#as if not being those things normally automatically makes you unappealing and he manages so pull that look off

[jonny-b-meowborn]

People are being very weird about Käärijä online which doesn't really surprise me but still is disappointing

[landinoandco]

Our Love is a Game

Lando Norris x Reader

Request from @jamieeboulos

Warnings: pinch of fluff, cute ending because they are the best

Word count: 2.7 k

Requests are open :)

It all started with a phone number, an innocent exchange that would subsequently change the world you knew; mostly for the better. When you had met Lando, as far as you were concerned you had just met a 21 year old who lived in London and had a passion for cars. How wrong you were. It was only when things started to get serious that he sat you down and explained everything that came with being a formula one driver; more importantly the fandom that he was involved in. 

You had always been a private person and admittedly this piece of information almost broke your relationship but after some time to think you had decided that he was worth it all. You both decided it was a better idea to keep your relationship as quiet as possible - you took every precaution to make sure you stayed a stranger to the fans.

For the past 2 years, you thought you had managed to stay clear of the cameras, the photos and the twitch streams but it wasn’t until a fan-made compilation caused your world to spiral out of control. 

You and Lando were out for a run, it was a part of your morning routine - a great way to start the day and it was time that you two could escape the motor sport world and act like a normal couple without worrying about who might be watching. It was time you both valued and appreciated. On this particular morning, Lando had decided to add to his Instagram story, a short video of his morning adventures - the mist still hanging around the trees as you ran under a heavily graffitied bridge, the early birds song chirping animatedly. At the time you didn’t think much of it as you were too busy tying your hair back up to notice. 

It wasn’t until you got home and looked at his story that your heart stopped, rushing over to the kitchen island you placed your phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. It was a blink and you’ll miss it moment but in the corner of his video - the last millisecond before it ended - there was a flash of a purple top (the purple top you had been wearing) and a swish of brown hair as you chucked it back up into a ponytail. 

“Lando.” You called out, trying to keep your voice as calm as you could. You didn’t know why it had affected you so much - or why you were so desperate to keep your identity a secret. It wasn’t like you wanted to hide your relationship; you were the happiest you ever had been, everyday was exciting and offered new prospects - it was more that you were so used to being in this bubble with Lando, the idea of it bursting seemed rather unappealing. Usually you didn’t care for how others saw you but seeing some of the words that people used to describe him, it would be enough to trouble even the thickest of skins. 

Lando’s close proximity broke your thoughts as he stared down at your phone, pausing on the flash of brown and purple. “I am so sorry, love.” He almost whispered, his eyes widening at his carelessness. He picked your phone up to take a closer look. 

“It will be alright, won’t it? I mean, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it.” You had said, more to reassure yourself than Lando. He didn’t answer, anxiety building in the pit of his stomach because he knew exactly what he had started. 

The fan-made compilation didn’t go viral until a few hours later - as it turns out that flash of purple was the perfect cherry on top of an unappetising cake. Lando was sat on stream - not that this was out of the ordinary and Max had decided to join him, leaving you alone to rewatch Friends for the umpteenth time. 

The pair were sat reacting to videos on YouTube when a clip of a seal swimming into a shoal of fish started playing - the amusing part was that they kept quickly dispersing away from the seal in question. Unsurprisingly, they laughed and Lando spluttered: “This is me trying to find a girlfriend.” What the fans didn’t know was the apparent irony of that sentence and this was what caused the major meltdown; whilst Lando and Max were busy crying with laughter - that chat had filled up with the same link and references to the video you would be redirected through. 

Max was the first to stop laughing, tapping Lando on the shoulder as he pointed at the chat. Hundreds of the same message filled the screen: “That’s not what this compilation shows.” “Lando, what are you hiding from us?” “Lando and Max laughing knowing very well he has a girlfriend.” 

“Chat what on earth are you waffling on about.” Max chuckled uneasily, looking at Lando out of the corner of his eye. Lando sat with a forced smile, his nostrils flaring as he continued through the comments. He could only let out a tense laugh as he swallowed thickly - his throat feeling suddenly dry. You were still sitting, completely engrossed and unaware that Lando Norris was now trending on twitter. 

Max had come up with an excuse to end the stream not long after, Lando uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were with you in the other room, had you seen it? Did you know? How would you react? He felt as though he had lost all control, like he had failed you entirely - all he wanted to do was protect you yet he was the one to screw it up. 

“Hey,” Max nudged his shoulder, “It was bound to happen at some point. Let’s go and see if she’s seen it - if not then -” He took a deep breath, “We will watch it together. We need to know what we are working with here.” Lando nodded, unable to reply, his body went into automatic pilot mode and too quickly he was standing facing you. 

Pausing the tv, you looked at Lando - his jaw tightened and facial expressions set as though he had just seen a ghost. “Is everything ok?” You asked apprehensively. 

“There’s something you need to see.” Max reached for his phone, pushing Lando onto the sofa. You offered your arm to Lando, pulling him into a hug. Max pulled up the video and pressed play. A tense atmosphere held the room hostage - breath restricted and gazes fixed onto the tiny screen in front of you. 

It started with a clip from this year’s Goodwood - Lando preparing to drive his last hill climb - you remembered it well, a McLaren hat placed on your head mainly to cover your identity; knowing that there would be more than a few fans around. The clip moved to 3 separate stills - all of you in your McLaren hat. One with your back to the camera, you hand placed around Lando’s waist, the other two a side profile as you spoke to Max. 

The reaction was immediate, you slapped your hand to your mouth, Lando looked horror-struck and Max was watching you carefully. 

The video moved on, this time a clip from the quadrant video where Niran trains like Lando for 24 hours - Lando and Niran were in the kitchen preparing to eat their breakfast when once again the video moved to stills. This time they were of your reflection in the oven - holding the camera. You had thought at the time, if you were behind the camera it would stop every chance of you accidentally being caught on camera. Apparently not. 

The video had moved on again, this time to stills of Lando arriving on track - of course there was no way for you to get on track without being photographed and you were fine with that because you would just arrive after Lando either with Jon or Charlotte. Photos of you arriving with Jon and Charlotte flashed up - with them you were just another member of staff but put with those other stills and it really did yell out that you and Lando were romantically involved. Finally the flash of purple from Lando’s story. The game was up. 

“Oh my-” You stuttered as the video came to an end. Fortunately your Instagram hadn’t been shown but judged by how skilled you knew the fans to be - it would only be a matter of time. “I feel sick.” You admitted, wiping your hands across your face. Lando still hadn’t said a word, staring blankly at the floor. Max was the first to come up with something logical, turning to you and Lando. 

“It will blow over.” He started, “The fans will soon lose interest and move onto the next big headline. We just need to ignore anything we see regarding the subject.” He moved his attention to you. “Maybe avoid social media for a few days. Let everyone cool down -” Sensing your means to interrupt, he held his hand up. “I know you shouldn’t have to and I know none of this is fair but unfortunately people have no boundaries and believe because it’s on social media it is their business. If they were in our situation, I’m pretty sure they would be the first to complain. Let’s just go along with it for now. It will give you time to think about what to do next.” 

