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jcmarchi · 3 months ago

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Admir Masic: Using lessons from the past to build a better future

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/admir-masic-using-lessons-from-the-past-to-build-a-better-future/

Admir Masic: Using lessons from the past to build a better future

As a teenager living in a small village in what was then Yugoslavia, Admir Masic witnessed the collapse of his home country and the outbreak of the Bosnian war. When his childhood home was destroyed by a tank, his family was forced to flee the violence, leaving their remaining possessions to enter a refugee camp in northern Croatia.

It was in Croatia that Masic found what he calls his “magic.”

“Chemistry really forcefully entered my life,” recalls Masic, who is now an associate professor in MIT’s Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering. “I’d leave school to go back to my refugee camp, and you could either play ping-pong or do chemistry homework, so I did a lot of homework, and I began to focus on the subject.”

Masic has never let go of his magic. Long after chemistry led him out of Croatia, he’s come to understand that the past holds crucial lessons for building a better future. That’s why he started the MIT Refugee Action Hub (now MIT Emerging Talent) to provide educational opportunities to students displaced by war. It’s also what led him to study ancient materials, whose secrets he believes have potential to solve some of the modern world’s most pressing problems.

“We’re leading this concept of paleo-inspired design: that there are some ideas behind these ancient materials that are useful today,” Masic says. “We should think of these materials as a source of valuable information that we can try to translate to today. These concepts have the potential to revolutionize how we think about these materials.”

One key research focus for Masic is cement. His lab is working on ways to transform the ubiquitous material into a carbon sink, a medium for energy storage, and more. Part of that work involves studying ancient Roman concrete, whose self-healing properties he has helped to illuminate.

At the core of each of Masic’s research endeavors is a desire to translate a better understanding of materials into improvements in how we make things around the world.

“Roman concrete to me is fascinating: It’s still standing after all this time and constantly repairing,” Masic says. “It’s clear there’s something special about this material, so what is it? Can we translate part of it into modern analogues? That’s what I love about MIT. We are put in a position to do cutting-edge research and then quickly translate that research into the real world. Impact for me is everything.”

Finding a purpose

Masic’s family fled to Croatia in 1992, just as he was set to begin high school. Despite excellent grades, Masic was told Bosnian refugees couldn’t enroll in the local school. It was only after a school psychologist advocated for Masic that he was allowed to sit in on classes as a nonmatriculating student.

Masic did his best to be a ghost in the back of classrooms, silently absorbing everything he could. But in one subject he stood out. Within six months of joining the school, in January of 1993, a teacher suggested Masic compete in a local chemistry competition.

“It was kind of the Olympiads of chemistry, and I won,” Masic recalls. “I literally floated onto the stage. It was this ‘Aha’ moment. I thought, ‘Oh my god, I’m good at chemistry!’”

In 1994, Masic’s parents immigrated to Germany in search of a better life, but he decided to stay behind to finish high school, moving into a friend’s basement and receiving food and support from local families as well as a group of volunteers from Italy.

“I just knew I had to stay,” Masic says. “With all the highs and lows of life to that point, I knew I had this talent and I had to make the most of it. I realized early on that knowledge was the one thing no one could take away from me.”

Masic continued competing in chemistry competitions — and continued winning. Eventually, after a change to a national law, the high school he was attending agreed to give him a diploma. With the help of the Italian volunteers, he moved to Italy to attend the University of Turin, where he entered a five-year joint program that earned him a master’s degree in inorganic chemistry. Masic stayed at the university for his PhD, where he studied parchment, a writing material that’s been used for centuries to record some of humanity’s most sacred texts.

With a classmate, Masic started a company that helped restore ancient documents. The work took him to Germany to work on a project studying the Dead Sea Scrolls, a set of manuscripts that date as far back as the third century BCE. In 2008, Masic joined the Max Planck Institute in Germany, where he also began to work with biological materials, studying water’s interaction with collagen at the nanoscale.

Through that work, Masic became an expert in Raman spectroscopy, a type of chemical imaging that uses lasers to record the vibrations of molecules without leaving a trace, which he still uses to characterize materials.

“Raman became a tool for me to contribute in the field of biological materials and bioinspired materials,” Masic says. “At the same time, I became the ‘Raman guy.’ It was a remarkable period for me professionally, as these tools provided unparalleled information and I published a lot of papers.”

After seven years at Max Planck, Masic joined the Department of Civil and Environmental Engineering (CEE) at MIT.

“At MIT, I felt I could truly be myself and define the research I wanted to do,” Masic says. “Especially in CEE, I could connect my work in heritage science and this tool, Raman spectroscopy, to tackle our society’s big challenges.”

From labs to the world

Raman spectroscopy is a relatively new approach to studying cement, a material that contributes significantly to carbon dioxide emissions worldwide. At MIT, Masic has explored ways cement could be used to store carbon dioxide and act as an energy-storing supercapacitor. He has also solved ancient mysteries about the lasting strength of ancient Roman concrete, with lessons for the $400 billion cement industry today.

“We really don’t think we should replace ordinary Portland cement completely, because it’s an extraordinary material that everyone knows how to work with, and industry produces so much of it. We need to introduce new functionalities into our concrete that will compensate for cement’s sustainability issues through avoided emissions,” Masic explains. “The concept we call ‘multifunctional concrete’ was inspired by our work with biological materials. Bones, for instance, sacrifice mechanical performance to be able to do things like self-healing and energy storage. That’s how you should imagine construction over next 10 years or 20 years. There could be concrete columns and walls that primarily offer support but also do things like store energy and continuously repair themselves.”

Masic’s work across academia and industry allows him to apply his multifunctional concrete research at scale. He serves as a co-director of the MIT ec3 hub, a principal investigator within MIT Concrete Sustainability Hub, and a co-founder and advisor at the technology development company DMAT.

“It’s great to be at the forefront of sustainability but also to be directly interacting with key industry players that can change the world,” Masic says. “What I appreciate about MIT is how you can engage in fundamental science and engineering while also translating that work into practical applications. The CSHub and ec3 hub are great examples of this. Industry is eager for us to develop solutions that they can help support.”

And Masic will never forget where he came from. He now lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, with his wife Emina, a fellow former refugee, and their son, Benjamin, and the family shares a deep commitment to supporting displaced and underserved communities. Seven years ago, Masic founded the MIT Refugee Action Hub (ReACT), which provides computer and data science education programs for refugees and displaced communities. Today thousands of refugees apply to the program every year, and graduates have gone on to successful careers at places like Microsoft and Meta. The ReACT program was absorbed by MIT’s Emerging Talent program earlier this year to further its reach.

“It’s really a life-changing experience for them,” Masic says. “It’s an amazing opportunity for MIT to nurture talented refugees around the world through this simple certification program. The more people we can involve, the more impact we will have on the lives of these truly underserved communities.”

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cognacsip · 3 years ago

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A L W A Y S - FUTAKUCHI KENJI | CH 5

A/N: As always a reminder that I post everything on my WATTPAD before posting to tumblr :) It's free so you don't have to worry about paying for anything! The platform just helps me better understand what I can improve on from votes and comments! Please let me know how you are liking the story so far!!!

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/294276897-a-l-w-a-y-s

Chapter 5

Kenji's POV

I'm almost grateful that Ema's house is on the way to Nova's. Ema lives at the corner of the street where I can make a turn to head in Nova's direction. But the detour itself feels like a waste of time. The time I could be using to run over to Nova's house.

"Kenji? Is something wrong?" I hear Ema's voice full of concern.

I have to play it cool for Ema. If she finds out that I am going to Nova's, she'll lose her mind. Not that I care at all how angry she gets at me. But I don't want her to take it out on Nova. That is the last thing I want right now.

"I'm fine," I manage to say as I wiggle my fingers between her tight grasp.

Ema's hand feels small, cold, and fragile. It's nothing I imaged holding hands would feel like. In fact, I know better than anyone that the only hand I want to hold is someone who currently hates me.

When Nova and I were younger, Nova's hand fit like a glove each time she would pull me towards the playground. Even now, I remember it well. I remember how her eyes would light up when our moms dropped it off to play together. I remember when she would grab my hand in excitement, and I would quietly grasp from the contact. I played it off each time, shrugging my shoulders to be cool, but I was boiling inside.

"This is me," Ema says, pulling me out of my daze.

"Okay, goodnight Ema," I let go of her hand, and a wave of relief washes over me. I almost feel bad for doing this, but if it means the best for Nova, I will suck it up.

I can tell Ema is put-off by my blunt and lack-there-of affection. But what does she think this would be like? She knows why I am doing this. She knows she won't be able to change my mind, so why is she so adamant about making Nova's life miserable?

As politely as I can possibly be, I wait for Ema to go inside before I make a run for it.

Right as the door closes behind her, I've made it down two blocks, sprinting to Nova's house. I will run to the ends of the earth of this woman, and she doesn't even fucking know it.

Catching my breath at the fifth block, I finally see her house a mere 50 steps away. From here, I tell myself that I can walk the rest of the way to regain my breathing. But my body doesn't necessarily listen to my heart nor my brain. Instead, I power walk the rest of the way straight to her front door.

Closing my eyes, I let out a breath and let my hands take the lead to knock on the door. The lights are on, so someone has to be home. If she's not home, then I'll wait inside. I'm desperate.

"Kenji?" Nova's mom's voice could be heard behind the door and as it opened in front of me.

A sigh of relief washes over me as I am greeted, "Hi, is Nova home?" I quickly query.

"You just missed her. She left to --"

An irritating ping strings at my disappointment as I resent taking that detour, "Do you mind if I wait here for her to come back?"

"Oh, Kenji, she left for a sleepover. She won't be back until maybe late Sunday."

"Sunday?!" I pout. I hate this. I want to see her.

Scratching my head, I remove my gaze from Nova's mom to plant it on the ground. Disappointment feels like it's here to stay as I'm contemplating the fact that I won't get to see Nova until possibly Monday. Giving in, I map out another plan because I'm annoying at best.

Unzipping my backpack, I pull out all the things I intended to share with Nova, "Could you please give this to Nova when she gets back for me? It's just some snacks and a bento."

Handing it over to Nova's mom, I can sense a bit of sadness from her.

"Kenji," Nova's mom starts, "why don't you wait to give these to her?"

"Because I haven't seen her in a while, and I want to guarantee it gets to her soon."

Judging from the way Nova's mom closes the door behind her to step further outside, she must know what happened. At this point, I'm prepared to get an earful. I'm prepared to dispute what Nova must have told her mom and essentially get back into her good graces.

"Kenji," Nova's mom whispers, "I have watched you and Nova grow up together for years. Since you were just a toddler, you have always loved Nova. In questionable ways, but nonetheless, you care about her."

"I --" was all I could say before Nova's mom continued.

"But I have never seen her as upset as she was a few days ago. I won't ask what happened because I know that whatever happened was probably a misunderstanding deep down. However, I cannot look over the fact that she is my daughter and the way she was hurting hurt me. I will give these to her for you, Kenji. But mending together what is broken will be for you to fix."

"I -- I'm sorry," I quietly whisper. Disappointing Nova's mom somehow feels worse than hurting Nova. The one person I had on my side that knows how much I care about Nova, no longer trusts me...

I want to see her right now.

"Kenji, it's okay to tell her how you feel. Maybe not now, but eventually."

"Y-yes, ma'am," I stutter, trying to hold myself together. I just want to see her.

After leaving Nova's house, I hurry my way over to Ami's house. I hate that I am this ridiculously motivated to see Nova. But I'm losing my mind. The last time I spent days without seeing Nova was when she moved away. The first few days were the worse. I must have moped around the house for hours before my mom finally had enough. Days eventually became weeks, and it never got easier, just manageable. Weeks became months, and the hollowness just stayed.

When I finally got the news that Nova was moving back and she would be attending the same school as me, I idiotically could not sleep. I played it off as if it was nothing and kept my cool, but deep down in the pits of my body, I could not have been more excited to be with her again.

Putting myself out of my misery, I finally arrive at Ami's house, knocking rigorously at her door. Putting all my context clues together, I concluded that Ami would be the only person Nova could spend the night at. Her or my place, and I highly doubt Nova is at my house.

"What - " I hear Ami as she opens the door to sass me.

"Is Nova here? Her mom said she's sleeping over at a friend's, so I put two and two together. Now here I am." Sassing Ami right back.

"Huh?" Ami responds in genuine surprise, "She's not here. You can look through the house if you want, but she's not here."

Sucking in a breath, I didn't know I was holding. I start to panic as I have no idea where Nova is. Is she not here? Is she not at home? Where on earth could she be?

"W-what - where is she?" I ask, knowing only Ami would have the answer to that.

"To be honest," Ami responds, "I don't know. I haven't heard from Nova in a while since that day. And quite frankly, I don't think she would be happy to see you right now or well, ever."

"That's not the point," I rebuttal, "I'm going to apologize to her and fix it-"

"Oh? Fix what exactly? Ever since Nova started school with us, you have been an ass to her. You tease her, you crack stupid jokes about her, and you date the one person that hates Nova the most."

"I'm not an ass to her!" I almost scream, "That has been our relationship since we were kids--"

"Since you were kids!" Ami cut in, "the both of you aren't kids anymore. Nova is not the same person you knew all those years ago. Grow up, Kenji. The entire school knows you have a massive crush on Nova and yet, she is the only person that doesn't."

"Where is she Ami," I firmly ask. Ami has never lectured me before. Unfortunately, I have known Ami since middle school, and when Ami knows something, she starts to preach.

Smiling at my discovery, Ami takes her shoulders off the edge of her door. There is nothing more frustrating than getting a lecture from Ami.

"She went back to her middle school to see that one guy - you know the one she --"

Leaving before she could finish, I storm down the road, huffing, and puffing. All I can see and feel now is red. The anger starts to overflow and is replaced with hopelessness. To think Kamasaki was the worse of it, no. Kamasaki is a no-one compared to the person Nova left to go see.

As a matter of fact, even I, am a no-one compared to him.

