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shuahoonie · 7 months

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unspoken words | jeon wonwoo

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo (svt) x fem!reader

notes: office!au (kinda?), fluff, suggestive jokes, swearing, idiots 2 lovers. alcohol consumption, jeonghan the matchmaker. the one where reader and wonwoo’s paths kept missing each other until they didn’t. loosely based on the song unspoken words by mxmtoon.

word count: 5.1k

summary: you and wonwoo always had a complicated relationship— no matter how hard you two tried, your lives had a funny way of getting intertwined.

and stubborn may you both be, wonwoo will always admit his feat when it comes to you.

part of the to x, with love mini series

shuahoonie's masterlist | to x, with love masterlist

“i never asked you to stay,” wonwoo muttered as you helped him clean up after the info session that your work had conducted for a group of students.

“this is ridiculous,” you sighed more so to yourself “there’s no way you could’ve done this by yourself.” you said while you held the blue recycling bin, gathering all of the leftover flyers and other papers that had writing on them. you also had a separate bin for the coffee lids and cup sleeves to put in the recycling as well.

“you could’ve just left,” wonwoo was watching you the entire time, making a mental note that you were serious about putting away your trash. “i know seokmin is waiting for you in the lobby.”

“it’s okay.” you replied, not even bothering to look him in the eye. instead, you gathered everything in a neat pile.

“you shouldn’t keep him waiting,” the words came out so harsh when he said it. even wonwoo was surprised, he wasn’t usually like this.

“he’ll be fine,” you said dismissively, not really in the mood to argue with him.

“yn,” wonwoo calls your name as if he hated doing it. “go.”

it took everything within you to stop yourself from yelling at him. “your anger will mean nothing,” seokmin’s words would ring in your ear. so you took a deep breath, dropped what you were doing and left without another word.

“oh, seok, i was ready to pounce him.” you grumbled, stabbing the lettuce on your salad a little too aggressively.

"what, like sexually?" seokmin realized it was a bad joke. the way you were practically throwing daggers at him made it painfully obvious that you were not in the mood to kid around. "i'm sorry, yn, but you really need to lighten up."

"if there's anyone who needs to lighten up, it's him," you argued, munching on your greens. "in fact, maybe i should light him up."

"i still don't understand how you two got off on the wrong foot," seokmin points out, hoping a proper explanation will emit from you.

you shrugged because you didn’t know what to tell your friend. the first time you properly met wonwoo was at your workplace. you even thought he was cute— quiet, had the nicest smile. your other coworkers were even raving about how polite and kind he was.

imagine your surprise when the ‘polite’ cutie from the editorial floor practically threw daggers at you as soon as you stepped into the office with the cerulean blue folders. this threw off wonwoo as he did the preparation for the meeting.

“in my defence, i saved both our asses when i replaced the folders during that important meeting with the new york office,” you grumbled.

unbeknownst to you, wonwoo kept a close track of your encounters. the first time wonwoo met you was through university.

you were the president of the school’s undergraduate publication journal and you were only in your second year. wonwoo was one of the new student recruits, he was a third year. he actually thought you were cute until you had assigned him to deal with international relations— wonwoo had applied for the editorial layout section. wonwoo was not happy.

you probably don’t remember him, wonwoo knew it. how could you? you were running around, trying to figure out the logistics, gather and have people review these submissions, edit and have it all printed before the next term starts. meanwhile, wonwoo was stuck somewhere, trying to solve things on his end. you only left notes on his work, you two barely met during meetings. you two had no direct contact.

once you were in your third year, you had to step down as president and become a casual editor instead. wonwoo became the publication journal’s president that year. you two still had no direct contact.

you unintentionally beat him for that librarian assistant position that wonwoo was gunning for as it'll boost his resume.

somehow, for wonwoo, you were always one step ahead of him and he doesn't like that one bit.

so the day you pranced into the office with your signature bright smile, wonwoo felt territorial over a place where he felt like he finally was one step ahead of you.

wonwoo didn't even like that seungcheol served you the last chocolate cake the day he stopped by at heaven's cloud cafe.

"how could you, cheol?" wonwoo huffed, his arms crossed, as cheol placed the iced americano and a slice of strawberry cake on wonwoo's table.

"it's just a slice, dude," seungcheol looked at him weirdly. "and you don't even like chocolate.”

“yeah, but i wanted a chocolate cake today.”

“jeon wonwoo, quit being weird and eat your cake,” jun comments as he appears behind seungcheol, dropping his things on the floor and sitting on the opposite of wonwoo.

while jun waits for his order to arrive, he worked on the monthly report that his boss has been pressuring him to do. as jun went on rambling about how much he hates his job, wonwoo is occupied with the idea of you. how you were always a step ahead of him.

from then, jeon wonwoo declared a one-sided competition against you.

your idea of jeon wonwoo was simple— he was the cute guy from the editorial team who hates your guts. why? surely, you don’t know.

one rainy afternoon, seokmin made sure to tell you that he won’t be able to give you a ride home, so he gave you the spare umbrella that he had.

“please be kind, ynnie, and let someone stand under your umbrella if they don’t have theirs,” seok reminded you.

“you know damn well i’m always kind,” you huffed with a pout— in which seok just gave you a pointed look before he handed you an umbrella and your lunch.

it seemed that your words had come to haunt you because here you were, walking under the rain using seok’s tiny umbrella, passing by wonwoo who was waiting in front of the office building— probably waiting for the rain to stop as he had no umbrella.

“he’d be waiting all night,” you thought to yourself. you had a long internal battle whether you’d just ignore him but seok’s words were ringing in your ear.

taking a deep breath, you asked “do you want to share an umbrella?”

wonwoo’s startled eyes looked at you and your umbrella. “i’m calling a cab,” he answered. wonwoo wasn’t exactly lying, he’s been trying to get one but the rain has made it extremely difficult to find one.

“well, you’d be calling all night. cabs are extremely hard to find especially at times like these,” you answered. wonwoo hated that you were right. again, always one step ahead of him. “subways are still running, do you want to walk together?”

wonwoo stared at you for what felt like an eternity before you rolled your eyes and pulled him under your umbrella. “we’re walking, stop overthinking it.”

you two were walking quietly in the rain. you’ve been coworkers for almost a year now and you can’t remember the time you and wonwoo had a proper conversation— one that you two didn’t end up bickering about senseless things. you didn’t even know why you two were always butting heads when you two were always working closely together.

as you tried to squeeze the two of you under seok’s tiny umbrella, you noticed that his shoulder was practically soaking wet. of all the umbrellas that he’d give you, he had to choose the tiniest one he owned. this prompted you to hover the umbrella more on his side, allowing the rain to soak your exposed shoulder instead.

wonwoo noticed how you moved the umbrella towards him, making him raise an eyebrow. you were wonwoo’s greatest puzzle— he can’t guess your next move and what’s worse is that you’re always one step ahead of him. “what are you doing?” he asked with furrowed brows.

you looked up at him, suddenly aware of how tall he is. no wonder your arms were getting tired from holding that damn umbrella up. “what do you mean?” you asked, confused by his question.

wonwoo grabbed the umbrella from you— your hands touching for a brief moment. you ignored whatever was forming in the pit of your stomach. maybe you’re just hungry? wonwoo hovered the umbrella closer to you, fully aware of the fact that his shoulder was getting wet from the rain. “you’re getting soaked,” wonwoo replied curtly.

“so are you,” you pointed out as you held the umbrella and tried to move it closer to him. however, wonwoo resisted it.

“i’m fine,” he says.

“whatever you say,” you huffed “it’s not like you intended to have annoyingly broad shoulders anyway,” you grumbled more to yourself, hoping he didn’t hear it. however, wonwoo heard your frustration over his shoulders and he couldn’t fight off the smile on his face.

it was the first time he could openly admit to himself that you made him smile. it was also the first time you caught him smiling.

“oh, how adorable,” mingyu grinned upon hearing the umbrella-sharing story from wonwoo. “and you said you weren’t one for office romances,” he teased earning a glare from wonwoo.

"because i'm not," wonwoo rolled his eyes "and i don't like her," he said almost defensively.

mingyu snorted "yeah, as if i haven't heard that line before." he said while setting up the living room for a movie night between him, wonu, jun, and chan. jun and ichan were running a little late as they were buying drinks.

"well, it's true," wonwoo crossed his arms "there's something about her that makes me feel like..." wonwoo trailed off, finding the right words to say.

"like?" mingyu sat on the couch, turning towards wonwoo— clearly invested.

"like... fuck, i don't know..."

mingyu lets out a dramatic gasp. "dude," he stares at wonwoo in complete awe. "you swore..."

"and?"

"you never swear unless you're completely frustrated," mingyu pointed out, a teasing look glimmering in his eyes. "you like yn, huh?!"

before wonwoo could even answer, mingyu's doorbell rang. saved by the bell, wonwoo thought.

"oh, this is not over, jeon wonwoo." mingyu said with a smirk, making wonwoo groan.

"seok, quit looking at me like that," you whined as you hugged the pillow tighter, placing your chin on top of the pillow.

"what?" seok grinned "it's nice to know that your beef with your coworker is slowly coming to an end."

"he was probably thinking how ridiculous i sounded for mentioning his shoulders," you grumbled. "why did i even mention his shoulders?!" you groaned.

seokmin couldn't help but laugh at how adorable you were being. "oh my sweet, ynnie," he cooed, ruffling your hair.

"here you go, yn," vernon said as he handed you a pint of ice cream. you were hosting a sleepover with seok, vern, and kwan. you three were waiting for seungkwan to arrive with the rest of the snacks.

you initially thought that you'd have the ice cream later but vernon thought that you might need it sooner than later. "thanks, nonie," you smiled at him.

"for what it's worth ynnie, he finally smiled at what you said." vernon said before taking a bite of his ice cream.

"and now yn is acting up because she thought he was cute," seokmin said teasingly, making vernon laugh.

wonwoo believes that the universe is out to get him. he kept complaining that you were always one step ahead of him and now, the universe is starting to retaliate.

"take yn," his manager tells him, making wonwoo clutch tighter on his notebook.

"sir?" wonwoo must be hearing things. there's no way that his manager actually asked him to take yn, right?

"take yn ln," his manager stresses your name. "didn't you two work on the last summit?"

"yes, but sir—"

"then it's final," his manager dismisses wonwoo "you two did a wonderful job with the last summit, i'd like you two to work on this year's professional development sessions."

"you two make a wonderful team," was the final thing that his manager said. without another word, wonwoo left the office feeling defeated. how can wonwoo be one step ahead of you if the universe is making him walk alongside you?

it was no surprise that wonwoo was everyone's office crush in the editorial department. people would often turn their heads whenever he walked by. this time was no exception.

the people on your floor knew the budding tension between you two. so when wonwoo was walking towards your desk with two coffees and a bag of dessert in hand, heads definitely turned and people were bound to talk.

"here," wonwoo hands you an iced americano and a bag of what you assumed was a slice of chocolate cake, catching you off-guard. your desk computer was showing the available job listings in the other departments. "are you thinking of transferring?" he asked as he leaned closer to your monitor— closer to you. his cologne was easily filling your nostrils. you hate that he smells good. how are you supposed to despise a man who smells good?! you thought. wow, the bar is literally on the floor.