Lando cleared his throat, pulling you closer into him. “I’ve failed you. All I wanted to do was protect you.” At this, Max got up and left. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “You could never. Think about how long we kept it secret for. Besides, until we announce or admit anything - it isn’t confirmed.” You offered, trying to soothe his worries. He nodded, still not convinced. 

“Our love is like a game and it’s not a game I enjoy playing.” He croaked, lacing your fingers together. 

“I know, Lando, I know. Let’s let everything calm down and then we can think about what our next step is.” 

Weeks later and it was the night before you were due to leave for your summer holiday. You would be spending it with Lando and some of his friends and family. Due to the current pandemic, it had been so long since you had been away - even if it was a bigger group of you going; you were still looking forward to spending that quality time with Lando. 

Max had decided to take himself and Tom off to the streaming room - leaving you and Lando to sort out the remaining items you needed for your time away. 

“I have a present for you.” He said suddenly, his hands behind his back. You beamed, taking a step closer to him. He shook his head, “If you want it - “ He pointed at his lips. 

Rolling your eyes, you pecked his lips then held out your hands like a child. Lando chuckled, “Close your eyes.” Hands still outstretched and eyes closed, you waited for Lando to present you with your surprise. He grasped your left wrist and attached something to it - “No peeking.” He added. A moment or two later, he dropped his hold of your wrist and said: “You can open them now.” You could hear the smile on his lips. You opened your eyes and looked straight to your wrist - he had given you a pink watch. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked up at him, his eyes twinkled as he then pointed to the orange watch on his wrist. 

“Watches?” You asked, confusion laced your tone. 

Nodding, he said, “We all have matching watches but in different colours - they are for our holiday away.” 

You gave him a lopsided grin and wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love it. Thank you.” 

In the streaming room, Max was having to ignore the majority of the comments because they were all asking the same thing: “Who was the girl from the compilation.” He was trying his hardest to keep moving off the topic, instead showing off the watches - it had been his idea, blue for him, orange for Lando, a child’s watch for Tom and a pink watch for you. He had listed off all of the colours and said who they belonged to: “And then pink-” He paused, mentally face palming. He looked over to Tom for assistance - he hadn’t meant to say pink at all. “And pink is for someone.” He cursed his poor excuse but as if by magic - Lando walked through the door. 

Distracting the stream from his slip up. 

Croatia was a dream come true, the hot summer sun on your back and the time to just relax and recharge. Days spent with Lando sunbathing on the boat or stuck in a tense game of Uno. Not being the only female was brilliant as well - as they got to go off and not feel guilty about leaving you on your own. 

Currently, you and Lando were standing in each other's arms - the afternoon drawing into the evening as the sun began to set. You had your arms around his neck and his arms were around your waist, sighing contentedly you broke the silence: “This is nice.” He pressed his lips into your hair, a sign that he agreed with your statement. In that moment, it was just you and him - everyone seemed to disappear from around you and all worries vanished. It was the simple yet affectionate moments that had always meant the most to you. You felt as though you could relax every muscle in your body, listening to his steady heartbeat - you wished for this moment to never end, to forever be in his arms and to not worry about who sees you there. 

Ever since that compilation had been made, the thought had been on your mind a lot. Were you ready to go public with Lando? At the end of the day you were both happy and surely that was the most important thing. 

Later that night, you were sitting eating your meal when a phone was handed to you, displayed on it was a picture of you and Lando - in each other’s arms. 

Instantly you knew what this meant, looking at Lando you were met with the same expression. He did as well. 

You and Lando had decided it was time to announce your relationship, there was no point sneaking around anymore if people knew and were looking out for you. You had agreed that the best way to do it was if you joined him in a stream, that way they got to know you a bit more for who you were. 

“Is it ok to feel as nervous as I am?” You asked him, pulling up a chair beside him. He was setting up the stream, two mugs of tea placed in front of you. It seemed completely unnatural to sit facing the camera. 

“I mean, this is kind of a big deal so yes I would say, it’s completely natural for you to feel nervous.” He reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. Nodding, you took a deep breath. 

“Ok. I’m ready.” You said, your heart beating at a million miles an hour. The corners of his lips turned up, leaning in to leave you a kiss on the lips. 

“I love you and I’m so proud of you.” He admitted quietly, as though you were the only person in the world, his eyes flickered with complete adoration. 

“I love you too. Now, shall we start it?” 

Lando went to press the start stream button but paused. He turned back to face you, his eyes wide and offered an apologetic smile. 

“What did you do?” You asked, a smile toying at your lips as you had an idea of what it might have been. 

“Stream, meet my girlfriend.” 

He had already started it...

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 2 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren did some research on the rules about obeying one’s elders even when they made stupid arbitrary decisions that they didn’t explain – his brother had only said that Lan Qiren was not to spend time alone with Wen Ruohan and that Wen Ruohan was a petty person, but had indicated nothing else to explain the reason for the rule, though perhaps Lan Qiren was missing some unspoken assumption again – but sadly his research proved inconclusive on the matter. He was forced to conclude that it was better to err in favor of obedience.

Still, he felt resentful that he obeyed Don’t disrespect your elders while his brother seemed to feel free to ignore Don’t disrespect your juniors. That was the way of things, of course, and of course given the age difference between them – he was a child, his brother an adult, with nearly a ten year gap between them – the exhortation was magnified. Lan Qiren should be obedient and respectful, filial, and yet he couldn’t quite manage not to feel upset about the disparity, even though he knew he should accept the rules with equanimity and grace.

That wasn’t exactly a rule, or at least it wasn’t a written rule, but Lan Qiren had heard it often enough that he understood it to be an unspoken rule. He wasn’t that good at obeying those, even when he tried.

And of course, there were some written rules he had trouble with, too…

“Hello there.”

Lan Qiren looked up from where he was contemplating the prescribed punishment for breaking Do not be picky with food and whether it was preferable to forcing himself to consume the overcooked mushy greens currently sitting in his bowl.

“Sect Leader Wen,” he said blankly, then remembered Do not sit when an elder stands and attempted to scramble into a standing position, only to remember Do not stand incorrectly and inexpertly tried to force himself into the proper form when he was already halfway up.

Wen Ruohan caught him by both shoulders before he could fall over his own feet and helped straighten him out. “You’re a little clumsy, aren’t you?” he said with a strange smile, and Lan Qiren automatically bowed his head in acknowledgement of his error. “It’s not a physical thing, though; you’re quite graceful. Just too caught in your own head, is it?”

That was exactly it.

Lan Qiren smiled thankfully up at Wen Ruohan, who seemed a little surprised for some reason, but who released his shoulders and allowed Lan Qiren to salute properly. He didn’t stop the bow the way one of the other sect leaders might – Lao Nie, for instance, barely let anyone complete a full salute without pulling them back up, to the point that Lan Qiren sometimes wondered if he would prefer to do away with the gesture entirely – but by the time Lan Qiren had straightened up, he had a thoughtful expression.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Lan Qiren inquired. There was a rule against speaking during mealtimes, but it was one of the lesser rules. The rules of hospitality took precedence, and the Lan sect was hosting this particular night-hunt, even if the small town they were all staying in wasn’t the Cloud Recesses itself.

