business and trade

anonymous asked:

I see you said you are going to college for business trade. What kind of job are you planning on getting??

I’m actually just doing business for my undergraduate degree! My dream is to become an environmental lawyer, ideally working on multinational agreements regarding the reduction of emissions and pollution into the air and ocean. However, I really just want to be on the legal side of reducing and eliminating environmental destruction while promoting and encouraging sustainable alternatives :) 

-Admin Samantha

anonymous asked:

hey would you ever do a "what if harry potter had been a girl" story? or a trans girl? i don't know how much gender would change things except other people's perceptions but...

Hermione went to the library, when Harry first confided in her. Whatever the faculty, the administration, or the Ministry believed or didn’t believe, the Hogwarts library gave the children what they needed and always would.

Hermione came back with books and books on gender in wizarding history, on the spells and words wizards had used for centuries or decades or mere years, and she and Harry bent their heads together and figured out what words Harry felt best told her story. From her hometown library, after that first summer, Hermione brought back memoirs and brightly-colored pamphlets that Harry read through instead of finishing her Potions homework.

When Harry looked in the Mirror of Erised, she still saw her mother, her father, all her gathered, lost kin. The specter of her father gathered up her hands in his. Her mother pushed back the long dark hair Petunia had always made her cut short and she called her beautiful.

When she looked into it again, after Devil’s Snare and winged keys, giant chess and Ron lying prone on the floor, Hermione wringing her eleven year old hands in the potion riddle room– When Harry looked into the Mirror again, she saw herself, just herself. The girl in the mirror winked and smiled and slipped the Stone in Harry’s pocket. No matter what other wishes and want laid on her narrow shoulders, at the end of the day the thing Harry wanted most was to help. Harry brushed one hand over the lump of rock in her robe pocket, and then brushed her other over her mess of hair, which was feet shorter than the girl in the mirror’s.

She woke up in the hospital wing, bedside table piled high with candy.

Once Harry and Hermione had sussed out between them what the words were for what was going on here, they had explained it to Ron. Harry didn’t come out to anyone else until partway through second year, though, at the height of the Heir of Slytherin nonsense.

She was fed up, then. She just wanted to be left alone, and this wouldn’t help with that, but they were all already staring. Keeping this to herself felt like a vice around her chest. Hogwarts was supposed to be better.

After, Ron came almost to blows with anyone who goggled or sniffed or rolled their eyes. Seamas learned to swallow his tongue. Draco Malfoy didn’t. Hermione wrote up an explanatory note about appropriate pronouns in her best penmanship and then copied it with flicks of her wand. With Harry’s embarrassed permission, she gave it to every professor Harry had or would ever have.

Colin Creevey stopped her in the Great Hall with a tug on her sleeve. She turned, shoulders rising, and the kid said in his piping voice, “You’re still my hero.”

That was better than it could have been, but she wasn’t sure she liked the “still.”

Peeves, though he was nasty about everything else–ickle firsties and orphan girls–got it immediately. For all six years of her Hogwarts tenure, he dropped water balloons on the heads of anyone who misgendered her. Professor Binns never quite figured it out, but he didn’t know any student’s name. Nearly Headless Nick gallantly and somewhat awkwardly called her lady and tried to hold open doors for her, despite the fact that he couldn’t open them.

Snape called Harry “Mr. Potter” for all seven years that he was in Harry’s life. Around year three, Ron stopped counting the detentions he got for his increasingly sarcastic responses to this.

The whispers about the Heir of Slytherin grew louder and louder, keeping pace with “Uh, I thought it was the Boy Who Lived?” Fred and George Weasley took it upon themselves to walk Harry to and from class when they could, talking loudly enough to drown everything out.

Then Hermione got Petrified and the Heir whispers stopped abruptly. Harry, if she hadn’t been busy with Ron trading off reading their assigned textbooks aloud to Hermione in the infirmary, might have felt gratified that the whole school knew how much this bushy-haired kid meant to her. Alright, so they thought she might murder Muggleborns with a mysterious monster, or sic a snake on her opponent in a dueling club? But they knew she wouldn’t hurt Hermione for anything.

In the Chamber, she met Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be her mirror, though she didn’t quite know that yet. He was supposed to be her shadow, the chain around her ankle, the other half (or another eighth) of her story and his soul.

Ginny had been trying to speak for months– to tell someone, to open the diary and the bag under her bed full of chicken-blood-stained robes and to thrust them into the light. But Percy had shushed her, all his assumptions orbiting his own importance to her story. The teachers had patted her on the head. She had been frightened, eleven years old with Tom whispering in her ear, guiding her hands.

Harry had been trying to speak for years– to explain to someone the way she did not feel like Dudley, like Vernon, like the boys in the locker room at school. Hermione had listened. Hermione had given her books and books of people who felt like her. Ron had listened, and taught her wizard’s chess, and kicked Draco in the shins.

But here Harry was, standing alone– a red-haired lump at her feet, dark robes sodden with moldy water. Hermione was frozen. Ron was trapped behind a rock fall and Tom was pacing, gloating, glowing. Ginny was breathing. Ginny had to be breathing. Harry was going to save her. She had to, because no one had listened to the kid, not even Harry.

