#Without doing an unpaid internship

[athinginmotion]

Not sure how many of these almost word-for-word identical rejection emails I can take 🙃

[formulaonedirection]

quadrant originals 💘

[chromoluminary]

I cannot stay at this job for a second longer than I have to this sucks so bad holy shit

[antirepurp]

i wanna do something more with my kofi bc it's still just kinda sitting there. like im not talking anything big or super exclusive bc i don't have anything like that to offer but idk i don't like that it's just a place for people to throw me twix bars atm y'know?

[signedkoko]

You are such a sweetie! Since your requests are open, if you feel inspired and motivated by this (otherwise you can 100% ignore it, writing is hard - I know), could I request a one-shot for Vox who falls in love with a imp!reader? Would love to see how you write their "forbidden" love, how would Vox feel and what if the other Vee's found out about it. It doesn't have to be a story, you can do it in headcannon format if you feel like it suits better! Just try to have fun ♡ -Nia

Intern [Romantic]

In which the techy overlord falls for one of his new hellborn employees, much to his dismay. Reader is genderneutral.

Song - Break My Heart by Dua Lipa

Any hellborn would die for the opportunity that graced you. Well, graced was not the right word; you fought for months against many candidates, beefed up your resume, and pulled some strings to get an unpaid internship for the Vee's. More specifically, a three-month internship at VoxTek with the potential to be hired in immediately after. 

It was a position people could only dream of, especially hellborn. Sinner-based companies had a tendency to place sinners above hellborns, but you knew that and used it to your advantage. You couldn't go in as equal; you had to know you were less and make up for it. 

The job itself wasn't all that bad, either. It was a lot of unpaid hours, from the crack of dawn to the dip of the sun or later, but it mostly involved the small details. Coffee, sorting, and delivering mail between sections were hard to mess up. 

There was the rare extra task where someone messed up and they needed someone to cover quickly. 

Today was one of those days. You were at the right place at the right time, sitting by the coffee machine, grabbing yourself your first cup of the day. 

That was when he entered, his shoes tapping on the floor with confident clicks, and when he spoke it commanded attention. 

Mostly because he spoke through every speaker in the building at once. 

"Who here can follow me? No questions asked."

Before anyone could chime in, his monitor did a full rotation of the room, his eyes narrowing when they landed on you. 

Your ear piece buzzed to life. 

"You, follow me. Now." The overlord spoke directly into your ear using the device, and knowing this may be an opportunity of a lifetime, you followed. 

There was no question about who it was: a monitor for a head, control of all technology, and a towering seven feet tall. Vox was the top of the top, and it was hard to believe you were allowed to so much as stand next to him. 

It was hard to keep up with his speed-walking pace, but he eventually led you into the mail elevator, hitting the twelfth floor while he muttered something about incompetence amongst hires and how he always had to take control of every production if he wanted it done right. 

With a ding and the slow release of the elevator doors, he took the lead once more, though this time he was walking slower and backwards, navigating with ease despite looking directly at you. 

"Alrighty intern, ready for your shot at becoming something more? Because our previous voiceover person just walked out on us, and now you'll be covering for them." He stopped with his back against a door, grabbing the handle and awaiting your reply. 

"But I only just spoke to..." 

"You're cute, you know that? How many videos do you think are out there with your voice? I listened to them all the moment I saw you." Vox only smiled wider when his words sunk in; he saw the usual flash of embarrassment as you pondered what he might have seen. Without waiting any longer, he pushed the door open, spinning so he was finally walking normally. 

It was a recording studio, and there were several other employees waiting, mostly those handling the recording equipment and some holding papers. 

Vox sat himself in a comfortable rolling chair in front of the glass window that overlooked the recording studio, spinning to hand you some papers that he took from a demon next to him. 

"Here is your script; all you have to do is read. Make it sound exciting! Something new, something beyond anyone's imagination, is now available to the public!" He put on a voice as he continued, demonstrating what he hoped you could manage. Someone ushered you into the booth and plopped some headphones over your ears. 

"From the top! 3...2..."

The whole process was a thrill, but you managed to run over the script in three separate recordings, of which Vox cited them all as 'stunning' or 'absolutely perfect!', though the producer claimed to need multiple for any potential recording malfunctions. 

For an overlord, he had been oddly kind and encouraging throughout the process, and he walked you out himself when everything wrapped up. 

Vox continued to speak about what the script was for and how excited he was for the launch, all while leading you through parts of the building you had never been to before. You thought after that he would have sent you back down and forgotten everything, but eventually you found yourself in front of your supervisor. 

"Vox! Sir- oh no, had our intern upset you?"

"No, no, not at all. Sorry, what was your name again? Ally? Yeah, listen, Ally, I need you to handle the paperwork they were assigned. Oh! And I want them promoted to my personal studio for tomorrow, too."

Before you or the sinner could ask questions, Vox was already out of there, chipper as ever. 

That evening, you went home with an upgraded badge and access card, along with details on your new position and expectations. It was a lot to get through, but you felt extremely proud of yourself for doing so well. Hell, you met THE Vox, and he wanted you to be the voice of VoxTek? 

While flipping through the pile of information, the most surprising aspect was the six-figure salary you were about to get started on. 

. . .

Surrounded by monitors, Vox watched various camera feeds as they traced your steps home. Vox saw you smile from several angles, the electricity between his antennae flickering. Each monitor had some kind of file or piece of information on you, and he was only pulled out of his trance when he got a call from Velvette. 

"Hello there, Velvette! What can I help you with today?" Leaning back in his chair, the overlord flicked his wrist, which shot the call from his monitor onto one of the many others displaying you. 

