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paimaniagalaxia · 2 months

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FNAF AU- Clean Up Time

Ship: Springtrap x Self insert

Word count: 785

Summary: The after math of the events of FNAF 1, where a clean up crew is hired by Henry Emily to help refurbish and confiscate the animatronics.

Paige is apart of that clean up crew and decides to leave the rest of her crew mates to finish the job, all the while exploring the rest of the pizzaria. Only to end up in parts and services, to find the one and only William Afton. AKA, Springtrap.

CHAPTER TWO

Help… Never think I would get it for myself. Being trapped in this hellhole for so long, never to seek salvation. But here she was, aiding me and repairing me. I… I never thought I would get another chance at life. But here she was.

That very help.

But would she know who I was? Now that was the big question. If she did KNEW, then that’ll be the end of this budding relationship.

Child murderer, family killer, those aren’t green flags.

Best to play dumb, but not that dumb…

“So… Thirty-one years… Didn’t think an animatronic would be stuck in here.” Paige spoke up, breaking the silence between them. As she never recognized who Springtrap was. So that was a sign.

Springtrap tilts his head as he allows Paige to re-tighten its joints. It could feel its arm move. So it starts to lift its arm up and down, showing that Paige did a good job. “Thank you… Tell me, did your employer tell you anything else…? W-Why are you here?” Springtrap asks.

“Just to clean up the Pizzeria and take back the animatronics to my boss.” Paige answers back. But she could feel another question coming.

“Just who’s your boss?”

“Henry Emily…”

Now that name was familiar, way too familiar. How was he still alive?! Springtrap was perplexed as it didn’t like this man. The very man who drove it mad. Springtrap let out a grunt of annoyance.

“Henry… Not a very good man.”

“How do you know…?” Paige asks.

Springtrap freezes, as it didn’t mean to drop that tidbit of information. It huffs as it turns its head to the side.

“He… He wasn’t a good man to be around. Always berating us.”

“That’s not very nice…” Paige comments back as she goes down to Springtrap’s legs to tighten the bolts.

“No. He’s not…” Springtrap remarks back.

Springtrap thinks back as it needed to know why Henry was wanting to clean the pizzeria and take away the main four with him. That didn’t seem right, why care about an old location now? This place would be burnt down if it was in charge. To get rid of the terrible memories that lingered on this place. The mistakes that it made, and put it behind Springtrap.

“Would it be possible for me to speak to him?” It asked.

“Eh?” Paige looks confused.

“Can I speak to him…?” Springtrap asks again.

“I don’t know… I don’t think he would be too happy to speak to you.”

“And how would that be an issue?” Springtrap asks again.

“I… I don’t know. Anything that I’ve asked about his past, he shuts me down.” Springtrap hums before it sees Paige finishes working on it, and slowly starts to push itself up. It grunts as it presses its digits against the wall, huffing and coughing till it was on both of its feet.

“He isn’t good at moving on… Is he?” Springtrap asks.

“No he isn’t…” Paige shakes her head and looks at the door before looking back at Springtrap.

“This might be personal… But pronouns?” She asks.

Springtrap shook its head and looked away. It never felt that it was a ‘he’ anymore. Since becoming who it was.

“It, its…? I don’t consider myself for either masculine or feminine pronouns…”

“She, they…” Paige answers back.

“Oh.” Springtrap blinks astonished before jerking up to hear screaming and yelling from the otherside of the door.

“Oh shit…”

Paige shakes her head as she stands up to hear heavy metal and bones crunching, muffled from the other side of the door. It made her cringe and hold her arm. Giving a disgusted look.

“What’s going on…? Springtrap?”

“Them.” Springtrap answers sternly.

“Who’s th--” Paige was interrupted as she felt her mouth get covered by Springtrap’s servo. Being held close to its body, being told to keep quiet.

STOMP STOMP STOMP

There were creaking and old parts moving. A low humming noise could be heard. That someone was at the door. As there was a heavy scrapping at the door, like nails on a chalkboard.

Paige had a wide eye look of fear, of who could be on the other side of that door? But she didn’t want to find out, as someone else caught its attention.

A hiss could be heard before it tramples away to follow the new sounds.

“T-Them?” Paige asks between Springtrap’s fingers.

“Them…” Springtrap remarks back.

The animatronics were on the loose, and one by one-- The crew that Paige came with, were being slaughtered one by one. That soon it’ll be only them. Only them with four killer animatronics that would be out to get them soon enough.

Just two vs four… Not good odds.

[END OF CHAPTER TWO]

#pai writes #fan fiction #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf au clean up time #springtrap #william afton #henry emily #self insert #fan fic #fanfic #fan fic writing #tw: blood #blood #tw blood

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schoenheitslut · 3 years

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BABYSITTER

note/s :: literally just porn without plot. I vastly underestimated how long this would be. It’s completely self indulgent and based on the babysitter au idea I had earlier. This is probably shit but honestly it was so fun to write now that I don’t feel embarrassed while writing smut.

desc :: mari is a babysitter for epel. after tucking epel in, she finds rook in the kitchen and offers to cook dinner for him. she realizes that her two attractive bosses feel the same way about her.

word count :: 2263

pairing :: beautywings | rookvil x mari

Mari stretched her arms as she exited Epel’s room. It took a bit of time in order to get the rowdy child to bed but she managed to tire him out enough. It was kind of a shame that she didn’t get to tell him a bedtime story like usual but Vil is very strict about the exact time he needs to be asleep. Sometimes it was a little tiring to meet his standards but it was all worth it in the end. The family paid well and Epel was a sweet child.

Her eyes landed on the man sitting in the living room. A small smile graced her lips. “Ah, I see you’re back from work, Mr. Hunt. Have you eaten dinner?” She asked him.

He shook his head, mirroring her smile. He tipped his hat to her in greeting, gazing at her like he usually did. It looked as though he was a predator stalking his prey. But as a hunter, it was just his thing, she reasoned with herself internally. He’s never done anything to harm her. In fact, he was always so charming and sweet. Mr. Schoenheit was a lucky man to have him as a husband.

“Then let me make something for you.”

Mari made her way to the kitchen in order to cook something up for the two of them, as well as Mr. Schoenheit. Hopefully she can perfect her skill in making meals the way her two employers like it, knowing how high the actor’s standards were for everything. As she placed the ingredients onto the counter, she felt a warm breath on her neck, causing her to jolt and drop the ingredients on it. His arms wrapped around her.

“M-Mr. Hunt, what are you doing—”

She was interrupted by him. “Fufu, I’ve always dreamed of getting to know you carnally on this counter. The thought of having you for dinner tonight makes me feel so excited.” He couldn’t mask the giddiness in his voice. His hands roamed her body, groping at every curve.

“Mr. Hunt, you’re married— Ah!” She moaned at him slipping his fingers through her skirt and panties and inside her warmth, massaging her insides. She felt his tongue drag across her neck and collarbone. A heat spread throughout her body from her abdomen.

“Mm, yes. You’re so wet, mon petit lapin,” he cooed as he grinded his hips against hers, pressing his hardness to her ass.

She bit her lip, trying not to be too loud. But accidentally let another moan out when he inserted another finger into her depths. A knot formed in her loins, squeezing tightly and aching for release.

“Let me hear all your beautiful noises, mon chéri. Show me how much of a whore you are,” he whispered into her ear, tickling it lightly. It caused her to gasp. For some reason, she felt her pussy twitch at his words.

But then came the sound of heels clacking against the marble floor. Her heart stopped, recognising the sound and her head whipped up to see the glacial gaze of Mr. Schoenheit piercing through her soul.

She was so fucked.

“Mr. Schoenheit, I’m so sorry—”

Vil glared at his husband. “How dare you start without me, Rook? I should punish you for your impatience.” He walked over and pushed him off of the girl.

“Wha—”

She couldn’t even get a full word in before he pulled her towards him and picked her up, carrying her bridal style to their shared room. “Don’t be so surprised, darling. I hope you really didn’t think we didn’t notice how you look at the two of us with such longing eyes.”

Her cheeks heated up, unsure how to respond to all this but she couldn’t bring herself to protest. He was right. But god, it felt embarrassing to know that they were aware of how she saw them this whole time.

The model laid her on the bed, the silk sheets were more inviting and twice as sensual on her skin. A click sounded from behind them, indicating that the door had been locked.

“Sit down.” His voice was commanding, so much so that his husband immediately sat down on the chair. He pulled his drawer and took out some brilliant red rope before expertly tying his husband in a manner that reminded the girl of shibari, such intricate and detailed patterns were so elegant that she felt unworthy of seeing Rook in such an erotic state. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to calm the rising heat between them.

He tied a blindfold over his eyes, concealing them. Then, Vil turned to her, causing her to tense up. Her breath hitched. “Strip for me. Slowly.”

Mari gulped and nodded, unbuttoning her cardigan one at a time. She took it off, revealing her bare shoulders and started to strip off her dress which left her in her underwear.

He tutted. “They’re decent, but you could do better, my dear.” He eyed her underwear, judging the way the fabric hugged her body, how the color looked against her skin tone, and other things.

“I didn’t exactly expect this to happen, sir,” she spoke, finally able to actually get a whole sentence out.

A frown pulled at his lips. His expression was one of exasperation. “We were meant to wait until I deemed you ready but Rook had gotten too excited, so now I have to punish him for that.”

Vil crossed his arms. “But before we proceed any further, I must ask if you are truly alright with this. You’re allowed to say no if you do not feel comfortable with this. Do not feel pressured by our status as your employers.” He seemed so genuine with his words, like he truly cared about how she felt. “You may go home and forget this ever happened and I can assure you that it won’t affect your job.”

She bit her lip, nodding meekly. “Yeah, I was just shocked that you guys would actually… want this. I’m still having trouble believing this is actually happening.” This felt too good to be true. The two men that she pined for had just suddenly shown that they were interested in her. She wondered if this was just a really spicy dream she was having after being sexually repressed for years. But it was really nice that Vil cared enough for her consent first.

He smirked, leaning closer. His finger hooked underher chin to make her look directly at his lilac eyes that held such lust for her.

“Then we’ll have the whole night to convince you that this is very real.”

His other hand went behind her and unhooked her bra with ease. It fell to the ground with a near silent thud. She shivered, feeling a cool breeze nip at her flesh. He took off her panties as well, dropping them so that she was completely naked.

Vil led her to where Rook was and instructed her to get on her knees in front of him. The girl unzipped his pants and was startled by his thick length springing up, leaking precum. “Place it in between your breasts,” the taller male ordered her. She obliged, leaning closer to get him between her soft mounds. Rook shivered at the contact, his cock twitched lightly.

“Now, lick the tip.”

Mari opened her mouth and circled her tongue over the head, causing the hunter to moan lightly. She then felt a pair of hands snaking down to her nether regions, rubbing circles on her clit. This caused her breath to hitch.

“Take it in your mouth and massage him,” Vil commanded her as he moved closer to her, their bodies had gotten so close that she felt his hardness against her.

She followed his orders. Rook groaned at her actions, wishing that he could see her but the blindfold prevented him from doing that. “Mon ange, please—”

The actor noticed and a mirthful smirk pulled at his glossy lips, enhancing his gorgeous features. “Begging already, are we?” He asked. “How pitiful. Usually you can last hours before you’re even pleading for release.”

“But I suppose it can’t be helped,” he continued on, “You couldn’t even wait until she was ready, and now I have to punish your impatience.”

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, got it?” His voice was commanding, so much so that Rook had nodded immediately.

“Keep going,” Vil whispered into the girl’s ear before he looked down at her sopping wet cunt. His fingers entered her, making her gasp around his husband’s cock. “Hm, I see Rook did one thing right. You should be wet enough.”

His hard length pressed against her ass when she continued to tease Rook, who was doing well when it came to holding back. She swirled her tongue around his tip. Looking up at him like this was a glorious sight to behold. His skin shone with sweat and his body was completely ripped. His chest heaved as he breathed. A nice red blush dusted his pale cheeks.

Mari cried out when she felt Vil’s cock enter her. The more intense vibrations around his manhood caused Rook to jolt in pain and pleasure.

Vil waited for her to adjust for a moment before moving his hips to grind against hers. The heat between her legs intensified, raging like a fire. She moaned at the sensation, feeling him hit all the right places.

The hunter wished for nothing more than to be able to see during that moment. It must’ve been quite a sight to see his cock between her soft tits while she sucked the tip as Vil pounded into her from behind. He groaned. “Roi du Poison, please… forgive me.”

Vil hummed before looking down at Mari. “What do you think, dear? Should I?” He asked her before angling his hips upward to hit her g spot.

“I think he learned his les-SON!” Mari felt herself go cross-eyed when he hit that spot within her. The knot tightening in her loins.

“Hmph, you’re certainly forgiving. But fine. As it is your first night with us, you’ll have your way,” he said. He turned to his husband. “You have our permission.”

Upon hearing those words, Rook immediately spilled his seed into her mouth, filling it with his creamy essence.

“Don’t swallow just yet. Take off his blind fold.”

Mari pulled away, tasting the thick saltiness of his cum. She leaned up to remove the blindfold from his eyes. Hunter green irises locked with milk chocolate-hued ones.

“Make him taste himself,” Vil commanded as he leaned down on her shoulder to leave a trail of kisses.

Rook’s eyes darkened with lust and hunger when she closed in on his lips. It was obvious just how eager he was when his tongue entered her wet cavern. He moaned, finding bliss in such an intimate act shared between him and the girl.

“Mon ange, my cum tastes divine on you.”

As they did this, Vil quickened his thrusts, hitting every sweet spot in the process and making her cry out. Her body felt as though it was on fire with every thrust. Her walls hugged his thick cock, tightening around it.

“Mr. Schoenheit… Mr. Hunt…” Mari gasped, breathing heavily as she pulled away from the hunter, his seed dripped onto her breasts. “It feels so good…”

Rook leaned down to lick her bud, nibbling on it lightly. “Oh, my dear slut, you’re doing so well. But please, call us by our first names.” he praised her. She bit her lip.

“Ara? You’ve tightened around me when you were called a slut.” Vil smirked. “Does that mean you want to be treated like one?”

Mari couldn’t answer as the knot tightened more and more, needing release soon.

Smack!

“Ah!”

He gave her an icy glare, slowing his thrusts to a torturous pace. “I asked you a question, whore. I expect you to answer.”

She nodded frantically, desperate for relief. “Yes! Please treat me like your cumslut. I am nothing more than a toy for your pleasure.”

He hummed, smirking. “That wasn’t so hard now, wasn’t it? And for that, you’re allowed to cum now. Remember to thank me for filling you with my seed.”

Vil started going at a brutal pace. Fast squelching noises could be heard. The room was permeated with the scent of sex.

“Ah! Yes, thank you, Vil! Thank you!” Mari cried out repeatedly as she started going cross-eyed with pleasure.

And with one final thrust to her g spot, she squealed. She saw stars in her vision as euphoric bliss engulfed her senses. The knot in her loins snapped. She felt his seed flood her cunt before he slowly pulled out, some cum dripped onto the floor.

Mari panted heavily before collapsing, then was caught by Vil. He brought her over to the bed, laying her on it. Then, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You did well, my dear,” he praised her.

He turned around and started untying his husband’s constraints. The rope dropped to the floor.

Rook got up from the chair and approached her with a smirk. She looked up, a bit confused.

Vil turned to her. “I did say that we had the whole night to convince you after all. Don’t be so surprised.” He sat down, observing them with his lilac eyes.