The phoenix tears left no scars on Harry’s arm. Riddle, the Chamber, the life going out of her, everything that had happened in that long year– none of it left scars on Ginny, or at least none that anyone could see.

When Harry got back to 4 Privet Drive that summer, she suffered through Aunt Petunia’s annual hair cut and then she curled up with Hedwig and wrote a letter. She wrote about the Muggle candies she missed when at Hogwarts, and how her cousin thought she was weird for being excited about summer homework. She asked Ginny how she was.

Ginny wrote back after a long week. She didn’t answer the question, but she wrote about helping Dad on the car, about the apple harvest coming, and Fred and George playing pranks on the ghoul in the attic.

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Don't mess with data date formats.

I see a ton of M/D/Y dates in Ontario businesses, since the amount of trade with the USA makes adopting their standard more convenient. My personal little protest is writing dates on forms as 13 Aug 2017, so there’s no confusion on month, and dating files with YY-MM-DD.

I once had an employer take issue with that file naming convention, and he ordered me to change it to MM-DD-YY. These are files that our sales and service people needed constantly, and need in chronological order.

Idiot Manager: “Change these dates to look like regular dates.” Me: “They sort better this way though, and the sales and service people need-” Idiot Manager: “IDGAF, CHANGE IT NOW.” Me: -.- “Yes sir.”

The change forced me to work overtime, which I recorded as time worked (and was not exempt from OT), and productivity in all other departments decreased by at least 50%. The manager gave me notice (fired me), because those orders had cost his budget an extra $4000 of OT while changing decades of dates to a stupid date format, and seriously hampered the other two departments.

During my last week, I took all of the emails we had exchanged about how changing the date format would be a bad idea, and all records of the work I had done, and sent them to the heads of the other departments, the CFO, COO, aand CEO. Just to let them know about the new date format and cascade to their teams, of course, since I wouldn’t be around anymore. Cue a flurry of miffed conversation between all of those executives.

About a week after I had left, I got a call from a very angry former manager about how I had cost him his job. Hung up on him. A couple of hours later, got a call from the COO, who conferenced in the other department heads, and they offered me that manager’s job (after I fixed the dates back). We settled on a 10% raise on that manager’s salary, and another $5,000 to fix the dates.

The CFO and COO greeted me upon returning, asking how long the reversal would take. I had them wait a moment, and ran a script that I had written the night prior that would change all the dates back in under an hour. I was lucky that they weren’t upset, and understood exactly what I had done. Especially since I pointed out that I didn’t need to hire someone else to do my old job, and we saved an entire salary by combining the two jobs.

TL;DR: Idiot manager switches date formats, loses job, I get paid just under ten grand to do a bunch of busywork and run a script to reverse that busywork, plus his job and raise. Bonus points for saving the company (well, my department) money overall.

As an addendum, we were not the IT department and so the manager did not understand what programming was or that the change could be automated.

Japanese Book Publishing Vocabulary

文芸(ぶんげい) - (art and) literature

読書(どくしょ) - reading (books)

ページを捲る(。めく。)- to turn (e.g. the page)

飛ばし読み+する(と。よ。)- skimming the pages, skipping words, reading quickly (literally “jump reading”)

読書家(どくしょか) - great reader

書店(しょてん) - bookshop, bookstore

書架(しょか) - bookshelf

執筆(しっぴつ) - writing(e.g. as a profession)

書籍(しょせき) - publication, book

出版(しゅっぱん) - publication

出版物(しゅっぱんぶつ) - publication(s)

出版する(しゅっぱん。) - to publish

購読(こうどく) - subscription (e.g. of a magazine)

編集(へんしゅう) - editing, editorial, compilation

営業(えいぎょう) - business, sales, trade 

販売(はんばい) - sales, selling

企画(きかく) - project

*営業企画(えいぎょうきかく)- sales/ operation project

促進(そくしん) - promotion, marketing

児童書(じどうしょ) - children’s book(s)

雑誌(ざっし) - magazine

百科事典(ひゃっかじてん)- encyclopedia

随筆(ずいひつ) - essay, miscellaneous writings, literary jottings

索引(さくいん) - index, indices

目次(もくじ) - table of contents

解説(かいせつ) - explanation, commentary

粗筋(あらすじ) - outline, summary

台詞(せりふ)—>セリフ- one’s line, speech, dialogue in writing (normally written in katakana)

評論(ひょうろん) - criticism, critique

評判(ひょうばん) - fame

傑作(けっさく) - masterpiece

名作(めいさく) - famous piece of work/art

無名(むめい) - unsigned, anonymous; unpopular

Essential verbs:

  • 読む(よ。)- to read
  • 書く(か。)- to write
  • 売る(う。)- to sell
  • 買う(か。)- to buy
3

Real life solarpunk: neighborhood microgrid in Brooklyn:

Solar Experiment Lets Neighbors Trade Energy Among Themselves

In a promising experiment in an affluent swath of the borough, dozens of solar-panel arrays spread across rowhouse rooftops are wired into a growing network. Called the Brooklyn Microgrid, the project is signing up residents and businesses to a virtual trading platform that will allow solar-energy producers to sell excess-electricity credits from their systems to buyers in the group, who may live as close as next door.