"i'm keeping my options open," you answered as you crossed your arms, snapping yourself to reality. "it's not like you're making my life any easier here," you muttered the latter sentence, though you did hope that he heard it.

it's been a month since you and wonwoo started working on the company's professional development sessions. it's also been a month of torture. you've gotten frequent migraines that you started looking up if taking tylenol frequently will kill you. you didn't like the results.

wonwoo heard the latter sentence. while the month has been torture for you, wonwoo didn't mind your company at all. sure you were butting heads most of the time, but he noticed how much you were willing to compromise just to settle a conclusion between you two. wonwoo liked pushing your buttons. he found you cute even if you wanted to bite his head off.

"is this a peace offering?" you motioned to the coffee and the cake that was sitting on your desk.

"for what?" wonwoo smirked, playing coy. "you agreed to the after-session event, fair and square."

"bitch?!" you stared at him as if he's gone mad "if anything, you made it your life's mission to annoy me into agreeing that going to an escape room is what we need after overloading our brains from the sessions."

"yn ln, you know i can go to HR because you cursed at me, right?"

"jeon wonwoo, you know we're banned from that floor unless there's a serious allegation," you said, massaging your temples. "now humour me, what's with the coffee and cake?"

"oh, i stopped by at heaven's cloud café earlier and jeonghan practically insisted that you have these," wonwoo said casually, looking away.

you stared at him suspiciously, "thanks, i guess." you haven't spoken to jeonghan in a while since you've always been swamped with work. but maybe that's why you got free coffee and desserts?

before you could even ask wonwoo another question, he quickly left without even looking back at you. deciding to ignore it, you snapped a quick picture of the coffee and the cake, shooting jeonghan a quick text, "thanks for the coffee & cake, hannie! miss u! ♡"

"jeon wonwoo, is there a reason why yn sent me a text earlier, thanking me for the coffee and cake that i didn't give her?" jeonghan asked wonwoo, who was busy typing away on his laptop. wonwoo stopped at jeonghan's place after work as their other friends will be dropping by later as well.

"i don't know what you're talking about," wonwoo mumbled, not looking at han in the eye.

jeonghan was having none of it. "i'm texting yn that you gave those things to her," he threatened, pulling out his phone.

knowing jeonghan is probably going to commit to it, wonwoo sighed and threw his hands in defeat. "fine."

“and so the plot thickens,” jeonghan smirked, crossing his arms. “so is there a reason why?"

"she was having a rough day," wonwoo explained, closing his laptop. that report will be dealt with tomorrow. "i felt bad."

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at him. "i thought you didn't like her?"

"i don't."

"funny, because that's an odd way of expressing how you dislike her," jeonghan said, making wonwoo roll his eyes.

“i can at least recognize all the work she’s been doing in planning the pd session,” wonwoo replied, defensive.

jeonghan smirked because he knew. he knew that wonwoo was walking on a thin line. in fact, jeonghan was 100% sure that his friend has gone soft for you. “okay, whatever you say.”

“ynnie!” seungcheol calls your name as he spots you, busy choosing what kind of juice you are going to buy. you decided to stop by at the grocery to grab a couple of things for the fridge.

you gave him a small wave, smiling. seungcheol, however, was eager to give you a hug. you, cheol, and han shared a couple of classes back when you three were in university. you were always supportive of their endeavours that’s why cheol & han always had a soft spot for you— they considered you like a little sister that they always had to take care of.

“how was the cake from earlier? you know i’ve been taking a lot of baking lessons recently,” cheol said with a proud smile.

“oh, it was great, cheol!” you said sincerely “i sent jeonghan a text earlier, saying thanks.”

“thanks for what?”

“for the cake…?” you trailed off, a bit off-guard by the confusion plastered on seungcheol’s face.

“why would you thank jeonghan?” seungcheol asked, even more confused.

“jeonghan wasn’t there?”

cheol shook his head no. “unless jeonghan told wonwoo, but i assumed wonwoo bought it for you. i was teasing him about it too, since he doesn’t like chocolate that much.”

“ah,” was all you could say as you felt your cheeks burning, surprised by cheol’s sudden information. is that why jeonghan hasn't replied to your text at all?

cheol suddenly felt like he just triggered a bomb. oh, he fucked up. as if on cue, his phone started ringing. mingyu was calling. "okay, i'm heading off, ynnie."

you just nodded and waved goodbye, feeling confused. it was a good thing that you won't be seeing wonwoo during the weekend otherwise you would've gone mad.

heaven's cloud café was buzzing with people when you came in.

you spent a lot of time debating if you had to improvise how you would spend your sunday morning. you would usually stop by the heaven's cloud café and spend a good chunk of your time there— reading or chatting with jeonghan and seungcheol.

however, knowing that wonwoo might stop by at the cafe, it left you questioning if you wanted to derail your usual sunday routine.

and yet, your pride got the best of you. no matter how much you didn't want to see wonwoo, you weren't going to derail your sunday routine especially if it involved coffee.

although the café was usually busy on the weekends, today was unusually busy— you wondered if there was a special promotion taking place. jeonghan hasn't even acknowledged your presence yet as han is busy manning the till while also preparing the drinks. cheol is probably in the kitchen, preparing food.

you settled on the last empty table at the very back— dropping off your things, deciding to order a bit later once the line from the till calms down.

while you were busy scrolling on your phone, someone placed a tall glass of iced americano and a slice of strawberry cake on your table.

"you should try this, it's a house favourite," someone with a deep voice said. you looked up and saw jeon wonwoo with slightly messy hair, wearing your favourite black specs and a white button-up, smiling at you. fuck, he looks good. is hell officially frozen?

"are you perhaps a twin of jeon wonwoo?" you asked, completely boggled.

"yn, what the hell?" wonwoo laughs at your incredulous take, making you even more confused. why is this wonwoo variant laughing and smiling at you? most of all, why are they bringing you food when you haven't even ordered?! "what made you say that?"

you reached out your hand and poked his cheek, making him laugh. "are you really wonwoo from sector17 press?"

"yn, seriously, what makes you think that it's not me?"

"why are you so smiley all of a sudden," you cried, weirded out. "and why are you serving me food?"

"my, do you like it when i give you a hard time?" wonwoo said, teasingly "is that a kink of yours?"

"you're fucking weird, jeon wonwoo," you smacked his arm. "i've never met the weekend version of wonwoo and i don't think i like it," you cried quietly to yourself.

"cute," wonwoo says quietly, still smiling at you. "i'll talk to you later, okay? i'm helping cheol and han for the day and i feel like they'll beat my ass if they see me slacking off." wonwoo gently ruffled your hair and walked away, leaving you flabbergasted.

you felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. oh god, what the fuck just happened?

the friday night that jeonghan found out that wonwoo used jeonghan’s good name to protect his image, was the same night that seungcheol bumped into you at the grocery store.

drinks were getting passed rather at a rapid speed. for them, this night was a gem among other nights. most of jeonghan’s friends were at his place, enjoying the night away.

“ya, wonwoo,” cheol suddenly calls wonwoo, who was barely drinking— as per cheol’s opinion. “i thought tonight was the night that you were going to get loose.”

wonwoo chuckled, “i’m pacing myself.”

jeonghan snorted. “cheol, you’re talking to the guy who still cannot admit his high school crush on our ynnie.”

this earned a couple of laughs from the group, mainly from mingyu and jun.

“yoon jeonghan, just because you’re in a happy relationship—” wonwoo threw a balled up napkin at him, obviously not knowing how to reply.

“oh, wons, that reminds me…” cheol started rubbing the back of his head “i told yn that it was you who gave her the food and not jeonghan.”

as soon as the words left cheol’s mouth, it’s as if wonwoo felt annoyingly sober. he downed the tall shot of bacardi that was supposed to be mingyu’s shot.

“i don’t get why you’re tiptoeing around your feelings for her,” mingyu pointed out, filling the shot glass again. “it’s not like there’s a company policy against dating your coworkers.”

“isn’t there?” joshua asked. wonwoo shook his head no. “lucky bastard.” shua muttered, taking mingyu’s shot.

“you guys, what’s the point of doing rounds when you’re taking the shots as you please?” mingyu whines.

“i thought you didn’t like yn?” jun asked wonwoo, taking a bite of the kimchi jeon. “or is that like a weird defence mechanism against your feelings?”

"oh please," mingyu rolled his eyes "wonwoo had a huge crush on yn ever since our uni days," he pointed out, prompting wonwoo to hit him.

"weren't you two in like a school publication together?" jeonghan asked, taking the shot from mingyu.

"oh, right! you had like a one-sided beef with yn," jun's eyes lit up briefly, then proceeded to smirk at wonwoo, "ya! is that how you show your affection?"

"obviously not," cheol grins "our wonwoo is the type to show his affection through actions, not words."

"what are the chances that they'd end up working under the same company though," joshua commented with a fond smile.

"and in the same department too," jeonghan added.

wonwoo groans, before taking a shot, "i hate all of you."

"you two have a deep history, have you two never talked?" joshua asked, now invested.

wonwoo shakes his head, "we only talk about work."

"if they talk about work," mingyu laughs, "all they do is argue."

"how do you know all of this, gyu?" cheol asked in disbelief, laughing, "you work at a different company."

"i work with seokmin," mingyu replied "and seok likes to tell stories about yn."

"ya, didn't we invite him tonight?" cheol suddenly remembers, looking at his phone to check his message thread with seok.

"he's probably with yn," wonwoo muttered before taking another shot. this gets attention from the rest of the group— a series of teasing smirks and playful looks being exchanged.

like a kid on christmas morning, a bright smile appears on mingyu's face. "won, are you perhaps jealous?" he teased, with the new-found information.

wonwoo scoffed but didn't answer the question. wonwoo swore he wasn't the jealous type. but for some reason, he can't get over the fact that his friend was closer to you.

wonwoo knew that there was nothing going on with you and seok.

however, seok was your person, wonwoo would always think. you felt happier around seok. if wonwoo didn't know any better, he would assume that you liked seok. maybe she does, wonwoo can't help but think.

"you know they're just friends, right?" mingyu reminded wonwoo.

wonwoo doesn't say anything. he was just waiting for his friends to butt into the conversation. wonwoo's eyes caught jeonghan's. jeonghan smiles, that mischievous smile of his, leaving wonwoo confused.

"won, do you wanna know who she likes?" jeonghan instigates, leaning forward.

wonwoo waits, does he really wanna know?

jeonghan smiles, then says "you."

wonwoo didn't believe in signs— for him, every little decision a person makes is pulled by the desired outcome. however, you were his only exception.

"if ynnie stops by at the café on sunday, will you finally talk to her like civilized beings?" jeonghan's words rang loudly in wonwoo's ear.

"i don't believe in signs," wonwoo states simply.

"and you can't make an exception for yn?" jeonghan knew how to play the game. he's just waiting for wonwoo to swallow his pride and address his suppressed feelings.

"maybe." wonwoo answers, making jeonghan smile mischievously. and so, it begins, jeonghan thinks.

it was ridiculous— waiting for something to happen when he could've just started a conversation with you. but it's so hard when it's you. god, it's so hard for wonwoo when it's you because you make him feel things that he thought were only exaggerated by films.

wonwoo didn't know if jeonghan's revelation about you was a lie, but he'd be lying if he said that it didn't affect him— because it did. it felt like he was back in high school and he's not sure if that's something he liked.

jeonghan and seungcheol were very much aware of your routine. every now and then, you would visit the café every sunday— even during the morning rush. they were most definitely aware of what's waiting for you and wonwoo.

the two owners had tasked wonwoo to help with serving the orders as more people flooded the café. "make yourself useful while you wait for your girlfriend!" was all jeonghan said as he handed wonwoo an apron.

and so when you entered the café, wonwoo gathered all his strength to talk to you casually, even if it sent him through an overdrive.

while you were walking towards the washroom, you bumped into jeonghan who was grinning at you. you knew that man long enough to know that he's hiding something when he's smiling like that.