"I need your guys for a sh- wait. Vox, what the fuck is all of that?" While the fashionista originally had her eyes elsewhere, her gaze quickly fixed on his background, which was quickly followed by all the screens going blank with his logo. 

"That? Oh, oh no, its nothing at a-" 

"That's the imp you were talking about last week! The one you were trying to get to apply to VoxTek!" 

"Well, maybe, but-"

Once again, she cut him off with a gurgling groan. 

"Listen, I don't care who or what you fuck; just get your camera crew here and we'll talk about this later. Kay? Kisses!" Before she abruptly hung up on him, he could have sworn he heard a small 'at least they're hot' before the call disconnected. 

Tensed from the interaction, Vox could only groan and dramatically fall back into his chair, tapping his claws along the armrest. 

So what if he scouted you out? You didn't know that, and you were happy about it anyway! One by one, each monitor opened back up on your data, the overlord grinning. 

It was better this way; everyone would think it was the intern going after him, so nobody knew one of the top overlords in hell was dotting on some helpless imp.

Author's Note - I love Vox so much...hes so obsessive but he denies every accusation (its the same w Alastor lmao) like its going to hurt him! But thank you so much for the request Nia, I hope this interests you 🖤

Word Count - 1,219

[ohbabydollie]

Schlatt "OTK IQ test challenge" vs Schlatt "Unpaid Intern"

ughhh! i love him sm 😩😩 (lots of inspo from @d4ringv0id )

IQ test schlatt seems like the type to openly perv on you, yanking your panties out of the hamper while you’re barely in the shower, returning them to you directly and covered in cum.

if you ever think you can masturbate when he’s home, boy do you have a surprise coming. the second he realizes you’re getting off, he’s barging into your room and stuffing you with his fingers and making you cum until you’re whining for him to stop and complaining about how he’s gonna have blue balls and how unfair it is because he made you cum so many times until you agree to letting him fuck you.

meanwhile unpaid intern schlatt is secretive about it, embarrassed returning them washed and telling you how the laundry got mixed up, he’s red in the face as he hands you them, but you haven’t done laundry and you wore these yesterday.

you aren’t even aware when he’s in the apartment, so you’re masturbating loudly, without a care in the world as he’s listening in through your shared walls, fisting his cock trying to cum at the same time as you. you see him coming out of his room the same time you go to clean off your hand, his clothes are messed up and his glasses are foggy, falling off his face and his face goes red as he sees you.

let him find out you’re doing an internship at his father’s company and you’ll be fucked, literally.

oh boy, the ideas of them teaming up together is terrible in my mind rn

[artificial-transmutations]

Anger Issues

When Owen first came to this new city, in this new and foreign country, he was full of hope. A fresh start in an unfamiliar land. It was an adventure! The world was his oyster, and the possibilities were endless! He had just finished university and had a degree in art history, which should make it easy for him to find work.

As it turns out, that was a lie.

For three long, grueling months, Owen tried everything to make a living in the big city. The truth was that his degree often wasn't recognized, and even when it was, he wasn't considered qualified to do the job, often without any obvious reason. The financial reserves he had were draining quickly and his hopes of finding good and fulfilling work in the new city were getting smaller and smaller every day.

"You need experience to get a job, and you can't get a job without experience". Owen never realized how true this saying was until he had stumbled into that very situation. Desperate to get out of it, he finally found an unpaid internship in a museum for ancient art. It was a really interesting field for Owen, but it turned out his tasks were mundane and not related to the exhibits at all. Instead, he was confined to a small office room to scan and sort invoices - a tedious job and hardly what Owen had studied for.

So, one day, in his break, when he went through the exhibition as usual, a wooden figure caught his eye that was apparently brought here this morning. It depicted the torso of a man, showing a sculpted chest. The figure was cut off below the upper arms and above the legs. The face of the man was symmetrical and angelic, although frowning. Above the hair, it showed either a thick halo or some kind of hat.

Owen was inexplicably drawn towards the figure. It was well-preserved and Owen couldn't quite assign it a region or time period. Looking at the sign, Owen realized it had no information about this either. Clearly a curiosity!

Driven by his own desire for knowledge, Owen stepped closer, hoping to get a more detailed look. It was as if a faint whisper was coming from the grim statue, but that must have been his imagination. He reached out with his hand to touch the wooden surface, only to hesitate again. It was, of course, forbidden to touch the exhibits, but perhaps feeling the structure of the wood would help him understand the piece more.

As soon as he touched the surface, the whispers grew louder all of a sudden, and his fingers felt a slight jolt - but both sensations stopped immediately again.

Someone behind him was clearing his throat.

"Ahem. Owen. Do I need to remind you not to touch the exhibit?", Mr. Hastings, the director of the museum, said, looking sternly at Owen.

"Oh, no, Sir, I just thought... it might give me some better understanding..."

"Rules are rules." Mr. Hastings said, but he was smiling again.

Owen however felt a most unusual feeling bubbling up in him. At first, he didn't quite know where to put it, but it soon became very clear to him. He was angry! The rational part of his mind tried to understand why - there was no real reason. Mr. Hastings was right of course and judging by his smile, Owen really didn't have a problem. Regardless, he felt as if he had just been insulted the worst possible way. Before he could stop himself, he burst out:

"Do you know where you can put your precious rules? Fuck them! Fuck you! Fuck this whole place! You don't want me to do real work here?! Fine! I quit!"

Head steaming, Owen removed his museum badge from his jacket and threw it to the ground with such force that the plastic shattered. With another loud "Fuck you!", he ran off, leaving the befuddled Mr. Hastings behind, as well as the museum.

Only after he had walked a few blocks, Owens anger subsided somewhat. What has he been thinking? He should turn around and apologize at once!