“Ah, mon petit lapin, how I’ve waited to ravish you for so long.” Rook licked his lips as he neared her. “Now I can do it all night long.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #twst thirst #rook hunt x mc #vil schoenheit x mc #rookvil x mc

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rockofeye · 3 years

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Out of the depths.

It is somehow appropriate that a re-emergence and re-alignment comes with the beginning of the month of May. May is a big month for vodouizan; we celebrate Kouzen and all his family this month and, for people from Jacmel, it is a month devoted to celebrating Jacmel's heritage, which is tied closely to Kouzen. It is said Jacmel is where Kouzen was from before he went to more rural areas; it's not a coincidence that fet Jacmel and fet St Jacques e St Philippe (the patrons of Jacmel) are celebrated on the same days as fet Kouzen (May 1 and May 2).

I've been thinking about Kouzen a lot lately. It's been a difficult year in a lot of ways, but not a bad year. COVID has really permanently changed how things in my professional field work, and with the help of Kouzen and a few of my other lwa, I managed to leverage that into a position using all my professional strengths with the org that has been my target for employment for years. Landing that has not only been life-changing and future-solidifying, but really reinforces that I know what I know and that I am an expert at what I do.

That's a lesson that comes from Kouzen, and it's one that I struggle to learn and remember in my life. Kouzen shows me balance: he is the expert worker in his field (literal and figurative), but you might never know that from how he does his work. Underestimate him and you'll find out, but how he carries himself keeps his mastery of work and growth and agriculture from being the first thing that you see.

I'm pretty okay with that part, but that's the part I get tripped up about. I don't find anything fulfilling professionally or personally about illustrating what I know,, but there is a difference between going about your business and actively hiding from those moments where you can insert who you are and what you know.

I'm a hider. It might sound kind of funny coming from someone who has been writing a blog in the internet for close to a decade, but it's true: I am actually pretty shy and private and being the center of attention--professional or personal--is kind of horrifying to me. I've reached the point in my life where I don't feel I have a lot to prove because I know what I know, but in many ways that's just not possible for me. I don't work in a field where I can just close my office door and have it all be fine, and the lwa have made clear time after time that I cannot just ride off into Ginen with them and live a private life.

This has something that is always a struggle for me because I am introverted and like my alone space and time. It comes back to the good ol' lessons the lwa want me to learn over and over: balance and vulnerability. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes I react like a cat thrown into a bathtub full of water. The lwa win some, I lose some.

I had to get my ass in gear with the notions of balance and putting myself out there and being vulnerable in knowing my worth and demanding (politely) that it be recognized when I found myself completely dissatisfied with my job(s). I was working two jobs (houngans and manbos know about that hustle...) and making good money, but I was ready to work one job and free up time for spiritual work and projects.

I took a chance and applied for a job that was juuuuust within my experience. It was definitely bigger than what I was doing and while it was within my experience level, I honestly wasn't perfectly qualified....but you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, so I buffed up the resume, sent it off, and sat with my lwa about it. I told them that if this was where I was supposed to go next, I knew they would clear the way.

I didn't get it.

I made it through two rounds of interviews, but ultimately there was an incumbent with 10 more years of experience than I have, and that's almost always a losing equation. I was okay with it because I still had work and at the end of the day, I don't have to love my job to cash the paychecks.

BUT....the lwa had another plan. The team of interviewers liked me, and so I got headhunted for a position that was very, very in line with my professional experience and goals. I spoke with them several times about it and they made me an offer....and it was so low I almost rejected the offer outright.

I was both angry and scared at the same time; angry because the salary offer was ridiculously offensive based on my career history and scared because I have never been in a position to turn down a job offer or, honestly, negotiate.

This time was the first time in my life that I was planning to leave a job because I wanted to. I grew up in a upper working class home and as an adult have spent too much time jobless and underemployed to discount steady work and a regular paycheck. It was scary as hell to be staring down the possibility of kicking the steady paycheck to the side in favor of taking a step into the unknown.

When I got the offer letter, I sat down with the lwa and literally cried because I was so burned out with my other job that it was affecting my performance, but here I was getting a bullshit offer for a hugely involved job. It felt like a loss if I took it and affirmed that both my experience and what they were asking of me was only worth what they were offering. It felt like a loss if I didn't take it, because those opportunities do not come alone like that very often.

It was such a moment of unique despair. Like, I was not hurt or anything tragic but that feeling like I was painted into a corner and that the choices in front of me would leave me at a loss was HUGE and real. For me, when I feel like that it's hard for me to turn on the part if my brain that's analytical. I just need to sit in my misery for a minute (or more) until I get it together enough to figure out what to do.

That is where the blessing of Kouzen (and really all the lwa) came in. He told me to go back to the table, creat another option, and ask for my worth. Like, not swing my proverbial dick and be an asshole, but go be vulnerable and say that the offer was disappointing and that I expected more. So weird because it makes so much sense, right? And yet there I was totally sold that I was either going to be worked like a mule for less money than I was making already, or I was going to remain in The Bad Place until something else came along.

So I did. Even if I felt pessimistic about it (I did) and thought they would say no (convinced of it), I did what I was told because at the end of the day I agreed to sèvis lwa because I believe in the vision the lwa have for me. Some days I say that through gritted teeth, but that's my guiding principle and they have never let me down.

I sent in my counteroffer and waited for the 'we're sorry, but..' email. It was fucking scary. My agency is a behemoth in my field and has been around forever, so pushing back felt a little bit like David versus Goliath, and I didn't have the benefit of a sling and a rock.

It took two days but they got their offer almost to what I asked for, so I took it and it was a huge relief. I am sure that somewhere in the background Kouzen maybe did a quiet fist pump of 'Alex learned a thing' before going back to his work.

In all seriousness, that's a lesson I have struggled so hard with and it was a moment where I had to put it all into practice and rely on what the lwa have taught me as being an ultimate truth. Knowing my worth is not enough; I have to be able to communicate that in a way that both opens doors and doesn't get me used as a doormat. Not doing that seems like it would be almost offensive to Kouzen because, at least in this case, it would be essentially leaving money on the table and wasting it. My Kouzen is very rational about money, but the idea of not trying to set up my financial future makes his eyes bug out and would probably result in Having To Have A Conversation, which I avoid at all costs. Nothing like the lwa reminding you not to fuck up your own blessings.

Getting settled into this particular blessing has been what has been occupying my time the most these days. I came back from Haiti and went right into this job. I have finally clawed my way into administration and, in a very Kouzen twist, am responsible for managing several million dollars worth of grants and spending them both quickly and wisely. I work closely with the person in the position I originally interviewed for and am really happy I didn't get that job, as I am able much better fit where I am.

What else? In late January, I turned in a final draft of a chapter I was tapped to write for a book detailing the experiences of people who are converts to African Traditional and Diasporic religions. I'm excited to see the book when it comes out; I was the only writer on Haitian Vodou, and so it is chock full of other experiences from people from all different places who converted at some point in their life to a huge variety of African and African Descended religions and cultural practices. It's a project that has been in the works for several years, and it was interesting to see personal growth during my involvement in it and while tracking and detailing my journey from a fairly conservative Protestant upbringing to where I am now as a sèvitè lwa.

My living situation has changed up in the middle of this and I am once again at a point in my life where I have a dedicated space for my lwa. Living in one of the most expensive cities in the US has meant roommates and keeping my lwa in a closet in my room (my most recent roommate lovingly referred to them as the Closet People), but the lwa managed to swing it so I have a room dedicated to my spirits.

I have longing for that for so long...it's been years since that was a reality, and now it's finally a thing again. I always have the room for my lwa as my studio space too, since they are a creative force behind a lot of it, and it make my heart so full again to have room to spread out. It's such a gift for me. No more sitting down to pray and having my roommate start to have sex with their partner on the other side of the wall....I cannot tell you how many times that has happened.

Recently I listened to my mother tell some folks how to make tchaka/Kouzen's favorite meal. The regleman/ritual food is one of the most important parts of both ceremony and personal relationships with the lwa, and Kouzen reminded me that it had been quite awhile since I made him tchaka and boy his stomach would feel so much better with some tchaka in it and I already had a lot of the ingredients and wouldn't it be delicious to make some doumbrey for the tchaka too?

...so I went shopping for what I would need for tchaka for my beloved Kouzen because I have clearly neglected his stomach for too long. Living in a city with a huge Haitian population is great because the Haitian grocery store I went to had joumou/Haitian pumpkin, lalo sèk/dried jute leaves, tritri/tiny dried shrimp, djondjon/Haitian black mushrooms, fresh kowosol/soursop(!!!!!), and fresh lam veritab/breadfruit(!!!!!!!!!!).

It is so rare to find fresh kowosol and lam up here in New England because it def doesn't grow here and it doesn't last well when it's shipped....but it looked great today. The kowosol is going to be for me...ji kowosol ak lèt is a favorite, ESPECIALLY with a little Barbancourt poured in...and Kouzen will either get some tomtom or at least boiled lam veritab with his tchaka. Also have the makings of some bonbon siwo, so this husband is gonna eat GOOD. He deserves it.

And then...? Our live-on-Zoom socially distanced fet Kouzen will be sometime late in May. Making our fets available for folks to 'attend' at a distance has been surprisingly cool. I was not thrilled about the idea because of my personal hangups (I hate being on camera) but it's been really wonderful and has been a way for people who can't get to the temple to be able to share energy and get a taste of what a real Haitian fet is like. COVID isn't going away anytime soon, so we'll probably keep doing our fetes this way for awhile.

And...Haitian Summer is coming. I could write another whole post on what's going on down in Haiti, but I am very much looking forward to our kanzo and fet cycle this summer. My very favorite ceremonies are part of kanzo, and I love the opportunity to see the lwa in their home in the temple. I've been so lucky to be able to travel safely to Haiti several times during this mess, and it has fed my soul. It's safer for me and many of my family members now that we are vaccinated, so one less thing to worry about.

With Kouzen's month and the season of spring, I hope for growth in new directions for each of you, complete with all the blessings that Kouzen can bring: fertility and fecundity, inspiration, energy, commitment, rootedness, solid partnerships, and wise investments in self, community, relationships, and business ventures. May the fresh breeze bring you health with every breath and wealth with every exhale.

#vodou #haitian vodou #kouzen #kouzen zaka #azaka mede #fet kouzen #manje lwa #real vodou #voodoo

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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years

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“No One Listens” || YEAR 3 – Ch.40 (HP au)

Chapter List

<-- Last Chapter Next Chapter -->

Day posted: 2/6/2021

Word count: 2,888

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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Heather and Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey as she moved Harry into a bed next to Ron. He looked pale and there were beads of sweat trickling down his temples.

“When will he wake up?” Hermione asked.

Madam Pomfrey placed a cold towel on his forehead and sighed. “Soon I suspect. How many where there?”

“Dozens, maybe hundreds… or more…” Heather tried to count all the misty cloaks in her memory but they all morphed into one nightmare-ish cloud of anguish and torment.

“Oh dear.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head and moved onto Ron again.

Heather and Hermione sat on the chairs by Harry’s bed and waited for something to happen. Hermione seemed to be waiting for Harry and Ron to wake up, but now that Harry was safe under Madam Pomfrey’s care, Heather waited for Professor Dumbledore to show up like he always did after these events.

She would settle everything with Professor Dumbledore as soon as he arrived and save Sirius, their only chance at a better home. She and Hermione would tell him everything that happened and their reputations as good students should at least warrant an investigation into it all.

“Shocking business…” a grim voice sounded from outside the hospital wing, just barely audible enough in the quiet chamber. “Shocking…”

Heather turned and strained her hearing.

“Miracle none of them died…”

Heather turned to Hermione and whispered, “I think that’s Fudge.”

Hermione nodded. “Is he alone?”

The voice was growing louder. He must be walking down the hall towards them! Heather moved to stand at the foot of Harry’s bed, ready to face the Minister of Magic with the unbelievable truth they’d all learned tonight.

“Never heard the like… by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…”

“Thank you, Minister,” Snape said courtly.

Heather’s courage began to diminish. If Professor Snape was the one he was conversing with, then her reputation as a good student would surely be ruined if he mentioned her attack on him to Cornelius Fudge. She wondered if it was possible for her school file to transfer to a ministry file. Would her future employers be able to open up a file and know all the reasons for her detentions? Maybe she should hide again…

“Order of Merlin, Second Class, I’d say. First Class, if I can wrangle it!”

“Thank you very much indeed, Minister.” Professor Snape had never sounded more kindly.

Heather and Hermione exchanged wide-eyed looks. Although Professor Snape had done nothing for uncovering Peter Pettigrew and his whereabouts or listened to Sirius plead his innocence OR saved them all from Professor Lupin’s werewolf attack… She supposed she could look the other way, considering Harry was safe in bed next to her and not at the mercy of hundred or more soul-thirsty dementors.

“Nasty cut you’ve got there… Black’s work, I suppose?”

Her courage drained completely.

“As a matter of fact, it was the Potters.” He now sounded right on the other side of the hospital doors.

Furdge gasped. “You don’t say! Why, I wouldn’t have thought Harry to be the kind to – ”

“Black had them bewitched. I recognized it immediately. A Confundus Charm on each one, Weasley and Granger included, judging by their behavior. They seemed to believe there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren’t responsible for their actions… However, their interference might have led to more serious consequences had I not regained my consciousness in time. I believe they thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. Had their previous bad behavior not been excused, I’m sure they wouldn’t have even attempted it. They’ve gotten away with a great deal before now… I’m afraid it’s given them a rather high opinion of themselves… And of course the Potters have always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the Headmaster – I can hardly manage the girl with the boy being permitted just about anything.”

Heather closed her gaping mouth and crossed her arms. ‘Manage’? Her frown was as deep as Hermione’s. How were they to convince him if Professor Snape was going around saying they had been Confunded!

“Ah, well, Snape…. You know how it is, with Harry Potter and of course his sister… We’ve all got a bit of a blind spot where they’re concerned.”

“And yet – is it good for them to be given so much special treatment? Personally, I try to treat them like any other student. And any other student would be suspended – at the very least – for leading their friends into such dangers. Consider, Minister… against all school rules set in place for them, after all the precautions the Ministry put in place for them, they found themselves out-of-bounds, after hours, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer – and I have reason to believe they’ve been visiting Hogsmeade illegally too – ”

“Yes, yes, well… We shall see. We shall see… They have been undoubtedly foolish – ”

“Foolish. Half-witted. Irresponsible. Imprudent – ”

“They are children after all – say, you’ve really no idea what made all the dementors retreat?”

“No, Minister… By the time I had come ‘round, they were all heading back to their positions at the entrances.”

“Oh dear… Their behavior both amazes me and frightens – to be perfectly honest. You don’t think Black had commanded them in any way before he fell to their effects?”

“Trust me, Minister, Black hasn’t the skill or capacity for the knowledge. He is merely a dangerous murderer through sheer excitement for chaos and his atrocious disregard for lives. Potter is lucky to be alive. If the dementors hadn’t exhausted Black half to death – ”

Heather jumped. Was Sirius really half dead? But he wasn’t being treated in the hospital wing… Hermione looked to her with concern. She hoped Professor Snape would leave already so they could have the Minister’s ears to themselves.

“I am sure this night would have ended quite differently,” Professor Snape finished.

“Ah, you’re awake!”

Heather turned to Madam Pomfrey and saw her looking down at Harry. She was carrying the largest brick of chocolate she’d ever seen.

She took out a little wooden mallet from her nurse’s apron pocket and began crushing it on Harry’s bedside table. “Belgian dark chocolate, only used for emergencies. And don’t mind the cocoa solids if you find any, those’ll perk you right up – What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Potter?”

Harry sat up and slid his glasses up his nose. “How’s Ron?”

