#And the salary spreadsheet from last year

[jungshookz]

teeny tidbits: namjoon wants a raise & y/n is kind of scary

i watched the proposal again recently + i’ve been on depop trying not to spend a million dollars on all the y2k corporate-core clothes = inspired me to write this snippet of ceo!y/n (you all know i have a soft spot for anything ceo i’m sorry) 

“ever since you hired me, i’ve managed to boost sales up by approximately 28%-“ namjoon clears his throat, trying his best to continue standing tall as he points to the screen with his little laser pen, “i’ve been working here for nearly a year and a half which you can argue hasn’t been very long, but at the same time i feel as though my efforts and the results that i’ve produced is well deserving of a raise, miss y/l/n. i wasn’t going to say anything but i’ve actually been offered a position elsewhere with a higher salary, and, well- i do enjoy working here, and i would like to stay here, but-“ 

you lean back against your office chair, propping both elbows up on the arm chairs before pressing your fingertips together, staring intently at the presentation in front of you 

your eyes follow the little red dot darting across the screen and you lick over your teeth as your head tilts to the side slightly 

“-so, what do you think?” namjoon reaches the end of his presentation and tucks his pen into his shirt pocket, very much aware of how much heat is radiating off his body from the nerves 

he’s heard some things about people who’ve tried to ask for raises, and making the bold move of coming directly to you has historically never ended very well for those guys 

jungkook presses the button for the lights to turn on and the blinds to roll back up from where he’s standing by the front door, offering namjoon a smile and a supportive nod 

at least five seconds of silence linger in the air and namjoon wonders if you’re able to hear his heart practically beating out of his chest 

you’ve also been maintaining eye contact with him the entire time he’s presented which makes him ten times as nervous because he’ll be the first to admit you have very nice eyes 

“…i think all of this could’ve been an email, kim.” you lean forward, office chair squeaking slightly as you swipe your phone off the table and unlock it, “the next time you want something, i don’t need a thirty-eight minute presentation on why you think you deserve it.” 

“ma’am?” namjoon’s face reddens and suddenly it feels like the collar of his button-up is suffocating him 

“who’s trying to poach you from me?” 

“i-if you don’t mind, i’d like to keep that detail priv-“ namjoon immediately stops talking when your eyes flicker up from your phone to look at him through your eyebrows, “ah- min corporations, miss y/l/n. i was contacted by their secretary last week.” 

“mm, i’ve spoken to that secretary. preppy little thing.” you snort, eyebrow raising slightly at the memory of the one time you got a call on your personal cell phone from min corporations (you’re not even sure how that secretary got your damn number in the first place) inviting you to a lunch with mr. min yoongi himself 

you went, of course, more than surprised to discover that the secretary wasn’t just his secretary but also his wife and the mother of his (adorable) daughter 

you don’t know how she managed to go from secretary all the way to wife/mother but hat’s off to her for pulling that off

with that being said you’re sure that if she spoke three decibels higher all the dogs in the city would start barking and all the windows in your office would’ve cracked 

“you’re a hard worker. i like having you on my team.” you set your phone face down on your desk, “get back to work. we can discuss numbers another day because if you make me look at another excel spreadsheet i might change my mind.” 

“oh, i- thank you so much, miss y/l/n, i really appreciate it! thank you so much-“ namjoon fumbles with the projector and switches it off, a weight instantly lifted off his shoulders at the implication that he will, in fact, be getting a raise 

“mm.” you gesture with a flick of your wrist for him to leave your office as you raise your phone to your ear, “min yoongi! trying to steal my star salesman, are you?” 

jungkook opens the door for namjoon, stepping aside to let him out before shutting the door behind him quietly 

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” jungkook beams, giving namjoon a hearty pat on the arm, “congratulations on the raise!” 

“i think i need to take a shot or something, that was- so stressful.” namjoon lets out a breath, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly, “god, she really- her eye contact is crazy intense sometimes-“ 

“it’s probably the eyeliner in her waterline making her look ten times scarier, you’ll survive-“ 

🎙️ ask y/n for eyeliner recommendations (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to your other faves!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

[kiefbowl]

They’ve fired close to 20 ppl at my job in the last 3 weeks including a senior manager. I do my job well but can’t help but feel nervous even after being told I’m safe (I’ve believed that lie before). Everyone is tense a distrustful.

Any advice on navigating this situation?

Make sure your work is visible, as in if there’s anything you’ve been doing on the low or anything you’ve slowly become the expert or go-to person on, draw attention to it. It’s as simple as saying things like “I’ve finished xyz” as if you just want to be accountable and transparent for everyone else’s sake.

The important thing to not be laid off is to be someone who can’t be lost, which means doing work that is invaluable. Things that are hard to onboard people into, knowledge that’s hard to transfer, etc. That does become easier the longer you’re at a job. Look for ways that your job impacts revenue, and always be ready to speak towards it. One of the reasons that marketing usually goes out the door first is that they spend a lot of money, and it’s only indirectly tied to revenue. The sweet spot is to be cheaper labor (in the grand scheme of things) while directly tied to revenue: I make sales, I create product, I shepherd the pipeline, I close invoices, etc. If you see an opening or need like that in your job, express interest in cross training. If you’ve been following the big tech cuts this year, they’re not gutting hourly workers who directly impact customer experience or tangible product creators, they’re firing middle management. That’s not to say being a manager is bad, but the hierarchy can get bloated in hearty times, and if there’s a supervisor, then a lead, then a senior lead, then a manager, then a director, in hard times the question is “why can’t the supervisor answer to the director? Why do we have so many people in this chain?” especially as those middle management positions getting further from the day-to-day yet not quite in business development decision making positions. So you have to ask yourself, what value are you bringing the organization? How much can you speak towards boots-on-the-ground tasks of the day to day that makes money for the company? Make sure you don’t lose sight of that as you move up or even laterally.

As an example: say you work for a software manufacturer, and support calls that come in get logged into tickets that are then charged back to the clients who buy the software for their company. If you are picking up phone calls and logging tickets, you’re grunt work but you’re doing billable work, the company doesn’t want to lose too many of those people. Let’s say there are supervisors to these people, that also take support calls but only half the time bc they’re managing everyone’s breaks, stepping into thorny calls, doing hands on training and mentoring, doing operations stuff no one really wants to do like proofread tickets and compiling metrics, but these are things the clients ask for so it’s important to maintaining those relationships. Now let’s say there are two managers to this group, and neither of them take support calls, they don’t do any billable work, but one has been doing the bulk of liasioning with clients while the other is spending a lot of time approving time off and making spreadsheets from the metrics the supervisors pull and has been handing off some of the client communications to his colleague or even some of the supervisors directly under him. If both these managers are getting paid the same, he’s at the most risk bc the question becomes how do we consolidate non-billable work under fewer salaries - “can no one else learn to do these spreadsheets? Can manager #1 not do all the time off requests?”

The other advice is to not panic. :) Every day you work at this job is a day to squeeze it for what it’s worth for YOUR benefit. If your job needs to do a round of lay-offs now, it might be worth it to ask yourself instead of “am I safe?” to “is this company surviving long term?” and make whatever maneuvers you need to make to get a job with more security. Good luck!!

[glimmerofsanity]

Don't mind me, I'm just gonna vent

So we just had our census over here and obviously it asked us questions about our jobs, including salary. I work at an accounting place as an office assistant/receptionist and for the last year and a half payroll person. I process payroll for 15 different clients, businesses with anywhere between 1 and 30 employees, with record management ranging from anywhere between full timesheets/spreadsheets and an email saying pay Bob for 4 hours. I hate it, it's stressful and carries too much responsibility for someone who has zero background in taxes and the Holidays Act. I only took on the additional work after the old payroll person went on maternity leave, and it was the second time my boss asked me to take on the role, so I felt vaguely pressured into it. However, looking at the census question about salary and seeing the salary brackets I realise I'm severely underpaid. They only wanted me to take the job cause I'm cheaper than a new hire, especially when they've got payroll experience. I kinda forgot about how low my salary is (I don't spend a lot of money, I pay my partner and he pays for everything) cause despite the fact that we process payroll for other people, we don't even get payslips and that also means I have no way to track my leave (apparently they track it in a very crude spreadsheet which was lost during the ransomware attack). I'm getting real sick of them taking advantage of my good nature and the fact that I quietly do my work without any fuss (cause they have zero culture and support, there were 3 of us in the office today, and none of us spoke). I hate the responsibility that comes with payroll, people yelling at me cause they didn't get paid cause their boss didn't give me their actual name and someone else was paid by mistake, bosses arguing with me saying an employees final pay has to be wrong cause they can't afford a $10k payout, while I'm having to Google the legislation to ensure the software has calculated everything right cause I have no idea. I am not paid enough to deal with this shit, especially as I process six-figure bonus payments and the client wants to skirt the law and not attract certain deductions for it. I want out of this job, and I vow I will never have to pre-process 4 weeks of holiday payrolls in the space of 2 weeks again! By Christmas I will be gone.

[coochiequeens]

A nice story about women helping women

Inlate January of this year, the Biden Administration began "inviting ordinary Americans to help settle Afghan refugees in America." Dubbed the "Welcome Corps," the initiative asks citizens to support refugees financially and in all other ways e.g. providing food, clothing, secure housing, education, health care (including mental health care), transportation, employment, and hospitality. The new "private sponsorship initiative" experts suggest that at least five people are needed in order to "welcome" and successfully sponsor one Afghan refugee or an Afghan family in America.

I strongly disagree. In the case of my one, adopted Afghan granddaughter, Meena, at least twenty to twenty-five volunteers from around the world were essential in getting Meena and her family out of Kabul; and more volunteers joined our efforts along the way, including new and generous donors, and a new team of pro bono lawyers who are working on Meena's application for asylum in America.

Some of our initial team's volunteers, who worked for NGOs or for various European governments, were on salary but were not necessarily reimbursed for their time or efforts in this regard. Some had experience in anti-trafficking work and petitioned their governments to accept our women judges, doctors, lawyers, journalists, business owners, and artists—all of whom were women's rights activists. We gathered information from American ex-military service members, corporate honchos, and human rights activists. We had a narrow window of opportunity, about six months, until refugees from Ukraine began pouring into Europe.

"I had a group of feminist women who wanted to save me and my dreams, and they did."

Once I understood that Meena, a medical school graduate, had also worked in Afghanistan as a researcher and translator for an American-based professor, I haunted the poor man. Jean-Francois Trani came through brilliantly. Professor Trani obtained a student visa and a scholarship for Meena at Washington University in St. Louis—a very fine and a very expensive school. Her scholarship only covers tuition, nothing else, not rent, food, books, computer upgrades, school fees, an expensive mandatory health insurance policy ($2800.00 per year), toiletries, clothing—just on and on. What one needs in order to live and to devote oneself, full-time to study.

Meena writes: 

Mandy Sanghera, a London-based human rights activist and philanthropist, and myself literally worked around the clock for more than six months rescuing 400 other Afghan women. I had a paid assistant who created spreadsheets in order to keep track of the biographies and ID information for at least 100 women and who tried to keep our correspondence on Signal, WhatsApp, and email in order. In fact, Mandy and I are still inundated with pleas for help from Afghan women who are living in hiding and in terror.

One amazing woman (whom I cannot name) got Meena and many others out on planes. Three amazing men and one woman were in charge of food and medicine drops. They also delivered wood in winter and had a network of doctors who delivered babies and did surgical procedures when necessary. One woman served as Meena's mental health counselor. Another served as her English tutor. Those who read my articles up at 4W contributed money to a war chest which was used primarily by our former lawyer at a time when, unfortunately, the Biden Administration was granting only a handful of Humanitarian Parole applications.