Then again, it was an unpaid internship. Even though the way to quit this job hasn't been too professional, what was done was done - and perhaps for the better, too. He could focus on finding a better job now. There surely had to be something.

There wasn't. Owen had no better luck then before, but inexplicably, his tolerance for frustration had diminished. After the third denied application, Owen had become so angry that he actually punched a hole into the thin walls of his apartment. Alongside the anger, there had been some changes to Owen's body, as well: He seemed overall fitter and filled out his clothes better. He also found his libido increased somewhat. Where before he had jerked off perhaps once a week, he found himself hard now more and more often, and his hand was drawn to his cock even more.

Jerking off helped to cool the red hot anger somewhat that he found himself quite often in, so it was quickly becoming a daily thing. However, being constantly torn between being angry and being horny didn't leave much space for patience. His money was running dry, too, so, Owen finally accepted a job in a field that was far below his academic standards: He started a job as a fast-food cashier.

The red "FST" uniform, as the fast food chain was called, was tight on Owen's chest, when he started his first work day. They had probably given him a smaller size, even though they said it was XL. Owen was already feeling angry about that obvious mistake, but he swallowed his anger and let himself be introduced to the cash register.

The system was overwhelmingly complex. It had like a hundred different buttons, and Owen quickly felt his head swimming. It shouldn't be so hard to understand a fast food cash register, but apparently, this one was extra complex. Just his luck!

At some point, he just nodded as the manager showed him the functions of the device. The introduction wasn't very long, only ten minutes, but Owen didn't understand a thing. You really needed a degree for that monstrosity! Still, he was expected to serve his first customer right away, pure insanity.

The first order was easy enough, a plain hamburger and a coke, and after searching the right buttons for a good two minutes, Owen managed to put in the order. However, the second customer wanted a milkshake, too, and that was the final straw. They really couldn't expect Owen to juggle such complex orders in his mind AND put them into the machine. Angrily, he shouted out in frustration and let his fist come down on the cash register with full force, again and again. Of course, the thin metal and plastic yielded to his rage and the machine broke.

"FUCK THIS FUCKING JOB!"

This was the breaking point for Owen. Everything had gone wrong since he had moved to this fucking city. No job, no money, no nothing! He tried to wriggle out of the way-too-small uniform top but ended up ripping it apart instead.

The manager ran over and pulled him from behind.

"Stop that! Stop that right now!"

"LET ME GO! I QUIT!"

"You're going nowhere! You can't leave after what you've done!"

With an angry roar, the now half-naked Owen shoved the manager against the counter with full force and stormed off. He didn't care if the manager wanted to call the police, or sue him, or whatever.

As soon as he arrived at his shabby apartment, Owen took out his laptop and started looking for jobs. He didn't get very far, though. The computer was confusing, and Owen was still feeling angry from his last job. He finally managed to pull up his favorite porn site and started watching videos.

The normal porn he usually consumed didn't do a good job of calming him down today. He needed something rougher, something more primal. The female porn stars were too weak for the sex to be stimulating, he decided.

After clicking through a few more videos, he spied a thumbnail of two guys getting at it roughly. Brilliant. When there were only men involved, the sex would be much better. They wouldn't take shit from the girls, and they'd be strong. Much more satisfying.

Seeing two men having sex brought back his cock to full erection and soon enough, Owen splattered his cum all over his muscular torso.

As the post-nut-clarity set in, Owen realized he had a problem. He needed something to channel all that rage into before it destroyed his life entirely. After some research, he decided to join a Krav Maga club.

The raw brutality of the sport helped Owen to tune off the complicated world around him and made him feel happy for the first time in weeks. He trained often and hard, quickly stacking even more muscles on his already impressive frame. Of course, Owen wasn't clever enough to grasp the techniques of the sport, so he just substituted it by raw strength. A lot of kicks and hits found their way into his face, but he was healing quickly as well. Over the course of a few weeks however, the brutality left its marks in his face. His nose looked crooked as if it had been broken and his jaw looked manly, but not exactly beautiful.

Still, joining the club was the best decision he could have made. He met some new friends, who set him up with a new job as a warehouse worker. Carrying crates and heavy barrels from one place to another was the perfect job for Owen. He didn't need to understand what he was moving, nor did he have to do any paperwork (not that he would have been able to - Owen had his trouble with letters and numbers, which left him pretty much illiterate). He just needed to do what his manager said, and he was happy for it.

Besides the Krav Maga, he found another outlet for his anger issues. Since he couldn't afford his flat anymore, Owen moved in with a couple of garbage workers he met at the warehouse. As it turned out, they, too, were gay and enjoyed it quite a lot when Owen split their cheeks roughly, not holding back one bit.

[circulars-reasoning]

Hi, I hope this ask isn’t too invasive…

You’ve mentioned before that you’re an English teacher, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to speak a bit on how you became one (education? certifications?) and what it’s like for you teaching while living with DID.

The reason I ask is, I’m a senior in high school and I’ll be going to college in the fall. I’m really worried because I have so many alters who all want different things for my life. But in general, I’m drawn to teaching and many of my alters are okay with the idea of pursuing this as a career - especially if I can teach English, which has always been my best subject (I’m in the US).

I’m really scared about entering the adult world, and want to be as prepared as possible for this shift. Hearing from a system who followed the career path I’m considering would be really amazing!

If this ask bothers you or if you’re not comfortable answering it, I totally understand. Thank you for your time and consideration!

- Freya

Hey!!! Sorry I missed this ask -- I hardly use this blog and actually plan on deleting it soon. Just need to get around to reblogging the important posts.

But this is an important one, and I really want to respond here, in the hopes that you'll see it.