He was prepared to be sent away on some task – looking forward to it, even, since it meant he wouldn’t have to eat the mush – but instead Wen Ruohan shook his head.

“I could use some company,” he said, and flicked his sleeve, sitting down in the seat across from Lan Qiren. Vacant, of course, since Lan Qiren had settled himself into one of the more distant corners of the inn in an attempt to avoid his brother’s notice, and of course he was also by far the youngest person on this night-hunt, making for very unappealing company to everyone else. “Sit and finish your dinner.”

Lan Qiren sank back down a little reluctantly. The greens remained as unappetizing as before.

Wen Ruohan noticed the direction of his gaze, and the untouched dinner. “Practicing inedia?”

“I’m too young,” Lan Qiren said, which was true. Inedia at his age could stunt his growth.

“Not to your taste, then?”

Lan Qiren shook his head, but reached out and picked up his chopsticks anyway.

“If you don’t like it, why not ask for something else?” Wen Ruohan asked.

“Do not be picky with food,” Lan Qiren recited, glum, and put a bite into his mouth. It was revolting, sticky and glue-like, and he gagged, wanting to spit it out. That would be even more rude, though, so he forced himself to chew and then eventually to swallow.

It took all of his attention to do, and he was almost surprised when he opened his eyes – he’d closed them at some point, probably in order to help summon the willpower required to perform the task – and saw Wen Ruohan staring straight at him, his expression unfathomable.

“Your eyes are red,” he said.

Lan Qiren stared at him. “No? They’re light brown. Yours are red.”

Wen Ruohan’s lips curved up a little. “I didn’t mean the iris,” he clarified. “The sclera. Your eyes filled with tears, aggravating the blood flowing through them, and as a result the rims of your eyes became reddened.”

“Oh,” Lan Qiren said. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that observation, or if he was supposed to respond in some way. Apologize, maybe? But it was a physiological reaction…

Maybe Sect Leader Wen was just a little strange, he decided. But he obviously couldn’t comment on that, given that his brother was always saying that he, too, was more than a little strange –

His brother.

“Oh, no,” Lan Qiren said, chewing on his lip in anxiety, and Sect Leader Wen looked at him in silent question. “I should go.”

“Go? Why?”

Do not tell lies. “My brother said I shouldn’t spend time alone with you.”

Wen Ruohan laughed.

Lan Qiren stared at him, off balance. That wasn’t normally how people responded to him being rude, and he wasn’t stupid – he knew it was rude of him to say that. Rude of his brother to order it, really, but ruder of him to actually say it, even if he wasn’t supposed to lie. He’d never quite worked out where the one rule ended and the other one began; it was a recurring issue.

“Qingheng-jun is wise in identifying the issue and its solution,” Wen Ruohan remarked, seeming unruffled. “But rather foolish in his ham-handed attempts to implement that solution.”

Lan Qiren didn’t understand.

“You don’t need to be concerned, little Lan,” Wen Ruohan said, and he was smiling at him. “Sharing a meal with me won’t mean that you’re disobeying your brother. After all, we’re not really alone, are we?”

Lan Qiren’s eyes flickered around them, and he had to admit that that was true. While the corner he’d chosen was moderately secluded, it was still part of the main dining room, not even hidden by a screen or anything – he could directly see where his brother was sitting around a table with Lao Nie and Jin Guangshan and some of the others, playing some sort of game, and presumably, if his brother wished, he could look at him in return.

“Sect Leader Wen is correct,” he concluded. “The prohibition was against spending time alone with you. We are not alone, and therefore the prohibition does not apply. Forgive my rudeness.”

“Think nothing of it,” Wen Ruohan said, looking pleased. “Such an interesting child you are.”

Lan Qiren looked at him suspiciously, since he didn’t think that was true.

“Shouldn’t you be with the other sect leaders?” he asked, dropping his gaze to his chopsticks. He had taken one bite, but that wasn’t eating; he would need to take another. But it was so awfully mushy…

“I prefer games of strategy to games of chance,” Wen Ruohan said. “Meet my eyes.”

Lan Qiren looked at him.

“Very good,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren shifted uncomfortably at the praise. “You don’t hear that often, do you?”

Lan Qiren bristled. “I excel at my studies, and at music. My teachers have never had any cause for complaint.”

“With your devotion to following rules, I would imagine they wouldn’t. Music, hmm? Music and philosophy, I’d wager. Is that how you managed to cultivate such a bright golden core?”

Lan Qiren resisted the urge to put his hand over his belly. His core had only very recently formed, at just the appropriate age – nothing like his prodigy brother who had reached core formation before the age of ten – and he was painfully aware that he was likely never to reach anywhere near his brother’s potential, particularly given the differences in their capacity for swordsmanship.

He’d never heard that his core was unusually bright before, though.

“You won’t be able to remain so untainted by worldly affairs for long, little Lan,” Wen Ruohan said. “Not as a son of a Great Sect.”

“I’m going to be a traveling musician when I’m older,” Lan Qiren told him. “People won’t need to know that I’m from a Great Sect then.”

Another chuckle, and Wen Ruohan reached out and tapped Lan Qiren’s forehead ribbon right in the center of his forehead, ignoring how Lan Qiren recoiled, eyes wide. “People will always know, little Lan, as long as you have this.”

“Fine, then let people know,” Lan Qiren said, trying to maintain his dignity. “What does it matter, as long as I can help them?”

Wen Ruohan’s smile widened. “Help people? You can’t even help yourself. Or are the bruises on your wrist from a door you bumped into?”

Bruises?

Lan Qiren looked down at his wrists, pulling back his sleeves, and, yes, one wrist was still red from where his brother had tugged him along in his wake earlier, the flesh hot and a little swollen when he pressed his fingers against it. He watched, a little fascinated, as the white imprints of his fingerprints faded back into the red, and then remembered he was among company and pulled his sleeve over his wrist again.

“It’s only swollen,” he said, remembering to meet Wen Ruohan’s eyes as he looked up. “Not bruised.”

Not yet, anyway.

Wen Ruohan’s gaze felt heavy again. It was intent and almost penetrating, uncomfortable and weighted, almost as if he could change the air pressure around Lan Qiren simply with his eyes.

“Didn’t you notice it earlier?” he asked.

Lan Qiren shook his head. “The doctor says I have reduced long-term awareness of pain,” he admitted. “Bruises, cuts…once the initial pain has passed, I adjust to it and forget about it.”

“Interesting. And yet, judging from how you sought to protect yourself from the fall earlier, you still fear pain.”

Lan Qiren grimaced. “It’s only in the long term that I don’t notice it. In the short term, my sensitivity to discomfort is heightened.”

“I see. That explains why you cry when you have to eat food you don’t like.”

“I didn’t cry,” Lan Qiren insisted. He was still looking into Wen Ruohan’s eyes – maybe because Wen Ruohan was looking so deeply into his own, his gaze fixed and unblinking, but it didn’t feel quite as unpleasant as it sometimes did with other people. Just intense. “I don’t cry over things like that anymore.”

It was just a physiological reaction to gagging, he wanted to say, but for some reason didn’t. The words felt sticky in his throat, like syrup – even his thoughts seemed a little slow, as if they had to wade through the mud before actually forming. It was almost a little calming, really; normally his thoughts felt like they were whizzing by too fast to catch, like streaks of lightning caught in his skull.