"ya," you pulled jeonghan to the side. "what are you hiding?"

"what do you mean?" han answers, blinking at you innocently.

"why is wonwoo being nice and smiley," you asked him with a huff, crossing your arms. wonwoo being smiley was something you didn't know would affect you this bad. "he's being too cute for my liking," you muttered the latter part.

jeonghan laughs at your dilemma. "isn't that what you wanted?"

"what do you mean—" you were confused with jeonghan's comment until it dawned on you. you remembered the time you went out for drinks with jeonghan and seungkwan. "yoon jeonghan!" you slapped his arm, making him yelp but he was still laughing.

"what?" he looks at you, acting confused as he rubs his arm. "i'm being supportive here!"

"you promised me you wouldn't tell him," you pouted.

"oh please, he was jealous of seok, i had to throw him something."

"so you told wonwoo about the time i got drunk with you and professed my undying feelings for him instead?!"

"no," jeonghan replies. his eyes moved past yours, looking past your shoulders, and smiled. "but i think you already did." jeonghan says, patting your shoulder before he left.

wonwoo was sitting across from you with a smile on his face. you've never seen this man smile at you this much, it was starting to freak you out.

"don't look at me like that," you grumbled, glaring at wonwoo.

"i can't help it," he looks at you almost tenderly. "you look adorable even when you're sulking like that."

you felt the familiar sensation in your stomach. how can jeon wonwoo just say things like these to you? does he not care about your well-being?! how you'd feel?

"that was a long time ago, by the way," you said in defence— as if the damage hadn't been done. wonwoo waits for you to continue your sentence. "you know, me having a crush on you," you continued, your tone getting quieter after each word.

"i'm sorry, what was that?" wonwoo leans closer, as if he didn't hear what you just said. you knew he was just teasing you as you noticed that he was trying to fight off a smirk.

"i don't like you, jeon wonwoo," you whispered, prompting wonwoo to only focus on your lips.

"that's too bad because," wonwoo paused briefly and leaned even more, "i like you."

his face was dangerously close to yours— wonwoo didn't care if half of his body was practically hovering over the table. he wanted to lean closer to you.

you felt frozen in your place. a part of you wanted to lean back and smack him, but there's also a part of you that just wanted to grab his stupid face and kiss it.

"ya!" jeonghan suddenly appeared beside your table "if you two are going to make out in my café, can you move to cheol's office? i'm planning to keep this place family-friendly," jeonghan snickered.

maybe you should just kiss wonwoo and smack jeonghan instead.

hello hello friends! i wrote this while i was sick in bed & was high on buckley's flu meds, so this is v cheesy. i hope you are all well & healthy! ♡

869 notes · View notes

vendetta-ari · 2 months

Note

Your fav anon is backkkkk! Hey Love! May I request a Vox (and you can include Lucifer too) x Artist (f!) reader headcannons? As I’ve said before, take your time! ♡ ♡

UGHH OH MY FUCKIN GOD IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG TO GET TO YOUR ASK BRO ILYSM ANON TYSM FOR YOU PATIENCE UR FRFR MY FAV ANON ♡♡♡

anyways, here Luci + Vox x artist reader

Lucifer

~ Lucifer and you always create and paint things together, he loves your creativity and he adores your art

~ You and Luci exchange ducks on special days, like valentine's day, Christmas, and birthdays.

~ You always exchange art tips with each other, bother being artists and your own unique ways.

~ Many times you have painted Lucifer's ducks for him when he's feeling down.

~ You two took a picture on your anniversary and you printed it out and painted it, he hangs it up on his wall and he always says its “The best thing I've ever, ever owned my dear!” he always gets all cheery and smiles when he sees it

~ You paint lucifers nails for him, last time you made a lil duck design on them

~ People can always tell when you two have been hanging out because the two of you are all giggly and smiling covered in paint

~ You painted a mural in his room, an apple using both his and your favorite colors

~ you give all your art pieces to Luci, you tried to sell one of them and the poor guy almost cried

~ he's basically drowning in your paintings and all your artwork, he doesn't mind at all though. although he is running out of space…

~ whatever he'll just expand his room to fit more of your work.

~ you have forced Lucifer to let you do makeup on him, he wasn't too happy but you laughed your ass off at his annoyance and makeup covered face

~ He cant stay mad at you for too long though, when your mad at luci you'll grab one of his ducks and paint them a different color completely and rub paint off some off his other ducks

~ when you finally calm down you repaint all for them with him though, as an apology.

~ the two of you often take walks through the rings of hell for inspiration

~ surprisingly, the screams of everyone being tortured is great to get those creative juices flowing

Vox

☆ Now let's be for real here guys, Vox can't draw for shit, so him being with an artist reader is kinda cute and unique and funny

☆ But you on the other hand, “your art is beautiful! n’ it should be hung up in a museum or something like that doll, I seriously dunno how you do it”

☆ During certain shows where they need sets, props, or anything related to that, you'll be the one painting them being the first to volunteer you totally didn't draw a dick kn one of the sets and embarrass him on live television pft- noo psh- hah why would you ever do such a thing? it must've been val!

☆ You couldn't keep your laughter when Vox drew that picture of Alastor when be was throwing his hissy fit on live television

☆ you redraw a picture of Alastor for Vox to tear up crumble and kick around as a stress reliever

☆ Vox realized that you drew a picture of Alastor, didn't matter what it was for you still drew him, just then he got angry again and demanded that you draw a picture of him

☆ just one more thing to stroke his ego I suppose

☆ You and velvette are besties, she often steals you away from Vox so you two can draw up outfits

☆ and he totally doesn't ever never get mad at her because of that

☆ You often draw in a red and blue journal Vox gave you as a gift once, it was in a whim but you still love it dearly

☆ you draw pictures of him and you together with little hearts around them, but vox doesn't need to know that

☆ but one time he did look through your journal, out of curiosity. trying to hide the blush that spread across his face, he grabbed a pen and wrote little messages on a few of your doodles "Didn't know she was that obsessed with me" he mumbled under his breath while flipping through the pages

☆ “We're gonna recreate this photo tomorrow, meet me at my office in 4:00 dollface” -Vox

☆ when you noticed the note you almost lost your mind fangirling over this TV man

☆So you did as you were told and met him at his office, getting there a little bit early

☆ And just like that he picked you up and carried you bridal style to his chair, kissing you softly all over, with you giggling and blushing, creating your drawing perfectly.

-xoxo, Ari

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #fluff #romantic #hazbin hotel romantic #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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khaire-traveler · 1 month

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🦚 Subtle Hera Worship 🐄

Star-gazing and cloud-watching

Making flower crowns

Wearing outfits that make you feel confident

Have a candle that reminds you of her (no altar needed)

Keeping a picture of her in your wallet

Wearing jewelry that reminds you of her

Wearing perfumes with bold yet sweet scents

Have a cow, peacock, or lioness stuffed animal

Having imagery of stars or lotus flowers around

Giving yourself compliments each day; pointing out one thing you like or love about yourself

Support women's rights or domestic abuse survivor organizations

Spend time with loved ones

Be kind to children; play them if offered

If you have a partner, send them a kind message or do something romantic together

Practice standing up for yourself; speak your mind and assert your personal boundaries

Do household chores; upkeep your living space

Take care of yourself emotionally and physically

Show support for any mothers in your life, especially new ones; help out when/if you can

Keep a self-love/self-care journal

Make yourself feel pretty/handsome/attractive; wear makeup, paint your nails, style your hair, wear your favorite outfits, etc.

Take a self-care bath or shower

Learn about astronomy; learn about the different myths behind constellations

Show compassion towards others, especially those who are hurting or in need

Showing compassion towards yourself, the same as you do for others

Prioritize your own well-being

Feed the local birds with bird seeds; bird-watching

Keep framed photos of loved ones; put photos of them on your wall, etc.

Eat pomegranate seeds

Have cow print items; own peacock feathers (been told these can be really cheap, actually!)

Give a kind gesture to a loved one; buying a gift, cooking a meal, baking pastries, etc.

Collect gold-colored items; golden ram horns are also a great symbol (maybe draw or paint this, since it's pretty niche)

Buy a bouquet of white flowers, whether for yourself or a loved one

Add honey to your tea, coffee, or other drink; a good drink to try is warm milk with honey and cinnamon mixed in (better than it sounds)

Start a skin/body care routine

I may add more down the line! For now, here's my list of discreet ways to worship Hera. Hope it helps, and take care! 🩵

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #hera deity #hera worship #deity worship #paganblr #pagan tips

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month

Note

It would be awesome if you could recommend some solo ttrpgs! I've been getting into them a lot lately and want to know more of what's out there. Especially journalling ones, as I enjoy creative writing. So far I've looked into (and will probably buy soon) Firelights, Apawthecaria, and Fox Curio's Floating Bookshop.

Also, I love this blog a ton. Already there have been some awesome games I've learned about from you, including the one you're currently working on. Excited to give it a try sometime! Keep being amazing 💜.

Theme: Solo Journalling Games

Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm certainly excited to run Protect the Child for folks, play-testing it so far has been really fun!

As for your ask, solo games and journalling go hand in hand. These next few games are just a sampling of what I've added recently to my Solo Games folder on Itch.

Cats Know Things, by Mushroom Witch Games.

CATS KNOW THINGS is a light-hearted game meant to tell a humorous story of intrigue, all while pretending to be a very nosy cat.

But you are no ordinary cat.

You are a very special feline who, through some magic you cannot explain, can communicate with your human, an individual who wishes to make their mark in society by any means necessary. The two of you decide to start a society page, (a very fancy type of tabloid newspaper dedicated to a particular location) revealing the glitz, glamour, and inner turmoil of the town’s most notable individuals.

Use a d6 and a d10 to generate numbers, and sneak into places to listen into secret or private conversations. Then bring this news to your human companion, so that they may relay this gossip in the local society page. You need to find 6-8 scintillating stories before the week is up, so that your human has enough to print.

If you want a game full of scandal and cute furry little rumour-mongers, this might be the game for you!

Lingering, by Meghan Cross.

The last thing you remember, you were dying.

Now, breath fills your lungs once more and your eyes open, slowly shifting side to side as you attempt to regain your bearings. You are alive. But you are…changed. Your human form is gone, and in its place is one that is different, foreign, animal…

In Lingering, you play as a person who has died, only to find yourself alive again in an animal form, unable to move on to your eternal rest until you settle business left unsettled from your life.

Throughout the course of a game, you will make several attempts to communicate with a chosen human, hoping to convey a message to them so they can assist you and help you move on once and for all.

This game uses a deck of cards and some guiding adjectives to determine how your attempts at communication will go. Over eight rounds, you’ll flip cards while guessing as to whether each card will be higher or lower than the previous one, and a successful guess means a successful interaction. The details of those attempts are what you’ll be journalling, and Lingering provides a number of questions that you might try to answer with each attempt.

This game takes place over eight rounds, so it’s excellent if you want a short, contained game. It also has a two-player option if you want to try this game out with a loved one.

Dragon Dowser, by HatchlingDM.

Dragon Dowser is a solo journaling RPG using the Carta SRD by Peach Garden Games. You play a mysterious character known as a 'Dowser'. Your aim is to locate abandoned dragon eggs and return them to your Sanctuary. If you succeed before expending your resources, the hatchling you rescue will be reared to change the kingdom forever!