The project is still in its early stages — it has just 50 participants thus far — but its implications could be far reaching. The idea is to create a kind of virtual, peer-to-peer energy trading system built on blockchain, the database technology that underlies cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin.

(via Solar Experiment Lets Neighbors Trade Energy Among Themselves - The New York Times)

Real life solarpunk: neighborhood microgrid in Brooklyn via @fuckyeahicosahedrons

Let Her Be

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

Reader x Ivar

Proof read by @heyitskatrina


“(Y/N)!” Helga called as you got distracted and drawn into the sales pitch of someone who stood at the docks.


“There is so much more to look at here. Mother would not believe it if I told her.” You gasped and she smiled kindly as you handed her some of the baskets you’d been carrying. 


 “I am sure the messenger that Floki has sent will be sure to tell her of Kattegat.” She smiled and the two of you hurried off, not spotting the suspicious glare that was fixed on you. 


 “Who is that?” Ivar asked which drew his brother’s attention over to you and Helga as you ducked into the cabin. 

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Jimin - Ride It (M)

Originally posted by wonhoslilmonster

((^^ Gif not mine btw))

Word Count - 1,196
Warnings - Nothing but sin. Thigh riding. Daddy kink. Swearing. Spanking. Please forgive me.
Synopsis - Jimin comes home early from practice one day, sweaty, hair a mess… Your thoughts get a little race-y, and despite your efforts to hide it, he catches on to what you want pretty quick.

——————————

It was times like this you wanted to shrivel up and die.

Jimin was your boyfriend of a solid year and a half now-despite the struggles of dating someone with his hectic schedule and busy lifestyle, honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

But sometimes, sometimes you… Would trade it for anything. This was one of those times.

“Jagiyaaa~! I’m home a little early!” Jimin came happily walking into your shared apartment, looking simply overjoyed to be there, and to see you.

But he also looked… Sweaty. And messy.

His hair was messed up, as if he’d just gotten out of bed, sweat made his bangs cling to forehead, his skin was still practically glowing with energy from what you assumed was a long day of dance practice.

And god damnit, he was wearing shorts, on top of everything.

You’d never admit it, never in your life, but… Hot damn, your boyfriend had some banging thighs.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t imagine riding them all the time, hands on his shoulders to brace yourself, shuddering as he whispered sinful nothings into your ear-

“Earth to Y/N??” Jimin waved his hand in front of your dazed face, giggling at your spacey-ness. “I asked you how your day’s been, silly girl.”

“I-it’s been great, Minnie.” You nodded, forcing a convincing smile and trying your hardest not to let your eyes linger on his thighs as he sat beside you on the couch.

“Is everything okay, jagi? You seem flustered,” He pouted a little at you, reaching over and brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face. Given the close proximity, you could feel the heat radiating from him as he withdrew his hand from your face and, unforunately, laid it on your thigh, patting it gently.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay!” You nodded affirmatively, though you… Couldn’t. Quite come up with a reason as to why you looked flustered in the first place.

“If you say so,” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you, leaving his hand where it was on your thigh, his fingers beginning to absently trace little patterns over the clothed skin.

Damnit, he’s on to you.

“I-I missed you today, Minnie-how was dance practice?” You shifted the subject away from the state of your well-being, knowing if you let him dwell on it he’d catch in to what was going on inside your head.

“Oh, it was great! We had a lot of fun today-Yoongi-hyung treated everybody to chicken and pizza for lunch, and our manager said since we’ve been working so hard lately, we can have tomorrow off! Isn’t that wonderful, jagiya?” Jimin, as you’d expect, was elated at the thought of a day off.

But there was a glint in his eyes you didn’t like.

“We can spend the whole day together tomorrow, how great will that be? Think of all the things we could do,”

Yikes. You understood now.

You’d been not-so-inconspicuously squeezing your thighs together, you realized, and… Yeah, you did sort of keep looking down at his thighs while was talking…

He caught on quicker than you anticipated.

“Spacing out again, baby girl?” He chuckled, shaking his head at you and turning your face towards his with his index finger, looking at you with mock sympathy.

“Poor little kitten… Did you think I wouldn’t notice you admiring my thighs like that? Be a little less obvious next time.” He was wearing a smirk the Cheshire Cat would envy, looking at you as if you were the prey to his predator.

And, let’s be real… You were.

“Stand up and take everything off.” He let go of your face, nodding at you and sitting back against the couch with an expectant look on his face.

You quickly moved to do as he said-honestly, if there was a record for fastest strip time, you’d have just broken it.

“Aww, so eager today, aren’t we?” He abruptly pulled you down onto his lap once you were naked, situating you so you straddled his thigh.

He looked… So smug, and pleased. He must have been thinking about this, too.

“You know, I was planning on asking you if you wanted to try this tomorrow… But thanks to your slutty attitude, I guess it can’t wait, can it?” He cocked his head at you, smirking at how… Small you seemed. How submissive you seemed. It delighted him.