“It hurt when your brother grabbed you like that, didn’t it,” Wen Ruohan said. His voice was deep, and his eyes were very red. “More than it would hurt other people. It hurt a lot.”

Lan Qiren nodded.  

“You didn’t like that. It made you feel angry. Resentful.”

It did.

“Maybe you should do something about it. How about that? Maybe he wouldn’t do it again if only you showed him how much you don’t like it when he treats you that way.”

That had never worked before…

“You just didn’t try hard enough before. You didn’t get his attention. Why don’t you go show him now? He’s sitting right there with all the other sect leaders. Just go and push him down to the floor when he’s not expecting it. That’ll show him.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Fighting without permission is forbidden, Sect Leader Wen.”

Wen Ruohan straightened his back suddenly – he’d started leaning forward at some point, bringing their faces closer together; Lan Qiren hadn’t noticed given their steady eye contact. “What?”

“Fighting without permission is forbidden,” Lan Qiren explained, rubbing at his eyes, which suddenly felt overly dry. He’d somehow forgotten to blink for a while. “It’s one of the rules. Plus there’s also Do not sow discord and No improper behavior, which are also really important rules. So even if I want to talk to him, it wouldn’t be appropriate to do it in front of others, would it?”

He shook his head and picked up his chopsticks – he’d put them down at some point without noticing.

“Thank you for your advice and guidance, Sect Leader Wen,” he added, trying to be polite even if he wasn’t being very sincere. He’d tried time and time again to express himself to his brother without success; he’d long ago given it up. “I appreciate your consideration.”

“And I was actually trying that time,” Wen Ruohan remarked, seemingly inexplicably and apropos of nothing, and then for no reason that Lan Qiren could determine, he started chuckling. “You have a very interesting mind, little Lan. Very interesting indeed...and more willpower than one would expect, given your age and position. Perhaps it’s eating all that food you dislike that does it, or maybe it really is those ridiculous rules.”

Lan Qiren frowned at him. The rules weren’t ridiculous. They were important! How else was he supposed to know how to deal with people - how was anyone supposed to know how to deal with people - without the rules to serve as guidance?

He was about to say so, too, when a waiter abruptly came to their table and put down a dish of freshly grilled yams. Lan Qiren hadn’t even realized they had yams available at this inn, or even a proper charcoal grill to use to cook them; it hadn’t been offered, and no other table had them – if he’d known, he would have asked for them much earlier.

“Consider it a gift,” Wen Ruohan said with a faint smirk, waiving the waiter away. He must have ordered the dish at some point when Lan Qiren wasn’t paying attention. “Something you might find a little more palatable than those greens.”

“Thank you, Sect Leader Wen!” This time, Lan Qiren was wholly sincere, and even enthusiastic.

Especially because, since it was a gift, he didn’t have to restrain himself in terms of scarfing down the food. The yams were delicious.

“Such enthusiasm,” Wen Ruohan remarked, clearly amused, but Lan Qiren didn’t object; he was enthusiastic. “I’ll leave you to your meal, little Lan. I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble with your elder brother.”

Lan Qiren nodded, distracted by the food; it was by far better than anything he’d had in the past few days. “I don’t know why he said I had to stay away from you,” he said, meaning it as an apology.

“Oh, I think it’s probably based on one of your rules,” Wen Ruohan said, standing up. He had that strange smile again. “Isn’t there one that goes ‘stay away from bad men’?”

He left before Lan Qiren could correct him – it was do not associate with evil.

[verrottweil]

chance encounter at the 7-eleven

amoneki, bonding, or awkwardly checking each other out. pfft, i just needed to get this out of my head~

takes place during the first season of the anime, sometime after mado kureo died.

on ao3

.

I should’ve gotten something to eat right away, Amon quietly chastises himself as he walks towards the 7-Eleven on the corner in a brisk pace.

Exercising’s his emotional outlet. He plunged into an intensive cardio workout, doing jumping jacks, pushups, rope jumps, dumbbell swings and squats for little over an hour this evening at the gym, and went jogging around Ueno Park when the second-guessing became too much to handle.

           And with his mind constantly racing a hundred an hour, he wasn’t really in the mood to eat anyway.

He should’ve known that after showering and settling down in his bed to do some final revisions on a report, his stomach would start to protest and grumble loudly.

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, Amon pauses in front of the automatic door and sighs impatiently. He’ll probably buy a ready-to-eat meal and eat it at one of the tables in front of the window. Squinting a bit at the harsh glare of the white lights, he goes inside, dutifully nodding at the scrawny teen who mutters a disinterested irasshaimase from behind the counter, and walks over to the back of the store where the fridges are lined up against the wall.

Two of the refrigerators are filled with bottled tea, milky tea, iced coffee, beer and water, while another one’s stacked with yoghurts and cartons of flavored milk.

Standing in front of the open cabinet wedged between the last fridge and the door to the bathroom, Amon starts to browse the ready-to-serve dinners. He conscientiously reads the ingredient list of the curry chicken and rice, before putting the packaging back on the shelf and moving on to check out the price of the udon with beef and omelette, it’s at least twenty yen cheaper, so he decides to take it.

While he’s busy digging up a couple of coins, a new customer enters the store; the automatic door slides open, the bell chimes and the cashier then churns out another monotone greeting.

But from the corner of his eye, the guy who just entered bears a striking resemblance to that one ghoul with the eyepatch mask, begging Amon to flee, begging Amon not to turn him in a murderer. He spins around on his heel to watch him saunter over to the table with a can of coffee in his hand and a book in the other. Once the guy’s seated, he notices that his face reflects in the window glass, revealing him to have soft, boyish features, a mop of black hair, small thin lips and a white, medical eyepatch covering his left eye.

No way, he mouths the words silently, ignoring the impatient look the cashier’s levelling him, no way that ghoul’s here.

“Sir?” The cashier prompts, bringing his palm down on the counter to catch his attention, “You’re still eighteen yen short.”

Amon turns around at the interruption, and frowning, he digs up two ten-yen coins from his wallet and hands them over to the scrawny teen, then disinterestedly watches both the selection of smokes behind the counter and the cashier typing in the balance on the cash register. He tries to ignore how the wound on his shoulder tingles. Soon enough he’s presented with two one-yen coins, glimmering dully in the bright lights of the fluorescent tubes overhead, and his meal wrapped up in a handy, blue bag with a pair of throwaway chopsticks.

Steeling himself, he takes a deep breath, then he purposefully walks over and loudly puts his meal down on the table.

He’s secretly a bit pleased that he managed to scare the guy. But that trickle of satisfaction quickly turns to inexplicable guilt when he snaps his head up from his book and simply looks at Amon with a startled expression. Much like a skittish animal—a mouse, or a sparrow maybe, would be surprised to see a predator approaching its cover.

But the reaction’s so wholly normal, so far removed from the animalistic way the ghoul had thrown himself at him and tore a chunk of meat from his shoulder or the sheer panic on the ghoul’s face when he realized what he had done. Self-consciously tugging on the silver cross around his throat, he offers the guy an apologetic smile and somewhat sheepishly motions to the chair, unwilling to break the silence by asking if it was okay to sit down.