More wonderful women joined us. One, Penny Wilson, donated her frequent flyer miles and her administrative expertise. Another long-time feminist colleague of mine, a retired professor of Literature, Lilia Milani, pledged to cover Meena's rent for the year. I named some more names in my previous piece here up at 4W.

Last month, I decided to bring as many members of this team together to finally meet Meena in person in my home. I thought they deserved to know her—and she them. The founder of 4W, MK Fain came—and indeed, 4W is where I posted almost all my articles and a good number of 4W readers sent funds. We zoomed in Meena's mental health counselor and the woman who got her on the plane, who was in Africa at the time.

The women who gathered were so excited to meet Meena—and she them. They took her sightseeing in Manhattan: On a walking tour of Grand Central Terminal, Rockefeller Center, Times Square—Macy's! I introduced her to my son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughters and they took her to the Metropolitan Museum. I think a good time was had by all.

"We need to have an honest conversation about refugee education."

Penny suggested that we all go around the table, from oldest to youngest, and give Meena one piece of advice. And so we did. Penny brought a multitude of beautiful silk scarves, and we each got to pick one for ourselves. Meena got all the rest.

Mandy writes:

Meena has gotten all "A"s in her classes. She is now working for ten hours a week for a professor and may be allowed to work for a maximum of twenty hours but no more. This may— or may not—cover her food and toiletries.

Attached is a GoFundMe campaign for Meena. Please consider making a donation to support her ongoing expenses. It will help all of us to carry on. Meena will go the distance and make us all proud, but she needs financial assistance for legal filing fees, and for much else. These funds will go directly into her bank account. 

Oh—and what advice did I give Meena? I told her that she can thank me by freeing and supporting another woman.

[digitalnomadhub]

Errr Negative Thoughts

Kahit na I practice gratitude, hindi ko pa rin maiwasan maoverpower ng negative thoughts. I was triggered by someone na may utang sakin and naisip ko ang money ko ngayon na nabawasan pa savings ko. Hindi ko mabalik yung balance ng bank ko.

Tapos yung 200K na nagastos ko sa shopping as of August. Haha Hays. Mas madali ako nakamove on sa utang ng parents ko kahit mas malaki pa kasi I have no control over that pero iniisip ko ngayon na sana di ko nagastos or bat ba ko napabili ng mga ganito. Kung sana tinipid ko na lang o ininvest sa ibang bagay. Hindi ko tuloy nasimulan yung work ko kakaisip kung paano ko mabubuo yung balance ko. Goal ko pa naman makaipon ng 500K to 1M.

May travel pa ko sa Japan and Baguio. Pero last naman na this year.

How can I learn from my 2024 experience?

Una, thankful ako sa 2023 and sa salary increase dahil malaki ang naipon ko at ito ang nagsave sakin kahit na nagoverspend talaga ko this year, hindi ako naging broke. Nabawasan lang savings at hindi napaayos yung house huhu. Para tuloy wala akong effort itaas ang finances ko this year or magimprove man lang pero siguro this lesson will grow my money exponentially next year. Manifesting!

Second, over time, at least this August, hindi December haha. I am beginning to understand what decisions led me to this place so I can avoid going back here. Hindi na ulit magooverspend or magja-Japan every quarter or mapo FOMO.

Third, mas naging maayos ang spreadsheet ko at nanotice ko din yung signs na kakabahan na talaga ko kasi hindi na ko advance magbayad at nagaabang na ng sweldo. Kaya nagiging emotional ngayon na dati naman, wala kong pake. Ngayon, sakto lang sa bills yung income na dumarating. Mapifree up naman yung bills after 2 months kaya looking forward ako na mabalik din ang ipon.

Lastly, I am accepting na din na hindi na mababalik yun and I can only do something now kesa magcontemplate sa past. I want to make better actions moving forward. 20s pa naman ako. Laban lang.

So according to chatgpt, here are the things I will do from now on.

Reframe Negative Thoughts: When you find yourself dwelling on negative thoughts, try to reframe them in a more positive light. Ask yourself "How else could I look at this situation?"

Limit Negative Input: Be mindful of the media, news, and people you surround yourself with. Try to limit exposure to overly negative content and people.

Celebrate Small Wins: Don't just focus on big achievements. Recognize and celebrate the small positive things that happen each day.

Use Positive Affirmations: Repeat positive statements to yourself, such as "I am capable" or "Good things are coming my way." This can help shift your mindset.

Practice Mindfulness: Being present in the moment can help you appreciate the positive aspects of your current situation, rather than dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.

Seek out Positivity: Surround yourself with uplifting books, podcasts, and people who inspire you and make you feel good.

The key is to make a conscious effort to shift your focus and train your brain to notice the good things in your life, even when it's easier to dwell on the negative. With consistent practice, you can rewire your brain to have a more positive outlook.

Sana makatulong ito paunti-unti para hindi na rin ako masyadong affected. After all, I can't do something about it (for now). Thankful pa rin sa lahat ng nangyari sa kabila ng lahat.

[thereddkoi]

New short story preview

Currently working on another short horror-adjacent story before I start on the Wrath Star Chronicles, my next novel series. Title is still pending, but here's sneak peak into a WIP:

It took Hannah about a week to get all her furniture set up and begin the job. There was no office to go into, The company mailed her a brand new laptop that she would be doing all her work through. She had no coworkers or colleagues, instead she would be reporting to a faceless manager through online messages. This arrangement set off alarm bells in Hannah’s head again, but those were quickly silenced when she saw the first paycheck in her bank account. Nearly quadruple her old salary.

It was like this that the days slowly drifted by. Each morning she would receive a email with a large attachment. Most of the expenditures she saw were standard: employee salary, rent, utility bills. Yet sometimes, a strange, expensive item would appear in the spreadsheets. They were always cryptically labeled, sometimes elaborate like “Unexpected Complications Restitution”. Other times they were simply “fees”. Nevertheless these often totaled hundreds of thousands, if not millions. Hannah treated them like anything else. Her mind always did wander and speculate on the true nature, but her manager was always tight lipped. They never answered these type of questions.

It was about five months in, when Hannah first saw the school eat someone. She had just come back from a shopping trip in town and pulled into her driveway to see a moving truck parked a few houses down on a side street. Hannah’s curiosity was immediately piqued, as for what kind of person would move here, was it perhaps another coworker?

The man that stepped onto the lawn of the newly purchased house was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and sun bleached jeans. Over his eyes, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses, his hair was a shaggy blonde mess, and his skin was well tanned from years in direct sun. His entire appearance suggested someone who wouldn’t venture anywhere north of the tropics, yet here he was, moving into a new house in the heart of the mid-west. Hannah’s eye brows scrunched together. Then just as quickly as he appeared, the man vanished, scurrying inside with great haste. A few minutes later, the truck drove off without unloading a single box.

The entire episode had lasted no more than fifteen minutes, yet greatly unsettled Hannah. Everything that just happened was incredibly strange, and she could not get the image of the man rushing inside the house out of her mind. He looked so eager to go inside of an empty building, far too eager. But it wouldn’t be until after nightfall that her suspicions would be proven right.

Hannah was walking past the hallway window on the second floor as she had done so many nights before, when she sensed something out of place. A bright light streamed in through the window, a light coming from the school. Hannah frowned and rushed into the unoccupied guest bedroom to look out the larger windows. From her vantage point, Hannah could see that every window in the school now had its curtains drawn back. Pale florescent lighting illuminated the disheveled interior and poured onto the unkempt lawns around the building. Hannah felt a chill down her spine. There was not a single person in any of the rooms. Then from across the street, the man who had just moved in stepped out of the house. Hannah turned her head, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He gazed at the lit up school ontop of the small rise, and then got into his car, drove a few hundred feet into the school’s drop off drive, and stepped out. For a moment, he was un-moving. Then, with a clang the front doors slammed open, pouring sickly yellow-green light onto the concrete. The man’s body tensed in excitement. Then he broke into a made sprint towards the entrance.

Hannah didn’t see him enter. As soon as his foot touched the threshold, the lights instantly went out. Hannah nearly jumped in shock and rubbed her eyes to clear the after images. When she could finally see clearly again, the school had returned to normal. There were no signs of life, and she could even see the curtains pulled tightly over the nearest windows. Hannah did not get much sleep that night.

[flowgreys]

Personal budget template excel

For example, it could be from salary, house rent, or a loan on interest.Ĭreating this list in the Excel spreadsheet. First, we must not list the expenses but list the income sources.The negative amount in red shows decrease, and positive shows increase. Row 49 is again formula based which shows the money left after meeting the savings target, and if it is in red, which is negative, it means that the person has not met his/her saving target in that month.Īlso, there is one more column P, which shows month over month variance, which is again formula based and shows the increase or decrease from last month. Row 47 has target savings, which $3,000 in this case, but a person using the template can amend it to a savings amount of their choice. In other words, row 46, which is also formula based shows the money left in the hands of a person after incurring all the expenses. Then we have savings on row 42, which shows the difference between income and expenses. You can always add the total columns for various expense heads also. Row 44 shows the total expenses, and it is formula based. Starting row 12 to 42, we have various kind of expenses which you can modify as per your needs. You can change the type of receipt in column A and row 10 has a formula that adds up to Total receipts. In the template row, 5 to 9 has various types of Incomes and receipts. This template can be used by Individuals for tracking their day to day expenses and also by small businesses to track their expenses and receipts. How to use this Personal Budget Planner Template? read more and year over year analysis, which will help in accurately tracking down the expenses and meet any sudden expenditure by accumulating the saving amount over a period of time. This chart also helps in calculation of month over month variance analysis Variance Analysis Variance analysis is the process of identifying and analyzing the difference between the standard numbers that a company expects to accomplish and the actual numbers that they achieve, in order to help the firm analyze positive or negative consequences. For example, in the month of July, the person can say that my monthly expenditure is close to $5.7K, and next time if he/she definitely wants to meet the savings target, they might have to adjust or cut down on some of the expenses. This data can be utilized to calculate the monthly expenses by taking an average. It shows that in those two months, the person has less income from business and that why he fell short of savings. If we see the April and May months data, the target saving is short by $73 & $51, respectively. This template helps in tracking monthly expenses and also shows the months where the target savings were not met. In this case, the person earns an average of $8,892 per month, had a target savings of $3,000, and an average monthly expense is $5,681. They can also change the range to see the average of any period they want to see and analyze. Any person using this personal budget spreadsheet template has to, only, enter the expense and income amount and adjust the formulas given in the excel template, and it will show the total and average of the income and expenses. Now, if we look at the chart, it shows the monthly expenses from Jan to June, the excel template attached here shows January to December, but for convenience, the table in word shows from January to June for six months. The chart is not exclusive, but a person can always make changes and include the multiple heads of expenses that they incur. In the above example, we see the receipts from salary and business and various types of expenses.

[official-alan-dabiri]

Jesus Christ Blizzard What The Fuck

Alright, I just want to get my thoughts down on this because acknowledging it is mandatory and the more I think about it the more I have to think about it and holy shit. Jesus Christ Blizzard what the fuck.

Before the cut, the most important thing to say is that down here as physical people on the ground, our individual mental health matters more than making a gesture that might not mean anything. If thinking about the shit that happened hurts you, do yourself a favor and don’t think about it. Don’t worry: plenty of other people are being emotionally consumed by it at every hour of the day!

Additionally, if you want or need to be playing Heroes of the Storm - or whatever other games Blizzard made, if any - for your own mental, social, or emotional well-being, you aren’t morally obligated to stop. Do what you gotta do to make it day to day, okay? Obviously if you can stop giving them money, that would be great - some proportion of that money will indirectly go towards paying the lawyers who will be trying to dodge facing consequences for these actions. But please secure your own orcs-ygen mask before assisting others.

