He doesn't think this way out of any sort of pity for Price - his captain has proved time and time again to be the kind of monster worth following - instead, this mentality is him militantly breaking himself down to how useful/valuable he can be to others.

tldr; gaz is bad at accepting care, price wants to take care of him so bad and is slowly figuring out loopholes

[coco-loco-nut]

Barnstormer

pairing: charles x reader

summary: charles can’t help but to fall for your small town charm

a/n: so @vitalverstappen and I have been grinding on this prompt for a while (i sent the jumble of ideas to V.V. after this being in my drafts for a few months). read the sister story linked at the end!

masterlist requests open

——————————

Once again, you are in your home country to race, only this time it’s in Austin. You spent the break on your family’s ranch back in Montana, riding your horse and reconnecting with nature. You always joked that you are the racing version of Hannah Montana.

“Y/n, it must be nice to be back home. You certainly look the part,” Laura starts your interview with F1TV.

“Ah, well Austin is much different than Montana. Two different types of cowboy, I’d say,” you are dressed like you just came from the stable. Boots, jeans, hoodie, hair in a braid, and your hat. A quick look says you aren’t a driver.

“How so?”

“Well, they like the spice down here much more, and I’d say that we are much more equipped to deal with snow. One thing I do know is that we both love a good rodeo,” you feel your hat be removed from you head as you speak. Turning to your left, you see Charles put it on his head.

“Yee haw, little lady,” Charles does what might be the worst Texas accent you’ve ever heard.

“Charles Leclerc, you did not just grab my cap by the brim. I don’t think you know what you just did,” you take your hat back, by grabbing the crown - you aren’t an animal, holding it at your side as to not make fans think anything of it.

“Well, I’ll let you sort that out,” Laura turns to the camera. “Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with Y/n and Liam Lawson as we discuss being rookies, Lightning McQueen, and more,” Laura says, letting the camera cut away.

“Sorry we couldn’t get more of an interview, I gotta explain cowboy culture to Charles,” you cringe, pulling the Ferrari boys away. Charles listens as you ramble about how it’s rude to touch a hat, then straw versus felt and why despite it being past labor day you are wearing straw, and finally that his act of taking your hat could be seen as a sign of flirting. You reach the Alpine home and quickly dart inside.

“Mate, I don’t think she got it,” Carlos shakes his head as Charles groans.

“I’ve been trying all season, she just isn’t getting it,” Charles whines, sure you will never pick up on his flirting.

That night you take the boys to a bar just outside Austin that some friends back home recommended, they said it was where a lot of rodeo cowboys go. It does not disappoint, the neon offsetting the wood with Tim McGraw crooning on the speakers. You practically run to the bar to order your favorite cheap beer.

“Some of my friends said this is the best bar in town,” you yell over the music.

“Logan? He was your childhood best friend right?” Franco says, hoping that he got it right.

“Logan? No, although he is my friend. You really don’t know how far Montana is from here and Miami, huh,” you swig your beer before narrowing your eyes at the Argentinian. “Are you even old enough to be here? How did you get in?”

“Franco is 21, barely, but he is,” Alex says, a little put off by the place. Most of them did try to fit in, but everyone in the bar can tell they are tourists based off them wearing felt hats when it’s blistering hot outside.

“Oh, they have a bull,” your eyes light up as you quickly make your way to the mechanical animal. You don’t care if it’s embarrassing for you or the guys, you want to see them fall off.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Max asks, wary of the old machine.

“Sure, that’s what makes it fun. Why don’t you go first?” Your eyes challenge Max as a small crowd watches on, interested at the goings of your group.

“I, uh,” it doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that the boys are scared. You square your shoulders, finishing off your beer.

“Alright, but you’re missing out, it’s mighty fun,” you shrug, taking your hat off and setting it upside down on a table beside the operator. You hand him cash as you step onto the worn blue mats, eyeing up your worn, red competitor.

“Don’t you think this is a bad idea? I don’t want to explain to the team how you got hurt,” Pierre’s panic is evident even as the guys pull out their phones to film.

“Yeah no, I learned from the best. My hometown best friend is a champion rider,” you expertly mount the mechanical bull, unphased as it starts bucking. You hang on much longer than the boys would’ve, and when you feel yourself be about to get thrown off, you dismount with a flourish.

The guys are speechless beyond cheering for you as you put your hat on, heading back to the bar for another beer. Men tip their caps to you and you blush, a little overwhelmed by the attention.

Charles knows enough to know that you put on a show and have the interest of even more guys now. It doesn’t help that your boots and shorts show off your legs just right, and the tee you chose fits perfectly. Your hat adds a layer of mystery as it helps hide your eyes, but not your beautifully curled hair.

You don’t do much the rest of the night other than drink the guys into a hole, get violently drunk, and stand on a table singing Dolly Parton.

You pull up to the paddock the next day wearing a college football jersey, the school you’ve supported since you were a young kid.

“Texas or Georgia?” someone yells at you and you can’t help but step back in disgust.

“Neither, I’d rather die,” you yell back, despite not having a team in the SEC.

“How are you alive and still manage to look good,” Franco groans, walking beside you.

“Sheer will, and a bit of my mama’s secret recipe,” you grin.

“How does he do it?” Charles asks Max, watching Franco effortlessly flirt with you, even though Franco doesn’t realize he’s flirting.

“No idea. Have you talked to Mick, he’s pretty close with her. Maybe he has an idea,” Max shrugs.

“Mick? Like Mick Schumacher?”

“Yeah, they karted together. You could also just talk to her,” Max suggests, pushing his friend in your direction.

“So you are actually a cowgirl?” Charles asks you once Franco drops back to yap with Max.

“Yeah, my parents have a working ranch. I help out when I can, since they helped find people to house and train me throughout my career,” you smile.

“That’s so cool. You have your own horse too, right?”

“Yeah, do you want to see him? He’s a feral mustang that we domesticated, I’m thinking of breeding him with a quarter horse soon,” you pull up photos as Charles tries to understand everything you said.

“What a pretty rider,” Charles hopes you might pick up on an obvious flirt.

“Thanks,” the compliment barely registers in your mind.

“Maybe you could teach me how to ride sometime,”

“Oh, I was going to have Mick, Pierre, and Logan come up after Brazil. You should come too, hopefully we will beat the snow. There’s already been some, but if you bundle up you will be fine,” your smile melts Charles’s brain.

“Snow? Already?” Charles can’t imagine it, it hasn’t even been Halloween.

“Oh yeah, nothing like a warm cider and a fireplace though,” Charles can hear your accent come through.

“So are they dating?” Franco asks, observing how close you and Charles are standing.

“No.”

“But he likes her?”

“Yes.”

“And she likes him?”

“Hard to say,” Max shrugs.

“I am so confused,” Franco stares at you and Charles, it’s obvious you both like each other.

“Me too,” Carlos agrees, having come to retrieve Charles when he overheard Franco’s conversation with Max.

“Y/n is a smart woman, but she certainly cannot pick up on flirting,” Max shakes his head, walking off.

Charles did join you at your ranch before Las Vegas, with strict orders from his trainer on how to keep up with his training. Charles wasn’t expecting a whole complex of barns and houses. You could almost call it an operation.

They were all shoved in the back of your pickup, luggage safe on the bed of the truck, as you and a ranch hand chat in the front of the car.

“You boys are lucky there’s room in the main house during your stay,” the ranch hand had joked. Because the group arrived so late, it’s straight to bed for everyone. Everyone except you.

Charles is restless, and despite his better judgment, gets out of bed for a change of scenery. He walks into the living room, looking at family photos, school yearbook photos, and pictures of your races. Some of your first trophies are proudly displayed above the fireplace, as well as a picture from your first time in the points in F1. He takes in everything, it’s clear how proud your parents are of you.

Charles finds you on the porch, with a steaming mug and quilt thrown over your legs. You are staring at the sky, not really paying attention. He’s freezing, wearing more layers than you, but he sits beside you anyway. You hand him a spare quilt, which he thanks you for.

“It’s nice, to slow down out here, the open skies and quiet,” you break the calm silence.

“It seems busy around here,”

“You have to be. It’s a hard business, no days off. I’m lucky that we are a larger ranch and my family can afford things like my career. Most of my friends stay and work full time, some work for us now. The guys out there are just going in for the night to the bunk houses, they will be up at dawn ready to work,” you explain. Charles was right in that this is a business, and a large one.