This is a lovingly crafted game that uses card suits to represent four different kinds of ways your character will be tested, as they interact with different cultures, explore new landscapes, and dea with various conflicts, both human and nature-made.

You’ll travel across a grid of cards that provide you with journaling prompts as you travel. You’ll expend resources to overcome obstacles, looking for a dragon egg, represented by an Ace! Once you return this egg to a sanctuary, you’ll journal about your experience of raising the hatchling. Based on the games you’ve mentioned so far, I think Dragon Dowser is right up your alley.

EDEN, by blasez-faire.

You are Judaiah Clark, the Head Botanical Researcher at the Southern Sector of Eden. You are here for exactly 10 days, and were a last minute choice after the sudden disappearance of ■■■■■■ ■■■■■, the last person to hold this position. You are not here for work. Investigate.

EDEN is a single-page game that takes place over the course of 10 in-game days, with two questions that you will have to answer in your journal for every day. You are expected to write up a report with detailed notes, so much of the extrapolation taken from each pair of questions is going to come from your own imagination. To help with this you might want to come up with names for other characters, draw a map of the Southern Sector, or go into detail about the plants that this research station grows.

One thing is for sure - this is going to be a horror story. If you like games that give you a lot of room to stretch your creative wings, and you also like writing terrible endings for your characters, you might like this game.

Black Mountain Numbers Station, by Simon de Vet.

You wake one morning to the sound of a voice on the radio reading a series of numbers. On impulse, you jot them down. These numbers will become your life.

Black Mountain Numbers Station is a one-page, solo-journaling game about a mysterious broadcast, and about finding patterns in randomness. Using a unique dice mechanic to prompt you to describe your journey, you will tell a short story of obsession, frustration, and discovery.

This game is uses a 6x6 grid with boxes that you’ll need to fill when you roll a pair of dice. You’ll trigger evens when you roll doubles or find a certain pattern on the grid as you fill it, and in both of these cases, you’ll write special journal entries. The game ends when you fill your Frustration track, which symbolizes listening for too long without learning anything new. What exactly you learn, however, is up to you.

Bound, by K Ramstack.

Bound is a single player setting agnostic game about the connection between two people as they travel to a destination through the destruction of the world on a journey they will most likely not complete.

You will create two characters, their relationship to one another, the destruction that haunts them, and the motive for them to move forward.

During the game, you will be asked to write scenes in first person, switching perspectives between characters, and using their personality traits and subjective conceptualizations of each other to answer prompts.

Bound has a single and two-player version, and uses two decks of playing cards, one for each character. Each card will relate to a prompt on the prompt table, but only the highest ranked prompt will be answered. Each prompt will ask a question about the relationship, and how it changes.

If you want a deeply emotional game with a beautiful layout and lovely art, this is the game for you.

The Narrator Paradox, by psychound.

The Narrator Paradox is a one page solo-narrating game where you try to tell a story … if your protagonist will let you. In it, you determine the five acts of your story based on an oracle, then make rolls for your plot beats to see if you can wrangle your protagonist into the prescribed narrative. If you can't, they defy you and take the story into their own hands. Wrestle the story into shape against a rebellious hero, or lose them forever and have to finish the story without them in it.

Using the Major Arcana of a tarot deck, two six-sided dice and a coin, The Narrator Paradox has a number of different ways that you’ll try to keep your story on track. However, with so much randomness, your protagonist is sure to have a mind of their own. This feels very much in tune with how many writers talk about their characters as if those characters have their own desires, so if you’ve ever related to that you might enjoy this game.

Also Check Out...

My Solo Games tag! I use this tag for every recommendation post specifically for solo games.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #solo games

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sheep-and-lykos · 7 months

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Arthur Morgan - NSFW Alphabet Day 1: Aftercare

Oh boy do i have my work cut out for me :o)

Arthur is always sure to be careful with you. You both live dangerous lives; on the run from the law, not knowing who exactly to trust in the wild west, doing your best to stay alive especially when you have to scrap by on pennies and nickels. Arthur loves to treat you well, he believed with his heart and soul that you deserve everything he can do for you. He always wants to make sure that you’re comfortable, before, during and definitely after. You both get up to some special things in your tents - and on the rare occasions a room - that others may see it as an act against whatever God they believe in.

He makes sure that you’re spent, your arousal slick and sliding down your legs with his semen. He loves knowing that you get off on him and him alone, loving the words that spill from your mouth and how you praise him the entire time. He always makes sure to clean you up; however, sometimes it won’t be as nice as a clean rag dunked in cool water. On more than one occasion it had to have been a bandana, a not-so clean rag, one time even an undershirt from his wardrobe as he insisted on doing it.

He loves to place kisses on your thighs and on your lower stomach when he cleans you. You can’t count how many times he would leave gentle bite marks and light bruises on your soft skin, he loves it when you squirm a big under him as he sucks a new mark into your inner thigh.

He’s a gentleman, learning how to properly love with you after the mess that Mary left him in. He never thought someone would fall in love with him the way he did with her. He didn’t believe it at first; The lasting glances towards him, how you offered multiple times to help him out whether it would be to town or around the camp, the lingering touches. The first time you both had spent together was soft and gentle, Arthur insisting that you both do it in a soft and warm bed.

When you’re drifting off, Arthur stays up. He looks at you, eyes roaming over your peaceful face, thinking to himself about how lucky he is that he found love again. You would often wake up in the middle of your sleep to see him sitting up in the bed, his eyes closed and his journal starting to fall out of his hand, a drawing of you freshly printed in the pages.

You’ve seen more than just innocent drawings of you in that journal of his.

Arthur rolled off of you, catching himself on the floor of the tent and propped himself up onto his side. He panted softly to himself, brushing the hair out of his face and wiped the sweat that was beading at his hairline. He looked down at you to see you were already looking back at him, panting softly just like him. His brilliant green eyes met yours, his chest swelled with warmth, his heart was fluttering.

“I love you,” you murmured to him.

Arthur couldn’t help the smile that spread across his cheeks.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

You had started to sit up in the bedroll when Arthur stopped you, placing a gentle hand on your abdomen and pushed you back down on the bedroll softly.

“Arthur-”

“Don’t get up just yet,” he cut you off.

Arthur hoisted himself up and poked his head out of the tent for a second, eyeing up the gorgeous horizon for anyone who was around before he stepped out completely buck naked. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but you could hear him rummage through a bag right outside of the tent and dunk something into the small bucket of water he’s going to shave at later today. He reemerged in the tent, a clean white cloth was held in his hand. It was still dripping with cool water despite it being wrung out.

Arthur knelt down between your legs, nudging them open again with his knees. He grasped onto one of your legs and pulled it up, resting your knee onto his broad shoulder before doing the same with your other leg.

You flinched when the cold, wet cloth was pressed against your heated womanhood. You quickly fell apart as Arthur gently cleaned at your sensitive skin, wiping away the semen that had trailed down to the bedroll below you and the spent arousal that made your inner thighs sticky. He spent more time cleaning there, gently rubbing at your soft skin before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the area. You exhaled blissfully when the scruff on his chin scratched deliciously at your inner thighs, your hands grabbing at the bedroll, nails digging in to the soft materials. You felt Athur grin against your delicate skin before pressing his lips against your thigh again.

He leaned down a little more, strong hands keeping your legs over his shoulder as he pressed harder kisses so close to your womanhood. You moaned softly, eyes rolling back at the sensational scratch of his stubble and the way he started to leave marks on your skin once again. You suddenly gasped, back arching when Arthur’s teeth got a hold of your skin, biting down and sinking in, surely to leave a big bruise in the coming hours. Feeling as though he was giving too much attention to one thigh, Arthur turned his head and start to kiss at the other, placing wet kiss and trailing bites along the sensitive flesh, the wet rag forgotten on the bedroll beneath you both.

It felt amazing; his body heat so close to your womanhood again, the scratch of his coming beard, the prickly pain of his bites, the sweetness of his kisses. Your head was swimming, your body felt so light and weightless yet limp and fragile. One of your hands came to rest on the back of Arthur’s head, fingers carding into his sandy blond hair, your nails scratched lightly at his scalp. Arthur groaned softly beneath you, kissing at your salty skin still.

He broke from your parted legs to look at you, his beautiful green eyes glazed over with lust and primal hunger once again. You barely had a moment to register what was going to happen when he dove his head back down to between your legs, his tongue parting you open as you let out a lewd moan.

#arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2

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way2pretty4this · 8 months

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Study Skills

Start studying a week before every quiz and/or test. This sounds tedious, and it can be, but it will help you gradually soak in the information until it temporarily becomes part of you. (If it's just a memorization thing with 20 terms or less you can start studying a couple days before the test instead)

Watch Youtube videos about the topic you are studying. This is one of the most helpful tips I think I've ever gotten from anyone (it came from my dad in 7th grade). Your professors teach you so much, and they cover a lot of it, but when it's in a text book its hard to focus on and remember, if you watch it in a cute little animated video you are much more likely to remember it. Also they might cover stuff that isn't in your text book and that way if it shows up on a test you're not caught off guard, or worst case scenario you just get a little more knowledge that someone will find interesting someday.

Get tons of sleep. Sleeping may be one of the most important things you can do for yourself. It helps you process the day's events, the things you learned, and the memorization terms you're working on. Also, if you read through your notes right before you go to bed they will be fresh in your mind - for some reason this really helps, especially the night before an exam.

This one goes hand in hand with number 2, but don't just read what your professor gives you. Find books, journals, academic blogs, etc. that address the subject you're working on. Again, either you'll be more prepared for the test later, or you'll have extra information to impress you classmates and teachers.

Write out your notes. I'm not sure if this works for everybody, but personally I think there's something about writing out my notes versus typing them that makes it a little more personal and a memorable.

Exercise! I love this tip because I hate studying. If you spend an hour working through your text book and running memorization tactics it's so refreshing to go for even just a 20 minute walk to clear your head. During this walk you should purposely avoid thinking about your school work.

Don't always study in comfy clothes. Feeling comfortable in your clothes is important, but if all you plan on doing is studying for a day, for at least part of it you should get dressed up. Put on a nice outfit and do your hair. Something that says "I'm going to get straight - A's and I'm gonna look hot doing it". Think Elle Woods.

Test your ability to teach. Try explaining the material to your friend, or if you don't have any, talk to your pet. If you don't have one of those either, then take a video and talk to yourself. If you're able to clearly explain the unit/chapter to somebody who's never even heard of the topic thats when you know you're getting somewhere. If your explanation leaves you or your subject feeling confused, then get back to the books.

ELIMINATE DISTRACTIONS. This is so hard for me but the best way to do this is to turn up the music and move the electronics. If you don't need your computer for your review work, don't have it in the room. You definitely don't need your phone, so connect your airpods and leave it next door. For me I have a lock box and I put any devices I don't need in the box. Then I take the box to a different room in my house and leave it there. Preferably with a friend or family member to stop me from taking my phone out.

Lastly you need to know that the way you ace your tests is by learning every single piece of information down the spelling of the words. You should know your notes or flashcards by heart and if someone asks you about your topic while you're away from your notes you should be able to answer them thoroughly and accurately. One way you can do this is to rewrite your notes, and not in the like print over and over way, but get a separate notebook and try rewriting your notes in new words. Almost as if you're trying to write a paper from a cite without getting copyrighted.