I'm an English teacher for 6th grade in the US, and I can say that, without a doubt, college was harder than being a teacher is currently. Do not let your experiences in college stop you from your goal. The professors will not be kind to you, especially if you don't know what's happening to you.

I'm going to pop this under a cut because boy howdy I am rambling.

In terms of college and working to become a teacher with DID:

Firstly, and most importantly: Scheduling. You will need to be completely on top of scheduling out your few years of college. You don't need to be perfect, mind you, but please be aware of what classes are required and when you will take them. My college fucked me over on this. The reason it's so vital is because most education programs in the US are 5 year programs -- 4 years of college, and a 5th year of one semester of a "practicum" (an unpaid internship at a school). During your practicum, you're not supposed to take any extra classes. I was taking 3 classes on top of my practicum to stay under 5 years. Don't do this. Either bite the bullet and do that extra 5th year of schooling, or plan accordingly so you don't get stuck the same way I did.

Now that that's out of the way:

DID definitely impacted my ability to study for things. It really helped having someone else holding me accountable; my partner, my roommate for 3 of my 4 years of college, really helped me out and basically did the education degree alongside me in spirit. If you can, find someone else to help you study.

That someone else should not be a fellow education major. This is because almost all of them will drop out by the time you graduate. That's a sorry truth, unfortunately. In my Junior Literature class of 6 students in my junior year, only 3 moved on with their degree; in my senior year, I was the only one who moved on. This is because college is fucking grueling, and everyone dropped out, thinking teaching would be harder (I'll get to that).

Don't try to overcome your disorder in college. Don't try to heal or recover while going through classes. Try to survive. You do not need to focus on recovery immediately, and it is a BAD idea to pile that much on your shoulders while in college and while teaching. Try to maintain and survive as best as you can. Recovery is a process and it will work on its own as you go through.

You can absolutely bullshit your way through an English degree, easy. It's not hard. Especially if you start writing about fanfiction in Lit 101 -- or at least, in my experience, that got me far. If you know you'd good at English, I would highly recommend it, esp if you're good at School English.

For your other classes, you'll likely have to do gen ed credits. Be creative and have fun. To fulfill my math credits, I took programming and "mathematical excursions" (you do fun shit with math and learn to pay for a house -- it was incredible). To fulfill science credits, I took Astronomy as a night class and got to look through a telescope during a night class for an A. It was awesome. (Well, ok, that class sucked, but you get the point).

DON'T OVERSTACK YOUR CREDITS. I wouldn't go above 18 credits per semester. I usually did around 16, and the minimum we could do was 12. Don't go minimum, but do not overstack. Again, scheduling, don't overschedule yourself.

You'll take a form of practicum each year more than likely. This will be where you go to a school and teach for a bit, and then you'll go do homework about what you taught. In your first year or two, you won't be doing almost any of the teaching; you'll shadow a mentor teacher who will show you how to do the thing. This is honestly so beneficial, but...

TAKE NOTES. For fucks sake, the memory part of DID fucking destroyed me in college, and notes would improve everything. Take double notes, honestly -- physical notes while in the school, and digital notes once you get home.

GET ENOUGH SLEEP. DID leads to insomnia so frequently. Start trying to keep good sleeping habits now, because it WILL get worse as college goes on. Do NOT do what I did and try to survive on 3 hours of sleep a night. It is not sustainable and you will catch every single disease these kids transfer onto people, I swear to god.

The Dean of Students will actually help. A lot. Please go to them if you're struggling. If you can't go, then send someone you trust to advocate for you. In my senior year when everything was going to shit with my mentor teacher (she was a horrible woman) and the admin at school were shitty to me (again, a horrible woman in charge), my partner went to the Dean and advocated for me. That mentor teacher was forced to retire from the school the next year, and my admin had to extend my semester by 3 days to give me a better practicum with someone who could actually do their fucking job. Do not feel scared to advocate.

Please. Please, if you remember nothing, remember this: do not listen to your coworkers in your final practicum. Don't listen to what they say about you becoming a teacher. These people are jaded assholes who, in my experience, want nothing more than to bomb the school. I wish I was kidding, but genuinely, so many of them are horrifically jaded and don't want to be there, ESPECIALLY when your practicum starts (which almost always coincides with state testing schedules). Teaching is awesome, genuinely, so long as you enjoy it.

And lastly for the college aspect: It gets easier. It really does. College was absolute hell for me up through senior year. This was because not only was I doing full coursework (ouch), but I was also starting to really understand and process bits of my trauma (yikes) and I was still with my abusers (yikes). This makes it so, so much harder, in so many ways. And I still did it. And now, here I am to live and tell the tale, and now that I am a teacher?

This shit is so much more forgiving. I have slipped up so fucking much, but as long as you do your best and mean well, your bosses will fucking adore you. They desperately need warm bodies in the room to help make sure the kids don't set fire to each other, and you are certainly going to fit the job description if you give a single shit.

Be open about some of your issues, but not all. I'm very open at work that I suffer from a disorder that leads to amnesia, but I'm careful about how I do this. "I actually have an issue that leads to a lot of forgetfulness, so if it's possible that you could send me a reminder of that meeting, I'd appreciate it." That's all I needed, and now we have a group calendar and my coworker has forgiven me numerous times for missing something.

Your mistakes as a system are completely seen as just. Normal Ass Human Mistakes. Forgot a meeting? Happens to everyone. Broke down crying in front of the kids? Shit fam, the teacher across the hallway walked out last week, you're doing remarkably just because you stayed.

The kids can fuck you up. Genuinely. They WILL trigger you. You WILL get memories of your childhood and it WILL hurt. And you will get through them with patience, time, and understanding. It'll be okay. Please, work hard on reminding yourself that these kids are not actively malicious. They do not understand your perspective.