“Makes me feel bad that we are here on a break then,” Charles rubs the back of his neck.

“Don’t be. Plenty of ranches book out guest houses for tourism, it’s good income. Plus, you are here as my guest. The town will love to meet new people,” you reassure him, reaching to pat his hand.

“So, I guess you really don’t know every city that we visit?” Charles grins. None of the drivers ever bothered to look up where you are from, so they joke that you know Miami, Austin, and Las Vegas like they are your home town. However, they’ve been taking it more seriously as of late.

“No,” you whisper, a hint of a smile on your face as you watch the snow fall. You find yourself tucked under Charles’ arm before you bid him goodnight, going to bed.

You are up early, eating breakfast with your family.

“What’s your plan for the day?” your mother asks as you help clear the table.

“I think a trail ride then go into town, I don’t want to impose too much, but I’ll probably show them around,” you say, thinking of a schedule.

“Why don’t you do a late lunch in town? I have some things for you to pick up,” you agree with her idea.

“Go ahead, Mama, I’ll clean up,” you say, knowing there is administrative work to do.

The boys meander down about an hour later as you are finishing baking a bread you started yesterday.

“Morning boys,” you wipe your hands as they stand cluelessly in the kitchen. “Take a seat, I’ll whip you up something quick,” you motion to the kitchen table as you head to the fridge.

“Do you need help?” Logan asks, but your look quickly tells him to shut up.

“Coffee’s in the pot if you want some, milk in the fridge, food will be ready in a few minutes,” you wave the offer off.

“What’s your plan for today?” Mick asks, quickly taking to the coffee.

“I’ll take you on a trail ride and tour around some of the ranch, then we will go into town and grab lunch. After dinner we can go to the bar if it isn’t too bad out,” you look out the window, most of the snow has melted off already, but you can never be too careful. The boys quickly eat what you serve them and you take them out to the barn.

“Need help?” Charles asks as you blanket and saddle four horses, one he recognizes as yours. It’s impressive, watching you easily sling the heavy saddles on.

“Hold these, stand still,” you hand him the reigns, making sure he is in a safe position.

“Are you wearing chaps?” Mick notices the tan leather covering your jeans.

“Yes, and you all should too. You will thank me later when the wind isn’t biting at your legs. We should have some extras, hang on,” you grab a few pairs and tell the boys how to wear them.

“This is quite fashionable, I should’ve worn them in Austin,” Charles twists his legs, looking at the western wear. You just shake your head and continue getting the saddles ready.

“This is weirder than I thought,” Logan says, a little uncomfortable in the gear as you help him mount the horse.

“Sit up straighter, and widen your legs a little,” you fix his feet as you speak, adjusting the saddle and stirrups. You help each of them mount the horses you saddled before mounting your own horse.

You start with the tour before the trail ride, and the boys are feeling a little sore from the trotting as they dismount.

“I’m impressed your hat stayed on,” Mick says as he feels his muscles ache.

“That’s the point of a proper fitting hat. You can tell your trainers you had your workout for the day. Come on,” you make them follow you to the truck. As you get into town, you get stopped every other minute, being asked how you are and who your friends are. The boys look around the small store as you pick up your mother’s order.

“You and your boyfriend make quite the handsome couple,” the clerk, a church friend of your mother, says. She observes your startled face and smiles. “The one with brown hair, he seems very protective of you,” you look at Charles and catch his eye, causing both of you to look away with a blush.

“We aren’t dating, he’s a friend that I race with. They all are,” you deny, but you can’t help but wonder why your heart skipped a beat at the accusation.

“Sure honey, but you should see the way that boy looks at you,” you take the package, mind spinning.

“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson,” your voice is quieter as she pats your hand.

“You take care now, don’t forget about your roots when you become a big star,”

“I’ll dedicate my first win to you all,” you smile, taking a step away from the old oak counter.

“Good girl. Watch out on the roads tonight,”

“Yes, Ma’am,” when you approach the guys you notice how you and Charles naturally gravitate towards each other, but you are quick to distract yourself before you think too much about it.

“Everything alright?” Mick asks, poking your head. You swat away his hand as he goes to poke you again. Logan and Charles are trailing you, talking about something that you couldn’t care less about.

“Yeah, just thinking about something the shop owner said,”

“That Charles likes you?” Mick says, you huff and walk a little faster.

“He doesn’t though, Mickie. We are just friends, he’s never even flirted with me. Besides, I don’t even like him like that, and I would NEVER date someone on the grid,” lies, well mostly. The grid part is pretty true, that’s a mess you don’t wasn’t to touch. Mick can read you like a book, he’s your best friend and basically your brother. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you into a side hug as you walk.

“He flirts with you endlessly, you are just too blind to see it. Meine Liebe, he is so in love with you that he would crash someone out for you,” Mick looks at you, watching the gears in your brain turn.

“Well, if he is flirting with me that much, he really needs to step up his game,” you look at the sky, then to Mick.

“It’s a shame you are basically my brother, why can’t we date?” you groan, Mick loudly laughs.

“Alpine would hate that, can’t have two of their drivers dating,” Mick lowers his arm, poking your side.

“They are separating us, but our love shall prevail,” you carry on, enjoying the antics.

“Even Mick flirts with her easier than me,” Charles groans, looking at Logan for backup.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but they are literally the definition of siblings separated at birth. They joke like that all the time, he’s just her best friend,” Logan shakes his head.

“So there’s a chance?”

“Not with your flirting,” Logan pats Charles’s shoulder as they approach your truck.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, there is a storm coming,” you turn the key in the ignition, watching the boys get in the truck. Logan calls shotgun, leaving Charles and Mick in the back.

“Who let dying cats sing?” Mick teases you and Logan as you sing along with a country song, earning him the bird from both of you.

“Alright boys, wash up and then be down here for dinner. We won’t wait for you,” you say as you park the truck. Charles grabs the package for you, carrying it inside.

“I’ll take that, son,” your dad grabs the package from Charles as you walk through the door. “Y/n,” you follow his beacon, leaving the boys alone.

“Well, I will see you all in a bit,” Mick heads to his room, it’s obvious that he’s visited before.

Much to Charles’s dismay, he makes no progress on the flirting end for the rest of the week. When you get to Las Vegas, you are swept up in media and team duties. Charles sees more of Pierre than he does of you that weekend. He does notice when you post on Instagram.

instagram

y/username brought the boys home with me, still wouldn’t call them cowboys

mickschumacher to be fair, Logan and I fit in pretty well, Charles though…

charlesleclerc hey!

y/username charlie… you still don’t know how to wear a hat correctly

alpinef1team we 🫶 our cowgirl (and Cowboy Mick)

mercedesamgf1 our* Cowboy Mick 🤠

scuderiaferrari it’s okay Charles, even if you aren’t a cowboy, we still love you (Mick was ours first, back off)

charlesleclerc hey! you are supposed to be on my side

mickschumacher love the support guys 💙🩵❤️

user29 the shared admin parenting 😭

y/username charlie, it’s okay, not everyone is cowboy material

user aww, she brought Logan with her. best former grid friendship

user4 so we are ignoring the part where she got them all to wear chaps?

logansargeant you hear that mick? i’m better than you

mickschumacher impossible, i’m literally her best friend

y/username and they looked wonderful in them 🥰 (i love you two equally)

user2 poor charles, always forgotten even if they weren’t friends until recently

charlesleclerc best cowgirl and teacher in Montana ❤️

y/username only Montana? i’m wounded, you’re uninvited from the next trip

Mick hung around, pulling double duty for Mercedes and Alpine. He watched the race from the Mercedes garage, a tense place to be during the race. The Mercedes team qualified poorly in Q3, leaving them in the midfield. Logan accompanied him, an odd sight for most fans.

You had qualified well, with you and Pierre in P6 and P7 respectively. A crash up front took out Max and Lando, leaving the two of you in a battle with Oscar, Charles, and Carlos. A late safety car and a well timed undercut allowed you to move into P2, fighting for the win with Pierre right behind you. With five laps left to go, you find luck on your side once more. Oscar locked up, giving you just enough room to overtake him. When you cross the line five laps later, you feel tears running down your face.