I'm not sure if I said it before, but these are tips that have worked for me. If they don't work for you that's okay but I would encourage you to try them out. Take a deep breathe and get to studying.

♡ You got this! ♡

#self development #stay focused #discipline #self healing #self love #self improvement #self growth #self care #mindset #self help #study motivation #study help #study hard

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marquezian · 2 months

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‘Some PRs won’t be happy until MotoGP is just a corporate event, stripped of its beauty and soul’

(OP Note: Mat Oxley has a new article out about his battle with KTM's PR but its behind a paywall so I grabbed it since it's a great read! here's the original link)

The MotoGP paddock can be a battlefield between PRs and journalists, who have opposing goals. Once again Mat Oxley has a MotoGP PR machine coming after him and this time the fallout is gloriously entertaining

A couple of years ago I had a disagreement with the PR people from a MotoGP team who tried to stop me doing my job.

I wrote a blog about it. Because a journalist’s only power comes from his or her laptop. If we don’t tell these people to back off, pretty soon there’ll be no point in journalists attending races, so you’ll all just have to enjoy the PR releases instead.

Also, these stories offer fans an interesting insight into the weird and occasionally wonderful dynamics of a journalist’s life in the paddock.

Even better, this latest story is hilarious in its craziness. The team’s PR machine started out complaining that I hadn’t used a certain word in my story (even though I had), while banning their engineers from using that word.

Freaking weird.

It seems like PRs like these won’t be happy until MotoGP is no more than a soulless corporate marketing event, stripped of all its joy and beauty, existing purely to sell you stuff, with a bit of motorbike racing on the side. Just like Formula 1.

Most MotoGP PRs do a great job. They arrange interviews and generally help us to write about MotoGP. Back when I started, in the late 1980s, the only way to talk to a rider was to go knocking on his motorhome door. Or his tent.

Now some PRs behave like we’re there to help them do their job (flog product), rather than the other way around. If any PRs are in doubt about this, the clue is in their job title: PR, for press/public relations.

I still love MotoGP for the racing and technology, and I enjoy talking to the world’s greatest riders and engineers, but the layers of PR bullshit grow thicker and stickier each season.

Clashes between journalists and PRs are inevitable, because they have contradicting objectives. Journos want to dig into what’s going on, while a PR’s job is to protect the brand. Truth isn’t their number-one priority.

Like George Orwell wrote, “Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed. Everything else is public relations”.

The world’s first PR person was American Edward Bernays, who during World War I was hired by the US government to sell the idea of the country entering the war, when most Americans weren’t keen. He was so successful that he set up the world’s first PR agency after the war.

Among his numerous corporate gigs, Bernays was employed by the US tobacco industry to get women smoking, because at that time few women smoked. He consulted a Freudian psychoanalyst and promoted cigarettes to women as ‘torches of freedom’. This campaign was another big success.

Bernays’ work spawned a global PR industry that now works in every sphere of human endeavour.

Press relations – as Bernays proved – is a psychological game: you tell journalists selective truths, giving them information you want them to have, while hiding information you don’t want them to have. You cultivate friendships with journalists, because if they like you, they just may be nicer to your brand. And you stay friends, even if you hate their guts, because that’s a game.

Also useful is the possession of a vague idea of how journalism works. That’s why some of the best PRs are former journalists, who swapped sides to make more money. “Journalism is more fun,” one journo-turned-PR told me. “But PR is much more lucrative.”

The Red Bull KTM team is one of MotoGP’s best – hugely dedicated, massively hardworking and well looked after by its management. It enjoys possibly the best morale of any factory team. There’s always a buzz in the KTM garage – the mechanics really enjoy what they do and usually give a friendly nod when you walk down pit lane.

Its riders Brad Binder and Jack Miller are great to talk to and its engineers are generous with their time when you want a quick chat behind the garages. And I’ve had some great interviews with motor sport director Pit Beirer, engine designer Kurt Trieb, technical director Sebastian Risse, crew chief Paul Trevathan and others.

I last interviewed Risse (whose nickname in the team, which includes several Sebastians, is Clever Seb) during last November’s Malaysian GP.

The full interview was published on this site a while back, running to more than 2200 words. The print magazines I work for – in Europe, the USA, Australia and Japan – are more restricted on space, so I had just 500 words to cover each manufacturer, including rider and engineer quotes.

If an editor says he or she wants 500 words, you write 500 words, not 499 or 501. Magazine writing has to be tight, with quotes edited for clarity and brevity. I’ve been doing this for more than forty years, so I think I have the general idea.

PRs who try to control me by telling me what to write is like me walking into the KTM garage and telling the mechanics how to tighten the RC16’s brake bolts. I’d rightly get a slap.

And yet a KTM PR thought it a good idea to tell me how to do my job. This PR accused me of making “misquotations” in my magazine story and asked me to contact my editors, so they could make “the necessary corrections to reflect what was said accurately”.

At first, I thought it was a joke because I still have the tapes and transcripts of the interviews.

But I take the attack seriously. KTM asked these magazines to correct my text. I have no contracts with any of the magazines that publish my stuff, so I’m only ever as good as my last story. And why would an editor want to employ a journo who changes quotes to alter their meaning? Because that’s a serious crime in this job.

The attack seemed especially perverse because my story was very complimentary about KTM’s MotoGP project – “It’s a fantastic motorcycle to ride,” said Miller

To make sure I wasn’t being wrongheaded, I forwarded KTM’s email to two renowned MotoGP journalists, who between them have covered the championship for eighty years.

“I can’t understand what the complaints are about,” wrote Michael Scott, the doyen of MotoGP journalists, who started covering GPs in the early 1980s. “It is a journalist’s job to edit comments for brevity and comprehensibility. However, if someone is going to nitpick about exact wording, you either have to adopt the approach of [a former MotoGP journalist] and publish every ‘um’ and ‘er’ and every half-finished sentence and end up with overlong garble, or report in indirect speech, to preserve clarity and ensure brevity. They are nitpicking because they are nits.”

Sounds like a carpet stroller trying justify their existence,” wrote my other colleague, who covered his first GP around the same time. “It’s astounding, just mindless nitpicking. The really baffling thing is that the context of your story is 500 words of positivity about how KTM are tech trendsetters!”

I would’ve published the rest of this email, but it was way too rude.

I even contacted Britain’s National Union of Journalists to ask its opinion. “I can’t see anything that changed the meaning,” replied an NUJ advisor.

So why is KTM so mad at me?

The first complaint concerned my magazine headline and subsequent discussion about the RC16’s carbon-fibre frame.

(Italics denote their words.)

“We note that in the headline you included ‘CARBON’ whereas in the text itself you’ve removed this and kept it to just ‘frame’.”

A quick read of the story – below – reveals that the word ‘carbon’ did indeed appear within the story. Twice. Whatever they’re smoking is making them paranoid and confused. And a bit sleepy too.

Next, KTM complained about this.

“We are convinced that sooner or later everyone will have carbon frames,” says Risse.

This sentence was edited for clarity from the original, “We are convinced that sooner or later everyone will end up on this”. This was Risse’s answer to my eighth consecutive question about the RC16’s carbon-fibre frame, so there was no doubt that “this” referred to carbon frames, so the meaning hasn’t been changed.

Their last complaint concerned this Miller quote…

“We’ve been able to find more grip with the carbon-fibre frame, so the thing I’ve been working on is understanding the front end to carry more corner speed.”

This quote was subbed for clarity and brevity, from 49 words to 28. Cutting text is a major part of a journalist’s job – in fact it often takes longer to edit a story down to the required word count than to write the first draft.

This was Miller’s full quote…

“We’ve been able to find quite a bit more grip with the new chassis, so that’s the biggest thing we were trying to chase and we’ve got some steps coming to keep improving that and trying to understand the front end a bit more, to carry some corner speed.”

Again, both quotes say the same thing: the new frame gives more grip, but we need to find more corner speed.

What the PRs would’ve liked me to write was something like this, to signal each of my edits to the reader…

Risse, “We are convinced that sooner or later everyone will end up on [have] this [carbon-fibre frame technology]”.

And…

Miller, “We’ve been able to find [quite a bit] more grip with the new [carbon-fibre] chassis [sic, the swingarm was already carbon-fibre], so [that’s the biggest thing we were trying to chase and we’ve got some steps coming to keep improving that] and [Ed: what he’s been working on is] trying to understand the front end a bit more, to carry some corner speed.”

There’s a reason you never read quotes like this: because they’re ugly to read, they make the speaker sound ridiculous and they use twice the space, so the story would contain half the information.

This is why I don’t like PR people telling me how to be a journalist.

As already noted, the story praised KTM’s valiant attempts to beat Ducati. Perhaps its PR geniuses would’ve been happier if I’d more accurately reflected KTM’s recent efforts in MotoGP and written this instead…

Despite massive investment from KTM and Red Bull, working with Red Bull Advanced Technologies (arguably the world’s foremost motor sport aerodynamicists), having one of the best riders on the grid and taking some of the key brains from MotoGP dominators Ducati and Öhlins, KTM is the only manufacturer not to have won a single dry-weather grand prix in almost three years, since June 2021. Even Honda and Suzuki have won more dry GPs in that period.’

During the Sepang tests I had a lively, er, conversation with KTM, in the hope they’d realise their accusations were false. The PR doubled down, so I suggested KTM sues me, so we could go to court and let the experts decide. My offer was declined.

When I got home from Sepang I contacted the magazines that had published the story, because KTM wanted them to make corrections, where possible.

And this is when things got really funny.

The first of my editors that contacted KTM’s PRs told them he had reviewed the transcripts and story and saw no need for any corrections. It provoked this response from KTM’s motor sport PR chief.

“To be clear on this – nobody from KTM clarified that the new chassis was a carbon fibre chassis in 2023 and we were surprised and disappointed to read it as a quote from an official KTM spokesperson.”

So that’s it! KTM engineers weren’t allowed to use the term carbon-fibre to describe the RC16’s new frame, even though everyone was talking about it.

Risse and I spent more than three minutes talking specifically about the carbon frame. He went into some detail describing how it improved the bike but couldn’t actually say carbon-fibre.

How wild is that?!

KTM’s PR wonks had gone wonky – they were in a terminal tank-slapper, triggered by diametrically opposing brainwaves.

What I would’ve given to be sat in that PR/marketing meeting…

“Ladies and gentlemen, our genius MotoGP engineers have designed a genius new frame, so our genius marketing plan is to ban our genius engineers from mentioning their genius creation to anyone. Even though everyone already knows about it.”

“Dude, you’re a marketing genius!”

High-fives all round.

I assume that following this great meeting of the minds the KTM PR team gave KTM’s actual chief MotoGP engineer a bollocking for not telling me that the carbon-fibre frame didn’t exist.

Talk about the tail trying to wag the dog.

And now the crowning glory to this comedy wild-goose chase.

A few weeks after my chat with Risse, another journalist interviewed Risse and he did say the word that should not be said. (I wonder if the crack PRs returned to the office of their actual chief engineer to give him another bollocking.)

So, the PR boss was being economical with the truth when he told me that, “nobody from KTM clarified that the new chassis was a carbon fibre chassis in 2023”.

These people have their knickers in such a twist that I wonder how they get out of bed in the morning.

One last thought: a PR’s job isn’t only to establish good relations with journalists, it’s their job to promote MotoGP to a wider audience.

Considering that motorcycle racing is currently the world’s 30th most popular sport (after horse dressage!), I believe these PRs would be better spending their time trying to grow the sport – by getting stories in mainstream magazines and so on – instead of chasing after journalists for petty nothings.