To that note, almost every single teacher I know has a therapist. It is not a shocker to be in therapy. Most teachers need it. If you don't have one, I highly recommend getting one, if just to bitch about your coworkers with someone who will nod and say, "You deserved better than that, you're right."

Most of teaching is paperwork and meetings. Like genuinely, it's kind of ridiculous. We have meetings every Monday and Thursday, with occasional meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday. It's a LOT of meetings, and everything needs documented.

Work life balance. Please have one. This is when you start working on not bringing work home.

MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZZES ARE OKAY. GENUINELY. I was so firmly against them as a student in college -- "that doesn't test genuine knowledge!" Neither does school. Please save yourself the hours of grading and do a few multiple choice quizzes. In some counties the system you use will autograde them.

God I could talk about this for hours on end. I'm really genuinely happy to answer so many questions about this. If you want to know anything specific, feel free to ask. I'm also over on @circular-bircular and plan to use that as my main system blog, so you can ask me more questions there if you want.

You've got this. I am absolutely rooting for you.

[thatshappinessforme]

When We Are Together - Pt. 1 (?)

omg...hi. i'm really here rn. posting this. at nearly 4 am on a monday morning. im nervous. i could vomit. so...this has been in my head for forever. literally. the idea is massive. it extends so far. it's seriously a whole universe in my little brain. it took so long to get the basis of this all out on paper, but, i'm hoping this is a series...a long one. the title isn't going to make much sense right now, but i pinky swear we'll get there eventually. so...without further ado...here she is...(EEK!) (also i have no idea how to set this post up so bear with me lol)

so i guess i just lost my fanfic writing vcard💌

_____________________________________________

word count: 2.4k

cw: just a little swearing, maybe a bit of bad writing, also maybe typos?? might be a little boring because it’s mostly to just like set the scene idk? (eventually the plan is to have a lil smut or smth but this really is just an intro lol)

_____________________________________________

The day starts as usual. You wake up to the sound of your alarm and your roommate’s hair dryer blaring through the thin walls of your Brooklyn walk-up. With a groan, you peel yourself out of the warmth of your bed, go to your desk, and open your laptop, holding onto a shred of delusional hope that one of your classes might be canceled for today; they rarely are…but you can’t blame a girl for being an optimist. 

You scroll through your inbox, refreshing, and refreshing – you really don’t want to go to class today. Blame the essay you’d procrastinated that you’d spent all of last night speed-writing. Blame senioritis. Blame the unpaid music publicity internship that you’d been letting eat up your time in hopes of scoring a good job. Blame the frigid snow and ice that seem to be taunting you from outside your window. But, luckily it’s a Friday.

You refresh your inbox one last time, just for good measure. And, something actually comes in. But, it’s not from one of your professors. It’s from some company named “Dirty Hit.”

You raise an eyebrow and open the email, thinking it must be something related to one of the countless jobs you’ve applied for in the last few weeks, preparing for graduation at the end of the semester.

Y/N,

I’m a representative with one of our bands here at Dirty Hit. We’re really impressed with your work and have an opportunity we’d love to discuss with you, if you have a free moment this week at some point. Are you based out of New York? Get back to us when you can. We’re looking forward to hearing from you.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

“That’s weird,” you whisper to yourself, reading the short, ominous email over and over again. It’s not everyday that a label reaches out to a random college student to work with them. You’re not really sure what they could possibly be impressed with. You’ve just done minor PR internship work with underground bands from the east coast – that’s not exactly impressive. It sure as hell doesn’t warrant an email.

“Y/N?,” you hear one of your roommates and best friend, Vivian, call from outside your door before walking in, not bothering to knock. The two of you are close, almost like sisters at this point. In some ways, you’re exactly the same person, but in others your polar opposites. She’s a little bit more outgoing than you are, but she always helps to get you out of your shell. “Do you think I can get this guy I’m talking to into the venue tomorrow night? It’s just at The Soundwave, right?,” she asks, plopping down on the corner of your bed. 

Shit. You completely forgot you signed up for an open mic tonight. You’d been playing your songs at small bars in Brooklyn and Manhattan for the past year or so. Songwriting had always been a bit of a hobby for you. So when you’re a broke college student in one of the most expensive cities in the world, you just find tricks to get you and your friends to do fun things for free. You’d learned a while back that performing at open mics usually meant you and your friends could get into bars and clubs without having to pay a cover, so you’d been spending your weekends doing that for a while. It’s all for fun. Sure, you like performing and put a lot into your songwriting, but pursuing it isn’t even quite a dream for you. You have an impending college degree you’ve worked your ass off for. In every sense of the word, music was a hobby for you. 

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem. He might have to pay the cover, but it’s not like it’s the sort of thing where people buy tickets. You know the drill. But, obviously you’re my plus one, so no cover for you,” you nod, still staring at your laptop screen.

“What are you staring at, over there? Everything okay?,” she asks, getting up and moving to stand over your shoulder at your desk. You move your head a little so she can get a good look at the words on your screen. You watch her face as she reads the email, her lips dancing on each of the syllables as you watch her process it. “Dirty Hit? What the hell is that? Sounds like a porn company. Impressed with your work? Do you have a booming, secret OnlyFans I’m unaware of?,” she jokes. 

I laugh and playfully nudge her arm. “No, no,” you giggle, “It’s a record label, I think. I’ve heard the name thrown around a few times at my internship. I think they’re kinda big.” You tab over and do a quick Google search. Immediately, a sea of popular artists and bands pop up under the label.