“We did it, holy shit! Great work team, I’m so proud of you guys. This win is for the huge support network I have back home - I told you I’d dedicate my first win to you, and it’s for this team who has struggled and fought to be in the position to win races again,” you say on the radio as you take your cool down lap, waving to fans as you drive past.

The feeling of standing on top of your car is like nothing else, the crowd electric with you first win, a home win.

Pierre pulls into P3, quickly hoping out to embrace you, rubbing your helmet.

“We did it! You are amazing!” Pierre cheers.

“Finally a podium for us,” you agree, joining Pierre in heading to the barricades to celebrate with the team.

Charles makes his way to where you are putting on your team hat and sipping water a few minutes later.

“Welcome to the home win club,” he hugs you, wishing he was on the podium too.

“Thanks, Charlie. Sorry, I’m just so overwhelmed,” you smile but tears start to flow out of your eyes again. This is likely the only win you will ever get, and you know that.

“Amour,” his voice is soft and sympathetic as he wipes the tears off your cheeks. “You deserve every bit of this win, you drove so well,” he reassures you as you nod, sniffing the tears away.

“Interview time, champ,” Pierre grabs you, pulling you towards Guenther. He quickly shoots Charles a look that says he’s talking about this later. Pierre is protective of his teammate, and he isn’t scared to rip into his childhood friend if needed. You watch Pierre speak, then Oscar, before it’s your turn. They wait for you, not wanting to leave you vulnerable to the media.

“Y/n, first off, congratulations on a monumental win. How are you feeling?” Guenther asks, his voice jovial. He watched you grow as a driver in the Ferrari program, so he feels a bit proud.

“Overwhelmed, mainly,” you laugh, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “I, uh, carry the legacy of many women before me, those who drove, served as test and reserve drivers, and affiliated drivers. I really hope this win made them proud and make the girls driving in lower formulas know they can succeed here too,” you say, still breathing a bit heavier.

“That was one heck of a drive, how were you able to take the win?”

“A lot of luck, and confidence. I knew that I had to take some risks, especially on that overtake and defending the last few laps. I’m glad that Max and Lando are okay, those collisions aren’t fun,”

“One more question and then I will let you get your trophy. How will you take this confidence into the last two races?”

“Just keeping the energy up with the whole team. They’ve worked hard to get Pierre and I on the podium, and it’s nice to see it pay off, especially at my home race. You never really know when you will get to the podium, so I think we will just cherish this and hope the points keep coming,” you say, relieved to be done with interviews for now.

“Thank you, congratulations again,” Guenther says, letting you go. You give a wave and disappear to where Pierre and Oscar await.

“An all Alpine podium,” Mick teases, waiting around the bend for you.

“Former, but I guess it counts,” Oscar smiles as you launch yourself at your best friend.

“I’m so proud, meine Liebe, and I know Dad is too,” he hugs you tightly. Mick lets you go a moment later, promising to see you after the podium.

The cooldown room is nice, you relax in the chair as Oscar and Pierre chatter, watching the race highlights.

“Nice defending, you were a brick wall against Charles,” you fist bump Pierre.

“Ready?” Oscar asks, dragging you out of your seat. Pierre is the first out and onto the podium. “Just breathe, this is your moment,” Oscar reminds you before stepping out. Before you know it you are being drenched in champagne.

“This is just the start of the celebrations, mon amie,” Pierre says, wrapping an arm around you as you head back to the motorhome.

“Drinks on me tonight,” you cheer, ready to shower off the champagne and get media over with.

You are one of the last to arrive at the club, mostly because your phone died and you had to wait on it to charge. However, that just means you had more time to pregame, and you did.

“Oscar!” you drunkenly cheer, wrapping your arms around the Aussie.

“When did you get here? Are you already drunk?” he asks, trying not to laugh.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “I drank with Logan,”

“Logan is here?!” Oscar looks around the room, trying to spot his friend.

“No, silly, he’s in Miami. He was on the phone, duh,” you walk towards the bar, ordering a round of shots for your friends and you. You don’t hesitate in downing it, ordering a drink to take with you back onto the floor.

“How much have you had to drink?” Franco asks, wrapping an arm around you to keep you steady.

“Mmmm, five shots,” you giggle then poke his cheek, pushing his face a bit due to your sloppy motions. “You’re cute, just a babbyyy,”

“You are very pretty as well, how’d you know I have a thing for older women,” Franco flushes, the flirting coming out of nowhere. He honestly thought that you and Charles were dating, but he can’t help that he’s a natural flirt.

“Pierre! George!” you walk away before he can even process everything. You are off to do more shots, intending to get fucked up.

“You okay?” Max asks, quickly replacing you at Franco’s side.

“Y/n was just here, she’s an odd drunk, can she even drink that much?” Franco asks, very confused.

“She brought Tennessee moonshine to a race last year and she out drank Valtteri. I didn’t realize she’s been here,” Max looks around, searching for you.

“Whatever she drank earlier was strong then. Aren’t she and Charles dating? Why was she flirting with me?”

“Who knows,” Max shrugs, leaving Franco confused and alone as he spots you back at the bar in the VIP section the drivers reserved.

“You are cut off for now,” Max shakes his head as he stands beside you, taking the drink from your hand and keeping it for himself.

“Charlie! Tell Max to give me my drink back,” you pout, crossing your arms as you lean back against the bar, stumbling a little as your back hits the edge.

Charles’s eyes rake across you in concern as he quickly reaches out to steady you. He looks away at Max to get a silent read on the situation.

“Amour, how much have you had to drink? Didn’t you just get here?” Charles is more worried that you may have been drugged, no one acts like that after one drink.

“Five shots,” Charles watches you count on your fingers, holding up seven of them.

“And here?”

“Um, three shots and a drink. I just got here fourty minutes ago,” your words slur together as dizzying lights flash around the bar. The change in music tells everyone that Lando got behind the DJ booth.

“You are cut off for the hour, go dance some of it off then I will buy you a new drink,” Max says, winking at Charles. Before he can respond, you are dragging Charles onto the dance floor.

“You are a terrible flirt. You know who told me that you like me? Mickie,” you poke Charles’ chest as you dance close to him. Charles wraps his arms around your waist, keeping you close but providing support.

“It must’ve worked if you know now,” Charles leans down slightly, voice low against the pulsing music. You tilt your head up more, looking at him through hooded eyes, his body moving against yours as the bass builds up.

“No,” you say, lips centimeters away from brushing against his as the beat drops. “You need to work harder to earn me,” you slip out of his arms, going to find your aforementioned friend, leaving Charles alone and horny.

You find yourself back at the bar, no one there to stop you from drinking more. Well, that is until Mick shows up right before the bartender walks back over to you.

“Let’s celebrate the win, if you drink any more right now you will puke in 10 minutes,” Mick pulls you away, back to the other drivers. Fuck Charles, the bar is your one true love and Mick is denying you it.

“Here,” Lewis hands you a drink which you happily take. It’s just a mocktail, but you don’t know that.

“To our cowgirl and her first win!” Carlos toasts, cheers ringing out across your group. You catch Lando sneaking away back to the DJ booth, and you quickly follow.

“Lando, let me play a song,” you beg, and who is Lando to deny you after your first win? The grid gravitates towards the two of you as Lando helps you set yourself up.

“What are you playing?” Lando yells as you quickly pull up your song. Your devilish grin tells him everything as he helps you blend it into the song currently playing. The song slows as a low “tu tu tu tu” rings out, the lights turning in to focus on Max.

“Is this because I took away your drink?” Max yells, embarrassed and a little annoyed even though he thinks it’s funny. The rest of the guys are singing along, teasing Max. That’s the last thing you remember.

You wake up groggy on the couch of your hotel room, Mick in the bed. Based on the weird feeling in your mouth, you were puking before you fell asleep. Stumbling, you cross the room and crawl into bed beside Mick.

Mick wakes you up a few hours later, cup of coffee in hand.

“How much do you remember of last night?” he asks as you lightly groan, launching into your past memories.

You virtually sit down for a podcast later in the week to discuss your win.

“How does it feel going viral?” The one podcaster asks after you discussed your career and fighting in the midfield.

“Viral? Honestly, I’ve been so busy since the win that I haven’t been on social media,” you laugh, very confused.

“Gen Z has taken to you, you are all over TikTok and Twitter,”

“That’s wild, thanks Gen Z,” you smile, giving the camera a little salute.