The second most important thing to say is that I wholeheartedly condemn the actions described in the DFEH investigation. The vast majority of those behaviors are monstrous and unforgivable, and the only thing worse is the implication - true or not - that Blizzard’s management and HR department either participated or was complicit in them.

With those matters said, I’ll put the rest under the cut to spare you all the dash space.

In case it needs to be said again: I am not Alan Dabiri. This blog is not affiliated in any capacity with Blizzard. I’m just some guy copying something cool I saw a lesbian do.

For the sake of everyone’s mental health, I’m not going to go into details about the report. If you want details, they’re all over the internet, but be warned that they range from frustrating to enraging to nauseating. Just searching for “Blizzard Scandal” isn’t specific enough, so I will say - for future generations who might be scrolling back and reading this in 2022, after “Blizzard Scandal” brings up a whole new thing - that this is in reference to the California DFEH discrimination lawsuit, wherein a 2-year investigation led to a laundry list of crimes committed by Blizzard and Blizzard employees against the women who worked there. Some of these are labor crimes, some of these are just dick moves, and some of them are seriously dark shit that’s going to haunt me every time a Blizzard game’s story decides that the only thing they can do with a woman is have her go crazy and get killed. What immediately followed was an outpouring of more horrifying stories across social media from others who worked for Blizzard, whose experiences were not included in the report.

Blizzard’s statements in response to the suit are a mixed bag. For one thing, they outright deny all the charges, insisting that many of the claims are distorted, out of context, factually incorrect, or - the most irrelevant kind of accusation - old. They hide behind an updated Code of Conduct and new training standards rather than do anything to acknowledge any of the wrongdoing. (Because no one would ever know that [redacted] was a morally disgusting crime unless an HR video told them!) Their statement instead points fingers at the state and their “unaccountable bureaucrats” driving businesses out of California. It’s the most childish response imaginable, and makes the whole thing look even worse than it already did. When you are accused of ignoring mistreatment of a specific group of employees, perhaps the correct response isn’t to ignore the accusations altogether and whine that you’re being bullied by law enforcement.

That said, the Blizzard response does have a grain of truth to it. The DFEH’s filing is outside of normal protocol. After the investigation, the DFEH’s normal procedure is to work with the company, resolving claims and concerns with them directly before moving to litigation, if necessary. Further speculation online has been that the state of California may be trying to make an example out of Blizzard. The games industry has long been full of this exact kind of discrimination and harassment. Coming down on Blizzard for this shows the industry that even their titans can and will be held accountable, even if it means going to court when it may not have been by the book to do so.

Maybe it’s not fair to Blizzard that they have been denied the opportunity to address these complaints in private with their own evidence and information. Maybe some of these complaints are indeed factually incorrect. Maybe some of these perpetrators faced serious consequences that the victims were not aware of. Maybe they did everything right to cut the problems in their internal culture out over the last few years, but the DFEH had already decided that Blizzard needed to be their scapegoat for the whole industry.

But Blizzard’s response being a tantrum cry of “nah-uh ur a bunch of fudging meaners” makes it look to me like they want to be that scapegoat. And if this is the only way the industry starts holding their supervisors and HR departments accountable for how they treat women and minorities in their employ, it would be a hard sell to convince me that the DFEH is making a bad call to take Blizzard to task for these offenses. Even if Blizzard puts to rest each and every claim with clear evidence of proper behavior on the part of the company in a court of law, I also find it hard to argue against having Blizzard submit to the public record a roadmap on how a large corporation in an especially abusive industry can eliminate a culture of harassment and sexism.

I, uh, don’t expect that to be the result. But boy, wouldn’t that be great? All the victims got their justice, Blizzard is exonerated, and every HR department in the nation is handed a toolkit to fix even the worst work environment? You want to talk about a fantasy setting, there you go.

[justfor2am]

life's a drag, so make it a show!

Trans Sides Week Tuesday Prompt: Discovery/Coming Out/Acceptance

Word Count: 2642

TWs: occasional swearing

@transsidesweek Read it on Ao3! Summary: Roman's life isn't exactly all glitz and glamor. It's terribly dull at times, to the point that he picks up a little hobby along the way. And it's fun, and it's wild, and he's never known to feel so at home in his skin with this much glitter, but he's not complaining. It's telling his friends that make the whole ordeal so much more... real. Or, Roman plays twister with his gender and Janus finds out in the most convoluted way possible.

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Life was a constant blur. Roman's day started at 5 a.m. and would end at ten if he was lucky. He usually wasn't lucky. It wasn't his fault that being a law intern was so hectic, he'd be lucky if he made partner of the firm in the next ten years.

And sure, maybe going to law school and taking five years to graduate instead of three didn't help his growth, and maybe this wasn't what he'd planned to do with his life at all, but rent wasn't cheap and Roman wanted out of this house ASAP and at least the salary was constant.

In the end, Roman could deal with the cramped apartment and the long hours and even the loneliness of coming home to a bed for one.

Because he had a secret that made it all worthwhile.

On Friday nights he was always the last to leave his work. He'd take the 11 p.m bus going south towards the heart of the city, far away from his dingy apartment and the dull life of office work to a sea of vibrant colors, of bars and strip clubs and gaiety lining the streets.

And he always found himself at 4140 Rosalie Way, the busiest bar on the block.

Its name was Dionysus Indulgence, and every Friday and Saturday night, posters filled the window with the same face.

They read: "Weekend Show Headliner! Vixen Venus for a 2 A.M Rendezvous!!"

Vixen wasn't actually part of the name, it was just Venus, but for some reason adding that to the front sold more tickets. At this point it might as well be his name.

Roman would scurry into the backrooms, already halfway undressed from the waist up and quick to pick his outfit for the night, organize his set list of songs, do his makeup (his eyebrows were always a bitch and a half to get flat) and find someone to make sure his wig was secure in the back.

Drag was an escape from the real world. Here he wasn't an overworked law intern in dull black or grey suits, he was Venus, Queen of the planet of love, an Empress who took no shit from no man (unless he had change to spare.)

Sometimes in the brief pauses between running, Roman wonders if it were possible to step away from manhood altogether. But there was never enough time to let the thought properly brew.

Besides, he had two hours to get his act together and god knows makeup alone would take up nearly two-thirds of it.

So he never indulged in the thought of transition long, or ever considered it really. He focused on taking in every moment on the stage, surviving on the thrill of cheers and applause from an adoring crowd. Life couldn't get much better than this.

It was yet another Friday night, and Roman tapped his foot impatiently staring at the clock. There was still a hour until he could escape, and time seemed to drag on forever.

His cell phone buzzed, and with a glance at the caller I.D. answered it. "Jay you know I'm at work, can it wait?" he cut in, turning his attention back to the spreadsheet on his desktop monitor.

"Well you've skipped out on my calls all week, I think I can bother you at work for five minutes," a cool voice crackled over the line.

Roman groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, sorry, this week's just been a lot. Work and all that," he said.

"Which is exactly why I'm calling. You need a break, have some fun," the voice purred. "Listen, I finally got tickets to that drag show downtown, Vixen Venus? You were a huge drama nerd in high school so I figured you'd like drag—"

"Lies and you know it—"

"Whatever. It was a pretty penny to get these tickets for tonight's show, and you're coming with me."

Roman sighed, it wasn't the first time that he'd been caught between reality and fantasy. "Sorry, to burst your bubble Lying McPhee, but I can't tonight. I've got to stay late and get a report turned in, it's going to be an all-nighter situation."

"Oh my god, you are married to that job and it's killing me. Ro I haven't seen you in almost a month, you've bail on brunch with me every Sunday so far, you don't come to game night with the rest of us anymore, you don't go out, you don't take breaks, it's like you're a completely different person after getting this stupid job." Roman pulled the phone away from his ear, letting Janus rant to the air instead of him.

"You need to slow down. You'll burn out at this rate." If it wasn't for how sharp his tone sounded, Roman would almost think Janus really cared.

"Listen," Roman started, but now it was his turn to be cut off.

"No, you listen to me. I am coming to pick you up from your stupid job and you and I are going to go have a good time at this club, you hear me? And I know you get off at midnight so don't even try to flake out on me."

Roman smiled to himself. It seems being a workaholic had its perks, that being no one knew his real hours. Putting on the mopiest tone he could muster, "God, fine, alright, can you at least let me finish what I'm working on then? Because if you're just going to yak at me until you get here then I really will have to stay late."

"Deal. Midnight, outside, and don't you dare try running away."

"Midnight. I promise."

When midnight rolled around, Janus was unsurprised to see Roman no where to be found, but was still a little annoyed. Knocking his head against the steering wheel in frustration, Janus made a beeline for Roman's apartment, banging on the door (and when that didn't work, picking the lock) only to find the place empty.

"Okay, totally not suspicious, he has literally no other hobbies so there's nowhere else he could be," Janus muttered aloud, checking his cell for messages.

Roman's phone buzzed half a city away, where he sat in front of a vanity baking his face. He glanced at it, cringing before sending a hasty text to avoid a phone call.

'sorry!!! forgot today was shopping day and i had some dry cleaning to pick up. another time i promise :('

Janus groaned, stomping out of the apartment and texted another contact saved as V.

'ro bailed on me you wanna go see venus @ the d.i? i got tickets'

'sure lol i'm already at the strip. meet u there in 30 tho i've gotta talk with my bassist'

He sighed, pocketing his phone and heading back to his car. If Roman wouldn't come have fun, that wasn't stopping Janus, he'd make his own goddamn fun.

He texted Vera the spare ticket details before entering the club himself a short drive later, quick to have a drink in hand and relax a bit before the show. It was only 1 a.m., so there was an entire hour to kill before the performance.

Janus was never the type to go clubbing, but he made exceptions for his friends.

Eventually though there came the search for the bathroom, something that generally never went well in a packed club full of drunken strangers. Throwing back the final sips of his drink, Janus made the push to weasel his was through the crowd, finding himself at some sort of stairwell leading to a lower level with more doors.

Not one for asking directions (he knew exactly where he was going, thank you very much,) Janus nosed around downstairs, entirely amused at the flurry of performs in various states of undress, from a younger looking queen yanking on stilettos teetering down the hall, to someone yanking on their wig cap in men's trousers and a glittery sequin top.

With all the confidence and grace of someone lightly tipsy with a resting bitch face, Janus sauntered around still in search of a bathroom, before his ears picked up an annoying familiar voice.

Creeping around a corner, he stood to the side of an unmarked dressing room, peering in through the gap of the unlocked door. It was hard to see, but by the looks of it there was only one person inside, hurriedly shuffling through what he assumed were eye shadow pallets from what Janus could tell. All the while the person muttered loudly to themself, an endless stream-of-conscious sort of ramble.

"….and I've got to get that dumb report turned in by Monday, but I'll be damned if I post-pone tomorrow night I need that show. I should've brought my laptop here, ugh, maybe I can get someone to go to my apartment for me…?"

"Is that so?" In one broad swing of the arm, Janus shoved the door open, blinking in visible surprise at the state Roman was in.

Dressed in a full body black mesh suit from his torso to his hips, red glitter decorated his tights to hide the hip inserts, coupled with thigh-high shiny leather boots with a terrifying heel. His biceps were doused in glitter too, truly there was no part of himself that wasn't glimmering in some sort of fashion. A pair of boob inserts lay innocent on the vanity table, the rest messily covered in well-used make up products with a wig rack propped up haphazardly to the left of it. In his right hand was indeed an eye shadow pallet like Janus had suspected, coupled with a brush in his left held in a white-knuckle grip.

