#my workflow is normal and can be trusted | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuniemaki · 2 years ago

Text

A peek into my workflow for canon fics!

Got quite a few questions lately about how I plot longer fanfics, so here's a proper writeup on my current workflow.

One thing to note is that canon is always easier to work with because the worldbuilding has been done for you, and you really only need to focus on setup and payoff as well as the narrative themes. With an AU, you need to build the world and supporting characters as well in order to deliver a similar impact. An AU is closer to plotting an original story, except you don't need to work so hard on the character dynamics.

As such, my plotting differs slightly from canon to AU fics. Since I haven't finished an AU fic yet I'll share my process for canon fics for now (using Trust in the stars - mind the spoilers!).

Hope this helps other fanfic writers out there :) And remember, all these "rules" exist to be broken, as long as you find a way that works for you.

Fics based in the canon universe have no need for worldbuilding aside from your own headcanons, so I typically focus on driving impact through the narrative itself.

First off, I note down the characters that will show up in this fic and try to summarise the main theme in a one-liner (the one liner can be done after you finish everything, that's why I highlighted it in yellow - I only wrote this after I finished a first plot. This one-sentence summary will guide your main theme and ensure your story ends on the right note).

This is how Trust in the stars began:

No details at all at this stage. After this, I used the three act structure to nail down the key moments of the fic. These are usually scenes I've been brainrotting on in full detail; they are usually drabbles or rambles for epic/emotional scenes I envision.

Using the structure, I slot them into the right places and then figure out how to build up to it. Because, as we all know, there is no impact without setup and payoff. And for setup and payoff to work, we need to step back and see the entire story from an organised perspective.

I'm not a fan of breaking down stories into percentages - I prefer to just look at all the acts and its key points, and see if they make sense and build up to each other. Act 2 can be the shortest act for all I care as long as it successfully sets up for the "crisis" that leads into the climax.

(If you have other key scenes that you were brainrotting on, write them down on a separate doc first or at the bottom of the plot doc, but keep the plot by itself for now.)

You'll notice that there are quite a few differences in the final fanfic from this plot, and that's normal. This simple structure just helps you to see the main climatic moments in each act and how it builds up to the final climax.

Again, no details - don't know what kind of poison, don't know what kind of sus activity, no idea what trap Ningguang sends Beidou to.

This is basically my "first draft".

From this draft, I can already tell that there may be issues with "prototype modified ruin guards" in act 2 because:

The climax, where Liyue is defended from a ruin guard army, doesn't seem linked to Ning & Pantalone negotiating

It also doesn't satisfy the aftermath of Ning & Pantalone accepting each other as equals,

Nor does it fully tie back to the one-sentence summary ("rekindles passions for Beidou").

That means I'm missing the central theme I want the story to have - ultimately Trust in the stars is a story of Ningguang and Beidou daring to trust each other, to fall in love.

So just looking at this, I know I need to:

a) rework the climax and potentially make it less epic (so that it becomes personal)

b) after reworking the climax, adjust act 2 to build up to it

After I'm happy with the key moments, I stay on this doc and start fleshing out main story beats for each section of the act. This is an example of how the beats for Act 1 go for the first 2-3 chapters:

These beats help to iron out the smaller questions - for example, what are the characters doing and thinking? What's their motives for each arc of the story?

I never believed in "giving" your characters obstacles to overcome; they will meet and become obstacles simply because of their motivations and beliefs, that are shaped by the circumstances they experience, just as we are shaped by our experiences in life.

That's how they will drive your story towards its ending. Things happen, but all things happen because someone willed it to happen.

Ruin guard army? Dottore was building it because he loves his little experiments. The law is his obstacle; he's doing it in secret. To build experiments, he needs funding, too, and that's why he has an interest in working with Pantalone.

Pantalone beefing with Ningguang? He must want something that she has. Wealth, power - whatever floats your boat. Ningguang is his obstacle because she's gonna say no.

Beidou running errands for Ningguang? It's part of their contract that's been ongoing for years, never mind her interest in Ningguang. The contract itself is an obstacle to the story's goal: falling in love. Business partners to... lovers?

Ningguang ordering Beidou to collect intel? It's part of her vested interest in knowing what's going on in other nations, because she needs to protect Liyue from political threats. The potential danger Beidou faces becomes an obstacle for Ningguang, as she struggles between needing to send Beidou out and fearing she doesn't return.

Ningguang baiting the Fatui? The intel her network delivers has alerted her to suspicious ongoings and she wants to remove this obstacle asap.

Yelan investigating the Fatui? Ningguang ordered it, and Yelan is working for her (plus she likes her job and danger). What Yelan finds also becomes an obstacle for Ningguang as they try to figure out what's going on.

Ningguang ordering Yelan to do that? She must suspect the Fatui are making moves. And she's trying to clear the obstacle of "lack of knowledge" so that she can make her move.

Why does Ningguang suspect the Fatui is making their move? Because Pantalone wants something from Ningguang and has made it clear through sending Dottore to take the bait. Obviously she won't want to give him anything. She becomes his obstacle.

Dottore getting involved? Pantalone got Dottore to work with him with the promise of gaining knowledge or making experiments, which is Dottore's passion anyway.

Not the most flawless example, but see how each character's motivations is based off what they know from another character's goal, and how their reactions drive the plot forward?

I digressed. Anyway...

After I've finished the beats for the whole fic, I build out the points into actual chapters. Having the beats fleshed out for the full story helps immensely with weaving forewarning into early chapters, because I already know what's going to happen in xx chapter and I have all the turning points in mind.

I find that if I start writing without finishing the plot, I find it hard to continue because I simply don't know what the ending is going to be. It's like driving a car on a road without a destination.

I made this mistake once, and that fic is gonna stay at 1/? for a very long time, I assure you...

Anyway, thanks for coming to my ted talk. Let me know if this was useful ily 😭

#writing tips #writing advice #plotting #three act structure #fanfic advice #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing help #writerscommunity #yuniewrites

8 notes · View notes

jostepherjoestar · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request La Squadra finally seeing the face of their new member who always wears a mask. Like they never take it off but they eventually do for each member after they get comfortable with them as a sign of respect.

Masked new La Squadra member finally showing their face to the boys Scenarios

sfw // gn reader

Oh the absolute delicateness of this has me swooning. I can only imagine how much courage our reader must have to finally show their face to their beloved teammates. These turned out as scenario’s heh sorry. Thanks for requesting!!

Risotto

“Signore can I come in?” you knocked carefully on the thick wooden door separating your stoic capo’s office from your nervous form. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t call your boss by his first name, it felt wrong to talk so casually towards him. Like you hadn’t yet earned that privilege.

“Come in.” His voice muffled by the distance but it still sounded so wonderfully gruff. A deep breath out, the built up courage bringing you inside his office. The dark eyed man was nose deep in papers, his laptop that looked like it was hanging on by wires and good luck whirring on the side of the large oak desk, a picture of a target displayed on the pixelated screen. “Mhh?” his hum having enough intonation to tell you he wanted to know why you came to visit him in the middle of the night. “Is it possible to take a moment? Only if you have the time of course, signore.” you carefully asked not wanting to interrupt his workflow. “Not really. But if you help me sort these out we can discuss in the meantime.” He hadn’t looked up from his papers yet, sorting them after quickly scratching them with his pen. You took him up on the invitation, quietly sitting down in the chair that had been resting in front of his desk, usually reserved for personal meetings. Perhaps this was one. He slid you a folder across the table asking you to sort them by date. Before you accepted the work you carefully took of your mask laying it on the table in front of you, just in your capo’s field of view. He noticed the mask that usually covered your face staring back at him from the table, he was a little weary from working so long that it hadn’t sunk in yet what it meant. After a second that felt like it took ages he finally looked up at you realising your reveal. His eyes didn’t linger but while your eyes met his darker ones, you could see a small dimple appear on his cheek. Quietly he returned to his papers and so did you, feeling relieved that you’d finally done it, it was the first time you’ve seen him smile.

Formaggio

The red sauce swirled with flecks of green herbs as you stirred it mindlessly getting lost in the movement. The smell of tomatoes, garlic and basil filled the entire house and would continue to for a few more days. Whenever you made a big batch of your delicious but simple sauce it stayed on the stove for at least a full night on the smallest amount of heat the stove could muster. Every once in a while you’d go and stir, awakening the aromas again. The sun was starting to set and you were getting ready to let your sauce gently rest for the evening. Alone in the house except for one other: your good friend Formaggio. You hadn’t bothered with putting on your mask, feeling relaxed and ready just in case Formaggio would walk in and see you. He’d grown quite close to you, both enjoying each others company whenever in need for some carefree fun. You could hear him laugh at the tv in the other room where he’d been sitting for quite some time. Only having greeted him while on your way to the small kitchen you all shared at your headquarters. “Mhh your sauce smells soooo good! Can I reserve a couple jars when it’s done? I get special treatment cause we’re friends right?” Formaggio said as he stepped into the kitchen, head still halfway turned to the tv left behind him. His request pulling you out of the stupor of stirring, surprised he hasn’t noticed your face yet. When he turned he had to do a double take. Was that really you? Did a stranger slip into the house just to stir your sauce? “Is that your face?” his quizzical look making you laugh, the way he phrased his shock even more. “What? Is it that bad?” you retorted in amusement while holding up the wooden spoon. “No, no. It’s just... wow. I didn’t really expect this. You look nice, even better than I imagined.” It looked like he was trying his best not to stumble over his words, your witty friend normally being more easygoing in his reactions. “Oh good. However, complementing me does not earn you extra sauce.” you playfully winked at him before returning to stirring.

Illuso

The early morning sun shone brightly through your windows bringing in the new dawn. It was rare for you to be up at the same time as the sun rose, maybe it was more more common for you to finally take your rest as you saw it appear. Sluggishly dragging your slippers across the floor you entered the bathroom to splash some fresh water onto your face so it would help you stay awake. Your current mission requiring you to take an early flight to your target’s destination. As your tired eyes stared back at you, droplets still falling down from your now refreshed face, a sudden movement caused you to tense up. You swear you saw a dark figure move across the mirror faster than you could process. A panic grew in your chest as you realised your mask was still resting on your nightstand. Shit. “Illuso?” you asked quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear you. You wouldn’t put it past him to sneak up on you like this but it would be a strange event since you’d become quite close to the well kept man. You’d go as far to call him a friend. But no one replied. The shadow didn’t return no matter how long you stared. Feeling your suspicion fall you decided to carry on with your morning, maybe you were just tired. But upon entering your room again you were surprised to see your aforementioned friend lounging casually on your comforter. “Morning. Just wanted to wish you a safe trip.” he smiled, it looked so sly sitting on his turned lips. “Illuso don’t scare me like that. It was you in the mirror wasn’t it?” you scolded him, turning your face away from him. But it had been too late, he already saw your beautiful face and kept his strong gaze on you. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to. I just use that mirror to skip along very often.” you still didn’t believe his defence, slowly growing angry at his trespassing. Before you knew it you felt his figure behind you, a muscled arm reaching around. As you looked down you saw him holding out the familiar mask in his hand. You quickly took it from him and fastened it. “I really am sorry darling, but so glad I at least got a glimpse of the beauty you’re hiding.” he smirked. Before you could smack him, he was off again into his mirrorworld avoiding any other further confrontation.

Prosciutto

“You asked for me?” his warm voice entered before he did, slowly pushing open the creaky door to your room as he knocked. As he came to face you Prosciutto stopped in his tracks, his hand still on the door handle gripping it tightly . “I’m so sorry, I should have stayed outside!” his apology was flustered, face snapped to the side so he wasn’t looking at you. To his surprise you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on your desk chair facing the entrance, the only thing that had been different was the fact you’d taken off your mask. Your bright eyes shone at him making Prosciutto wish he could linger longer in the split second he could take in your features. “No! No... it’s ok. This is why I asked you to come. Please, it’s- you can look.” you hurriedly replied waving your hands while you spoke. The way he responded filled you with relief though, the gentlemanly way he tried to respect your privacy wasn’t something you’ll soon forget. He sighed while swallowing deeply, you could clearly see his throat bob with apprehensiveness. The bun’s on his head turned with him while he finally met your eyes again, this time properly. He stood there for a moment, quietly taking in your lovely face. Admiring the way your nose bent, the way the low orange hue of your desk light seemed to make your eyes sparkle. It was silent for a moment, you felt your hands clam up as you gripped your fingers in your palms. “I’m sorry I surprised you Prosciutto.” your voice was soft, hinting at your embarrassment. You don’t really take off your mask for just anyone, it was the way Prosciutto had treated you since you joined that made you feel so welcome and wanted. He always did his best to include you, he never even questioned your mask. “It’s alright. I- You look lovely, uhm. Thank you?” never had you seen him this flustered. It wasn’t like your blonde colleague at all. His hand still hadn’t let go of the door handle, knuckles now white from his grip. You chuckled as his response, how weird of him to thank you. But you felt what he meant, he appreciated that you trusted him.

Pesci

It was a sunny afternoon, the soft rays of winter sunshine lighting up your room with a soft orange hue. The heater had been turned on causing a nice and cozy atmosphere in your little personal bubble. Even though it was sunny, the temperatures had dropped drastically and since you were so used to the natural warmth of Napoli you were wrapped in a warm sweater to further keep in as much heat as possible. You just got done sorting some files to help your capo get some time off from work just like the rest of his team. It was a peaceful day, most of your companions were out and about, going on walks or shopping or out enjoying a drink. Among the ones that stayed behind was the tall, green tufted, shy and nervous teammate you’d started to become closer with. Finally able to get past his own hurdles, he felt comfortable enough around you. Opting to sit closer while watching tv together instead of nervously clamming up and not moving for 20 minutes. It felt like the right time to reveal some more of yourself, entrusting Pesci with the well kept secret that was your face. You hurried downstairs, excited butterflies making your stomach bubble, asking Pesci to meet you in your room in 5 minutes. He seemed a bit surprised and anxious since you hadn’t told him why, a million thoughts going through his head as to why you wanted him there. Did he mess up something? Were you mad at him? Did you not want to be friends anymore? Oh god please make these 5 minutes shorter. The excitement hadn’t left your body, perking up as you heard Pesci’s steps in the hallway before he knocked on your door. You quickly replied for him to come in and sit down on your bed. Seeing how enthusiastic you were made him calm down a bit, still overtly curious as to what it is you wanted to say. “Close your eyes for me please!” You said as you bounced a little on your soft mattress. He cautiously did as you asked and closed his eyes shut and held them that way. Quickly taking off your mask and putting it down on the bed before you, a last breath out and you were ready. “Open please!” He squinted one eye open, trying to get a lay of the view before him, worried you were pranking him. But to his own surprise the view was anything but scary. His face softened and a soft blush made its way over his cheeks as a goofy smile became apparent. “You look so lovely.” It seemed that it was a comment he actually wanted to keep to himself because he swiftly brought his hand to his mouth to cover it. Like he was pushing the words back in, but it was too late. You giggled at his response, still reeling from the excitement. “It’s a secret though, no pictures.” you winked at him to tell him his response was no issue.