“The after party seemed fun,”

“From what I remember, it was. It’s always a good time going out with the guys. Can I confess something?”

“Please do,” the podcaster says, eager for some gossip.

“I thought Franco was too young to be out with us. The first time he showed at the bar in Austin, I genuinely thought he was about to be thrown out,” you say, letting the conversation stay of that for a bit.

“So, a photo of you and Charles dancing at the club after your win went viral. We asked him about it and this is what he had to say,”

“Oh yeah, we’re dating, didn’t you know?” Charles says, looking quite serious, but you know it’s a joke, at least you think it is.

“Haha, yeah we are engaged, almost got married in Vegas. Didn’t you know?” you joke, stifling a laugh.

The podcast blew up and Alpine ate it up. The media team was quick to partner with Ferrari to do a couples challenge in the Alpine motorhome. You quickly leave once it’s done, escaping to your driver’s room. Charles follows you, sitting beside you as you take a deep breath.

“Sorry, it’s all a bit overwhelming. I am from a small town, I’m just not used to this type of attention,” you say and Charles holds your hands, providing comfort as electricity courses through you.

“You don’t have to be. Your fans think you are perfect, I think you are perfect,” Charles says, your eyes meeting his, searching for signs that he isn’t telling a lie.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you forever. You are beautiful, and kind, and smart,” Charles trails off as his eyes flicker to your lips. His right hand finds itself moving from your hand to your cheek. He leans in, lips brushing yours as he hesitates - waiting for you to take action.

You tilt your head up, mind spinning as you take in his scent and the moment. You don’t waste another moment, pressing your lips to his. Charles tenderly pulls away after a minute, resting his forehead on yours.

“I didn’t lie in that interview, amour, you are my cowgirl,” he says softly, a hint of relief in his voice.

“Yours? Oh no, Charlie, you will have to work harder to win that,” your sly smile tells him that the challenge isn’t over yet as he leans in to kiss you again.

“My stubborn, stubborn cowgirl,”

Can’t get enough? Check out @vitalverstappen’s sister story ⬇️!

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[bonefall]

BONES WHERE ARE YOU

I'm here I'm okay! Sorry I went radio silent for like two months LMAO I've been a busy boygirl.

I have been doing A LOT of things. The embarrassing truth is that I noticed I was going a while without posting, figured I'd stay quiet a little longer so I'd have fun stuff to share to "make up" for the fact I was quiet, but then things got delayed and I felt guilty I had nothing to show for being gone so long, and before I knew it it was like 2 months. Girl help

I've always got a ridiculous amount of irons in the fire, but mainly 3 big things have been keeping me quiet;

Thing 1 is, unfortunatly, a super secret, non-WC related game project. You have NO idea how badly I want to blabber about this, but my team asked me not to :///

It's so fucking cool and I've been working so hard on it. I have been able to research so many cool environments and cultures. OHH my god, did you have any idea that Iran has cloud forests?? Or that you can trace Mayan trade routes based on the color of obsidian you find in archeological sites??? I want to spill beans so bad.

Hopefully we'll make more progress on this project in a few months and then I can share details, but at the moment I'm honor-bound to silence OTL

THING 2 I've been doing is graduating college and finding a good job, which naturally is time consuming. I finally did though, so hopefully I'll have some cash to burn soon on commissions and such. I actually have a couple Clan Culture posts essentially completed as drafts, but I want them illustrated before releasing them.

Aaaand THING 3 is that I started playing the demo for an Indie game called Critter Cove. I apologize that this reason's kind of mundane, but it is only a demo for what the devs call "the first 2 hours of the game" and I've already got 40 hours logged.

It's a good game, man. I'm obsessed with the character creator. It's got fat bodies, squid-faced options, hyena ears, lots of tails, even TVhead options, everything. The devs are also super responsive on the Discord. I have made so many fun designs lmaooo.

It releases into Early Access on the 10th and you save your progress into the main game. It's like Animal Crossing meets Windwaker. Can't recommend it enough if you're into these sorts of games.

TL;DR I've been up to non-WC things.

Doesn't mean I'm gone though! I'll be back soon. As soon as I have some time, I'm going to catch up on the Ivypool's Heart stuff so I can formulate an opinion about it.

[eomayas]

his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive��, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᑕᕼEᖇᖇIᗷOᗰᗷ ᗩᑎᗪ ᔕIᖇᑭEᑎTIOᑌᔕ ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

The last two designs for the main cast. With these two done, I can finally work on miscellaneous characters that I've been eyeing the most.

Again, thoughts below the cut:

My issues with their Original designs:

Sir Pentious:

I thought I would only have one thing to say about him (the unnecessary eyes) since he was my favorite in the entire original cast but having taken a closer look at him for this, I saw a lot of things that bothers me.

Too many eyes. specifically the lower half of his body has too many eyes and it seems detrimental to him. It's kind of painful to think about it since I do not think we ever see those eyes close. Is he just slithering on the ground with those exposed eyes? That's got to be irritating at best and damaged at worst as he continuously slithers on them.

There are eyes on the bowtie and the hat? There are already 4 extra eyes on his hood, so why have even more? I get that the original Pentious design was basically a monsterous amalgamation of eyes but the eye thing could have been scrapped altogether.

While his palette was the least red out of the cast (More so composed of yellows), it still blends in with the rest of the reds.

The claws are an unnecessary repeating design trait (Alastor and Vox notably have them too). I don't think it would've been too big of a difference to just keep his fingers fully black.

The stripes on his suit are too thick. It's called pinstripes for a reason.

I don't like how the hat is shaped to fit the head, It's awkward.

not a point, but I just wanted to say how the blue color palette works really well with him in that last episode.

CherriBomb:

She's not that bad of a design (She's sort of bland in my opinion) but it's the little small details about her that makes her so simple and also so complicated at the same time. There are so many batches of freckles scattered everywhere, little explosion lines on her skirt as well as the X on her chest, the tattoos are a jamble of random loops and bombs, and her tattering doesn't have an easy shape to consistently draw.

The thought process for these two:

Mx. Pentious:

Pentious goes by both Sir/Miss/Mx. but uses she/they pronouns.

Minimized the actual amount of eyes on her, I kept it only to her actual eyes and those on her hood.

Gave her a butterfly-shaped hood. It's nothing deep since it stems from the fact the notches in Sir Pentious' hood almost looked like one to my bad eyesight. I decided to play more into that idea.

I read some posts where people talk about how Sir Pentious should have a snout and while I understand why and fully support people giving him one, I really didn't want to add the snout to this design. It drove me crazy since I'm not a big fan of it. I tried a compromise where her head was shaped more like Phineas.

Kept the tophat but removed its eye and mouth. If I remember correctly, Viv took that from one of her co-workers from the pilot. I decided to just have it as a regular tophat.

It doesn't have all the colors, but her design does have the Neptunic flag.

I'm not sure if this even is a real snake but I based Mx. Pentious' design on this:

CherriBomb:

Scraped most of her features in exchange for a sukeban theme. I personally have zero knowledge about the punk scene in Australia.

A majority of the suggestions I received for her rough draft had something to do with the skirt. I elongated it and gave it a slit in which the magenta from the inside is able to pop out.

Thought it would be a cute detail to have her hair explode if she's angry.

----

Apologies this took too long to be posted, Life got in the way as well as the fact I was feeling shitty about Pentious' first draft. Her skin was an awkward and ugly shade of green and seeing some posts critical of Pentious' design got me to think a little bit more about what direction I'd like to move her redesign.