“He’ll live – Just one moment, Potter – ” She tried to push him back into bed but he wiggled out before she could.

“We need to see the Headmaster,” Harry said hoarsely.

“Fudge is right outside,” Heather told him. “When he comes in here we can, but first – hey!”

“Good then let’s go tell him right now.” Harry pushed passed Hermione and Heather and headed for the door.

“Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said as soothingly as possible. She had come around the bed and planted herself in his way. “It’s all right. They’ve got Black. He’s likely already locked away upstairs. The dementors should be performing the kiss any moment – ”

“WHAT?” all three of them yelled.

Madam Pomfrey angrily sushed them. “Mr. Weasley is resting – as you should be, Mr. Potter.”

The hospital doors swung open and Professor Snape and Cornelius Fudge stepped in, having heard their exclamation. Fudge didn’t look very pleased, seeing Harry out of bed and trying to get around Madam Pomfrey.

“You should be in bed, Harry.” He turned to Madam Pomfrey, “Has he had any chocolate?”

“Excuse me, Minister, please,” Heather cut in before Madam Pomfrey could drag Harry away. “Please, its important – ”

“Sirius Black is innocent,” Harry began talking over Heather. “We saw Peter Pettigrew tonight! He faked his death – we can’t let the dementors do that thing to Sirius! He’s – ”

Hermione joined in the explanation. “He was Ron’s rat, Scabbers, of course we didn’t know that – he’s an animagus you see and – ”

Fudge was shaking his head and waving his hands around, trying to halt their talking. “Harry, children – Please, you’re all very confused. This dreadful night has been far too much, hasn’t it? Let’s get you back in bed, Harry. Madam Pomfrey, please. Don’t worry, we have everything under control, children – ”

“BUT YOU HAVEN’T!” Harry yelled. “YOU”VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!”

Heather clasped her hands together pleadingly, desperate. “It’s true, please believe us, he’s innocent and Peter Pettigrew is getting away – ”

Professor Snape approached from behind Fudge’s shoulder. “See, Minister?” he whispered. “Completely confunded… Black’s done quite the job on them all.”

“NONE OF US ARE CONFUNDED!” Harry roared, throwing his arms up angrily.

“Minister! Professor! This conversation is distressing my patients and I must insist that you both leave.” Madam Pomfrey now began motioning them both away. “Mr. Potter, Miss Granger – this way to bed, please.”

“No! I’m not distressed! I’m trying to tell them what happened if they’d just listen!” Harry said furiously but Madam Pomfrey had found the perfect opportunity at the last word and stuffed a chunk of dark chocolate in his mouth.

Madam Pomfrey pulled Harry by the arm and forced him into bed. She turned back around and pointed at the door. “Now, visiting hours are over, please, Minister.”

But before Madam Pomfrey could shoo them out, the door opened and Professor Dumbledore came in, spotting them immediately.

Heather ran up to him and walked by his side as he approached the group. “Professor! Peter Pettigrew is gone – and Sirius Black is – ”

He walked on, ignoring her completely without even a look her way. Her heart dropped. Everyone was ignoring them! An innocent man was about to die and not a single person in the room was willing to hear them out!

“Headmaster, I’m trying to deliver the proper care to these students. I must insist that everyone leave so that they may calm down – ”

“Of course, Poppy, my apologies. However I do need a word with the Potters and Miss Granger for just a moment.” Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry, “I’ve just been talking to Sirius Black – ”

Professor Snape scoffed in revulsion. “And is he still telling the same fairy tale he’s planted in their minds? Something about a rat and Pettigrew being alive – ”

“That very one,” said Professor Dumbledore, regarding Professor Snape closely over his half-moon glasses.

“And does my evidence count for nothing?” Professor Snape spat. “Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him on the grounds.”

“That was because you were knocked out!” Heather said too quickly to rethink her words.

“And who’s fault was that!” he snarled.

“But it’s true,” Hermione began, sounding like she often did in class. “If you had only arrived in time to hear – ”

“Miss Granger, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

The Minister jumped at Professor Snape’s tone. “Now, Snape. They are clearly disturbed in the mind. After what happened, we must make allowances – ”

“I would like to speak to Harry, Heather, and Hermione alone,” Professor Dumbledore cut him off. “Cornelius, Severus, Poppy – Please leave us.”

“Albus! But they need rest and – ” Madam Pomfrey frowned at Professor Dumbledore’s polite smile and huffed. She marched off across the room and slammed her office door shut.

Fudge took out a large golden pocket watch from his waistcoat and consulted it. “The dementors should have arrived by now.” He looked out the window and shivered, turning back to Professor Dumbledore. “I’ll meet you upstairs.” He walked to the door and held it open for Professor Snape.

Professor Snape made no intention to leave and Fudge walked out, letting the door close on its own.

“You surely don’t believe a word of Black’s story?” Professor Snape whispered, his eyes fixed on Professor Dumbledore’s half-lidded eyes.

“I wish to speak to Harry, Heather, and Hermione alone,” Professor Dumbledore repeated politely.

Professor Snape took a step closer. “Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen,” he breathed. “You haven’t forgotten that, Headmaster? You haven’t forgotten that he once tried to kill ME?”

“My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore said quietly. He stared down at Professor Snape for several seconds until he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door louder than even Madam Pomfrey.

As soon as it turned quiet, the three of them began speaking at once.

“Sirius is telling the truth! We saw Peter Pettigrew escape – ”

“ – he’s an animagus and ran when Professor Lupin turned into a werewolf and – ”

“ – a rat with only four fingers – ”

“ – is completely innocent and it’s really Pettigrew who – ”

Professor Dumbledore pressed his finger to his lips and they immediately stopped talking.

“You three must listen very closely, and there is no time for interruptions,” he said calmly. “It is your word – the word of three thirteen year olds who have already been accused of being confunded – and the word of a convicted criminal against the Minister’s and a member of my staff – a head of house no less – with no shred of proof to discredit the street full of eyewitness accounts who swear they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the Ministry that Sirius had been the Potter’s Secret-Keeper.”

“But Professor Lupin can – ” Hermione was cut off by Professor Dumbledore’s hand held up to stop her.

“Professor Lupin is currently running deep within the forest, unable to tell anyone anything. By the time he is human again, it will have been too late for Sirius. Even if Professor Lupin could give his account to the details of tonight it would count for very little. Werewolves are deeply mistrusted by most of our kind and the fact that he and Sirius are old friends – ”

Harry was shaking his head. “But – ”

“Listen to me, Harry. It is too late for explanations. By the time you get anyone to listen to you, Sirius will be worse than dead. Professor Snape’s version of events is far more convincing than any of yours.”

“He refuses to listen because he hates Sirius!” Hermione wiped the tears that had started running down her cheek. “That’s why he refused to listen in the shack. All because of some stupid trick that Sirius played on him YEARS AGO – ”

“Sirius’ actions this year have not helped his reputation. The attack on the Fat Lady, entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife, none of those are actions of an innocent man. We would need Pettigrew, alive or dead, to have any chance at overturning Sirius’ sentence.”

Heather frowned. “But if you believe us, Professor… Can’t you – ”

Professor Dumbledore shook his head. “I have no power to make these men see the truth, or to overrule the Minister of Magic.”

Heather’s lips began to tremble as she ran out of ideas. What could they do? Their word didn’t matter. Sirius’ word didn’t matter. Professor Lupin couldn’t give his word and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. In a matter of seconds Sirius could be given the kiss and not even Professor Dumbledore could save him. Do they just give up?

She hugged herself and squeezed tight, wishing she could go back in time and act more enthusiastic about possibly living with Sirius. She regretted feeling so cautious about him and not participating in their special moment in the tunnel, godfather and godchildren reunited. “So then, what can we do? What do we do?”

Professor Dumbledore’s tone changed and he spoke very slowly, “Sirius is locked in a prison cell inside Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. To save Sirius… we’ll need – ” His eyes moved to Hermione. “more time.”

Heather stared at Hermione intensely as she pieced together what Professor Dumbledore was saying.

“But – Oh!”

Professor Dumbledore smiled. “Keep in mind, you must not be seen. Miss Granger, you know the law – and you know what’s at stake… Do – not – be – seen.” He turned on his heel and was already across the room by the time Harry had realized their conversation had ended.

“B-but what – I don’t – ” Harry sputtered.

Professor Dumbledore opened the door and looked at them over his shoulder. “I’m going to lock you in. It is – ” he pulled out a pocket watch and flipped it open, “five minutes to midnight. Three turns should do it. Good luck.”

He closed the door and a click echoed through the chamber. Harry whirled around and stared at Hermione with Heather – who was crossing her arms over her chest, still staring but with an added frown.

Hermione ignored them and pulled on a golden chain around her neck, pulling a little trinket out from under her sweater. “Come here, both of you, quick!”

Harry moved towards her and Heather was pulled into them before she could open her mouth to start her long string of complaints. Hermione threw the chain around the three of them.

“Ready?” Hermione didn’t look up at them for confirmation. She picked up the trinket – it was a tiny golden hourglass with sand that sparkled with the light – and began twisting.

Heather watched her closely. “And when were you going to tell us about – ”

At the third twist, the hospital chamber dissolved.

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

A Yandere!Shoto/Yandere!Izuku/Reader piece for a very lovely, very trusting anonymous commissioner, featuring your daily dose of Dicku, for the soul. I haven’t been very kind to the Reader-Inserts, lately, but I feel like it’s fitting. Especially when they’re caught in the middle of a relationship so... *layered*.

Word Count: 2.9k

TW: Non-Con, Male!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Groping, and Anal Sex.

Izuku didn’t want to hate Shoto.

He didn’t, he really, really didn’t. Izuku wasn’t the kind of person who could hate anyone without a good reason, and certainly not someone he’d put on such a high pedestal. He was nice, like that, a little too nice, some would say, but his patience was understandable. Shoto was a friend, after all. They’d gone through the hero-course together, graduated hand-in-hand, and spent too many nights to count training ‘till the sun rose and fighting together and being close, regardless of whatever feelings they harbored below the surface.

They’d been friends for close to ten years, now, and Izuku had known about Shoto’s crush for nine.

He’d only avoided having to acknowledge it for eight, though.

And now, as he sat on the other side of Shoto’s desk, overlooking the city through seamless, crystal-clear windows, he wasn’t able to shake the feeling of those heterochromatic eyes boring into him, unwavering and unyielding, regardless of how many nervous smiles Izuku put on during their ‘meeting’. Shoto was always cold, the quieter of the pair, and Izuku really didn’t mind. He liked being the one to fill the silence, he enjoyed it, but this was too tense, too rigid for him to fill. Luckily, Shoto seemed to sense his discomfort, taking up the mantle of conversation. Even if Izuku wasn’t exactly grateful for his choice in subject matter. “I’m not an idiot, Midoriya,” He started, bluntly. “Neither are you. We should both know why we’re here.”

Izuku forced a friendly grin, leaning back in his stiff, industrial chair. Maybe his next contract with the Todoroki Agency would include a clause that called for more comfortable furniture. “Because there’s a new group of villains planning an uprising, and we’ve got to use the power of our friendship to bring them down?”

“This is serious,” Shoto countered, but a flush was still spreading across his pale skin. As it seemed to more and more, these days. “You know about my feelings. I know you don’t feel the same way-” Lies, lies, lies. Shoto knew, but like hell he accepted it. Izuku couldn’t count on both hands how many times he’d caught Shoto gritting his teeth when he brought up a mutual friend, or how Shoto always seemed to find himself in the possession of one too many seats at a gala. Still, he let Shoto continue unimpeded. “-but you can’t do what you’re planning to with (Y/n).”

Oh, that got Izuku’s attention.

You

You’d just been one of Shoto’s sidekicks, at first, a young Support Hero just out of Shiketsu Academy. Useless in any meaningful fight, but you were good with damage control, something Shoto was desperately in need of. And yet, you were more than that, so much more. You were adorable, and caring, and so helpless, just thinking about how vulnerable you’d be in a serious fight made Izuku’s heart skip a beat. The two of you weren’t close yet, sure, but that could change, it would change as soon as Izuku got a minute alone with you. He’d tried before, catching you during your patrols and offering to walk you home (he already had your address, but it’d be nice of you to offer it willingly), but your employer always got in the way, so protective, so jealous. The latter more than the former.

Izuku huffed, slouching back. “And why is that, Todoroki?”

He averted his eyes as Shoto glared, wondering if you’d be in the office, today. “You… you can’t, what else do you need to know? He’s been working with me for less than a year, you barely know him. It’s one thing to reject me, but you can’t reject me, then turn around and go after a…” Shoto trailed off, fingertips starting to drum against the wooden surface. “It’s wrong. More established Heroes have been taken down for smaller crimes. If you cared about the Number One Hero’s reputation, you’d stop.”

Izuku didn’t want to stop. Why couldn’t anyone see that? Izuku was in love, and he found his soulmate and why couldn’t anyone be happy for him? Shoto was just being unfair, everyone was being unfair. Maybe when he got you away for all of this, from the city and the agencies and smothering office politics, things would be different. He was sure it’d be easier, after he could work past the obstacles blocking your happy ending.

But, hopeful thinking alone wouldn’t get rid of those obstacles. They were still standing tall and glaring at Izuku over a small stack of paperwork.

Luckily, Izuku was always talented when it came to overcoming adversity.

“Don’t be so negative.” His smile was renewed, the slightest hints of something genuine pulling at the corners of his lips. “It’d be a real shame if we couldn’t come to a compromise, wouldn’t it?”

You weren’t afraid to say you didn’t like being alone with Izuku.

Not to say anything against him - you had the utmost admiration for Deku. He’d been your motivation while you were going through the Hero Course, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to pass by his frequent merch releases without a lengthy consideration of the merits of a few more figurines. Sure, you worked under Shoto, and you were much closer to him than you’d ever care to be to Izuku, but you didn’t look up to him in the same way you did with Deku. You were Deku’s biggest fan, you admired Deku, you respected Deku.

But, you weren’t so fond of the man behind the mask.

He stood too close. It wasn’t the biggest problem, but it unnerved you, making you flinch as he stepped into the elevator you’d caught less than a minute ago, too busy smiling and staring to notice the metallic doors that nearly closed around his ankle. You did your best to return the gesture, stepping to the side and giving him space as you reached for the panel of buttons. He reached too, resting a hand on his shoulder, laughing as he pretended not to have noticed you were doing the same. “Todoroki’s office, right, (Y/n)?”

He used your name, too. Never your alias or your title, only the given name you never told him. You still haven’t figured out how he’d learned it. “Right,” You confirmed, politely. “I just want to make sure he doesn’t need any help before I leave for the day.”

You’d just gotten off patrol, and judging by his minimized get-up, he had too. His familiar green and black body-suit was still in-tact, but his face-guard and gloves had been left behind, his utility belt also noticeably absent. You didn’t bother asking why he was there, you didn’t want to know.

“Todoroki works his sidekicks hard, huh?” He asked, unprompted. His hand was still on your shoulder. “Maybe you should come over to my agency. A sweetheart like you would be a lot of help around the office…” He trailed off, but corrected himself quickly. “For morale, of course.”

You wondered how long this ride was going to take. “I like working here, sir.”

He chuckled, at that. Ingenuine and over-enthusiastic, the kind of laugh you wouldn’t be able to stand if it was coming from anyone else. That was another thing, everything you said was hilarious, to Izuku. “You’ve only worked here,” He whined. He was rubbing circles just above your collarbone, now, and you wished you chose a thicker uniform. Spandex worked best with your quirk, but it did little to separate the heat of Izuku’s fingers from your skin. “If you were with me, I’d make sure you know you’re appreciated.”