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drxwsyni · 5 years ago

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Petrified (pt.4)

Yandere Erasermic x f!Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

a/n: oooooh boy this took a hot minute to write, but i finally forced myself to finish it. and we reached 600 followers recently too!!!! i can’t believe there’s so many of you guys like holy heck. i hope you continue to enjoy what i have to offer :)

4.8k words

Warnings: reader experiences mild anxiety

As much as every ounce of your being begged to escape the confines of your small apartment and return to work, there were certain...motivators, holding you back.

For one, you presumed it’d be safest to heed the words of a medical professional―at least for the time being. Your condition had greatly improved since Friday, disregarding some lingering head pain, and now your self-preservation and common sense seemed to be functioning properly at the moment. In that regard, resting was likely the better idea.

As for the other thing keeping you home...perhaps it would be healthier not to think about it.

You felt ashamed, having been so undeniably intimidated by a couple of men who were simply being kind enough to drive you home last night. However the sensation didn’t come as a shock once you had taken the time to think the ordeal over.

It’s just what came naturally―your brain internalizing experiences, shaping them into something that should scare you.

Any rational person would laugh at your behaviour.

They’re heroes. Clearly what happened was just them expressing harmless concern.

And yet the more you tried to convince yourself of their innocent intentions, the harder it became to ignore the gut feeling that still lingered the morning after.

However, you knew how your brain could be sometimes―refusing to move on from initial impressions despite having rationalized the topic as a whole.

Hizashi was just naturally drawn to affection as a way of showing distress. There was no other meaning behind his lingering touches or endearing nicknames―just concern.

As for Shouta, well he always seemed to be a stern man. It was likely that it just manifests a bit more when he’s worried, it’s just the professionalism in him.

There was no need to stay so fixated on the subject when you could be using your time to catch up on hobbies that you’d greatly neglected as a result of your occupation. Having no reason for doing anything else, a little self-indulgence was practically your only choice.

It was still early, at least for your standards―knowing full well that your lifestyle kept you in bed longer than the average human.

You kept searching for things to do here and there, never staying on one task for too long. First it was cleaning the kitchen, then attempting to read a long abandoned novel. You tried finding something on t.v to watch, but everything only offered you the same empty feeling of boredom. Nothing could pique your interest long enough to hold you to one pastime―and for good reason.

There was a message from Hizashi that remained unopened on your phone since you woke up.

It felt ridiculous, being so hesitant to look at the damned message. Even after telling yourself that there was nothing to worry about, you couldn’t bring yourself to read it. So when you heard the familiar ping not once, but twice in succession while organizing your magazine collection, the feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach did not come as a surprise.

The device was still on your nightstand where you disregarded it last night, and subsequently neglected it this morning. Even through the walls of your bedroom you could still hear the notifications go off.

Inwardly cursing, you had a faint idea that continuing to block out the intrusion would likely lead to more issues between you and the two men. Not that it should, everyone forgets to answer their phone here and there. But you weren’t an idiot―even if it was just paranoia, the consequences of ignoring the messages weren’t something you particularly wanted to think about given the recent behaviour of the heroes.

As expected, the screen was lit up in wait for your return.

From: Hizashi

morning sunshine! just checking up on ya, how r u feeling?

9:17 am

ya doing okay? didn’t pass out again i hope ;)

12:53 pm

if ya keep leaving me hangin i’m gonna get worried songbird…

12:54 pm

Ah yes, you thought, he’s as coddling as normal it seems.

You figured it’d be wise to send a reply before he bust down your door to make sure you were still alive in person.

You:

I’m alright! Just slept in a little :)

12: 54 pm

The response that came instantly was almost a little inhumanly fast.

From: Hizashi

oh thank god, don’t need a repeat of last friday

12:54 pm

You:

Yeah, definitely not. Thanks for checking up on me though!

12:56 pm

From: Hizashi

lemme know if ya need anything picked up, probably not a good idea for you to be going out rn

12:56 pm

Naturally, you wouldn’t let him do that even if you did need anything. God knows how much trouble you’ve been so far―no need to cause more.

You:

Sounds good, I’ll let you know if I do.

I’m actually in the middle of cleaning right now so how bout we talk later :)

12:57 pm

The more you conversed with him, the harder it became to think about anything other than the embarrassing experiences you had with the man. It was probably best if you gave up the conversation, knowing you’d have more than enough time to chat when you regrettably were forced to eat dinner with him and his partner.

Thankfully, he seemed to be okay with the proposition as well.

From: Hizashi

aww alright, don’t work urself too hard sunshine!

12:58 pm

Too bothered to give a proper farewell, you turned your phone off, leaving it on do not disturb to avoid further distress.

_____

You’d spent the rest of the day tidying up here and there. It turns out focusing solely on going to work only to come home for rest had left your apartment shamefully messy. Every now and again your thoughts would drift back to the two intrusions in your life as of lately. It was invasive―not being able to leave well enough alone. You weren’t physically near them they still plagued you with anxiety, even if it was just barely recognizable.

Dinnertime came soon enough, and you’d spent it mindlessly scrolling through social media. The feeling of wanting to chuck your phone across the room was fleeting―but present―as you momentarily laid eyes on a post having to do with Present Mic and his radio show. It would seem not even in your perceived distraction could you distance yourself from the thoughts and feelings related to him and his somber counterpart.

The night went on, slowly but surely. For better or for worse you let yourself get lost in the endless play-through of television. Some shows you’d seen before, others you hadn’t. It didn’t really matter when the only purpose they served was to keep your mind on something that didn’t have your hair falling out from stress.

Eventually you felt your mind become foggy with exhaustion once again―and you couldn’t be more thankful.

_____

Wednesday was spent doing many of the same things as the day before. Cleaning―so much cleaning. Turns out you’d missed a lot yesterday, and the lighting of the somewhat early morning sun was more than enough to highlight all the dirt and grime that had yet to be scrubbed away.

So you got to work, feeling rejuvenated with a good night’s sleep.

By the time you made it to six o’clock you felt thoroughly beat, and in the best way. You spent your time eating thinking about the work day you would have tomorrow. Sure, you were aware that it’d only bring the all too familiar sluggishness to your body. But you were a people pleaser, so really that sensation didn’t matter at the end of the day. What mattered was the motivation you felt that spurred you to work―both the verbal and nonverbal praise those who purchased the fruits of your labour gave.

Expectedly, when you woke up Thursday morning, although it was closer to the afternoon at that point, there was a spring in your step as you readied yourself for the day.

As always the comforting smell of fresh greenery in the air was much appreciated as you stepped into the floral boutique. Your coworker greeted you with open arms, regarding your seemingly healthy recovery. It was nearing the end of their shift, and therefore soon to be the beginning of yours, so you headed to the employee designated portion of the building to make the few preparations for the start of your night.

Naturally, you were quickly subjected to the whims and demands of customers when you took your place at the front counter. Given the monotonous time you spent away from any meaningful stimulation, the activity was appreciated.

You were assorting foliage left right and center, the company you worked for obtaining quite the substantial amount of earnings in the process. The time went by steadily, you working diligently alongside of it. Request after request was met, not even the few unsavoury interactions phased you all the much amidst the bustling atmosphere. A few familiar faces entered the shop, to which you greeted with a comforting warmth only good service could provide.

It felt good to be caught up in routine, making the nearing end of it only the more bitter. But it still came, and you were going through the motions of tending to the final arrangement with somewhat slowed movements as a result of your quirk usage.

The awaiting customer hastily took the finished product before paying and exiting the establishment. People tended to be in a bit of a rush at this hour, likely due to the lateness of the night. You disregarded the occurrence and settled for cleaning up for the rest of your shift.

There was sweeping and disinfecting to be done, along with tidying up the assembly station and checking on the greenery room one last time. You went through the tasks absentmindedly, having done them countless times before. The routine was like second nature, allowing your thoughts to go over the events of the workday.

You were giving a final once over of the plant life when the high pitched jingle of the front door bell rang out through the shop.

Really? At this hour you’re trying to buy flowers even though it’s literally closing time?

Giving a sigh of frustration you stepped out of the room and headed to the front. But low and behold, it was not in fact an incompetent customer waiting to be served.

“Did you even consider staying home for the whole week?” The erasure hero was leaning against the front counter when you entered the room. He was smirking ever so slightly, almost as if he knew that both of you were aware that you wouldn’t stay away from work. His tone was even teasing, making your frustrations go away only to be replaced by a slight feeling of flusteredness under his intense gaze. You didn’t know whether you preferred this side of him or the side that made you want to curl into a ball after being berated by unyielding lecturing mixed with interrogation.

“Hello to you too. I’m sorry if you're here for flowers cause it’s pretty much closing time.”

Just then Hizashi walked out from behind a display stand, making his way next to Shouta. “Not quite listener! Just wanted to make sure you were still up for that repayment we talked about.”

Ah yes, like you could forget that any time soon.

“Of course. Still not sure how it makes up for things but since you insist...who am I to say no?” You were behind the counter, taking stock of today's earnings as Shouta continued.

“I suppose it’s not really a traditional form of repayment, but we promise you’ll enjoy it. To be honest we don’t have company over often, so it’ll be a nice change of pace for us too.”

It was a relief to see that their behaviour wasn’t nearly as hostile as it was a few nights ago. Frankly, you just barely got out of that situation without breaking down from your highly anxious nerves.

“Ya finishing up there songbird? We’ll give you a ride home.” Joyous as ever, Hizashi was all too eager to put you further in debt.

Expectedly, his partner was quick to agree to the proposition. “That’s not a bad idea. Not to sound patronizing, but it really is dangerous to be out by yourself at this hour.”

You wrapped up the assessment of the register’s contents, closing the drawer and locking it up. “Thanks for the offer, but I refuse to impose on you two anymore. Besides, walking home can be kinda therapeutic―at least when I’m not tired out of my mind.” You gave a slight chuckle at the end of your statement, having long gotten used to that recurring condition at the end of the day.

“We weren’t asking, (y/n). You're still recovering, even though you probably won’t admit it. And I won’t beat around the bush―you’re too vulnerable in this state.”

It would seem Shouta’s previous attitude was just for show. Does he ever get tired of being so serious all the time?

It was like second nature at this point―direct confrontation leading to an initially mild panic that would soon snowball into a full blown breakdown if the occurrence persists.

You kept up the friendly appearance nonetheless.“I just think I’d prefer―”

“It’s no problem, sweetheart. You know we don’t mind helpin’ ya out. Besides we still gotta work out when you’re comin over, yeah?” The blond’s smile did little to calm the growing apprehension you felt.

Just be a little more stubborn. Some people need that extra reminder.

“It’s fine, really. I’ll just message you for the details and―”

“(Y/n).” It made your stomach churn―the lowness in the erasure hero's voice. He wasn’t having it. For a moment you pondered whether he’d ever really care about what you had to say.

“Just finish closing up, ‘kay hun? We’ll wait right here until you’re done.” Hizashi kept his eyes on you in wait for a response, or even an action that would show you’d comprehended what they said. And of course you had―you just desperately wished they’d never said it in the first place.

You felt ashamed, and it was becoming an all too familiar feeling when you were around the two men. But it was just who you were, met with compassion but only getting dejected by it. You were uncomfortable, there was no denying that. Backed into a corner that shouldn’t exist, but does because you didn’t have the will to change the situation into your favour.

Despite your distress, the part of you that put others before yourself prevailed.

“Okay, I guess. Just―um...gimme a few minutes please.” You wondered if they could even hear your reply, given that even to yourself it sounded almost non existent. It didn’t matter. You were fleeing to the employee room without bothering to find out.

You stood in front of your locker, hands shaking in the slightest as you got changed―apron off, jacket on, backpack slung over your shoulder. The coolness of the thin metal offered some relief, you keeping your hands atop the closed door for a moment to calm your rapidly beating heart.

At least you’d get home quickly, you thought.

As they promised, the two were waiting in the seating area at the front of the shop, quietly making conversation with each other. The sound of your footsteps alerted them to your presence.

“Ready to rock and roll?” Hizashi stood up from his seat, his partner following suit.

You gave the room a quick once over, making sure everything was where it needed to be. “I think so.” A quiet ride back home was what you hoped for, but there was more to be discussed, much to your dismay.

Shouta held the door open for the two of you, letting you pause to lock up when you had all exited. “How was work today?”

The closeness of his voice as you turned the lock into place made you jump slightly, but you did your best to ignore the temporary fear. “Fine, I suppose. Like any other Thursday night…” You tried to hide the underlying anxiety with a smile, but you couldn’t tell whether or not it did the trick. Giving the front door an experimental tug to make sure it was locked, you turned back to let the two lead you to their car.

You felt a hand settle on the small of your back―Shouta’s hand―as he walked with you while Hizashi remained on your other side, slightly ahead of you. “How’s your head doing, is the medication working?”

The two walked at a casual pace, but to you it felt unbearably slow―what you wouldn’t give to just walk home without the admittedly unwelcomed company. “It still hurts a bit every now and then, but the pills keep the pain at bay for the most part.”

By now you were approaching their car which was parked on the side of the road, the blond opening it for you to step in. Shouta took up the responsibility of driving once again, Hizashi in the passenger's seat.

“Ya gettin’ enough sleep?” You were sitting behind the driver's seat, letting Hizashi have the opportunity to comfortably look back at you while he talked.

“Probably more than enough.”

You heard Shouta start the car before he responded. “That’s good to hear. It’s unfortunate that your work keeps you out so late though.” The car started forward, and you were thankful that at this rate it’d only take a few minutes to reach your apartment. You kept your eyes trained on the passing scenery to avoid any awkward eye contact.

“So when do ya think would be a good day to come over. I’ve got my radio show on Fridays and weekdays don’t always sit too well with teaching ‘n stuff.”

“Yeah...Fridays definitely won’t work for me either. Honestly I don’t really get much time for myself outside of work.” Not that you weren’t used to this reality by now, but every so often you wished your life allowed for just a little more free time. If anything, the horrid state you found your apartment to be in when you were forced to stay home would surely attest to that.