Melone

Tired eyes stare at the blue hued screen before him. Another all nighter, the moment he opened new tabs he kept going deeper and deeper, any interesting term that caught his attention got added to the already heaping to-read list. Finally admitting that he needs to hydrate and maybe even eat a snack, Melone sighs and stretches his arms and legs. Cracking and popping heard from his sore joints from sitting in the hunched over position way too long. His purple, vanilla scented blanket still resting on his head and shoulders as he quietly sneaks downstairs towards the kitchen for the quick midnight raid. His fluffy socks muffling his steps as he walks into the dining area that connects to the small kitchen. Only the soft sheen of street lights illuminated the room as he scuffled by the seats. But it doesn’t feel like he’s alone, his senses tingle and his arm hair stands up. Smart enough not the densely ask “Who’s there?” he opts to engage his sneaking abilities. As slow and quiet as possible he scoots over to the light switch ready to fight whoever made their way into the house. The lights spring on, the brightness of the bulbs hurting his tired eyes that desperately needed a rest. After rubbing them and adjusting his vision, he sees a familiar form resting their head on their arms slumped over the kitchen table. Creeping closer to inspect you he sees your body move slightly with the shallow breaths. It seemed you had fallen asleep while reading and someone just turned off the kitchen lights, going along with their night not bothering to wake you up. The thought made Melone huff out a laugh. He did also notice the mask you usually wore resting next to the book, your delicate hand resting next to it, like the second you took it off drowsiness got the better of you. “Hey...Wake up, sleepyhead. Unless you want Prosciutto eating his breakfast and using your head as a table you should probably go to bed.” he whispered in your ear. You weren’t that far gone into sleep so his whispers jolted you up, confusedly staring down in front of you as you felt Melone’s figure close next to you. When you starting lifting your head further up to straighten yourself you felt a stern hand push down your head. “Shhh careful. You’re not wearing your mask!” he hushed into your ear with a mischievous tone. Getting annoyed by his antics you opted to just leave it. Slapping his hand off of your head, standing up and leaving your belongings on the table. Before you left the kitchen for your room you stopped to give Melone a grumpy glare. “Why’re you looking all angry at me? I warned you.” he huffs in amusement as he shoots you a wink and a kiss. You’ll deal with him in the morning.

Ghiaccio

The heavy beats and synths moved through your ears, pounding into your chest as the wind blew harshly against you. It was nighttime and barely any cars other than the one you were in were visible on the road. The cool, salty breeze filling your lungs as you breathed in heavily. You still felt uneasy, gripping your hands into fists, wanting to release a scream so loud it would wake up all of southern Italy. Today was just not your day. Shit upon shit kept piling up and you felt like you were about to explode when Ghiaccio spotted how upset you were and offered to take you on a drive. “Anything will do at this point. Let’s go.” Before he had enough time to grab his keys you were already out the door and had jumped into the passenger seat of his expensive red sports car. You’d been cruising on long winding roads, the ocean view beside you causing at least some relief. Ghiaccio had been awfully silent the whole ride, letting his music fill the air instead. The engine stopped atop a mountain road, an empty parking place near the summit of the hill, a few benches strewn about so visitors could relax. But it was just you two, staring out at the ocean waves that seemed to move in a much more calming way than you felt. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ghiaccio said cautiously as he turned down the volume of the radio so you could talk in peace. “It’s just so... ngh. Just- fuck!” you gripped at your hair in frustration, there were no words that wanted to come out, still too riled up. “Ah, it’s one of those days.” He said while looking at you over his red frames. Like he read your thoughts he suggested you let it all out in one scream. “It helps me sometimes. Don’t worry, no one’s ever come up here to check if I was being murdered. They don’t care, just scream.” Without any warning you flipped off your mask, it landing in Ghiaccio’s lap as he just stared at you in shock. The pure guttural scream you let out felt like it had been brewing for a long time. A wild animal finally let out of its cage. He was impressed by you as you sat back down letting go of the windshield that was being gripped so tightly when you stood up to yell. A heavy sigh leaving your lips as he hands you back your mask. “You’re kind of scary when you’re mad, you know that?” he chuckled under his breath. “I like that about you.” he continued as he saw a small smile grow back on your lips he was so gingerly admiring.

#cozy request #jjba imagines #jjba scenarios #jjba x reader #la squadra #risotto x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader

274 notes · View notes

painted-crow · 4 years ago

Note

What's the difference between asking for advice (Bird) and asking for help (Badger)? I see them as kind of the same, especially since a lot of my problems (medical stuff, writing, etc) aren't ones people can really directly help with. I usually ask for help/advice and then handle the actual task myself. If someone does offer to directly help, it's an unexpected bonus, like my friend offering to help get something from IKEA. I was just asking if she thought it would fit in my car.

There's some overlap, but it sounds like you're more on the Bird end of that Venn diagram.

"Do you think this would fit in my car?" -> asking for advice

"Will you come with me in your pickup?" -> asking for help

It's possible that you don't usually think of ways people can help you directly, because that's not how you usually do things! I can think of ways people might directly help with the writing process, for example (beta readers being the most common example of your friends/peers giving hands-on help), but there's actually a book I wanna dig up and quote for this so bear with me.

From Elizabeth Gilbert's Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

I’m friends with Brené Brown, the author of Daring Greatly and other works on human vulnerability. Brené writes wonderful books, but they don’t come easily for her. She sweats and struggles and suffers throughout the writing process, and always has. But recently, I introduced Brené to this idea that creativity is for tricksters, not for martyrs. It was an idea she’d never heard before. (As Brené explains: “Hey, I come from a background in academia, which is deeply entrenched in martyrdom. As in: ‘You must labor and suffer for years in solitude to produce work that only four people will ever read.’”)

But when Brené latched on to this idea of tricksterdom, she took a closer look at her own work habits and realized she’d been creating from far too dark and heavy a place within herself. She had already written several successful books, but all of them had been like a medieval road of trials for her—nothing but fear and anguish throughout the entire writing process. She’d never questioned any of this anguish, because she’d assumed it was all perfectly normal. After all, serious artists can only prove their merit through serious pain. Like so many creators before her, she had come to trust in that pain above all.

But when she tuned in to the possibility of writing from a place of trickster energy, she had a breakthrough. She realized that the act of writing itself was indeed genuinely difficult for her . . . but that storytelling was not. Brené is a captivating storyteller, and she loves public speaking. She’s a fourth-generation Texan who can string a tale like nobody’s business. She knew that when she spoke her ideas aloud, they flowed like a river. But when she tried to write those ideas down, they cramped up on her.

Then she figured out how to trick the process.

For her last book, Brené tried something new—a super-cunning trickster move of the highest order. She enlisted two trusted colleagues to join her at a beach house in Galveston to help her finish her book, which was under serious deadline.

She asked them to sit there on the couch and take detailed notes while she told them stories about the subject of her book. After each story, she would grab their notes, run into the other room, shut the door, and write down exactly what she had just told them, while they waited patiently in the living room. Thus, Brené was able to capture the natural tone of her own speaking voice on the page—much the way the poet Ruth Stone figured out how to capture poems as they moved through her. Then Brené would dash back into the living room and read aloud what she had just written. Her colleagues would help her to tease out the narrative even further, by asking her to explain herself with new anecdotes and stories, as again they took notes. And again Brené would grab those notes and go transcribe the stories.

Isn't that the most Badger secondary workflow you've ever heard? 😂

#sortinghatchats #hufflepuff secondary #ravenclaw secondary #asks #paint speaks #brene brown is also friends with jenny lawson #she's connected to all kinds of cool people #which is very Badger of her lol

22 notes · View notes

shirorinyuaaru · 4 years ago

Text

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 1 - Silence

I decided to post my LevixReader fic on tumblr from AO3 since I know a lot of people like to read fics here too! If you decide you want to read it on the AO3 platform my username is Shirorinyuaru :)

—

There is something to be said about the deafening silence following death. More than the stench, the morbid visuals, and the stomach-churning fear — There is silence. For Levi, seeing his squad absolutely decimated by the Female Titan was only made that much more difficult by the soundless forest and the painful thrum of his heart as it fought to escape his chest. Petra, Oluo, Eld, Gunther - All casualties of a failed mission and, by Levi’s standards, all pointless deaths. He wasn’t quite sure what hurt him more; was it knowing that it was bound to happen eventually, or the fact that he had been unable to bring their bodies home to their families? For those left behind, there was nothing. The thought made even Humanity’s Strongest Soldier sick.

The day his original Special Ops squad was lost, a part of him went with them. While Levi often kept his emotions tightly locked away in a bottle behind the wall that he had built following the deaths of Farlan and Isabel, he was not heartless. His team - while he would not outwardly admit it - was his family.

He had already lost too many members of his family.

So when you and the other members of the 104th Cadet Corps were brought even deeper into the fold of the Survey Corps, he found himself conflicted. He knew that the war to save humanity was a necessary one. He knew that soldiers died and had to be replaced - he had seen it done for years. However, this time he couldn’t quite quash the emotional turmoil that came with seeing your bright, determined eyes in training, ready for the inevitable trauma to come.

—

When had it started? You often found yourself in Captain Levi’s office at the behest of Commander Erwin, who sent you to aid Levi with his overwhelming load of paperwork and his abhorrent sleeping patterns (if you could even call them that). The arrangement had begun shortly before the expedition to capture the Female Titan. Captain Levi was, unsurprisingly, less-than-enthused with the idea of some new brat from the 104th Cadet Corps suddenly becoming his “personal assistant” - At least, that was what Erwin had insisted he refer to you as. A command coming directly from Erwin could not be ignored, and Levi was well aware of it. So instead of throwing you out on your ass the moment you first walked through the door, he simply replied with an annoyed “tch,” and returned his attention to the overdue paperwork making a mess of his desk.

For the first few days, you simply observed his pre-existing workflow. The blissful quiet and lack of interruptions were music to Levi’s ears, so he let you be. Meanwhile, you diligently memorized when he was most productive in his administrative duties, when and how he took his tea, when the best times to clean up were, and when you should leave him alone. Frankly, your Captain was terrible at remembering to take care of himself - he was so busy taking care of his duties to the Corps. With the information you had surmised, you devised a plan that you were unsure would even work on notoriously stubborn Levi Ackerman. Regardless, you had been given a task by Commander Erwin that you were compelled to complete.

—

1 Week to Expedition

It was uncharacteristically cold out. Rain battered the windows of Levi’s office and the howling wind proved an irritating distraction from the work in front of him. Nevermind that he had to light a fire in the fireplace to keep the damn room warm. Dirt. Dust. Grime. Just the thought of how utterly filthy the room was going to be because of the fucking fire roaring in the fireplace made him shudder.

Well, he mused, I can at least keep Cadet l/n busy with deep cleaning the office. It should keep her out of my hair.

As if on cue, three successive raps on his door pulled him from his reverie. He lifted his head slowly, his piercing grey eyes narrowing on the doorframe. “Name and business,” Levi demanded in his characteristic, monotone drawl.

“Cadet l/n, Captain Levi. I’m reporting for my daily duties. May I enter?” You responded, slightly muffled by the thick oak door and howling of the wind.

“Proceed.” Levi did not wait for you to come in before returning to his paperwork.

He was about to order you to begin cleaning when he picked up on the familiar scent of black tea wafting into the room. Before he could raise his eyes to find the source, he caught sight of a delicate hand placing a cup of steaming liquid on the left side of his workspace. Wordlessly, he looked up toward you with an eyebrow quirked in question.

“It’s not poisoned, Captain. It’s just Earl Grey,” you said, slightly amused by the suspicion Levi was communicating in his expression.

“Yes, but why?”

“Because this is when you normally start craving another cup, and it’s freezing out.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as Levi tried to process what your words meant. She’s more observant than I thought. That could be dangerous.

With an air of hesitation, he picked up the cup and brought it to his lips. The intoxicating scent of bergamot filled his senses as he took a sip. Perfectly prepared. Not many people know how to make a good fucking cup of tea around here. He was impressed, but he wasn’t about to let you know it.

“Not bad, Cadet. At least you can make a half-way decent cup of tea.” Levi uttered, returning to his work. “Maybe now you could make yourself useful and -”

You already knew what he planned to assign you, so you bravely (or stupidly, you weren’t sure just yet) cut him off and save both parties some time.

“Clean the dust and grime building up from the fire? I was already planning on it.” Without another word, you turned to get the cleaning supplies you needed and went to work.

Captain Levi was dumbstruck by the forwardness you had exhibited. If it had been anyone else, he would have given them stable duty for a month. For some reason though, he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but impressed by your ability to take charge. Attractive , Levi mused - not that the closed-off soldier considered acting on such frivolous thoughts. A distraction; that’s all ‘romance’ was.

Unlike the last three days that you had simply sat watching Captain Levi, you were now fully engaged in the tasks set before you by Commander Erwin. It came as a surprise to the normally nonplussed man; you were entirely in tune with his schedule and complimented it with such grace and simplicity that it was as if you were another him. Frankly, it made his work much easier and he was grateful for it.

—

4 Days till Expedition

You could tell Captain Levi was in a mood when he unceremoniously flung the door of his office open, strode to his desk, and practically collapsed into his chair. Instead of asking him about his morning like you were in the habit of doing, you returned to the task of dusting off the shelves closest to the fireplace. The Captain had been dissatisfied with the original job you had done following the day he had to use the blasted fireplace to make sure his ass didn’t freeze off.

Levi was in a mood. Erwin briefed him on the upcoming expedition and plan to capture the Female Titan whom they suspected of having infiltrated the military in some way. He had complete trust in Erwin - he knew the Commander had a reason for hiding the true goal of the expedition from everyone but a select, trusted few. They had a rat - a fucking disgusting rat that needed to be taken care of quickly to ensure the longevity of the Survey Corps.

Before he could dig himself deeper into the negative feedback loop that plagued his mind, you knew you had to intervene. Levi was already a grumpy and insufferable man on a good day; you didn’t want to even broach the idea of what he could be like on a bad day. You already warmed the kettle in preparation for his return and made a blend of chamomile, peppermint, and spearmint to relieve the tension afflicting your superior. Whether willing to admit it or not, you genuinely cared for his well-being - not just because Commander Erwin had assigned you to see to it. It was then you began to wonder when you had started to feel this way.

Quietly, so not to disturb Levi just yet, you made your way over to his desk and gingerly set down his tea. “Careful,” you murmured, turning the handle toward him even though you knew he wouldn’t use it, “it’s a bit hot still, but it should provide you some relief.”

Levi inhaled deeply and carded his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. As he lifted his head, steel-grey eyes met gentle e/c ones and he felt his heart squeeze. You weren’t one to hide behind a wall - Everything you felt and thought was out in the open. Levi admired that about you.

“Thanks.” He murmured before taking a careful sip of the tea. He allowed the fragrance and the comfort of the warm liquid to envelop him. You watched on as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment and found yourself unable to look away. He’s so beautiful. You mused before quietly chastising yourself. That’s your captain. Your superior. Nothing more, nothing less.