When he gets a nod in response, he settles down on the barstool and props his elbows on the tabletop.

Itadakimasu, he whispers under his breath before he rips the plastic from his meal and breaks the chopsticks in two, ready to dig in.

Amon feels underdressed enough as it is in just his sweatpants, plain white t-shirt and running shoes, but the guy next to him seems to be checking him out through his reflection in the window glass if the lingering glances are anything to go by.

“Um,” Amon knows he’s a bit of a catastrophe when it comes to initiating small talk—and he can feel splashes of sauce on his chin and there’s probably a stain on the neckline of his t-shirt, but he sincerely hopes the other guy won’t notice.

He somehow manages to sort out his words, “It’s a nice evening, isn’t it?”

Slowly he turns around to peer at Amon with his one visible eye from underneath his evenly-cut fringe. There’s wonder in his gaze, not recognition—and if Amon’s completely honest with himself, he would’ve preferred recognition because it would’ve at least confirmed his suspicions about the guy, but now he’s left with an undercurrent of doubt.

“Ah…” Here he scratches his cheek, squints a bit, before throwing a glance outside, at the empty street and the clear sky, then he regards Amon again and breaks down in a slightly nervous smile. “Yes, I suppose it is. Nice and cloudless—” It’s weirdly endearing how he points up to the sky outside, as if to prove his own point.

“Were you still out jogging just now?” He prompts then, leaning forwards a bit, crossing his ankles and folding his arms over his book. His gaze’s far more inquisitive than the tone of his voice.

Amon wipes his mouth with a napkin and replies, “No, I was doing some paperwork—” and here the guy tilts his head, making him add the following, “At home. And I guess I just forgot to eat dinner. Why?”

He didn’t really mean to sound so defensive, but he’s just so used at being prodded for weaknesses.

“Oh, it’s just,” the guy pauses for a split-second, rubbing his chin in consideration, and continues, “I heard it got pretty dangerous around these parts at night… With the ghoul attacks and everything… Um. I’m sorry for prying.”

“Right,” he mutters quietly in response, his brows furrowed together.

Sometimes he forgets how casually civilians can mention ghouls, as if the threat they pose isn’t as pressing as he knows it is, as if they’re like pickpockets in abandoned alleyways instead of monsters searching for a meal. His entire life’s centered around fighting ghouls after all. From his peripheral, Amon wagers another glance at the guy and while he knows there’s no dismissing the possibility that this guy’s the eyepatch ghoul, he also knows there’s a big chance the guy’s not.

Meanwhile the bike some high school girl put against the wall of the store outside clatters to the ground and the girl jumps in surprise at the sudden noise; but it’s just something that happens to be there on the backdrop, like the pop music playing or the soft whirring of the air conditioner.

“Strange time to be reading by yourself here,” Amon comments as he straightens his back and rolls his neck to ease off the strain.

He backs away and closes the book, showing off the cover; Manji, the title reads, underscored by the name of the author, Junichiro Tanizaki, and the date of publication. Smiling sheepishly, the guy replies, “I need to finish the chapter by tomorrow but I ran out of coffee.”

—But there’s something so disarming about the way his mouth curves in that close-lipped smile.

“So… you’re a literature student.”

Obviously, Amon bristles, feeling embarrassment the second those words left his mouth, otherwise he wouldn’t be carrying a book like that around.

“Yes,” the guy says very softly, turning around on the barstool to face him properly.

Amon’s taken aback by how delicate the guy looks: his eye’s a glassy gray, framed by thick eyelashes, his cheeks are round, not entirely done away with its baby fat, but not too chubby either, and the cupid bow of his mouth is rather pronounced, but he does have a noticeable underbite.

If anything, there’s something androgynous about his features and his lithe form.

But it’s not unappealing, he concludes as he rakes his gaze over the guy’s body, from his head to the frumpish, over-sized sweater and the pair of skinnies that are rolled up at the ankles he’s wearing, down to his simple white sneakers.

“I’m quite passionate about reading, actually,” the guy continues, bringing his hands nervously to his lap, appearing to be uncomfortable with talking about himself but perhaps equally so with the prospect of an awkward silence.

He brings the full weight of his one-eyed gaze back to Amon’s flustered face when he asks, “Do you like to read?”

“When I was younger…”

He shakes his head, trailing off as the memories come trickling through slowly at first—this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins, with notes sprawled in a hasty cyrillic in the margins— and then they burst through like water from a dam. More biblical verses, corrections to a Japanese copy of Anna Karenina, sheets with choral music that slip from clumsy children’s hands, and so many more things he had once cherished to read during his childhood.

His sigh sounds a little bit like loss.

“Most of the things I read now are related to my job,” Amon explains dryly, drumming his fingernails onto the tabletop. “I haven’t really been on the lookout for decent reading material lately, I guess.”

“Could I, maybe, recommend a few of my favorites?” There’s a spark of hope in his tone of voice, matching the expression on his face, as if it’s important to him.

Amon offers him a somewhat stilted smile in return, briefly—reflexively—touching the cross around his neck, and answers, “Sure… I think I’d like that, actually.”

He perks up instantly, straightens in his seat and takes a quick sip of his half-empty coffee can before beginning to talk.

“Thank you! So, I enjoyed everything Takatsuki Sen wrote, but I really suggest the Black Goat’s Egg, because the imagery is just… wow, so vivid and meaningful, especially when it comes to the juxtaposition between the physical and the psychological. It’s nothing short of magnificent the way she writes…”

Amon knows he’s blatantly staring—no, he’s ogling the guy at this point, from the way his face lights up, to the intonation and emphasis in his speaking, to the soft curve of his bottom lip and the hint of teeth. He props his chin up on his knuckles and just listens to him.

“But enough about the Black Goat’s Egg,” the guy concludes awkwardly when he gets caught up in the intensity of Amon’s gaze.

Swiping his tongue over the seal of his mouth, he then continues, “You can’t go wrong with a classic, of course, so I think you might find Kafka’s Metamorphosis interesting too.”

“That first one must be a really good book if you’re so captivated by it,” Amon remarks matter-of-fact, as he seizes him up.

“It is, I could talk hours about it if I wanted... But then again, you might not want to…” He trails off here, too self-conscious suddenly, shirking back and grabbing his can of coffee. Shyly scratching his chin, the guy then asks, “We haven’t really introduced ourselves properly yet, now have we. May I ask what your name is?”

“Amon. I’m Amon Koutarou. It’s nice to meet you.” He means those last words and sincerely hopes it translates in his voice, in his expression.

“What’s yours?”

He smiles widely, showing off his teeth, and says, “I’m Kaneki, Kaneki Ken. It’s nice to meet you too, Amon-san.”

They spend a couple more minutes unhurriedly talking, up to the point where Amon feels guilty for keeping Kaneki from his assignment. Up to the point where the last sip of coffee tastes stale and cold and Kaneki grimaces when he gulps it down like he swallowed a lemon whole. For some reason, they ended up grinning like idiots at each other.

It was one of the better nights Amon’s had since Mado died.

.

They meet again on a battlefield, on opposite sides, with wisps of smoke curling around Kaneki’s face, hiding his ghoulish, red eye away from sight.