The two stared at each other, Janus' jaw slack in surprise (sure, he'd heard Roman talking, but he didn't really think he'd be in here,) and Roman tight-lipped, a flushed, embarrassed heat rising up to his face.

"Of all the side jobs to have," Janus said, after a painfully long pause, "this is somehow the one that suits you the most that I'd never thought you'd have."

Roman, still pink in the cheeks, slowly lowered the pallet, now fiddling with the brush handle in his left hand. "I— I, you weren't supposed to know." His eyes dragged down to the other's feet, darting across the floorboards.

To Janus, this was alarming behavior. Roman? Embarrassed by something queer and fun? That did not track at all. "Huh? Why? Am I supposed to be bothered that you're living a full and exciting life, not just slaving away at a desk 24/7?"

Still the other did not look up at him, now rolling the brush between his hands. "I don't know, I didn't think you would've… believed me. Like, of all people, I'm the one who couldn't do this. Or, I guess, shouldn't."

Now it was Janus' turn to be embarrassed, taking a spot on the cluttered loveseat decorated with spare stockings. "Of course you could do something like this. You're Roman Astor, you once did pull-ups from the theater lighting rig for twenty dollars and only got suspended for a week. You dressed up in a tutu and plastic fairy wings to run around the school for every SGA donation drive. Hell, you passed the football team try outs and turned down your leading position because practice would cut into the fall theater production."

The stories coaxed a small smile from Roman, and he gradually stopped twirling the brush.

"You've done arguably crazier things for years, why would I think you couldn't be a star?"

Roman turned to look at the wig rack, his wide assortment from years of collecting. "Because even for me, this is out there. And don't even—" he cut Janus off before another monologue could start, "you said your piece so I'm saying mine."

With a nervous swallow, "you can't say that doing some silly stunts when I was sixteen compared to dressing up like a woman and doing aerial inverts on a stripper pole covered in body glitter at 25 are the same thing. I could barely take being gay when I was outed, now this? It's… I just wanted to avoid that conversation," he mumbled.

"Besides," he ranted on, "I have a real job now with serious people that I can't risk losing because of some weird fantasy I have of, I don't know, gender swapping or whatever. It's dumb, and it's not going to last, so I just wanted to make the most of the time I had left before I really am trapped at that nightmare of a worksite. Is that so much to ask?"

From where he sat, Janus felt like he was thirteen again, sitting across his once-enemy in the way only children could, learning for the first time that being queer was something they shared, and something they feared. Something to be ashamed of.

But they weren't thirteen anymore. Maybe the attacks didn't stop, or the self-loathing get much better, but they had survived. And from the few things he'd heard of Roman's performances, and the way he saw him now, Janus knew damn well that this was more than just a hobby. This was Roman's way of living past survival.

He wasn't about to let the other give up on that.

"Six weeks," Janus said.

Roman glanced up at him, confusion tugging him out of his mental spiral. "Huh?"

"It's taken me six weeks to get tickets to this show. That's a testament to how popular you are, and how damn badly I wanted to see you perform, without even knowing it was you. And in that time, I've come to see a couple other people perform, and it seems to me like this is their full-time job, it's what drives them the most at the end of the day."

Janus reached for Roman's hands, clasping them in his own. "You don't have to know who you are or what you want right now. You don't have to ever, really. But this makes you happy, so who cares if you're in a wig or not? You'd look damn good in one," he tacked on, and Roman stifled a small laugh.

"You can be Roman, or Venus, or someone new entirely if you want. So long as it brings you joy, the rest of the world can suck it."

"Then…" Roman bit at his lip, in serious mental discussion with himself. "I want to be Rosalie. Not all the time, just right now. But, in a neutral way? I don't know how any of this works—"

"Girl, neither do I," Janus laughed. "But it's a pleasure to meet you Rose."

Rosalie beamed, their sunny disposition peering through their formerly gloomy, panicked mood. "Jay, you're incredible. I need you to leave."

Janus balked. He was almost pissed. "I just hyped you up so fucking good, and you're booting me? You bitch."

Rosalie laughed, "Jay I have twenty minutes to finish getting dressed and the wig takes ten of those twenty. Yes, I am kicking you the hell out. How'd you even get downstairs anyways, patrons aren't supposed to be down here?"

"Anything's possible with a mean glare and a bitchin' strut," Janus sighed, letting go of Rosalie's hands, popping them on his hips. "You'd better get ready then, I didn't buy front row tickets for nothing."

Janus turned on his heel to leave, stopping at the doorway. "R? I did invite Vera since you bailed, do you want me to—?"

"Let her guess, if she figures it out then you two can come next week for free," they laughed, already back to fixing their make up.

"God, you're more of a money hound than I am," Janus muttered, a matching grin on his face.

Laughter was easiest when everyone was in on the joke.

[seijorhi]

Can I request for Corrupt CEO Oikawa and female assistant? She finds out he’s involved in shady underground business and tries to quit. Non-con smut, pretty please 🥺 I love your fics! I enjoy reading dark content. Your smut is amazing I’m addicted💖

Let me preface this by saying there will probably be a part 2 to this fic

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW implied non-con, blood, violence (nothing too graphic I don’t think?)

The Lion’s Den

The invitation to dinner should have been the first red flag.

You’d left the letter on his desk next to his morning coffee, stacked neatly on top of the reports and documents he’d asked you to prepare the night before. Impossible to miss.

You weren’t exactly sure what kind of a response you were expecting - a call into his office, cool indifference, security guards showing up at your desk to promptly escort you out - but the innocuous calendar invite that flashes across your screen twenty minutes after he arrived wasn’t it.

8:30pm, Da Graziella. Don’t be late x

The name was familiar - upscale, Italian and one of Oikawa’s favourites. He knew the owner, or so he’d told you, always got treated like royalty whenever he set foot inside. You used to wonder about that, why certain people seemed to bow and simper and scrape whenever he was around. Initially, you’d assumed it was because he had money and with money came perceptions of power. Of course, now you know better. It’s the reason why you wrote that letter - the reason why you should decline the invitation as politely as you can.

But you don’t.

Not because you’re scared of him - you’re terrified - but you want this to go as smoothly as possible, and there is absolutely no reason for you to be scared of Oikawa Tooru.

Not unless you knew the truth, and knowing the truth would put you in a very precarious position. 

The cursor hovers over the invite for a long moment when you feel a prickle at the back of your neck. Sure enough, when you glance up, there’s a pair of dark brown eyes staring at you from behind the glass wall that separates his office and yours.

Swallowing tightly, you click accept.

Oikawa smiles.

***

It’s a prestigious role, being the personal assistant for the CEO of Seijoh Industries, but it wasn’t the one you’d signed onto the company to do. You were an intern, fresh out of university, eager to put the last four years of your education to good use. 

They’d put you in the marketing department with six other grads and told you that at the end of the year there would be one permanent position on the team you’d all get to compete for. The first three months had consisted of coffee runs, minute taking at meetings (so many meetings), excel spreadsheets and grunt work the actual team couldn’t be bothered with, and you were almost positive that things were going to continue that way until your team was picked to lead the campaign for the new launch. For a while it did - meetings, minutes and coffee, rinse and repeat. Except now your meetings included the senior VP’s and him - the CEO. Oikawa Tooru. 

Of course nobody joined Seijoh without knowing about its charismatic founder. He was filthy rich, naturally, but he’d built this company from the ground up with his own two hands, made it into the powerhouse that it is. The media adored him, not just for his devastatingly handsome looks, but because he gave back to the community - a philanthropist at heart. He was the perfect poster boy for success in business.

(If only they knew how their poster boy really made his money.)

And he smiled so warmly and thanked you when you passed him his coffee. It wasn’t long until you felt those dark brown eyes seeking you out when the meetings dragged on, the playful glimmer and subtle twitching of his lips saying more than he could get away with - even as the CEO.

Still, you hadn’t expected it when he called you up to his office only a few weeks later to offer you the role of his personal assistant. You can’t quite remember the exact reasons he gave as to why; something about dedication and the diligence you’d shown. You’d caught his attention, and he needed somebody like you since he’d unfortunately had to let his last assistant go.

It was flattering, but being a PA wasn’t the career path you’d wanted at Seijoh. When you’d bashfully tried explaining as much, Oikawa had just waved away your concerns with a pretty smile and a laugh. In marketing, you were a glorified worker drone, one of six. Even if you did get the coveted promotion at the end of it all, you’d still be at the very bottom of the food chain, working yourself to the bone trying to make a mark on a company far bigger than yourself. With him, yes you would still be doing coffee runs and scheduling meetings and all of those mundane tasks, but you’d be working with one of the most powerful men in the country. Oikawa could open doors for you, and he could do it while making sure you received a generous salary for your efforts.

Your parents told you once never to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

How could you possibly say no?

***

After handing in your letter of resignation, the rest of your day goes reasonably smoothly. Oikawa’s gone for most of it. His calendar says he’s in back to back meetings all day, meetings which for once you were exempt from attending. It might have been a cause for concern if it hadn’t been on the agenda for days - some disgruntled shareholder that needed to be pacified, or so he’d told you.

You’re secretly glad for the reprieve; you have four weeks left at Seijoh and you’re still not entirely sure how you’re supposed to meet your boss’s eye without quaking - and the last thing you want is for him to become suspicious. But without him hovering, interrupting your work every five minutes as he usually does, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Why dinner? 

Why tonight?

You’re a good personal assistant, at least you think you are - Oikawa’s certainly never complained - but it’s not like you’re irreplaceable. You’ve heard of companies trying to negotiate with higher salaries and benefits to keep good employees, but even an excellent PA is just a PA, and the pay Oikawa has you on is more than generous. You’re good at handling his moods and eccentricities, you don’t mind that he gets irritable and petulant when he’s stressed and you know how his coffee order changes depending on what time of day it is, but that hardly makes you anything spectacular.

If it’s an impromptu thank you for the last year and a half or a farewell from your boss, why not wait until you’re actually finishing up? You’ve given him four weeks notice, even offered to train up your replacement if they manage to find somebody beforehand.

Which leaves you with the possibility that he knows the real reasons behind your sudden resignation - a thought that fills you with a biting unease.

But he has no reason to even suspect such a notion.

He couldn’t have known you’d come back to his house that night, or what you’d overheard - what you’d seen. One week later and you still can’t close your eyes without visions of blood and brain matter splattering across the walls, but-

It’s a popular restaurant. Respectable. You’re reading too much into it, Oikawa’s probably just curious about why you’re suddenly moving on from Seijoh. He’s always been a little blurry on the lines between personal and professional - at least where you’re concerned. And it’s not like the two of you haven’t gone out for meals together before, he’s often dragging out of the office for ‘work lunches’ or a celebratory dinner when a project goes well.

People quit their jobs every day. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.

Except when you arrive at Da Graziella and the maître d' takes your coat and leads you inside, you realise that the assumption you’d been clinging to was very, very wrong.

There’s not a soul inside of the restaurant save for Oikawa, watching you from the lone table set up in the centre of the room. Bathed in the warm, flickering light of the nearby candles, Oikawa smiles as you falter, your wide eyes darting around the empty restaurant before settling back on him.

There’s a pit in your stomach, an icy tendril of fear that creeps up your spine. It’s a familiar sensation - you’d felt it back at the mansion too, the moment you’d glanced through the crack in his office door and saw him eyeing the handguns in the open briefcase on his desk. You should have left then, before you’d seen anything incriminating, and you should definitely leave now - but it’s too late for that.

It was too late the moment you set foot inside. 

You’ve walked willingly into the lion’s den, all you can do now is smile and pray that it’s not in the mood to play with its food.