You made a move to walk away when a warm hand curled around your wrist, gently stopping you. “Captain?” You called, bemused by the sudden physical contact.

Levi wasn’t entirely sure why he had reached for you at that moment, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to say that could make it less awkward. Instead, he cleared his throat and let go of your wrist. “Nothing, sorry. Thanks for the tea, Brat.”

You smiled to yourself and turned to glance back at him, your h/c hair gently swaying with your turn. “You’re welcome, Captain.”

—

2 Days til Expedition

“Levi,” his monotone voice rang out in the otherwise silent office.

“I’m sorry?” You replied, bemused.

“Drop the honorifics when we’re alone. Levi is just fine.” He muttered, furiously scribbling on a report Erwin had requested be given to him that evening, two fucking weeks before schedule might he add.

“Alright Ca— er — Levi.” You responded dubiously. It was difficult to know what the Captain was thinking, especially when his inscrutable countenance gave so little away.

You knew his personality, his outward presentation, was one that served as a defense much like that of Wall Sina. It protected him in the deepest sense, and you could understand why. What you couldn’t wrap your head around was why he - consciously or not - was letting you behind his walls. It took everything inside of you to not lend that fact to hope for the future.

You are a soldier. You are dedicated to your duty to protect humanity. The Captain is the same and that is exactly how things will remain. This was a thought you had to constantly drill into yourself. It was the only way to keep your blossoming feelings at bay.

Levi wouldn’t admit the way his heart skipped a beat when you said his name. In fact, he refused to acknowledge it entirely. Any feelings he may have towards you - any inkling of admiration, of affection - he would shove them deep within himself just as he had done with everyone and everything else.

“Brat - Don’t you have training to get to? You’re about to go out of the walls for the first time. I’d consider getting extra training time in. Don’t want you to shit your pants the first time you see a titan.” Levi grumbled. I also don’t want you to die - you need to make it back.

“Alright, Cap— Levi. I’ll see you tomorrow. Please make sure to get to bed at a reasonable time. And no more black tea! Stick to camomile. Commander Erwin is going to kill me if I can’t get your sleeping schedule in check.” You called after him before dashing out the door. It seems you were more serious and devoted to your training than he had originally thought.

Though it was hard to ignore the emptiness encompassing his study in your absence. Regardless, he persisted.

—

The days leading up to the expedition were hectic. The formation was changed repeatedly before finally being nailed down, the superior officers were more tense than usual, and the new cadets were practically shaking the entire barracks with their anticipation. Y/N continued her assistant duties to Levi as much as she could, but he was often in meetings or away from the office. Furthermore, he had demanded that she take more time to prepare for what was to come.

—

Expedition Day

“Brat - You’re riding with my Squad.” The way he said it left no room for argument.

“But the Commander has me placed with Mike’s squad. Why the sudden change?” You inquired, eyebrows raised. Something didn’t seem right about this sudden transfer and you wondered if it had to do with an actual need to change the formation or more with the personal concerns of Captain Levi.

“Did I say you could ask questions? Just follow orders.” Levi snapped before grabbing the reins of your horse and guiding yours right next to his. “Stay close, listen to my commands, and don’t get killed. I need another person on my squad to guard Eren.” He certainly hoped that explanation would keep you from asking more questions. I can’t even admit the reason I need you on my squad to myself, how the fuck do you think I could tell you?

“Yes, Captain” was the only response you gave before taking your place in his squad’s formation.

At first, the plans Commander Erwin had set out seemed to be going off without a hitch. Titans were being spotted on the outer edges of the formation, but they were dealt with swiftly by capable soldiers. While the current situation put you somewhat at ease, you resolved to remain alert and aware of your respondings. After all, you had to prepare yourself for the worst.

What you didn’t realize was that the worst was coming at you at an inhumanly fast rate.

Flares from the right flank shot off in what seemed like rapid succession. While that may not have been unusual, the color turned your blood cold.

Black.

“Shit,” Levi hissed, “The right flank has been compromised.”

Trying to remain calm, you surveyed your surroundings. “Your orders, Captain?”

“Eren, fire a black flare” came the response.

“R-Right!” Eren replied, fumbling for his flare gun. It took him a moment, but the flare was sent up without a hitch.

It was soon after that a messenger came to report the Female Titan was headed for the center where Levi’s squad was positioned. In response, he sent Petra to forward the message to their left. “Come back immediately after sending it along!” Levi roared over the galloping of the horses.

“Yes, Captain!” was her swift reply as she shot to the left on her horse. She had always been a demon on horseback - quick, balanced, skilled.

You monitored the situation and noticed that Levi was acting off - he was staring straight ahead. “Captain, shouldn’t we be more aware of our surroundings?” You called, hoping to get him to come to his senses.

“Shut up and follow me, Cadet.” He said evenly, his eyes hardening. “We follow where the flares tell us to go and that’s the end of it.”

Silence overtook the group as each member of the Special Ops squad tried to remain calm as they were led into the thick trees of a forest.

“Captain! We’re being separated from the rest of the formation!” came Eren’s frantic protest.

There was no response from Levi.

“Captain what about the others?!” He tried again, becoming increasingly agitated with each step deeper into the forest.

“Eren, trust in the Captain. Trust in us.” Petra replied in a soothing, but firm tone. “Look ahead. Keep riding.”

“But -”

“Trust us.”

The reassurance didn’t last long. A loud roar shook the trees around the squad and the ground trembled with each step of a titan flying towards them at inhuman speeds. You noticed as several corps members flung themselves from the surrounding trees to intercept the Female Titan, but it was all for naught. Not only was she unphased, she tossed them aside like fodder and crushed them under her. What horrified you the most was her knowledge of the ODM gear that your comrades were using. She used it against them, grabbing for the wires and using their momentum to crush their bodies against the nearby trees. Swallowing thickly, you turned away and picked up the pace.

“Captain, your orders!” Petra called, well aware that the situation was dire.

Deafening silence was the only response.

“CAPTAIN!” Petra pleaded, her eyes boring into the back of his head.

“Petra he isn’t telling us something for a reason! Just follow him - He won’t lead us astray!” You yelled, heart squeezing painfully. Your faith, your life, it was all in Levi’s hands.

You knew he wouldn’t let the flame die.

Eren, however, did not have the faith that the rest of the squad had in Levi. In fact, he was astonished that you would show such dedication to him when right behind you, your comrades were being slaughtered in an attempt to defend him . To defend the squad protecting him. His eyes clouded with confliction before becoming resolute. He lifted his hand to his mouth, prepared to take on the Female Titan himself. He would not let more of his friends die trying to protect him.

“Eren, please! Don’t do it! Captain left that to you as a last resort - we promise we will get through this safely.” Petra’s voice rang through the squad’s formation. The desperation and pain in her words were not lost.

Once again Eren was in conflict.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Levi stopped you.

“If you want to do it, I won’t stop you.” came his solemn reply. “I don’t pretend to know the right answer to everything. Make the choice that you feel you won’t regret.”

Once again you felt your chest tighten, unsure if it was from the anxiety brought by the situation or by the muted self-disgust behind Levi’s words. You couldn’t look at Eren. You couldn’t look at anyone. Instead, you stared straight ahead, focusing your thoughts on completing the assignment set before you.

Eren let out a yell of frustration before returning both hands to the reigns of his horse and relief flooded the squad.

“We’re almost there.” Levi murmured, mostly to himself. “Just a little longer.”

His words were like a prayer - one that you also sent into the world.

—

Before long, you ran across a mass of soldiers on each side of the road with large contraptions at the ready. While you were unsure of their purpose, you caught a glimpse of Hange’s determined face in the trees. Whatever they were, you knew they could be deadly.

The Female Titan was close by as Levi’s squad passed the traps, and once you were safely out of range you heard Hange’s order ring clearly through the forest.

“FIRE.”

The sound of traps being sprung, skin and muscle being torn apart, and yells of anguish reached your ears. You whipped your head around furiously and found that the Female Titan had been pierced by what looked like steel spikes connected to sturdy, metal ropes.

Eren had been bait. You wanted to vomit.

—

Levi had unceremoniously left you all in the command of Eld before returning to assist with the capture of the Female Titan.

“Tie up the horses somewhere safe, rest, and wait for my signal.” Were his only words before flying through the trees.

The rest was more than welcome, but the reality of what had occurred was now heavy on the shoulders of all of you. Your throat felt thick and swallowing did nothing to relieve the discomfort. Eren had been bait. The entire squad was used to capture that abnormal and in the process, you all could have died.

But you didn’t.

Petra, Eld, Oluo, Gunther, Eren, and you all discussed the revelation in depth. While hurt that you had not been told the specifics of the operation, you each realized that it was probably for the best. There was most likely a spy among the Survey Corps, and this was the best way to ensure the expedition succeeded. Now that the Female Titan was in custody, the Survey Corps could learn far more about what Titans were and how they functioned.

After what seemed like an eternity, Petra noticed a flare being shot off.

“Must be Captain Levi’s signal to meet. Let’s go.” Oluo grunted before mounting his horse.

—

You rode in relative silence, all grateful that the hard part was over and you could return to the safety behind Wall Rose.

You really shouldn’t have counted yourselves safe before the gates closed behind you. It was Gunther who noticed a suspicious individual soaring through the trees above you all, donning the Survey Corps uniform.

“That’s them! That has to be the damn snitch!” Gunther yelled before taking off after them in his ODM gear.

“Gunther wait!” Petra yelled.

“Dammit Gunther don’t go off on your own!” came Eld’s strict reply.

Before anyone knew what had happened, it was too late. Gunther was dead, hanging limply by his gear lines that were still attached to the tree.

You were being targeted.

—

Eren had been told to save himself. You were supposed to make sure he stayed safe. Petra, Eld, and Oluo stayed behind to defend against the Female Titan who had once again appeared. The operation had failed; you were paying for it with your lives.

Seeing the merciless slaughter of the team you had grown close with over the past month set a fire within you. Your blood boiled, your skin burned, and a deafening snarl tore from your throat.

“EREN GET TO SAFETY!” You commanded before taking off towards the titan.

“Y/N NO!” Eren screamed.

You shot through the trees at lightning speed, eyes filled with murderous rage. Petra. Oluo. Eld. Gunther. You would not let their deaths go unresolved. You would get revenge. You launched yourself at the Female Titan’s nape, retracting your ODM gear so that it could not be used against you. Another scream tore through your throat as you drew your blades, determined to shred the bitch until nothing remained.

The Female Titan was aware of your oncoming attack - not that you had done much to hide it. The stealth that you were once known for in your graduating class had been thrown to the wind along with your caution. You weren’t sure why you had allowed your emotions to overcome you, but you knew there was no turning back. Odds were you would suffer the same fate as your friends.

Well, that was better than the survivor’s guilt anyway.

Time seemed to slow as the titan turned her attention to you, reaching up to swipe you into oblivion. Regardless, you pressed on. With a silent apology to Levi, whom you’d grown close to, you positioned your blades for his signature move in unconscious homage to Humanity’s Greatest Soldier. You would not go down without a fight. However, before you could land a blow, you felt yourself being knocked to the side. The Female Titan was now out of view.

At first, you thought she had simply attacked you first, but you became intensely aware of strong arms enveloping you as you flew through the forest. The next thing you heard was an inhuman roar.

Eren had transformed.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Hissed your savior, grey eyes cast ahead. A storm was brewing within them, but he refused to let it roar uncontained. Not in the middle of a life-or-death battle.

Your Captain had come for you, and your protests died in your throat. “Petra…Oluo…They all-” was the weak response you provided.

“They fulfilled their duties as soldiers. You, however, surrendered to your emotion and almost threw away your life.” Snarled Levi.

Silence was all that followed. Deafening. You had no rebuttal.

“We’ll continue this in my office after we get back, Cadet.”

—

Having to throw your friends’ bodies from the cart as you made your getaway with the surviving members of the Corps only added salt to the wound. While others fought the order originally, you found yourself with a stone in your stomach and a lump in your throat.

For Levi, it was the same.

With one last look at the people you had come to love as family, you sent them off to the vast unknown, wishing you could follow.

—

Watching Levi listen to the proud declarations of Petra’s father was absolute torture. His body was slumped in defeat, his raven hair covering his eyes. Without a word you jumped from your cart and went to Petra’s family to break the news. Your hand took his wrist as Levi rode away and with a deep breath and a resolute stare, you broke the news.

“Petra Ral was a brave soldier who lost her life in the line of duty. Her ultimate sacrifice for the sake of humanity will not be forgotten - It will live on in me and the rest of the Survey Corps. I’m sorry for your loss, but I hope knowing she remains within us all is of some comfort to you.”

You weren’t sure what hurt you more: the hopelessness in his eyes, or the sound of the dirt giving way as the poor man fell to his knees.

It took everything you had not to cry.

—

Levi’s Office 2100 hours.

“Do you plan to defend yourself, Cadet?”

“No, Captain. I have no defense.”

The familiarity that Levi had shared with you was absent. A somber, tense atmosphere replaced it. After everything you had lost that day, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

“You went out there, blades at the ready, with the plan to die .” He began, struggling to keep his tone even. “Your poor excuse for revenge is a pretty fucking thin veil for your intention to give up. Remind me, did I train you that way?”

“No, Captain.” You uttered, e/c eyes cast downward. Your throat was raw from your earlier outburst, and all you could manage was a quiet, hoarse voice.

Levi’s patience was quickly wearing thin. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from you, but this wasn’t it. Your lack of fight was unnerving, your usual fire stamped out.

A loud slam reverberated in the room and you jumped. Levi appeared directly in front of you, as if out of thin air. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look at him. “Is ‘No, Captain’ the only response I’m going to get from you all night, f/n?” A snarl ripped from his throat, the storm in his chest beginning to overwhelm him.

You swallowed thickly, locking your gaze on his. “What would you have of me, Captain? I have no excuse. I have no reason. I lost my composure in the heat of battle and resounded to die. Is that what you want to hear? That I gave up? That I watched the people closest to me get slaughtered and felt I couldn’t go on?” The volume of your voice increased with every sentence you spoke. You ignored the burning in the back of your throat and the scratching that came with every syllable. Not only were you ashamed of your actions during the expedition, but you were also frustrated that Levi would not leave you alone.

“I lost my Squad, f/n! You don’t see me giving in to despair.”

“I lost my friends - my family!” You yelled, surprised by your own insubordination.

Once again the somber melody of silence fell between you both.

The conflict in his steel-grey eyes was palpable. Levi’s heart was hammering in his chest. His breaths were being pointedly controlled.

You expected him to hit you, kick you, throw you out. You expected him to respond in the same way he did with any other misbehaving cadet, but he didn’t. He just…stared at you, trying to figure out what to say.

“Then you know why I don’t want to lose you too.” Came his eventual reply. He did not allow you time to respond. “Dismissed, Cadet. I want you in my office at 0900 hours tomorrow. This office is filthy and the floors need to be scrubbed.” Levi reluctantly pulled away, turning his back to you.

He couldn’t handle any more tonight.