“Daddy asked you a question, kitten. Answer me.” His hand slithered up your leg before slapping your ass, of course leaving a mark. He was good at that, spanking you.

“N-no Daddy, it can’t wait,” You squeaked out an answer, desperate to get this over with so you could… Ride his damn thigh already lord have mercy.

He chuckled at you, taking your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you waiting for, slut? Get going.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You immediately started rocking yourself on his thigh, not even slightly embarrassed as you saw his skin begin to glisten from the sheer wetness of your cunt. He seemed to enjoy it too, once he saw it.

“That’s it, good girl. Ride Daddy’s thigh. Damnit, look how wet you are-how long have you wanted to do this? You should have said something sooner.” He reached behind you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking it back, causing a surprised groan to rumble up from your throat. He latched his mouth onto the expanse of your neck, immediately biting down and starting to pepper red-purple marks across your skin, while your hips worked frantically against his thigh of their own will and volition.

“Fuck,” Jimin pulled away from your neck, groaning as he saw the marks he’d left. “I hope you don’t think this is all we’ll be doing tonight, you little slut. I’m goona pound you so hard into the bed we’ll have to buy a new one,” With his free hand, he delivered several hard spanks to your already red ass.

The spanks just made you that much closer, in all honesty.

You were reduced to nothing short of a moaning, borderline screaming mess as you desperately rocked yourself on his thigh. “D-Daddy, Daddy, please-please make me cum, please,”

He just chuckled at you, and shook his head. “Work for it, you little whore.”

But what he did after he said that contradicted his words.

He wedged his hand between your pussy and his thigh, rubbing furiously at your clit and even pinching it.

“Daddy, I can’t-I can’t hold it if you do th-that-” “-Cum for me, then, slut. Do it. Cum all over Daddy’s thigh.”

Once again… You didn’t need to be told twice.

Your whole body shook, and you screamed, your back arching as your cunt fluttered and coated Jimin’s thigh in your cum.

You slumped against his chest, panting, while he let go of your hair and started tracing patterns all over your now slightly sweaty back.

“Go ahead and take a breather, princess. Wouldn’t want you passing out on me or anything when we really get started.”

Yikes, you were in for a long night. Not to mention the next day.

I started thinking about the whole “aliens find humans ridiculously cute”-speculation and everything cute and funny that was mentioned about it.

But what about all the misinformation and shady business going around in the trade of exotic pets?

Like, imagine an alien family deciding to get a human and going to a shady breeder. The human they pick up is shy at first and somehow seems smaller than it ought to be, but the breeder reassures them that it’s fine. No word is mentioned of proper socialisation or the necessity of interaction with other humans.

The human is brought home and settles down, learns tricks and to mimic words and do other cute funny human stuff. But after some time it starts rapidly changing in appearance, it has doubled in size and is starting to express aggression in a way it never did before.

So they take it to a vet who goes “did you say twenty? This thing is thirteen, it won’t be fully matured for another ten years yet. Oh, and it’s going to double in size again.”

The Man in Apartment 43

Summary: Dean x Reader - Neighbours AU - Dean and the reader live next door to each other and can’t stand each other. Will things change once circumstances bring this bartender and business man duo closer together?

Triggers: Stalking/followed by a stalker (Not Dean), fear

Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/L/N = Your last name   ¦ Y/E/C = Your eye colour ¦ Y/H/C = Your hair colour

Note: Ok, so I know I haven’t finished The Charity Heist yet, but I’m stuck on a part in chapter 4. This one however is pouring out of me. If you guys like it I might write a part 2 later this coming week!

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Reader:

“(Y/N), you are amazing,” Chris Pine’s voice was warm and hot against your neck as he held you close after the two of you saved the world. He moved his mouth from your neck and leaned in, inches from your lips as you wrapped your hands around his neck and moved in to kiss him. Your lips were just about to touch when the background music swelled and…

Living easy!
Living free!
Season ticket on a one way ride!  

Damn it! Your damned neighbour’s near routine music marathon forcefully pulled you out of your dream as you sat up with a gasp. Highway to Hell wasn’t your idea of a good wake-up call. Every. Damned. Morning. Almost at least.

Dean Winchester, the man in apartment 43, was on a completely different schedule from you and every day once he sat down to work on whatever business he did from his apartment he’d turn the volume up on his ridiculously massive speaker system. Sure, it was around 10 am and he was technically allowed to blare his music between 8 am and 11 pm based on apartment rules. But that sure as hell didn’t make it any more right in your mind.

You worked till 5 am basically every night of the week in the local hole in the wall bar, and you needed your beauty sleep to deal with the local drunkards without punching someone or something. Which was hard as hell when you were constantly awoken by classic rock songs after only four to five hours of sleep.

Groaning you let your head hit the pillow again, almost feeling the vibrations of the bass through your pillow due to the stupid, awful fact that your bedroom was wall-to-wall with his… Office? You didn’t really know. From what you understood the apartments were mirrored so his bedroom should be on the other side of the wall. But from the loud noise levels of music you heard almost every morning it almost seemed like you were wall to wall with a damned rock concert instead.