—May I ask what your name is?

He inhales, exhales, and tries to remain stone-faced at the question.

—Amon.

Kaneki dips his head and smiles.

.

[iyarpage]

Why Design Is Bad For Designers (And How To Fix That)

If you’re like most talented designers, you have an eye for aesthetics. You understand beauty, design, and symmetry at an almost fundamental level. It’s not just a nice-to-have, it’s an essential component that shapes how you see the world.

That’s the problem.

Most of the people around you, the people you work with, don’t get it. They don’t have an eye for design. They don’t understand the principles of design.

Designers Are Often Punished For Their Talents

Many designers are abused, neglected and taken for granted. It’s not supposed to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way, but for many creatives, it is.

Designing Is Amazing, When You’re In Control

Most of the time, you’re not in control are you? Most of the time you’re asked to create something you know isn’t very good. How many times have you heard a variation of, “Make it pop?” But, it’s more than that.

As a designer, you have an eye for aesthetics. You’re unconsciously aware of form, structure and layout in a way that non-designers are not. If you’re like most designers, you see the elements of design everywhere. If you’re a talented designer you’re orderly, observant and intelligent. You see and understand far more details than you share. It’s the hallmark of a brilliant designer.

Here’s why this is a problem.

Designers Are Consistently Required To Create Ugly, Poorly Performing Work For Incompetent People

When I say ugly I’m not just talking about work that’s visually unappealing. I’m talking about work that creates confusion, stress or anxiety in users. Work that pushes users and your employer further away from the goals they’re trying to achieve.

Non-designers have this bad habit.

They seem to believe they’re capable designers, that their expertise in one area, like say accounting, marketing, or investing, is automatically transferable to design. “It’s just design” they tell themselves. How hard can it be?

Non-designers wrap their awful requests in comments like these:

“I know you need four days to do this but it’s an easy project. You’re a decent designer so this shouldn’t be too hard for you to get this done in the next half hour. I mean come on, you should be grateful you even have a job. There are plenty of designers who’d love to have the opportunities you have. Just be grateful for the work you have.”

Maybe you’ve heard something similar?

Here’s the thing. Gratitude isn’t a cure for dysfunction. It’s a necessary and natural part of success.

Why design == suffering

Does design really == suffering?

It doesn’t, at least not in a healthy environment.

Okay, what does a healthy environment look like? It’s one where designers are given the freedom and constraints they need to create new things, to dream up new ideas. This typically includes a few essential ingredients.

Clear boundaries to work within. The do’s and don’ts. Clear instructions on the amount and types of risks you can take with your design. When to take these risks, why you’d go about taking them and when you shouldn’t. Boundaries can also include design philosophies (e.g. minimalism, simplicity) and values.

Frameworks to follow. A clear rationale that outlines the design process you follow on your team. Policies and procedures that outline how you go about creating consistently great work. Tools and resources used by your team to produce that work. Styles, samples and libraries (e.g. Zurb’s Foundation) used as a reference point.

Guidance and corrective feedback. Both inexperienced and experienced designers will make mistakes. As designers, we may run into a scenario where we’re happy with something that isn’t up to standard. Other times we may focus our attention on details that don’t move everyone towards their desired goals.

Ongoing training and support. Personal and professional development that increases your abilities and develops skills with new tools. Support when you run into trouble or need help. Strategic and tactical content that teaches you the when, why, and how concepts in design.

At first glance these seem pretty obvious, don’t they?

But they’re really not.

What happens when these ingredients are missing? Work shifts from a supportive environment to an oppressive one.

Oppressive environments create and maintain suffering

Your workplace runs on motivation. The more “engaged” people are at work, the better they perform. That’s the problem. Research shows most people are “disengaged at work.” That’s basically a roundabout way of saying most people hate their jobs.

Not surprising, is it? Here’s why.

Most Workplaces Rely On A Poor Motivation Strategy; The Carrot Or The Stick

Do what your boss wants (even if it’s horrible, soul sucking and tedious) and you get to keep your job. You receive some kind of financial reward. Resist and you’re punished. You’re hammered with more terrible work, placed on a PIP, demoted, or fired.

This is how we’re “motivated” at work.

Not very motivating is it? In fact, it’s this kind of poor motivation that’s created an environment of disloyalty.

In Drive, Daniel Pink’s bestselling book on motivation, Pink shares the secret behind motivation. Motivation, as it turns out, is based on three specific ingredients.

Autonomy. Our desire and ability to be self directed, to control our work to a certain extent.

Mastery. The ability to improve our skills as designers, to gain control and supremacy over our craft.

Purpose. The desire to create meaningful work that serves a greater goal.

As designers, how many of us actually can say we have this at work? If the research I shared above is accurate, not many. The question then, is why. Here’s a few of the most common reasons.

Design by non-designer. The designer’s work is consistently critiqued by non-designers who consistently ask the designers to violate their training, conscience, abilities. Their work is belittled, diminished or invalidated.

Dysfunctional management. Managers and clients make unreasonable requests due to their lack of knowledge, a misunderstanding of the basics and/or poor management. It makes sense then that 50 percent of employees quit their job to get away from a horrible boss.

Conflict between creating and selling. Many designers and developers despise sales and marketing teams. It’s hard to create meaningful work or feel you’re serving a greater purpose when you’re asked to lie, deceive, or manipulate users.

Doing trivial work that doesn’t seem to matter much to users, employers or yourself.

(This isn’t a comprehensive list.)

As it stands, designers hate their jobs for a variety of reasons.

“There’s nothing you can do to fix this…”

This is just the way things are. It’s a common objection that—fortunately for designers—is completely untrue. There’s a lot designers can do to fix a miserable situation. Why do so many designers believe their situation is hopeless?

Perception.

Many designers have been mistreated for so long, that they’ve simply accepted a lie. That this is normal, the way things are. But this isn’t the case everywhere. The good news, there is a way for designers to fix this problem. The bad news? Many designers will find a reason why the solution won’t work.

What’s the solution?

Creating results.

That’s it?! That’s the amazing solution I’ve been talking up all this time? It sounds like a complete waste of time, I know. While it sounds like generic and unhelpful advice there’s a whole lot more to this. When it comes to results there are two kinds:

Conventional results build trust and security. Being great at your job, going above and beyond, working well with others, etc. If you’re a designer whose work is excellent, you’re reliable and you’re someone your team knows they can count on.

Transformative results build trust and power. Results that make things better for your employer, the industry or users as a whole. It can be as simple as solving a unique problem for other designers, creating something helpful that others find valuable or creating something significant and meaningful.

Here’s why these results matter. Results give you more control. Remember earlier when I said, “designing is amazing, when you’re in control?” This is what I’m talking about. Giving those around you (your employer, clients, co-workers, users) what they want means they grow to depend on you.

When your employer depends on you they’re far more likely to give you the freedom and control you need to do amazing work. You know what conventional results, i.e. doing a good job at work, looks like. But what do transformative results look like?

Let’s look at three examples.

Shouldiworkforfree.com

Jessica Hische, a letterer, illustrator and type designer saw a common problem in her industry. Designers were being abused. Clients promise designers more work if they’ll do the first design project for free. New designers fell for it. Hische ran into this problem herself and finally decided to do something about.