It would seem that Shouta agreed with his partner’s statement, “How about this Saturday? I can come pick you up at around 5:30.”

You contemplated whether it was even worth arguing over letting him give you a ride to their place. And then you remembered exactly what landed you in their car in the present.

You probably wouldn’t get very far with that fight.

“That should be fine.” It was only in your nature to want to offer some form of compensation. You knew that this whole ordeal was meant to be you repaying them, so you should at least try to cater to that reality. “I can make something to bring so you guys don’t have to do all the work. Cooking isn’t really my strong suit but I’m a pretty decent baker―maybe I could put something together for dessert?”

“Nah don’t bother with that babe. We’re supposed to be treating you, remember?”

“Exactly, and I doubt any of us will have room for desert. Another time maybe.”

“Yep! Besides, you being there’s all the sweetness we need.” You didn’t have to look at Hizashi to know the grin he had on his face as he threw around careless sentiments like his literal partner wasn’t sitting right next to him.

The car was pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex. To be honest you didn’t know how to respond to the nonchalant compliment, “Ah...yeah. Just let me know if there’s any change in plan I guess.” The vehicle came to a stop, you pulling your backpack into your lap while unbuckling the seatbelt.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay?” This time you didn’t make the mistake of looking at Shouta as he talked, for fear that his glare would burn holes through your skull. Instead you pretended to fiddle with something on your bag while responding.

“Yeah, thanks for the ride.”

The car door unlocked, letting you step outside into the brisk fresh air. Before you could close the door you heard Hizashi calling out to you, hand placed behind the headrest of his partner’s seat as he turned to speak to you. “We can give you a ride home tomorrow after work if ya’d like. Shouta’s got nothin’ going on―it’d be no trouble.”

“No,” that was definitely not something you needed, “I’ve got something I need to do after work actually, but thanks for the offer.” There was nothing to attend to after your shift, but they didn’t need to know that. Lying was never something you were the best at, and you hoped the shakiness in your voice didn’t give too much away.

“Alrighty then songbird, just thought I’d ask.”

“Have a good night (y/n).”

You smiled at the blond facing you, “Thanks, you too.” Before they could get another word out, as at this point you felt they would take up more of your time if possible, you shut the car door. Once again giving a small wave before you entered the building, you found it all too hard to contemplate how you’d politely weasel your way out of this newly developed relationship after the ensuing Saturday night.

_____

Friday came and went as expected. Waking up with the familiar sluggishness plaguing your body, moving past the sensation to go about your duties―everything falling into place as routine. Meeting the demands of love-stricken individuals was as taxing as normal, but it was all you had to make you feel like you were contributing something valuable to society. At the end of the day it was worth doing questionable things to your health.

The slightly less honourable motivation in the form of decent tips was always an added bonus. Your co-workers mentioned a few times that somehow you always ended up with a higher profit than the rest of them. It made you feel slightly guilty, but the usage of your quirk was likely the reasoning behind the occurrence.

Nights like these always ended with more earnings than normal―given the sheer volume of customers compared to the typical weekday traffic. Right now you took solace in the reward as you usually do at the end of your shift, thumbing through the few generous bills you received.

Satisfied with the haul, you completed your mental checklist that you’d formed over time to ensure that all tasks were completed by the end of the day. Your keys felt heavy in your wearied hands as you locked up, turning on the heels of your feet in the direction of your awaiting apartment.

You’d be lying if you said you were surprised to see that the two mildly invasive heroes hadn’t checked in to see that you were actually busy after work. Not that you wanted them to―having to lie once again wasn’t in your best interest. Still, the phenomenon that was their recurring presence had not gone unnoticed. More often than not you found your thoughts drifting to past experiences with them, and therefore regrettably resurfacing some unpleasant feelings.

For now however, you did your best to fixate on other, less mentally damaging things. In light of recent events you chose to take the long way home, inwardly shuddering as you passed the alleyway which you ever so carelessly ventured into exactly a week ago.

Maybe you were just hyperaware due to some lingering paranoia, but you could’ve sworn you could make out rustling in certain places around you―places that shouldn’t exactly be making that much noise.

Behind you. No...above you? Or was it both―the sounds distinct but lacking just enough to throw off your comprehension to make a full analysis of their origin.

Forget about it for God’s sake. You’re tired. It’s been a long day and you’re anxious because you got jumped just seven days ago in the same area.

But you could hear it.

Shifting in the shadows. Muffled but there all the same.

Footsteps?

The possibility had your heart rate growing faster by the second.

Not footsteps, just your mind playing tricks on you. You’re okay.

Unconsciously, your pace grew quicker, the patter of your shoes hitting the pavement sounding off below you. In the midst of your panic riddled thoughts you failed to register that you’d reached your destination.

An audible sigh escaped your lips as you observed the towering building with gratitude.

You kept up the hastened strides, reaching your apartment in good time. The time between stepping through the threshold of the abode and when your head hit your pillow was a blur―but really those monotonous details weren’t all that imperative.

As much as you wanted to get a good night's sleep, your subconscious had other plans. You reached the state of deep slumber that you desired, but it was riddled with offending nightmares.

Dark looming figures in the corner of your eyes, disappearing when you tried to get a good look at them. Running from something that placed a deep set fear into your very being, despite not having even seen what the atrocity was.

It left you to wake in a cold, sticky feeling sweat. Disheveled and disoriented, the time didn’t quite matter―wanting only for the feeling of trepidation to dissipate so you can return to a hopefully more peaceful sleep.

_____

Keys clattered loudly on the glass countertop of the side table in the entryway as Shouta haphazardly emptied his pocket’s contents. The sound of a running shower could be heard on the floor above him, making the presence of his boisterous partner known. He removed the heavy combat boots of his hero costume and lazily sauntered to the shared bedroom.

By the time he got there the shower had turned off, and he occupied himself with changing out of his attire for something less restricting in wait for the blond to make an appearance.

He’d just finished getting settled when Hizashi exited the attached washroom to their bedroom, hair still damp and lightly soaking the t-shirt he’d thrown on. “Well, don’t keep me waiting’”

The voice hero leaned against the headboard of their bed, “She didn’t have any plans, I watched her walk straight home after her shift and she never left the apartment either.”

Hizashi’s usually persistently bright smile faltered, “Ah...she probably forgot about them or something.”

“Do you really believe that?”

The disappointment was evident in the blond’s face, “Would she really just lie to us like that, even though we’re tryin’ to help her?”

The erasure hero sighed, “She’s self-destructive, it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen her put herself in danger without second thought.”

“God, Shou’―and she’s always shakin’ like a leaf. I don’t even think the poor thing realizes she’s doin’ it either.”

Shouta looked to the ceiling for a moment as if searching for an answer that would please his partner, “We can try and bring it up with her―see if there’s a reason behind all this.”

“And what if she lies to us again, huh? I can’t keep watching her hurt herself babe.”

At that the erasure hero stood up from his position on the bed, making his way over to the washroom in hopes of a shower relaxing his nerves. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s just see how dinner goes first, okay?”

“But what if she never tells us what’s goin’ on? I mean she’s already avoiding us for christ’s sake, what’s to stop her from―”

“If anything happens we’ll deal with it ‘Zashi. I don’t want to hear anything more of it until after we sit down with her, got it?” He paused at the doorway as emphasis, waiting for his partner's agreement on the matter.

“Yeah okay, sorry.”

“Don’t be, I care about her too, remember?” With that he closed the door before his partner could add to the conversation.

_____

When you did finally wake up from that hellish night, almost entirely riddled with disturbing dreams, you were left with a lingering feeling of dread. A pit in your stomach that remained persistent no matter how much you tried to think of something other than the incomprehensible yet sickening scenarios that unwillingly played out inside your head.

Looking at your phone didn’t help you settle into a more agreeable state either.

It was just past midday―giving you roughly five hours until you had to pull yourself together to sit through what was hopefully the last encounter with the two heroes.

For now however, you listened to the sound of the birds chirping outside your window―it was always easier to get lost in your surroundings than actively trying to solve your own issues.

Maybe by the time you had to leave you’d feel better. But even if you didn’t, the dull ache of ailment was always persistent in your life in one way or another―so what was one more problem?

End of Part 4

_____

taglist: @roseloverofpastels @shinsous-eye-bags @tjhonoluluprezstitch626 @pekusofixus @riarora @glitterypinkkitty

#yandere bnha #yandere erasermic #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere my hero academia #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere mha

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yr-bed · 3 years ago

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Crap jobs remain a cornerstone of our working lives (there's a whole book about it), and I'm under no illusions as to it having been better "back in the day," but the atomised nature of employment today — between market-lead shifts towards zero hour contracts and casual workers having zero rights, as well as the pandemic-necessitated shift to working from home — means the collective bargaining of previous generations is much more difficult to put into action. So I'm always interested to hear about alternative ways of resisting shitty work practices, such as the legends in this Novara Media article who've come up with all sorts of workarounds in their WFH set ups. This anonymous software developer is especially inspiring:

"Since working from home, I’ve basically been able to get my job done in half the time I would in the office. Being a programmer, I’ve figured out ways to automate the most annoying parts of my work. I’ve written a set of mouse and keyboard commands to fill out my timesheets, fill up my calendar with ‘private meetings’, and send out emails. Automated mouse movements also keep my Microsoft Teams status green, making it look like I’m hard at work. This is all against the rules, but it saves me hours. Right now, I’m taking Fridays off entirely."

This is obviously not quite the same as organised walkouts over poor pay or loss of pensions, but it's an effective form of resistance against a) jobs where attendance and looking busy appears to be the main thing, and b) work in general. Feeling a sense of resistance to work is, I think, entirely natural. For all the talk of a Protestant work ethic being inherit in humans, performing labour of which you are not a beneficiary in order to afford the rudiments of a comfortable existence is, and I hope this isn't a mad idea, a load of bollocks and totally unnatural. In How To Do Nothing, a book I won't stop wanging on about and I'm sorry for that, Jenny Odell writes about this "Bartleby The Scrivener"-inspired approach to striking. Not so much a justifiably-aggressive collective action, but an organised-or-otherwise shrug of "I would prefer not to." I was reminded of the concept when reading the article "Tired of Running in Place, Young Chinese ‘Lie Down'":

"The new lifestyle buzzword, tang ping [lie down], stems from a now-deleted post on forum site Tieba. Unlike similar, previous terms to have had their time in the spotlight in recent years, tang ping is an action rather than a feeling — resolving to just scrape by, exerting the bare minimum effort at an unfulfilling job, as opposed to the futility of raging against the capitalist machine.

"The author of the Tieba post described how he had been unemployed for the past two years yet did not see this as problematic. Instead of accepting and pursuing society’s ideas of success, he decided to just lie down.

“'Since there has never been an ideological trend exalting human subjectivity in our land, I shall create one for myself: Lying down is my wise movement. Only by lying down can humans become the measure of all things,' the user wrote in his lying-down manifesto."

The article goes on to explicate a fairly defeatist element to tang ping, perhaps understandably, but I don't think the acceptance of your material conditions and rejection of the standard way of improving them is necessarily throwing in the towel. It also certainly isn't the same as the rejection of society and replacing it instead with days dedicated to "lift[ing] weights and be[ing] self-sufficient through crypto," Hussein Kesvani's apt summation of nihilistic self-improvement bros. Quite the opposite: it chimes with something Guy Debord painted onto the walls of a Parisian street in 1953, and which I had on a poster in my room for a bit (because ofc I did): Never Work! Debord wrote, in response to a postcard reproducing his graffiti, disagreeing with its framing:

"Monsieur Buffier’s title, in fact, is 'Superfluous advice.' Given that it is well know that the great majority of people work, and that said work is, despite the strongest repulsion, imposed on the near totality of workers by a crushing constraint, the slogan NEVER WORK can in no way be considered 'superfluous advice.' This term of Monsieur Buffier’s implies that such a position is already unquestioningly followed by all, and thus casts the most ironic discredit on my inscription, and consequently my ideas and those of the Situationist movement."

Karen Elliot wrote more broadly, more recently, on the rejection of work, "which locates the wage-labour relation as the central pillar of capitalist relations and therefore the prime locus of attack." Her piece takes on the then-emergent trends of precarious work and the propaganda of productivity, which are now in full bloom, and places the struggle for an exit from this shitty situation within the history of Marxist thought:

"[Eduard] Bernstein, Engel’s literary executor and one of the most influential figures within reformist Marxism, argued in a series of articles under the title The Problems of Socialism (1897–98) that the ‘final goal’ of socialism would be achieved through capitalism, not through capitalism’s destruction. As rights were gradually won by workers, he argued, their cause for grievance would be diminished and consequently so would the foundation and necessity of revolution."

Which, well, see how that turned out. Not only have worker's rights been further eroded by the strategic destruction of labour unions, passing of laws which allow for predatory hiring and labour practises, but we're also at a point now where the opportunity to address "grievances" has been more-or-less removed by the business models of Uber, Deliveroo, Amazon, et al. But we also don't seem to be particularly close to a glorious fully automated luxury socialist revolution. So given all of that, why not just do the bare minimum and have a lie down?

#antiwork #antijobs #never work #karen elliot #guy debord #karl marx #bullshit jobs

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lonelypond · 3 years ago

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Love Is For Losers

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 1/2

Summary: Yazawa Nico and Nishikino Maki are both key players on the Otonokizaka University Tennis Team. But now Nico has decided to "improve" Maki's social media and tennis game.

Love Is For Losers

Not the most flattering picture of herself, racquet ready, waiting for the return of a serve, but Maki Nishikino really liked her look of concentration. So she hit “Post.”. And the hearts and reactions and fire emojis piled on. Wait, what was that comment, from @NicoNi? “With squinty eyes like that, how can you see the ball?”