“Ah, wonderful, you’re early. Would you like some wine to start off with, darling?” Oikawa asks. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

The endearment is new, but you can’t seem to focus on that when your heart is hammering against your chest. Easing yourself into the seat pulled for you, you wet your lips, but even then you can’t quite seem to make the words come out. 

No matter, Oikawa chooses for you, murmuring the name of an italian vintage to the maître d' who nods approvingly and disappears, leaving the two of you alone.

“S-sir?” you finally manage to utter, though it comes out as more of a question than a greeting, “I- why is everyone…”

“Gone?” he supplies for you, taking a sip from his own glass. He shrugs leisurely, “I figured that it would be nicer if it were just us two, don’t you agree?”

No.

“Oh, um, yeah… I guess.”

He laughs, the sound like chiming bells and you know that he doesn’t believe you. It doesn’t matter, you’re here and alone and there is very little you can do to change either of those things. “So tense, Y/N. Really, you should relax. I would have thought after almost two years together, you’d know that I don’t bite.”

More images flash to the forefront of your mind; the sneer curling at his lips as he yanks out his pocket squares and uses it to wipe the splatter of blood from his face. One body on the floor, the other squirming away from his outstretched hand. The crunch of bones breaking, pleading whimpers and then-

No, Oikawa might not bite, but that doesn’t set you at ease.

But even now, doubt flickers. He can’t have known you were there, that you’d overheard the talk of shipments and bribes, a deal gone wrong. Nobody saw you come, you have your own set of keys. He can’t know.

He can’t know.

He can’t… 

Oikawa’s grin widens, twisting into a smirk. “Well, that, and I suppose that I don’t particularly think what’s about to be said makes for polite dinnertime conversation. At least not where most people are concerned.”

Fear strikes at your heart, constricting until it hurts to breathe, but you will your tense muscles to relax, force what you hope - pray - is a convincing expression of mild confusion and absolutely nothing else onto your face.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

It’s a wonder that he can’t hear the frantic pounding of your chest as he leans closer, dropping his chin onto a propped up arm, “Tell me something, darling. If I’d invited you back to my humble abode instead of this restaurant, would you have come?” 

You swallow tightly, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. There’s a look in those pretty brown eyes, a glint of something darker, something amused - it reminds you of a cat toying with a mouse and it sets you on edge. “You did leave so quickly the last time you dropped by. You didn’t even stop to say hello.”

Ice douses your system as sheer panic spikes. You’re out of your seat before your brain even registers you’ve moved, knocking it clear from the table in your stumbling haste - but Oikawa’s faster. Long, pale fingers seize your wrist, keeping you in place with a deceptively strong grip.

Those fingers, trailing softly along the barrel of the gun. It’s more than cursory, there’s something almost loving and tender in the way he traces the smooth ridges of the weapon before he picks it up, testing its weight in his hand. Oikawa hums thoughtfully, eyeing the crying man kneeling before him. “Beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Sit back down.” His voice is pleasant, but even as adrenaline pumps through your veins urging you to run, to fight - you know better than to believe it’s anything less than an order. “Good girl,” he purrs as you fumble for your chair.

Back at the mansion, you’d been scared. Horrified at the cold brutality of what you’d witnessed, your entire world seemingly falling out from beneath you. But even with your thoughts a hysterical tangle and nausea threatening to overtake you, your only focus had been on getting out unseen.

This, sitting face to face with a mobster - a man you thought you knew - with all the cards laid bare before you… it’s a whole new kind of terror. He could kill you, with his hands wrapped around your throat or the gun he’s undoubtedly carrying, it doesn’t make a difference. You’re not strong enough to fight him off and the only other person you’ve seen since arriving is the maître d' - you might have wilfully walked into this trap, but you’re not so naive as to believe Oikawa doesn’t have him and any other employees working tonight firmly in his pockets. They won’t come if you scream. 

Tears prick at your eyes. 

You are utterly alone and entirely at his mercy, and all that you can do is beg.

“Please, please, sir, I… I swear I-I didn’t see anyth-”

A single raised finger stops you. Oikawa tuts, shaking his head. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Y/N. I know exactly what you saw, and I can guess well enough what you overheard. Certainly enough for those irritating little cops to start sticking their noses where they don’t belong if you decided to talk. Do you really think I’d leave my home open for just anybody to waltz in without my knowledge? Please, darling. What kind of a man do you take me for?” he laughs, and you fight back a broken plea, desperately biting down on your lip in an effort to stop yourself from crying.

“But,” he continues, reaching across the table to take your hand once more, “I don’t want you to worry about that, sweetheart. It’s in the past - and not why I asked you here.”

His thumb strokes the back of your palm causing goosebumps to prickle along your arms. Your heart is sitting in your throat, your stomach twisting in knots at the casual, innocent touch. You’re trembling in your seat, on the verge of ears and it feels like he’s testing you, except you don’t have a clue what you’re supposed to say, and you’re terrified that if you get it wrong, he’ll hurt you. “… I-it isn’t?”

Oikawa smiles, “No. I suppose in a way, it’s a blessing in disguise that you saw me for all that I am. It’s forced me to do something I should have done a long time ago.”

After a beat of silence and a gentle squeeze of your cold, rigid hand, you realise that he’s waiting for you to play along. “O-oh, um. What’s that?” your voice shakes, betraying the rapidly rising fear and panic eating away at you, but Oikawa pays it no mind.

“I understand why you resigned after witnessing what you did… it scared you, didn’t it? I scare you.”

There’s no point in lying, not when the evidence is right in front of him, so you nod.

He sighs heavily, but the amused glint in his eyes doesn’t shift. Even now, he’s still toying with you. “You’re a terrible actress,” he declares absentmindedly before his gaze sharpens. “There was always going to be an expiration date on our little arrangement, as much as I might have wished it otherwise.” 

There’s something strangely wistful in his expression as he toys with your fingers, but the words, the gilded implications woven between them, fly right over your head. All you can focus on is the pounding of your heart and the sharp drag of every breath filling your lungs as you wait for the penny to drop. “We can’t go back to what we had before, but you understand, don’t you, darling, that I can’t just have you wandering around knowing what you do.”

Your stomach drops, eyes widening in abject horror, “Please - please, Oikawa sir-”

He continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “If I offered you a choice; come willingly with me back home without making a fuss or I blow your pretty brains across the restaurant here and now, which would you pick?” he muses.

Fear is a funny thing. It makes the logical illogical, turns rational thought to mush, pushes you into a state of instinct that overrides everything else. Common sense would tell you that the threat of torture and whatever other nastiness that might await you back at Oikawa’s mansion was still the preferable option to the certainty of death at his hands should you refuse, but common sense had long since abandoned you. 

As a fresh wave of adrenaline surges through your veins, you rip your hand from his and leap to your feet. This time you don’t give him a moment, kicking off your heels to sprint for the door. Distantly you register the hissed curse behind you. All you can think of is escape, running until Oikawa and the restaurant and everything you’d seen and learned was left in the dirt behind you. You don’t want to die, but you can’t bear the thought of what he’ll do to you if you submit. Will he drag it out, make your death slow and painful? Let you rot in the basement, forgotten by everyone? Will he make you beg and plead for mercy before he ends it?

Fear makes you clumsy - it slows you down. 

You make it five steps before a pair of arms constrict around you, one around your waist, hauling you up from the floor, the other around your mouth, muffling the hysterical scream that rips from your throat. Legs flailing, kicking uselessly at nothing, you’re wrestled back inside. Oikawa’s lips are at your ear, growling something but you can’t make sense of the words over your harsh, panicked sobs, the sound of your frenzied pulse pounding in your ears. 

It’s only when you’re tossed like a sack of potatoes back onto the table, knocking the air from your lungs that time seems to slow and clarity returns. Oikawa’s looming over you, panting, dark pupils swallowing the iris, yet instead of the fury you expect to see written across his face, Oikawa is grinning - wide and delighted. 

“Wrong choice, baby,” he sings, quickly shucking off his jacket before grabbing the top of your dress and ripping. 

Your eyes zero in on the handgun strapped to his chest, just within arms reach. 

“But it’s okay,” he kisses you, moaning as he forces your mouth open, nipping harshly at your lips when you try to squirm away. “I forgive you, always sweetheart, you just have to make it up to me.”

[sctropefest]

When there’s only one bed, sometimes the best option is to settle in to enjoy a throuple of works from day 9 of Tropefest! Tomorrow is the last day. And don’t forget to complete your Bingos and let us know (see details at the bottom of this post).

DAY 9 REVEALS

you should let me save the day

[Patrick/David - E - 17,154]

David and Patrick are college students, both coming to the end of a very challenging year. While heading home for the holidays, a chance encounter on a shuttle bus and a surprise snowstorm change not only the course of their evening, but also the rest of their lives.

*

why don't we full on pretend

[Patrick/David - T - 12,587]

“Okay, if we’re going to do this, we need to set up some ground rules.” David had just turned the store’s sign to closed as Patrick began to deal with the cash register. At David’s declaration, he looked up, confused.

“Hate to break it to you David, but we’ve been running this store together for a while now. It may be a bit late to retroactively lay out a bunch of rules.”

David rolled his eyes and made his way to stand opposite Patrick, the counter between them. “I meant our whole fake dating thing. For the apartment discount.”

Or the fake dating/roommates/mutual pining fic no one asked for, but I wrote anyway.

*

four four four two

[Patrick/David, Stevie & David, Patrick & Stevie, Patrick & Stevie & David - M - 12,083]

Business manager required to help set up small bakery/deli in central Elm Falls Experience in food service would be beneficial but not necessary 40 hours p/w Salary negotiable      

The advert had been small, tucked into the corner of the classifieds page of a local newspaper. A small business getting off the ground. It was a jigsaw piece Patrick knew he could be, something that could fit here, in his new life. ----- Or: David and Stevie are starting over. Patrick knows something about that.

*

Captive on the carousel of time

[Stevie/Twyla, Patrick/David, Gwen & Twyla - T - 11,157]

The predictability of Schitt’s Creek and the routines of the people who live here have always been a comfort to Twyla. In a life that has been full of uncertainty, she appreciates that there are things she can always count on. So when Jocelyn walks in at 3:07, it isn’t a surprise. At least, not at first.

“What can I get for you, Jocelyn?”

“Oh, I think I’m going to need an extra-large coffee to get through the rest of the day, Twyla. I’m headed right back over to the school to set up for tonight.”

Twyla nods and turns to start making Jocelyn’s coffee. “What’s tonight?”

“Graduation.”

Twyla pauses and looks back at Jocelyn. “Um, I think you might be a little confused. Graduation was last night.”

*

If Hell Had a Creek 

[T - 9,139]

After losing everything, the Roses are forced to move to their only remaining asset, the town of Schitt's Creek. Also, the town is on the Hellmouth, and Alexis is the Slayer.

*

didn’t ask for this--you freely gave it (so now i watch your mouth for both of us)

[Alexis/Twyla - T - 6,370]

Alexis chops her name down to three letters like it's nothing.

Twyla thinks about it a lot.

*

When they sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns

[Patrick/David, Patrick & Stevie & David - M - 3,376]

David whirls to face Stevie, phone still in hand. “A couple who got divorced? Stevie, what the fuck did you say to them?” “I didn’t say that!” She raises her hands, backing away from David’s murderous glare. “I specifically said that you’d opened the store with your husband! And then I said something about how even as your relationship status changed the business had stayed strong, and—” She cuts herself off, clapping her hand over her mouth as both David and Patrick stare at her, incredulous. “Oh, fuck.”

*

Close Encounters of the Alces Kind

[Patrick/David - T - 1,174]

why are you trying to get me to stay at work longer than i need to what did you do

Nothing

i can hear you lying

__________________________________________________

*Don’t forget to track your Tropefest progress with our bingo card! At the end of the fest, we will randomly select two people who complete the card and donate to the charity of their choice.