You could see this in the earlier rough sketches but this was how Pentious' first redesign looked like

[iliketangerines]

thinking about bi-han and a reader who is just dtf all day every day and is constantly asking for sex whenever he’s available and ohhh my godd he’s so sore and over sensitive but his pretty little thing is just so cute and oh! more sex <3 im insane i’m actually chewing on him rn

just one more time

a/n: i would also fuck bi han all day if he was real

pairing: bi han x gn!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) blow jobs, deepthroating, accidental exhibitionism and voyeurism

Bi Han sits in his office, writing up some draft for a order for more supplies or something of the sort, when you walk into the outfit, robe already half undone

he looks up at you, smiling at the sight, and you just give him those large puppy dog eyes and scoot yourself to sit in his lap

your lap grinds down on his cock, and he lets out a soft grunt, still sensitive from this morning and last night

you ask him in a whiny voice, please, please you need him right now, and Bi Han presses his lips together, wondering if he should deny you

you were just so needy all the time, but by the gods, you’re so pretty in his lap, lower lip trembling and eyes wide as your hips grind down on him

he relents, leaning down to give you a kiss and cupping the back of your neck to bring you in closer to him, and you let out a little moan at the feeling

your hips never cease their movements, and you just grind down on him, easing him back to full hardness

you bury your hands in his hair, pulling it out of its neat bun and running your fingers through the strands, and you slightly tug on them

it makes Bi Han let out a small grunt, and he parts from your lips to bring them to your exposed neck, sucking dark hickeys along with the fading ones

his teeth nip at the skin, leaving red marks, and you whimper at the feeling and finally slide off his lap and settle on your knees right between his spread legs

your hands quickly rid himself of his pants, having practiced the motion too many times to count, and you lick your lips at the sight of his cock, flushed and leaking pre-cum

bringing your tongue to lick a stripe up the base of his cock to the tip, Bi Han threads his fingers in your hair and tugs at it gently to make you whine

your patience quickly runs out for the teasing, and your lips wrap themselves around the tip

you press your tongue into the slit, lapping at the pre-cum leaking from him, and Bi Han moans at the feeling, telling you that you’re doing so well for him

humming around his cock, you start to bob your head up and down, tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, and you hand pumps at whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth

the sound of your slurps fill the room along with Bi Han’s grunts and your moans around his cock, sending pleasure buzzing through his every sense

there’s also the slight pain that stings along with the pleasure, not having enough time to recover from how you wanted him

but fuck, he could never resist you, could never say no to how your lips press against his skin and how your sweet voice begs for more

his hand pushes your head down further on his cock, and he closes his eyes at how the warmth of your mouth engulfs him

he spares a glance down at you, finding drool dripping down your chin and eyes glazed over in pleasure, and your hand stuck down your pants and rubbing at yourself

Bi Han just moans at your name at the sight and pushes you down even further, listening to the slight whimper you let out as your nose buries itself in the curls at the base

he holds you there, listening to your strained breaths, and once tears start to fall down your cheeks at the lack of oxygen, Bi Han pulls your head off his cock

he listens to your coughs and gasps for air before pushing you down again, and he bites his lip at the feeling of you swallowing around his cock

there’s a knock on the door, and Bi Han’s eyes widen, letting go of your hair to quickly fix anything wrong with his appearance

you go up for air, taking in a few deep breaths, and he clears his throat and tells the person that they may enter

it’s just one of the foot soldiers, and they ask for some more supplies, something about the equipment breaking, Kuai Liang accidentally melting it while practicing

Bi Han nods his head, and his knee bangs against the table loudly when he feels your hand pump at his cock and your tongue swirl around the tip

the soldier asks if he’s okay, and Bi Han coughs and says that he’s fine and if there were any more requests or complaints he had to put in

the foot soldier nods and continues, asking about the new training regiments that Bi Han had put in, and the grandmaster grits his teeth as he listens to the questions

you’re relentless, just teasing and licking at him, fully aware of what you were doing, and your other hand comes up to massage his balls

Bi Han places his fist against his mouth as he listens, trying to stay focused on what the soldier was asking, but it’s hard to concentrate as the pleasure builds and builds within him

his voice is deep, a little strained, as he answers the foot soldier’s questions, talking slowly to answer the intricate questions and to stop himself from moaning your name

the damn foot soldier just nods along and asks a clarifying question just as you take him in your mouth again and bob your head up and down slowly

Bi Han hums in what he hopes is something that sounds natural, and he asks the question as quickly as he can

the foot soldier bows and thanks the grandmaster before leaving, closing the door behind them, and Bi Han finally grips onto your hair again, shoving you down the whole way

it makes you whine around his cock, and it’s all he needs to let out a groan and cum into your mouth, painting your throat white

you gladly swallow all of it, humming at the taste, and he pulls your head up to find you with a dopey smile and your hand retracting from your pants

it seems that you’ve cum as well

you stand up and lean down to kiss him, and he can taste himself as your press your tongue into his mouth

that’s all your do for a moment, holding him closer and kissing him, but then you pull away and lick your lips

and Bi Han knows that you’re not quite satisfied just yet

[tallglasstea]

Media N Basketball Part 1

Synopsis: The WNBA’s new Social Media Manager, Amara, heads to Seattle to help improve the Seattle Storms media pages. She has had a big crush on Gabby Williams but avoids her due to rumors that Gabby is dating Marine Johannes.

Please note: This takes place during the 2025 season and this is my first fic in yearsss. Forgive me if I am a bit rusty.

Thursday July 11, 2025

Third P.O.V

It’s almost the halfway point of the 2025 WNBA season and Amara couldn’t be more excited. She has officially been at the W for 9 months and has been having the time of her life. Still getting the hang of things, but overall she loves her coworkers and just the overall environment. Witnessing the 2025 draft and seeing all the college stars getting drafted and to just know that she was really a part of the big moment will always be a core memory for her.

Being based in NYC meant that she helped the Liberty, Sun, and Mystics a lot with their social media pages because she was so close. Providing a new and fresh outlook on their pages, the team's pages have grown exponentially. The Liberty has grown to 1.2 million on Tiktok and 2 Million on Instagram. The Sun to  600K on Tiktok and 400K on Instagram. The Mystics to 724K on Tiktok and 527K on Instagram. Teams immediately took notice of the newfound fanbases and the rest enlisted to have Amara flown out to help their teams.

Amara’s first stop would be Seattle Storm with her favorite (and closest) coworker Destiny. Despite having Jewell, Nneka and Nika, the Storm could not seem to grow their fan bases on social media. Amara couldn’t help but feel nervous as her personal celebrity crush was also on the Seattle Storm this season.

Amara’s P.O.V 

“Gworllll are you excited to go to Seattle?!?” Destiny nudged Amara’s shoulder while they were settling on the plane to take off. “Your favorite girl is going to be there.”

“Pleaseeee stop. This is work, we need to stay professional.” I tried to keep my resolve but I couldn’t help to smile when thinking about my little crush. “Plus I heard that she is dating Marine Johannes so that dream is dead anyways.” Maybe if I said it enough then my little crush would fade away. ‘But she looked soo fine during the 2024 Olympics,’ I thought to myself.  

“Mmchttt” Destiny rolled her eyes and rolled over to close her eyes. I was tired too and we had a long flight ahead of us, so I might as well get some rest. 

Friday July 12, 2025

Destiny and I are headed to the Storm’s new practice facility, and my anxiety is through the roof. Not very demure nor mindful of me huh? I love working for the W but it’s still very nerve wracking having to meet new people and new teams. Especially women as tall and beautiful as them. I’m not short but I’m not exactly tall either, standing at a cool 5’6. I was so into my thoughts I didn’t even realize that destiny was talking to me until she started snapping in my face. 

“Yoooooo is there anyone there? Bitch are you on autopilot?!” Destiny continuously snapping in my face. I mush her with my free hand. “Don’t snap at me! Anywhore what were you saying?” I asked. “What type of content are we starting with? Since we are almost there, I want to prepare,” she replied. Looking at the GPS, I realize that she is absolutely right. 2 minutes away. What if I crash this car right now? I'm kidding, I'm kidding (sort of, not really). I’m thinking what would be the best video to start showcasing their personalities. “I think we should do the rapid fire questions for each of the players. We should probably feel them out and kind of gauge what they are comfortable with answering and they aren’t,” I stated after a few beats. “ I call dibs on Nneka, Nika, Victoria, Mercedes, Joyner and Sami.” I wanted to make sure that I didn’t really have to interact with Gabby, my stalkerish ass could just admire her from a distance. Destiny looked at me bewildered as we pulled in front of the facility. “You evil bitch, I can’t believe you called dibs,” she laughed as we got out of the car. 

The walk from the car ride to the main practice gym was short but felt like it took forever.

We had unloaded our equipment and were waiting outside the gym for the General managers and coaches. We, mainly I, didn’t want to just bust in on their practice while Destiny wanted to do exactly that. Once we introduced ourselves to the GMs and coaches, we told them our game plan for content. I took a deep breath, as the doors to the gym opened. Here goes nothing…..