WTF?!?!?!? Junior and top tennis singles player Nico Yazawa was notorious for living on social media. Since practice started in September, she’d been leading weekly social media best practice training sessions for the Otonokizaka University team that freshman Maki had proudly never attended. And now she was trolling Maki? Was that a social media best practice?

Maki never replied to a comment, but to let the smug Nico Ni have the last word would grate across every nerve Maki had.

To quickly type, “Who’s in the top 10 national standings again? Can you see that?” seemed almost an illicit thrill. To get an instant reply of eye emojis, plus a sweatdrop made Maki laugh out loud. Quickly scoping out the coffeeshop to check if she’d drawn any attention to herself, Maki clicked through to NicoNi’s home page, Nico’s last post was a bikini shot with an obscene amount of hearts and various emoji combinations in an endless comment scroll. Maki snorted, too obvious an attention grab. Maki would ignore it and stick to tennis, which she knew very well. Ah, there was a pic of Nico rushing the net, one of her favorite ways to use her sprint speed. Maki had an in.

“Spend less time looking at my pics and more time on your approach shots.”

Another instant reply. Another sweat drop. “Nico knows. But you’re so pretty. See you at media training ; )”

Did Nico think she was going to get Maki into one of her stupid sessions like that? Maki dropped her phone on the table, sipping her espresso with a frown.

###

Maki’s phone pinged explosively. A series of messages from her self proclaimed bestie and doubles partner, Hoshizora Rin.

R: hahaha Maki Ma you really need to be here

R: Nico’s going through your TWIG account as her “what not to do on social media” slideshow

R: it’s so funny, Maki

R: (*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)(*≧艸≦)

R: you missed out Check out Nico’s LIVE.

Maki stared at her phone. Nico’s Live, that happened when you went to someone’s TWIG profile and clicked on their pic, right? Maki did, grimacing as she clicked on Nico’s face. Nico was in front of a whiteboard, drawing pictures of tennis rackets, disgustingly cute tennis rackets. She leaned forward, checking her phone, then grinned like someone who’d just served a winning ace.

“And @Nishikinoshot has just joined the fans watching Nico on TWIG Live…”

Maki heard Rin yell “Hi Maki!!!” in the background as Nico continued, “One of the best ways to learn how to properly conduct and promote yourself on social media is to find an influencer you respect and build a relationship with them. @Nishikinoshot has chosen @NicoNi, the smartest move she…

“I have not.” Maki shouted at her phone and then felt silly when she realized there was no way for Nico to see or hear her, or was there? TWIG kept floating an “ask to join the Live” teaser, so Maki thumbed it. Nico paused, obviously her notifications were on, another one of those winning serve grins and suddenly Maki was sharing Nico’s screen.

“Jumping into the Live. Good initiative, Nishikino..”

“Maki.”

“So why’d you pick your TWIG handle?”

What kind of a question was that?

“Nishikino shot...you know...because of tennis...the Nishikino shot always scores.” Also worked with photography, a hobby Maki wanted more time for.

“Nishikino announces her prowess off and on the court.” Nico giggled, Maki glared.

“What are you saying? That’s not right.”

“Ah, so you admit it is confusing. Make a note of that, class, it’s always best to have a tag that doesn’t confuse people.” Staring right at Maki, ruby eyes twinkling, Nico made an elaborately surprised, amused face, raising a hand to cover her mouth. “We were reading it as Nishikino’s hot, ‘cause you are.”

Maki flushed. And fumbled with her phone to end the live, not even registering what other garbage Nico was saying. And then her phone pinged again.

R: Are you all right, Maki? Nico was just having a little fun.

M: I don’t want to talk about Nico.

R: Okay.

M: That was your fault.

R: Hey, I thought you’d want to know.

M; Yeah...but tomorrow, after practice, you’re on clean up.

R: Maaaaaki (⁎˃ᆺ˂)’

###

Grunting, Maki swung through at full velocity, then grimaced as yet another practice serve skipped out of bounds. She leaned over to pick up another couple of balls. Both buckets were empty. Tempted to throw her racket, instead she shook her head, tucked her racquet under her arm, grabbed a bucket and went to the other side of the court to pick up the balls.

“Hey, let me help you,” chirped an unfamiliar voice. Maki turned. Nico Yazawa had grabbed the other buckets and was hustling for the net. Nico was always hustling, all lean muscle and speed. Her sable hair, usually put up in twin tails, was loose, still wet from the shower. She’d changed from her usual practice uniform to casual pink and black striped biker shorts and an oversized pink t-shirt shirt that slid off her shoulder and read “Killer Cute.” “Coach ended practice an hour ago.”

Maki shrugged, starting with the balls as far away as possible from the spot Nico had chosen.

“You’re always out here.”

“I take tennis seriously.”

Nico hesitated, hands on her hips, watching Maki curiously over mirror sunglasses perched halfway down her nose, “Nico sees that. But you can get trapped in patterns if no one points them out.”

“I’m fine. I win.”

“Don’t you want to win better?”

“Win better? That’s not a thing.” Maki tapped her racquet against her leg, fidgety.

“Accuracy matters.” Nico picked up a tennis ball, tossed it into Maki’s bucket, and winked, “Crush your opponents with finesse, not raw power. Fewer wasted serves.”

Maki’s hasty rush of anger changed to curiosity. Nico led the team in aces, with amazing power for someone so short. “Coach hasn’t said anything.”

“Like you said, you get the job done. And Coach has other problems...like keeping Honoka from exhausting herself in the first few volleys.”

They both chuckled at how eager Honoka Kosaka was to chase down every ball, until she hit empty. As a joke, after their last practice, Rin had her girlfriend, Hanayo Koizumi, the team manager, post a photoshopped pic of a golden retriever playing next to Honoka’s double’s partner, Umi Sonoda. Honoka had laughed longer than anyone.

Nico was right, Maki realized. Coach had been spending a lot of time on the players with more basic problems. And their assistant spend most of the time on opponent research, editing video footage.

“Nico uses a platform stance, but Maki could get away with a pin-point stance. Watch my feet.” Nico grabbed a ball, tossing it up, swinging at it with a pretend racquet. Instead of her feet remaining the same distance apart, her back foot shifted closer to the front one and then she pushed off up into the serve. “You’ve already got natural explosive power, you don’t need a nitro boost.”

Maki considered, moving her feet through the change Nico suggested. It felt comfortable, offering more control. She nodded, then jumped back when Nico clapped her on the upper arm.

“You’re a quick learner. Hang on. Nico will hop over there and you can try it out. It’s more fun with an opponent.”

“I’ll win. You’ll be crushed.” Maki winked.

Nico laughed and it echoed. “Nico didn’t teach you everything Nico knows.”

###

“So you’re a local too.” Nico was scooping salad into Maki’s bowl. They’d decided to stop for dinner.

“Yeah. My family owns a medical center so I couldn’t just go off anywhere.”

Nico paused, eyebrow raised. “Why not?”

“I’ve been working there since…” Maki tried to remember her first job at the hospital, how old was she? She remembered sitting at her father’s desk, coloring in specially made anatomy chart pages in elementary school. Did that count as a job? “Forever.”

“Ah. Nico had to stick close for family too. Three sibs.” Nico flashed a smile and three fingers. “They’re the best, but they rely on Nico.”

“Your parents work a lot?” Maki understood that.

“Yeah, my mom does. My dad died when I was little.”

Maki paled, what did you say to that. “I’m sorry” came out as a mumble.

A sigh, weary, as Nico pushed Maki’s filled bowl in her direction, “Me too. But we survived. He taught me tennis. And…” Nico put on a sparkling smile, bounced her hands up to her temple, rock hands gesture, and her voice became brighter. “Nico Nico Ni.” Then she relaxed back to normal, “He said it could cheer up the whole world..”

Maki remembered something. “Nico Nico is the ideophone for smile.”

Nico leaned forward, “So the Nishikino isn’t just for show.”

Maki shook her head, “We have a hospital in Tokyo too. I’ve spent a lot of summers there.”

“Wow, a doc and a jet setter. So why tennis?”

“I liked it better than golf. My parents said piano didn’t count as a networking activity.”

“Piano? Classic stuff.” Nico created a melody on an air keyboard.

“Some. And jazz. I get to take a couple of music classes, at least this year.”

Nico wondered if Maki realized how robotic she sounded, and how laced through with sadness her mood was as she talked about her family.

“Hey, Nishikino…”

“Maki.”

“Maki. Play for Nico sometime. Nico loves singing. My dad always said I should go on American Idol.”

“Sorry.” Maki twisted a curl of hair, “I don’t play those kind of songs.”

Maki obviously just needed to know more about Nico, which was Nico’s favorite topic. “Nico is multifaceted. We can do Ella and Count Basie, if you want. With the time you save not practicing your serve.”

Nico winked, her multifaceted ruby eyes cheerful pulls as she hummed. Maki found herself intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nico will be your personal tennis coach to make sure you improve.”

“Not necessary.” Maki leaned back to signal the waiter. Time to start the main course.

A/N: Another AU Yeah August entry, college rivals was requested and the Olympics put me in a sports mood. Planning another chapter.

Still taking requests.

#NicoMaki #Love Is For Losers #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #au yeah august #AUYEAHAUGUST21 #tennis #rivals #college

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cirrius-akiyo · 5 years ago

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KALEIDOSCOPE MIND

-Sequel to "Hold On (Let's Go Home)" & "Unpack the Baggage"-

____

Eddie has been told that the journey of recovery for his husband is a long one. Buck is still at various state of consciousness, drugged up to the point that he is befuddled in his wake or in and out of nightmare fueled doze.

They are still far from passing the crucial point in determining whether Buck will come out of this without deficit or not. Everyday is a waiting game for them.

Everytime Buck is awake, he will just simply look at Eddie as if he is trying to commit Eddie into his memory. Not a single word has come out from his mouth, just small smiles that have carved his lips and occasional hums. Eddie tries to convince himself that Buck needs the rest. That his brain has been injured and it will take some time to heal.

Eddie just want his husband back. They haven't really talk about the cursed night. Maybe it is his selfish desire to avoid anymore guilt and continue living on knowing that he might be the cause of his husband's death, but Eddie really despise the universe as much as himself for putting Buck in this state. He is so terrified to think that there's a possibility that Buck will die with the thought of Eddie's infidelity to be the last thing on his mind.

Their family and friends have come and go, providing neverending support and encouragement to both of them although he can feel like they are directed to him more than Buck. Carla has been bringing Chris from time to time, letting the boy to cuddle up with his Buck. Between the two of them, he feels like Chris is the pillar of strength that's supporting Eddie from crumbling down now that his foundation is currently fighting for his life in hospital bed.

Holding his husband limp hand in his grip, Eddie sometimes think that maybe...just maybe Buck doesn't want to wake up into this reality. That maybe Eddie had hurt him so bad that it pains him to wake up. Maybe Buck is happy to stay in the solace his mind had created.

"Lover of mine

Maybe we'll take some time

Kaleidoscope mind

Gets in the way

Hope and I pray

Darling, that you will stay

Butterfly lies

Chase them away

Hmm"

///

Eddie is at his side, thumbing the beautiful birthmark that he has comes to love while whispering soothing words into Buck's ears. Buck looks peaceful today and he's so beautiful like that despite the garish surrounding.

"I love you, Evan and I've missed you. I've missed you in our bed, in our home sweetheart." Eddie murmurs to the back of Buck's hand. The house seems like it has lose its colour. Chris had since been staying with Abuela or Carla and Eddie had went back only once to pack a bag for them.

The mind is a complicated thing, Eddie tries to ingrain the mantra into his belief. Buck is scheduled to be transferred out from ICU in day five post surgery. Today is day four of his stay.

Suddenly Buck's hand twitch in Eddie's hold, just like he had done sometimes before. Eddie is expecting to see another bout of Buck silently gazing at him while still swimming in the haze of sleep like he always do in his waking. What Eddie doesn't expect is for the hand to continue twitching and Buck's whole body suddenly jerking in an awful uncoordinated movement.

Seizure, his mind supplied. Buck is having a seizure. Eddie screams for help to the doctors outside while pleading for the twitching to stop. All the little progress Buck has made now might as well be useless.

Doctors and nurses come spilling into the room with one of them pushing Eddie out to the corridor. After a while, the heinous jerking stop and his husband is wheeled out of the room.

"Where are you taking him? Is he okay?" Eddie tries to follow through when a nurse stopped him from doing so.

"We'll do everything in our power to help him," the nurse said, not really a promise.

Just like that, Eddie is left alone again to wait. Unable to follow to where his husband is going.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

Buck had suffered another small ruptured aneurysm and now they are back to square one, maybe even backward. Now he is on ventilator again and just like that the timer restarts.

Eddie feels like they were hurdled back ten yards with every ten steps forward they took.

Their family and friends have come running when he told them the news, preparing for the worst.

Chris is a welcomed weight on his lap that is doing a great job at keeping Eddie grounded. While Eddie's one hand is keeping Chris steady on his thighs, the other is playing around Buck's wedding ring between his nimble fingers.

Both weight assuring his tired mind that Buck will come back from this. He must be...he should be because Eddie doesn't know what will happen to him and Chris if he doesn't. Shannon's death had been devastating but Buck... No, he will not let his mind spiraling down there.

Instead, Eddie let his memory drifts to the moment Buck had said yes. The twinkle of his eyes can easily light up the highest skyscraper there is. Eddie knew then that he had made among the best decision in his life at that exact instant. And the twinkles make their appearance again when Buck walked down the aisle with Bobby giving him away. But the twinkles were even brighter when the judge decreed Chris' adoption paper.

The twinkles never really stop. Buck keeps showing them in different ways. When he calls them for dinner. When Chris hums in delight with every bite. When Chris says his goodnight. When Eddie compliments Buck's new shirt or sweater. When Eddie says the 'I love you's.

What he would give in order to see those bright twinkles again.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

///

"S'hurt." Buck whines into Eddie's soothing caress. He stubbornly shuts his eyes close with a hand, sluggishly trying to block whatever light flashing at him.