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Hiraeth | Pt.10

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | pt.6 | pt.7 | pt.8 | pt.9 | pt.10 | pt.11

Words: 7,272.

Genre: Zombie apocalypse au, angst.

Summary: A world full of dwindling hope and lost loves and yet you and Jungkook are all the other needs to feel at home.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language and violent themes).

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Cowboys and Angels

Credit to the late George Michael for the title.

“Are you serious.”
You blinked slowly, eyes looking up at the fluorescent lights. You had once again been thrown to the ground by your Commander, Reyes. A tan hand came into your vision and you gladly grabbed it, hoisting yourself up.
“Come on, Y/N. Look where I’m trying to attack. From what I’ve taught you you’ll then be able to defend.”
You readied your stance, one foot slightly forward, knees bent, arms in position.
“If I swing.. here-”
Your left arm moved to block the hit, a satisfying thud echoed.
“And if I swing here..”
Immediately you span your body round, dodging the next blow.
“Good.” Gabriel turned his side to you and stepped forwards, circling.
You followed him, stance still in it’s prime position and waiting for the next strike.
He span, body lowering and foot extended-
Those bloody fluorescent lights and the hard wooden floor and you were just sick of it.
“I’m done.” You stated, exasperated.
“We’re not done until I say we’re done, cariño.” He smirked.
You refused to move. Still lying on the ground, you crossed your arms and closed your eyes. A gentle nudge in your ribs made you turn on your side, curling up into yourself. Gabriel let out a deep sigh.
“Okay. Fine. We’re done.”
“Thank God.”

***

After your training session you had headed back to your room for a well needed shower. Not even through the door and you stripped off your fitted black Overwatch training vest, throwing it onto the floor. One by one you removed your trainers, socks, leggings and then sports bra before hopping into the shower and turning it up to a high heat. Steam and water poured over you, fingers running through your hair and just savouring the moment. You massaged shampoo into your locks, rinsing off dirt and grime of a hard days training. A dollop of conditioner massaged into the ends of your hair and you were ready to lather up your loofah and scrub yourself clean. A deep scrub all over your body, and you washed the rest of the conditioner out of your hair. Turning the shower off, you stepped out and grabbed the fluffy towels off of the radiator. One wrapped around your body and one wrapped around your hair. Trudging through to your bedroom, you flung yourself onto the bed and let out a sigh that you had been holding in.

After the last mission, Gabriel had decided it would be for the best for you to train in hand to hand combat, and for you to also move into the Watchpoint, as other agents had their own spaces there too. Saftey concerns were raised, and the contract for apartment was immediately cancelled, with bribing the landlord with a hefty sum of cash. Your room was slightly smaller than the apartment, however you enjoyed being closer to everyone. It felt safer. No more late nights walking down the streets of Gibralter.

You managed to squeeze out most of the excess water from your hair before chucking the towels on the floor and throwing on a pair of underwear and a loose top. Climbing under the covers, you rubbed your eyes and sumbitted to the darkness that was blissful sleep.

***

A rapid knocking on the door suddenly brought you out of your slumber.
“(Y/N)??”
More knocking. You threw the covers off of and stumbled to the door, glancing at your watch. Opening the door, you saw a panic-stricken McCree.
“What? I er- Jesse. It’s half three in the morning what do you wa-”
He barged past you, covering your mouth with his hand and slammed the door closed, then wrapping his robotic arm around your waist.
“Shh. Just.. shhh.”
If you were more awake you would have tried to break free, but only being woken not even a minute ago you succumbed to Jesse’s hold.
Heavy footsteps bounded down the hallway.
“Where the fuck did he go? He came down here.”
“Jesus, I mean, he could be anywhere.”
“Still on the Watchpoint though.”
A grunt from the second person and the footsteps led away from your room. You nudged Jesse in the ribs and he let go of you, taking a step back. You span around with an accusing finger pointing at him.
“Jesse bloody McCree you better explain to me right now-”
“Hey, (Y/N), don’t make me gag ya’ again.”
You stopped talking, standing still and blushing oh so slightly.
“Heh, yep. That’s what I thought.”
“What?”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing down slightly and smirked. Realisation hit and you crossed your arms over your thin shirt.
“It’s cold.” You snapped.
Of course it is.” He held his hands up in a mock surrender, chuckling. “Look, I don’t got a lotta time, but thanks for lettin’ me hide ‘n here, sweetpea.”
Your brows furrowed, cheeks warming at the nickname.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“Na, darlin’. Let’s just say some'o the other guys in Blackwatch ain’t too happy with me.”
“Oh. Is there anything I can do..?” You suggested meekly.
Jesse raised his eyebrow again, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“No. Jesse, no.” You pursed your lips. “That isn’t what I meant at all. I meant help with-”
“With what, doll?
“Nevermind. You obviously only seem to have one thing on your mind at the moment.”
Jesse smirked at your comment. “Well, sugar, when all you’re wearin’ is panties and a t-shirt, y'all ain’t leavin’ much to the imagination.”
Your mouth dropped slightly, cheeks blushing a deep red. You took in a deep breath.
“Jesse. Please. It’s too early. Go back to your room.”
Jesse chuckled, put two fingers up to his forehead in a mock salute and headed towards the door.
“Yes, ma'am.”
He opened the door and checked both ways down the hallway before turning his head to the side, looking over his shoulder. “Y'know, doll, I may have some competition.” He grabbed the handle and closed the door, leaving you in the middle of your room, barely dressed and barely able to comprehend what he just said.
“Sleep. That’s all I need.” You furrowed your brow and rubbed both of your eyes with your hands, taking small steps towards your bed.