You took a deep breath and turned on your heel, making your way to the door. The familiar texture of the handle beneath you was grounding.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Levi.” And with that, you were gone.

You weren’t sure where this left you both, but it didn’t matter. Morning was just around the bend.

#levixreader #levi x reader #attack on titan #reader insert #shingeki no kyoujin #attack on titan imagines #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman

32 notes · View notes

arianaderalte · 4 years ago

Text

my employee keeps getting deadnamed by a coworker

A reader writes:

I have managed “John,” a transgender man, for about two years. John does not keep his transgender status a secret, but he also doesn’t go out of his way to tell people, so some people know and some don’t. “Lizzy” recently transferred to a department that works closely with ours. She previously did not know that John was trans, but now that she’s interacting with him much more often, she’s found out. At first, she didn’t seem to have an issue with it, but then she discovered some articles he’d published while still going by “Sally,” and now she insists on calling him Sally. She claims that she has no problem with trans people, but that she feels it’s important to call John by the name he was given at birth “out of respect for his mother” (John’s mother does not work for our company, and to the best of my knowledge, she and Lizzy have never met).

John and I have both asked her to stop, but she refuses. On John’s request, I have also gone to her manager, but Lizzy has a very domineering personality and her manager avoids confrontation, so I don’t think he’s said anything to her. Not only is Lizzy’s insistence on deadnaming John offensive, it is confusing, because many people don’t understand who she’s talking about when she mentions Sally. I’ve tried casually correcting her in the moment, as if I thought she was making a mistake, and John has outright refused to answer to the name Sally, but she keeps saying that it’s disrespectful to his mother to use a name she didn’t choose for him. John complained to HR, but they said that because she is not explicitly harassing him for being trans, they can’t do anything. (For the record, our state did not consider being LGBT a protected class, though from what I understand, the Supreme Court ruling should have changed that.)

John has now started exclusively calling Lizzy “Elizabeth”; there is another Elizabeth in the office, and if there’s any confusion over which Elizabeth he’s talking about, John uses Lizzy’s maiden name, rather than her married name. Lizzy HATES this and has complained to him, me, and half the office, but he says that it’s out of respect for her mother. Honestly, I think this is hilarious (and kind of want to start doing it too), but I feel that as a manager, I shouldn’t encourage John to deliberately antagonize Lizzy, even though she started it (and definitely shouldn’t join in). However, it does seem extremely unfair to tell John that not only does he have to put up with Lizzy using his deadname, he has to use her preferred name. Do I have to tell John to knock it off? Is there anything more I should do about Lizzy?

Lizzy is horrible, and your HR sucks too.

It’s ludicrous for your HR department to say that Lizzy isn’t harassing John for being trans, when clearly she is. Anyone who has even a passing familiarity with the ways in which trans people get harassed knows exactly what this is.

You’re right about the recent Supreme Court ruling that discrimination based on gender identity is illegal. (But even aside from that, what’s up with your company refusing to intervene when an employee is refusing to call another employee by his proper name? It sounds like there’s an agenda there.)

How high up have you gone in HR? If you can go higher, do — because it’s possible someone will overrule whoever there told you that. Point out the recent court ruling, and point out that the company is opening itself to legal liability by refusing to protect John from Lizzy’s harassment.

You should also go back to Lizzy’s manager and push the issue again. You said he prefers to avoid confrontation, and often the best approach with people like that is to make not acting the more unpleasant option for them. So be pushy, be loud, and keep following up — “Have you talked to Lizzy yet?” … “This is still a problem, when will you be talking to Lizzy?” … “What Lizzy is doing is unacceptable. Can you call her in right now and we’ll both speak to her?” … etc. Keep up the pressure until he does his job. You owe that to John.

You also said you’ve been casually correcting Lizzy when you hear her deadnaming John, as if she’s just making an innocent mistake. Stop giving her that cover. Call it out more honestly: “Lizzy, you’ve been told repeatedly to stop calling John that. Why are you continuing to do it?” If she trots out her ridiculous line about respecting John’s mother, then say, “John’s name is not up to you. You are being disrespectful and embarrassing yourself, and you need to stop.”

As for John calling Lizzy “Elizabeth” and using her maiden name (out of respect for her mother!) … well, it’s pretty brilliant. If your company says it’s okay with what Lizzy is doing, then surely this is the logical conclusion. It would be tremendously unfair for you to tell John he has to stop, while Lizzy gets to continue harassing him. Let Lizzy experience some very deserved consequences of her actions.

But that’s not enough, amusing as John’s handling of it is. You need to keep pushing — with HR, with Lizzy’s manager, with anyone else with appropriate authority here — because you can’t let an employee be repeatedly harassed on your watch.

The update, a month later:

Hearing from Alison and all of the commenters made me realize that I needed to talk to John about what he wanted to do. I apologized to him for not being proactive enough with this problem and for underestimating just how offensive Lizzy’s actions were, reiterated that I was on his side, told him that I was setting up a meeting with Lizzy and her manager for later that day, and asked what he wanted to do and what he wanted me to do. He admitted that although he was joking about it, he was actually really upset by Lizzy constantly dead naming him, so in addition to needing her to stop, he would rather not work with her anymore, or at least work with her as little as possible. I also told him that I was willing to make a big stink about both Lizzy’s actions and HR’s inaction to my boss (Lizzy’s grandboss) and the higher ups in HR, but that I wanted to make sure he was comfortable with being explicitly identified as being transgender and experiencing transphobic harassment. He said he was worried about escalating the issue himself, because he didn’t want to come off as pushy or overly sensitive, but that he did want me to do it.

I took Alison’s advice with Lizzy’s boss and just checked his and Lizzy’s Outlook calendars to find a time when they were both free and set up a meeting, figuring that his dislike of confrontation meant that he would go along with it. I said that Lizzy’s offensive behavior towards John had gone on way too long and that she needed to immediately stop calling him any name other than John. She tried to say that she had no problem with transgender people (I had not mentioned anything about him being trans, only that she had to call him by his name) and that it was a matter of respect for his mother, but I interrupted her and said that John’s mother and her feelings were irrelevant and that she was being deeply disrespectful to John, who is actually her coworker and thus actually needed her respect. I also said that it didn’t matter how she felt about trans people or if she didn’t intend to be transphobic, purposely calling John by his dead name was a transphobic action and it needed to stop, and that until I could trust her to treat him with respect, she was not to attend any of our team meetings and any workflow that would normally pass between her and John would go through me first and I would pass on the information. Her boss spoke for the first time then and said that that sounded like it might make us miss deadlines on some of our tighter turnarounds, which I agreed was true, but that given that Lizzy refused to use John’s name, I felt I had an ethical duty to prevent her from speaking to him at all, not to mention that allowing her to continue harassing him would open us up to litigation. I tried to say this all as matter-of-factly as possible, so it would be clear that I didn’t care how Lizzy actually felt about mothers or trans people, and that I wasn’t asking for suggestions on what should be done.

After that meeting, I emailed my team and explained that due to Lizzy’s outrageous and offensive behavior, I was changing our procedures so that she and John would no longer have direct contact, and that they should expect some delays in communication between her and our team. I also apologized for having allowed her to behave in such a blatantly transphobic fashion for close to a month, which should never have been tolerated at all, and explained that I had told her that she had to stop immediately, so if she referred to John as Sally again, they should let me know, either by forwarding me an email if it was in writing or by documenting the incident if it were over the phone or video chat, and should also feel free to tell her that she was being offensive and needed to stop.

This is when things get satisfying! My boss was included on the email to my team, and he called me about half an hour later asking about it. I hadn’t told him much about the Lizzy situation, because he has very little patience for people complaining about their interpersonal conflicts to their boss, and while this is a lot more significant than an interpersonal conflict, I thought he wouldn’t want to hear about it anyway, especially since he doesn’t have much contact with my team in normal times and has had even less while we’ve been virtual. Once I explained what had been happening, he said that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard and set up a meeting for the two of us with the head of HR for the next day (I asked John if he wanted to come and he said he’d rather not and he trusted me to take care of it). The head of HR agreed that this was outrageous and that HR should never have tolerated it. A week later, Lizzy got fired. Then the HR rep who had said this wasn’t explicitly transphobic got fired about about a week and a half later, Lizzy’s boss had to go through some pretty extensive management training and there’s talk that he may transfer into a position without any direct reports, the entire HR department did training on LGBT issues and what is now required of them because of Bostock v Clayton County, the entire company got an anonymous survey asking if we had ever been harassed or felt that we were the victim of discrimination in the workplace, and the head of HR personally apologized to John for the first HR rep’s mishandling of the case and encouraged him to come to her if he ever felt harassed based on his gender identity.

I also sent John the link to my original letter, and he told me to thank everyone for all your supportive comments. And of course I want to thank you all as well, for giving me the confidence to escalate this situation the way I should have from the beginning. It’s seeming more and more like Lizzy, her boss, and the first HR rep were problems, but that the company as a whole really is the good place to work that I’d always thought it was.

Link

#this was so satisfying to read that I had to share it #ask a manager #deadnaming #trans rights

15 notes · View notes

itstechforschool · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, I'm Feo and I started 2 months ago to become a paperless student. At the moment I'm struggling to stop using "normal" folders. I have downloaded 2 Apps for handwritten notes (good notes & notablillity) and enjoy using both. (In my opinion, They have differentfunctions I don't want to miss) But I still miss the normal paper and things like post it notes and the way I write evenly big during a complete note. Do you have any ideas to make it easier to become paperless?

Hi Feo! You’re actually asking an important question.

I know it is not easy the transition into digital note-taking, but my main advice is to be patient and try multiple things and note-taking methods, in order to figure out what works best for you.

I personally use GoodNotes to take general notes. I have a notebook there for each of my classes and I write down everything in it. I found it very helpful to have a note-taking style that allows you to know how to put down information in a specific and consistent way ( such as specific styles of headings, subheadings, and body). This allows you to know exactly how to write down information every time, and make it easier for you. I'll post something related to my note-taking style so you can have it as a reference!

You said you miss using post-it while taking notes. I used to use them the most while taking notes in textbooks. Now I use Adobe Acrobat and the Kindle app to read my books. In both apps, you can highlight text AND write notes on certain highlighted text or pages. Those are my posts-it now! I know it can be hard to get used to using this type of note, but trust me, it gets easier with time while you get used to writing and reviewing your notes in this new format.

As I said, the main thing here is to give yourself time to find what works better for you. It is not easy! but once you find your workflow, you're going to love how convenient it is to be a paperless student!

#answered questions #paperless student #digital note taking

3 notes · View notes

halictus-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 4 of 5)

Remus woke early the next morning, feeling energetic. He brewed a fresh pot of coffee and sat down at his table/desk combination to work on his novel. Safely wrapped in an oversized sweater, he opened the window to let the fresh cold morning air in. It wasn’t until he had settled comfortably into a workflow and even lit a cinnamon-scented candle before he remembered that he should probably still be upset over being blown off from a dinner date last night.

Instead, he felt strangely at peace. Going to the Italian restaurant, laughing with Sirius, and eating pizza had seemed to wash away his troubles, and he wasn’t going to complain if it took a surprisingly short amount of time to feel normal again. After writing a chapter and a half, it was time to leave for his breakfast with the girls.

As Remus walked out of his apartment building, he tossed his jacket over his shoulder and almost skipped down the sidewalk–– tiramisu safely in hand–– with joy. Something about the day just felt good.

Walking into the breakfast nook, he spotted his friends already seated at a table.

“Marls! Dorcas!” He greeted them warmly, giving each of them a side-hug.

Dorcas responded with a “Hey, babe!” While Marlene fixed him with a look.

“You,” she said, index finger pointing at his chest, “are absolutely glowing.”

Remus’s cheeks began to turn red, a lingering side effect of any attention whatsoever being directed towards him. His smile stayed in place though. “What, no I’m not.”

“Why do you look so happy?”

“Also,” he drew out the word, talking over Marlene, “I brought you a gift!” Remus handed over the box containing last night’s tiramisu, previously concealed by his jacket.

“Oh my god, this looks so good.” Dorcas said, eyeing the dessert.

Marlene started to close the box again when Dorcas made a noise of protest. “What?” She asked, laughing. “We have to wait until after we eat breakfast.”

“No we most certainly do not, we are adults!” Dorcas protested, and reopened the box.

Conversation flowed comfortably between the three of them, updating each other on the events of the past week. For every minute of serious conversation, there seemed to be two more of random banter, staccatoed with flicking straw wrappers and play-fighting when Dorcas or Marlene wanted to prevent the other from telling a funny story at the expense of her girlfriend. After Marlene all but tackled Dorcas to successfully pass her phone to Remus–– displaying a video of a wine-drunk Dorcas driving backwards in Mario Kart, her face dropping in shock when Marlene’s voice from behind the camera points out that she is in last place–– they got disdainfully frowned at from a tourist family and an old married couple. James would have been proud.

Eventually, Dorcas brought the conversation back to Remus’s cancelled date. “So, Marls is right, you are glowing, and I love that, but tell us about last night. You don’t seem upset about it?”

Remus shrugged. “Well, yeah, I mean it sucked waiting around for the dinner date that never happened, but if it wasn’t meant to be then there’s really no use losing sleep over it, I suppose.”

Dorcas looked mildly impressed by his answer.

“Plus, I salvaged the evening by treating myself to pizza at the Italian restaurant right by my apartment. That’s where your pre-breakfast dessert hailed from.”

Marlene looked at the now-empty to-go box in surprise. “Wow, I love how we just devoured that and didn’t even ask you where it came from. I don’t think I even said thanks?”

“Don’t worry babe, we were doing him a favor. Remus hates soggy cake.” Dorcas stated confidently.

Remus laughed. “You’re welcome,” he said, looking only at Marlene. “But yeah, I wish the waiter knew that about me. I would be totally happy with any other free dessert, but I guess tiramisu is their specialty or something.”

“Wait, hold on,” Marlene paused. “Are you saying you didn’t buy this for us? I’m withdrawing my belated thanks.”

“No, no, wait hold on, but to the other part of that sentence,” Dorcas said. “Are you saying a waiter gave you a free dessert?”

“Yeah, he kind of always does.”

“Wait, is he like, flirting with you?”

“No!” Remus said, assuredly, but his cheeks turned warm anyway.

“He gave you a free dessert. He has given you multiple free desserts? That is definitely flirting.”

Remus wanted to protest this statement, somehow, but all he could come up with was a strangled sort of noise.

Marlene seemed encouraged by his obvious embarrassment. “Oh my god, you’re going to fall in love and make babies with the help of modern science. Your baby is going to like tiramisu and be born with the personality of an old man. Half you and half waiter boy.”

“What’s his name what’s his name what’s his name,” Dorcas parroted, poking him in the arm with each question.

“Absolutely not.” Remus answered. Having already witnessed Dorcas’s impressive online stalking skills, he wasn’t about to give her a name as unique as Sirius. “Besides, uh,” his tone softened, “honestly I think he only brings me desserts because he feels sorry for me.”