"I know sweetheart, but Dr. Stevenson needs to test your cognitive functions so they will know you're okay." Eddie tries to comfort his distressed husband. Light sensitivity is to be expected but it still hurt Eddie to see Buck constantly flinching in pain.

"Alright Evan, can you tell us your full name again?" Dr. Stevenson then proceed to ask.

Buck huff in annoyance. Why can't they leave him alone to sleep? He already told them his name yesterday. He's so tired, why can't they see that?

"Evan..." Buck tries. Huh. Weird. He should know his name. "Diaz...uh," Buck's face contorted in panic as he tries to jog his memory. "...Buck." He cries in frustration. He should remember his name. Why can't he remember his name?

"Hey, hey Evan. It's okay if you can't remember now. You'll get it right soon." Eddie calms his upset husband while Buck kept whimpering in anguish.

Despite the initial scares, Buck's prognosis has been quite promising. He's off the ventilator and has been moved out from the ICU relatively quick. It took him some time to properly speak and even longer to open his eyes without flinching.

Most of the times he will be asleep, passed out from exhaustion from doing simple cognitive exercises. He is still experiencing memory gap and fogginess but that is all to be expected. His motor function is also improving despite the mild numbness.

"Eddie, m'scared." His voice barely a whisper. Confusion lacing his whole face. His head feels heavy and the fatigue just doesn't seem to go away.

"Come here." Eddie slides into the hospital bed, wary of the wires and IV snaking around Buck. Buck automatically latched himself to Eddie's side while Eddie wipes some stray tears that are staining Buck's cheek away.

"Tired. Hurt." Buck sniffles brokenly, face nuzzling deeper into Eddie's neck.

"I know. I know. But you are doing so much better, sweetheart." Eddie gingerly tracing patters on Buck's back, feeling the warm puff of breath cradling his own neck.

Comfortable silence slowly stretched between them with Buck is finally at the edge of sleep. Eddie pulls Buck tighter into his embrace, anchoring Buck to his chest.

"Don'wanna forget you n'Chris," Buck mumbles, already half asleep.

It never gets easier to see your supposedly strong and healthy husband broke down in tears for not remembering his own name. At how he was defeated by his own mind.

"Lover of mine

I know you're colorblind

I watched the world fall from your eyes

Ooh

All my regrets

And things you can't forget

Light them all up

Kiss them goodbye"

///

After three weeks of camping at the hospital, Buck is finally home. Little by little, the colours are coming back to their little house.

Buck amazingly had come out relatively unscathed after two brain surgeries aside from frequent dizziness, mild exhaustion and occasional numbness.

Abuela has moved in with them temporarily despite Buck's protest, arguing that Carla is still going to be there from time to time and that he'll not be left alone for more than one hour at most. That Chris is also capable to call for help if anything (God forbids) happen.

Meanwhile, Eddie has returned back to work albeit reluctantly. Shifts, long or short are never the same without Buck sitting next to him in the rig or at dinner table. He was mulling over some chores when suddenly his phone pings with new notification. With Buck stuck at home, Eddie never lets his phone out of sight in case if emergency.

The content of the notification put a wide grin on his face. It was a shaky image of Buck sleeping on the couch while holding what seems like Eddie's t-shirt from last night. Which Eddie knows has been put into the laundry basket. Eddie can't really make out the details of Buck's features with the image being so blurry. Not that he'll tell Abuela that if he wants to keep receiving them in the future.

As for now, he has another six hours to go before he can go back to cuddle his awaiting husband.

///

The house is silent when Eddie returns with darkness washing over every corner, save for the night light coming from Chris' room.

Naturally, Eddie skips over to Chris' room first to check on his son and found him safely tucked in bed, deep in sleep. A soft smile cracked on his lips.

He then proceeds to check on Abuela who is residing in the guest room. Abuela is making a habit of leaving the bed room door cracked open a little, in case Buck or Chris need her.

Satisfied, Eddie slowly enters into his and Buck's bedroom, tip toeing on his feet as to avoid disrupting his sleeping husband. Instead, Eddie is met with an empty room. Confused, he checks the bathroom but only to find it unoccupied.

Worry starting to creep into his gut when the couch in the living room is also vacant. He double check to confirm Buck's jeep is still parked beside his truck.

Eddie is ready to tear down the house and even the street to find Buck when from the corner of his eyes, he can see the light in the backyard patio is on.

Lo and behold; there lies Buck, sleeping on the patio swing, snuggled between a thick blanket and fluffy pillow. The book he was reading long forgotten on the wooden deck. Eddie can't help from smiling.

Another side effect that come out from this is Buck's ability to fall asleep almost anywhere at anytime seems to be amplified.

He's lucky the night is not as chilly as usual or he'll get a nasty scolding from Abuela (and Carla, even Athena and Maddie, Hen included, oh and not to forget Bobby's disapproval and Chim's teasing) if he's able to get a cold cause he 'foolishly' slept outside instead in their warm bed.

Eddie steps forward to his husband, expertly avoiding any creaking wooden planks before kneeling in front of the slumbering man. He can't help himself but to stroke the soft curls casing Buck's face. Days without any products bring about the glorious wave of hair. Buck needs a haircut sooner than later, or he'll fuss over his hair being unmanageable.

"Evan." Eddie calls softly, trying to pull Buck out of his sleep.

"Hmm." Buck ends up snuggling even deeper under the cocoon.

"Let's go to bed, darling." Eddie coaxes.

"Don'wanna."

"I promise you, you'll regret it tomorrow." Eddie threatens passively.

"But it's so comf'able, Eddie." Buck whines, all bleary-eyed.

Eddie sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. Buck can be stubborn if he wants to, no matter how adorable he might look doing it.

Gathering all of his might, Eddie scoops up Buck, still swaddled in his blanket. Surprisingly, no protest is coming out from his husband. Rather, Buck nestles his face into Eddie's chest while his hands embracing Eddie's neck like a koala. Eddie can't stop but to notice how much weight has Buck lost. They'll work on that later.

Eddie then cautiously deposit Buck onto their bed, fixing the blanket and fluffing his pillow. Just like that, Buck is off to his dream land again.

Buck is a constant ball of energy. Bright, bold and loud. Seeing him sleeping so much is disheartening even though Eddie knows he needs it.

Encassed in the deafening silence of the night, Eddie chest tightens whenever he thinks about how he almost lost this. Sense of dread envelopes him everytime he remembers how Buck almost slipped from his hold.

Pulling Buck tighter against his embrace, Eddie renews his wedding vows silently under his breath.

"Dance around the living room

Lose me in the sight of you

I've seen the red, I've seen the blue

Take all of me

Lead to where your secrets are

Where we've been a thousand times

Swallow every single lie

Take all of me"

///

They are in the kitchen, trying to decide on dinner now that Abuela has returned back to her house. Not before leaving lengthy strict instructions for both of them with quarter of them related to their 'rumpy-pumpy'. "That boy needs his rest, Edmundo." She had quipped before leaving.

Giving his husband a quick glance, Eddie feels like it's the time to address the elephant in the room.

"Evan, we haven't exactly talk about that night." Eddie starts, trying to fish out Buck's attention, whose face currently deep inside the freezer trying to formulate the course of dinner.

Buck closes the fridge and slowly turns to face Eddie, expressionless. Eddie can't help but to reminisce how Buck's face was frozen on that fateful night. Tingling sensation suddenly wash over his whole being.

"I know you were in pain, perhaps still are but...please tell me how can I make it up to you." Eddie continues when Buck remains silent. He then delicately pulls Buck waist towards him, embracing into the warmth.

After a beat, Buck lets out a deep breath, returning Eddie's hug and settling against his chest.

"I was angry at you Eddie, I'm not gonna lie." Buck starts. That got Eddie all wide eyed. He tries to loosen the hug, but Buck keeps him at his place.

"When I was under, I thought about how Ana could replace me in your and Chris' life." Buck whispers into the crook of Eddie's neck.

"How easy for her to fit it in. How easy for Chris to love her. How easy for you to love her. How she's able to give you a child or two if you want to. How perfect the picture will be. How easy I am to be forgotten." Buck forlornly confess. The ominous shadow of his mind is not some place inviting.

Eddie frowns with guilt and shame but as he tries to say something, he is quickly cut by Buck.

"But then, I woke up to your voice, your hands warm against mine. And when I am able to see, watching you sitting there beside me, all of my insecurities fly away. I know I must have look horrible but you still stay. Laying in the hospital bed is not exactly sexy, you know." Buck chuckles, tightening his hold against Eddie's strong back.

Eddie laughs lightly but it was hard to imagine how Buck must have felt at that time. Confused and in pain. Unable to control his body and mind.

Eddie then slowly moves his hand upwards to cup Buck's face, short stubble soft against his palms.

Gazing into the baby blues, Eddie can see the uncertainty storming under the irises. Eddie tenderly brush the bottom of Buck's lips with his. "Evan, no matter what condition you'll be in the future, I promise you, I'll stay. I've made a mistake and I'm going to make it right by you if you let me." Another soft kiss lingers.

Eddie's fingers later find themselves cupping Buck's neck and Buck melts into the kiss. Before they know it, they keep kissing like their lives depend on it.

"I actually thought if I was killing you with my confession. Whether it was better if I just keep my mouth shut." Eddie admits a bit later, with their foreheads against each other fighting for a breather.

"Hey, don't do that to yourself. If anything, I'm partially to blame. I've been ignoring the signs, dismissing them as stress or lack of sleep." Buck tries to balm Eddie's guilt. "And it's better for the news to come out from your rather than hearing it from someone else."

Nevertheless, Eddie still can't forget how limp his husband body was laying against him in the station's locker room. At how pale his husband has been. No matter how hard Eddie tried to rouse him, Buck's eyes had remained shut.

Easy silence washed over them, swaying together in a tight embrace to the mute music only they can hear.

"Evan, I am sorry."

"I know."

Eddie paused. "No, seriously. I am so fucking sorry."

Buck smiles fondly. "And I seriously fucking know it."

"Just don't do it again." Buck parroted what Eddie had previously said to him with a sly grin. Oh God, the sexual tension back then had been overbearing.

Just like that, Eddie feels like the axis of his world sets to right again, spinning gracefully. Not as halted or indented as before.

"I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made that mistake

If my name never fell off your lips again

I know it'd be such a shame

When I take a look at my life

And all of my crimes

You're the only thing that I think I got I right

I'll never give you away

'Cause I've already made

Already made that mistake"

(Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer)

#cirrius akiyo's bunkdump #buddie fanfiction #buddie #buddie fic #eddie x buck #buck x eddie #911 fics #911 fic #911 fanfic #Rambler not Writer #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #songfic

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fangbites · 4 years ago

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Who: Felix With: Tate ( @sxncerelyme ) Verse: TBD

Felix knew he looked like shit.

The thing was, it had been a long week. And an even longer month. Moving cross country kind of did that, he supposed; and so did constantly juggling both reassuring your clingy older brother that you were fine and forbidding him from moving here after you. Riel meant well, he was just… well. Codependent. They both were. But Riel didn’t really see that as something that needed to be worked on or improved, and Felix- part of him didn’t give a shit, but part of him was just… tired. Mostly, he’d wanted to escape the shadows that lingered over them both. He couldn’t even remember his father, really; Riel could, but to Felix he was just this man with a blurry voice and a soft voice and even softer bloodsoaked hands, telling him not to come out from where he was hiding and then never telling him anything ever again.

Cheers for childhood trauma.

But to the point, he’d come here to escape the ghosts of his past and all that poetic bullshit. There were very few things he wouldn’t have accepted as a trade for that; somehow, actual ghosts hadn’t really registered on his list of possibilities.

It was an ancient, condemned building in a sleepy town in Georgia; likely with a family history as gruesome and despicable as his own, and in hindsight it only made sense for it to be haunted up the wazoo. They weren’t particularly malevolent ghosts, though the one that liked to wail out near that old dried up well made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Mostly, they were the ghost equivalent of spited housecats, tearing down curtains, knocking shit off any flat surface they could, making loud noises in the dead of night for no fucking reason and flinging plates everywhere. That last one didn’t have quite the effect he assumed they wanted given that he was still living that post- move paper plate life, but it was still fucking annoying and a waste of his money. Combined with that and the utility bills rocketing because they wouldn’t quit messing with the thermostat or lights or the fucking water, he might have a lot of bloody family inheritance to spend but Christ, he’d be going bankrupt within six months of living there.

So he was here, in Atlanta, biting the bullet and looking for a fix for his problems.

It was an odd feeling, this; despite it being one he was used to. By nature, witches were inclined to seek out a coven, seek out a family to thrive in and nurture magical bonds. But having a lineage that was considered to be the worst of the worst and a black mark on all witchkind sort of put a damper on actually acquiring any of that, not to mention the fact that well, saying he and his brother had a complicated relationship with magic was putting it lightly. It wasn’t like a wolfpack, where anyone could find a way to contribute; if you weren’t adding to the strength of the coven you were detracting from it, and with too many bodies in a coven- that became harder to handle, harder to lead, harder to cohesively concentrate. Best to keep it small but powerful, packing a punch. Needless to say, a witch that couldn’t use magic would fall under the category of detracting from the coven and even if he hadn’t been undesirable on the basis that he was a Tabor he would have been because of the curse.

But it was fine. He’d started a fucking garden, fruit trees and all, and he’d built himself a goddamn chicken coop despite curious, irritating ghost’s interference. He’d made the executive decision that he wasn’t going to care if he never used magic again, he just- he just wanted to exist, at this point. He wanted to be.

‘Wanting to be’ had evolved into ‘wanting to be- without ghosts’, but, whatever. That was why he was here in this little magical shop equivalent of a speakeasy, hoping for a pain-free solution to solving his spirit infestation.