She created shouldiworkforfree.com.

It went viral. Her simple flowchart hit a designer sore spot. Her chart was covered on AdWeek, Fast Company, LifeHacker and other top 500 sites. The change was transformative. It cemented her status as an “expert.” It also gave her a tremendous amount of trust and power.

Clients came to her with a “you’re the expert, what should I do?” attitude.

Ruby on Rails

David Heinemeier Hanson, designer and developer at 37Signals, used the Ruby programming language to build Basecamp. David extracted Ruby on Rails from his work on Basecamp and released it as open source. Ruby on Rails would be used by companies like Hulu, Shopify, Twitch, AirBnB and SoundCloud.

More than 4,500 people have contributed code to Rails. David has created transformative change by simply sharing his work. He’s created something that impacts the lives of literally billions of users every day.

TastyTuts

Gareth David had a simple idea. He wanted to create tutorials for the creative community. As an educreator, he creates in-depth, beautifully done tutorials and he shared them for free on YouTube. It’s something that lots of other people have done.


Gareth stands out because his quality is outstanding, his tutorials are comprehensive. He takes beginners, helps them progress to competent intermediate designers and builds them up to knowledgeable pros. He’s focused on giving to others and the comments on his videos show he’s making transformative change.

Here’s the thing with transformative change…

It doesn’t have to be difficult and it doesn’t have to be hard. The sky’s the limit. If you’re creating something valuable for other people, something that solves a problem in a unique way, it’s transformative. 

Here are a few ideas to get you started.

Write a book

Contribute guest posts/content [Ed: to sites like ours!]

Start a podcast and/or be a podcast guest

Create flow charts and infographics

Create helpful code

Design free templates, fonts, icons, or asset packs

Post helpful explainer and tutorial videos on YouTube

Create regular research studies on design topics

Offer free/paid workshops at libraries, community colleges, universities

Create helpful partnerships, meetups, or events

Bring helpful deals, ideas, or applications to your employer

Can you see the secret behind these ideas? It’s value. If you’d like to regain control over your work you’ll need to know how to provide value.

This is the big secret we aren’t taught in school

The world is driven by value. The more valuable you are to those around you, the more influence, power and control you’ll have over your work as a designer. 


What about you? You’re running around doing everything for everyone else. What’s in it for you? What will you get out of it? It’s a legitimate question with a wonderful answer. 

It’s up to you.

Want to work from home? Earn a pay raise or the freedom to try new things? To work on amazing projects and receive preferential treatment? Provide so much value that your employer, your clients simply can’t afford to lose you? Then use the value formula to get what you need.

It goes like this:

Create X dollars of value for your employer, co-workers and users.

Capture Y percent of X.

That’s it.

It’s simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

If you’re in a miserable place where you lack the autonomy, mastery or purpose you need, find a different job. Then, work on yourself. Can you fix a problem that gets you recognition in your industry? Get to work. Think you have the makings of a great teacher? Show us.

Is Designing Bad For Designers?

If you’re not exceptional it could be bad for you. Exceptional designers aren’t like everybody else. They’re not special. They’re not untouchable.

These designers are exceptional because they use the value formula.

Employers, clients – they fight to keep them. Users gravitate towards their work. They’re paid well – more than their co-workers. They have more control over their work and their environment, whether they’re freelance or employed.

This sounds like a myth, but it’s reality for many designers

You can have it too.

Being a designer doesn’t have to be painful. Your employers and co-workers don’t have to understand structure, aesthetics or usability the way you do. They just have to trust you. Trust, as we’ve seen, comes from value. The more value you create for those around you, the more freedom, control and power you receive.

Because designing is better when it’s focused on value.

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Why Design Is Bad For Designers (And How To Fix That)

If you’re like most talented designers, you have an eye for aesthetics. You understand beauty, design, and symmetry at an almost fundamental level. It’s not just a nice-to-have, it’s an essential component that shapes how you see the world.

That’s the problem.

Most of the people around you, the people you work with, don’t get it. They don’t have an eye for design. They don’t understand the principles of design.

Designers Are Often Punished For Their Talents

Many designers are abused, neglected and taken for granted. It’s not supposed to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way, but for many creatives, it is.

Designing Is Amazing, When You’re In Control

Most of the time, you’re not in control are you? Most of the time you’re asked to create something you know isn’t very good. How many times have you heard a variation of, “Make it pop?” But, it’s more than that.

As a designer, you have an eye for aesthetics. You’re unconsciously aware of form, structure and layout in a way that non-designers are not. If you’re like most designers, you see the elements of design everywhere. If you’re a talented designer you’re orderly, observant and intelligent. You see and understand far more details than you share. It’s the hallmark of a brilliant designer.

Here’s why this is a problem.

Designers Are Consistently Required To Create Ugly, Poorly Performing Work For Incompetent People

When I say ugly I’m not just talking about work that’s visually unappealing. I’m talking about work that creates confusion, stress or anxiety in users. Work that pushes users and your employer further away from the goals they’re trying to achieve.

Non-designers have this bad habit.

They seem to believe they’re capable designers, that their expertise in one area, like say accounting, marketing, or investing, is automatically transferable to design. “It’s just design” they tell themselves. How hard can it be?

Non-designers wrap their awful requests in comments like these:

“I know you need four days to do this but it’s an easy project. You’re a decent designer so this shouldn’t be too hard for you to get this done in the next half hour. I mean come on, you should be grateful you even have a job. There are plenty of designers who’d love to have the opportunities you have. Just be grateful for the work you have.”

Maybe you’ve heard something similar?

Here’s the thing. Gratitude isn’t a cure for dysfunction. It’s a necessary and natural part of success.

Why design == suffering

Does design really == suffering?

It doesn’t, at least not in a healthy environment.

Okay, what does a healthy environment look like? It’s one where designers are given the freedom and constraints they need to create new things, to dream up new ideas. This typically includes a few essential ingredients.

Clear boundaries to work within. The do’s and don’ts. Clear instructions on the amount and types of risks you can take with your design. When to take these risks, why you’d go about taking them and when you shouldn’t. Boundaries can also include design philosophies (e.g. minimalism, simplicity) and values.

Frameworks to follow. A clear rationale that outlines the design process you follow on your team. Policies and procedures that outline how you go about creating consistently great work. Tools and resources used by your team to produce that work. Styles, samples and libraries (e.g. Zurb’s Foundation) used as a reference point.

Guidance and corrective feedback. Both inexperienced and experienced designers will make mistakes. As designers, we may run into a scenario where we’re happy with something that isn’t up to standard. Other times we may focus our attention on details that don’t move everyone towards their desired goals.

Ongoing training and support. Personal and professional development that increases your abilities and develops skills with new tools. Support when you run into trouble or need help. Strategic and tactical content that teaches you the when, why, and how concepts in design.

At first glance these seem pretty obvious, don’t they?

But they’re really not.

What happens when these ingredients are missing? Work shifts from a supportive environment to an oppressive one.

Oppressive environments create and maintain suffering

Your workplace runs on motivation. The more “engaged” people are at work, the better they perform. That’s the problem. Research shows most people are “disengaged at work.” That’s basically a roundabout way of saying most people hate their jobs.