You took half a step back, trying to make your discomfort clear. Izuku took forward, closing the small distance you’d created easily. “I don’t want credit,” You assured him. “Todoroki’s success is enough.”

Izuku didn’t seem to like that. One moment, you were glaring at the tile, and the next you were being shoved against the mirrored wall, your back colliding harshly with the reflective surface and Izuku appearing in front of you, an arm coming up to stabilize him and its twin dropping to your waist, effectively trapping you between the elevator wall and his chest. His smile was still in place, but it was stretched, forced, his expression only growing more disturbing as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, that same fucking grin pushing against your jugular. You shifted uncomfortably, shoving at his chest, but if Izuku noticed, he didn’t seem deterred, only moving to wedge his knee between yours, keeping your feet apart. You couldn’t be sure why, but you had a feeling you wouldn’t like the explanation.

“You’re such a good boy,” Izuku said, voice steady and patronizing. He squeezed at your hip playfully, but his attention drifted quickly, fingertips brushing over your thigh before moving inward, in no particular rush to claim territory. You shuddered as he kissed your neck, sucking and biting at whatever he could get to, but your discomfort was swiftly eclipsed by the complete, all-consuming dread that flowed into your veins as Izuku’s palm ground into your crotch, pressing down for a moment before he took to tracing the outline of your cock. The sensation was stifled by layers of fabric, but unignorable, Izuku’s determination making up for any limitations he might’ve faced. “Todoroki doesn’t appreciate you, not in the way you should be appreciated. I’m gonna fix that, alright? And you’ll forget all about that creepy, sociopathic pervert by the time I’m done.”

You opened your mouth to contest, but Izuku didn’t give you the chance, forcing his lips sloppily against yours in the bastardization of a kiss. It was too forceful to be one, too rough, too insistent without any of the cautious, hesitant care a real lover would have. Meanwhile, the hand on your cock groped and squeezed carelessly, as if he was more focused on the actions themselves than the effect they had. The resulting pleasure was brutal, apathetic, frigid as it entered your system, never wavering despite your attempts to stave it off. You were hard by the time Izuku got bored, his lips moving to your shoulder and his nails digging into the fabric over your hip, latching onto your uniform and tearing, forming a jagged, uneven rip, only lengthened as he wrenched his side upward.

That was what got to you, really, the sound, the feeling of his skin on yours as he worked at shredding your clothes beyond recognition. You crumpled, slightly, letting out a small whimper as the utter misery of your reality set in, but Izuku only cooed, pecking at your jaw in a fruitless attempt to comfort you. “It’ll be alright, angel. I’ll make this good for you.”

As if on cue, the elevator doors slid open, and Izuku glanced over his shoulder absentmindedly. Shoto stepped into the small space immediately, his eyes narrowed and a grimace tugging at the corners of his mouth, but hope flooded into your chest regardless, unwilling to yield to your common sense. You shoved at Izuku, moving to call out to him, but you didn’t need to. He was already walking towards you, his hands balling into fists and latching onto Izuku’s collar as soon as he was close enough, jerking him back and…

And kissing him.

You could’ve ran. You could’ve made a break for the fire escape or thrown yourself through the nearest window, but you didn’t. Your knees buckled under your weight, your body slumping forward as you took in Shoto’s brutal form of affection. It was more shocking than anything. Confusion, about their relationship and your own, hysteria around the thought of what was going to happen next, but you were beyond the point of trying to guess. All you could do was watch as Izuku pushed at Shoto’s shoulders, separating him from his counterpart begrudgingly. “Later,” He promised, Shoto’s glare sharpening. “You already got your turn. You promised I could have (Y/n), first.”

You clenched your eyes shut, pulling your knees to your chest, but it didn’t make a difference. You were nothing compared to Izuku, compared to Deku, and your form was hauled off the floor easily, thrown over his shoulder and left to writhe and struggle as he dragged you into Shoto’s office. It was just as neat as it always was, professional and sterile, but you couldn’t find security in the suspended modern art and coffee mugs Shoto always forgot to take home. You tried to, momentarily, to lock onto something and let it absorb you, but your attempts were made futile by the clatter of pens and folders hitting the floor as Izuku cleared off Shoto’s desk with one arm, using the other to all-but throw you down, your chest hitting the tabletop with a muffled thud. Your wrists were caught behind your back in a matter of seconds, leaving you pinned and helpless under Izuku’s weight.

The tears only started as Izuku stripped you of what was left of your uniform, hooking a finger under the waistband of your compression shorts and dragging them downward, letting the fabric pool around your ankles. You heard something unzip, and Izuku’s own costume fell away, too. You might’ve been curious, a few days ago, spared a glance or two, but he wasn’t pawing at your ass a few days ago. “Lube?” He asked, talking to no one in particular. Shoto just nodded to one of the drawers under his desk, and Izuku opened it, evaluating the contents with a long, low whistle. “You’ve been stocking up for this, haven’t you?”

Shoto didn’t respond, but his eyes never left Izuku. You had a feeling they wouldn’t, anytime soon.

Izuku took his time coating two fingers with oily fluid, as if he didn’t have anything better to do. He was just as lethargic as he probed at your entrance, his movements measured, planned, Izuku drinking in your reactions as he scissored you open, pulling a ragged moan from your lips. He wasn’t aiming for your pleasure, that much was obvious, but the thought of being opened up for one of your idols, stretched apart for someone you’d admired for so long… The idea sent a sickening, begrudging stroke of electricity to your cock, and Izuku seemed to feel it too, his hips bucked impatiently against your ass.

There were so many sensations, you almost couldn’t tell when his patience gave out, his fingers pulling away and something bigger, something hotter replacing them. If he planned on acknowledging his minimal preparation, he didn’t make a show of it, thrusting into you harshly and refusing to stop until he was completely hilted. The intrusion tore a wordless, pitiful whimper from your throat, the sound short-lived but painfully audible. You tried to bite your lip, to silence yourself as Izuku started moving, but it was too late. His chest pressed against your back as he ground into you, pelvis snapping against yours in tiny, feverish ruts, as if he’d been waiting for this too long to go about it thoughtfully. He didn’t try to be delicate, he couldn’t be delicate, letting your wrist go in favor of taking your hips, his fingers burrowing into your skin in a bruising hold. The small freedom didn’t make a difference, not when the only thing you could think to do with your hands was brace them on the desk, keeping yourself stabilized despite Izuku’s attempts to topple your control. It hurt, the way he pounded into you, your occasional tear becoming an unrelenting, unfaltering onslaught of cries and sobs as he abused your hole, your prostate, everything he could get his hands on - all of it hurt. “Please… please stop,” You gasped, more out of instinct than anything. “Stop, you have to stop-”

He silenced you with a wet kiss to the nape of your neck, a hum soon strangled by a grunt. “Poor baby,” He whispered, the words stifled by your skin. “Bear with me, alright? You’ll feel good, too. My angel just has to bear with me.”

You hadn’t noticed Shoto moving, not until he was standing in front of you, less than an arm’s length away and supporting himself on the edge of the desk. There was a low whine as he entangled his unoccupied fingers in Izuku’s hair, dragging the man forward and catching him in a kiss, demanding and fervid but soft, barely there, pecks and nips that barely fazed Izuku’s pursuit to slam into you. Shoto’s goal was an affectionate one, driven by the want for attention and little else. It was innocent, in its simplicity, Something you could’ve seen yourself doing, with Shoto.

Something you used to want to see yourself doing, with Shoto.

You clenched around Izuku without thinking, your end approaching like the sudden drop of a cliffside. His cock twitched, his pace stuttering and losing rhythm, and Shoto gave him the space needed to lean against you, to keen and mummer nonsensical praises into your back. A fist closed around your cock, pumping in time with his uneven thrusts. How generous.

Your climax was a sobering one. You seized up, your body going stiff as you jolted against Izuku’s hand, hot jets of cum soon staining your stomach and Shoto’s carpet. Izuku barely lasted a second longer, filling you to the brim and refusing to pull out, letting the excess drip around his cock and onto your thighs, the sensation making you choke on whatever air was left in your lungs.

Izuku only panted, taking a deep breath before kissing your cheek. The gesture was almost loving.

Almost.

“We’re going to be so happy together.” His voice was heavy, but contented. For the moment, at least. “Me and you, just me and you. Everything’ll be perfect, once I get rid of everything trying to keep us apart.”

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brianc521 · 4 years

Text

Dress | CEO Peter

You hadn’t totally planned on stopping by the office after your lunch with the designer, but you’re feeling really stressed and need a moment with your man.

“Miss L/n,” Stan, Peter’s office assistant stands abruptly when he sees you exit the elevator.

“Hi Stan.” You smile, starting to walk past him.

“He’s on a call.” Stan blurts, trying to halt you.

“Good for him.” You grin, pushing your way through the heavy glass door that leads to Peter’s office.

“No William it’s not happening.” Peter’s stern CEO voice fills the room, and the latch of the door is what gets him to turn around. His eyes go wide at the sight of you and he rubs a hand over his face.

He’s been pacing the length of his floor to ceiling windows, earpiece in as he runs this call.

“William I need to call you back...No, shred it.” With that he hangs up, looking up at you. “Kitten.” He acknowledges.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.” You stand close to the door, suddenly feeling very small. “I just um, I can go, you’re busy.”

His eyes go soft when he notices your demeanor. “Hey,” He reaches out for you, catching your elbow before you can open the door. “Look at me.” He tilts your face up. “I’m never too busy for you, you know that. What’s the matter?”

“I’m stressed out.” You whine, leaning into him.

“What happened? I thought you were meeting with the wedding planner and then the designer?”

“I did, and it’s stressing me out. One’s telling me we need to have our invite list done by tonight, and the others telling me I need to give up cake and cut down on my coffee.”

He grins a little, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer into him. “Why do you need to give up cake? Is this designer trying to get me killed?”

“Because the size of my dress I am is supposedly too big.”

“Says who?” He pulls back, eyebrow raised. “I’d like to speak to this designer.”

“No Peter, it’s okay, it’s just a few months.”

“No fuck that. You aren’t gonna do anything you don’t want to do. We’ll hire a new designer, I’ll come to the consult. I love the way you look right now, I don’t want you to change. Especially if you don’t want to.”

“I mean losing weights never a bad thing, but I really love cake.”

Peter pecks your lips, “Then don’t worry about it, we’ll fix it.”

You rest against his chest, cheek pressed against his tie. “You make me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do.” He squeezes you tighter. “You make me feel better too.”

You gasp and smack his back when his hands slide down and grab a handful of your butt. He smirks into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You still stressed Kitten?”

“Mhm.” You hum, blushing when he turns you away from the wall of glass that leads to his reception.

He hits a button on his desk that drops dark black blinds down the windows, blocking the view of anyone seeing in.

“Stan.” He says into the intercom.

“Yes sir.”

“Hold my calls, and push my meeting with William back by 15 minutes.”

“Yes sir.” Stan agrees.

With that settled Peter pulls you closer, sitting back in his chair and tugging you to straddle his lap. “How’s my wife doing?” He looks up, lengthy lashes curled up and giving him an innocent boy look.

“M’not your wife yet.”

“To me you are.” He fingers with the diamond on your hand. While holding your left hand with his right, his left hand wanders up your skirt. His rough hand slides up the smooth skin of the inside of your thigh, eyes widening when he doesn’t find any underwear.

“No panties?” His ghostly voice caught in his throat. “Naughty girl Kitten.”

You bite your lip when his index finger rubs at your already wet slit.

“You’re wet Kitten.” He raises an eyebrow. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.”

“Who?” He leans closer.

“You Daddy.” You breathe out, arching into his chest when he inserts his finger.

“Mm,” He nods, pumping slowly. “You’re warm too.”

You suck in your breath, trying to stay quiet, knowing he has workers and clients right outside his door.

“Gonna be good for me Kitten? Gonna stay quiet?”

“Yes.”

“What was that?”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll be good.”

“Good girl.” He kisses under your jaw, sucking your sweet skin into his mouth.

He switches between one and two fingers, keeping you surprised and constantly hiding moans. He can tell you’re getting close, but need just a little help pushing over the edge, so he adjusts. He tucks his elbow in closer, allowing better leverage, pushing in deeper now.

You tug at his hair when his thumb makes contact with your clit. Your legs have started to shake, thighs squeezing tighter against his own.

“Gonna cum Kitten?” His voice audibly deeper, huskier.

“Mhm.”

“What do you say?” He inquires, starting to move his fingers faster.

You’re breathing heavily, the softest whimpers running past your lips. There's a light sheen of sweat on your brow, and his jacket will probably have indents from your grip on his shoulders.

“Can I,” You squeal a bit when touches that one spot deep inside you. “Can I cum?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Daddy can I cum? Please let me cum.” You beg, that feeling running down your spine.

“Cum for Daddy.” He growls, nipping your skin as you freeze, arching into him, holding on for dear life.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Holy fuck.”

He grins, loves to watch you fall apart, make a mess of his fingers.

“Good girl.” He slips his fingers out of you, raising them to his lips and sucking your taste away. “Delicious.”

You roll your eyes, trying to catch your breath as he gloats about his achievement. “My turn?” You ask, palming his dick through his slacks.

“Catch me later.” He taps your ass, signaling you to stand.

“What?” You stare at him.

“I have a meeting Kitten.” He looks at you, and then checking the time quickly.

“But, are you kidding?”

“Are you feeling better?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Yeah, now let me help you.” You whine.

“Kitty.” He hums softly. “If you need me to stay because you’re still stressing then I’ll cancel, but if you want me to stay to return the favor then no. That’s not how this works. It might have started as an eye for an eye, but we’re not like that anymore. I just wanted to make you feel better, I don’t expect anything in return.”

“But I want too.” You pout at him, receiving a kiss on the lips.

“Tonight.” He grips your thighs.

“Okay.”

“I really have to go, I’m already late.” He grins, rubbing his nose back and forth against yours.

“Oh.” You suddenly remember where you are, starting to jump to action.

“No.” He whines this time. Locking his arms around you. “Stay for a minute more Kitty.”

“Peter you’re late.”

“But I’m also the boss.” He looks up at you, blinking slowly. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” You nod. “How can I not be, Peter Mendes is my husband.”

At this he beams, surging up to kiss you fiercely.

His intercom buzzes, making him groan and hide his face in your cleavage. You laugh as he bites at the flesh, ignoring the buzzing.

You reach over. “Yes Stan?”

“Oh,” He responds. “Miss L/n, Mr. Mendes is needed in conference room A and Ella Jones is on line one.”

“Who’s Ella Jones?” Peter looks over.

“That’s my designer.” You sigh.

He presses onto line one in a hurry, setting the call on speaker.

“Mr. Mendes?”

“Miss. Jones.”

“You said to call with the expenses, with what we drew up today I am estimating-”

“Hold on to that Miss. Jones, we’ve decided to work with someone else.”

“Excuse me?” She screeches. “That’s not what we discussed today.”

“Today you discussed my wife’s weight, and caffeine intake? I’m not appreciative of anyone who makes my wife feel insecure, especially those who will be dressing her. With that said, I’ve terminated your employment and wish you the best in the future, but you won’t be making my wife’s dress.”

“Mr.Mend-” With that Peter hangs up, looking up to you with a shrug.

“Problem solved, I’ll call Shawn after my meeting and see if he can send over Tiff’s information. You’ve always liked her style and when she dressed you for the Grammy’s last year you were absolutely divine. I trust her.”

“Who are you?” You stare at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

He stares at you with a confused face. “I don’t understand your question.”