*Link to the tracking spreadsheet, here.

*NOTE: Creators, if your works were revealed today, please remember to update your date of posting on AO3!

[dothwrites]

#76 Awkward IT!Cas and CEO!Dean

---

#76--Nobody thinks what I think (Dean Smith/Castiel)

---

“IT help, this is Novak.” 

“Hi, this is Becky Rosen from Smith’s office.” 

Castiel freezes at the perky voice. Even though he’s just a lowly IT grunt, he does keep up with the news of Sandover Bridge and Iron. He knows all about the unlikely promotion of Dean Smith to CEO, over the heads of several, possibly more well-qualified, candidates. He hasn’t caught a picture of him, but the rumors are that he was too young for the position, that he’d gotten it through networking and not through his merits. 

Meanwhile, Becky’s been talking and Castiel has to struggle to catch up. 

“--so if you can send someone up to take a look, that would be wonderful.”

She hangs up before Castiel can ask her to repeat herself, which might be for the best. Then at least he can get away with the facade that he’s not a complete idiot. Her last words hang in his head--send someone up. Rosen wants someone from IT to take a look at their new CEO’s computer. Castiel wants it to be anyone else but him. 

He looks at his best friend, willing him to be free. “Sam,” he hisses, twisting in his chair. Sam Wesson ignores him, which might mean that he’s on a call, or it might mean that he’s just being an ass. “Sam,” Castiel hisses, more urgently, punctuating the name with a pencil tossed towards the larger man’s back. 

Sam turns around, his mouth twisted in playfully amused irritation. “Problem?” 

“Smith’s office just called. They want someone from IT to go upstairs.” 

Sam’s eyes flick up and down. “Well, it looks like you fit that bill.” 

Color floods Castiel’s cheeks. “I can’t go up there!” He’s fine over the phone, when the meat of most of his conversations consists of Have you tried turning it off and then back on again? Having an actual conversation? In person? Not so much. Sam is infinitely more suave than him, capable of holding a normal conversation with a normal person for at least three minutes at a time. He would be perfectly fine to go to the CEO’s office and not get fired. 

“Look, Cas, normally I’d be there for you, but I’m working on this.” Sam twists to show Cas a tangle of spreadsheets, all of them with complex coding. “They’re trying out a new program in accounting and asking us to work through the kinks. You go. It’s probably something you could do over the phone, but new CEO wants to throw his weight around. Ten bucks says he won’t even be in the office.” 

With that, Castiel is sent upstairs. He brings a small briefcase along with him, unsure of what he’ll actually need. If he’d been paying attention to Becky, then he might know, but that would mean that he was an actual person with actual social skills, so that was always a long shot. 

He presses the button for Floor 20, the top floor of the building. This is the floor reserved for the CEO, complete with his office, conference room, and personal bathroom suite. For all Castiel knows there might be a gym up there too; rumor has it that their new CEO is a stickler for a morning workout. 

The elevator opens, revealing a sumptuous waiting room. Behind a desk which dwarfs his, sits perky blonde woman. No one should be able to smile that widely at work. 

“Hi,” Castiel says, his hand raised in an abortive wave. “I’m Cas Novak, I’m here from IT.” His pale yellow polo screams his department, and his hand hangs awkwardly in the air. 

Becky grins at him, one perfectly manicured nail pressing down on the intercom. “Mr. Smith? IT is here.” A garbled reply comes through the intercom and Becky smiles at him. “You can go on in,” she tells him, gesturing at a door which probably cost more than his monthly salary. There’s something encouraging in her smile, like going into the CEO’s office is something that Castiel can do. 

Castiel takes tiny little steps towards the door, waiting for a hurricane to possibly hit the building, making computer troubles the least of anyone’s worries. He’s not lucky enough for that to happen, so he knocks on the door, wincing at the noise his knuckles make. Too loud? Does it sound like he’s trying to beat his way in? A gruff voice bids him to come in, and Castiel obeys. 

He walks into a room which has more square feet in it than his office. There’s a bar in the office, with a mini-fridge, stocked with waters and energy drinks, a small table for private meetings, a seating area with a loveseat and chairs, and a desk which looks as though it function as a raft, in the event of the office flooding. And behind the desk...

Castiel usually doesn’t call other men beautiful, but it’s the only word which describes the man behind the desk. 

Despite his unfortunate fashion choices (blue and white pinstripes do not go well with red suspenders, not that Castiel can make any judgments; he himself is dressed in a pastel usually reserved for Easter parties and nurseries), Castiel can already tell that his boss is indeed a stickler for the morning (and maybe afternoon and evening) workouts. He has broad shoulders and the fabric of his suit doesn’t hide the muscle underneath. Castiel spends a long moment lingering over his hands, with their clean, neat nails and thick fingers (there are quite a few uses he could of for those fingers). To top off the whole package is a face with a jawline strong enough to crush titanium, full pink lips, and large eyes with full lashes. He can’t be but a few years older than Castiel, if that, which makes him astonishingly young for his position. 

The man (Mr. Smith, his boss) finally offers a cautious, “Hi?” 

Castiel licks his suddenly dry lips. “Hi,” he says, then remembers that this is the man who is worth billions and who has power over his literal job (and therefore his living situation and eating situation). “I’m, uh, from IT? There was a problem?” 

Mr. Smith blinks at him for a long moment, and Castiel wonders how he could have possibly screwed up so soon. Then he gathers himself and gestures towards his computer. “Yeah. I got here first thing, and it won’t turn on.” Castiel chances a surreptitious look to make sure it’s plugged in and comes back with inconclusive results. “Think you can do something about that, Steve?” 

Heat floods Castiel’s cheeks. He hadn’t really looked this morning when he grabbed at his nametag (he hadn’t really looked when he grabbed for a shirt, a fact of which he is almost painfully aware of now that he’s standing in front of Mr. Smith), and of course he’d grabbed the joke. 

“Castiel,” he mumbles, and immediately regrets it. What does it matter that Mr. Smith knows his name? He’s never going to see the man again, so really why does it matter? (He wants to hear that lovely, deep, gruff voice say his name, his full name. Just once.)

“Your nametag says Steve.” Castiel knows the look that’s starting to spread over Mr. Smith’s face. It’s the one that he’s seen all of his life, the one that says Uh-oh, now I’ve gotten myself into a conversation with this freak, how can I best extract myself from this situation. It hurts, much more than it should, to see Mr. Smith start to look that way. 

“It was a joke,” Castiel mumbles. Warmth spreads down his neck, sparking a nervous little sweat. “My name is apparently difficult for people, so they gave me this tag to make things easier.” 

Mr. Smith’s mouth purses. “Well, that’s a douchey thing for whoever to do. Cas-tee-ell.” He lingers over the tee, rolling it on the tip of his tongue, and goosebumps prickle on Castiel’s arms. “It’s a mouthful, but it’s not hard.” 

A different kind of warmth suffuses through Castiel. It starts at the center of his chest and slowly spreads outward, like the eggnog that he had last Christmas at the company party. It’s tingly at the edges. 

“Well, that’s not what everyone else thinks,” Castiel says, to try and diffuse the heat flooding through his body. 

“Yeah, well, nobody thinks how I think.” Mr. Smith keeps his eyes focused on Castiel’s face. There’s something intense in his eyes, and for once, Castiel finds himself on the uncomfortable end of a staring contest. “‘S why they gave me the gig in the first place. ‘Innovative ideas’ or something like that.” He chuckles, and there’s something bitter in the sound. “I don’t think they realized that I have maybe one good idea every couple of years.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Castiel blurts, before he can stop himself. He has no real basis of comparison for his statement; he knows next to nothing about Mr. Smith. “I just mean,” he stammers, “that if you start doubting yourself, then you’ll never know what you can do.” 

The advice rings as hollow coming from his mouth as it did coming from the mouths of every advisor and guidance counselor he ever had. Mr. Smith’s mouth twists in a sardonic little smile. “Supposed to breathe new life into this company, and I can’t even get the damn computer going.” 

“Oh!” Suddenly remembering the reason he’s in this dream of an office, Castiel moves forward. “I can probably help with that.” 

He steps in close to Mr. Smith (too close if his sudden blush and recoil are any indication) and fiddles with the mouse and monitor. The screen remains dark, which Castiel is almost glad to see. At the very least, it tells him that Mr. Smith isn’t an idiot. He follows the cords and finds that at the very least, the computer is plugged in. He kneels under the desk, sorting through the various tangle. 

“Ok, the person who put this together is an idiot,” he murmurs, tugging at a cord. 

“I put it together.” 

A cold spike of fear jolts through Castiel. Why, why, why does he always speak without thinking? Why can’t he be like a normal person, who had a modicum of tact, why can’t he manage to hold it together in a conversation long enough to interact like a regular person? Why is he such a disaster of a person? 

He bashes his head on the top of the desk as he scrambles out from underneath it. He glances up at Mr. Smith (tries not to concentrate on the visual aspects of this particular scene: him, on his knees underneath the desk, Mr. Smith, on his chair, looking down at him with a smoothly amused expression). “I’m sorry,” he says, hopefully in a garbled amalgamation of the English language. “I didn’t mean to...”

“Calm down, Cas, it was just a joke.” Mr. Smith’s face turns apologetic. “Apparently not a funny one.” 

Relief floods through Castiel, at odds with the throbbing pain in his head. “I just meant...the person who set up the computer did it wrong. The wires are shorted out.” He rubs at the back of his head as he glances back down. “It’s a simple fix, shouldn’t take me more than five minutes.”

“Oh.” Mr. Smith’s mouth (Castiel really shouldn’t be staring at Mr. Smith’s mouth so much, has Mr. Smith noticed how much Castiel has been staring at his mouth? Is Mr. Smith aware that he has a mouth which is very stare-worthy?) drops in a frown. “So quick?” 

“Well like I said,” Castiel grunts as he shimmies back under the desk, “it’s a quick fix once you realize what you’re doing. The person who set this up was probably just trying to go too fast and made a mistake. Or something. Who knows.” He doesn’t want to throw a member of his department under the bus, but he doesn’t want to lie to Mr. Smith either. 

“No, I just mean...” Mr. Smith taps his fingers against the desk. “Listen, do you want a cup of coffee or something?” He gestures towards the gleaming coffee machine on the counter. 

“I don’t know.” Castiel stops working and pokes his head out from under the desk. “I don’t want to be late.” 

Mr. Smith laughs. The sound is round and rich. It fills the room and sends little sparks of delight dancing down to his fingertips. “Who’s going to narc on you? You think you’re going to get in trouble with the boss?” 

“I mean...I guess...” Castiel can’t help but smile at Mr. Smith. 

“Come on, Cas. Give me a break here. Have a cup of coffee.” 

“I’m really glad you got the job,” comes tumbling out of Castiel’s mouth. Which is bad enough, but then comes, “You’re much better looking than Mr. Adler.” 

A dreadful silence hangs over the room. Castiel hopes his words will fade, but they linger between them like skywriting, scrawled in neon. His brain decides to come back online now, with thousands of worst-case scenarios. 

Mr. Smith fires him for sexual harassment. 

Mr. Smith presses charges against him. 

Mr. Smith ensures that Castiel Novak never gets a job anywhere in the industry ever again. 

Castiel ends up homeless and alone, ridiculed by everyone, and has to move in with Gabriel, possibly ending up working as a production assistant in Gabriel’s porn company. 

Then Mr. Smith laughs. It’s not a mean sound; it’s delighted. He pinches at the bridge of his nose, still laughing. Even after the sound fades, his shoulders still shake with mirth. When he opens his eyes, Castiel thinks there are actual tears in them. 