Finally, I’d like to wish Red Bull KTM all the best for the 2024 season. They’re a great bunch of people (mostly) and I’d love to see them winning GPs again.

#motogp #*#*article #i love PR insights its like cocaine to me

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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5 Steps to Get Your Novel Ready to Self-Publish

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Kindle Direct Publishing, a 2022 NaNo sponsor, helps you self-publish eBooks and paperbacks for free. Today, author Denise Grover Swank shares some tips to help you get your novel ready to publish:

Congrats on completing NaNoWriMo! I completed my first book with NaNoWriMo in 2009, and was thrilled when I’d finished, but I wasn’t ready to hit publish just yet!

1. Have someone else read your novel.

Every book needs revising and editing. Trust me, I’ve written over seventy books at this point and still need to revise books.

You’ll either need to find a developmental editor or alpha readers. Alpha readers—well-read readers and/or other authors—are great for writers on a budget and are usually free. You can find them in writers’ groups or your friends who are readers. Just be careful if you’re using friends and family: they’re going to be biased. (Unless they’re my aunt who read my paranormal thriller and told me I should write children’s books.)

2. Invest in copy editing.

You’ve revised and edited your book, now what? Copy editing is where you may want to invest if you can. Copy editors look at your book line by line and correct grammatical mistakes. Please, please, please don’t try to do this yourself. You’ve read you book countless times and will miss things. Trust me. I know. (If you need a proofreader, here’s where your friends who can spot a typo a mile away come in handy.)

3. Get a good cover.

Let’s talk covers! Study the market and find out what’s selling in your genre, then find a cover designer who fits the trends. You can spend anywhere from $100 to $1000 or more, but you can get by on the lower end. Just don’t try to make one yourself unless you’re really good at graphic design.

4. Get the formatting right.

You’re almost ready to publish, but first you need to format your eBook and print book—You can do this by using the free templates available on Kindle Direct Publishing, you can pay someone to do it, or there are several programs less than $200 that will do this for you.

5. Now you’re ready!

There are multiple places to publish, but KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) is super easy to use! Be sure to claim your books on Amazon Author Central, create an author page, then ask readers to follow you. Amazon will let your readers know about preorders and releases. Kindle Unlimited is great for newer authors who are still finding an audience, and readers in KU are more willing to take a chance on new-to-them authors. And finally, use the gifting option on your product page for giveaways on social media. Readers who love your book will tell their friends—never underestimate word of mouth marketing!

New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Denise Grover Swank lives in Kansas City, Missouri. You can find out more about Denise at www.denisegroverswank.com.

Top photo by Nong V on Unsplash.

#nanowrimo #writing #publishing #self-publishing #now what #by nano sponsor #kdp #kindle direct publishing #denise grover swank

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snek-panini · 7 months

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It's been a few weeks since I had new books to share, but I finally got photos taken of the newest ones so today's the day. Here, have a book:

This is Across Tides and Currents, a Good Omens siren AU by Sodium_Azide and @doorwaytoparadise (hi. I hope I tagged you right). My favorite thing about this AU is that, at its heart, it's about learning to communicate with someone who is so different from you that you can't even physically speak each other's language, and yet you've still got so much common ground that you find a way. It's way lighter and more fun than that description makes it sound, though, so go read it if that's your thing.

The cover on this is Lineco book cloth, scrapbook paper printed to look like leather, and blue foil htv. The foil was actually a nightmare to do. The first time I applied it, it wouldn't stick no matter what I did, and the bits that did stick peeled off as soon as I touched them. I had to peel them up very carefully, cut a new image, and try again. Thankfully it worked the second time but I don't know that I'll be using the foil type again unless there's no other way to get the color I want. The non-foil metallic was so much easier to work with.

More book photos under the cut!

I went with a coptic bind for this one for a few reasons. The first was that I wanted to try one on a quarto-size book to see if I could. I also wanted to try the mitered corners thing I did when I bound Strange Moons, and see if I could have the same effect on the interior. (That bit didn't work out so well; the front is fine but I mismeasured the inside and the lines didn't match up, so I trimmed some pieces of cardstock to cover that up. I really like the layered look though, so that's fine. It's quirky.) The third reason is that not long before I decided to bind this one, the authors published a new chapter after two years of no updates. That's the best possible reason to have to change plans, and the glueless bind means that if they ever do that again I can just redo the stitching to add more pages. Win-win.

Getting whimsical with title pages here. This took way longer than I thought it would, probably because I don't like graphic design and I did it in Word where I do the rest of my typesetting. Usually what I do is grab an image and put text around it or on top of it and then just play with fonts and sizes, but this time I drew the lines and then made the text follow them. This is the first time I've used the word art feature since...probably 2009? I'd forgotten how. I have no doubt there are better ways to do this but if I'd had to learn a new program at that point I'd have quit. And I do think it was worth it--it's cute and fun and looks about how I imagined it.

Couple of photos of the inside. Sorry the first one's blurry, I had someone trying to get my attention when I took these. The section break image came from rawpixel, I just made it gray instead of black so it's more subtle. The fic has very nice illustrations that I specifically got the artist's permission to print and then I failed to get any photos of them when I did my little photo shoot. They look very nice, though. I swear.

The last image is something I've started including in my latest books. I'm calling them "A Note from the Bookbinder" and it's basically just me talking about why I chose that story, the experience of reading it for the first time, stuff that's going on in the fandom, stuff about the process like the new chapter coming out as I was preparing to print. It's kind of...like marginalia? Part of fanbinding is preservation and that's linked to archival work, and something I know archivists love is marginalia and diaries. I don't like writing in my books and I've never found any fun in journaling, but sometimes that kind of context is important so I'm trying to add it. Someday, decades from now, I may not remember all the details, so I'm trying to preserve them. IDK, this got philosophical on me. Go read about mermaids now. Promise it's a good time.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #i wanted to do this as a mermay project #that did not happen #i finished it in october #happy mertober

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p-artsypants · 4 months

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Paint it Black (14) Investigating

Ao3 | FF.net

“Chief Anderson Duffy speaking,” said the voice through the Batmobile’s intercom.

“This is Batman. I’m calling regarding the investigation you conducted with the missing boys.”

“Oh! Batman! Right, well, just as you requested, we removed the remains and returned them to those who had families. The rest were cremated. If this is truly the work of Joker and Two-Face as you suspect, we will ultimately leave their capture up to you. I have assigned a team to look into their locations. With a month headstart, I can’t guarantee we’ll find them. They may even be back in Gotham.”

“They aren’t,” he said definitively. “I have my sources. They haven’t been seen in Gotham in months. I highly suspect they’re still in Jump, laying low and trying to think of a new plan.”

“Well, we’ll let you know if we find anything, but they did a good job of clearing their tracks.”

“Did you leave everything else where it was?”

“Just like you requested.”

“Good. I’ll let you know if I learn anything new.”

“Good luck, Batman.”

He ended the call, heaving a sigh of relief. Working with the Gotham PD was always a pain, and if Gordan wasn’t on duty, it was damn near impossible. So when Jump PD was so cooperative, it was like a breath of fresh air.

He assumed their disposition was thanks to Robin.

The Batmobile pulled up to the building, the address that Cyborg had provided him with. Two dudes were having a smoke on the opposite street.

“Hey, you Batman?” One guy called.

Batman just looked at him as he closed his door.

“Like the real one?”

“Who wants to know?”

“You the one that’s been catching the petty crooks and leaving love notes?”

“No. Just got into town.”

The guy nudged his buddy. “See, told you it wasn’t Batman.”

“You guys smoke here often?” Batman asked.

“Fairly. Live upstairs.” He threw his thumb at the building they were leaning against. “Why?”

“Ever see any freaks come out of this building?”

One guy, the larger of the two, dropped his cig and stomped it out, and then came closer to Batman so he could talk in a softer voice. “I mean no disrespect Batman, but everyone in this neighborhood makes it a point to mind their own business. It’s not safe to witness anybody coming in or out of any place.”

Batman grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. “I’m not asking about other people coming and going. I’m asking about a clown or a man with half his face burnt to a crisp. I don’t give two shits about anything else.”

“G-got it. Yeah, uh…I definitely saw those guys.”

Batman set him down.

“It was a while back. Probably a month was the last time. They were noisy as hell. Always laughing. I heard gunshots a few times.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“Sorry, I don’t. But I always knew they were in when I saw a white utility van parked where you are now. Some electric company logo on the side that I can’t remember. Oh, and the license plate started with ‘A’, if I remember that right.”

Batman gave him a clap on the shoulder. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Don’t mention it.” He started walking back to his friend. “Seriously. Don’t.”

Batman went back to the parking space, scanning the ground for tire marks. Several prints came back, so he abandoned that idea.

Then he went to the backdoor that Cyborg had detailed in his report. It was unlocked, but he had a feeling anyone that tried to loot the building would quickly change their mind.

The torture room was worse in person. Blood everywhere. Horrible devices spread across tables and hanging on the wall. But no empty syringes, no notes, no journals. Nothing of use. Just enough information to paint a very ugly narrative of nineteen young men finding their doom, and one entering a torturous existence.

But perhaps the information he was looking for was never in this room to begin with. He scoured the building. Checking every room he passed.

He did find an office. There wasn’t much that would allow him forward, but there were some documents left behind that would shed a little more light on the experiment.

Three piles of applications.

14 labeled as ‘fodder’. This pile consisted of deeply disturbed and highly medicated individuals with conditions such as schizophrenia or other psychotic disorders.

Another pile of 5 were labeled ‘true candidates’. This group had been hospitalized for violent episodes towards other minors or foster families. They all were diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder or Bipolar.

Then, there was one application in between the two piles labeled ‘Control’. It was Robin’s.

‘This one has a strong moral code, despite his level of depression. He may help or hinder the experiment, but is not expected to last long.’

Batman couldn’t help but snort. Neither Joker or Dent were scientists, and had no idea what they had gotten into.

It looked like these applications had come from the beginning of the project and that further documents had been taken wherever they had gone.

Then there was the basement. Those two rooms may not contain anything useful, but he was not doing his due diligence if he didn’t at least check it out.

It took him a minute to find the ladder that Raven had mentioned, but soon he was able to let himself down to the dark, dank, hell mouth.

It still smelled foul, even without a body still hanging around. But it was a smell Batman had encountered before and knew how to deal with. A dab of Vick’s in the nose, and he could handle being down here for a little while at least.

He checked out the containment room first.

There were some flies, still subsisting off of the putrid puddles on the floor. The Slade bot laid in a heap on the ground, broken to pieces.

As he moved around the room, he noticed tick marks on some of the walls, as evidently the boys were trying to keep track of how long they had been there.

He saw Starfire’s name on the wall, written in blood.

He flipped the unsaturated mattresses, just checking for any hidden messages, but found nothing.

Nothing but grief.

So he moved on.

The room next door had housed the skulls of the other victims. The cards that had labeled the skulls remained in place, while the bones were gone. The knives on the workbench were in the same position as the photo.

Out of the three drums of sulfuric acid, one was gone. The two remaining were still factory sealed.

Batman made a call.

“Chief Anderson Duffy,” said the voice on the other end of the line.

“It’s Batman. What information did you glean from the drum of sulfuric acid that’s gone?”