“I walk in here and you’re having a verbal smackdown on the phone, that quickly turns into my soft Petey, that then transforms into a Daddy, back to my Petey for a moment, then wrapping the circle with verbal smackdowns on the phone. You amaze me.”

“I’m glad I amaze you Kitten. I can’t wait to blow your mind tonight at home.” He grins, helping you stand. While he gets ready for his meeting you rearrange yourself he can’t help but smile at what you’ve just said.

“Well Mr. Mendes.” You say as you stand by the door, watching the blinds slowly rise. Peter looks to you, that fire still in his eyes. “I can’t wait to blow you tonight at home.”

His eyes darken and he’s about to respond as you duck out of his office, scurrying to the floor.

“She’s trouble.” He laughs to himself. “Stan?” He pokes his head out of his office. “We’ll be calling her Mrs. Mendes from now on.”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes blurb #shawnmendes #shawnmendes imagine #shawnmendes fluff #shawnmendes smut #shawnmendes angst #shawnmendes blurb #peter #peter mendes #petermendes #peter mendes imagine #petermendes imagine #ceo peter #ceo smut

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smiting-finger · 4 years

Text

HP AU Headcanons

I just noticed that I’ve hit 500 followers ( ?! omg you guys!! (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄), so I cleaned up and expanded on some of my HP AU headcanons from the AO3 comments section.

Things that happen before fic #1

During the War, Wei Wuxian has at least ten different balls in the air, trying to keep the innocent Wen children (+elderly) from Jin Guangshan, including:

The Stygian Tiger Seal,

Becoming an Animagus (which no one knows about, and tbh he was hoping for something more combat-useful than a bunny, but hey, at least he’s not a dog),

Inferi (so many dead bodies lying around, and their ex-inhabitants aren’t using them, so he may as well--)

ANIMAL Inferi (because a bitch cannot be picky when a bitch has no army), but he mostly abandons the idea after the first few battles because if you’re looking to enchant things to work as an army, it’s easier to enchant 1000 of the same shape of thing than to enchant 3 each of 257 different things with different shapes, sizes and capabilities

Booby-trapping the fuck out of Yiling with:

Various blood arrays (ranging from magical versions of “surprise!-now-you’re-in-a-net-hanging-out-of-a-tree” and “surprise!-you’ve-fallen-into-a-hidden-hole” to “surprise!-now-your-head-is-gone”)

A man-eating tomb inspired by Nie Huaisang’s ancestral tomb, possibly made possible by an ancestral blade that Wei Wuxian pilfered “borrowed” from said ancestral tomb,

A magical oubliette - key to the storyline!

He was intending to stash the Stygian Tiger Seal in here to stop Jin Guangshan getting at it, because Jin Guangshan would either:

Fail to get in

Get in but fail to get out

Wei Wuxian either stocks the oubliette with necessities-for-life, or leaves enough loopholes in the spellwork so that anyone trapped in there would be able to access necessities-for-life (despite not being able to magic themselves out) because: 1) What if someone accidentally falls in, and 2) Although he’d be okay with Jin Guangshan dying, in the ideal outcome of his grand plan, they need him alive for Wizengamot trials, etc.

The plan is perfect, except that Jin Guangshan catches him in the act of stashing the seal, and in the ensuing struggle, Wei Wuxian gets himself (and the seal, thankfully) trapped.

(So he gives himself a pat on the back for making the oubliette liveable - “Thanks, past-me.”)

During the ten years, Wei Wuxian works on the magical equivalent of digging a hole out of a stone prison with a single spoon (slowly working on loosening various parts of his containment spells or trying to find a way to send a message to the outside world via his food-and-air loopholes), and also works on some other hobby projects in his spare time because the going is slow. To his credit, he’s actually almost got it by the time Nie Huaisang stumbles on his notes and gets him out.

In the meantime, Jin Guangshan has died, and Jin Guangyao has taken over his father’s:

position as Minister of Magic;

search for the Stygian Tiger seal.

Either because he’s looking for the Stygian Tiger seal, or because he’s noticed Nie Huaisang skirting a little too close to the truth behind his brother’s death and is following him, he stumbles upon Nie Huaisang freeing Wei Wuxian.

[Insert duelling]

Wei Wuxian gets wounded by a curse, turns into a rabbit when Jin Guangyao isn’t looking, flees into the forest and ends up at Gusu.

He never plans to try to cross the ward perimeter, but then he gets noticed by the dog...

Things that happen during fic #1

Once in Gusu, Wei Wuxian’s plan is to recover from the curse and then go back to have it out with Jin Guangyao.

His initial reason for not doing a “surprise!” reveal to Lan Wangji is that he’s not actually clear on what LWJ’s opinion of him as Yiling Patriarch is - i.e. what if it gets him turned in to the Ministry, the tender mercies of Jin Guangyao and a Wizengamot that’s Jin-controlled and/or already decided that Wei Wuxian is guilty?

(Lan Wangji blames himself for this: “a boy who would not accept his help because Lan Zhan failed to clearly tell him what he was offering.”)

His reasons for still not doing a “surprise!” reveal to Lan Wangji after 1) spending time with him, 2) spending time with the WWX-shaped hole in his life and 3) finally Getting It are that:

He also Gets that everyone and their dog (lul) already Get That, too

Jin Guangyao knows Wei Wuxian is at large, which therefore makes Lan Wangji suspect numero uno on the list of People Who Would Hide Wei Wuxian

(Wei Wuxian is proven 100% in the right regarding this when Jin Guangyao comes knocking for control over the Academy and Lan Wangji acts in precisely the way he does)

If Wei Wuxian is caught, he can at least keep Lan Wangji safe if Veritaserum shows that he actually knew nothing

He does, however, secretly change back at least twice to:

Talk to Lan Wangji while he’s asleep;

Break out of Lan Wangji’s rooms to go roaming around the school.

As soon as Wei Wuxian is recovered, he goes off to fight Jin Guangyao on his turf (before Jin Guangyao can come back to Gusu and try again).

Unfortunately, this coincides precisely with Jin Guangyao coming back to Gusu and trying again - they out-manoeuvre each other and each ends up at the other’s base.

Wei Wuxian is the first one to realise what’s happened and rushes back.

Being unconscious, Lan Wangji misses out on:

Nie Huaisang bringing out his vast stores of proof in re: the Jin machinations behind his brother’s death (and incidentally, his discovery of Wei Wuxian)

Jin Guangyao being bound and arrested by non-corrupt Aurors in front of Lan Xichen, the previously-Imperius-ed Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, the retrieved-from-hiding teachers/students/Lan elders

Wei Wuxian taking advantage of this audience to be like “Now all of Gusu knows you’re evil!”

Wei Wuxian being proven to therefore be not (that) evil after all.

Especially given that the larger part of the jury is now from the generation who had their youth consumed by/were greatly changed by the War, and who mostly agree that the Jins shitting on the innocent Wens was kind of gross anyway (as represented by Lan Xichen).

Things that happen after fic #1

Wei Wuxian falls into teaching because:

During his ten years of being trapped, he invented some really neat magical things

Nothing better to do

Don’t want to leave Lan Wangji just yet (or: lol just try prying yourself out of the deathgrip Lan Wangji is using to metaphorically clutch you to his manly chest, I dare you)

Or rather, he hangs around because of the above, and then Lan Wangji helps him to demo something in class, and he’s like “Sure!”. And then Lan Xichen sees this and is like “hey can you help me demo something too”, and he’s like “Sure!” and -

(And then after this goes on a while, Lan Qiren is like “IF YOU’RE GONNA HANG AROUND AND EAT OUR FOOD YOU MAY AS WELL EARN YOUR KEEP” and also “WE MAY AS WELL PUT YOU ON PAYROLL TO AVOID EMPLOYMENT LAW VIOLATIONS AND ALSO FOR TAX PURPOSES”.)

Wei Wuxian totally enters his first class as a rabbit, and sits on the desk, nodding to each student as they come in. And then when everyone’s present, he stands on his hind legs like he’s going to teach as a rabbit, too, just to see what the students will do.

(If Jin Ling is in that class, the answer is: riot)

Lan Wangji is the kind of Professor who’s consistently a hard-arse because:

He wants to push you, as a student, to reach your full potential; and

He wants you, as a student, to have clear/consistent expectations to work and grow within.

On the other hand, Wei Wuxian is the kind of Professor who’s like “Everything is lalala” during term, and then suddenly the exam is diabolical, made up of 70% lateral-thinking/problem-solving and only 30% of things you actually studied because “That’s real life, kids.”

Now that Lan Wangji knows he’s the rabbit, Wei Wuxian uses his powers to do really dumbshit things like

Perve on Lan Wangji in the shower (Lan Wangji looks down, sees a little black nose under the cubicle door and is like “...”)

Perve on Lan Wangji while he’s changing in their room (Lan Wangji pulls off his shirt, sees a little black nose peeking out from under the bed, is like “...” and drops the shirt straight onto the rabbit’s head)

Upskirt Lan Wangji through his robes (Lan Xichen sees a little black shape running behind his brother in the halls, constantly darting forward to peek under the hem of his flowing robe and is like “...”)

Other things

When Lan Sizhui is five or six or something, he enters a stage of ultimate Lan-Wangji-hero-worship, where he dresses like his dad and follows him around, doing everything he does. So:

Lan Wangji sweeps down the school hallway, one arm in front and one arm behind (in true Chinese Gentleman Style), and a tiny Lan Sizhui follows behind, running slightly to keep up but also holding the same arm in front and the same arm behind.

Lan Wangji stops to look up at the moon, Lan Sizhui also stops to look up at the moon. Lan Wangji nods at students/his brother/a fellow teacher/his uncle, and tiny Lan Sizhui does the same, all the while darting little upwards glances at Lan Wangji to make sure he’s doing it right.

The students/Lan Xichen/teachers/Lan Qiren think this is adorable (”The Little Professor has graced me with his approval ;A;!”), so no one says anything in case Lan Sizhui gets self-conscious and stops.

And then before he knows it, Lan Sizhui has picked up all the things as habits and welp, this is who he is now.

In re: Wen Ning:

All the years Wei Wuxian is gone, with it being common knowledge that the Wen clan was completely wiped out in the War, Wen Ning thinks he’s alone and mostly wanders the Wizarding world by himself (not daring to go anywhere too populous in case he alarms people, but helping anyone he stumbles across if they’re in need - without being seen, if he can manage it).

Then Wei Wuxian comes back, and with him is Sizhui, and Wen Ning thinks, “Oh, I’m not alone! I have one family member and one friend!”

But actually, all the Gusu students have already adopted him, so he has an entire school of family, he just doesn’t know it yet.

One afternoon the students catch him playing two-man Quidditch with Wei Wuxian as goalie, and are like “!!! Why didn’t we think of that?!” so now Wen Ning plays in all the casual games, and the students fight over who gets to have them on their team.

In re: Mianmian:

Mianmian spends the years following the War as a wandering cursebreaker, disarming all the nasty magical mines/traps/offensive spells that now litter the country, helping magical folk who don’t have enough skill/expertise to deal with the problems themselves, as well as any hapless muggles who get unwittingly caught.

She probably meets her husband when she saves him from something.

She becomes a teacher after Lan Xichen finds out about her exploits and invites her to come back.

When her muggle husband comes to visit her workplace, he’s like “So this is where you grew up. Wow.” and he’s not even amazed by the magic, it’s that he picked the same day that Jiang Cheng came to visit Jin ling, so a rabbit shoots down the hallway and up Lan Wangji’s robes, a dog goes chasing after it, a shouting purple man goes charging after that (firing spells and yelling for Wei Wuxian to “COME BACK HERE!”), while being half-held back by a ... ghost? and it’s total bedlam.

And Mianmian is just like “Yup.”

#CQL #The Untamed #HP AU #Wangxian #陈情令，魔道祖师，#not-fic #mo dao zu shi

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sineala · 4 years

Text

The Old Guard

This post comes to you courtesy of the generous support of one of my Patreon patrons, who wanted to know what I thought of The Old Guard. This post contains some spoilers for both the movie and the comics.

So, a few days after it came out, my wife and I watched The Old Guard on Netflix. Tumblr had said a bunch of good things about it, and both of us basically cut our fannish teeth on Highlander fandom so we already had an automatic buy-in for a story about immortals. I knew it was based on a comic by Greg Rucka, but I had not, at the time, read the comic, although I am now reading it in order to write this post.

The premise of the film is as follows: a four-person team of immortals (Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker) makes a living hiring themselves out as mercenaries, fighting for causes that they believe are right. They are successful at this basically because their grasp of tactics appears to be (1) die, followed by (2) come back to life and (3) murder your attackers who are no longer paying attention to you because they think you're dead. Honestly, at this point, you wouldn't really need to be very good at the actual fighting part, I would think, but the film establishes that all of them are -- especially Charlize Theron as Andy -- because presumably it wants you to watch action sequences of everyone being badass, which they are. So, yeah. They take all the good-guy mercenary jobs that no one else can do because it would kill them, which is not a problem for them!

Anyway! The group's routine is interrupted by two major events: the discovery of Nile Freeman, a new immortal, who is a Marine serving in Afghanistan who survives getting murdered; and also the fact that one of their employers, Copley (played by Chiwetel Eijofor, whom you may remember as Mordo in Doctor Strange) has sold them out to the movie's Actual Villain, a Big Pharma CEO named Merrick (played by the guy who played Dudley in the Harry Potter series), who has (as far as I can tell) been given instructions to play this role just like he's Martin Shkreli, who is interested in finding the secret of their immortality, and whom you can tell is evil because he has his name in giant letters on the side of his building.

ME: Look, it's the villain! I've found the villain! MY WIFE: Other than Tony Stark, who actually puts their names on buildings like that except villains? It's just villains, right? ME: Uh. The president? The president definitely does that. (We make horrified faces at each other.)

Because we are Extremely Pedantic, we also spent a lot of time picking at how the characters' names and language abilities match up to their stated background. They all know a lot of languages, as you might expect, and the movie was determined to get through them without subtitles, which is an interesting choice but also kind of left some linguistic plot holes.

For example, Joe and Nicky claim to have met each other in the Crusades, with Nicky as (presumably) a Crusader and Joe as (presumably) a Muslim occupant of the area, although the movie doesn't specify this; Wikipedia gives Joe's name as Yusuf Al-Kaysani, which would at least fit that. Nicky is clearly Italian (as is Luca Marinelli, the actor who portrays him) and when he speaks Italian to the rest of the group we see that he definitely speaks modern Italian as spoken in Rome... which is absolutely, definitely not the language he grew up speaking, given that, among other things, Wiki lists the character's full name as Nicolò di Genova. I don't know if the writer of the screenplay (who I see now is also Greg Rucka) didn't know how much Italian dialects had changed in the last thousand years, if he thought that was good enough to be a nod to the character, or if there's some kind of backstory that didn't make it in where every so often Nicky decides to learn a modern dialect and keep his hand in, and also decides that that's the language he wants to use among his friends who would presumably understand several different dialects.

Also, the reveal that Andy's real name was in fact "Andromache of Scythia" was indeed badass but was slightly undercut by my wife yelling BUT THE SCYTHIANS DIDN'T SPEAK GREEK at the television.

Additionally, I feel like the movie could perhaps have been aware of the ways it chose to label on-screen locations, in which the countries were spelled out in large fonts with the cities above them. Places like LONDON, ENGLAND got their entire names spelled out, as did small French villages whose names I can no longer remember, but I guess AFGHANISTAN and MOROCCO and SOUTH SUDAN have zero cities, huh? However, the end of the movie did take place in PARIS which I guess unlike London is its own country now.