Dorcas’s playful smile dropped. “Oh, Remus,” she began, “don’t sell yourself short.”

Marlene nodded with her, but mercifully changed the subject a minute later.

***

Remus shifted in his seat as his phone vibrated once, signifying an incoming text message. He was in his daily meeting with the other writers for the newspaper. They had just wrapped up the business side of the meeting, and had moved on to the fun side: presenting the best (worst?) reader comments from their online stories.

“Okay, okay, my turn,” the room quieted as Minerva spoke up. She was one of the older writers, and had been at the paper for almost ten years now. Everyone respected (and possibly feared) her, but Remus had immediately connected with her after they locked eyes during a lunch break to discover that they were both reading the newest Margaret Atwood novel and sipping Earl Grey tea. “On my article covering the shopping mall that tried to prevent breastfeeding in public, Ken M. wrote ‘aside from being completely unnecessary, breastfeeding encourages babies to objectify women.’”

The room burst into laughter, and Remus took the opportunity to subtly check his phone. Sure enough, it was Roy, the man he had been messaging for the last few days, and had even moved from Tinder’s chat platform to real texting. He smiled, but turned the phone to Do Not Disturb until the meeting was over.

“Ken M. strikes again!” Someone else announced.

“Ken M. deserves his own column, I swear.” A voice from the back of the room chimed in. “This man comments something completely ridiculous on every post. On my piece on updated bus routes he got into an argument with someone else, and I didn’t read all the comments to know how it got there, but Ken M. ended their dispute with, and I quote, ‘God is a ridiculous myth.’”

Remus laughed along with his coworkers, and took a moment to enjoy the fun banter. He loved his job for his career, but also enjoyed the little positive moments that arose from his sudden move to the big city: meeting Minerva, discovering the infamous Ken M., and laughing along with his coworkers during a meeting. His old job had been at a small newspaper where the main source of workplace laughter was Remus silently laughing at the incompetence of his coworkers, not his readers.

As the meeting ended and people began to file out of the room, he pulled out his phone. Roy told Remus he wanted to take him to his favorite restaurant on Saturday night, and Remus happily agreed to meet him in front of the Pike Place Market neon sign at 6:30. The restaurant was a short walk from there, and Remus was glad he didn’t have to awkwardly refuse getting into the car with someone he didn’t know on a first date.

I want the restaurant to be a surprise, Roy had sent, but do you have any dietary restrictions? Remus appreciated his foresight, and answered with, I’m vegetarian, but I eat pretty much anything otherwise! Remus took a moment to smile dopily after receiving a quick response: perfect.

Remus was excited for the date. Roy was very handsome, with curly blond hair, soft blue eyes, and dimples. He was also, if his profile was to be trusted, very accomplished.

***

The date was horrible. Roy kept most of the conversation centered on himself and his many achievements. Remus noticed that his eyes were actually brown, and while Remus had nothing against brown eyes, seeing as he had a pair of them himself, he couldn’t help but feel weirded out by the fact that Roy, or Gilderoy, as he referred to himself in the third person, had taken the time to edit or filter his eye color in all of his online photos.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Remus had already reminded himself over and over that it was just one date, and that even if it was disappointing, he would have a good story to tell later, and he didn’t feel unsafe at all. His friends had his phone’s location, and Dorcas had already assured him that she would “track down and throw from the Space Needle” any man who tried to harm Remus.

Remus tried to muster a polite smile as Roy told him about his obviously fabricated second meeting with Oprah, but his smile completely dropped when he read the front of his menu. They were at a steakhouse.

Their waitress approached, saving Remus from whatever monologue he was about to be subjected to. “What can I get started for you guys tonight?” She sounded bored, which Remus was willing to credit her for, as he understood working in the food industry was not exactly glamorous, but he still stupidly thought of Sirius’s excitement as he waited tables.

Roy had the nerve to try to order for Remus. Remus cut him off and appealed to the waitress. “I’m sorry, I realize you probably don’t get that many vegetarians here, but are there any vegetarian menu items?”

“You’re vegetarian?” The waitress said in surprise.

Remus didn’t expect that response, but he turned directly to Roy as he answered, “yes.”

***

An hour later, Remus was finally free of Roy. The aggravating man had offered to pay for the whole meal, with a public brandishing of his multiple credit cards, but Remus insisted they split it, just to ensure that no one thought he owed him anything. Remus wanted to never see this man again, and if that meant paying for half of a check that consisted of one expensive filet mignon and one cheap side salad, then it was well worth it.

Remus said goodbye in the midst of the Public Market, and then walked away. The last thing he wanted to do was get walked home by the insufferable man and have to listen to him, or worse, have to listen to him invite himself upstairs. As he walked home, he blocked Roy’s phone number, for good measure, and deleted the Tinder app from his phone. He dully realized that if he wanted to deactivate his account for good he would need to redownload the app first, but the symbolism felt nice in the moment.

Composure carried Remus inside his apartment building and up the stairs, but after finally locking his door behind him, he started crying. It was stupid really, and thinking that the idiot he wasted one evening with was making him cry only made him cry harder. His tears were out of frustration more than sadness.

He was frustrated that he couldn’t find a decent man on Tinder. He was frustrated that some asshole took him to a fucking steakhouse after knowing he was a vegetarian. He was frustrated because for whatever reason, he was alone on a Saturday night, again, and he very well may be alone on all future Saturday nights, because his ex-boyfriend decided that he didn’t love him anymore. What was even worse to think about, somehow, was that Remus didn’t even want his ex-boyfriend back. It would be so simple, he thought, to simply miss him, and hope that he would change his mind, and Remus could move back to his little college town and get his old job back at the small newspaper and compromise his life away. But he didn’t even want that anymore. Instead, he had to navigate the world not knowing if there was anyone that he could build a life with, all the while wasting his time on losers like Roy. And he was frustrated because he was hungry, having eaten only a small side salad for dinner.

Fueled by hunger and frustrated tears, he got up, grabbed his journal and pocketed a pen, made a halfhearted effort to wipe the tears from his face, and didn’t bother to change out of his date clothes before he headed out to go eat some comfort food.

He started crying a bit on his way to the restaurant, but it was dark outside and the anonymity of the large city granted some comfort. By the time he got to the restaurant, he was mostly calmed down, and just wanted to eat his pizza in silence, and process his emotions through writing them down in the journal he brought.

It was surprisingly busy at the restaurant for being so late on a Saturday night, and Remus took advantage of that fact to quietly slip into a booth as far away from Sirius’s normal section that he could. Remus didn’t think he would be able to keep up with Sirius’s banter, or familiarity, or free tiramisu tonight. Until he had taken the time to process his night on paper, he didn’t want to have to talk to anyone he knew. After a minute of solitude, a middle-aged waitress approached his table: success. He placed his order and went back to his journal.

As always, he started to feel better almost immediately after he started writing. Once he came to a good stopping point, he paused to look up, and drank some of the cold water the waitress had brought earlier. A few deep breaths later and he was feeling almost like a real human again.

Just then, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“Hey there.” Sirius’s voice sounded warm, as always, but slightly hesitant too.

“I brought you something, uh, I saw that your pizza just went in the oven, so it’s still going to be a few minutes.” He placed a small platter of roasted green beans to the side of Remus’s journal, and gave a tentative smile.

Remus had a quick fleeting thought of do you think I don’t eat enough vegetables? But, he realized how tasty they looked and how hungry he was. He felt his eyes water slightly as he tore his gaze from the gifted appetizer back up to Sirius.

“Do you feel sorry for me?” Remus asked, suddenly, “because I’m always alone?”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Remus was almost as surprised as he was, for having verbalized the question that had popped into his mind at the moment. He supposed he meant to say alone here, in the restaurant, because that is where Sirius sees him, but it worked in the general sense too.

“How could I feel sorry for you,” Sirius said slowly, “when you look that good, even while you’re upset.” Sirius’s confident smile crept back onto his face as he walked away.

Remus watched him in surprise, and after a few seconds Sirius turned suddenly, instantly locking eyes with Remus. Caught. Sirius winked and turned back around again.

Remus frantically texted his friends. He first had to update them on the horrible date he had gone on, and then the friendly interactions he has had with Sirius over the course of his many visits to the restaurant, and finally what Sirius just said.

Marlene: First of all, Dorcas and I are gonna find this Roy guy and kill him, probably

Marlene: Second of all, REMUS! You gave me sexy-waiter-flirtation-tiramisu! What if he had put a love potion in it or something??

James: I think I’m missing something about tiramisu… is that some kind of euphemism??

Remus updated them on the desserts that Sirius had given Remus ever since he first came to the restaurant. He also started to smile again, almost unwillingly, at his friends’ texts. He remarked how much can happen in a night: excitement about a date, frustration during said failed date, sadness afterwards, spiraling into thinking he would never date again, getting flirted with, and eventually laughing as his wonderful friends tried to cheer him up, cheer him on, and just be their wonderfully unique and crazy selves.

Lily: Remus this is a sign! I said meeting someone organically would be the best, and here we are. You’ve been getting flirted with this whole time by someone you met in person!

Dorcas: She’s right, you should totally go for it! He obviously likes you

James: Come on mate, what do you have to lose?

Remus thought for a second, before responding to his support group.

Remus: my emotional support pizza

James: what??

The group convinced him to flirt back, and Remus silenced the phone before Sirius came back with his pizza. Evidently he had taken over his table from the earlier waitress.

“And here at last, one margherita pizza. Careful, it’s pretty hot, fresh out of the oven.” Sirius fiddled with the notepad he wrote orders in after setting the pizza down. “Um, enjoy your pizza.” He turned to walk away.

“Hey,” Remus spoke up, suddenly. Sirius turned around quickly at the sound. Remus’s eyes crinkled with happy mischief. “You too.”

Sirius laughed and continued his walk back to the kitchen.

***

When Sirius brought the check, Remus carefully penned his signature and a twenty percent tip. He idled for a moment, before flipping the receipt over and writing a string of ten digits. He paused for a second again, before adding underneath in neat scrawl “should you choose not to call, we must never speak of this, because I need to be able to eat margherita pizza here on my really bad days.” On a new line underneath, he just wrote “Remus”.

***

Thirty-four minutes later, Remus received a text message from an unknown number.

“Don’t worry Remus, I would never get between a man and his pizza.”

7 notes · View notes

ravenwritesstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Best Laid Plans (8/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: I write what I want to write. Fuck. Someone take this away from me.

It had not exactly been World War Three, but it had not gone over lightly when Elsa realized exactly what Hans had managed to negotiate Rapunzel into allowing. Or not so much allowing as thinking it was the best idea - the only idea - Elsa’s idea - and that somehow she had authorized Rapunzel to clear Tuesday’s entire schedule.

Each appointment, call, and workflow had been reassigned to appropriate corresponding dates leaving the entire day clear for - well - him. What he wants, what his event calls for, and she more than slightly miffed that he still failed to truly explain just what his event - initiative - whatever - entails.

But whatever the result - Elsa should have known better than to leave the trusting Rapunzel in the room with someone with the charisma and bravado of Hans Westergaard.

Looking at the paperwork before her she is wondering just how much - well - bravado one man could have.

Staring at the zeros, written with Rapunzel’s trademark flair, on the intake form for the proposed budget is the only thing keeping Elsa from calling the entire thing off.

That and the niggling curiosity in her chest that scares her as much as it intrigues her.

She is only just now starting to realize that it has been years since she really felt - well - anything. This has been by design, and she is entirely certain that it is a mistake to indulge this, but something in her just cannot walk away.

Perhaps it is because she knows she is nearing the end of any kind of semblance of normal. That soon her life will be nothing more than phasing out of it between medical exams and palliative care. That when Anna gently presses her towards a different choice - though impossible - she secretly wishes for it.

She looks at the forms, facts, and figures on her desk and wonders if somehow this is the silver lining in this entire thing.

Thirty-nine days.

She has already started gradually removing herself from all main client contact roles, not wanting anyone to feel jilted if she needs to stop attending to their every call. Anna and even Rapunzel have stepped up to every other occasion, but this is her project.

This one is on her. Well - that is if she is to get them to where the company needs to be before she - well - leaves.

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

Everything about this is wrong.

Everything about this is right.

Both realities cannot exist without shades of gray and it has been over a decade since she has thought in such muddied terms. Black and white is easier. It makes the inevitable easier to swallow. Things either are yes or no; up or down; simple or complicated; living or dying; but never both.

That is, apparently, unless Hans Westergaard is involved.

Her heart gives an unsettling, queer beat as she reviews the calendar and the schedule Rapunzel had built for them. She has read and re-read it for what feels like the eleventh time before she finally gives up.

No.

This will not be easy. This will not be ideal, but it will hopefully be what the company needs.

She does not have time to give a second thought about what she needs. This is not the time or place. Especially when it is everything they have worked for. Especially when she will not be here much longer.

She lets her damp head rest back against her very practical office chair and almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. She wonders if her condition is what is making her want to be reckless in this moment. The doctors had not mentioned that as a possibility, but then she is an anomaly.

She has already broken all the rules.

Maybe that is why she has tried to follow them so strictly outside of her diagnosis.

That is what one of her therapists had suggested anyway. She fired them before their third meeting.

Or really she had just stopped going to prove a point.

She had ignored the calls from the office to reschedule missed appointments. She did not have time. She was not someone who was called to evolve into her highest self. She didn’t need to make peace with her diagnosis. It wouldn’t change it. So she chose to focus instead on what was right in front of her, on the here and now, while never really being in the moment.

It is easier to ignore the inevitable if she doesn’t have it shoved in her face for an hour every week.

She does not have time for that. She was not going to make it that far enough to make time for that.

So she moved on to a therapist who just listens, nods, and gives her what she needs for her nerves - her lack of sleep - her restlessness.

She is not looking to be healed. She knows she is beyond that . Still: she opens her eyes and looks at the project before her and feels - for the first time in forever - a spark of something.

She will never admit it, not even to herself, but the feeling in her chest is something all too similar to hope and she cannot have any of that.

She pushes that sensation down and focuses on what she always has: the practical.

Like how in the hell is she supposed to prepare for a meeting she doesn’t want with a man she cannot afford to get close to when that is exactly what she must do?

She crosses her arms on the desk in front of her and plops her forehead down with a groan.

She is going to regret this - already does. She supposes the only unanswered thing about this that matters is just how much she will regret this in the end.

….

She does not lose sleep over the event, the meeting. At least no more than she normally would before a big meeting.

No.

She is too sensible for that (plus she took a sleeping pill at the absolute last minute before it would leave her sick and groggy the next day). She knows she needs to be sharp, well rested, and on high alert through this entire day. You don’t go into a battle without your wits fully in tact and she has been mentally girding herself ever since she gave Rapunzel the okay to send over the approval of terms and preliminary proposal with room for addendum.

He sends back an address and a time, but not to Rapunzel’s email. He texts it to her personal phone again and Elsa is quickly realizing that fighting this particular part of this game will be a loss. She needs to laser focused on the battles that matter - the battle at hand.

