#when u skinny people treat u better and u get more job opportunities

[giftedmotherfucker]

hw vs lw

[alastar-wyatt]

Lyaethus Black

Written in a rp-fashion with @ink-and-shadows  and myself   

mentions: @blackbay-wra @mozelledeliond @alliesdelimma @karthe-surick

With nothing to do out in camp as the scouts worked their way to follow the targets of the mission, Alastar had nothing better to do but think, and think, and finally pause. The weather was nice he realized. The feeling nostalgic. He ached slightly to be back at home, with Allie, and with a sort of normalized, but boring life. But he knew well enough he jump into the frying pan shortly after. Still, as he reflected, he remembered a strange memory that happened a few weeks before he had traveled to Dalaran...

 With September finally underway, Autumn was finally making its presence known in Stormwind. The sweltering, sticky heat of Summer was replaced by a refreshing crispness that meant sweaters and scarves would soon be reasonable, and the lush greens of the city's grasses and trees were well underway of their transformations into scarlet's, gold's, oranges, and browns. Pumpkins, squashes, and bales of hay found their way on to nearly every porch step, and great flocks of birds could be seen streaking Southwards in preparation for Winter. It was a beautiful, comfortable season that meant roaming the streets was finally a reasonable hobby once more. Or in Lyaethus' case, the ideal form of exercise. He meandered aimlessly through the streets, around and around, until he found himself looping back into Old Town and on the road to the Pig and Whistle. Now that he was a stone's throw from home, he slowed his stroll and flicked his gaze towards the crowds. Or, more accurately, the scant few individuals making their way to, from, or otherwise past the bar. And then, he saw somebody. Young adult. Short brown hair. In the gloom of the night, the man looked just like an old friend. Shock and surprise jolted through him, and he hustled after the young man with a gasp and an outstretched hand. "Gunther! Gunther, is that you? You made it," he called out through his heavy Alterac accent. "When did you get here?"

            The voice calling "Gunther!" Twice over didn't do much to stall the young man's diminished walk. Alastar was well-past absorbed into himself, but his instinct pulled him out as soon as a prickling feeling of someone gaining to close. Alastar naturally swirled, stepping back just barely feeling the tips of a man's finger against his own wrist. His free hand stopped behind his back as he gauged this man's lanky appearance. Lyaethus froze, his gaze flitting over Alastar. Hazel eyes narrowed hiding the dim amber glow of his iris. "I'm sorry, did you need something?" His voice held little emotion, his annoyance hard to hide.

            Lyaethus withdrew his hand slowly as he sucked in a deep breath, and a deep crimson flush crept into his cheeks. He swallowed and stammered out a weak, "I-I'm sorry. I... I-I thought you were s-somebody I u-used to know..." Awkwardness took hold of him as he struggled to figure out where to go next. Stiffly, he blurted out a stilted, "Let me-- I should buy you a drink for... This. Mistake?"

            An eyebrow rose in response as the man's chattering continued. A slow deep frown etched its way into Alastar's features. A short pain followed soon after lighting up one side of his frown into a half smile. "Don't worry about it," Alastar waved a hand absently in the air, then thinking twice, grinned widely. "How about we both treat ourselves to a drink? What do you like?" And without much thought, though the man seemed taller, Alastar hooked an arm around the man's shoulders and turn him towards the Tavern.

 Startled, Lyaethus glanced down at Alastar. He'd expected curt refusal! A snide brush off and a quick walk away! He hadn't gotten this far in his head! So he just settled for nodding along and let himself be ushered into the bar. "Uhm-- Yes. I can-- I-I can do that," he managed with a faint smile. "Are you a, uh, a-a regular here?"

 Alastar laughed full of mirth and merriness, noting gently the man had not answered his question. "Not really," he grinned. He walked beside the man straight into the doorway before easing away enough they were only a few inches apart. The brief glances they received from the customers sitting around were enough to indicate how disinteresting they were to fellow murderers, assassins, and wannabe spies. Alastar made his way over to the bartender, grinning like a mad man, but before ordering, he glanced towards his new found companion. "What do you like to drink?"

            "Uh-- O-Oh, uhm. Whiskey o-on the rocks?" A simple enough drink, despite his ornate, almost gaudy robes. It was a miracle he didn't jingle with hidden jewelry and coins at every step. Instead, he shuffled along as silently as a cat as he uneasily eyed the crowd in the bar. "Oh-- Uh. I never... I-I never got your name. If you're not, uhm. Gunther? I-I'm Lyaethus. L-Lyaethus Black."

             Layethus Black, Alastar mulled over the name as he ordered, "One whiskey for my friend, just a cup of water for me. Thank you." The Tender eyed Alastar strangely, but he moved swift enough to gather the order. "Who is Gunther?" Alastar turned his gaze over to the stranger. He seemed to be a mage---no, too broad, he reminded himself. Surely a magic user of some sort with such a fancy robe.