To be continued….

Sooo what did we think? I know I’m rusty so don’t eat me up toooooooo bad. I was trying to make it short but I figured it would be better as a multi-part fic. Please let me know what y’all think! Since there was nothing not even hcs on Gabby I figured I would start some of my own.

If y’all like my writing style, I would like to open myself up to WNBA requests along with other womens sports.

Welp see ya soon bookies!

[her-favorite]

THE HOLES IN HIS SNEAKERS; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: sort of fluff? honestly, i have no idea what this would be categorized as.. read to find out!! 😽 - talks of (sex)ual acts but not blatant smut - that’s it, i think

wc: 1,252 - just something small bc i felt like writing something small

a/n: i’ve wanted to write something for matt based on an ethel song for a bit (totally don’t have a pt. 1 to a horror series for him based on another one of her songs in my drafts) so i decided on dust bowl! also i’m seeing her live on the 27th and i’m so fucking excited 🤭 (technically tomorrow since it’s past 1 am when i’m posting this)

a/n 2: as someone who lovesss dialogue, there really isn’t much in this (sadly), so if you’re like me and you like reading about people talking, this probably won’t be very interesting lmao but you can give it a try! 🫶🏻

SYNOPSIS: He was the love of your life, someone that only ever cherished you. You both were made for each other.. and only each other.

-

a/n 3: listening to the song will help!! promise (had to do an unofficial vers. bc it’s a demo!)

-

He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.

From his piercing blue eyes, to his messy, soft brown hair, to his perfectly sculpted nose, to his pretty pink lips. It was as if someone had took centuries to hand sculpt his features carefully.

His clothes were old and worn, but it only showed growth. His white sneakers were stained with dirt and grass, with holes seeping through the fabric, but he always told you it was because he wanted them to be worn until they couldn’t be used anymore. His mind always amazed you, though he was as humble as ever. Not once did he speak of himself as someone superior to others, he wanted to be on the same level as outsiders. He wanted that normalcy that comes with growing up.

It was easy to fall in love with Matt.

He looked at you as if you had hung the moon and hand placed the stars. His ocean eyes tinted with admiration anytime they had caught yours. He looked to you as his lover; not a piece of meat that he could bite into and swallow whole so there was nothing left. He didn’t love you for your body, your beautiful sculpture was just a bonus. He loves you for you.

His big hands took time on you. They felt and molded into your curves and marks, memorizing every small and big detail on your skin. From your eyebrows, down to your ankles, he lets his calloused palms gently glide over your soft skin. Whispered praises always left his sweet lips, sinking you deeper into euphoria. He always knew the right words to say, as if he only knew those words in those moments.

He never rushed anything. The way his lips or his fingers or his eyes traveled your body, he worshipped you as if he was only put on earth to do so. He knew you deserved it, you were the only thing that deserved only good in your life. And he’d do anything to do that for you.

It was written in both of your minds that you’d end up together. It was the only way.

Back then, when everyone was naïve and dumb, you and him had made a pact, back in middle school. Had anything happen to you, Matt would join. When you both were younger, it was all just words. But now, as you grow older together, live together, and experience more together, the words became more real; they became set in stone. The both of you knew that if you were to pass, Matt wouldn’t waste a second to be with you; and vice versa.

Some people thought you guys were too close. They thought it was odd to spend so much time with your lover, muttering to others that they’d get sick of their’s had they be around them for too long. But you couldn’t get sick of Matt. And neither could he.

Matt had brought a light into your life, even at such a young age. He was a shy, suppressed boy when you had met him. His father drove a hard bargain into making his son’s life difficult and puzzling, but that never stopped Matt. There were times, when you both were in Highschool, where he’d run away at night and climb the tree by your window because he needed to be near you. On certain nights like those, where his father’s harsh words cut deep wounds, Matt would let you hold him as you promised him a future of leaving this old, shitty town and traveling together, free of everyone and everything.

When you both would have nights like that, it was easy to think of the future. Sometimes, if he was drowsy, he’d confess about how he wanted to be a writer. He wanted to construct his own stories, where he can escape into the words and become the character that he wrote about, delving deep into the flimsy, white paper. He’d whisper, on the edge of sleep, about how he’d write about you. About how he pictured your future together and the way he quietly slurs his words as sleep slowly invades his body, sending him into a deep slumber as all of his body weight lays on you.

You knew he loved you. It was obvious.

Though, the thought of how many other pretty girls have tried to entice him into being theirs never failed to make you spiral. He was your pretty boy, and everyone could see how beautiful he is. Of course other people wanted to be chosen by him.

“I love you.”

His words didn’t shock you the first time he had told you; like you had said, it was obvious. They slipped from his lips when you both had been at your regular Friday drive-in movie. Your eyes were captivated by the old, black and white movie with bad acting that you didn’t notice the way his eyes were captivated by you.

His gaze never wavered as they ventured over your side, perfectly unique.. perfectly you. He tried to fight it, tried to not distract you from the screen that caught every bit of your attention, but he already knew he was going to lose the game.

Not once had Matt looked at any other women with any interest ever since that day in first grade. At such a young, and innocent age, he knew he was made for you. All he’s ever wanted was you. He never gave another girl the light of day, or porn, or anything else. Because he looked at you as someone who deserves all of his attention; someone so effortlessly beautiful, mind and body, that he found that he physically couldn’t ignore you, even if he so desperately tried. You were just so damn captivating.. even after all these years.

So many times, on your scheduled date nights, you’ve both ended up with your lips entwined as your labored breathing shares with his, his pretty blue eyes and pretty pink swollen lips captured only by you, even with pornographic scenes playing on the big screen. He didn’t need them, or want them, he wanted you. His eyes were always on you, no matter what you were doing.

With your whispered promises of the future, it was hard to not feel guilty.

Your hands shook as your eyes rimmed red, sobs being ripped and pulled from you as you begged and pleaded with anything to bring him back. This wasn’t set in stone, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to leave you here without him; he was supposed to stay with you, to leave this godforsaken town and for him to become a writer and to have children and to grow old together, until you rot beside him. But now that’s not an option.

You had promised him a future.. now he doesn’t get one. Because, as you rip at the grass surrounding his headstone, you beseech and cry out as you beg for someone to take you, not him. He didn’t deserve it, he never did anything wrong. Your words were now lies as they replay and replay and replay in your mind, taunting and mocking you as you sob for your lover back.

Though, one thing that was for certain, was your pact. And you were sure to join him as you slowly lose consciousness, your cold body laying beside Matt’s grave.

With the holes in his sneakers.

And his eyes all over me.

[onerainydayatthespringcourt]

Discussing the tithe in ACoMaF:

Honestly, this is likely a hill I’m going to die on, but I’m willing. So, let’s talk about the tithe in ACoMaF.

The tithe:

So this is the tithe. Giving something in exchange for getting something.

Tamlin did not invoke the tithe for the entire fifty years that Amarantha ruled the continent, even though it pays for keeping the court running. And even though technically speaking the springcourt was the only court that was 'free' under Amanarantha, as in, the citizens remained inside the court, and were not drafted to UTM, therefore still able to go about their day to an extent (I'll assume it would be enough to keep executing your profession, given that they also had enough time and energy to celebrate a folk festival every year, Calanmai). But still, Tamlin did not invoke the tithe during that period of time. After Amarantha was beat by Tamlin, and everybody went into the business of trying to get back into their former way of life, Tamlin eventually decided that it was finally time to begin collecting the tithe again.

However, keep in mind that it was not immediately after UTM. Three months passed between Amarantha's assasination and the moment when the second book starts.

Furthermore, when they talk about the tithe some pages into ACOMAF, it is explained that Tamlin still pushed the collection of the tithe back one month to give every one of his citizens just a bit more time to collect it.

If however a faerie still fails in handing in their tithe by then, the following happens:

That’s what Lucien tells Feyre.

Everyone who fails to bring the tithe will get an additional three days to be able to still make it. Granted, depending on what the tithe is, three days might not be enough. But, I’ll get to that in a second.

Note also: Tamlin will be expected to hunt them down. It appears that Lucien is referencing some sort of High Lord Rule. It could be a magical rule that gets Tamlin to hunt them, like a magical responsibility thing like the Calanmai ritual. Or maybe a legislative rule, written down in some sort of Court constitution. Or it could also be just a plain social rule that Tamlin is expected to abide by. Since that is not further specified, the only thing that can be said for certain is that a rule like that exists, though the nature of that rule, and with it the level to which one has to commit to it, is not known.