She is holding her armor tight as they all pull into the marina’s general parking lot in Anna’s car, trying to convince herself that her stomach is not in knots. Even though it is.

Her mind races with possibilities of what this day could entail, trying to plan for any outcome, but there are too many trajectories and not enough information. She can figure most likely scenarios but nothing so far has been most likely when it came to this entire situation so she must keep herself vigilant. She cannot let herself slip even a fraction of an inch or she knows she will regret it.

Mister Westergaard had told Rapunzel to clear the entire day - to make sure they came prepared for a day of sea and sun - and Elsa wasn’t quite sure how to take that. So she came in a sensible wrap dress in her traditional navy and flats. In her bag she also packed swim attire with a cover that could also double for any of her standard dresses. She is not taking any chances.

She had briefed her staff on the seriousness of this meeting - even though she did not need to. She knew they would exhibit absolute professionalism like they always did, but she also knows that Hans Westergaard is a different type of beast than their usual. Only the main staff comes: herself, Kristoff, Anna, Rapunzel, and Eugene. Pascal and Sven, interns, had stayed behind to man the office. Her trust in them was the only reason that she even considered leaving the office today with other projects on the line. She trusts them, but….

Still there were so many ways this could go wrong.

Not because of her trust in them but more so the need to prove that she is not afraid of anything this Hans Westergaard can bring against her.

She has the mounting dread of a feeling that she is not only building her own coffin, but nailing it shut.

Rapunzel could not elaborate on what may be considered appropriate for this all day meeting so she had the perky brunette call his contact number for clarification. He did not answer, but Elsa listened to the message - but a single text from him to her personal phone (she really needs to get Rapunzel to stop giving out her personal number) gives her just enough foresight to warn them all to be prepared.

I hate spoiling surprises but come prepared to get wet.

He had texted with the address to the marina and a berth number. She had blushed at what she hoped was unintentional innuendo.

In order to best serve you and keep your event professional please contact me on my office line only.

She had replied with the contact that she knows he already has. But he had not used it and she has a feeling that he probably never will outside of that first call he made to her office, not when he knows where to find her in a way that feels just a little too close. A little too intimate. A little too raw. Just like that dance that never should have happen, never should have become two, never -

She shakes her head, ears burning in embarrassment of how far she had let that go. She will not be making that mistake again. She can run this event, elevate her company, and stay unattached even if the butterflies in her stomach are working hard enough to lift her up off the ground at the moment.

Her group does not seem to notice, however. Nor had any of them lifted an eyebrow when she had instructed them to dress expensive business casual but to also pack swim attire and accouterments. Perhaps it is because their destination includes the marina and a berth. She prefers to entertain that idea as opposed to the concept that they are placating her, giving her space, not asking questions because she seems fragile in any way. That is something she simply cannot abide.

She should have had Rapunzel call, ask clarifying questions, taken control like she would have with any other client, but she had not. She had not and she is not prepared to follow through the logic that if she had failed to respond to this like she would for any other client that perhaps he is not just another -

Elsa’s thoughts and steps slow as they approach their destination.

She has been on boats. She has been on yachts. But if what she is looking at is the boat they will sail on that day - it takes everything within herself to not drop her jaw to the floor.

It does not look quite like any other ship she has seen. There are no sails or anything of the like, but there are three levels of windows curving along an immaculate white bough. The bow is almost needle shaped, long and contoured to an exact point beyond any cabin that gives it the looks of a swordfish, or dolphin, or any of those more majestic water bound creatures. The shape, the arch of the body, the way it rises from the water - it is exceptional from stem to stern. She can tell from the design that it is built to be large, and to show it.

This, she knows, is a ship built to impress people.

Did that mean Mister Westergaard was trying to impress them? Or maybe just intimidate.

Her sweaty palm tightens on the attache case containing their more formal documents, her heavy duty tablet.

She had finished them the day before after devoting the whole of her energy to them. She had them sent over by three but had not heard anything about the few gaps she needed filled before she felt comfortable moving forward formally. Perhaps he wants to negotiate in person. For the money he is willing to pay she is more than happy to go over everything in person, or at least she would be if he wasn’t completely capable of robbing her of almost every shred of common sense she possessed.

But even if he had not signed anything yet, neither had she - her company. If this day proved too much, too disagreeable, there was nothing to keep up the facade.

Still she is sure that if she just focuses she can get what she needs from him and nothing else. The challenge of drawing up the proposition she had sent him, of rustling vendors and calling in favors, orchestrating a careful network of details and factors and creating the perfect documents for this event had given her a thrill. She knew he would not understand, appreciate, all it took to put together a proposal like this. How could he? He was a privileged son of a man of unimaginable wealth. He had no need to work, to strive, to fear.

The initiative, or so he called it, seemed a pet project that the wealthy elite all had. His was ocean related and that made sense considering his love of sailing. Though Mister Westergaard had been short on details of exactly what this all entailed Elsa had still managed to come up with what she felt was a perfect framework for a successful soiree. It was fluid, adaptable, and when she got the rest of the details down in writing, allowing her to draw up the final paperwork and followed by his signature… well. Just focusing on what that meant for her sister, their friends, the company was enough to put aside the tight braid of apprehension winding down her spine at the logistics of what that meant from a practical perspective.

Once the ink dried that meant she would be bound to him for thirty eight days. Thirty eight days of closely working alongside him, communicating with him. If she is lucky he will be uninterested in attending vendor meetings, that he will trust her judgement and simply allow her to select what she feels is best as many of her clients do. After all - that is why they pay. They don't want to invest the time or effort into each minutia that came with an event of any size, but she thrived within it. Would she be able to do so with Hans Westergaard thrown into the mix?

But she'll think about that tomorrow. Right now all she can think about is putting one foot in front of the other until they are at the gangplank.

She isn’t sure when Anna comes up alongside her and loops an arm through hers, but she realizes it is there when Anna squeezes it with her own.

“You okay?” Her sister’s voice is low and Elsa gives a tense nod.

“Of course,” she replies. “I’m - I’m just fine.”

She stumbles a bit as Mister Westergaard appears at the top of the gangplank. He is in fitted khakis and boat shoes with a navy sweater pulled over a crisp collared shirt. His hair styled back with its natural wave and his smile broad as he waves them up from his place at the top of the long, metal-railed ramp. Anna’s grip tightens.

“Come aboard!” He calls, keen green eyes flashing to each person in their party. Though she could not prove it she feels like his gaze lingers on her just a fraction longer than the others.

She quickly shakes the thought.

Paranoia will not help her focus on her mission.

She shrugs off Anna’s supporting arm. It will not do to seem like she needs help, that she is weak in any way. She pulls her shoulders up and back as she strides up the gangplank to meet their host.

“Mister Westergaard,” she crosses her attache case in front of her body, lasering into his gaze with more force than necessary. “Thank you for having us. We have many aspects of the event to cover. Should we get started?”

His smile does not falter.

“Of course we should,” he cradles her elbow (thankfully covered by the extra billowing length of her sleeve) to pivot her so the rest of her party can finish their ascent. “But first we need to attend the briefing from the crew. We will be pushing off soon.”

He drops his touch as soon as he had started it, attention moving to Anna and the rest and leaving her flummoxed. Pushing off? She knows they are on a boat but that meant…

He continues without dropping a beat, addressing the whole of his guests. “We will be setting sail in the next ten minutes. The crew will brief you on the safety functions of the vessel on the aft.”

The group hesitates, at least slightly perplexed, and Elsa knows she is not the only one who not as apt at ship terminology as she might be. They weren’t the types to sail regularly, but Mister Westergaard seems to note his mistake with equal speed. His smile broadens as he gestures behind himself to the sleek walkway that edges the ship.

“You will have to excuse me. I’ve spent more time on ship than on land lately and developed certain habits. This way place,” and there is a silent, collective breath of relief at his gracious response.

Somewhere in the depth of her heart she cannot help but wonder if this was some sort of test that she had failed. Or if he had staged the entire thing to make himself seem like some sort of savior, like somehow he would deliver these Cretans to their designated location by his own benevolence and -

“May I have the honor of escorting you?” he offers his arm and she flashes to the deeply slow stroll up the walk to the wedding venue. She remembers the heat of his touch, the conversation, and while she is not interested in actively offending him:

“The passageway is a bit narrow, don’t you think?” She keeps her tone professional, the butterflies in her stomach pressed down. “Why don’t you go ahead and lead us?”

His eyes flash and she is not quite sure what it means but he makes no moves to press the issue. Instead he lifts his gaze from her and addresses the entire group:

“Of course," his smile wolfish, like she just set the tone for the day - like he anticipated it. "This way. Follow me!”

They do.

Elsa lags a bit, letting Anna and Kristoff take the lead and falling back with Rapunzel and Eugene. In the middle of the pack she feels a bit more secure, a bit less like she is walking into a trap, but then he looks over his shoulder and winks at her and she is back to the wedding with sweating palms and shaking knees.

She considers his smile, his heat, the curve of his brow and - no.

That was not why she was here.

This is business, just business. She had made that clear, but as they reach where the walkway opens to a spectacular seating area complete with firepit all those zeroes on the proposal invoice she knows this is nothing like the business they have done up to this point.

It doesn’t even feel like she is on a boat.

There is plush furniture, all royal blue with stainless steel and arranged in a horseshoe that takes advantage of the ocean view. A marble and metal coffee table that she swears is as big as the kitchen in her studio apartment is decorated with a planter holding a dozen white iris in perfect bloom and a spread of finger foods that rival Tiana’s inventions.

Her stomach cramps even as her mouth waters. She has hardly eaten, but given her inexperience on a boat she hardly thinks it prudent to indulge in case sea voyage doesn’t agree with her.

She looks past the food and the seating arrangement she is certain they will fill briefly, out beyond the shadowed overhang of the upper deck they are beneath, and there are half a dozen white loungers surrounding a sunken pool. The railing alongside the ship falls off beyond the pool and at this angle she knows when they are at sea that it will seem as if the pool could continue right into the ocean, an endless pool of blue.

The sight rattles something inside of her. The visual somehow mirrors an intangible understanding she has for what is about to happen. The idea that this may seem like it can go on forever but she knows that cannot be true. Nothing lasts forever.

Mister Westergaard ushers them to sit. She goes, noting the finely polished blonde wood planks beneath her feet. She positions herself at the end of one of the furniture pieces facing away from the unsettling infinity pool and looks up for her sister in hopes to have her sit beside her but she is not quick enough.

Mister Westergaard settles himself next to her just close enough to be disconcerting, but clearly with no room for anyone to sit between them. He isn’t touching, not even in the slightest. He doesn’t even look her way when he sits and that somehow makes it worse. His legs spread wide, his back straight as he leans forward onto his elbows as if he is ready to pounce on any unsuspecting passer, but not giving her the slightest attention.

She knows he is playing some sort of game, but he keeps changing the rules. She does not appreciate it and she pulls her case up onto her lap to insure the forced distance. Whatever he is playing she will not join.

But she will set some rules of her own.

She tries to not sit too straight, to lean too hard against her armrest away from him, to too obviously look anywhere but him as she takes in the surroundings. She tries to focus on the expectation that if this is the informal lounge area on his yacht just how lavish the expectations will be on this event. How there are only thirty eight days to pull off something even grander than this. How there cannot be any mistake.

It simultaneously excites and terrifies her.

She thinks of all the connections this will yield, how it will catapult E&A Events into the stratosphere if they do it right. An event for people of this caliber is not a challenge to take on lightly but she knows she is up to the task. She is built for things like this, has set up E&A events for success long after she is gone if they decide to go on. This is simply the next step.

Hans Westergaard is the next step.

It is easier to think of him in this way, so she does.

Not more than a few seconds have passed since they say before a trim crew member appears from what she assumes to be a luxurious space inside, but is denied a glance by the reflective glass. The crewmember starts going through the basics of the ship’s safety protocol. Elsa remembers one of the few times she had been on a plane where the flight attendant had pointed with two fingers towards doors that Elsa hoped she would never use, but she had memorized every step regardless.

It never hurt to be prepared.

As the crew demonstrates proper life vest procedures and what to do in case of some unprecedented catastrophe she feels him lean in closer.

“If the ship went down, why do I feel like you wouldn’t flinch?” She can feel his breath tickling the shell of her ear.

She keeps her gaze focused on the crew, but turns just enough to send her words directly to him and not the rest of the group. “I won’t have to flinch. I’ll know what to do because I was able to pay attention to this presentation.”

He breathes a laugh. She feels it down her neck, entire body heating without objection. She doesn’t dare look to see if the others notice, if he is nearly as close as she thinks he may be. When he is silent for a moment she thinks that he might be done, that he has returned to an appropriate distance and she almost chances a glance. She is glad she does not because she feels it almost as much as she hears it:

“But what if you needed saving? Who would you want to come to your rescue?”

She is certain he is even closer than before now, the heat of his body bleeding into her side without even touching and she remembers what it is to touch him. She remembers how the very touch of him burns down her defenses, but what she hadn’t counted on were his words, the probing questions that always caught her off guard.

Even though she hardly knows him she knows if she looks his way she will see that same heartfelt sincerity that has undone her from the start.

She watches as a robotic crew member straps a lifesaver onto their chest. There is a flirtatious way to approach this, to stroke his ego, to make things go more smoothly but the stage has been set. She has no time to spare for such frivolity and honestly no idea how to even go about it. So instead she tightens her spine, pulls her jaw tight, and never once diverts her eyes towards him.

“I’m not the type that gets saved,” she speaks the language of strange half-truths she has grown accustomed to in her condition before letting the darkness bleed through. “I go down with the ship.”

She senses the change in him at that statement, the distance increasing between them even if he had not moved an inch, but there is no victory in it. There is only an all too familiar hollow feeling that she fights all too often.

Then, strangely despite the distance, she feels him closer still.

His shoulder touches hers and even through their respective clothes the heat of him creeps through. Her heart rate accelerates. She thought she had done her job but apparently…

“I’d save you,” his voice is low, tight and tickling. “I’d save you if it was the last thing I did.”

Her mouth goes dry at the conviction of his short speech, at the way her heart races at his words, but not because she is uncomfortable. No. It is worse than that. It is because she believes him - this near stranger.

The crew member is saying something she is sure is important, but she cannot hear it. She cannot focus beyond her own breath filling her chest, rasping in her ear. She wants to trust those words, to lean into them, but she cannot. It would be unfair for them both. So with every last ounce of will that hadn’t been scorched by his proximity she musters her courage and:

“You cannot save me, Mister Westergaard.”

The words taste bitter in her mouth without context, but she is certain the surprise she senses is real.

It feels good to catch him off guard, to let him be off balance for once. She revels in it, but not for long.

He does not move a fraction. She would have felt it, known it, all of her senses heightened towards him. Still his next words break upon the shore of her mind with relentless regularity.

“Hans,” there is something raw, low, in the way he speaks that nearly hurts. “My name is Hans, and when I save you that is what you will call me.”