             Lyaethus canted his head to the side like a bird eyeing up a crumb. His smile softened. It turned apologetic. He shrugged his scrawny shoulders and ducked his head. "He was... I'm a... A refugee. From the Syndicate. He was... He was alright. A little younger than me. Not-- N-Not yet e-entirely ruined by th-the people there," Lyaethus explained demurely. He swallowed as he eyed Alastar over, then added, "He looked like you. A little. Same sort of hair and build. Different face, of course."

            Alastar held his smile as the man talked, though it was more of his slow observation of the man that held the smile more than just politeness as he leaned against the counter. As soon as Black stopped talking, the Bartender handed him his glass of whiskey and Alastar a cup of water. "Bold talking about that name around here," Alastar hid his grin behind his glass, with a single glance to the rough looking individual socializing under whisper's and heavy glares, they still didn't care too much. "Well, I apologize I'm not your friend. Nonetheless, at least you aren't stammering like a man with his pants down." With that, Alastar handed out his hand for a shake. "Alastar Wyatt, I'm a swordsman."

            Lyaethus shrugged his skinny shoulders once more and took a sip from his drink. He grimaced as it burned its way across his tongue and down to his belly, but he held his cup fast. This was not the place to take your eye off your drink, even for a second. "You say bold. My wife might s-say foolish," he mumbled as he passed his drink to his left hand and gave Alastar a clumsy, stiff shake with his right. Despite his silky gloves, the meat of his hand was entirely unyielding. Not boney, but... Hard, like a shell.

            Alastar was surprised by the man's handshake to the point he couldn't help the confusion in his eyes. He withdrew his hand, picking up his glass, and took another swallow. A fake hand, or something to do with magic? Alastar swirled his water cup as if it might be wine, then took another drink. "Bold and foolish harbor in the same port from my understanding," he finally remarked.

            "I... I suppose. I'm not sure Mozelle would agree... Which is fair. She's the wiser of the two of us," Lyaethus mused. "A swordsman, though? Impressive. Do you duel for coin, or run jobs as a mercenary?"

            Alastar good nature, semi-passive expression turned with a quick frown. "Mozelle? You said, Mozelle." Damn it. There must be more Mozelle's around the city! "Like the one with a gun? Bad temper? Equally disinterested aspect towards life?" Did she have an eye patch? Was he making up stories now? It had been too long since he last seen her, but just the thought made his shoulder ache and he couldn't help but roll his left side.

 Lyaethus flashed Alastar a sheepish smile and nodded. "Yes. That... That's my Mozelle. A lioness. You're a friend of hers? It seems like she knows everyone in the city," he admitted fondly.

 Alastar stared with a mix of bewildered and amusement. His Mozelle? He stifled a chuckle between tightening lips. "Oh, yes, well..." he rubbed slowly at his left shoulder. "When she's in a good mood I suppose. Well then, perhaps I should leave you too it. Pass on the good word for me huh? Maybe I can get some free passes from the guardian of Stormwind." With that, he set his half-finished glass of water down and a couple of silver.

 Lyaethus blinked owlishly down at Alastar. He nodded slowly and promptly forgot what the young swordsman had asked of him. "Of course. You... Uhm... Have a good evening? I... Seem to have spooked you, and I'm not sure why. Was she a... A love of yours once?"

            Alastar tensed, grunted, and cough as he waved a hand back. "No. A comrade a long time ago. I'm sure she doesn't even remember me," he was half-way out the door when he added under his breath, "Or the bullet she denied putting into my shoulder."

           He didn't care if Black heard him or not, but last time he dealt with Moz's friends... Alastar shook his head joining the small crowd on the street. It was best to avoid him. Who knew when Moz would freak out because he said something or got her husband in trouble. Oh pray to Elune he misheard that part of the conversation wrong.

           When Alastar returned home after a quiet, thoughtless ride, he couldn't help but stare up at the sky. Lyaethus Black? His eyes closed feeling the brush of the cool, if not quite yet, bitter air. So Mozelle decided to settle with someone? Now he had a chance to not worry about any idly questions popping out, he laughed.

           He laughed for a good while, before collapsing on the grass. Smokey was on top of him a second, enjoy the rare opportunity of his master coming below the height of the massive wolf-hound. Alastar chuckled trying to push the creature off him, but with no luck, he finally hooked to arms about the creatures massive body and pulled him to the ground. Smokey gave in with tail-wags, a wiggle, and a low bark before licks of all kind cleansed Alastar's face. "Lover? Clearly, I've known Mozelle longer than that man has. Hopefully, he doesn't say anything." Yet as soon as those thoughts left his mouth, his thought slowed, and so did the pats to the wolf-hounds belly. Smokey wiggled before pawing at him, catching the young man by the chin. Alastar snickered.