“Holy shit. Beabadoobee? Bleachers? The 19 fucking 75? I have their fuckin’ poster on my wall. They’re cool as shit,” she reads over your shoulder. “I mean, I have no idea what they could possibly want from me. My resumè isn’t all that impressive. Sure, I’m planning on going into music PR, but there’s no reason why I would stand out against someone who has like…an actual career under their belt,” you ramble, trying to make sense of the 67 words in haunting your inbox. 

There’s a long pause, both of you trying aimlessly to make sense of the email. “Well, you’re gonna email them back, right?,” she eventually asks. You take breath, starting a reply to the email, leaving your cell phone number.

You try to focus on anything other than waiting for a reply. You do your best not to let your mind wander into the what-ifs, but as soon as you get done with your lectures for the day, you check your phone for any response.

Y/N,

Thanks for getting back to us so quickly. The band and management is also in New York for the next few months for a project. We would give you more information over email, but much of the matter is highly confidential. We have a studio space at Electric Lady in Greenwich Village that we could meet at, if that works for you. I know it is rather short notice, but could you meet this evening at some point? Let us know.

Best,

The Dirty Hit Team

You quickly reply to the email on your walk back from campus, confirming the meeting for later this evening. You get back to your apartment and practically tear apart your closet trying to figure out what the hell to wear. You know it’s a business meeting, but it’s also for some mystery band. You don’t want to dress unprofessionally, but you also don’t want to seem uptight. You decide on a black mini skirt with tights and a chunky black turtleneck sweater. You finish primping and step into Vivian’s room, practically out of breath from all the outfits you’ve tried on and scrapped.

“Okay, if you were a band looking for…a PR representative…? Would you hire me?,” you ask her, standing in front of her bed as she looks up from her phone. She looks you up and down and grins, “Of course I would, Y/N. You look great,” she reassures you, sensing you’re anxious, “So, you really think this is just a PR gig?”

“I mean, yeah. What else could it possibly be? It couldn’t be my music. I’m not even on any streaming platforms; I don’t promote it at all,” you say with certainty. She shrugs and smiles, before wishing you the best of luck as you head out the door.

You get on the subway and head to Electric Lady. The train has always been one of your favorite parts about living in New York for college. Putting your pink headphones on, looking out the window into the catacombs that stretch throughout the city, people watching. It’s where you did your best thinking. 

You get off the train and walk through the streets, your headphones on and your music blasting, only interrupted occasionally by Google Maps telling you where to turn and such. Eventually the robotic voice in your ear says “Arrived” and you look over your right shoulder…here it is. You're right on time. You go to open the doors, pushing on them gently; must still be locked. You sigh, assuming that its to be expected. That this is simply upholding a prophecy of some sort that the band and music-industry-folk run behind…until you hear a laugh.

“It’s a pull,” you hear a man’s voice call out with a slight chuckle. From just those three words, you’ve determined that he has one of the thickest English accents you’d ever heard. You look over your left shoulder and see a man leaning up against the wall of the studio smoking a cigarette. “What?,” you ask, confused as you look over to him. He has a hood on and you can’t make out his face, or what he was trying to tell you. “The doors. It says right on them. ‘PULL,’” he chuckles, tossing his cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his Adidas sneaker, walking over to you. “Oh, um, thanks, I’m an idiot. I almost gave up,” you chuckle, pulling the door open this time. The man follows you into the studio, holding the door open once you tug on it. You look back over your shoulder to thank him for holding the door, the first time he’s been close enough for you to make out his face; Christ, it’s Matty Healy.

“I know who you are,” he says to you with a cheeky grin as he starts walking into the back of the studio. You just stand there near the doorway, the gust of cigarette-scented, cold January air lingering around you. You’re perplexed, to say the least. He keeps walking down the hall before finally turning over his shoulder, “You’re just gonna stand there? You have a meeting. Wouldn’t be very professional of you to stand us up,” he teases dryly. You blink a few times before nodding, following him, still in a bit of disbelief that this was the band that had some sort of ‘interest’ in you.

He shows you into a studio in the back. Once he opens the door, there are four other men sitting there, three that you also recognize from your roommate’s wall. The other, a bit older, more professional looking. 

“Y/N! I’m Jamie, I manage these blokes. Thank you so much for agreeing to come meet with us today. I know everything was rather vague on the emails, but…we had to keep it that way. But, now that you’re here, let's talk, yeah? Are you familiar with The 1975?,” the older man asks you, in a super friendly manner as you sit down on a plush chair in the corner of the room. Every eye in the room is glued to you. The air is almost sticky with anticipation. You take a deep breath and try to slap on the most composed, thoughtful, professional smile you can manage.

“Um, yes! Of course,” you nod, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m actually a fan of you all. Really, I listen to your stuff with my friends – you’re fantastic.”

“Good, good. We’re glad to hear it,” he grins, looking around at the boys who also all look to be pleased. Even though everyone’s eyes are on you, you feel Matty's specifically, practically burning a hole in the side of your head as he stands, still leaning in the doorway.

“We’re impressed with you, Y/N. So, I’m just going to get on with it. George went to a little bar in Bushwick last month and sent us a video he took of you singing one of your originals…you’re bloody fantastic. We’re going on tour this summer. We want to do something a little different this time with our opener. We want to build someone from the ground up. You’re it. We want you. What do you say? You interested?,” he explains with a wide grin, his tone casual like he didn’t just tell you the craziest shit you’ve ever heard. 

Jamie’s words hit you in slow motion. You look around the room, the air moving from feeling sticky to feeling ice cold, jolting you awake. “I’m sorry…what the actual fuck did you just say?,” you blurt out blankly, any ounce of composure you may have had completely gone. 

You immediately catch yourself, your language, your lack of professionalism, though, “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I…that just came out of my mouth…I-,” your face goes bright red as you desperately try to correct yourself.