Despite that, we can definitely note that Tamlin does not enforce the hunt plainly because he wants to.

And then, when Tamlin does actually confront the water-wraith after they failed in handing in their tithe, we get this information:

So, you don’t actually have to hand in the tithe in just three days. You can literally just wait 6 months and pay double. Now, double might seem like an unfair increase, but really it isn’t. If you think about it, all that this rule is, is an extension of the time that you get for earning the first tithe.

You just get an additional six months.

Also, as it was established, the tithe is literally calculated and based on your income and status. Now I cannot say for sure what the term 'status' refers to, as it is not specified, but I would make the fair guess that it means that even the rich that don’t have an income, but just a stale heritage, get taxed accordingly. So it means that acquiring the tithe isn’t an impossible feat. It’s really just taxes, but more fair, because this time the rich get taxed accordingly, too.

Also:

You might wonder: How much is the tithe for the water-wraiths that they failed to hand it in in the time given to them (four months)?

Through Feyre, we find out that the tithe for the water-wraiths is, drumroll please 🥁…. A bucket of fish. Yeah, a single basket of fish for the entirety of the water wraith population of the pond …

All they had to do was hand it a single basket of fish. And they didn’t.

(Also, I find it so stupid that Feyre literally just says they don’t even need a basket of fish, bc how would she know? She never asked Tamlin what happens to the things people bring for the tithes. She just assumed that they don’t need them bc she is dead set on making Tamlin out to be this splurging man, living lavishly in unnecessary luxury, which we know is not the case. Tamlin literally shares his entire mansion with every spring court citizen that knocks on his door, but sure, he is a true feudal lord with zero regard for his subjects.)

Anyway, now, during the conversation the water wraith has with Tamlin, Feyre gets the impression that the water wraith is starving.

And why does Feyre think so? Because the water wraith claims the pond they live in is empty of fish.

Now, why is that? Because the water wraiths ate all the fish.

Feyre immediately makes the connection to her former life, when her family also struggled for food. See, they, too, know what it means to have no food, to feel the hunger. Feyre begins to pity the water wraith, which Tamlin apparently does not. She gives them her jewelry (which Tamlin had gifted to her) so they can pay the tithe.

Her giving away jewelry that was gifted to her is stupid for several reasons.

One, consider the aforementioned terms of the tithe. The water wraiths did not need to pay the tithe now. They still had six months before it would come to that, but somehow Feyre acts like it was a matter of life and death. Like it had to happen now.

Second, the water wraiths don't actually need the fish to sustain themselves. Shocker, right. Feyre knows that as well.

This is one of Feyre's thoughts. The water wraiths can eat anything. They're not dependant on the fish since they're not biologically wired to only be able to digest them or whatever, they can eat anything. So all they would have to do from that day on is save two basket of fish for six months, and eat literally anything else in that time, and all would be well, but somehow we're supposed to believe they can't and won't do it.

The main reason, however, for why it was so stupid is this one:

We find out later that the water wraiths they're not starving really, but more so they’re cursed with "insatiable appetite". I'll try to wrap my head around that below. You'll see.

You would think they’re not even starving, since the word appetite was used. They’re just constantly craving food. Appetite does not refer to hunger. It just refers to the desire to eat. However, in the line before that, it says that they do actually die of starvation, which ultimately begs the question of: HOW?

When is it that their hunger/appetite isn’t satiated enough (which, by definition it can never actually be, because it’s insatiable) that they starve?

Do you see how underdeveloped this plot point is? It’s all just super unclear and vague. It makes zero sense 🤦‍♀️😒

Okay, last point.

During the conversation that Feyre and Tamlin have, Feyre brings up the possibility of replenishing the pond. She asks Tamlin to do so, and when Tamlin declines, Feyre of course takes that as yet another reason for why Tamlin should be judged. She thinks him cruel and the reader is supposed to do the same thing.

But, in the conversation with Alis (image before this one), it is revealed that actually no one, not a single faerie in the spring court, would have given the water wraiths money or anything else of value for that matter, because it virtually makes no sense. They just spend whatever someone gives to them, trying to satiate a hunger that cannot be mended.

And they know this. Everyone else knows it. But Feyre refuses to believe it.

The jewelry that Feyre gave them will last merely a week. A week. We're talking about royal jewelry, possibly the most expensive jewelry in the entire court. That’s nothing. But somehow, we’re all supposed to be on Feyre's side here and think that it would be the right thing to give them money or resources.

Until when? Exactly? Because as it is, there would never be an end to it.

Now I’m not saying that making them give away something is more sensical. It’s obvious that they struggle to curb their hunger and making them forfeit on food has proven to be an exhausting task for them to accomplish, given that they failed this tithe.

Only that … only that according to Tamlin, the tithe has been around for ages. His father did it like this, the father of his father did it like this and so on and so forth. Btw, that means it’s been a lot of time since faeries essentially don’t die unless they're killed. And all of this in turn means that the water wraiths have had to have paid their tithes in the past. Otherwise they wouldn’t be around anymore (bc royal hunt). So it gets you wondering: How come is it that they were able to pay every single tithe in the past and only now they can’t?

Now, it could definitely be that when Tamlin killed Amarantha and took over the spring court again, they struggled to adjust to it in the little time that passed. However, that’s just a guess. And it’s not backed up by anything, because Acotar has little to no world building and all that we know about the history we find out in the details that are conveniently added just how it fits the narrative whenever a new book comes out 😀 Also, if you look a little closer into this, you will realize that there is no reason for why one should assume that they somehow conveniently managed to sustain themselves in the fifty years that Amarantha ruled, and only now when times have literally turned better for everyone again, the moment that they have to hand in one basket of fish, suddenly they are in immediate danger of starvation. Not to mention that after the tithe is over, and another week passes (a week in which they were able to sustain themselves with the jewelry that Feyre gave them), we never hear anything about the water wraiths struggling ever again. Somehow, despite apparently starving, they still make it work and magically manage to stay alive long enough to repay their debt to Feyre later on. So either they have insane Plot Armour after that, or their situation was never that dire to begin with, and was only written so momentarily to make Tamlin look bad. As an author, you should aspire to not write either of those two options.

Therefore, the explanation I would offer is:

The tithe is just another example of Sjm's inconsistent, bad worldbuilding and it goes to show furthermore that she was just trying to find a way to make Tamlin's character look bad. Which was a total blunder. Like, it's embarassing how much this backfires the moment that you decide to untangle the mess she's written.

Anyway, I can’t believe I’ve spent so much time discussing the fking tithe, but this has been simmering in my brain for like two years now so I just needed to make this post!

[withlovelunette]

How to construct character psychology!

– Introduction

Hello hello! :D I’ve been very slow with my writing lately due to uni work (and some unforeseen health issues), but I’d like to still be able to make content and be interactive in the writing community, so I’m here again to share some advice based on my own experiences! One of my favourite things about writing is writing characters, specifically constructing a character’s psychology. I’d like to preface this post by saying that while I’ve had formal classes in psychology, I’m by no means any sort of expert within the field, and I also don’t believe that every aspect of how a character is written needs to be rooted in realism. However, I do want to share some insights that I got from it, and also because I feel like “character psychology” has this very mystified weight to it that makes it seem a lot bigger and intimidating than it needs to be.

So! My goal is just to share some advice on how to break down a character’s psychology and work from there! If you like what you read and would like to read more, I’ve also written a post about creating “complex” characters, which you can find the link to here! Aaand yes I think that’s about all I have to say beforehand, I hope you enjoy :,)

What do I mean when I say psychology?

Before getting into the nitty-gritty, I’d like to start with the basics, just to make sure people are on the same page when reading this post. When I’m talking about psychology here, I’m specifically referring to a character’s cognition, as in how they process information and act on it/make judgments. I’m not necessarily referring to personality in this case (although personality is an aspect of psychology, but I’m more so referring to personality as a consequence of cognition here, rather than as a collage of traits and behaviour).