***

“Sir. Really?”
Your arms are crossed and your left hip jutted out, your stance screaming attitide.
Gabriel chuckled. “What? Do you not like him?”
“I- no. It’s not that.”
Gabriel cocked his head and raised his eyebrow. “Oh, gatita, did he get to you?“
“He barged into my room at stupid o'clock in the morning and practically straight up said he wanted to- you know..”
“Ahah. Sí. I know.”
“So.. Why me?”
“I thought you could put up with his charms.”
I can.”
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem.”
You huffed. You clearly weren’t going to get your way, and Gabriel had assigned you to a mission with Jesse McCree.

***

Along with advanced combat and weapon training, you had also been teaching a new girl about your ‘old’ job. As Gabriel had unofficially recruited you into Blackwatch, with the permission of Morrison, you had reluctantly decided that it would be best to pass on your role to someone who could tackle it full time. It was difficult, as you loved your job, but you couldn’t pass the opportunity to progress even higher into Overwatch. You had to teach the newbie all that you could before you were sent out on your mission with McCree.
“You need to negotiate settlement terms, such as an ongoing discount with them or a discount if we pay early. Be creative; try and get some free shurikens thrown in if you can.”
The girl nodded, furiously taking notes on her holopad. It wasn’t often you had to deal with a new supplier, as in this business trade was loyal. However, one company may go down every now and then and you need to do research on finding a suitable replacement.

You looked over the girls notes, deeming them acceptable enough to make enough sense should she need to refer back.
“You’ve done well today. Go home, get some rest as we get onto actual buying tomorrow.”
She nodded, thanking you and packing up her belongings. You waited for her to leave the office before powering down the holopads and stretching. It’s been a long day.
Quickly tidying the desk to make it look presentable, you decided to head out towards the break room to grab a bottle of water. Pushing the door open, you looked around. You were slightly surprised that no one was in here, even considering how late it was. Usually people were milling around for late night snacks or socialising. One foot in the door and something cold touched the back of your neck. You instinctively raised both your hands, heart pounding.
Reach for the sky.
You immediately dropped your hands.
“For fuck sake, McCree. Can you not?”
You carried on walking over to the vending machine to grab a bottle.
“I have enough on my fucking plate as it is, I don’t need to be threat-”
“(Y/N). Stop. Was just a joke.”
“Yeah, well, it was one of your funnier ones.”
“Darlin’, that was cold.”
You turned around to face him, water bottle in hand. He was standing there with his stupid cowboy hat in his hands, eyes wide. You actually felt a bit of remorse.
“Sorry.. Jesse..”
“No, doll, it was my bad. I know you been jugglin’ things and I shouldn’t'a done that. I guess I’ll jus’.. Walk away..” Smiling slightly.
Don’t let his sarcasm get to you.
You pointedly stop and stare at him with a bored look on your face. He raises an eyebrow, the corners of his lips turning up slightly showing his teeth.
“I can’t work with you if you’re going to act like that.”
“Like what, sweetpea?” Amusement laced his southern drawl.
“Like, this.” You gestured generally in his direction, clearly exasperated.
He was still smirking, but his eyebrow raised in slight confusion.
“You don’t like me?”
“No. Yes. I don’t-”
McCree chuckled. “Y'ain’t the first to get flustered around me, doll.”
“I’m not flustered.”
“What’s with the red cheeks then?”
You blinked and took in a deep breath. “This is supposed to be a strictly professional relationship and you go around barging into my room at stupid o'clock in the morning and then getting a laugh out of making me nearly shit myself.”
“Am I not allowed to have a lil’ fun?”
“Yes, but-”
“But what?”
People need to stop interrupting you, you thought. A small, impatient growl released from your throat and you went to storm past him. It seems he didn’t want you to, a tanned muscular arm blocking your path.
Move.”
McCree let out another deep chuckle.
“Nope. Y'all ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til you tell me.”
You glanced down to your water bottle in your right hand. Thinking quick, you raised it above your head as though ready to strike him-
He was faster. Jesse caught your wrist with his robotic hand, you dropping your bottle in surprise. He then crouched slightly, catching you off guard and all of a sudden you’re over his shoulder with your bottle forgotten on the floor.
“JESSE MCCREE.”
“Hmm?”
“Put me down this instant .” You wiggled your legs, simultaneously attempting to whack him on the back in the hopes that he’d put you back on solid ground. He was incredibly amused. Jesse’s toned arm was wrapped around the backs of your thighs to stop you from falling, dangerously close to your bottom. You squirmed some more; you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