His first impression was that it was busy; little pings zapping at his senses every which way. Magical items in particular had a way of yearning for an owner, calling to a witch if they weren’t otherwise bound; and before the door had even fully closed behind Felix, he knew this place was the real deal. Not some kitschy tourist trap type bullshit. If he’d been anyone else and he’d had the opportunity, he would have loved to browse, would’ve loved to discover what oddities and secrets were scattered about this crowded shop. But he was here on a mission, and just hoping to get through it without any goddamn trouble.

His favored attire had an added bonus of not being anything even remotely threatening. In his opinion, at least. Black and white Adidas slides, a very worn, very comfortable black hoodie with the hood down, black, loose- fitting threadbare sweatpants and prominent, exhausted dark bags below his eyes. He’d made some kind of attempt at finger- combing his hair, but it didn’t look like he’d done anything more than that, just a mess of black strands and brown roots atop his head. Hopefully nothing memorable, but it didn’t really matter. Ideally this was meant to be his only trip here ever, and he’d get to live out his quiet, ghost free, magicless life.

What more could anyone want?

He shuffled over to the counter, pausing to blink foolishly at the pretty man behind it. Oh, what the fuck. Couldn’t it have been some crone with a red box- dye gone wrong and too- long fingernails? Why’d it have to be a gorgeous twenty- something with the softest goddamn eyes Felix had ever seen and a distracting few freckles on his neck and cheek? Felix stared for a moment, suddenly wishing he’d just stayed at home with his ghosts. “...Sorry,” He said eventually, flushing dark and closing his eyes, scrubbing a hand across his face. No, I don’t get out much, what gave that away? Christ. He exhaled, scratched at his cheek with black- painted fingernails, and accepted the fact that there was nothing he could do but press on with what he’d come here for, terrible impression and gay dismay aside.

“What would you recommend for a ghost problem?” He asked, and then paused, rethinking the conversation slightly. Exorcise them, cast them out, et cetera- things that weren’t exactly options for him personally. “Pretend I’m a human, and I’ve got this horde of annoying but old ghosts who haven’t moved on and aren’t interested in communicating any unfulfilled bullshit. What would you tell me to do? I mean, I know coming into a magic shop and asking for non- magical alternative solutions sounds exponentially stupid, but… not a ton of fuckin’ options for where to go with ghost advice around here, either.”

#v: tbd #ic: felix #ft: tate #talix

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managementsofthelp · 4 years ago

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Essential Aspects Of Change Management

When a creation atmosphere is in a well-known operating condition, the only trait that can change that condition for much better or much worse is a change, either organized or even unplanned.

Creation failures can be pricey as well as devastating, thus change control in project management is actually a trendy topic. Change control implies taking advantage of a standard technique to use changes to vital atmospheres as a means to guard against threat and also ensure necessary personnel know the implications. It is actually particularly typical in sizable monetary settings where down time can easily lead to loss of service or irreparable harm to the business credibility. If you have a question on project control software, after that the response is SOP is a standard operating procedure that delivers comprehensive, in black and white guidelines on how to execute a routine organization task and also clarify the method being explained.

Relying on the complication, change management could be cumbersome and also opportunity consuming, or taken into consideration red tape by cold IT team. However, appropriately implemented change control in pharma returns safety benefits to IT specialists as well, since all ramifications are better vetted, the work is actually signed off beforehand by several approvers, as well as if traits go awry the blame game could be avoided.

Important elements of change control process

Plan the change

All aspects of the change must be actually planned, whether it's as simple as "reboot the hosting server" or as structure as improving regulation on a production unit. Just how will it be actually implemented and also by whom? Take into consideration the ancillary details of the change and also include these to the program at the same time, like innovation notice of completion customers pertaining to the short-term unavailability of certain bodies or services, or interacting provider support if doubtful along with a particular method.

youtube

Estimation threat, and also which hosts or even services will be actually affected

Inquire yourself: "What could go wrong? What will the effect be on related units?" If you are actually updating an Energetic Domain name operator which other systems rely upon for user authentication, will these systems be unattainable.

Feature verification of excellence

An effective change is actually greater than simply rebooting a server as well as pinging it to confirm it came back up. Calculate what will definitely constitute a prosperous change, including seeing to it the necessary services packed, there are actually no mistakes, as well as everything is actually otherwise functioning as anticipated.

Develop a backout plan.

If something goes awry, one of the very most important items of recommendations on this listing is actually to develop a program to turn around the change( s). This may be as basic as reverting or uninstalling a spot to the use of the prior SSL certification.

Examine the procedure

In management software structured environments adjustments are actually carried out on exam systems, at that point development or even stage makers, after that manufacturing units last. This utilizes a set of layers therefore unpleasant change results may be pinpointed and addressed just before they go prime-time television.

Develop a devoted change opportunity home window.

There is actually certainly never a good time for recovery time, but there are opportunities which are less impactful than others. When considering a change on a details unit or even set of systems, figure out the duration during the course of which these are actually least utilized. It may be 10 p.m., 2 a.m., high noon, on a specific day of the full week, etc. Program the change window for this duration.

Appoint team responsibilities

Establish that ought to be actually responsible for which activities in development as well as delegate them to the change process if the change might involve personnel coming from a number of divisions. This might consist of evaluating the results of the change, confirming the application thereof, or even assisting with fixing in case of an issue.

Document the change method through an ask for

Write the entire details of the change featuring the planning, confirmation steps, backout strategy, testing end results, time home window as well as appointed personnel. This will totally record the procedure as well as, best of all, ensures it can effortlessly be actually repeated later rather than having to go via the entire strategy repeatedly.

Leverage a number of sets of eyes for testimonial as well as commendation.

Possess the controlling change reviewed through managers and also peers equally to evaluate it, seek prospective risks, and accept if valid. Peers may find any type of specialized difficulties or even achievable renovations to the program, and supervisors can easily sign off on the change to ensure all impacted teams will certainly understand what is to take place.

If a failure occurs, Conduct a post-mortem

Regardless of your best shots, an outage may however take place anyhow. When the circumstance is settled perform a post-mortem to identify what took place.

One valid point of insight which happens without thinking: workers might go rogue as well as go around the change control, specifically in the beginning if this is actually a brand-new execution. Be actually prepped to place managements in position to keep track of for unanticipated adjustments.

#sop #what is sop #change control

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pingcall-getlead · 2 years ago

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7 Strategies for Home Improvement Companies to Generate Leads

If you are a professional contractor that specialises in house remodelling, an interior designer, or a freelance handyman, you might be asking how to create leads for home improvement jobs. Small businesses frequently engage with clients on social media, but if the majority of your transactions take place offline rather than online, you might feel left behind.

Not to worry! A home remodelling business can easily be included in digital marketing strategies. You can now easily Buy Home Improvement Leads for your business. Learn more about how to create leads for home improvement companies if you're used to a word-of-mouth paradigm, how to establish your online presence, and how you can generate home improvement leads for your business. Ping Calls to buy home improvement leads.

Discover Lead Generation Techniques for Home Improvement Contractors

Finding leads for home renovation projects can be challenging because word-of-mouth is a major source of business for contractors, interior designers, painters, and other professionals in the home improvement sector and buy home improvement leads. The more you produce, the more people who might hire you will see it, and the more homeowners will recommend you to their friends.

You can see a "feast or famine" pattern where you get a lot of quotes, jobs, and leads in a short period of time, and then nothing. Your home improvement company's success or failure may depend on your ability to create leads during a lead-generation drought.

7 suggestions for generating leads for remodelling and home improvement businesses

How can you get leads for house remodelling now that you know why you should keep generating leads? To locate potential customers who are interested in your home improvement services and are most likely prepared to make a purchase, take into account the following strategies.

1. Regular Blogging and SEO-Friendly Content

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2. Find Your Domain

Once you've chosen your home improvement topic, produce a number of blog posts using your specialist expertise to increase your SEO in this area and draw potential customers. If you're having trouble coming up with ideas for generating leads for home renovation clients, think about what you do best or frequently for clients and start there.

3. Market the Right Audience

Additionally, you generally won't draw many consumers in areas where renting is more common than buying because tenants typically aren't allowed to make changes to their premises. Sell your skills and any relevant knowledge about house remodelling to those who are most likely to hire you.

4. Create Local Leads for Home Improvement Through Online Ads

It's essential to update your blog frequently or think about using a blog writing subscription service if you're thinking about using this method to generate leads for home remodelling. This will guarantee that when visitors click over to your site, they view current, seasonally appropriate material.

5. Consider Customer Reviews

A fantastic technique to get leads for home remodelling is by using client reviews of your items. Written evidence that you've exceeded the expectations of your previous customers can be quite effective at drawing in new customers when combined with your content and descriptions of the services you provide. A star ranking system could also be useful.

6. Deliver business cards or flyers to the neighbourhoods you want to reach.

This tip won't force you to employ digital marketing strategies, but you'll still need to take just as much care, if not more, to make sure that the information on your flyer or business card is correct, timely, and proofread. Prior to hiring a contractor or home improvement professional, decide which neighbourhood in your area is most likely to do so in the coming months. After that, make a mailing list to which you can send flyers, business cards, or other marketing materials. You might also approach each household one-on-one to discuss your services.

7. Make Use Of Social Media To Engage Locals

The greatest method to stand out from the local competitors may be to have a professional website and a solid content plan in place: Potential customers may be more inclined to choose you over another local contractor they are unfamiliar with if your expertise in home renovation is publicly displayed and your website is consistently updated with informative content.

Rundown

The first step you should take if you're stuck trying to figure out how to generate leads for Home Improvement Leads businesses is to develop a solid content strategy.

In order to create leads and increase traffic to your website, we can assist you in developing and implementing a professional affiliate strategy through lead generation. SOURCE URL: https://medium.com/@pingcall69/7-strategies-for-home-improvement-companies-to-generate-leads-37351f28c4c9

#Ping Calls #Buy Home Improvement Leads

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violetsystems · 4 years ago

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Tesla’s challengers in China are revving up their output of electric cars, as manufacturing mostly returns to normal in the first major economy to emerge from coronavirus lockdown, helping the country extend its lead in the worldwide market for new-energy vehicles (NEVs).

At NIO’s joint-venture factory in the Anhui provincial capital of Hefei, production has stepped up by 50 per cent, where 30 of the all-electric ES6 five-seat sports utility vehicle (SUV) and the bigger ES8 premium SUV roll off the production line every hour, putting the carmaker on path to make 120,000 electric cars a year. Further south in the Guangdong provincial city of Zhaoqing, Xpeng is revving up to finish 150,000 NEVS a year at its own brand new factory.

NIO and Xpeng are two of the three US-listed Chinese NEV makers hot on the heels of the industry leader Tesla in a market where sales could more than double to 3 million units a year by 2025. NIO’s November sales more than doubled to 5,291 cars from last year, while Xpeng’s more than quadrupled to 4,224 cars. Tesla, which delivered 12,785 Model 3 cars in October made at its Gigafactory 3 in Shanghai, is yet to unveil its November sales data.

“As the volume of orders becomes bigger and bigger, we will able to increase our production,” said Victor Gu, general manager of NIO’s Advanced Manufacturing Centre, during a recent visit to the factory in Hefei. “Our plant has become [an internet celebrity] because of the high degree of automation and best technology used, which attracted a lot of visits by government officials and industry executives.”

A view of NIO's Hefei Advanced Manufacturing Centre in the Anhui provincial capital in eastern China on December 2020, with semi-finished ES8 all-electric sports-utility vehicles in December 2020. Photo: Thomas Yau.Growth at NIO and Xpeng has been explosive since their establishment. NIO, founded in 2014 in Shanghai by entrepreneur William Li, didn’t begin selling its first car until 2017 when it delivered six units of its EP9 all-electric sports coupe.

The carmaker, which raised US$1.2 billion in New York in 2018, was valued at almost US$62 billion when its stock soared ninefold to a record US$57.20 in November, worth more than the century-old Ford Motor. Xpeng, listed in New York since August, also surpassed Ford in value last month.

Built in 2016 with its partner JAC Motors, NIO’s Hefei plant covers 560,000 square metres (7.18 million sq ft) and employs 2,000 workers and 200 engineers. The highly automated factory uses 307 robots to assemble the ES6 and ES8. The seven-seat ES8 flagship, which sells from 407,500 yuan (US$62,389) after subsidy, has the highest usage of aluminium among all cars produced worldwide, NIO said.

Xpeng, also established in 2014 in Guangzhou, began producing its G3 SUV in 2018 through a contract manufacturer in central China. A year after production began, the carmaker rolled out its 10,000th electric car in June 2019. The companyhas built its own factory in Zhaoqing, using 903 acres of 3,000 acres of land.

“In the future, of course, we hope to produce more than that depending on market demand,” said Xpeng’s vice-president Jiang Ping during a recent tour of the carmaker’s factory in Zhaoqing. Jiang joined Xpeng from NIO, where he was a vice-president in manufacturing and operations, to be closer to his family in southern China.

The carmaker, invested by this newspaper’s owner Alibaba Group Holding, produces all its the P7 mid-sized electric car at the Zhaoqing assembly, employing 1,000 people, including 800 on the production line. Xpeng’s factory in Zhaoqing city in Guangdong province in November 2020. Photo: Iris Ouyang

The battle for supremacy in China’s new-energy vehicle market began in earnest after Tesla started domestic production of its bestselling Model 3 car in December 2019. In October, Tesla cut the starting price of the Model 3 by 8 per cent to 249,900 yuan, ratcheting up pressure on its Chinese rivals.

NIO, Xpeng and Li Auto have continued to post increasing sales thanks to government incentives encouraging the use of green cars.

The use of NEVs could accelerate in the coming years, accounting for 20 per cent of the market by 2025 from less than 5 per cent last year, Nick Lai, a JPMorgan analyst said in a research note on Wednesday.

NIO is geared to meet any increase in future demand for its cars, said Gu, who joined the start-up in 2016 from Volvo Cars where he had previously been the director of manufacturing engineering.

“Production will no longer be a bottleneck for NIO’s future growth,” he said.

Xpeng said its production capacity will further jump in 2023 when its second fully-owned production base in Guangzhou is expected to start production.