“Oh that. Forensics were on that. Let me see what they reported.” There were some clacking of keys on the other end. “They found trace bone fragments in the acid. Says here that the acid didn’t contain the sludge often left over from dissolving a body, let alone 18. They think that these sickos may have only dissolved a few parts of a small number of bodies, before deciding to do something else with the remains.”

Batman growled, disgusted, frustrated, and angry.

These were all boys with full lives ahead of them. Boys that were taken advantage of because of where they were in life. Orphans, sick, vulnerable, impressionable. They could have been helped. They could have—

He tried not to dwell on that. They were gone, and it was his job to find out where they were taken.

I don’t eat processed meat because I don’t want to accidentally eat human meat.

At first, Batman had foolishly taken the statement at face value. Black said something insane, because that’s what he was. It was shock value, it was delusional, it was paranoid…but now it made sense.

“I know where the other bodies were taken.”

“Oh great! Just tell us where to look and we’ll take care of it.”

“Unfortunately, nothing is going to be recovered. I’m fairly certain they were cooked and fed to the other victims.”

There was silence from the other line, Batman assumed shock. “...If that’s what you think, we’ll go with it for now. I would like proof though.”

“I’ll get you either a confession from the Joker or Dent, or a witness account from the survivor.”

“You found the survivor?”

“Yeah. He’s in treatment. His mental condition is very unstable and he has retrograde amnesia. It might be a while before he’s able to talk about this incident.”

Duffy was quiet for a while before admitting, “you’ve made more headway on this case in the two days you’ve been here than the four months we’ve been working it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Chief. I know how these two operate, and the clues they left were only going to be picked up by me.”

“Well, at any rate, thank you for working with us. Now, if only we could make some headway in Robin’s case.”

Batman huffed. “Who do you think the survivor was?”

“What? Really? That’s excellent! Well, maybe not, considering what you said about his mental state.”

“You would do me a great favor if you closed that case and stopped thinking about it.”

“Right. I’ll pretend like I don’t know anything. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I will.” And he hung up.

There was a part of Batman that was frustrated with how messy this whole thing had gotten. Of course Robin was going to go undercover when he heard about this operation. Of course the easiest and least suspicious way to do so was to use the identity he used as a volunteer at the hospital.

He just hated that it led back to his real name, and now that name wasn’t safe anymore.

He was less concerned that Richard Grayson be linked back to Bruce Wayne, because really, how uncommon was the name?

Emerging from the basement, he crossed over the threshold to the torture chamber and twitched in surprise when he saw a man sitting in the rigged dentist’s chair.

It was not the half-faced mask he wanted to see.

“Ah, so that truly was the Batmobile out front. Interesting.”

Batman observed this new foe quickly, taking in the armor, the physique, the posture, and lack of weapons.

“I have no business with you, Slade. But I suppose I could fit time into my busy schedule.”

“You have heard of me. How nice. My old apprentice mentioned me?”

“No. My old friend mentioned a psychopath blackmailed him into stealing. I told him not to worry too much about a grown man that gets his rocks off bullying children.”

Slade’s eye narrowed. He tilted his head slightly, his expression completely hidden behind his mask. “So. What does the great Batman want in my building?”

“You own this block? I assumed it was abandoned.”

“‘Owned’ is a…loose term. I acquired it, because no one wanted it. It serves its purpose to me.”

“Ever rent it out?”

“No. Which is why I’m here. Heard someone was playing doctor while I was away.”

“Taking a vacation?” Batman snipped.

“Something like that,” Slade said casually. “I died. Did some sight-seeing in hell. Did some overtime during the apocalypse and got my flesh back. Then I spent several weeks trying to relearn how to walk.” He shifted so his head rested on his fist. “And now I hear I missed out on a very interesting experiment…but why would that concern Batman so much to bring him all the way here?”

“Ever heard of the Joker or Two-Face?”

“I subscribe to Villains Monthly.”

“Got jokes, do you?”

“I have a new lease on life Batman. Got a little more…pep in my step.”

“I hope those steps lead you out of my way.”

“You’re very serious, aren’t you? I see where Robin gets it from.”

Batman just glared at him.

“In case you’re wondering, I had nothing to do with whatever happened here. Frankly, I’m rather upset I wasn’t invited. I have clean up to do, since your friends decided to make a mess. So if you wouldn’t mind showing yourself out, that’d be just swell.”

“Sure,” said Batman. “But before I leave,” he cracked his knuckles, “why don’t I take the trash out?”

—-

Batman returned to the Titan’s tower about an hour later, a limp in his step and blood on his uniform.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Alfred asked as he entered. The rest of the Titans were sitting around at the table, empty plates in front of them.

“Fine. Just…had a little altercation. Tore the stitching in my leg.” He slid in next to Beast Boy, and leaned on his arms.

Raven was quick to go to him, and pressed a healing hand to his wound. “What happened?”

“I did a little investigating into that building where Robin was held, hoping for a lead to where Joker and Dent may have gone. Instead I ran into the building’s owner.”

Alfred placed a plate of Chicken Parmesan in front of him.

“...was the owner a tough dude?” Beast Boy asked, noticing the blood on his shirt was from his own nose.

He huffed, annoyed. He didn’t really want to reveal all this to them for several reasons, but they needed to know. “Yeah, tougher than expected. He’s a man by the name of Slade. Ever heard of him?”

Cyborg, who was on his fourth serving, nearly choked on his mouthful of pasta, while the other Titans gasped in horror.

“But he—” Starfire protested.

“Trigon resurrected him,” Raven bit. “He was there in the final battle, and then he disappeared.”

“Apparently, he had to relearn how to walk,” said Batman, shooing Raven away from his leg. “I took care of him. He put up a fight, but I knocked him unconscious and delivered him to Duffy personally. That’s why I’m late.”

The Titans shared a look, all being slightly embarrassed that Batman had been able to do alone what they hadn’t been able to do together.

“I can’t imagine this is going to actually stop him, but I bought you some time.” He finally started eating some of his dinner. “And he was tough, but definitely not ready to fight. I think he was still weak.”

“Still, it’s a little humiliating that you had to take care of our bad guy,” Beast Boy winced.

Batman smirked slightly. “I have had daydreams about sending that bastard to the hospital. Robin told me all about what happened with that sham of an apprenticeship. Blackmailing him by infecting teens with nanobots that slowly and painfully kill them unless he does what he wants? Sounds like Arkham’s next inmate.” He took a drink of water. “But that’s something to worry about later. How’s Robin—or Black, I suppose?”

“He is unwell,” Starfire looked over to the couch. For the first time, Batman noticed the boy was laying down, but was very still and quiet. “He did not eat dinner, and says…I believe the phrase was, ‘his think meat was thrown against a wall’?”

“That’s not a real metaphor,” Beast Boy offered. “That’s just his brand of stupidity.”

“Well, he’s making jokes, so he’s doing alright for now,” Batman argued. “We’ll just have to keep an eye on him. Right, Robin?” He asked a little louder, so he could hear him.

The other boy didn’t answer for a really long time, but the team was quiet and listened if either Black or Robin would respond.

Then, in the quiet of the room, with only the hum of the air system and a ticking clock on the wall, he sang. It was in his pathetic falsetto, with a scratchy tone. Up until now, Black’s songs had really depressing lyrics, but he had delivered them joyfully. This time, the song was far too sad.

“I am…the only one that got through. The others died wherever they fell.”

Starfire floated up from where she was seated and rested on the couch beside him, petting his head gently.

“It was an ambush…they came up from all sides.”

Batman set his silverware down quietly and listened very closely.

“Give your Masters each a gun and then let them fight it out themselves.”

Beast Boy swallowed thickly, biting his tongue. Black had changed the lyrics.

“I've seen demons coming up from the ground. I've seen hell upon this Earth.”

Raven closed her eyes as the image of that corpse came to mind against her will.

“The next will be chemical…but they will never stop.”

Alfred turned his back, hiding his face.

Once silence reigned for more than a minute, it was clear that the message was over.

“He changed the lyrics,” both Batman and Beast Boy said.

“The song is ‘In Memory of Harry Patch’,” Batman elaborated. “He changed ‘give your leaders’ to ‘give your masters’ and ‘they will never learn’ to ‘they will never stop’.”

“What do you suppose he was trying to say?”

“Maybe he thought Dent and Joker turned on each other? Or perhaps they’re going to try this again?” Batman mused aloud.

Black sat up from the couch, and they could already see the faint veins standing out against his pale skin. “Can I have one of dem Gumby skittles?”

“No,” Batman said, not blinking an eye. “We’re not giving you any medicine for a while, because we need a clean blood test.”

Black frowned and turned to Starfire. “You said that if I was ever in pain I should come to you, because you don’t like to see me in pain.”

Starfire hunched her shoulders, feeling guilty. “You are right, but I cannot give you the medicine you require. Perhaps a shoulder massage will help?”

He stood, stretching. “No. I think I’ll just go lay down in bed for a while, where it’s dark and quiet.”

Batman swirled some noodles around on his fork. “Alright, we’ll check on you in a little bit.”

Black nodded in understanding and left the ops room. He only stopped into his room for a moment to grab his trenchcoat, before escaping quickly to the hall, and then to the underground access tunnel.

Thank goodness for fingerprint scanners.

#fanfiction #teen titans #animated tt #teen titans 2003 #robin #dick grayson #starfire #koriandr #batman

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nuzzle · 8 months

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hi, i love your blog so much! *⋆˚꒰ˊૢᵕˋૢෆ꒱ out of curiousity, when and how did you become a lolita lifestyler and do you have any tips for someone trying to become one? thank you!! ଯ( ॢᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ॢഒ

hello, and thank you so much for loving my blog!! ♡

i'm sure many lolitas have different ideas on what a lifestyler exactly is and what being one means to them personally.. but i think it's as simple as loving the fashion so much that you put forward the effort to incorporate it into other parts of your life.

i first started considering myself a lifestyler about a year ago. around that time, my wardrobe was building up a bit more and i was crossing a bunch of dream items off my list. i also started slowly growing my collection of lolita-related physical media (catalogs from brands, gothic & lolita bibles, lolita magazines, books, dvds and such!) i wanted other factors of my life to match my clothes.

i feel as though a lot of it has to do with your environment. changing up your room a bit.. maybe you want to paint your walls a different color or rearrange things a bit. you could slowly collect the things you love, it could be anything! tea sets, figures, manga, music, games, posters or prints of art.. for me—adorning my closet with my dresses, having a display mannequin, organizing my accessories, including my novelty items in my daily use, displaying my collection of media in my lolita room and surrounding myself with my favorite things helped egl feel more like a lifestyle rather than just a fashion that i love!

other than decorating your living space/room i think dressing up daily is an obvious one. doesn't have to necessarily all be lolita, maybe if your school/work's dress code doesn't allow it you could have some egl inspired elements in your casual everyday outfits. outside of that, having cute roomwear/pajamas comes to mind.. like the nightgown and nightcap momoko wears in kamikaze girls! a cute swimsuit for beach or pool days in the summer, perhaps workout gear and outfits for the gym that matches your aesthetic (i instantly think of the silly bedazzled dumbbell in mister rococo)

occasionally taking some coord pics or making wardrobe related posts, going on outings that feel rococo or victorian inspired (maybe a garden visit, museums, a picnic, or afternoon tea!) having a journal, blog, social media or maybe even your own website dedicated to the topic and decorated with your aesthetic of choice, could all be really fun things for a lifestyler. i find that cataloging your wardrobe is exciting (be it digitally on lolibrary, making your own database for your closet, or building one of those physical books with pictures) along with planning coords. some more hobbies could be sewing, fixing up and restoring items in your wardrobe, crochet, baking or cooking (make some cute sweets or snacks!) studying art history or historical fashions, gardening or tending to flowers, looking into a variety of different teas and tea leaves you may enjoy, making collages or journaling, reading, listening to music, playing an instrument, watching movies, playing games, it could really be anything that you enjoy!