He started walking out of the mess hall, whistling a tune. You huffed. All you could see was where you came from and it seemed he had no aim in sight as to where you would end up. He took a couple of turns, when he stopped suddenly.
“Sir.”
“McCree. What are you doing?”
You recognised the voice as Gabriel’s and you perked up.
“TellhimtoputmedownPLEASE.” You exclaimed, frantically trying to release yourself from his grasp. All you heard was a small snort coming from the Blackwatch commander.
“Carry on.”
Whatever looks were exchanged between them, you didn’t know. However, you made sure to give Gabriel a good thump on the arm as McCree casually walked past him.
“You betrayed me.”
“Cariño, I would never betray you.” A hint of humour in his voice. “Trust him.” He stood in the hallway with his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly looking at you. One corner of his mouth was pulled up, a half smile forming.
You let out another huff, accepting you had to go wherever McCree took you. He took you round another corner and you recognised it as the corridor where your room was.
“What’s the code to your room?”
“Like I’d tell you.”
You thought he’d put you down here so you could put it in. Nope. Jesse turned around so you were in front of your door, keypad just high enough to enter the code. Your brows cross in defeat.
“It’s open.”
He spins around again, too quickly that some of your hair gets caught in your mouth. You manage the catch the door and slam it when he crosses the threshold. Only now does he tenderly lower you down so you’re back on your feet. One look at him and you close your eyes slowly, turning to walk to your bedroom.
“Wait.”
You turn on your heels, snapping your eyes open and looking at him expectantly.
You’re welcome.
“For what?” You asked flatly.
“Carryin’ you back to your room. You looked mighty tired back there ‘nd thought I could help.”
“Right.”
Wait.”
You brought your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. He stalks over to you, lifting his human hand to your face. Eyes widen and you flinch slightly, lowering your hand. He only brushed some of your hair that was still caught on your lips.
“There.”
His hand lingered for a few seconds more than what should have been appropriate; fingers ghosting over your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered, not used to the gentle contact.
“I knew it.”
Once again your eyes shot open, looking into his.
“You can’t resist me.”
“You just touched me in a way that I haven’t been touched in a while is all.” You spat out, swatting his hand away.
“Of course, darlin’.” A grin spreading across his face.
“Professional.”
“Always am.” He tips his head and makes his way to your door. “Lookin’ forward to working together.”
He closes the door behind him and you hear a faint whistling as he strolls away. You hate to admit it, but he was right. You were shattered from doing your full time job and training in the evenings. Rubbing your eyes with your hands, you headed towards your bed to get some well needed sleep.

Limerance

Kallias and Viviane’s story, because these two stole my heart and I can’t resist writing them! This is going to be a prequel to the events of ACOWAR so be prepared for the journey of a precious friendship formed and lasting bond that will tie them together for eternity!

Chapter 1: Serendipity 

The Winter Court was vibrant today. The small city in the open snowy landscape was busy with trade. Residents of the city walked the streets with their pale bodies almost blending into the snow falling from the sky. Voices intermingled with the busy market noises as furs were swapped for precious metals to be forged into weapons or jewelry.

Overlooking the city a boy sat looking outside one of the tall glass windows of the castle. His white hair hung loose around his pointed ears as his blue eyes watched for anything that could seemingly pull him from his boredom.

Today had already been filled with lessons on court etiquette at his father and mother’s request. Of course their requests were considered orders to those that served them. For they were the High Lord and Wife that ruled the Winter Court.

And Kallias was their sole heir.

“Sir Kallias,” a female fae stepped forward and gave a slight bow of respect to the eight year old who didn’t spare her a glance.

“What is it?” Kallias asked still looking outside.

“The High Lord and his wife have dismissed your lessons for the day,” the fae responded. “They have guests today that will require your tutor’s attention.”

Kallias nodded. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence and Kallias was an apt enough learner that he already memorized the text that would have been discussed today.  Perhaps now he could walk outside to his heart’s content after having been cooped up inside this past week.

“You’re free to go,” Kallias dismissed the fae who promptly returned to whatever task she had been doing before she was sent as messenger.

With as much calmness Kallias could muster he walked down the long hall and obtained his dark grey fur cloak with blue stitching. He snuck outside the servant’s tunnel that led to the gardens.

Though these gardens were nothing like the Spring Court’s.  Here the snow covered grey stone pathways that wove between evergreen hedges and the occasional burst of red from winterberry trees.

He breathed a sigh of relief. His breath pluming in a little fog from his lips as he walked around one of the large pine trees in the garden.

Suddenly his ears picked up a noise. A tinkling noise similar to bells that were usually placed out for festivals. It was a beautiful sound and Kallias slowly followed it.
His hands went to the small dagger at his hip. He was trained in combat, but he knew from his instructors that it was better to avoid a confrontation with physical blows. Even his magical abilities were a bit rough, but that was better than nothing.

He rounded the corned and froze at what he glimpsed between the brambles of a bush.

A young girl that was not quite his age was spinning in the snow. Her long white hair twirling and catching snowflakes that made her hair glitter in the sunlight.

And then her laugh.