“I mean, that’s a pretty low bar to set, but I’m glad that I made it over.” Mr. Smith chuckles. He’s still laughing as he makes his way to the coffeemaker. He pushes a few buttons, then leans against the counter. “Stay for coffee, Cas. Please,” he adds as an afterthought. 

Castiel thinks of his tiny cubicle, crowded together with dozens of other small boxes, in a stifling environment screaming with the sounds of computers and copiers. He thinks of Mr. Smith’s smile, the strange kindness in him, the thoughtfulness with which he said his name. 

“I can stay for coffee, Mr. Smith.”

Mr. Smith turns around, one eyebrow raising at the formality. “Call me Dean,” he says. 

Castiel turns the name over in his head several times. It’s simple, direct, yet oddly complicated. It suits the man in front of him. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

---

[copperbadge]

I work for a small, niche nonprofit. We don’t have a lot of budget for stuff like wealth screenings, which is where you send a whackload of names and addresses off to a database and for a fee the database tells you how much money each person is capable of giving you. Fortunately, some experience from my last job means I’m capable of building my own wealth screener tool, and I did, in Excel. It’s not super advanced, it basically just depends on real estate, but nine times in ten you’re basing wealth on real estate anyway because often salary information is difficult to come by. 

The upshot of all of this is that I feed a home value into cell A and a series of calculations spits out their five-year gift capacity into cell B and their single gift capacity into cell C. Then, because these eventually have to be entered into a text heavy area of the database (I know, I know, but I work with what I have) cell D includes the value from C automatically in standardized verbage: “Gift capacity rating of [C] based on wealth screening on [current date].” 

Now, this means that on Fridays I do a lot of dumping home values into the spreadsheet, one after another, and any home I can’t find or that is obviously incorrect/incomplete I mark and come back to. When that happens, in the home value cell I just type “apartment” or “recheck” or some similar note to remind me to look at it later, and cells B-D all start screaming #VALUE! like they do when you put text in a number box they’re dependent on. 

I kind of love when the whole row lights up #VALUE!. Thank you, Excel. I do feel valued.  Hashtag value!

[editorialsonlife]

Well

Welp, feeling like doing an update because there's been a lot going on to be honest. its one of those weird dichotomies where every day feels like an eternity and there's so much going on and then you look back and you're like oh, ok its just my brain making it difficult and making things take forever but anyway.

LOCKDOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN

Lockdown life was good, apart from being thrust into it so suddenly dave left a banana on his desk. Wasn't great to come back to after 5 weeks out of the office - mummified mouldy banana!! Classic. We luckily got our first jab before lockdown started so that was good, and we were reasonably well stocked up on food and were generally a lot healthier this lockdown that last. honestly, there's a level of chill and serenity in lockdown that i just love. the ability to set my own schedule and only work the hours I actually work to get the job done? Amazing. getting 8.5 hours of sleep each night without having to wake to an alarm blaring? AMAZING. getting to go for walks every afternoon? SO FLIPPING GOOD. I love it so much, I really really do. I need this to be my life permanently.

WORK

Work is just ongoing and draining and honestly, coming back to the office was so fucking stressful and it was only one day. Being at home is just the fucking bomb. Pending home decisions, I wanna go contracting I think, but also ideally two part time contracts to have more flexibility? I dunno. You'd think a big 4 would provide variety but it really doesn't and honestly, with Richie leaving, wellington is just a sinking ship. Sean's off on parental leave, Kirstyn is down to four days a week, ben will be gone if he doesn't get promoted (and I don't think he will be tbh). Jack is just muddling along, Nigel wants to swap to consulting as well, Matt's going to be a shit leader in terms of bringing in work so it's just not going to work. and in our wider group it's going to get even more messy with heaps of the analysts leaving and a couple of senior hires too. so I think it's probably time to jump ship in general, pending the home stuff below. Also, coming back after a break again, I'm like, I don't actually like a lot of you? All the people I enjoy here are in other teams and groups, and I'll be sad to leave you all, but like, not enough to stay anyway lol.

Pending the home below, two options are to just going and get a job with a $30k payrise to make up for the maternity leave benefits I'm gunna leave behind when I leave this role - 18 weeks full pay, $100 a week for the first year back and a full year of maternity leave. It's basically 30k post tax which is a bit nuts to walk away from to be honest.

Otherwise the other option is to go contracting. Less security overall but holy shit so much money. If I went in as a project coordinator at the lowest rate to build up a bit of a portfolio I'd need to work 40 weeks of 40 hr weeks and Id basically match my current salary plus the lost family leave benefits and still qualify for govt maternity leave payments. Realistically I could go in as a project manager for $140 an hour ($60 more an hour than the above math) and absolutely smash it at that level as well so ya know, there's a bunch of other info. I like the idea of the flexibility of it and only having 6 months even if its a shitshow and beign able to walk away at the end of it. I really don't want to get a govt job and this is a v govt town which is fine but also, if I can avoid it that would be great. I just know I'm not gunna thrive in that environment.

Need to talk to Dave to get him across the line on the security issue part of that though. I've mostly come a long way in terms of my financial management (thanks YNAB) so I think he'd be ok with it mostly.

So there's a lot to toss up there because......

HOME

We got the reno plans done during lockdown, finally. which was super good. but holy fkn jesus $$$$$$ ++++++++++. The guy is coming around for the final quote on Thursday. We indicatively said $100k total because we're doing kitchen laundry bathroom and toilet. so only the most expensive rooms and when I was talking to him last week he said 'that might cover it' and they're seeing cost escalations of 7-10% a week which is just insane. we're not doing anything structural apart from putting in a cavity slider in the bathroom, and the quote they'll give us won't include flooring since they won't do it.

Meanwhile, the prefab homes I were looking at for our site were $425k fully done. Like, I'm not going to spend $130K on doing up my 1940s ex state house ya know? That's not good cost benefit ratio.

So depending on what that comes out at on thursday we'll be able to make some plans.

We also want to start trying for kids next year and need these renos done first - I am not having kids and no dishwasher lol.

Also we need bank financing so good to be in a permanent stable job for that application. the good thing is we have so much equity we know we can borrow whatever we need, I just don't want to spend that much money on it because it's fkn ridiculous. and if I'm going on maternity leave we need to be able to cover it all on dave's salary and whatever benefits I have as well so there;s a lot of financial planning and spreadsheeting going on at the moment lol. it's fab.

either way. we've got plenty of options up our sleeve. we've got friends who's brother owns a building company so we can talk to them, we've got the garage so we can get things prefabricated even if they're not installed til next year, Dave can get shit at cost through his work for whiteware, there;s plenty of things to like cost control we can do, we just need to know where we're starting from basically. thats the challenging part. but we'll figure it out, its just taking longer than I want it to basically.

We also planted up the vege garden for the spring/summer which was lovely, super jazzed about that. we've finally got the garden to a reasonably low maintenance level where everything is mostly under control and it's such a relief, honestly.

PERSONAL

Man what a shift to lockdown last year honestly. I think the last 8 weeks in particular has just been like, a massive reality check of how absolutely shit the last year was and how fucking glad I am to be rid of it. I spent a week absolutely spiralling 2 weeks ago now and honestly, I don't know how I lived in the state for more than a year. I actually don't know how I did it. and I could not be more glad that I'm finally on the other side of it, for the most part. There's still a bunch of other stuff to work through (hahahahahaha when is there not like damn) but fucking hell its nice to just not be anxious and nauseous and wound up constantly. life is actually accessible. miracle.

My workmate had his bebe - I went round and got newborn cuddles and was like, oh, is this what it is to be clucky? this is odd. so there's that as well. I think we'll probably start trying next year pending renos and jobs etc. If the renos can be done in jan I'll prob just stick it at the job to get the benefits but I dunno. it's a tough call to make really. we shall see. This all assumes we get knocked up without any issues which is questionable these days. I really want to feel healthier before getting pregnant as well, and part of that is losing weight. however, given discussing that is what triggered the spiral we're working on that one slowly.

Also, lets have a moment for counselling, because fkn bless anne and all her hard work honestly. I actually ended up emailing her being like, I;m losing my shit on the monday and then talked to her on thursday. And its so funny because it's such a counselling thing but I didn't realise until afterwards what she'd done but she was like you're clearly not doing well and then the night before dave got a fkn miserable migraine and he was up for like, 2 hrs powerchucking except he didn't make it to the bathroom in time so guess who was cleaning up vomit at 130am trying not to chuck herself but I digress. anyway, not doing well, couldn't even explain why, didn't even have words and super tired and she's like, what lynaire up to this week how's she going with izzy and chat about that and then be like how are you feeling about your body and then 5 more mins of chat about the cat and the chickens and then like bam hard question and then hows it going with x and y and z and its like, it wasn't til I was on my walk afterwards when I FINALLY started feeling marginally better I was like damn woman work your magic for figuring it out for me and helping me reregulate. all over the phone as well since we were still in lockdown. GREAT WORK FRIEND.

and then last week was like totally fucked theoretical discussion about religion and the role it's played in my life and fate vs free will and all this nutty shit but genuinely just a great discussion. She's the best and I love her. thank good for good counsellors. thank god I can afford to pay for it honestly.

Dave and I are just chugging along, god bless that man. I love him. its amazing. I miss having friends close by but understand why they had to move (boooooo f u house prices). Family is pretty chill, still not really talking to dave's parents which is nightmarish but we'll deal with that when we need to. gunna have to go and visit them at some point coz dave misses them and I feel for him, I really do. It's the whole boundaries renegotiation I went through with my family last year post wedding blow up and its just not a fun place to be. oh well. can't fix it for him but also I'm not putting up with that level of BS from either of our families once we have children. not gunna happen.

Either way, life is busy and full and fun and I'm enjoying it. Daylight savings starts this weekend too, its october next week WTF and I'm just waiting for 4pm to find out what's gunna happen to our girls trip. Clearly we cancelled our sept trip to christchurch and akaroa and hanmer springs so my covid travel curse continues. fkn ridic. Still dunno what we're gunna do with $2500 of flight credits coz if we get knocked up theres def no international trips happening any time soon.

thus concludes the almost 2000 word write up of life. hope you've enjoyed it. I'll throw up some pics in a separate post if people care about reno plans. such a good time!

[guide101ph]

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You can open up a Pag-IBIG MP2 account if you come from any of the following groups:

All active Pag-IBIG members, regardless of how much your month-to-month revenue is.

Former pensioners, despite age, that have at the very least pay 24 month-to-month contributions prior to retired life.

If you're not a Pag-IBIG member yet, you have to sign up initial and pay your month-to-month payments to be considered a main member.

REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD  OPEN A PAG-IBIG MP2

Pag-IBIG MP2 enrollment is not required for Pag-IBIG participants, yet doing so will certainly be useful for you over time.

Here are 5 good reason to start saving under the Pag-IBIG MP2:

1. Above-market dividend rates.

One of the most fascinating factor to save under MP2 is its above-market yearly dividend prices.

In the past few years, MP2 reward rates have expanded securely, averaging at 6.96% from 2015 to 2017.

In 2018, the Pag-IBIG Fund declared the MP2 returns rate at 7.41%. While the declared MP2 returns rate in 2019 is 7.23%.

In other words, the MP2 is much more cost-effective compare to the regular Pag-IBIG cost savings program. MP2 dividend rates also exceed the average rates of interest of investment products from business financial institutions in the Philippines.

With the HDMF's unparalleled monetary efficiency year after year, it's anticipated to proceed the MP2 program's amazing reward rates.

HOW PAG-IBIG MP2 IS COMPUTED?

Returns earnings are tax-free, which suggests you'll get the sum total without having to pay the 20% last holding back tax obligation.