So the actual plot features the group of immortals trying to explain this whole immortality thing to Nile while being on the run from the people who are trying to turn them into Big Pharma, who wants to capture them and exploit the secret of their immortality. This is where it falls down a little for me, because the worldbuilding... gets a little shaky. They dream about each other when they're apart. Okay. Why? Sometimes they just stop being immortal and lose the capacity to heal and are dead in their next battle. Why? Why do they even exist? I just... wanted more answers than the movie gave me, and the pacing where I kept expecting there to be explanations wasn't there. There were a couple of scenes where Nile sat there in silence contemplating the fact that she would outlive her loved ones and my brain kept trying to insert Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever?" Granted, the Highlander canon explanation for immortality is deeply, deeply weird, but at least it tried. No, I can't believe I'm defending Highlander II either.

The characters, too, could have been more fleshed out. The bulk of the character development is given to Andy and Nile, and I'm not complaining about that -- they were great -- but Joe and Nicky and Booker only got maybe a few lines each. They would have felt so much more real if they'd just had a little bit more to them. Also I didn't understand Copley's arc at all, but saying more about that would be spoilery. I do like that they have definitely set themselves up for a sequel.

But even with what we got, there's a lot to love about the characters. If you're here for canonically queer characters, you will enjoy Nicky and Joe, who have been in a relationship for probably about a thousand years. They are minor characters as far as the overall plot goes, but what they do have is lovely, and there is a romantic declaration between them at one point that is absolutely beautiful and possibly the most fervent love declaration I can remember seeing in a movie since maybe... ever. If you also like your queerness more subtextual, though Andy is never portrayed as explicitly queer, her past friendship with a fellow immortal Quynh was shown as very intense, as is the role she takes here mentoring Nile into the world of immortality. Also she has a double-bladed axe (yes, we kept yelling BRING ME MY MAN-KILLING AXE at the television) and as we all know, the double-bladed labrys has in modern times become a symbol for lesbians. So there's that.

In addition to the characters of color who play important roles here -- Nile was my personal favorite, but there's also Joe and Copley and (in flashback) Quynh -- there's a lot of diversity behind the cameras as well, or so the internet informs me. The director (Gina Prince-Bythewood) is the first Black woman to direct a superhero movie, and the same is true of her editor (Terilyn Shropshire). And, furthermore, apparently 85% of the post-production crew were women. They didn't have to do that, and yet they did. It was nice.

I don't watch a whole lot of action movies these days because I usually find R-rated violence too... violent, but I found myself really liking almost all of the action sequences here. None of them felt gratuitous, and a lot of them really focused on the physicality of the immortals fighting in a way I liked, because I feel like people are probably going to fight differently if they know they can survive every single hit, and I think the movie portrayed that in a way that a lot of superhero comics and movies don't. My favorite fight scene is definitely the one between Nile and Andy at the beginning, when Andy has trapped her on a plane and it's extremely close-quarters fighting and also extremely brutal. They don't stop basically until Nile breaks enough bones that she can't get up anymore, because until then she's going to keep trying, which is both kind of horrifying and a great character note. And they didn't film it like it was a Sexy Catfight! It was so good.

Also, the soundtrack is really good, and I've found myself streaming it on Spotify all week. I didn't know any of the songs in the movie, but there's a lot of hip-hop and -- okay, I don't even know if this is a genre? -- specifically a lot of hip-hop with an electronic/industrial sort of beat, which I thought was really great and livened up the fight scenes even more; "Going Down Fighting" did a really good job getting me in the mood for the final confrontation with the villain, and... yeah, it's all good. Someone made a playlist on Spotify that will come up if you search for it.

So, yeah. It's on Netflix. It's not without flaws (mostly, explaining how the hell immortality works, and a couple of pacing issues), but it's a really satisfying superhero movie.

That's the movie. Onto the comic, which I am just now starting to read as I write these words. Whee!

So The Old Guard: Opening Fire is a 2017 five-issue Image Comics series written by Greg Rucka, with art by Leandro Fernández, and there's also a 2019 sequel, The Old Guard: Force Multiplied, by the same creative team, also with five issues. I have not actually read any of Rucka's work before now because he is mostly famous for his DC work, but I have heard good things about it, especially his Wonder Woman run.

Anyway. The art is very stylized, with a minimal color palette, and it's very pretty but I honestly found it hard to parse sometimes. Many of the characters have very weird noses. Yes, noses. It's basically mostly in Andy's and Nile's POVs, like the movie, and as far I can tell Andy is explicitly queer, because unless I am entirely misreading this panel in issue #1, here she is in bed with a woman in one panel. Whee. Also there are some nice epigraphs at the beginning of each issue.

Okay, so, the plot here is basically the plot of the movie. There is still no explanation of why immortality exists. But even so, there are some fun character moments that didn't make it into the movie -- for example, Andy saying smartphones are too hard to use and she liked the old ones better, only for the rest of her team to say that she couldn't use those either. I think you get a better sense of Andy's world-weariness in the comic. There are also other, now-dead Immortals mentioned, like Noriko, who "went overboard off the Horn." Quynh is not one of them; Quynh basically is Noriko, which is because they cast a Vietnamese actress who asked if her character could be Vietnamese too, which seems perfectly reasonable to me. But anyway, in the comics, she's Noriko. Weirdly, Andy's full name, as she tells Nile when they meet, is Andronika ("man-victory") rather than Andromache ("man-battle," in case you were wondering); I think the movie made a better choice because Ἀνδρονίκα has exactly two attestations in the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, whereas Ἀνδρομάχη has all that shiny name recognition of being shared by the wife of Hector and also the queen of the Amazons and will ping viewers as a Greek name, and therefore ancient, even if it can't be the name she was born with. (There are five for "Andronike" and four more for "Andromacha" so they actually have about the same number of total attestations, as far as I can tell, when you consider the alpha/eta alternation in how various Greek dialects mark feminine nouns.)

(Yes, you totally wanted a review by someone who looks up character names in the LGPN. Don't lie.)

Plotwise, Andy gets all of the initial exposition in for Nile before they get to the safehouse, which Copley has already gotten to before they get back, so Booker is bleeding on the floor and Nile doesn't get to meet Joe or Nicky at this time, and I am also glad they changed that for the movie. But, don't worry, Joe and Nicky's romantic declaration is still in here. We also get Andy pondering the last time she was in love, with a human who grew old.

Oh, and we get Andy's age: 6,732. And by issue #5 her name has changed to Andromache, because what even is continuity? I guess Andromache is her name now.

So Nile finally meets Joe and Nicky when she rescues them and also, uh, that plot point where Andy might die? Totally not a thing here. Nope. And no "surprise! even more immortals!" end-credits moments either.

Basically, I feel like every change they made to the script for the movie really strengthened the story, and even though I thought the movie could have used more character moments, it's way better than how the characters are separated for even longer in the comic. Nile rescuing the team means a lot more when she has met them before, you know?

So Force Multiplied starts us off with Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Nile, because Booker is still on time-out. They are in the middle of a car chase, and Booker's off getting himself kidnapped by someone who wants to know where the others are. The villain of the piece turns out to be Noriko, who is still alive, whom Booker had never had a chance to meet and apparently had never heard of. So, basically, a lot like the Quynh plot that the movie is teasing.

Overall it's a little less action-filled than the first one, which had multiple splash pages of nothing but violence; this one is a little more character-driven and explores the relationship, such as it is, between Andy and Noriko, as well as Nile coming to terms with her immortality, as well as with what everyone else has done over the years. It does have a bunch of violence at the end, though.

I don't want to spoil the ending, but I definitely wasn't expecting where that was heading. There's apparently going to be a third volume, and I am looking forward to it, whenever it exists.

(Although, now that I think about it, the ending is a lot like a fan-favorite moment of Highlander: The Series, but I think if I said which episode you would know exactly what the ending was.)

So, yeah! The Old Guard! I can't say as I feel particularly fannish about it -- there's nothing that makes me yearn to fill in the gaps in canon -- but the movie was really good and you should see it. And you should read the comics if you're into that.

#posts i actually wrote

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 4 years

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Hey, I just wanna say that as someone with adhd, the post about the papas and adhd feels kinda hurtful. People with adhd battle stereotypes constantly, and saying we feel like a “giant baby” or “incompetent” reinforces the stereotypes. We aren’t crybabies, and our symptoms aren’t always obvious or noticeable. Feeling irresponsible and helpless doesn’t accurately (or positively) reflect the adhd experience. It’s fine to write about adhd, but adults with adhd act like adults.

Hey there! So I would to make a few points here in response and I hope this does clarify a few things!

~First off, I am an adult with ADHD and these are real feelings and symptoms I and people close to me do battle with in our every day lives. These are feelings and worries I’ve experienced and witnessed first hand for years.

~The post was made with the idea that the reader’s ADHD was acting up particularly bad and causing distress. These are real symptoms and my focus was on when ADHD can cause a person a hard time.

~You are absolutely right, there are tons of negative stereotypes and a lot of people who don’t understand what a lot of these symptoms do.

~Not everyone feels like “a giant baby” and “incompetent”- but there ARE people who do because we are made to feel that way. My point was to emphasis that the reader insert FELT this way, and that they had had PRIOR experiences that made them fearful they were being PERCEIVED this way. These are REAL experiences I have had and I put these in my work.

~Everyone experiences symptoms differently and can be one of three types of ADHD- for the sake of the prompt I went with symptoms that were more general and noticeable. I could make a list of other symptoms but I decided to narrow it down to a particular one.

~I’m not sure which part the reader wasn’t acting like an adult? Having a panic attack over something hurtful is very real. A reader talking about going to see their therapist for help is very real. A reader showing signs of ADHD but not to the point of being asked about it is very real. The inability to focus and it being noticed by your employer or professor is very real.

If you still feel this way after reading my points of what I was trying to articulate, definitely feel free to message me. I would love to improve my work, especially on a subject that hits very close to home for me!

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amusedyan · 5 years

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Over Your Shoulder

A gift for @yandere-love-love-love (an absolutely awesome writer who produces q u a l i t y yandere content and is super indulgent w/ their followers) who mentioned in a post wanting to see Endeavor purposefully making his secretary uncomfortable.

I’m working on another one from that post, but I do love me some yandere Enji!

TW: sexual harassment, light stalking, threats of violence, yandere behavior

Special thanks to my friend and mod Kleos for taking a look and giving me feedback on this.

Srsly look at that man- would you want him over your shoulder?

Also, note, while normally I try to keep my insert characters gender neutral, I made this one female just because it worked better with my idea.

When you first got hired, the secretary you were replacing had given you a heads up on her, figurative, way out.

"Do your job and Endeavor will leave you alone."

She'd been leaving to get married, had been working at Endeavor's agency for nearly 10 years. She'd stayed on an extra week to train you (and give you some advice).

The former Ms. Kikuchi had told you how the complicated filing system worked, what numbers he wanted routed to him immediately and which ones to handle on your own. She showed you how to arrange the meetings and who to call for each (and where to find them in the directory she'd compiled for easy access). You learned how he liked his coffee, when he'd prefer tea (and what kind) and his preferred lunch habits.

You'd been overwhelmed but more than appreciative. How could you be anything but? It was your first job at an agency, and you were working for Endeavor! The new Number One! You’d be a fool to be anything but happy for the help, and You made her a "congrats on getting married and thank you for training me to handle this" cake on her last day.

So Ms. Kikuchi had told you how to do your job.

But then on your first day handling things alone Endeavor had appeared at your desk within the hour, sneering down at you through his flaming facial hair.

"I expect my employees to dress professionally." You could feel your face turning red, even through the confusion.

What was wrong with slacks and a nice cardigan?

"I'm sorry sir, but what's wrong with my outfit?"

"This is a professional environment. Because it's your first day, I'll let it go, but I expect you in a skirt or a dress starting tomorrow." He said lowly, and you nodded, trying not to sweat at the heat coming off him. "Am I understood?"

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir." You said quietly.

Endeavor nodded and returned to his office. You breathed a sigh of relief.

(You had to go shopping after work for skirts and dresses appropriate for work. Plus an extra pair of stockings. You winced at the total but paid anyway.

The next day you came in dressed neatly, feeling vulnerable in the new skirt.

When Endeavor came in he looked at you in passing, took in your outfit and nodded.

You figured that meant you were in the clear)

The next week, on his orders, you brought him lunch from the expensive deli that Kikuchi had said he preferred.

She'd left explicit instructions- he ate one thing from there, and if it wasn't right you would have to deal with it.

"And no one likes it when Endeavor's in a mood," Kikuchi had told you. You could believe that.

(He might be a hero but he wasn't...he made you want to flinch. Eye contact was best avoided. He took all the attention in a room, commanded a presence and smelled like smoke.

But the job paid well)

"What is that?" He said, the moment that you shut the door behind you.

"Your lunch?" You offered, a sinking feeling dropping into you.

"I didn't tell you what to get."

"No, but Ms. Kikuchi left a list of what you like. And since it was the deli, she said-"

"I don't care what she said. Unless I tell you what to get, don’t refer to the list!” He snapped, and you nodded. Endeavor took a deep breath, and you watched the flames on his face flicker and calm.

It was a conscious fight not to tremble as you stood there- if your knees started knocking than you were risking your balance in those ridiculous heels that completed your outfit.

“Leave the food. Don’t do it again.”

“Yes sir.”

(You didn’t call him out on the fact that he hadn’t told you what to get him.

And you didn’t repeat your mistake)

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You blinked up at him in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“A boyfriend? A husband? A sexual partner?” You were blushing so hard, you knew.

“N-no, I, no I don’t- why does it matter...?”

“I need to know that none of my employees are distracted.

It’s a continuing pattern in the following weeks. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t do your job, so Endeavor didn’t leave you alone.

Strange questions, personal observations, weird requests and orders that he deliberately made impossible to follow.

His looming figure was always over your shoulder, pointing out your mistakes, calling you out for the smallest of details; all those preparations that Kikuchi made to help you were useless, because unless Endeavor gave the order he didn’t want you doing it.

The problem was that Endeavor was not an easy man to ignore. He burned like a furnace directly at your shoulder, and you have to worry about sweating your makeup away because of it.

(And oh, the makeup- a little eyeliner and some tasteful gloss didn’t cut it for this man, no, professionalism always, which led to youtube tutorials...)

You were stressed. Very, very stressed.

One morning, though, you felt him shift behind you, and suddenly that heat was very intense right behind your head-

“I’m not a fan of green apples. Change it.”

Did...did he seriously...

“You just...sniffed my hair.” You said softly, face red and heart pounding. How- what? Enough was enough, this was...

You sat there in silent rage; was steam coming out of your ears? You thought it might be. How ironic.

How dare he- why did he think he had the right?

You thought long and hard about it that night and came to a decision.

The next morning you knew people were whispering about you, and who could blame them? You were wearing virtually the same outfit from your first day- pants and minimal makeup included. One last major show of defiance as you knocked on Endeavor’s office door.

“Come in,” he called calmly; it was funny, he’d never outright threatened you or even hurt you, but the sound of his voice, low and pretend polite, made you shiver with fear.

But you stood straight and stepped in, closing the door behind you.

“I wasn’t aware it was casual Friday.” He remarked, and you felt your lips twitch, just a bit. You sat down without waiting for him to ask. Endeavor was just the kind of asshole who wouldn’t, just to prove his dominance.

“It’s not,” you promised calmly, handing over your printed letter. “I just came to give you this.”

Endeavor’s hand dwarfed the paper it was so large, and you watched his eyes scan the printed type before they flicked back up to meet yours. “You’re resigning?”