Another thing I want to clarify is that exactly how much of human behaviour is nurture vs nature is a hotly debated topic that I’m completely under-qualified to take a stance on, but for the sake of this post; I believe both are equally essential aspects of human behaviour, so just keep that in mind! (I’m looking at any behaviourists in the chat rn). That being said; I’m not really comfortable treating psychology as “nature” (as such rhetorics are often used in gender-essentialist and other bigoted ways of thinking), so my main focus will be nurture, since that’s what is most readily observable!

Determining character motivation

If you’re working with very little or bare minimum characterization, my recommendation is to consider; what motivates a person to act? And by this, I’m not referring to the external quest or goal behind the character, but rather, what’s the core of what motivates your character to act at all? Even in grand, epic adventures of good vs evil, where the external goal is as simple as “putting an end to whatever evil the bad guys are doing”, there needs to be a reason a character is specifically on the side that they’re on. Multiple characters can be on the same side, but they might find themselves on that side for vastly different reasons, even when their exterior goals are the same. From there, you’ll want to consider what informs this motivation in particular.

One technique I love to employ, when still figuring out my character, is to have them make some sort of bizarre decision, a decision I’d initially think to be improbable for this particular character, and then try to list off various justifications or variables that would allow for this character to make this particular decision. There’s a couple of reasons for why I do this.

1) It removes some of the pressure to have a perfectly cohesive, perfectly put together and neatly defined character from the get-go. The drafting process isn’t just for plot and story structure’s sake, it’s also there for you to experiment with characters! Having your characters make story altering decisions that possibly challenge or contradict themselves is a great way to make sure that you’re writing active characters as opposed to more passive ones, and I think the first couple of drafts should really be a playground for you to see just how far you can stretch your characters based on their characterisation.

2) It helps me clarify what is and isn’t important in my character’s decision making. I’m a firm believer that most decisions/actions aren’t inherently in or out of character; it just depends on whether or not the readers/viewers can understand the character’s thought process behind their decision, and this ultimately comes down to how well you, as the writer, conveys the character’s priorities when they make decisions. If you’re established that a character acts based on a code of honour, an exterior source to morality and conduct, then the justifications and reasonings they would use to justify murder would likely be very different than a character who acts based on their own convictions. This is also a great way to show character development; by showing how a character’s decisions gradually change as their cognition change as they develop.

3) It allows me to explore nuance and make note of potential contradictions within the character’s way of thinking—which is often the most interesting aspects of a character’s psychology, at least in what I enjoy to write and read. Most real people don’t have perfectly cohesive morals, and most people can’t always act congruently with their morals either, so allow for your characters to make some bizarre decisions! See how far you can stretch their cognition! These decisions don’t have to be canon to the story, but it’s a good way to actually solidify what line of thinking your character makes when faced with difficult and potentially morally indicative choices.

Work your way backwards!

If you already have the overall traits and behavior of your character pinned down, you can always work your way backwards! As a pantser, this is a very common occurrence for me. I have a character with a clear goal and defined characteristics, but they’re completely uninformed so far, as I usually discover the cause of their motivation and characteristics as I write the story. As such, most of my characters don’t have any sort of backstory established until I’m much further into the process, as I discover it as I go along. So here’s some things I look out for in my character writing when creating a backstory after I’ve already established a character.

1) What are some things the character is often drawn towards? Humans are typically very habitual, a lot of us enjoy some sense of familiarity (to varying degrees depending on the person), and taking note of what your character tends to gravitate towards can be a great stepping stone to fleshing out backstory. An example could be a somewhat cold, stoic character who’s incredibly picky with their relationships due to trust issues (pretty common characterization) has a tendency to let their guard down more when around elderly people. Why is that? Maybe they were raised by very old parents, or even grandparents. Maybe it’s a cultural thing to treat elderly with more respect. Maybe it’s a religious thing. Maybe it’s because elderly people have treated them with more kindness in the past, etc. Note that this can be flipped too! Maybe this character feels uneasy around people closer to their own age, or even people who are younger than them.

2) How does your character socialize? The way a character approached social settings can often be very indicative of how they were raised, as that tends to affect how people form attachments (according to attachment theory in psychoanalysis, at least). Are they very sociable? If so, why? Is it because they’re accustomed to being around a lot of people? Maybe they had a very large family, or maybe they had a family that took part in a very active social sphere. Maybe this character just comes off as sociable because they understand the value of social connections. Why’s that? Maybe their family have a political influence, or maybe they have a business they want to sell, etc. Or maybe it’s the complete opposite; maybe this character grew up with little to no family at all, and that’s why they want to make friends and connections. If so, then maybe that affects how they make decisions, leaving them incredibly loyal and somewhat co-dependent. Even the smallest character traits and behaviours can be expanded upon to inform you of how that character was possibly raised, it’s really just about digging into said behaviour!

3) How receptive are they to new experiences or other people’s perspective? This is also somewhat linked to attachment theory, but it doesn’t have to be approached that way! The reason I bring this point up is because I find that a character’s receptiveness is often a good way to gauge their relationship with their parent. For example, a character with very strict, traditionalist parents might adopt that outlook on life because it offers them a sense of stability and security. They weren’t raised to be adaptable or to adjust themselves to new experiences, and thus have a difficult time accepting things outside of their established paradigm. This would suggest that this character likely didn’t rebel much to their parents’ outlooks on things (or if they tried, they failed), since they adopted said outlook for themselves. Another way to write this character (with the same premise) is to have them react in the opposite way; maybe they are super open and receptive because the rigidness of their parents prevented them from ever experiencing anything. Maybe the status quo bored them, or maybe they see their parents as narrow minded. This characterisation suggests that there’s possibly more tension (not necessarily in a negative way) between the character and their parents.

Interplay between morals & behaviour

A character’s morals and behaviour don’t always have to align. Like I mentioned in an earlier point, humans hold a lot of contradictions, and how people cope with those contradictions can vary. However, how do you determine if a contradiction is purposeful rather than a case of out-of-character writing?

Let’s say you have a character who views all animals as sacred, and this is something they were raised with. Suddenly, this character is thrust into a situation in a different world/kingdom/region/etc. where eating animal meat is the only viable food option to survive. They decide to do it, despite their morals directly conflicting with this behaviour.

One way this character might justify this is by thinking “well, my intentions matter most, and my intention was never to hurt animals, so while I feel bad for killing an animal for food, my intentions of doing so respectfully makes this action more acceptable to me.”

But another character in the exact same situation might not be satisfied with such logic. Maybe they see intentions as irrelevant, and only care about the consequences of their actions. If it’s been established beforehand that a character is consequentialist, then this action, paired with the justification above, would feel incredibly out of character, because the logic behind the justification is not intuitive to the reader.

Whether a contradiction feels purposeful or out-of-character ultimately boils down to what information and how much of it you’ve given to the readers, so that they have the information necessary to break down the interplay between the character’s morals and behaviour. 

Using other tools (cognitive functions, socionics, enneagram, etc.)

As I’ve mentioned before on this blog, I’m very interested in various types of typology (mbti probably being the most popular and well known one), and while I consider all forms of typology to fall under pseudo psychology, I often use these tools to help me better understand my own characters better! I personally gravitate towards cognitive functions (which is not the same system as mbti, even though it uses the same letter system) as they help me put into words my character’s cognition, and enneagram, which describes behaviour and motivations that arise from a person’s upbringing and coping mechanisms. There’s other things you can take into consideration as well, like socionics, temperaments, attitudinal psyche, etc!

I’m not suggesting you use these as replacements for developing characters, but they can be great supplements when trying to dig deeper into your character’s psychology! I’d also argue that you get more out of putting these systems into use if you learn about typology and analyse your characters yourself instead of taking a test for them, but I’m also very biased in this regard, since I enjoy analysing my characters myself :,) And there are times where I’ll take a few tests to help solidify my breakdown if I’m having a difficult time labelling my character correctly. Honestly, just have fun with it!!

– Outro

Sorry for yet another lengthy post! And sorry it was a bit later than I’d anticipated, I had a much busier weekend than I thought I’d have, so I kept having to squeeze writing in anytime I had enough spare time to sit down, and then I stumbled across a series of health complications that I’m still trying to sort out. Which, speaking of, thank you so much to everyone who’s been wishing me good luck! I’m still working on figuring out what’s wrong, but I’m making progress!

As usual, my asks and messages are always open, so feel free to shoot me a message about anything! Even if I may be slower with my replies ^^; Thank you for reading! <3