           "Well it doesn't matter does it. She'll think about it and move on, and then forget in a day." Alastar rolled on his back, allowing Smokey the moving room he required. After a moments whine, lick, and sniff, the big dog padded away. Alastar lifted his head, allowing his hands to act as boney pillows. The stars were bright and clear this night, and his mind flickered for a moment over the past. Over his very short time in Karthe's little organization, the crab overflow too which Alastar remembered clearly enough Moz's intention to blow him up if he didn't do something this time around.

[studiodenden]

"I'm not the decorator": 20 quotes on what it's like to be a lady architect

Looking back on this past year, there have been so much amazing progress in terms of gender, sexuality, and overall human rights. This past year is apart of our forward momentum but many industries, such as our very own architecture and design industry, still have an uphill battle due.

Architecture was traditionally a wealthy man’s hobby. Inspired by the Greek and Roman architects, Thomas Jefferson had a studio in his own home, Monticello, that he used to develop a unique form of American architecture. In 1767 he purchased a small mountain (Monticello means ëlittle mountain' in Italian) near his birthplace, Shadwell. He began construction that year, a process that would continue throughout most of his life. He rebuild Monticello several times.

Since then architecture has remained male-dominated - and for good reason, it’s inextricably tied to the construction industry. Truth be told, contractors aren’t going to be trading in their 210lb laborers for 130lb women anytime soon. Not in a capitalist country at least.

But until then we have our allies like,  Robin Pogrebin, who rote a fantastic NY Times story outlining countless women’s stories. We couldn’t help but not share…

”For a woman to go out alone in architecture is still very, very hard,” the architect Zaha Hadid said. “It’s still a man’s world.” Ms. Hadid often stated that she did not want to serve as a symbol of progress for women in her profession. But, inevitably, she did. A study on diversity in the profession released this year by the American Institute of Architects found that “women strongly believe that there is not gender equity in the industry”; that women and minorities say they are less likely to be promoted to more senior positions; and that gender and race are obstacles to equal pay for comparable positions. Since Ms. Hadid won the Pritzker Prize in 2004, the percentage of female architects in the United States has barely grown, increasing to 25.7 percent from 24 percent, according the Bureau of Labor Statistics.

After Ms. Hadid died on March 31 at 65, The New York Times, in an informal online questionnaire, asked female architects among its readers to talk candidly about their experiences in the profession: the progress they’ve made and the obstacles they still face on construction sites and in client meetings. Below are edited excerpts from a few of some 200 responses we received.

‘Pushing Through Assumptions’

“We absolutely face obstacles. Every single day. It’s still largely a white, male-dominated field, and seeing a woman at the job site or in a big meeting with developers is not that common. Every single day I have to remind someone that I am, in fact, an architect. And sometimes not just an architect, but the architect. I’m not white, wearing black, funky glasses, tall or male. I’m none of the preconceptions of what an architect might be, and that means that every time I introduce myself as an architect, I have to push through the initial assumptions. Every new job site means a contractor who will assume I am the assistant, decorator or intern. It usually isn’t until the third meeting that the project team looks to me for the answers to the architectural problems.”

—Yen Ha, New York

“African-American women make up less than 0.3 percent of the architecture industry. There are approximately 300 licensed African-American women architects in the whole of the United States. I am a rarity in the field. It’s overwhelming being in an industry that doesn’t see your demographic enough to correlate it with the occupation you love.”

—Farida Abu-Bakare, Atlanta

The Boys’ Club

“Subcontractors, who have [fewer] opportunities to work with women architects and designers, seem to think that we do not even know how to change a light bulb and that our only role is just to decorate interiors. Many subcontractors seem very surprised whenever I give them solutions.”

—HJ Kim

“There is always that moment, while stepping onto a new construction site, that a few might consider a woman an intruder in a boys’ club. This quickly dissipates as soon as I treat them with respect. After all, they are the craftsmen that work with the materials daily. I am eager to learn from them, and they can elevate my design. Being a woman has also had some advantages, as certain clients feel more comfortable working with a woman during the design process.”

—Amanda McNally, North Palm Beach, Fla.

“I’ve seen younger women with architecture degrees pushed into more drafting, more into interiors and landscapes, while the men seem to think they are “better” at designing the building structure and are given more face time with the clients. A woman in large firms may be kept in the background.

—Maddy Samaddar-Johnson, New York

“The design profession won’t be integrated until the construction industry is, too. (Good luck with that!)”

—Bronwyn Barry, San Francisco

The Commission Gap

“It is easier to get commissions from educational, health care and governmental institutions than from fields which are very male-dominated. The only female in a board room discussing a project is the one in the skinny dress, delivering messages and setting lunches!”

—Juann Khoory, Wellesley, Mass.