“Yes. I wanted to give it to you in person.” It was only polite- besides, your mother had warned you about burning bridges.

He nodded and hummed. There was a pregnant pause as you watched him finish the letter. You thought that might be the end of it, had prepared for being thrown out of the building. You had enough money in your account to scrimp together for a bit, and well, you’d figure out what would come next. Customer service was still an option.

Then Endeavor incinerated the paper in a burst of fire that, had you jumping half out of your seat.

“Sit back down.” He ordered, and you meekly did so, heart pounding as he very calmly got up from behind his desk, strolled around and past you- when you heard the heavy thud of the lock your heart jumped up into your throat.

“Endeavor, sir-”

“Shut up.”

He was behind you again, but this time his too warm hands were on your shoulders, gentle, mocking restraints.

“You aren’t going to leave. You’re going to go home and you’re going to change into something professional, come back and resume work. I won’t even dock your pay.” Endeavor’s voice was low and quiet and it thrummed in your bones and made you shudder.

“You can’t make me. I’m not your employee anymore, sir.”

He hummed again. “That’s true, but it would be very hard to find employment if I spoke against you.”

No, he wouldn’t-

“That’s illegal,” you countered, trying to stay calm. He was a hero, for all his faults, he wouldn’t break the law. Would he?

“That’s true. But you know how rumors are, don’t you? I mean, my agency’s seen the way you dress, the way you look at me, how you constantly make mistakes for my attention-”

You tried to stand, but his hands forced you back down.

“But I don’t!”

“It doesn’t matter, does it? What matters is what people think. Now, if you’re a good girl and go home and get dressed, like I told you, things will be fine. We can even have a long discussion about it. Do you understand?”

He had you trapped. That rat bastard, he- he was actually-

“Yes. Yes, sir.” You whispered softly, closing your eyes at the feel of his lips on the top of your head.

“Good girl. Stay after work and we’ll have a nice long talk about your responsibilities as my secretary. I’ve let you twist in the wind long enough.”

#yandere #fanfiction #yandere fanfiction #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere bnha #yandere mha #enji todoroki #endeavor #yandere enji todoroki #yandere endeavor

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sebbies · 5 years

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how about a smutty mechanic!bucky?

“That part’s gonna cost you around 3k,” the mechanic said as he wiped his greasy hands on an already dirty rag. he stepped back as you leaned forward to look around the mess of wires and metal tubing in the hood of your car.

he lost the battle of pretending not to focus on your ass. it was sticking out like in front of him, how could he ignore such a round and tight thing? there was voice talking, that much he knew, but he wasn’t paying attention to that as his eyes skimmed down to study your long legs before trailing back up and fully expecting to see the curve of your ass under the skirt you were wearing. except you had turned around and were facing him with your arms crossed under your breasts, pushing them up just so slightly that your v-neck did nothing to hide them.

“but that’s- that’s a lot of money for such a small part.”

he scoffed, “you’re telling me a rich little girl like you doesn’t have the money to pay for something like that?”

“hey!” you scoffed right back at him, pointing back to your car, “i paid for this car on my own and it took me years!”

he held his hands up as to signal surrender but you were pretty sure he didn’t want to cause a fight where his employers and other customers could see it.

there was a beat of silence before he asked, “how old are you?”

“what? why? you want me to work for you or something?”

he chuckled, “or something.”

you watched as he stood up straighter, shoving the sleeves of his grey jumpsuit further up his arms, exposing the thick muscle underneath. that small gesture and you felt a gush of wetness in your panties, the lewd look he was giving you wasn’t helping either.

“i’m bucky by the way,” he said softly as he walked up to you while pointing at the name tag stitched to his jumpsuit. seeing him up close was a whole different experience. his rugged jaw and deep blue eyes, the way his tattoos ran down his arms made you want to trace each on with your tongue. bucky was rough looking, but it somehow added to the allure.

“i know who you are,” replied finally looking at him in the eyes, “we were in the same math class senior year of high school.”

you always had a crush on bucky and coming back to your hometown a few years later had changed nothing. you also knew that the only way to see him was by taking your car to the local garage shop.

“still as beautiful as ever,” he practically whispered.

“so about that payment,” you trailed off, reminding him why you were here in the first place.

his fingers reach out, hesitantly playing with the hem of your shirt, “there’s other ways i can make you pay,” he said with a smirk.

“oh,” you replied, trailing your fingers gently up and down his arms, “in what ways?” you asked as innocently as possible.

bucky kept his hands on your waist as he turned you around, your frame pressed against his front and he let his hands wander over your shirt until they slipped under the fabric.

“you could let me see these,” he huskily whispered in your ear. a militia of goosebumps arose on your skin and you had to refrain yourself from throwing your head back and giving him exactly what he wants so soon.

bucky squeezed the soft mounds in his calloused hands. you helped him yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side. in one swift move he had your bra off and was tweaking your tight buds. each twist of his fingers made juices pour down your thighs.

“mmm,” he moaned against your skin and you could feel him smiling, “don’t think this is payment enough.” the deep rumble of his whisper ran through your body causing every nerve to feel on fire.

“no?”

he pulled back and looked both ways, making sure no one was around.

“wanna feel how tight that pussy is,” he said against the shell of your ear, the hotness of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“it should be me paying you,” you said with a smirk, before turning around and slowly sinking to your knees.

you had his cock out in seconds and as you licked his head, scraping off precum, he groaned loudly, the sound echoing off the stoned walls.

“that’s it baby girl.”

you covered bucky’s cock with your mouth and eagerly began sucking on it.

“fuck!” he yelled out, “look at that ass.” he bent over and lifted your skirt up and pulled your thong to the side. he slapped both cheeks at one time, enjoying his deep red marks on your skin.

“thought about that ass all the time in school,” he mumbled as he gripped your ass. you moaned in delight at the roughness he was showing which only made you suck him harder, popping him out and gobbling him up again.

at one point he rolled his eyes back as you engulfed his balls in your mouth, twirling them around with your hot tongue. not being able to take it anymore, bucky yanked you up by the hair and pressed you against the closed hood of the car. he stared down at your exposed pussy and groaned with lust.

“fuck,” he moaned as he gripped your ass cheeks and parted them to get a better view of your glistening cunt. bucky bent down and swept his tongue down your slit, making your legs shake.

“oh yeah, baby, all mine.”

and in the haze of it all you could only assume it was a snide remark to your high school boyfriend.

you moaned and whimpered as you pushed your hips back onto his face. you couldn’t believe this was happening.

bucky’s bearded chin was coated with your juices as he used it to press down on your clit. he was eating you out like a starved man.

“best pussy ever,” he mumbled, “better than i thought.”

“oh, oh god,” you loudly moaned out loudly as he inserted a finger into your depths. he added another finger, stretching you out and making you squeal as he fucked you.

“oh, buck- bucky,” you cried out as you were cumming. juices squirted all over him and he lapped at them eagerly.

“now for the real payment,” he said as he stood up, positioning himself behind you.

“c’mon bucky, use me,” you moaned and shook your hips. he slapped your ass before he slowly started sliding his dick towards your hole.

he pushed in deeper and felt you clenching down on him.

“oh fuck, you greedy baby,” he groaned as he watched his dick slide further into you.

he felt so good in you and he couldn’t help but continue to hump you.

“so tight around my cock.” he smiled to himself when he saw cream already coating his length each time he pulled out.

“fuck, it’s so tight and warm. ‘s like calling my cock home, baby,” his words caused warmness to erupt in your belly.

you cried out in pleasure, feeling your second orgasm beginning. it travelled up your legs and down your spine making you tighten you hold on him. the girth of bucky’s cock moulding perfectly to your entrance.

“you like that, baby?”

you screamed as he railed you against the hood, the orgasm never really subsiding.

“god, fuck,” he grabbed your hips tighter, impaling you more, “so fucking sensitive.”

“oh god yes!” you breathed and held on to the car as another orgasm swept through you, making your knees buckle.

bucky held you tightly in his arms as he continued to fuck you. he rubbed your clit, enjoying how you bucked like a wild deer in his arms. your tits bounced as he rutted into you, his cock swelling even more. bucky reached around you and slapped your cunt in smooth solid strokes. he had you coming undone once again and hearing your moans and groans was it for him. he roared a loud groan in the empty garage, releasing himself, the biggest load he’d ever had into your tight pussy. you body shook with desire.

“we good on payment?” you asked breathless, panting and with your eyes closed.

bucky chuckled, “not sure.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #mywords #Anonymous

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wp-blaze · 24 hours

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Hand Drill 00080-00

This tool is ideal for accurate drilling and boring operations and was specifically designed for use with a self-feeding auger bit. It is compatible with hex shank sizes of 1/4, 5/16, and 3/8 only. Hex shanks of other sizes will not fit properly in this tool. It is robust and built to last.

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legrebe · 4 years

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The Window - II.

I wanted to scribble down a few thoughts about the rise of solidarity, people clapping for warrior health workers at their windows, young going grocery shopping for elders. Hearing about it feels like a reward after actualizing the death toll of the day, the foreseen disastrous impact on an already rotten economy (fragile, I meant fragile). It's nicer, softer and fluffier than a billion TP rolls. But pigeons and poetry be damned, I have to spit this out. I'm trying to keep up to date with the situation in countries where I have friends and family but doing so I am forced to admit once again that information is mostly behind the paywall. Or is it really? Maybe I don't get to read why [insert nationality here] are so disobedient because it’s in their genes, how to cope with home office, how to stay in shape when gyms are closed, or how to deal with the dry skin of your over washed hands (moisturizer, duh). Paywall or not, what seems absent from mainstream newspapers is explanations about why the health system of every single country is pushed to their limits in just a few days. What does it reveal? That our current health system is not designed to sustain any kind of health crisis. That hospitals' staff are already overworked. That "taking care" has been replaced with "making profit". Where health is public, the general discourse is that health costs too much, must be rationalized, spending less, and less and less, while adopting a contradictory approach on other topics - innocent example: current tax evasion (optimization, I meant optimization) system is drying out States resources all around the world. Where health is privatized, insurances want to grow their shareholders wealth, reducing the amount reimbursed, investing people's contributions in market shares to get more money, and doing so, exposing people's health to the risk of financial crises. Hospitals, private practitioners want to make profit. It is a fallacy: a health system cannot create direct profit. You cure people, and those people, once cured, will contribute to society - that's where the profit will be made. Curing can and should only be done outside of the “making profit” logic. Otherwise, to create the illusion of profit compared to the expenditure of last year, you cut expenses, a little more each time, and cure less and less and less. Until there is no health system left. I have no expertise but curiosity and two ounces of logic, no statistics but the one provided by the OCDE on its member states. Yet it seems obvious that it is the general trend followed by at least all European countries, if not all the world. Just take a look at the graphs: it’s the number of staffed hospital beds available for the population over the last 40 years. Everywhere, the number is falling down. But the population is by no mean healthier. On the contrary, it grows older each year, and with this increases the chances of developing health conditions. Yet it is not unavoidable, as Korea and to a certain extent China seems

to prove. So why this trend? Cutting costs, probably. Less beds, means less staff, means less room, means less expenses, means health system under stress, means it collapses when anything out of the ordinary happens. It also means less employments in the health sector, more burnouts, more sick persons. Winning logic by all account. Don’t get me wrong, curing has a cost. You need to pay for the infrastructures, hospitals, doctors, nurses, cafeteria staff, cleaning persons (vital in a hospital, yet completely forgotten by most). Taking care of and curing people is a job, not a vocation. It means decent salary, decent work conditions and the respect of workers rights. The management of those costs should not be subdued to a logic of profit. Society as a whole should decide how much of a health system it wants, how much of curing and caring it wants to receive. Not shareholders. Not the “economy”.

#artists on tumblr #illustration #digital painting #painting #my art #fight for your health system #wash your damn hands #stay home

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radioromantic-moved · 4 years

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mordecai vs. the universe

word count: 2200

a soulmate au that got way too out of hand. i mostly wrote it when i was supposed to be sleeping or working. please enjoy it. cara is my 1920s-sona

entropy, noun- lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder.

Soulmates are a complicated business. They’re notorious that way. People joke that everyone who ever wanted to study the process of soulmates gave up after a few weeks on the job. The only real concrete thing that’s accepted as positive fact is the simple the first words they say to you appear on your body in their handwriting a few years after puberty; some get them, some don’t. No dates or timestamps, no scientific explanation, no clear-cut pattern. Soulmates are tricky, multifaceted, and chaotic.

Their lack of organization is one of the reasons why Mоrdecai HelIer hates them.

Although it’s certainly not the only one.

He’s been surrounded by marked people his whole life, almost as if they gravitate towards him. His mother and father were soulmates; his mother doesn’t speak about it often, but on the occasion that his father, now deceased, happens to enter the conversation, he’ll catch her adjusting her shirtsleeves to cover up something, fading, written in a neat, flowing font. His youngest sister got her mark remarkably early--a few months before he left home, she was speculating aloud who the mystery phrase scrawled across her neck would be spoken by, in the dreamy tone of someone who can still afford daydreams.

He can’t escape soulmates at his place of employment, either. Atlas and Mitzi not only flaunt their matching marks, they’ve been known to use them to entertain--Mоrdecai’s witnessed them reenact their first meeting in a floral, overdramatized skit of sorts, culminating in the removal of Atlas’ jacket so the crowd can see the words written on his collarbone and Mitzi dramatically sweeping back her hair to reveal what’s been penned on her cheek and jawline.

The words aren’t particularly impressive, either; he paid her a casual compliment on her musical skill after a performance.

Then there’s Viktor, who never reveals anything about his soulmate, but Ivy swears on her life she’s seen ink on his back before when she catches him off guard. Mоrdecai suspects that she just has soulmates on the brain, though; she’s at the age that most marks appear, and she’s constantly fidgeting with her clothes to check if anything’s appeared while she wasn’t paying attention.

Mоrdecai finds the whole business to be wholly a waste of time. He has more important things to worry about than romantic entanglements, and he certainly does not need a mysterious, undefinable, uncategorizable force attempting to force him into one. Leave the prettiness and fairytales to AtIas and his wife. When it comes to socialization, particularly done with romantic intent, he could arrange an alphabetized, structured list on all of the things that he would rather do.

Which is why he could not be more annoyed when he sees the sentences crawling down his arm one otherwise unremarkable day.

His mark somewhat matches his mother’s--perhaps they do follow genetic lines in some way, he notes, even as his brain is insisting there are more important things to worry about right now--but his seems to take up more space than his father’s organized writing did. One could hardly call his soulmate’s handwriting neat--it’s a messy scrawl, as if they were writing in a hurry. Well, I’ve been worse off, though I guess not by much, claims this permanent, unwanted tattoo of his, and he’s inclined to agree with it.

He let himself get too secure; he was so sure that he was out of the age range of expected mark appearance, but if his studies of statistics have taught him anything, it’s that there are always outliers in any data pool.

There’s also Murphy’s Law to contend with.

But he will make a plan and follow it to the letter, the way it always does. He refuses to let this distract him. He has a job to do, and this mark will not change that.

If anyone at the Laсkadaisy notices that he’s particularly taken with long sleeves all of a sudden, they don’t say anything about it. Sometimes he thinks he sees Mitzi giving his arm a sideways glance, but a well-placed stony glare often gets her to back off.

All is well, for a while.

Until a soaking wet stranger stumbles into the Little Daisy Cafe on yet another day that would normally be considered entirely ordinary.