it's also important to remember not everything in your life has to be centered around egl, and not everything has to fit inside an aesthetic box. don't let being a lifestyler burn you out or put you off of trying different things.. you can truly do anything you want to do at the end of the day. your passion and love of lolita won't start disappearing and fading away on days that you choose to live differently!

and thank you for the fun question!! i hope my answer was able to do it justice ^_^

#asks #lolita fashion #egl #lolita lifestyle

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hatbox-apologist · 8 months

Text

The Ghost In My Heart

Pt.3

Warnings: romance, grief, drug induced sleepy time, self-deprecation, mention of murder, a bit of betrayal, and a few time skips

Preface: I really enjoyed writing this one. I think it's much more complex than the other parts, with a lot more happening all in one part. I don't have much more to say other than I really do hope you enjoy it. :)

It had been 6 months since Madame Leota moved into the mansion and held a seance every night. And every night, with every seance, the ghosts chose you to be their mouth piece. You were exhausted after being used night after night, feeling so much death, but as long as you felt you were helping, you were happy to be there. There was one particularly rough seance with the ghost of a black widow bride making you see and feel like your head was being cut off, Madame Leota had to intervene. She couldn’t get rid of the ghost but made them fairly docile with some sage. “I’m going to have some tea before I turn in to calm my nerves, would either of you like to join me?” Madame Leota asked, picking up her cane. “Tea sounds lovely.” William said standing. You said nothing, just looked at the corner of the room where only you saw the captain. He stared at you with his arms folded and his head turned up at you. “Are you alright?” William put his hand on your shoulder. You shake your head out of it, “Yes, fine.” you say shortly. “Will you be joining us for tea?” he asks again. “Not tonight, thank you.” you say. “Well alright, we’ll be in the living room if you need us.” Madame Leota said and they both walked out, William shutting the door behind him.

You get up abruptly and turn to the journal and thrust it open to a new page. “Why are you haunting me captain?!” you say angrily into the corner where he stood a moment ago. But the pen doesn’t move. Then suddenly the sound of the ship’s bell rings out and you cover your ears to try to block it out but it doesn’t work, it only grows louder. “You know why I’m here!” a gruff voice shouts at you and wind suddenly starts blowing in the room almost knocking you down. “Stop it. Stop it.” You grunt back at it, screwing your eyes shut. “You suffer!” the voice retorts and rain starts pouring down on you. “I can’t tell him, you know I can’t” You shout into the storm. The bell rings so loud in your head it vibrates your skull and you drop to your knees on the floor, which is now ankle deep in sea water. “It will break his trust in me if I bow out! I must hold on and stay by his side!” you yell in desperation but the torrent only grows stronger. “Even at your own expense?!” the voice roars like thunder at you. “At any cost! I cannot waiver! Or this is all for not!” you practically scream. “Then you are lost!” the captain’s voice blares. “I may be! But at least I am lost with him!” you yell but the deluge holds strong around you. “I know I have lost my way but I don’t have any other path but this one now! I’ve made my fate and I will live or die with the consequences!” You sob. And finally the storm calms to nothing but the water pooled around you. “You will not change. I will not leave.” The captain says and everything around you dries and watery foot prints stomp out of the seance room.

3 months pass after that, but everything remains the same. So many seances and equally as many ghosts, they get blurred together in your memory. Names get to be a bit fuzzy at times, especially after rough seances that wear down your mind. William however seems less optimistic as he was in the beginning. It’s almost coming up on a year now and still, Eleanor has not shown up. “May I confide in you something?” William asks you one morning while having morning tea in the garden. Madame Leota was inside talking with the spirits. “Of course you can. What is it?” you say, only a little bit concerned. “It’s been 9 months we’ve been trying to contact her. And I grow more and more worried. What if she doesn’t want to make contact with us? With me? Or what if she’s not here? What if she’s-” William says with each question he becomes more frantic, so you put your hand on his arm to calm and quiet him. “We will reach Eleanor, William. I promise you, on my life, I will help you find her.” You say with utter devotion. “You are such a good friend to me, y/n. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve such a companion.” he smiles brightly at you and it warms your heart. “You needn’t do anything.” you say bumping his shoulder with yours and you both giggle and continue enjoying the pleasant morning.

Finally the day had come, the first year anniversary of it all. The day goes on as usual and then the night begins in the seance room. “Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat; call in the spirits, wherever they’re at.” Madame Leota says and the seance begins. the crystal ball glows and levitates. You feel like someone or something is trying to say something to you but it all just comes out in jumbled hushed whispers. “Anything yet?” William asks. “Not really. It sounds like they’re trying but can’t quite find the words?” You say tilting your head. “Hmm. Wizards and witches, wherever you dwell, give us a hint, by ringing a bell!” Madame Leota gestures to a brass bell on the table, but again nothing happens. “Wrap on a table, it's time to respond! Send us a message from somewhere beyond!” shouted Madame Leota, slamming her hand down on the table. And finally you saw him. Only his head showed through the crystal ball. His face burned into your memory. His wicked grin and his crazed eyes. His eyes darted over to you and noticed the terrified look on your face. “You.” he says and tilts his head down at you. Suddenly you felt his soul, his aura, his overpowering madness and insatiable bloodlust overwhelmed you. Your face went pale as a sheet. “Y/n? What is it? What’s happening.” William asked concerned. You were scared speechless, it felt like all the air had been taken out of the room and you couldn’t breathe. The head laughed maniacally and you saw all his murders flash by your eyes in an instant, and you saw them as if looking through his eyes. Then his head vanished from the ball and you frantically looked around the room. You peek behind your chair to find him standing there, hunched over with a cane in one hand and a glowing hatbox in the other. His head, now inside the hatbox, illuminates the corner of the room. “Boo!” he says and chuckles at you when you jump. “No no no! Shut it down! Shut it down!” You practically scream to Madame Leota. While keeping eye contact with the hatbox ghost. He takes a menacing step towards you, scraping his other foot across the floor. “You can’t banish me, foolish mortal.” he cackles out. Madame Leota lights the sage and waves it around the space to get him to leave but he stands unwavering. “Aww, that won’t hurt me. You know better than that.” he scoffs and continues towards you. William grabs the bell and starts ringing in the direction where you’re looking. “Ugh! Such noise!” The ghost says and dematerializes. You turn around to see if the crystal ball had stopped glowing and it did. So you slump back down in your chair knowing the portal had closed.

Your heart racing in your chest, you pant, gripping the arms of the chair to stop yourself from quaking. “Is everyone alright?” you pant out. “Yes.” Madame Leota says calming down. “Yes, but are you alright?” William says concerned. “For now. Though, we need to banish that ghost back to the region beyond. I don’t know who or what that ghost is, but he'a evil and maddening.” You say darkly. His face flashes in your memory, it’s all you see behind your eyelids when you so much as blink, it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll see what I can do to find a banishment.” Madame Leota says opening her book, William still looks concerned at you but says nothing. “I’m going to go for a brandy.” You say trying desperately to stand while your legs quake against your will. William gets up and helps you stand. “I’ll come with you.” He says, holding your arm. “Oh, no, it’s alright.” You say trying to wave him off as you walk slowly out of his hold. William gives you those sad kicked puppy eyes. “Listen, I'm alright, really.” You say and hobble up the stairs to the living room.

You call a servant for a cherry brandy and sit down on a sofa. You sigh and put your elbows on your knees to cradle your head. You close your eyes only for a moment and see his face again. “Your brandy?” a servant says, making your heart leap out of your chest and you fall back onto the sofa. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you.” the servant says. “No, no, it's alright.” you say taking the brandy and down half of it. “Rough night?” the servant says observing you. “Extremely.” you say running your hand down your face. “Penny for your thoughts?” the servant asks, looking down at your trembling figure. “Not a chance. Not tonight.” you say downing the rest of the brandy. “Oh, not even the slightest detail?” the servant says, but the voice isn’t the one you heard before, it was his. Your eyes go wide and you look up at the servant, their nose is bleeding and their eyes have dark circles under them. “You fiend!” you shoot up and grab the servant by the collar. “I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-” the servant pleads. You drag the servant by the collar to the seance room. “Y/n?! What in the world are you doing?!” William says, and Madame Leota looks up from her book and gasps. “He’s using this servant as a puppet!” You say to them confidently. William and Madame Leota look at you puzzled. “Look he has blood-” and as you look over, the servant looks right as rain, just as they appeared before. Your face falls. “But he was just- Their nose was bleeding, and their eyes-” you say, studying the servant's face. “Dear… maybe you should get some rest.” Madame Leota suggests gently as to not stir you. “No please, you must believe me.” You plead, looking back at them. “William?” You look at William. He opens his mouth then closes it and takes a moment to think and dismay dawns on his face. “No, no please, William.” You say. “Maybe you do need some rest. After the events of the night.” He looks up at you while hanging his head. You look back at the servant who is still fearfully looking at you. You retract your hand from their collar and it trembles terribly as you do so, so you cover it with your other hand to stop it from shaking so much. You look skittishly back at them now questioning your own sanity in the matter. William tries to say something and reach out to you, but you run out of the seance room to your guest bedroom.

You run in and shut the door, leaning on it as soon as you shut it. You cover your face, and tears burn your eyes. You crumple in on yourself and slide down the door until you sit on the floor. You hold your head and sob into your knees. Hot tears sizzle down your cheeks, and your nose gets stuffy, so you start to sniffle. You sit there in choked sobs for a while until a soft knock is heard on the door. “Yes?” You choke out. “Hello, I know you may not want to hear from me right now, but Master Gracey sent another brandy to you.” it was the servant from earlier that you had hallucinated to be the hatbox ghost. You stand up, wiping your tears and open the door to see the servant. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” The servant puts their hand up in surrender. You walk over and sit down in a chair by your vanity, motioning for the servant to come in. “Ah, I’m glad to see we’re on good terms then.” they say cheerfully. They walk in and set your brandy down on the vanity, and you immediately pick it up and down it all. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing tonight?” the servant asks with a grin, and suddenly your head starts to spin, and you look back at the servant to see their nose bleeding again and the dark circles returned to under their eyes. “What did you do to me, demon?” You say through gritted teeth while trying to get up. He giggles through the servant’s mouth and pushes you back down. “Don’t want you falling.” He says and throws a gesture in the air, and the door to your room closes quietly. “Oh nothing, just a bit of brandy and a bit of laudanum.” he says in his voice while making the servant tilt their head side to side with each ingredient. Your vision starts to blur around the edges, but you try desperately to hang on. “You… fiend…” you slur out and sway. He walks the servant over to your bed and makes them pick up a pillow. He makes them dust it off and place it in front of you on the vanity. “Can’t have you splitting that head of yours, now can we? Sleep tight.” He laughs maniacally, your head falls to the pillow, and everything fades to black.

Pt.5: https://www.tumblr.com/seriously-nobody/728906187359338496/the-ghost-in-my-heart?source=share

#haunted mansion #the haunted mansion #haunted mansion 2023 #hatbox ghost #william gracey #master gracey #alistair crump #william gracey x reader #madame leota #master gracey x reader #william gracey x you #master gracey x you

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