The room erupts in laughter, the men you recognize from Viv’s poster nearly barreling over off the sofa. Jamie’s jaw on the floor as he howls, slapping the table in front of him. You look over your shoulder to see that Matty’s still in the doorway, and he’s just standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, I think we’re gonna get along quite well with this one,” he remarks, licking his lips, weirdly impressed with your mispeakings.

You can’t help but sigh softly and shake your own head when he looks at you like that; something in you shifting as if he’s the only person in the room; as if he was the only person who'd ever laid eyes on you; as if he was the only person ever. As if, the offer you got just moments before wasn’t the most absurd thing that had ever happened to you. As if you didn’t need to thoroughly think this all over. As if you could make the decision right now.

You look back over to Jamie, who’s still chuckling. Before you can give yourself the time to overthink, you swing one of your legs over the other, lean back into the chair and smirk, “Jamie, where the hell do I sign?” 

…and this is how it starts.

[mimi-is-so-horny]

okay, so... you know how sometimes a day starts lovely, and then it goes to shit? and sometimes, you feel like you've done this to yourself? actually, you have done it to yourself. anyway.

i made a point to wake up early today to make Sir and Anna breakfast and to write them a note thanking them for fucking me so well yesterday, and for being pretty much the best thing in my life right now. i felt very grateful and i know i'm very lucky. i think they appreciated that, too.

i blew the candles on my birthday cake naked on Sir's lap - i've been 25 for a couple of days, and i usually hate my birthdays, but Anna insisted we should do the whole birthday thing properly. Sir wrote me a birthday card that almost moved me to tears. He groped my tits as i blew my candles.

for context, i used to want to enter academia in combination to committing to a totally different career path. what i'm doing right now isn't even my Plan C, so of course, i feel a bit like a failure. i'd written a chapter in a book that discussed some recent developments in my field and placed them in a behavioural/institutional context - the book was published this year, and the complimentary copy they sent to authors arrived on my birthday. i should be happy, right? but i feel so defeated, and so dumb, and like this is the first and last good thing i got to do before giving up on my aspirations completely. sure, i'll still apply to enter a more commercial side of my field next year, but that's still just more "sustainable", financially, and more difficult than i thought it would be. all this effort for something i won't really value or enjoy, yuck. and what if i fail, again? anyway. Mimi's whiny ass.

so Sir asked me to read my chapter, and i said yes, sure. He wanted to "see how i think". why not, right?

He fucked me yesterday, and this morning, and at noon, and it felt so good. and now He came to my room, to tell me He read my chapter, and while i felt vulnerable i tried to look cool asking Him what He thought of it.

and He showered me in compliments, and asked me why am i here, and not at a Big Prestigious University™ doing research? i told Him that's why i tried, and the Big Prestigious University™ didn't do shit for Mimi in a post-covid job market where she had to care for her family and couldn't work Prestigious Unpaid Internships™. and still, with no network or real mentors that cared more about guiding me than fucking me, or plagiarising me (lol), my options narrowed. and He knew that, so why was He asking me? and then He asked more questions, and i got increasingly angry and i cried and told Him to leave my room, please. well, at least He did.

so now i have to go downstairs and apologise for lashing out at Him for essentially caring. that was just me projecting - how mad i am at myself for failing, and for giving up, and and for being too lazy to try again - on Him. but i also don't want to do that, because i can only taste how i'm not working in the city i want, and how the people i work for are surprised when i can introduce better corrections than them, and how i am a grown woman that is already bitter about not being where she wanted to be. how i pretend to have given up, when in reality i'm still kind of grieving the people i thought i could be, and realising it can always get worse. am i making myself into a victim: poor-me, poor-me? or am i entitled to my anger and sadness? i don't know, and Sir knows something sad happened to me without my consent, a long while ago - so what if He sees me as a victim, too? am i really that stupid and that passive? what if i'm wasting His time, too?

i don't think i use kink as a coping mechanism or as a distraction; i'm just happy it's an area of my life i'm currently getting exactly what i want, exactly in my own terms and limits - i've rarely gotten that much respect and reciprocity in "vanilla world" - be it work, or education, or friendships. but that fact also makes me sad. why can't i have some of the things i want, sometimes? why was it "Rejection Letter"+"Your Flatmate Lost Your Cat And Now Won't Help Or Speak To You"+"Your Supervisor Wants To Fuck You And He's Angry Now!"+"Your Family Is Asking For Money, Again!!!", and not, like, slightly better? it's hard to feel empowered now. that sad six-year-old is here again, and she wants good stuff i don't know how to give, because i'm out of fucking candy (or, y'know, drugs. because i don't do that shit anymore).

anyway, that will be a difficult conversation. and i feel sorry for Him, for having to deal with me.

well, that was a very self-centred ramble by a fairly self-centred person, so i'm sorry if you read this? but also it was your choice to do so, meh. drink water, wear sunscreen.

[lexkent]

I just found out I got 100% on a final paper I'd been worried about but instead of feeling excited I'm depressed because I brought pounds of to-be-tossed chicken home from work to help me afford to get through these next 3 weeks without work and it all tastes bad and old even though I just cooked it 2 days ago. and I accidentally left a new jar of mayo to freeze in my car and it's all separated and oily. so waste and more waste i can't afford. and next semester (and the next, and the next, and the next) I have to do an unpaid internship 20 hours a week as a full-time student when financially I've been needing to work 30 hours a week at my job just to get by. so 50 hours of work a week in addition to being a full-time student i guess? I've worked hard and my grades are as good as they can be but it feels like it's for nothing because I'm broke

and this is the most time I'm ever going to have off work/school but I can't do anything but sit still and try not to spend anything. I haven't bought a single Christmas gift yet