Atlas, Viktor and Mоrdecai are seated in a booth near the entrance when the door blows open and someone hurries inside, shutting the door behind them and sealing off the fierce rainstorm raging outside. The stranger takes a seat at a barstool and pulls off their jacket, gathering it into a pile in their arms. They must look sufficiently like a drowned rat, because as soon as Mitzi emerges from behind the counter, she hurries over to the shivering would-be customer. “Oh, my--don’t tell me you just came from out there! Are you alright? You look halfway to the grave.”

The stranger attempts a half-shrug. “Well, I’ve been worse off,” they say affably, “though not by much,” they concede with chattering teeth.

Mоrdecai’s arm burns fiercely. He rubs it, trying to look casual.

“I’ll get you a towel,” says Mitzi, heading to the back room. She turns around and adds, “Although I hope you’ll clean up that mess you’re dripping all over our floors. We just cleaned in here, you know.”

Atlas heads over to the new arrival, who is murmuring to themselves under their breath. Mоrdecai follows, although he has a terrible feeling that he will strongly dislike the outcome of this conversation.

“What brings you out in this weather?” Atlas asks mildly.

The stranger takes a towel offered to them by Mitzi and sighs. “Job-hunting gone wrong, I guess,” they say in a dry alto. “One rejection too many, suppose I wasn’t paying attention to much anymore. I got lost, and when it started raining I just ended up more turned around.”

They’re dressed for a job interview; they’re wearing an expensive-looking red suit that would probably come off as more impressive if it wasn’t rumpled and soaking wet. They’re holding a stack of papers that seem to have taken less rain damage than the rest of them; Mоrdecai would guess they were shielding the papers with their body.

Atlas tilts his head and stares at the would-be interviewee with a look that Mоrdecai recognizes as an appraising one. “You seem decent,” he says slowly. “What, if you had to guess, was the common factor in your rejections from your prospective jobs?”

It’s a loaded question, but Mоrdecai has a feeling he knows what Atlas is looking for.

The stranger pauses a second. “If I’m being entirely honest, sir, I believe I lack the charm needed to succeed in a career when one’s of my particular persuasion.”

There’s something in her eyes. Mоrdecai has never claimed to be good at reading people, but he has a feeling that there’s something more to her job quest than she’s letting on.

“You know,” says Atlas, “we could use someone else to wait tables around here--we’re rather shorthanded as of late.”

This is a lie.

“If you’re inclined, I’d be perfectly willing to take you on--on a trial basis, of course,” Mоrdecai’s employer says, extending a hand to shake. “What’s your name?”

The stranger at the bar counter only hesitates for a second before shaking his hand firmly. “Cara. Cara Bergman. Thank you for the opportunity, sir.”

Mоrdecai makes his exit not long afterwards. No one cares much; they’re used to him disappearing when he pleases.

He has built his career on being unnoticed, and it pays off. No one notices when he starts avoiding speaking out loud in front of the new hire; if he must say anything at all, he says it in low tones to Atlas or Viktor. No one notices that every time Cara happens to get too close to him, he holds his arm as if it’s been burned.

He has successfully adjusted his plan to include every confounding variable, every scheme and trick and twist of fate that the universe, in its cosmic complication, has tried to throw at him.

Or so he thinks.

Because as it turns out, Cara Bergman is remarkably difficult to predict.

A crisp knock sounds on his office door, and he heads to open it, almost spouting a reflex greeting--but when he sees who happens to be standing outside, he’s glad he didn’t.

“Hello,” Cara says calmly. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

She takes a seat facing his desk, and maybe he’s just caught extremely off guard by her sudden insertion into his personal time, but he finds himself sitting back down to face her. He doesn’t say a word, and they eye each other for a few moments.

Cara breaks the silence eventually. “Look, I know you can talk. You and Mr. May are always off gabbing away in your little booth in the cafe. And from the way you always snap to attention when he says anything, I’m assuming your hearing faculties are in order, too.”

He doesn’t say a word, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Cara continues. “I’d write it off as you just being antisocial, but when I bumped into you the other day, the way you flinched--I thought I’d stabbed you or something.”

So maybe he wasn’t quite as subtle as he thought.

Cara folds her hands in front of her. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I’m sure you’re awfully busy with bookkeeping or whatever it is you do. I just want to hear one sentence from you. Any sentence will be fine.”

Mоrdecai considers his options and finds himself woefully lacking. He scratches his arm, which is stinging dully. He meets Cara’s eyes, and he can tell that she’s got a fair idea of what’s going on already.

He sighs, and throws caution to the wind.

“Alright. I suppose it’s best we finish this sooner rather than later.”

Cara grins toothily. “That’s what I was looking for. And may I just say, that’s really the best thing to have tattooed on you for eight years or thereabouts. Are we factory workers? University students? My guess is as good as anyone else’s.”

Even though he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, it’s a grim confirmation when she shrugs her shirt off one shoulder to reveal his own handwriting penned in inky black.

Suddenly, one of the things she’s said hits him. “Eight years? I’ve only had a...mark--” he hears the contempt in his voice as the word comes out--“for a few months, five at the most.”

Cara snorts. “What, did you expect something involving soulmates to make sense?”

“Fair point,” he concedes.

He straightens his cufflinks, unsure of where to continue from here. Luckily, Cara saves him. “I know you’re not excited about this or anything.”

“What gave it away?” he deadpans.

“Look,” she states, side-eyeing him, “I know there’s a lot of pressure on people to settle down once they find their soulmates, or at least make a big to-do about the whole thing. But no one’s making us turn this into a production. Just because we’ve got each other’s handwriting on us doesn’t mean we have to go all--” here Cara leans forward and bats her eyelashes in such a dead-on impersonation of Mitzi that Mоrdecai nearly chokes in surprise-- “on each other.”

“I--well.”

Somehow, he has been struck silent yet again. Cara has presented something that he never considered seriously before. “Well, what do you suppose we do about this, then?” he asks.

“You know, there’s this thing called a friendship that I’ve been thinking about trying out,” says Cara. “I understand the concept might be foreign to you as well.”

“I have friends,” Mоrdecai protests. He doesn’t realize how indignant he sounds about it until it’s already out of his mouth.

“Lovely,” Cara says. “Now you have one more. Here--let’s shake on it.”

She offers her hand, and he takes it. A jolt of something runs through him like lightning (static electricity, he tells himself, common at this time of year) and all at once, he realizes that his mark has stopped stinging.

“Now, as friends,” Cara muses, looking at the stacks of books arranged meticulously on his desk, “we should probably find some common interests. Do you like reading?”

“When it’s for work,” he says, turning his head back down to the figures he was calculating before she walked in.

“Well, that’s awfully boring of you. If we’re going to be friends, I’ve really got to introduce you to some H.G. Wells. Oh, or maybe Poe. You’d like him; you’re both dark and brooding.”

He doesn’t dignify her with a response, and waits until she’s left, carefully shutting the door behind her, to lean back in his chair and consider things.

He refuses to give the universe the direct satisfaction of being right, but he will, at the very least, admit that there are worse ways that this situation could have played out. Much worse.

Her eyes were teal, he thinks, with hints of spring green--

He shakes his head and turns back to his calculations.

#reposted for convenience's sake #and also because of Anxiety #ship: serious business #nyx writes #self ship fic #self ship #self shipping

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bettsrecruiting1 · 4 years

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5 Musts for the Perfect Post-Interview Thank-You Note

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Maybe you just killed your third and final interview, or you finished your initial phone screen with a recruiter with flying colors. Wherever you are in your job interview process, now it’s time to follow up with the perfect post-interview thank-you note.

When is it acceptable to ditch a thank you note? Absolutely never. Even if you’ve decided you’re moving onto other opportunities instead, you should still send a thank-you as a courtesy.

The truth is if you don’t send a thank-you after an interview, you might already be ruling yourself out of the running for your dream job. Hiring managers often see the lack of a thank-you note as a sign that the interviewee isn’t invested in the opportunity or the interview process. Many see it as just plain rude.

Don’t believe us? Just check out this recent blog from a hiring manager on why she will never hire a candidate who doesn’t follow up with a thank-you. As she explains, a thank-you email or card signals that you want the job and gives your potential employer a preview of your working style.

Ready to make a positive final impression that will last for days after your interview, all while setting you apart from other applicants?

Tips when writing your post-interview thank-you note

1. Thank them for their time – in a timely fashion

This is your moment. Seize it while you can. Make your thank-you timely—send it while the key takeaways from your interview are still top of mind. A quick thank-you note immediately shows recruiters and hiring managers that you’re seriously committed to landing their open role.

Sending your thank-you soon after your interview also shows that you know how to prioritize – which will serve you well in the role should you get an offer.

2. Remind them why you’re great

If you were successful in the interview, you did a great job conveying what makes you a great fit for the position. The thank-you note is a great chance to make sure the message didn’t go in one ear and out the other. Take this opportunity to reinforce your conviction that you’re the right person to help the team meet its goals.

In most interviews, the recruiter or hiring manager will cover the goals for the position, key characteristics they’re looking for in their ideal hire, and sometimes, added bonuses that would make a candidate the perfect fit. Your thank-you message should touch on all of those goals and traits and how your experience and skillset aligns with every one of them. The best thank-you messages sum up your timeline for achieving or supporting their goals as a new hire.

3. Reiterate your excitement

Reminding them why they should want to hire you is key – but don’t forget to also reiterate how excited you are to jump into the role and the company. After all, as important as confidence is, a degree of humility is important too. Companies and team leaders don’t want to work with an egomaniac. But they do want to work with someone hungry for the kind of opportunity they’re offering.

In your thank-you, declare your passion for the company’s mission. Marvel at how nice the office is. Tell the hiring manager how well you got along with everyone on the team that interviewed you. Striking that balance between communicating your value and your excitement is key.

4. Touch on interview highlights

Whatever your thank-you is covering, make sure it’s fun to read. A great way to do this is to refer back to something that stood out to you in the conversations you had during the interview. Was there a surprising moment in the conversation? Did you and your interviewers learn anything particularly interesting about each other? Throw it in your thank-you note. This is also a great way to show you were paying attention.

Want some examples? Maybe your potential employer has a ping pong tournament every year. Finish your message with something engaging like:

And I look forward to winning more than new business. My friends call me Zhang Yining when we play ping pong.

Or, if you want to take the strictly-business route, you could go with something like:

I was glad to learn you and the team have fully invested in a consultative sales approach rather than the age-old hard selling model, and I’m eager to start talking to prospects about their needs and goals.

5. Close with next steps

The last thing you want to do is to make your thank-you note sound final. If the interviewer wasn’t clear on next steps, or if it was a final-round interview, then something along the lines of I look forward to hearing from you. But if you have clarity around what the next steps are – and hopefully you do – get specific. Add something like I’m excited to get the mock demo scheduled or I look forward to diving into the marketing assignment.

Finally, gratitude is everything. Sending your thank-you letter shows you really want the job, while simultaneously demonstrating your respect and appreciation. It’s an important first step to building meaningful professional relationships rooted in respect and trust.

Example of a solid thank-you email

Here’s an example of a great post interview thank you note for a sales role:

Hi [insert name],

Thank you for taking the time to discuss your Account Executive position today. I’m positive I have the consultative approach necessary to build relationships and revenue as your organization moves into the cloud technology space. I’m fluent on cloud technologies and the benefits of SaaS software, and look forward to walking your customers through every step of their digital transformation.

I’m also excited for the chance to work with such a great team at such an exciting company. Your customers are doing inspiring things, and I hope I get the chance to help facilitate their efforts. And of course, I’d also love the chance to hear your band play sometime.

Thanks again,

[insert name]

It might seem old-fashioned, but following up on a job interview with a great thank-you email is still crucial. It’s your chance to show you truly have a strong interest in the position, and that you’re not just going through the motions. The candidates that make themselves stand out are the ones that end up getting the job, and a solid thank-you is one of the best ways to do that. Good luck!

The post 5 Musts for the Perfect Post-Interview Thank-You Note appeared first on Betts Recruiting.

from Betts Recruiting https://bettsrecruiting.com/blog/3-musts-for-the-perfect-post-interview-thank-you/

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probablybicoid · 5 years

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Tips for Writing a Cover Letter

Cover letters are the easiest thing to write. Really, they are. Just look at your resume, look at what you want to emphasize to the future employer, and write. However, there are still some general guidelines that took me a few frustrating hours to figure out. So here are a couple tips on the set up of a cover letter.

1. Format like a business letter: This means short, everything is justified to the left, no indents, short paragraphs. Keep your writing to the point. If they can find something in your resume, just reference it and move on. You should fit everything on one page.

2. Top left corner: Include your address (you can omit your name to save space), beneath include the date spelled out (I bold it to give a good division), address of the company you are applying to.

3. Now address your audience (aka the hiring manager). If you know the manager’s name use that. You might have to do some sleuthing to figure it out, but it is better if you use their name. Not only will the person reading it feel special but they know you either dedicated some time to he corporation’s page or are at least attentive to detail. If you have no clue who is going to be reading that’s no problem either. I am always too nervous to put a name down as I think I might be addressing the wrong person. It’s okay to put either the company name or even better just put “Dear hiring manager,”. I also always bold this line to also break it up from the addresses. Don’t ask me why.

4. Now for the juicy stuff. Remember this is general rules and do not need to be followed. Writing is an art, not a format. However, this is what I figured out how to do it. Write a first tiny paragraph (no longer than 2-3 sentences) that include the job you are applying for, where you heard of the position, and then a short closer on why you think you are a good fit. Mine tend a long the lines of

“Please accept the enclosed resume for the position as XXX at Company’s XXX Laboratories. The position was advertised on XXX and I feel that I have the necessary experience to be a valuable member of your team.” Boom done. Be short, to the point, but don’t be rude about it. Please is always a good word. Onto the next paragraph.

5. Next is qualifications. You can take 1-2 paragraphs to write this. I always start off with “According to career requirements” if they explicitly state that something is required to get the job like a certification or something. If not, start off with writing about your experiences. If it is school state your degree, school, and date achieved (month year only). Maybe relevant course work or research. But while you are doing this make sure to write not only what you did but why this experience makes you a good fit. They should not have to question why they are reading it. Ensure that your cover letter is not just a rewrite of your resume. Make it stick out, emphasize what you want them to know about you.

6. Use buzz words. This sounds cheap but its not. When you read the advertisement for the position they will list qualifications that they need or skills that you want. Can you do those? Then state you can do those! They are looking for those things in particular why not hand it to them right then and there? They shouldn’t have to dig around for your skill sets.

7. Finally, the closer. Reemphasize why you are a good fit for XX position at XXX company. Thank them for their consideration and inquire about a follow up interview. Leave a phone number or some way for them to contact you. This paragraph should only be 2-3 sentences. It’s short. It’s the end.

8. Write a closing phrase. Most people write “Sincerely,” I don’t. I don’t know why but sincerely always seemed like a more personal thing to me? I simply put ‘Very Respectfully,” or “Respectfully,”. You are still giving your regards and being polite but it isn’t bridging that grey area between business and friend. Again, I also bold the closing phrase to separate it from the rest of the letter.

9. SIGN and type your name. Having a nice signature is a real eye catcher and really completes the letter. You can make a signature by going onto paint or One Note and drawing out your signature then just screen shot it an insert the picture. Then beneath the signature just type out your name. The end. It looks great.

Save your cover letter! Once you have a good cover letter, you can reuse the general format for other applications. Just ensure to edit the information so it is relevant. Not all the skills you have are relevant from one job to the next. It varies! But the general outline might as well stay the same.

I hoped this helped. It was just some things I uncovered having to figure out how to write a letter by myself.

#Probablybicoid #the hunt #cover letter #tips #writing #job search #studyblr

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