“Investors have priced in their optimism about the start-ups’ growth potential, but they need to display their production and marketing capabilities to prove their fundamentals can support the elevated prices,” said Gao Shen, an independent analyst covering manufacturing in Shanghai.

“In 2021, the companies are supposed to present improved performance to justify their frothy market values.”

#transport and logistics

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bdgthinks · 5 years ago

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The Two Sides of “The Two Sides of Singapore, As Seen By A Food Delivery Rider”, As Seen By A Food Delivery Rider

https://medium.com/@bdgthinksShort pre-amble: Just as how the original Rice article is just the opinion of one writer, what I’m writing below is likewise, just the opinion of mine alone. Also, my opinions are based on my experience working with Deliveroo while Yusuf worked for Grab Food so there may be some differences between the pay structure, zone distances and other company-specific policies.

I was clicking past Instagram stories yesterday afternoon, about to take a nap, when I saw a friend share this recently posted Rice Media article. Part photo journal, part commentary on the gig economy, Singapore’s class divide, and how income inequality is growing more apparent as we adapt to the ever-evolving Covid-19 situation? Sign me the hell up.

All images courtesy of Ricemedia.co, Yusuf Abdol Hamid, or myself

20 minutes, a few raised eyebrows, and many heated texts later – I reluctantly abandoned my plans to nap because I read some many things in this article (which I highly recommend you read first before reading on!) that I disagree with profoundly.

Before I start, I want to offer my appreciation to Yusuf (the narrator), Boon Ping (the editor/author), and Rice Media for publishing this piece that will help many understand the oft-overlooked issue of social/income inequality in an engaging and accessible manner. My misgivings towards some of Yusuf’s opinions notwithstanding, the general sentiment towards this article is extremely positive and has done what I believe every great article should do, provoke thought and inspire critical thinking towards the status quo!

A smattering of positive feedback to the original article

What I appreciated most about the article is encapsulated by joce_zhang’s comment, that it’s an important reminder to be kinder to people – regardless.

However, I couldn’t help but find it slightly troubling that Yusuf and Boon Ping (the editor) seemed to have oversimplified these issues and reduced the stakeholders to caricatures: the rich as the Monopoly Man; and the tireless ‘seen by many as a dead-end job’ delivery couriers as a Dickensian orphan, counting pennies and agonizing over whether they ‘deserve’ a Zinger.

I worry that one unintended consequence of this article is that some ways social inequality is highlighted may lead to reinforcement of the divide rather than dissolution.

During my Summer holidays in 2018, I became attracted to the idea of working part-time as a food courier cyclist as in my mind I saw it as being paid to just cycle and listen to podcasts. Since then, I’ve been an on-off Deliveroo cyclist during the shorter holidays or whenever I needed a little bit of extra pocket money.

In past the two years, I’ve earned exactly $4081.63 from making deliveries (inclusive of bonuses) and dividing it by a conservative $15/h rate, I’ve worked for around 272 hours or about 700 deliveries. split about 60/40 between private properties and HDB flats.

And I guess it’s also partly because of my different experience working in food couriering the past two years that made me feel so much discontent while reading Yusuf’s article. In these 400-odd deliveries to private residences (or heck, in any of my deliveries), I don’t recall having once been treated unnecessarily rudely, aggressively or dismissively by any of the stakeholders I interact with in the job – restaurant servers and managers, condo security management and customers alike.

What I have experienced actually are customers that have tipped me for my efforts - especially ones who live in fairly inaccessible areas, and (during this circuit breaker period) offered me a snack or a cold drink to drop off their deliveries; security guards who ask me how my day was and if I’ve had my lunch or dinner; and restaurant staff who invite me to have a seat in the restaurant while I wait for my order.

Some treats from kind customers

Even when I had made a mess of the customer’s order from their order roiling around during a bumpy 15-minute bike ride (entirely my fault of course!), I’ve never heard anything more than an entirely deserved ‘tsk’ at the disappointment of having half of their pho soup ending up in the plastic bag instead of the bowl – and even then these tsk’s are far and few between!

And it is (again, solely from my own personal experience) where I felt that Yusuf could have been cherry-picking the worst examples from his own experience to make a point. While service industry personnel are no doubt severely underappreciated and that should be improved as a whole, I feel that such blatant incidents are the exception rather than the rule.

My point is: the world isn’t binary. Heck, even up to a year ago I was still echoing Yusuf’s entire argument and ranting rather colorfully about the injustice and discrimination of it all. Who are YOU to tell me which lift I can and cannot use?

In the pursuit of delivering a commentary on some really important social issues, I feel that it fell short by over-emphasizing the ludicrousness of the elite and failing to consider the many other factors that contributes to this problem.

For one, I thought that the annoyance projected to security guards seeing themselves as ‘a barrier between the riff-raff and their diamond-encrusted residents’ was a bit uncalled for – painting a picture of the fearsome guard – in employ of the up-in-the-air bourgeois hiding in their ivory tower, assailing an innocent courier who had the audacity to think that he had the right to take the same elevator as the residents?

But then… when we consider that most lift lobbies are a good distance from the security guard posts where the guards are stationed, it doesn’t seem so unreasonable for a guard to have to raise his voice to get his point across, right?

Being fortunate enough to live in a condo myself, I’ve sometimes felt unease in the duality that security guards experience every single day: faithful bastions in keeping residents safe, spending their days patrolling the lush, landscaped gardens and expansive feature infinity pools, but never once stepping foot into the houses they loyally guard.

And at the end of the day, clocking out to return home to an environment I assume is much less luxurious.

So why then, do Yusuf and Boon Ping deign to foster an us vs them divide, arbitrarily placing one occupation on one side of the line and another on the opposite?

How about the incredulousness towards the guy who orders a stupid $11 Dal.komm latte every day, or the Grange Road resident who only orders a single scoop of Haagen-Dazs ice cream?

Like I said, caricatures that highlight and reinforce the rich-poor divide.

Cherry-picking prevents the reader from seeing the single cups of coffee that I’ve delivered from Common Man Coffee Roasters to Tenteram Peak, the eight egg tarts from Whampoa Hawker Center to Toa Payoh. Or my dad, who lives a one-minute walk from the hawker center but still chooses to order through Grabfood because he paid for a subscription service that offers 50 free deliveries for just $10?

All these customers lived in HDB units.

As a courier, there’s nothing I appreciate more than collecting an order to find out I’m being paid $5 to cycle one block away, or reaching the restaurant to find out that a customer only ordered an easy-to-transport wrap instead of say, twelve packets of chicken rice – I’m getting paid the same amount anyway.

So yes, they’re paying our salary, so thank you.

Juxtaposition is also good and all for making a point, but is it truly accurate and representative?

The word exclusive is used a lot by Yusuf - but are those who live in a smelly HDB with the pee smell in the corridor exclusively nice, and the expat who lives in the Ardmore Park condo with the super high ceiling exclusively mean? Is it wrong to live (or aspire to live) in an exclusive private property? These are questions to be stimulated, not answers to be given.

There’s so much to pick apart, but my goal isn’t to say: I’m Right, You’re Wrong, it’s just that say that There Are Two Sides to Everything.

A brief aside on ‘fulfillment’

While I love my part-time job – paying me upwards of $20 an hour to keep fit and listen to podcasts, I’m entirely cognizant that while I’m privileged that it’s a side-hustle, a side-gig, a part-time job to me; it’s also a livelihood to tens of thousands of hardworking people out there.

Where I could turn off the app and head home when I decided I’ve earned enough in the week to eat at a new restaurant I’ve been eyeing or if it was too hot in the afternoon, most other people working my job can’t – if not, the lights may not turn on the next day.

In a comment to an earlier draft of this piece, a friend shared that it’s a privilege to be able to separate your social identities. I think it’s also a privilege to have the choice of perspective. We exercise when we’re healthy, as a hobby, or a passion. Deliverymen don’t see it that way. There is no ‘good to do’, there is only ‘must do’.

At the end of the day when the world starts to recover from Covid-19, you’re going to start getting photo and videography gigs and transition back to the white-collar world.

As for the security guard and domestic helper at Ardmore Park, the server at the Grange Road Haagen-Dazs, and the tens of thousands of for-hire drivers and delivery couriers? There’s no ‘back to normal’ – this is their normal.

In a discussion post on Yusuf’s article, a redditor referenced Maslow’s hierarchy of needs:

In the blue-collar normal, where every day is a struggle to meet the needs of financial safety and security, maybe fulfilment isn’t really an aspiration for most. In an article calling for empathy, I feel the quality slightly lacking in my reading.

A few months back I began my education into inequality in Singapore with Teo You Yenn’s seminal This Is What Inequality Looks Like. In it, the title of one of her essays especially stood out to me: Dignity Is Like Clean Air. She describes, like Yusuf does, that many blue-collar workers in the service industry always feel invisible, that people don’t respect them, that it makes them feel small. I’d like to add on to** Dignity Is Like Clean Air** with the caveat: Segregation Is Not Necessarily Dirty.

Going back to the ‘fucked up service lifts at the back for the smelly people, the non-residents and stuff’, how about we just call a spade a spade?

In restaurants, servers and chefs who have their meals there usually sit at tables near the kitchen (or even in the kitchen itself).

In airplanes, consumers have the choice to pay a much higher premium for more leg room and a more gourmet selection of food. In fancy hotels, bellboys and concierge staff have to wear stiff suits – there’s usually a dress code for guests to enter certain areas.

So, is it really that unfair, for someone who’s had the means to pay for the privilege of living in luxury, to not really want to share a lift with someone who might smell unpleasant from having spent hours cycling under the hot sun?

The service lift provides the same functionality – no one’s saying that couriers are ‘lesser people’, we’re not being asked to walk up the stairs while the ‘masters’ take the magic moving box. It wasn’t created to separate the ‘undesirables’ from the ‘desirables’ like a pre-Rosa Parks bus, and it’ll be unhealthy to think of it as such – even worse to let it fester.

To package my views into a neatly categorized box – When I’m Brandon the Deliveryman, it’s perfectly fine for a guard to request for me to take the service lift, but when I’m Brandon the Guest attending a dinner party at the same condo, no one is stopping me from taking the resident lift right?

Different day, Different fit, Same me

I still think that it’s incredibly fucked up that some employers make their helpers take a separate lift though.

But in delivering the core message – is it more helpful to frame your reflection as ‘why do some people treat their subordinates with such contempt and how can we as society hope to change it’, or to just resent the fact that ‘rich people like that la’ – and laugh and pretend we’re friends.

I guess what I’m most frustrated with about the article is that it had the potential to be so much more. It occasionally flirts with the possibility of going deeper into one issue or the other but ultimately ends up being a reflection of one privileged dude’s brief foray into an industry that many of us often take for granted.

And because there are so many issues at play, people often fall into the trap of distilling extremely complicated issues into dangerous sweeping statements, which eventually does very little for the problem in question.

Another frustration I often have towards the discourse towards social issues is that they often fail to carry a call-to-action. Okay, I’ve checked my privilege, I’ve understood that my successes in life is partly a byproduct of the wealthy family I was fortunate to being born into – now what?

A good rule of thumb that I’ve been trying to implement into my life recently is to think about the net positive or net negative an action has onto society. And hence:

To the fortunate: While it is important to understand your privilege and not take things for granted, you also don’t have to be ashamed of it. Every dollar you spend goes into the economy and is earned by someone else. So, what can you do to influence a net positive?

Be kind to everyone, be kind to everyone, be kind to everyone.

If you can, have the moral courage to call out undesirable behavior – especially if it’s someone close to you. But if you can’t – it’s okay too. Start with yourself. The world could do with less ‘you should do more’ and more ‘thank you for what you did’.

This is not exclusive to tipping service staff or offering couriers a cold drink (although it is always really welcome!). Offer a kind word to anyone you interact with. Ask the office or school janitor if they’ve had their meal yet, wish your security guard a good morning/good evening when you pass them by, clear your tray when you’re at a fast food restaurant and smile and thank the servers if you pass them by.

I promise you - these little acts of kindness will go a much longer way received than it takes you to give them.

To our everyday heroes: Your intrinsic self worth is by no means defined by how an asshole treats you. You are so, so, so much more important.

You are somebody, you are somebody, you are somebody.

In this essay, my intention is to extend the net positive that Yusuf and Rice has already generated while minimizing the net negatives it may unintentionally create by framing the issue as ‘us vs them’.

I hope that it will be seen as an addendum to Yusuf’s original piece instead of a correction. To build up on the important issues that **each and every one of us **should acknowledge and then go one step further to see how we can resolve them. I hope that reading this has provoked more questions than it gives answers. I hope that we don’t see the world as black-and-white but how things can move to a more palatable shade of grey.

Of course, my thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions here could be (and probably are) wildly ignorant and myopic, and I still have so much more to learn. So please confront me, dispute me and tell me where I’m wrong and what I don’t know.

If I have to leave you with just one takeaway, I hope everyone remembers to be kinder to people – regardless.

(You can also find me at https://medium.com/@bdgthinks!)

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notwhelmedyet · 7 years ago

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Is 'Ratchet has a nice day' a sufficient writing prompt?

yes, of course! This ficlet is called Still Waters and I’ll probably throw it on ao3 tomorrow after I edit it / after work bc I really like it. Post-war, post-LL, inexplicable happy ending with a deeply dreamlike feeling. Married Dratchet, bc that’s my speed.

The space between patients was a good one. Sunlight came into the corridor through the skylights above and soaked into his plating, doors of the examination rooms built thick and insulated so the air hung still. Ratchet let himself sit in the bench while he read through the notes on his next patient, warmth from the solar radiation loosening up his aching joints.

When he got to the examination room, his assistant was still there, bouncing on his heels as music warbled out of the speakers they’d rigged up in the corners of the room. The patient was hooked up to as many readouts as was feasible, but was still swinging his legs in time with the beat.

“Oh, hey Ratch,” Beacon said with a lazy salute. “Got you a Cybercrosis case. Skywave, this is Doctor Ratchet, he’ll be handling your case while I assist.”