Kallias stared in awe. Listening with wonder at this magical fae before him. He almost thought her to be a nymph from the stories his nursemaid used to tell him as a toddler.

Deep in his chest something tugged at him. Go to her.

He took one silent step forward. Then another. Hoping not to startle the girl. But for all his training he still stepped on a branch that snapped loudly under his foot.

Immediately the girl stopped. Her dark blue dress swirled around her knees until the folds rested against her brown boots.

The garden was quiet. So silent that Kallias could hear the girl’s breath as she settled from her exuberant spinning.

“You’re…” Kallias sought for something to say. Even his intensive reading offered him no help as he stood blinking at the girl before him. He swallowed down his nerves and realized that this was the first fae child he had ever met around his age.

Children were a rarity. Among the Winter Court that was even truer from the harsh weather that offered no forgiveness to those that succumbed to it. Even Kallias’s older brother had fallen to Winter’s deathly kiss not long after Kallias was born.

Still this girl…she was so… “You’re little,” Kallias whispered without another thought.

The girl blinked in shock and bounded over to him. Her feet giving a slight skip as she stopped in front of him. Her face mere inches from his face that Kallias was too shocked to even back away from her forwardness.

Who was she that she dared to share the same breath as he? The High Lord’s son and heir?

“I’m taller than you!” The little girl said happily with a smile. “See!”

At the Kallias realized what her intentions were for her nearness. And even more disturbing was that she was indeed a few inches taller. Much to Kallias’s sudden disappointment.

He brushed away her hand that hovered above their hands to show evidence of just how much taller she was.

“So?” Kallias said. “I bet I’m older than you.” For some reason Kallias felt the need to prove something to this girl who gave him a full grin.

“I’m six,” the girl responded.

“And I’m eight,” Kallias crossed his arms proudly as if he won the Winter Solstice sled racing tournament.

“Wow you are old!” The girl laughed and for a moment Kallias wondered if she meant it to be and insult, but her smile said otherwise. As if she was teasing him.

But then she grabbed his pale hands with her gloved ones and gave him a pleading look. “Will you play with me? All the others inside say they can’t or are too old, but you’re not right?”

“I – ugh,” Kallias had rarely ever stammered in his life. He couldn’t even remember the last time it happened, but looking at his hands wrapped in her fingers thoughts flew away from him. “You shouldn’t hold my hand.”

“Why?” The girl asked. Then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re like those other boys that are afraid of girls right.”

“Why would I be afraid of girls?” Kallias asked. How could I be afraid of you? As if it was possible to be frightened of the female that stood before him with bright eyes shining in the evening sun. 

Instead of voicing his thoughts he added a different reasoning instead. “Besides it’s not proper for us to whole hands.”

“So you won’t play with me?” The girl visibly deflated in her happiness. Her blue eyes dulling with each passing second.

Awkwardly Kallias shuffled his feet. “Well it’s just that…I’ve never played with anyone before.”

“Really?” The girl cocked her head to the side. “Isn’t that lonely?”

Kallias opened his mouth to say that he is always busy with lessons so how could he be lonely, but then it hit him. He was lonely. Walking the halls with no one to play games with or steal cookies from the kitchen after they had been baked.

“I am alone…” Kallias admitted dazedly at his realization and looked down at his feet. Unsure of what to do with the wave of sadness rising in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. One day he would be High Lord and these emotions would need to be locked away since they showed weakness.

But then the fingers holding his own tightened and he glanced up to see the girl giving him a small smile. He could feel the warmth of it. How it eased his worries in a single second.

“Then I’ll be your first friend,” she said with a tinge of excitement and hope. “I’m Viviane. What’s your name?”

“Kallias,” he answered and squeezed her hand back. It wasn’t like the handshakes he was taught to do by his elders, but this felt special. Far more important than any handshake he would ever have to do in the future.

“Come on then!” She tugged him into the open space. “Let’s play tag!”

She took off running and he readily gave chase after a moment’s pause to consider the options. But he found not better choice than to run among the hedges with this free-spirited girl.

Viviane.

Soon Kallias began to laugh with her. Filling the garden with a wonderful noise as two souls began a journey that would be filled with happiness and loss. As children they were naïve to the world’s horrors. It would be many years before their peace was shattered into broken shards that would rattle their friendship to the core.

personal dark headcanons

                  ○ Similar to Mark’s hair being dyed constantly, Dark’s fringe can change colors depending on his mood. Red when he’s angry, pink when he’s loved, blue when he’s sad, a dark purple color when he’s passionate. For the most part, his fringe stays black, but when he feels an emotion strongly it switches. It’s how Warf and Anti identify his moods, even when Dark doesn’t want to talk about it in the least. 

                 ○ Warf and Host helped to develop a shell to contain Dark’s anger and much more demonic side. Whenever it shatters, Dark glitches out at points where he’s screaming and fighting, and then brings himself back in. Only Warf and Host can put it back together, and Dark rarely lets anyone touch him when the shell is broken. 

                 ○ Dark and Warf both run Egos Inc, and are in the business of buying, selling, and trading souls and the soul pool in hell.