“I have heard discussions where Zaha Hadid’s name came up as a suggestion to do a high-rise tower, and the men around the table declared her too risky. This is emblematic of the obstacles inherent in the field of high-profile projects. There needs to be more awareness among women in a position to be clients to consider hiring architectural firms that have women in design leadership roles.”

—Claire Weisz, New York

“My eagerness to learn is perceived as ignorance. My strong voice and firm stance are perceived as ‘bitchiness.’ It’s unlikely and uncommon for women to get commissions, gain corporate clients and to be given high-level responsibility.”

—Patricia Galván, San Jose, Calif.

The Road to Success

“I did what most successful female architects did before Zaha: I partnered with my husband. Saying that sounds horrible, but I never thought it could be different. I simply chose not to swim against the tide. Yes, he knows I use him sometimes to open the road for me, and he is fine with that.”

—Flavia Quintanilha, Brazil

“There was a time when women were not allowed to be members of the Century Club. About that same time, as a young architect trying to survive, I was doing exhibition design and had been hired by an N.Y.C. art collector to do an installation of Piranesi prints for the Century Club. When the club learned that I was a woman architect, I was not allowed to install the exhibit. I, like many other women architects, found it much easier and less humiliating to just strike out on my own. I have been in my own practice now for 20 years.”

—Christine Matheu, Bloomington, Ind.

The Pritzker Path

“To get a few more Pritzker-winning women, let’s:

• Never call anyone over age 18 a girl, especially not in a client meeting. This is not cute; it is patronizing.

• Make sure you introduce yourself to women on the project. (I have experienced this countless times in a meeting, where someone introduces themselves to the rest of the team but somehow skips me.)

• Do not comment on their bodies/clothing more than you might a man’s. (Don’t make jokes about them dieting ….)

• Don’t apologize for swearing in front of them. This is 2016; I am pretty sure women can handle it.

• Don’t interrupt them or talk over them.

• Don’t devalue their social ability. Getting everyone together for an office event can show leadership and planning. Being able to communicate is a key skill in a field with so many consultants.

• Do promote women into positions of power and influence. My previous firm rarely promoted women. I eventually quit. Next thing you know, they promoted all the women in the office. I like to think something got through.”

—Amity Kurt, New York

The Work/Life Balance

“No overtime pay and no paid parental leave can make it hard to justify staying in a profession. As a new mom, I feel like I must choose between advancing to a principal, or being there for my child. I will forgo the opportunity of making principal if it means I can be an involved parent.”

—Rosemary Park, Cambridge, Mass.

“After my daughter was born, it was clearly not possible to support her and do great work. I work as an urban designer for a planning department in a major city — the culture of planners is remarkably different and healthy. I never had trouble until I accepted a top award, seven months pregnant, in front of a large pool of existing and potential clients. After building a strong reputation for great work, the phone stopped ringing.”

—Maia Small, San Francisco

The profession is losing women faster than imaginable. This is due to the low wages and long hours at the start of one’s career, as well as those seeking to be parents. My firm is predominantly women, and I offer lots of work/life balance to my team so they can lead fulfilling lives, given the many hats they wear each day.

—Carol Kurth, Bedford, N.Y.

The Glass Ceiling

Women struggle far more for institutional and corporate work and for high-level responsibilities. The ratio of men to women was 50-50 in my graduating class at Columbia University in 1992, but today, most of my female classmates have dropped out of the profession.

—Deborah Ascher Barnstone, Sydney, Australia

“I have practiced now for 40 years, and the percentage of women in leadership roles in the profession has improved only a small percentage in that time. After my first five to seven years, being treated as kind of a cute or sweet team member, I left for a position in urban design in the public sector, retaining my own self-identity as an architect/urban designer. Without that clarity, I’d have left the field completely. The women partners I know are still the people who left other firms to begin their own.”

—Rebecca G. Barnes, Seattle, Washington

“I ended up creating my own ‘mommy-track,’ working as a sole practitioner, doing mostly single-family residential work for almost 20 years. I had always aspired to work in the public sphere, and by designing high-end houses in Marin County, Calif., I had clearly failed on that front. At some level, I will always wonder whether I failed at my profession, or if my profession failed me. That said, I am an optimist and am actively involved in the Missing 32% Project [formed to illuminate gender challenges] at the American Institute for Architects San Francisco, so I can help figure this out for younger architects and for the profession itself, which is sadly hemorrhaging talent because it has been unresponsive to the needs of its members.”

—Sharon Portnoy, Mill Valley, Calif.

Mentoring

“I worked for Zaha when I was first out of college. I did not have an architecture degree, but she hired me anyway and then encouraged me to apply to graduate school when I feared I would not get in. (I did.) I credit her influence directly for my decision to pursue architecture.”

—Marion Cage McCollam, New Orleans