Skywave smiled a little pinched smile at Ratchet. A couple years wasn’t near long enough for anyone to get used to the idea of Cybercrosis being easily curable. Ratchet could understand, still had to catch himself on the diagnosis every time. But Skywave wasn’t far along and the cure they’d been improving ever since Luna I was a perfect fit for him. Ratchet got him settled and set up in the energon filtration system, and made sure Beacon had scheduled up the follow-up appointment while he walked him through the theory of the cure. Beacon was a promising medic, Ratchet hoped he’d stick around after his apprenticeship was over. His students kept leaving to found hospitals all over the galaxy and it’d be good to have a helping hand around the clinic.

After Skywave’s appointment, Ratchet excused himself to take his mid-shift break. He was partway through a book Nautica had recommended him and he was hoping to finish it before they saw each other next. The book had a nice audio narrator, so he took a walk around the neighborhood while he listened, grabbed a few things from one of the corner store where they didn’t mind if you kept your audio feed running and limited your interactions to the business essentials. The air was swirling with sweet scents from the snack stands Drift could never resist. Ratchet didn’t feel hungry yet, so he just let all of that soak into his chemoreceptors and imagined how they’d taste.

After break, he observed Beacon on some simple cases, fixing broken limbs, replacing parts, cleaning and upgrading. It was a quiet day at the clinic, the way Ratchet liked them. He took a call from the local hospital, looking to see when he could act as lead for a fairly complicated surgery, spark chamber embrittlement. Ratchet put them on his calendar for the day after next after checking to make sure the patient wasn’t reaching the terminal stages yet. Then he had to call up First Aid and see if he still had those old case files on the embrittlement surgeries they’d attended over together. Ratchet had them somewhere, but he was still at the “dump all the files in a pile“ stage of his ongoing file organization project. He’d get to it eventually.

The night nurse, Latency, came in a few minutes early and they caught up on a few administrative things they’d been meaning to talk about. Beacon headed out while their heads were still together, going over their supply ordering calendar. Ratchet was reminded of the time with a jolt and stood up out of his seat midsentence. “I forgot—”

Latency grinned and waved him off. “Go! We can talk this over tomorrow.”

Ratchet nodded and made his way out through the waiting room, where a few patients were filling out forms with the help of Latency’s apprentice, whose name Ratchet still hadn’t memorized. They all paused to wave him goodnight as he hustled through. He stepped out into the cool blue night air, brushing invisible specks off his plating as he went. He checked his chrono and realized it wasn’t nearly as late as he’d imagined, barely two minutes over his habitual departure time. He chuckled, shaking his head at himself. Getting all flustered about being two minutes late, some things never changed.

“Hey there, handsome. You waiting for someone?” A mech strode down the walkway, hands resting loosely on his hips and a sharp-toothed smile playing on his face.

Ratchet groaned and reached out to grab Drift by the wrist and pull him close. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, smiling into the crook of Drift’s neck where Drift wouldn’t be able to see it. Drift threw his arms around Ratchet’s back, fingers tracing gentle circles on his plating.

Drift hummed agreeably. “Sure am,” he said. “You ready to go? Need anything from home?”

“I’m good,” Ratchet said.

They stood there for a long moment, nobody willing to step back first. Eventually, Drift pulled away, trailing a hand over Ratchet’s arm to catch his hand and he did. Ratchet squeezed back and smiled at Drift. Under the white streetlights, Drift’s plating practically glowed, whole and perfect. Drift caught him staring and ducked his head, biting at his lower lip in that old habit of his.

“How was your day?” Ratchet asked, starting them down the street. The storefronts on this block were bright at night, panels of light across the walkway guiding them towards the rail hub.

“It was good,” Drift said. “I like teaching, you know. It’s good.”

Ratchet liked Drift teaching too, better than the days he worked the perimeter of the city scouring the wilderness for dangerous creatures or orbital security. Drift was untethered, you couldn’t expect him to be content doing the same thing every day like Ratchet did. It was enough to ask him to stay planetside with Ratchet.

“I’d love to see you teach sometime,” Ratchet said.

“You could take a day off any time,” Drift said. “Beacon could fill in, or call up one of your old students. Or even just close the clinic for the day; it’s not like there aren’t other hospitals.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Ratchet said. The train pulled up and slid to a silent halt, doors opening into the brightly lit space. Drift and Ratchet crowded together in the back, nearly in each other’s laps, Drift’s head tilted back against Ratchet’s chest as they talked over the day and the little things that had filled it. The space filled up as they went along, packed to bursting when they hit the shore and Drift and Ratchet squeezed their way out onto the beach. There was already a crowd and music going, lights spotted along the shoreline and the moon bright above. Drift pinged out for them and immediately set out through the crowd to meet up with their friends.

Ratchet spotted Thunderclash first, a head and shoulders above the crowd even if Rung hadn’t been riding on his shoulders, laughing away. Thunders spotted Ratchet and Drift and beamed at them. The rest of the crew parted like the sea and folded them in, surrounded by a mass of patting hands and careening conversations. Someone pushed a drink in Ratchet’s hand and Thunderclash offered up a toast.

They hung close by Thunderclash, Ratchet and Drift each with one arm slung around the other’s waist as they chatted and sipped new mixes Swerve had dreamed up. Thunderclash drew out a few stories, forming worlds with his hands as he went. Eventually Rodimus rolled up, fashionably late as always. The music had picked up a driving rhythm and Rodimus came over already half dancing.

“Ratch, can I steal your conjunx for a song?” Rodimus said with a laugh, overcharged slur to his words. Ratchet rolled his optics and waved Drift on, watching as the two speedsters scooted out into the crowd of dancers. The two friends grinned at each other and twirled until they were lost in the crowd. They came back a few songs later, Rodimus clinging to Drift’s back like a sucker as Drift lurched, half collapsing under Rodimus’s weight and his uncontrollable giggles. Drift dumped him out on the sand and flopped on the ground, watching Ratchet from across the crowd.

Ratchet made his apologies to Thunders and went to his conjunx, still lying on the ground in a pose he probably thought was alluring, covered in sand. “Having fun down there?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Tons of fun,” Drift agreed. “You should pick me up, I’m tired.”

“Nah,” Ratchet said. “That’s just you trying to trick me into getting dragged into a sand wrestle with you and Rod. I know your tricks.”

“See?” Rodimus said. “I told you, he’s onto us!”

Drift pouted. “You’re no fun, Ratch.”

“I just don’t want sand in my hip joints again. Once was plenty. Twice was excessive.”

Drift shrugged, not contrite at all. With a quick roll back onto his shoulders, he threw himself back onto his feet and offered Rodimus a hand up before pressing himself up against Ratchet’s side again, sand gritty between their plating. Rodimus hooked his thumb over his shoulder, mouthing something that looked like “Finding Magnus,” as he backed into the crowd. “It’s a beautiful night,” Drift said.

“Yeah, it is,” Ratchet agreed.

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

“Of course,” Ratchet said. “How’s our favorite terror?”

“Roddy’s great,” Drift said. “He wants to take me asteroid surfing again.”

“Of course he does,” Ratchet said. “You going?”

“Said I had to check with you, I wasn’t sure if it’d conflict with our plan for the anniversary trip.”

Ratchet tipped his helm against Drift’s and rested a moment. “We’ll check when we get home. You want to find a spot to watch the show?”

They ended up sitting out on the pier, waves lapping up against their ankles. The shore was packed, mechs shoulder to shoulder as they watched the night sky. Ratchet had completely lost sight of the rest of the crew in the thick of it.

The first firework split the sky with a shockwave that sent waves slapping against the pier. Drift startled, but he was smiling when Ratchet looked over. The next explosion wasn’t any quieter, and Ratchet lowered his audial sensitivity with a wince. Fireworks were a lot louder up close, when you shot them off in atmosphere. Drift jumped again at the third blast and someone banged their knee against the back of Ratchet’s head.

He turned to Drift to ask but Drift was already speaking. “Do you want—”

“—to go home?”

He snorted and crouched on the pier, scooping Drift up into his arms as he stood. Drift wriggled and started laughing, throwing his arms around Ratchet’s neck like he thought a medic frame wasn’t capable of lifting a lightweight speedster like him. Ratchet didn’t complain, about that or the sand. The other spectators on the pier gave them dirty looks as Ratchet picked his way back to the shore. Frag them. The lightshow happened every year and went for hours, they weren’t missing anything. Ratchet didn’t set Drift down till they were back at the rail station for fear of losing him in the crowd. From up there the crowd was a shifting chaos of bioights in the dark but the explosions were still strut-shakingly loud.

On the train home they sat in seats across from one another, alone in the railcar. “I can’t believe we bailed on our first date in months,” Drift said.

“It was my fault. I just don’t like being surrounded by that many people,” Ratchet said. “Sorry if I ruined your evening.”

“Don’t lie, I know you left because I wasn’t enjoying it.” Drift smiled, a little sad. “I thought it’d be easier.”

“We’ll catch the second half at home,” Ratchet said. “We’ll get up on the roof and watch, you can bring those ridiculous snacks you like.”

“Best of both worlds,” Drift said. He swapped over to the seat next to Ratchet and cozied up against his side. They’d be home in a few minutes, and Ratchet would manage to forget the keycode again. They’d wander through their hab with the lights off and bump into everything and each other gathering up snacks and blankets and whatever else Drift suddenly needed desperately. They’d curl up under the stars together and they’d be home and everything would be good.

Primus, what a life he’d lived.

#squireofgeekdom #maccadam #mtmte #dratchet #my fics #ficlets #ya know after I edit it #gay space car robots: IN SPACE

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jon-purizhansky · 3 years ago

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Mastering Community Management for Migrant Workers

Employers around the world depend upon migrant labourers, yet few take the necessary steps to integrate these essential workers into local communities. By providing community management services for migrant workers, employers can drastically reduce expensive worker turnover while bolstering productivity and social cohesion across the workforce.

From offering language support to organizing community shopping trips, here’s how employers can help migrant workers upskill and integrate themselves into local communities.

Helping Migrants Achieve Success

Business owners who depend upon migrant workers should appreciate the value which can be derived from investing in one’s workforce. In addition to serving as a kind act of charity, helping migrant workers integrate is a sound investment in the future. Governments invest in integration, yet private businesses can also take steps to improve their own talent pool. Migrant workers who better understand local languages and customs will avoid seeking work elsewhere and find it easier to attain valuable educational or professional credentials.

Helping them achieve success should thus be a priority for every business owner. Nevertheless, that’s often easier said than done. Many companies host integration seminars which produce lackluster results, leading them to ignore such investment in the future. This is a terrible mistake to make – investing in migrant communities is a long-term commitment that requires careful cultural outreach.

“Migrant workers are looking for any opportunity to learn a new skill,” notes global relocation expert and Joblio CEO Jon Purizhansky. “Workers will eagerly pursue any learning opportunity they’re afforded, benefiting everyone. We just have to be willing to meet them in the middle.”

This means hosting community support services to ensure workers and their family members grow accustomed to local norms.

Recommendations To Employers

There are many ways to help refugees and migrants integrate. Employers trying to help migrant workers assimilate should take the following steps.

Ensure migrants are housed with others who speak the same language. Far too often, migrant workers reside in cramped dwellings with other workers from different countries. Without a common language, no sense of community can develop and fights are easier to start.

Provide English language services. After ensuring migrants can speak their native tongues in their own residences, take steps to provide English language services that go further than basic proficiency. Possessing advanced literacy helps migrants consume local cultural entertainment and make friends in the area.

Provide healthy recreational activities. Organizing a community football team and providing healthy means of recreation, such as ping pong tables or access to digital entertainment, is an essential part of discouraging unhealthy habits like drinking or illegal drug use.

Organize group shopping trips. Would you be comfortable shopping by yourself in a new country for the first time? Take migrants out in groups to local shopping centers. Introduce them to popular brands and explain local norms, such as whether customers are expected to tip or how to request assistance from customer support professionals.

Provide services to women. Migrant women may be unfamiliar with local fashion and beauty customs. Introducing them to professional attire and familiarizing them with popular social customs can smooth community integration. Consider providing guidance to all parents on where to acquire children’s clothing, toys, and school supplies.

Connect successful migrants with newcomers. Finally, put newly arrived migrants in contact with successful migrant labourers from the same origin country who have integrated into the new community. These established migrant workers serve as role models for newcomers and help them deal with any problems that arise as they settle into their new homes.

Ensuring Optimal Outcomes

Employers must understand that the integration process is continuous. Workers are always learning new things about their host countries, whether they’re on the factory floor or on their way home using public transportation. Providing constant support is thus critical, as the integration process doesn’t simply end after a language certification is achieved.

“Far too often, employers think that they just have to get workers here and integration will naturally occur,” notes Jon Purizhansky. “In reality, we have to invest in migrant communities and remember their humanity rather than simply exploit them as a source of labour.”

In addition to thoroughly educating migrant workers about on-the-job conditions, employers should ensure their workers know their rights. Only after migrants are aware of their human rights and local norms can they truly integrate. Remember that government integration initiatives are often insufficient, making private sector integration efforts all the more important.

Keep these tips in mind and your company will soon be enjoying the unique insights and tireless talent of integrated migrant workers who are proud members of your community.

About Joblio, Inc: Joblio is a leading technology platform in the global migrant labour industry based in Miami, FL. Chaired by David Arkless, Former Global President of the ManpowerGroup, Joblio was founded by Jon Purizhansky in 2020. Joblio prevents fraud and ensures compliance with labour laws in the processes of human capital relocation across the world. By directly connecting migrant labourers with their employers, Joblio removes middlemen from the hiring process to ensure fair and prosperous employment. In 2021, Joblio received the “Excellence Innovation Award in Human Rights Protection” Award from the Abrahamic Business Circle.

Originally Posted: https://jonpurizhanskybuffalo.com/mastering-community-management-for-migrant-workers/

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