To calculate your MP2 dividend, multiply the reward price for the appropriate year by your ordinary month-to-month equilibrium.

Right here's the formula for MP2 returns calculation:

Dividend = Dividend rate x Average monthly balance

Calculating the MP2 dividend is not as simple as it looks, though.

Prior to proceeding with the computation, it is very important to comprehend initially what the returns rate and the average monthly balance mean.

The dividend rate is the interest rate based upon the Pag-IBIG Fund's yearly earnings. The Fund usually introduces the dividend rate for a particular year in the first or second quarter of the following year via a press release on the Pag-IBIG site.

For example, the dividend rate for 2018 is 7.41%, which the Pag-IBIG Fund mentioned in April 2019.

Meanwhile, the ordinary regular monthly equilibrium describes the average of the MP2 financial savings you've gained by the year-end. To find out your average regular monthly equilibrium, you need to recognize your total collective savings for the year first and afterwards split it by 12 (months).

For less complicated computation, paper your month-to-month MP2 savings through Excel file or Google Spread sheet and afterwards compute the average.

For instance, you're conserving Php 500 per month from January to December 2020. Outlined on a spread sheet, your collective cost savings look like this:

PERIOD                                           CUMULATIVE FINANCIAL SAVINGS (PHP). January 2020                                      500 February 2020                                  1,000 March 2020                                      1,500 April 2020                                         2,000 May 2020                                         2,500 June 2020                                        3,000 July 2020                                         3,500 August 2020                                    4,000 September 2020                              4,500 October 2020                                   5,000 November 2020                               5,500 December 2020                               6,000 Typical Monthly Balance                  3,250

The amount of the cumulative financial savings for 2020 is Php 39,000. Separate that by 12, and you'll obtain a quotient of Php 3,250. That's your average monthly equilibrium.

An easier way to calculate the typical month-to-month balance is to use the AVERAGE feature in Excel or Google Spreadsheet, which generates the exact same quantity: Php 3,250.

Now, you can already determine the dividend for the year 2020 based upon a dividend rate of 7.5% (the price the Pag-IBIG Fund always utilizes in its sample reward calculations).

0.075 (dividend rate) x Php 3,250 (your average monthly rate) = Php 243.75 (total dividend for 2020).

To compute your returns for the next four years, just duplicate all the steps above.

If you use the intensified cost savings option, do not neglect to include the returns quantity from the previous year to the advancing cost savings in January of the list below year.

But if you avail of the yearly returns payment choice, do not include the dividend quantity from the previous year to the present year since it's paid out to you annually.

For your quick recommendation, the table listed below from the Pag-IBIG Fund shows the annual reward payout over a five-year duration if you pay Php 500 month-to-month to your MP2 account (based upon a 7.5% reward price).

WHY IS THAT THE DIVIDEND RATE OF PAG-IBIG MP2 HUGE?

MP2 returns prices have actually gotten on an ascending fad. The rates have never ever gone down listed below 7% considering that 2016 approximately today.

While these figures appear as well excellent to be real, there's no factor to worry or doubt as to why the Pag-IBIG MP2 reward rates are "too expensive.".

The Pag-IBIG Fund's active economic efficiency for many years has actually accelerated the MP2 prices. The federal government agency associates its solid monetary standing to its functional performances as well as solid real estate finance payment collections.

Because the Pag-IBIG Fund invests 70% of its funds in its housing financing program, people buying MP2 make from the interest payments of real estate car loan consumers.

Likewise, MP2 dividends originate from at least 70% of the Pag-IBIG Fund's annual take-home pay, which has seen stable development for the past 6 years. In 2019, the Fund recorded a take-home pay of Php 34.37 billion-- it is the highest ever before.

An amazing yearly monetary performance transforms to greater returns profits for MP2 account owners.

HOW TO ENROLL IN THE PAG-IBIG MP2 PROGRAM?

There are 2 methods on just how to open an MP2 savings account, its either using directly at any Pag-IBIG office or utilizing the on-line MP2 Enrollment System.

PAG-IBIG MP2 WALK-IN ENROLLMENT.

STEP 1: Submit a fully-accomplished Changed Pag-IBIG II Enrollment Kind at the nearby Pag-IBIG branch.

STEP 2: After encoding your information, the officer will release an account number for every of your MP2 accounts. You'll use this account number to pay your savings.

STEP 3: If you intend to pay your very first month-to-month MP2 cost savings right away, educate the Pag-IBIG police officer. You'll be offered a stub for your line up number for the repayment.

STEP 4: When your number is called, proceed to the cashier as well as pay the amount you showed on your MP2 registration type. Get your official invoice.

PAG-IBIG MP2 ONLINE REGISTRATION.

Online registration for MP2 is quicker than enrolling by hand, as you won't have to fill in the kind at the Pag-IBIG office. Nevertheless, you still require to head to the local branch literally to finish your MP2 registration.

 Here's how to register in the Pag-IBIG MP2 program online:

STEP 1: Go to the Modified Pag-IBIG 2 Enrollment System.

STEP 2: Type your Pag-IBIG MID number, surname, first name, as well as birthdate in MM/DD/YYYY style. Then enter the code as it shows up on your display. Click the Submit switch.

STEP 3: Fill in the on-line form. The fields for Pag-IBIG MID no., Call, Date of Birth, Existing Residence Address, as well as Email Address are already pre-filled, so no demand to load them out (On the screenshot below, the individual information are concealed for privacy objectives). Don't fail to remember to enter your Monthly Earnings and also Preferred Monthly Payment-- these are needed areas.

STEP 4: Review the terms and conditions listed below the on-line registration type. After that get in the code you see. Ultimately, click the Submit My Application switch.

STEP 5: A web page confirming your effective Pag-IBIG MP2 enrollment will appear. Keep in mind and also do not neglect your MP2 account number found on the upper right edge. The page additionally contains your achieved registration form (Once more, individual details are concealed on the screenshot below).

STEP 6: Review the terms and conditions. Write your name and sign at the end of the page. Make a note of the day too. Click the link at the bottom part of the page to publish your MP2 registration type. You may save it initially as a PDF apply for printing later. If you're an employee, publish an extra copy as well as submit it to your HR personnel or employer, so you can remit your MP2 cost savings through salary reduction.

STEP 7: Optional: If you intend to open up an additional MP2 account, repeat actions 1 to 6.

STEP 8: See the local Pag-IBIG office as well as send the printed copy of your MP2 registration form/s.

STEP 9: If you want to pay your very first monthly MP2 savings today, notify the Pag-IBIG police officer. You'll be offered a line number for the repayment of your application.

STEP 10: When your number is called, continue to the cashier and also pay the amount you showed on your MP2 enrollment kind. Get your official receipt.

HOW MAXIMIZE YOUR PAG-IBIG MP2 INVESTMENT TO ACHIEVE IMPORTANT LIFE GOALS?

Here are the different means to broaden your Pag-IBIG MP2 investment based on your objectives.

1. For long-term investment (10+ years).

If you remain in your 20s or 30s, you have greater than ten years to spend your cash for any type of long-term financial goal, like developing your retirement fund or buying your dream home.

For this, your goal must be to expand your money gradually. Right here's how to attain it via Pag-IBIG MP2 cost savings:.

Develop Pag-IBIG MP2 savings account with the compounded dividend choice.

Give an one-time MP2 payment (ideally not less than Php 30,000).

Withdraw your incomes at the end of the five-year maturation duration.

Re-establish your earnings by opening a brand-new MP2 account.

Repeat the process for one more 5 years and so on.

Withdraw your overall cumulative cost savings and returns when you've reached your target earnings.

2. For capital preservation.

If you remain in your old age (or approaching it), you can not take financial investment dangers anymore. So as opposed to buying the lasting, your objective is to maintain your funding so that your money doesn't lose its worth to rising cost of living.

Pag-IBIG MP2 can assist you accomplish that goal with the yearly reward payout alternative, which permits you to receive dividends per year while maintaining the value of your investment. Here's how to do it:.

Create a Pag-IBIG MP2 account with the yearly reward payment alternative.

Give a single MP2 payment (The greater the amount, the greater return you'll obtain).

Get your returns annually via your Pag-IBIG Commitment Card Plus or the bank account you registered in your MP2 account opening.

Withdraw your advancing incomes when your MP2 account gets to the five-year maturity period.

Re-establish/invest your earnings by opening a brand-new MP2 account.

Repeat the procedure for one more five years and more, as long as you require a consistent stream of income.

3. For multiple medium-term investment goals.

The Pag-IBIG Fund gives opening up as many Pag-IBIG MP2 accounts as feasible. Take advantage of this function if you have a number of goals to attain for the next five years or two.

The optimum variety of accounts will certainly depend on the expenses you're preparing for. Each account will certainly be developed for a details purpose, such as traveling fund, tuition fund, wedding fund, home/vehicle acquisition, etc

For more info like this click here: Pag-IBIG Calamity Loan Application: How to Apply?

[tinypassions]

My financial freedom journey - the beginning

Until January of this year I never really paid a lot of attention towards my finances. I was aware of what my general expenses were, and I knew generally what amount of money was coming each month.

I did have a savings account. And that account wasn’t empty either. Monthly I would transfer 50 euros to my savings account (which, I realize now, is a ridiculous small amount), and when I would get my holiday money, or work-bonus, a part of that would be transferred to my savings account.

I.e. To elaborate and explain a bit of the ‘holiday money’ statement made earlier. In the Netherlands, Labour Unions and Employers once decided upon a system in which that would help employees save up money to spend on leisure and holidays. So every month, about 8% of your salary is saved up by your employer. In the month of may, your employer transfers this money to your account (from the whole year) on top of your regular salary. The reason for this is that in the earlier days, employees would spend their money immediately when they received it (on things like a car, or clothes or just food). Therefore, they didn’t have the budget to go on a holiday to recharge mentally and physically. By holding back part of their net income, and transferring it all in one go before the start of summer holidays and calling it ‘holiday money’, more employees would spend that money to actually relax. These days, it is not really necessary to have this system in place, and in recent years there has been a slight movement to just stop with the annual payment, and just add it to your monthly payment. A lot of companies offer you the option to either get it monthly, or in one go in May. However, the general sentiment is still that it is a nice way to ‘save up’ and use it for a specific goal, whether that be a holiday, or paying off a specific debt.

So in total, I did have well over 15.000 euros in my savings account, without actively saving. I never really saw an issue with this system (and still don’t, so if this is your system, and you're easily paying your bills / spend money the way you want, you do you). My view of this changed a bit though in January 2021.

So what happened? My cats happened. I have two cats, and they’ve been with me for the last 4 years. They never really had any issues. There were some bladder problems so they’re on special diets, and obviously I would get their annual shots etc. But I can easily afford that from my ‘regular’ income. This time though, my cat was a little sick, and during the check-up at the vet, they found out that one of his teeth was loose. A week later, he had a surgery to get his front teeth removed. All in all, I spent over 700 euros in vet bills that month. Mentally, that hurt. However, I also realised that it really didn’t impact me all that much in my regular spending, and I didn’t have to tap into my savings either.

That was the moment I realised I really had to take a closer look at my spending, savings and money goals. And that I could easily take a more goal-orientated mindset towards saving and spending money.

So here we are now, almost to the day 5 months after that moment in January. I have binge-watched Aja Dang’s finance related videos. I have started a spreadsheet with my expected expenses, income and sinking funds. I have experimented a bit with what I thought would be a nice method, and later changed my mind. By documenting my progress, my thought process and my experiences, I hope to inspire you. Whether that is being happy with your current (maybe non-existent ) system, because mine is horrible in your eyes, or by making changes in your own system.

I hope to update you with a blogpost weekly on different steps that I’ve taking these last couple of months.