[ previous ] [ next ]

#Best Laid Plans #Helsa #IceBurns #Kristanna #eugene x rapunzel #Rapunzel #Euguene #frozen #Tangled #I like messed up shit okay #Raven Writes Stuff

24 notes · View notes

krisroley · 4 years ago

Text

February 9th, 2021

One Small Moment

Today I want to talk to some specific friends who I won't name, but I'm fairly sure that this will apply to way more of just them.

First things first, I'm not going to insult your intelligence by giving you a bunch of platitudes. In my experience, they're nothing but empty calories. Filler and no substance, they're designed to make the person giving them feel better, not the person who needs help. In some cases, people who need help end up feeling worse. I'm one of those people, so I absolutely understand the feeling. So, no bullshit from me. Cool? Moving on.

Let me describe my lack of bona fides right upfront. I'm a guy with a high school education and one year of college because I let my dick do the thinking up to the point that I ended up homeless and friendless. I tried to follow in my Dad's footsteps and join the military and washed right out after six months because I have a mouth bigger than my brain. I come from a family that describing as dysfunctional is exceedingly generous. My dad had anger issues, my mother was a narcissist manipulator, as is my brother. He's got a criminal record and is probably on his way back to prison for at least 12 years as I write this. I'm the voice of reason in my family, and as I have said repeatedly, this should scare the fuck out of you. I got married at 24, and I had three kids by the age of 30. I've been dirt poor most of that time. At this stage of my life, I believe that I am an undiagnosed case of autism from the 1970s because my kids--all of them--are on the spectrum. I didn't have a bad childhood if you looked at it from one angle, but I had a horrible one if you looked at it from the inside out. I inherited my Dad's anger issues and my mother's narcissism. I was a horrible husband for years until my wife walked out on me in 2005. It made me face myself in a way I had not seen before, and I couldn't take it. I had a nervous breakdown. My wife thought I was worth saving, and I am forever grateful for it. I promised I would work on my issues, and I have. Three times in my life, I thought I was at the end of my rope. Not from a thought of suicide ideation, just that there was nowhere else to turn. No one else to ask for help. No one else I could lean on. Just Roley.

That moment right there is the point. The entire lesson. One small moment when your brain says, "Well, you're really fucked now, aren't you?" There is only one answer to that question, and that answer is yes because if you answer no, you ain't there yet. Trust me on this. You have to answer yes. This is the moment where you're accountable to no one but you, and you cannot lie to yourself. You can TRY. It ain't gonna work. Not for long.

Let's not bullshit ourselves. There is a lot of work in repairing a life that you fucked up on your own. You climb up out of a hole for years before you ever see daylight. I was a shut-in for two years because I thought it better that the world forgets about me. I tried to make a living from home in 2006-2007, but this world we live in hadn't come to pass yet, and I was living a fantasy. It made me feel worse that I couldn't provide for my family, but I could barely function as a human at that point. So I decided to do the only work I was capable of: Working on myself. I read every self-help book and mental health book I could lay my hands on. I dug deep into myself to try to figure out why I was the person I was, how I became that way, and the answer was straightforward. First, I thought I was absolutely normal. My behavior, though abhorrent, was how I was raised. My parents treated each other and us kids horribly, but it wasn't physically abusive save for a couple of times I'll keep to myself. I grew up in the same environment I perpetuated. I was continuing a cycle. Secondly, to accept that fact and to change meant work I wasn't ready to take on. But human psychology is a lot like a car in that regard; you can do the work now, or you can do it later, but it's going to cost you a lot more. In my case, it almost cost me everything. It was the third of those three times that I faced myself in the mirror and heard that voice, and this was the time I said yes.

For two-thirds of my life, my story is a story of failure, of self-hatred, of being a bad example. But from the age of 35 to 50, it's a story of repair and redemption. I'll put my humble path to today up against anyone's and dare them to do the work I've done to heal myself and come out who I am today. I'm still married to the same woman for over 25 years now. I've got three amazing kids who I adore. Up until May of this year, I had what I consider to be a dream job until COVID ate it, but I'm still with the same company, and I'm going to bust whatever amount of ass it takes to get my job back or demonstrate the skills I learned there to someone else who's willing to take me. I have a sense of self-worth and purpose that I've never had before, and I'm not taking being a call center tech support agent for the rest of my life. It is a means to an end, and it is not my life's work. I know what that is. It's helping you in the best way I know how: By being not the example of how to fix it, but from showing you by my example, it CAN BE FIXED that you can go from being a person full of anger and self-loathing and cruel behavior to being a person of kindness and compassion and love for people. That you can go from being a person who has no prospects to a person who can go to a job every day that fulfills them personally and professionally. That you can go from being a person who hasn't got their shit together at all to a person that can get morning to night without falling apart at the seams. This is my road, and my lane, but it's big enough for you, and I want you on this road with me. Some of you are gifted and talented beyond description, but the world doesn't know it yet because you have these problems. I know. I get it. I also see who you are, and the world deserves to see you as well. I had no one else to turn to at that last moment, so I did what I had to do. Myself. I'm asking you to take a walk with me because I don't want you to have to do it on your own. I may not know your way home, but I can get you as far as Anchorhead. You can get transport there to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going.

I had to get one joke in there somehow.

Did Joe Know About This?

On the heels of the news of Joe Budden maybe-kinda-sorta-moving his show to Patreon (which is weird since it looks like it’s being hosted on Libsyn now), Spotify has announced plans for multiple business models for podcasts, possibly to include ad-supported subscriptions and a la carte options. These may be discussed at a live stream event later in February.

Asked if Spotify thought customers would be willing to pay for podcasts, Ek on the earnings call responded that he believed there were several new models that could be explored.

“I think we’re in the early days of seeing the long-term evolvement of how we can monetize audio on the internet. I’ve said this before, but I don’t believe that it’s a one-size-fits-all,” he said. “I believe, in fact, that we will have all business models, and that’s the future for all media companies — that you will have ad-supported subscriptions and à la carte sort of in the same space, of all media companies in the future.”

“And you should definitely expect Spotify to follow that strategy and that pattern,” Ek added, more definitively.

The answer seemed to indicate that Spotify is considering some of the ideas in that recent survey — of getting consumers to pay for some podcasts, instead of accessing them all for free or having them bundled into their music subscription.

I wonder if Budden was aware of this and balked. Would there be a revenue split between Spotify and the creators, and what’s the ratio? Now that I think of it, isn’t that what they’ve been crying about re: Apple?

For more than a year, Spotify has been making noise about Apple’s unchecked power over the App Store, and in March 2019, it filed a complaint against Apple with the European Commission. Spotify claims Apple’s practice of taking 30 percent of an app’s revenue is unjustified, and says the company operates as a monopoly on iOS.

Suddenly, I find this Budden/Spotify deal more intriguing.

Wait, You Can Make Money Doing That?

Julie Miller from Vanity Fair writes about Hollywood coming over to the Pod Side for ‘fun and profit’:

…entertainment types began orbiting the audio space about two years ago in earnest, as the number of Americans listening to podcasts every month headed toward the 100 million it is today. It was also around 2018 that agencies like CAA began incorporating audio deals into their development packages. One insider estimates that many celebrities could get a six-figure guarantee per year, with the biggest actors receiving between $1 million and $3 million to launch an unscripted podcast. Scripted projects offer less up-front money but can be adapted into TV shows, films, books, and so on.

For the record, I am Steve Jobs, “Podcasts are Amateur Hour" Years Old. For years, podcasting was seen as less-than, so when I see stories like this, the little imp of the perverse in the back of my head tosses a bone at every true media elitist who, strangely, has a podcast now..

How About Not Doing That?

Chris Curran over at PES has a question about your thin mouth:

When I’m doing my fine-tuned editing on a podcast episode I use TwistedWave or Sound Forge because they allow me to VERY QUICKLY zoom in, highlight very small things like single mouthclicks, and delete them.

When I try to make the same kind of edit in a DAW (Reaper and others) it takes forever.

What say you?

For the most part, my workflow tends to remove mouth clicks, or at the very least minimize them. If they still show up through my noise gate, I highlight and remove them. I can’t say this happens often because I like to make sure I keep some water near me while I’m recording. The single biggest thing you can do to prevent mouth clicks is to keep hydrated. Remember, you can’t fix it in Post if it never happens in the first place.

Shot Of The Day

#Joe Budden #Spotify #Monetization #Podcasts #Hollywood #Vanity Fair #Julie Miller #Podcast Engineering School #Mouthclicks #PES

1 note · View note

mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

Text

Pluralistic: 26 Mar 2020 (EFF's videoconferencing backgrounds, the ideology of economics, LoC plugs Little Brother, Canada nationalizes covid patents, Exponential Thread, Sanders on GOP stimulus cruelty, record wind power growth, social distancing and other diseases, Badger Masks)

Today's links

EFF's videoconferencing backgrounds: With a deep cut from the NSA's secret listening post.

The ideology of economics: Economics doesn't have "laws" it has "policies."

LoC plugs Little Brother: Open access FTW.

Canada nationalizes covid patents: An Act respecting certain measures in response to COVID-19.

Exponential Threat: Trump threatened to sue media outlets that aired this spot.

Sanders on GOP stimulus cruelty: "Millions for plutes, but not one cent for workers."

Record wind-power growth: Covid stimulus could start a Green New Deal.

Social distancing and other diseases: Do we trust IoT thermometer companies, though?

Badger Masks: UW Madison's open facemask design.

This day in history: 2005, 2010, 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, upcoming appearances, current writing projects, current reading

EFF's videoconferencing backgrounds (permalink)

Telework is a quiet reminder that we live, in some sense, in an age of wonders. As terrible as lockdown is, imagine it without any way to videoconference with your peers and colleagues.

But it's also a moment where we tremble on the precipice of cyberpunk dystopia, when calls for mass surveillance – both for epidemiology and stabilizing states that are bruised and reeling – meet a world where everything is online and amenable to "collection" by spooks.

This is, basically, the moment that EFF has been warning about for 30 years: the moment when the "digital world" and the "real world" fully merge, and where the distinction between "tech policy" and "policy" dissolves.

One way you can help keep this in your colleagues' minds is to use EFF's amazing, free/open graphics as your videoconferencing background (most of these are the creation of the brilliant Hugh D'Andrade).

Now, those are all great, but this one is Room 641A at AT&T's Folsom Street center, where the whistleblower Mark Klein was ordered to build a secret room so the NSA could illegally spy on all US internet traffic.

The ideology of economics (permalink)

Thomas Piketty's "Capital in the 21st Century" advanced a simple, data-supported hypothesis: that markets left to their own will cause capital to grow faster than the economy as a whole, so over time, the rich always get richer.

https://boingboing.net/2014/06/24/thomas-pikettys-capital-in-t.html

He's followed up Capital with the 1000-page "Capital and Ideology" – whose thesis is that the "laws" of economics are actually policies, created to "justify a society's inequalities," providing a rationale to convince poor people not to start building guillotines.

The first ideology of capital was the "trifunctional" system of monarchist France, dividing society into "those who pray," "those who fight," and "those who work."

After the French revolution, we enter the capitalist phase, then social democracies, and now, "meritocracies."

"Meritocracies" invest markets with the mystical power to identify and elevate the worthy, in a kind of tautology: those who have the most are worth the most. You can tell they're worth the most because they have the most.

("That makes me smart" -D. Trump)

In Piketty's conception, "Inequality is neither economic nor technological. It's ideological and political," where "ideology" "refers to a set of a priori plausible ideas describing how society should be structured" (think: Overton Window).

https://bostonreview.net/class-inequality/marshall-steinbaum-thomas-piketty-takes-ideology-inequality

The major part of the book seeks to explain how the post-war social democracies gave way to the grifter meritocracies of today, pulling together threads from across the whole world to tell the tale.

On the way, he described alternatives that were obliterated, and others that were never tried, and shows how "meritocracy" gave us Trump, xenophobia, Brexit, and the Current Situation.

In particular, he's interested in why working class people stopped voting (spoiler: they no longer perceive that elites will pay attention to them irrespective of how they vote) — and what it would take to mobilize them again.

The elites' indifference to working people is grounded in an alliance between the Brahmin Left (educated, well-paid liberals) and the Merchant Right (the finance sector). Notionally leftist parties, like the Democrats, are dominated by the Brahmin Left.

But more than any other, Macron epitomizes this alliance: proclaiming his liberal values while slashing taxes on the wealthy — punishing poor people for driving cars, exempting private jets from his "climate" bill.

Life in a "meritocracy" is especially cruel for poor people, because meritocracies, uniquely among ideologies, blame poor people for poverty. It's right there in the name. French kings didn't think God was punishing peons, rather, that the Lord had put them there to serve.

"The broadly social-democratic redistributive coalitions of the mid-twentieth century were not just electoral or institutional or party coalitions but also intellectual and ideological. The battle was fought and won above all on the battleground of ideas."

As Marshall Steinbaum writes in his excellent review, Piketty's work doesn't just highlight new ideas in economics: it highlights the intellectual poverty of the economics profession and its tunnel vision.

"Economists cannot be allowed to be the arbiters of the intensely political concerns Piketty takes up in the book, and the good news is that there is reason to believe they won't be."

LoC plugs Little Brother (permalink)

Honored and pleased to have my book Little Brother included on the Library of Congress's excellent collection of open-access ebooks in its collection, which you can always access gratis but which may be of especial interest during the lockdown.

https://blogs.loc.gov/thesignal/2020/03/more-open-ebooks-routinizing-open-access-ebook-workflows/

If you enjoyed Little Brother and its sequel Homeland, you might be interested in the third Little Brother book, Attack Surface, which Tor is publishing on Oct 12.

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

If you're looking for more topical reading, Infodocket's carefully curated list of coronavirus resources is here for you:

https://www.infodocket.com/2020/01/31/2019-novel-coronavirus-resources/

Canada nationalizes covid patents (permalink)

Canada's Parliament has passed Bill C13, "An Act respecting certain measures in response to COVID-19," amending patent law to create automatic compulsory licenses for any inventionused to fight covid, including diagnostics, vaccines, therapies or PPE.

https://www.parl.ca/DocumentViewer/en/43-1/bill/C-13/third-reading

As E Richard Gold writes, it's an "important signal that Canada will not support IP delays…While most firms are helping find solutions, this will prevent those who try to take advantage-by raising prices or limiting supply-or those who cannot deliver to block what is needed."

Exponential Threat (permalink)

"Exponential Threat" is a remarkable – and factual – political ad, one that contrasts Trump's statements on coronavirus with the spread of the disease in America.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkMwvmJLnc0

More remarkable: Trump has threatened to sue the media for airing it, which is a totally cool and normal thing for someone who has sworn a solemn oath to uphold the Constitution and the Bill of Rights to do.

https://assets.donaldjtrump.com/2017/web/hero_images/Redacted_PUSA_Letter.pdf

"In case you needed more, here's an (admittedly incomplete) list of Trump statements on the novel coronavirus and COID-19"

http://www.joeydevilla.com/2020/03/25/exponential-threat-the-covid-19-themed-ad-that-the-trump-pence-campaign-doesnt-want-you-to-see/

Jan. 22: "We have it totally under control. It's one person coming in from China."