Not surprising, is it? Here’s why.

Most Workplaces Rely On A Poor Motivation Strategy; The Carrot Or The Stick

Do what your boss wants (even if it’s horrible, soul sucking and tedious) and you get to keep your job. You receive some kind of financial reward. Resist and you’re punished. You’re hammered with more terrible work, placed on a PIP, demoted, or fired.

This is how we’re “motivated” at work.

Not very motivating is it? In fact, it’s this kind of poor motivation that’s created an environment of disloyalty.

In Drive, Daniel Pink’s bestselling book on motivation, Pink shares the secret behind motivation. Motivation, as it turns out, is based on three specific ingredients.

Autonomy. Our desire and ability to be self directed, to control our work to a certain extent.

Mastery. The ability to improve our skills as designers, to gain control and supremacy over our craft.

Purpose. The desire to create meaningful work that serves a greater goal.

As designers, how many of us actually can say we have this at work? If the research I shared above is accurate, not many. The question then, is why. Here’s a few of the most common reasons.

Design by non-designer. The designer’s work is consistently critiqued by non-designers who consistently ask the designers to violate their training, conscience, abilities. Their work is belittled, diminished or invalidated.

Dysfunctional management. Managers and clients make unreasonable requests due to their lack of knowledge, a misunderstanding of the basics and/or poor management. It makes sense then that 50 percent of employees quit their job to get away from a horrible boss.

Conflict between creating and selling. Many designers and developers despise sales and marketing teams. It’s hard to create meaningful work or feel you’re serving a greater purpose when you’re asked to lie, deceive, or manipulate users.

Doing trivial work that doesn’t seem to matter much to users, employers or yourself.

(This isn’t a comprehensive list.)

As it stands, designers hate their jobs for a variety of reasons.

“There’s nothing you can do to fix this…”

This is just the way things are. It’s a common objection that—fortunately for designers—is completely untrue. There’s a lot designers can do to fix a miserable situation. Why do so many designers believe their situation is hopeless?

Perception.

Many designers have been mistreated for so long, that they’ve simply accepted a lie. That this is normal, the way things are. But this isn’t the case everywhere. The good news, there is a way for designers to fix this problem. The bad news? Many designers will find a reason why the solution won’t work.

What’s the solution?

Creating results.

That’s it?! That’s the amazing solution I’ve been talking up all this time? It sounds like a complete waste of time, I know. While it sounds like generic and unhelpful advice there’s a whole lot more to this. When it comes to results there are two kinds:

Conventional results build trust and security. Being great at your job, going above and beyond, working well with others, etc. If you’re a designer whose work is excellent, you’re reliable and you’re someone your team knows they can count on.

Transformative results build trust and power. Results that make things better for your employer, the industry or users as a whole. It can be as simple as solving a unique problem for other designers, creating something helpful that others find valuable or creating something significant and meaningful.

Here’s why these results matter. Results give you more control. Remember earlier when I said, “designing is amazing, when you’re in control?” This is what I’m talking about. Giving those around you (your employer, clients, co-workers, users) what they want means they grow to depend on you.

When your employer depends on you they’re far more likely to give you the freedom and control you need to do amazing work. You know what conventional results, i.e. doing a good job at work, looks like. But what do transformative results look like?

Let’s look at three examples.

Shouldiworkforfree.com

Jessica Hische, a letterer, illustrator and type designer saw a common problem in her industry. Designers were being abused. Clients promise designers more work if they’ll do the first design project for free. New designers fell for it. Hische ran into this problem herself and finally decided to do something about.

She created shouldiworkforfree.com.

It went viral. Her simple flowchart hit a designer sore spot. Her chart was covered on AdWeek, Fast Company, LifeHacker and other top 500 sites. The change was transformative. It cemented her status as an “expert.” It also gave her a tremendous amount of trust and power.

Clients came to her with a “you’re the expert, what should I do?” attitude.

Ruby on Rails

David Heinemeier Hanson, designer and developer at 37Signals, used the Ruby programming language to build Basecamp. David extracted Ruby on Rails from his work on Basecamp and released it as open source. Ruby on Rails would be used by companies like Hulu, Shopify, Twitch, AirBnB and SoundCloud.

More than 4,500 people have contributed code to Rails. David has created transformative change by simply sharing his work. He’s created something that impacts the lives of literally billions of users every day.

TastyTuts

Gareth David had a simple idea. He wanted to create tutorials for the creative community. As an educreator, he creates in-depth, beautifully done tutorials and he shared them for free on YouTube. It’s something that lots of other people have done.


Gareth stands out because his quality is outstanding, his tutorials are comprehensive. He takes beginners, helps them progress to competent intermediate designers and builds them up to knowledgeable pros. He’s focused on giving to others and the comments on his videos show he’s making transformative change.



Here’s the thing with transformative change…

It doesn’t have to be difficult and it doesn’t have to be hard. The sky’s the limit. If you’re creating something valuable for other people, something that solves a problem in a unique way, it’s transformative. 

Here are a few ideas to get you started.

Write a book

Contribute guest posts/content [Ed: to sites like ours!]

Start a podcast and/or be a podcast guest

Create flow charts and infographics

Create helpful code

Design free templates, fonts, icons, or asset packs

Post helpful explainer and tutorial videos on YouTube

Create regular research studies on design topics

Offer free/paid workshops at libraries, community colleges, universities

Create helpful partnerships, meetups, or events

Bring helpful deals, ideas, or applications to your employer

Can you see the secret behind these ideas? It’s value. If you’d like to regain control over your work you’ll need to know how to provide value.

This is the big secret we aren’t taught in school

The world is driven by value. The more valuable you are to those around you, the more influence, power and control you’ll have over your work as a designer. 


What about you? You’re running around doing everything for everyone else. What’s in it for you? What will you get out of it? It’s a legitimate question with a wonderful answer. 

It’s up to you.

Want to work from home? Earn a pay raise or the freedom to try new things? To work on amazing projects and receive preferential treatment? Provide so much value that your employer, your clients simply can’t afford to lose you? Then use the value formula to get what you need.

It goes like this:

Create X dollars of value for your employer, co-workers and users.

Capture Y percent of X.

That’s it.

It’s simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

If you’re in a miserable place where you lack the autonomy, mastery or purpose you need, find a different job. Then, work on yourself. Can you fix a problem that gets you recognition in your industry? Get to work. Think you have the makings of a great teacher? Show us.

Is Designing Bad For Designers?

If you’re not exceptional it could be bad for you. Exceptional designers aren’t like everybody else. They’re not special. They’re not untouchable.

These designers are exceptional because they use the value formula.

Employers, clients – they fight to keep them. Users gravitate towards their work. They’re paid well – more than their co-workers. They have more control over their work and their environment, whether they’re freelance or employed.

This sounds like a myth, but it’s reality for many designers

You can have it too.

Being a designer doesn’t have to be painful. Your employers and co-workers don’t have to understand structure, aesthetics or usability the way you do. They just have to trust you. Trust, as we’ve seen, comes from value. The more value you create for those around you, the more freedom, control and power you receive.

Because designing is better when it’s focused on value.

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