Feb. 2: "We pretty much shut it down coming in from China. It's going to be fine."

Feb. 25: "CDC & my administration are doing a GREAT job of handling Coronavirus."

Feb. 25: "I think that's a problem that's going to go away. They have studied it. They know very much. In fact, we're very close to a vaccine." [White House | New York Post]

Feb. 26: "We're going very substantially down, not up."

Feb. 27: "One day it's like a miracle, it will disappear."

Feb. 28: "We're ordering a lot of supplies. We're ordering a lot of, uh, elements that frankly we wouldn't be ordering unless it was something like this. But we're ordering a lot of different elements of medical."

March 2: "You take a solid flu vaccine, you don't think that could have an impact, or much of an impact, on corona?"

March 2: "A lot of things are happening, a lot of very exciting things are happening and they're happening very rapidly."

March 4: "If we have thousands of people that get better just by, you know, sitting around and even going to work – some of them go to work, but they get better."

March 5: "I never said people that are feeling sick should go to work."

March 6: "I think we're doing a really good job in this country at keeping it down… a tremendous job at keeping it down."

March 6: "Anybody right now, and yesterday, anybody that needs a test gets a test. And the tests are beautiful. They are perfect just like the letter was perfect. The transcription was perfect. Right? This was not as perfect as that but pretty good."

March 6: "I like this stuff. I really get it. People are surprised that I understand it. Every one of these doctors said, 'How do you know so much about this?' Maybe I have a natural ability. Maybe I should have done that instead of running for president."

March 6: "I don't need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn't our fault."

March 8: "We have a perfectly coordinated and fine tuned plan at the White House for our attack on Coronavirus."

March 9: "The Fake News media & their partner, the Democrat Party, is doing everything within its semi-considerable power to inflame the Coronavirus situation."

March 10: "It will go away. Just stay calm. It will go away."

March 13: National Emergency Declaration.

March 17: "I felt it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic."

Sanders on GOP stimulus cruelty (permalink)

This Bernie Sanders floor speech in the Senate on the GOP's relentless attempts to punish poor people in the covid relief package is a must-watch

https://www.reddit.com/r/SandersForPresident/comments/fp3my0/bernie_goes_full_sanders_on_the_republicans_for/

tldr: GOP Senators are freaking out because some people in line to get the pittances they're doling out actually earn EVEN LESS than $1k-2k/month, and so they might get a raise in the form of covid relief.

That is, rather than taking the fact that this bare-minimum subsidy package exceeds "normal" income as a wakeup call to raise the minimum wage for the first time since 2009, the GOP is calling for cuts to aid to the most vulnerable Americans.

As Sanders points out, these same Senators had no problem with the Tax Scam, which poured trillions into the accounts of the richest Americans, directly and indirectly through stock-buybacks, which also left US business vulnerable and in need of trillions more today.

Now those bailed-out plutes want workers to risk death to "restart the economy," and the GOP will ensure they'll starve if they don't.

As ever, The Onion nails it:

https://politics.theonion.com/gop-urges-end-of-quarantine-for-lifeless-bipedal-automa-1842461351

"GOP Urges End Of Quarantine For Lifeless Bipedal Automatons That Make Economy Go"

Record wind-power growth (permalink)

As the world's wind-generation capacity increases, you'd expect annual growth to fall proportionately (it's easier to double a very small number than a very big one!), but this year should see the largest proportional growth ever, a 20% increase!

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/mar/25/worlds-wind-power-capacity-up-by-fifth-after-record-year

That number is uncertain (hello, coronavirus), but on the other hand, there's a massive stimulus package in the offing that could be used to restart the economy by saving the planet with renewable energy.

The non-adjusted, pre-virus projection for this year's total growth in wind power was an additional 76GW (to meet climate projections, that number has to rise to 100GW/year, and then to 200GW/year).

Social distancing and other diseases (permalink)

Though the evidence is a little shaky, it appears that social distancing has dramatically reduced the spread of other infectious diseases, like flu.

https://qz.com/1824020/social-distancing-slowing-not-only-covid-19-but-other-diseases-too/

The data comes from an Internet of Shit "connected thermometer" company that (allegedly) anonymizes its data and uses it for health surveillance; they report a massive drop-off in high temps relative to other years and pre-distancing levels.

The claims are plausible, but they're also an ad for an IoT company that sells a product no one needs, so take them with a grain of salt.

I'd be interested in STI transmission after weeks/months of government-recommended masturbation-over-hookups:

https://www1.nyc.gov/assets/doh/downloads/pdf/imm/covid-sex-guidance.pdf

Badger Masks (permalink)

A local hospital asked researchers at the UW Madison Engineering Design Innovation Lab to design them a field-expedient face-shield that could be mass-manufactured to protect its staff from coming cases.

https://www.wired.com/story/tinkerers-created-face-shield-being-used-hospitals/

Using hardware-store parts, the UW makerspace, and teleconferencing with self-isolating collaborators, the team designed an excellent mask, the Badger Shield:

https://making.engr.wisc.edu/shield/

They've manufactured and delivered 1,000 Badger Masks to the hospital and a Ford plant in MI is making 75,000 more this week for Detroit-area hospitals. Here's a technical spec you can follow if you have access to equipment and parts:

https://www.delve.com/assets/documents/OPEN-SOURCE-FACE-SHIELD-DRAWING-v1.PDF

It involves just 3 pieces: polyethylene sheets (laser- or die-cut), an elastic headband, and a 1" thick strip of self-adhesive polyurethane foam. For initial production, Midwest Prototyping used office-supply-store electric staplers for assembly.

The design process started with a teardown of an existing, approved mask, and the project lead, Lennon Rodgers, worked with collaborators to replicate it, sanity-checking successive designs with his wife, an anaesthesiologist.

They started hand-delivering prototypes to the hospital, who refined the design further, swapping in latex-free elastic and lengthening the shield. Tim Osswald from UW used his polymer engineering expertise to find a supplier who could create a custom die.

Now, more than 1M Badger Masks have been sought, with manufacturers like St Paul's Summit Medical tooling up to meet demand.

Other designs are popping up across America. San Francisco's Exploratorium is making 200+ shields/day using its own makerspace.

This day in history (permalink)

#15yrsago If the Constitution was a EULA https://web.archive.org/web/20050330012000/http://slate.msn.com/id/2115254/

#10yrsgo Discarded photocopier hard drives stuffed full of corporate secrets https://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2010/03/18/hightech_copy_machines_a_gold_mine_for_data_thieves.html

#5yrsago TPP leak: states give companies the right to repeal nations' laws https://wikileaks.org/tpp-investment/press.html

#5yrsago Woman medicated in a psychiatric ward until she said Obama didn't follow her on Twitter https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/woman-held-in-psychiatric-ward-after-correctly-saying-obama-follows-her-on-twitter-10132662.html

#5yrsago Sandwars: the mafias whose illegal sand mines make whole islands vanish https://www.wired.com/2015/03/illegal-sand-mining/

#5yrsago Australia outlaws warrant canaries https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2015/03/australian-government-minister-dodge-new-data-retention-law-like-this/

#5yrsago As crypto wars begin, FBI silently removes sensible advice to encrypt your devices https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20150325/17430330432/fbi-quietly-removes-recommendation-to-encrypt-your-phone-as-fbi-director-warns-how-encryption-will-lead-to-tears.shtml

#1yrago Article 13 will wreck the internet because Swedish MEPs accidentally pushed the wrong voting button https://medium.com/@emanuelkarlsten/sweden-democrats-swedish-social-democrats-defeat-motion-to-amend-articles-11-13-731d3c0fbf30

#1yrago EU's Parliament Signs Off on Disastrous Internet Law: What Happens Next? https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/03/eus-parliament-signs-disastrous-internet-law-what-happens-next

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Slashdot (https://slashdot.org/), Naked Capitalism (https://nakedcapitalism.com/), Late Stage Capitalism (https://www.reddit.com/r/LateStageCapitalism/).

Currently writing: I'm getting geared up to start work my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Data – the new oil, or potential for a toxic oil spill? https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/23/data-the-new-oil-or-potential-for-a-toxic-oil-spill/

Upcoming appearances:

Quarantine Book Club, April 1, 3PM Pacific https://www.eventbrite.com/e/quarantine-book-club-cory-doctorow-tickets-100931360416

Museums and the Web, April 2, 12PM-3PM Pacific https://mw20.museweb.net/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020. https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a new introduction by Edward Snowden: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

This work licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. That means you can use it any way you like, including commerically, provided that you attribute it to me, Cory Doctorow, and include a link to pluralistic.net.

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Quotations and images are not included in this license; they are included either under a limitation or exception to copyright, or on the basis of a separate license. Please exercise caution.

How to get Pluralistic:

Blog (no ads, tracking, or data-collection):

Pluralistic.net

Newsletter (no ads, tracking, or data-collection):

https://pluralistic.net/plura-list

Mastadon (no ads, tracking, or data-collection):

https://mamot.fr/web/accounts/303320

Twitter (mass-scale, unrestricted, third-party surveillance and advertising):

https://twitter.com/doctorow

Tumblr (mass-scale, unrestricted, third-party surveillance and advertising):

https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/pluralistic

When live gives you SARS, you make sarsaparilla -Joey "Accordion Guy" DeVilla

#pluralistic

20 notes · View notes

thelocdbella · 5 years ago

Text

How I Improved My Business

One day, while scrolling through social media, I came across West Street and immediately felt compelled to inquire about a work-study program. This video above was captured in 2015 during a photography session by Jimi Sweet, the studio’s owner/manager. I remember I was still trying to figure out the whole photography thing while working as a Reservationist in Midtown. I had no “formal” training, no professional gear and all I had were willing friends who wanted to be my models. Little did I know, that opportunity would then lead me down the road to where I am now with a thriving business and working alongside my epic Ma-tographer, Amy Anaiz.

***

Unfortunately, my dad passed that year and I became a recluse. I gave up my work-study, photography and not long after, met Amy, who I now consider my own personal mentor and sister (despite me calling her “Ma”). Haha! Over the last three years, I’ve managed to take my business off overwhelm and into autopilot because of the lessons and skills I’ve learned while working during my time at West Street and creating with Amy. If there’s one thing I’ve learned while having a mentor is that it’s okay to share your resources and anything you believe can help someone else without overextending to exhaustion. So here I am, ready to share with you the processes and applications I use on a daily to keep my business up and running and still have the time to do other important things.

Resources

I know you’re here for one thing, so I’m not going to keep you long. Below, you’ll find the applications I use. Let’s keep it real though! Although there are some good deals in signing up with these links, there are some that are affiliate links. What does that mean? It means I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on my links. I just needed to be transparent with you so you can make the best decision for you and your business.

TAVE:

I’ve been using Tave since January 2020 at the suggestion by a friend. Note, they are not a wedding photographer, but rather a wedding planner. What is Tave? It is an application that helps in keeping me organized in so many ways. It allows me to have everything in one place. I’m talking about contracts, emails, invoices, payment processing, workflow lists, calendars, questionnaires, and quotes. And guess how much I am paying per month? A whopping $25 per month for all of that. I remember when I first started, I had an app for everything. I had an app for taking payments, one for workflows, one for calendars, my email app, and an app for invoices. Then I’d head over to Microsoft Word to draft up contracts and questionnaires. Not only is Tave saving me money, it’s saving me time; literally and figuratively. By the click of a button, I’ve created a workflow for one client and all I have to do is press send. No extra drafting of things, going back and forth between different apps. If you decide to try it, you can do so for 60 days by signing up HERE. I know! You’re welcome!

PIXIESET:

I remember finding Pixieset years ago and I am still using it. If you are a photographer, it is the coolest and most modern way of sharing photos with your clients. The presentation is gorgeous and not to mention, they have different templates you can choose from for delivery. Oh! Did you know that you can attach a printing lab to your galleries and if a client decides to order images, it goes directly to the lab? Yes! If they order prints, the lab will send it directly to them. You do nothing. Like I’ve been saying, I’m all about saving time because TIME is MONEY! Most recently, they’ve added Pixieset Website where you’re able to build your site without having to upload new images. You can do that with the images you already have in your collections. The site templates are CHIC, MODERN, SIMPLE, and easy to navigate. So not only are we saving time, we are doing it while looking poppin! OKURR!! Check out Pixieset and tell me what you think!

SQUARE:

I know, I know! You use PayPal and there’s nothing wrong with it. However, I am a big fan of Square for features such as the ability to create marketing campaigns specific for social media and/or newsletters. I’ve been able to create specialized coupon codes and a loyalty program for my trusted clients. If you’re a business with employees, you are able to use their payroll and timecard options within the app. Not to mention, their mobile app is extremely efficient. You’re able to send invoices, set appointments through online booking, and create gift cards for your holiday marketing strategies if you’re into that sort of thing. What I love most about Square is that I’ve been able to connect it to my Tave system to collect payments and these payments I can immediately transfer to my bank account or debit card for less than a 2% fee.

FLODESK:

Alright, so I’m gonna be a little honest with you. I’ve been neglecting my newsletter for roughly… 2 years. I know! That’s a long-ass time! It’s not what you think, I promise. See what had happened was, I had MailChimp right? And it was so tedious to manage that I just gave up on it. Then my internet BB, Chasing Denisse, mentioned Flodesk on her story once and I went to check that baby out! Look here, Bellas, Flodesk is the truth! Simple and easy to use. The templates are sexy AF! I was able to create and send out my first newsletter last month in under 30 mins. When you sign up HERE (I say when, because you will dump MailChimp LOL!), you’ll get 50% off your subscription.

CREATIVE MARKET:

Now, what’s the point of building a website, setting up payment processing and creating a whole workflow if your branding and look is non-existent. That’s why I love Creative Market. It’s an online space where you can purchase anything from presets or actions for your photos, social media templates, and website templates to help with the look of your business. I’ll go on and on, but there’s no need when you can look for yourself. You can buy me a latte when you’re done.

CREATIVE LIVE:

Now, over the winter break, I’ve been spending 1-2 days per week watching online courses I’ve purchased/been gifted and learning from webinars to help with improving my business. I was introduced to Creative Live by Jimi years ago and have been hooked ever since. I’ve learned about lighting, posing, photography skills I can improve on to make my portraits pop and even small marketing details to take my business from basic to bougie. With Creative Live, you can attend the class the day of, watch a replay or purchase to watch at your leisure. That’s not to say I don’t learn and get hands-on experience working with Amy, but when I’m not shooting with her or my own weddings/sessions, I need to make sure I’m keeping my skills sharp and improving as I go.

With that said, go out and be bad AF. Don’t play small. Take it one day at a time and continuously work on improving not just your business, but yourself. I hope these apps (if you decide to try) assist in enhancing your systems and allocate more time to spend time with friends and family.

What apps do you normally use to streamline your business daily?

xoxo,

Bella

PS: You can check out my revamped site and let me know what you think. It’s exciting to see!

#Business #Photo #Photography #Tave #Pixieset #SquareUp #Flodesk #Creative Market #Creative Live #DAG IMAGES

2 notes · View notes