I'd been working with the "it'll all work out mindset" and it could still all work out but suddenly it's not looking good

sorry just feeling depressed today

I have to go apply for health insurance now

*I was looking up what to do to fix the off taste in the chicken and people are saying canola oil can give it that flavor. So I'm going to try to mask it and try to feel better about it being the oil vs something I'm detecting wrong in the chicken

*after 8 years, I asked my dad if he could begin paying me back the money I loaned him. he seemed irritated, I cried a little, and I don't know if he'll follow through, but at least I did it

[gremlingottoosilly]

Just one shot [Military photographer!Reader x CoD characters]

You successfully escaped the hell of the art school — in debt, with nothing but your(shitty) camera, a diploma and disappointed parents who never understood your life choices. Being a part if the military wasn’t your first option, but what else can you do? And at least, people here are fun to work with…

Content: female!Reader, lots of bad jokes, young!Reader, nationality is not stated but has a strong accent, a little bit of angst, I have really vague understanding of the army, Reader is short&not really strong, slow burn, Reader is shy and not very social

Focus in this chapter: Soap x Reader

📸🤨

You never wanted to be part of the military — Jesus, even the mere thought of confrontation with someone made you shiver. Maybe, that’s why you always hid behind the camera lenses. Your very first phone with shitty pixelated pho quality, slightly less grainy old polaroid from your father — you were always clinging to the feelings of calm and safety that came with waiting for the right moment.

Hiding was always easier — from your peers, from annoying adults that would keep bothering you about slightest things. Why you were so quiet, why you haven’t made any friends throughout all of your school years. Why you decided to study in art college, knowing full well that your parents would never support your decision. Perhaps, it was just another way to escape. You made a few friends, people who you barely knew but who were just as quiet and meek as you are, so you could hang out without bothering each other too much.

You weren’t rich enough for unpaid internships and high quality equipment, so your options after the graduation were…few, to say the least. No matter how many weddings you filmed and how much you were paid for kids albums, it was never enough to cover both your student loans and basic necessities. You tried working more, eating less, basically running from one side of the town to and just for a few photoshoots that would allow you to barely scrape for rent with two roommates and food on sale. You knew that this can’t go on — and you felt the pressure on your shoulders with each part time job that you had to take.

There is a saying — military for a male is the same as being a stripper for a woman — so you decided that joining would be…well, better than nothing. It’s not like you had many other options, to be honest. Either this, or enjoying the sweet embrace of even more loans piling up right until you would be forced to sell your camera and beg for someone to kill you quickly. At least, army hired photographers. And promised huge money, weekly leaves and, of course, free housing. Lots of adventures also — aren’t this great?

📸📸📸

It wasn’t…half as bad as you anticipated. Worse, actually. Two months of training almost made you question everything that you previously experienced in your life, considering the fact you were never athletic or interested in combat trainings. Almost every of your sparring sessions failed so miserably, that you were the only recruit who got forced in only doing the shooting trainings. Perhaps, instructors were afraid that some of your teammates would just kill you one day in close combat imitation, and this would leave the whole base without only person who would finish the yearbook and could hold camera straight.

Close combat was humiliating, considering that the only thing you have to show for yourself is your tiny size and your speed — that never actually helped you without a weapon to help. You, however, quickly found out that sniper trainings are not as different from some of your field trips to make photos of local fauna. You liked sitting in one place for minutes or even hours, gently pressing the trigger whenever a right training target would show up — and was it different from sitting in the wild of your hometown, trying to catch a rabbit on your old camera? The results of shooting trainings almost made you a sniper — but you still convinced the instructor to just let you do your thing and filming the content for a military paper that no one would read.

Maybe, that’s why you ended up here — standing in front of a tall(well, pretty much everyone is taller than you) person with a mohawk. Fashion choice that made you squint and blink a couple times just to see that he really is having this haircut. And smiling at you with expression that didn’t make you feel safe and comfortable, at all. If anything, his smile made you feel shiver running down your spine, and heat coming to your cheeks. You was never good in talking to attractive people. Or talking in general.

— What ya doing here, lassie? Sure ya ain’t lost?

You, with all kind regards and politeness that were forced into you by the trainers, had no idea what this man was talking about. Everything that you knew about him was his callsign — Soap, guy with weird ass haircut — and that he is a sergeant. So, your first victim to making a good photos for Task Force yearbook — even if this particular group only had like 4 people. 5, if someone stupid enough would dare to include you.

— I, um… — ah, you were never good at small talks, and just wanted to make a quick portfolio photo and get this over your to-do list.

— A photo for the yearbook. It’s, um, it’s kind off mandatory, but we can do it wherever you would be comfortable. We still have time, so yeah, no pressure.

— Wait. Ye tellin me that a bonnie like ye going to make a photo if me? Shite, should have dressed nicer.

You really, really tried to understand him. But between blushing at his mannerisms and trying to maintain confident eye contact, basic hearing comprehension fall as a casualty of war. You licked your lips, steadying the caners in your hands. At least you are professional enough to not have them shaking.

— We don’t have to do this now, but a sight of you in almost in full uniform would make a good natural photo, so…just a quick one, sir, I promise.

— Aye, let’s get this over with. Can’t make a lassie wait ‘til am get out of shower. Going all natural, eh?

For one scary, deadly second, you imagined making a nude calendar with him. This would certainly find its audience, and would be a great way for you to make money, but…wait, what are you even thinking? You are in army, goddamit, not in college!

You smiled awkwardly, positioning your camera in more comfortable way. Just a few photos in front of a plain wall — just like you did with school photoshoots. The only difference is that the army actually gave you a better and more expensive equipment, so now you can even have a tripod that is not some garbage from Aliexpress. Truly, your country cares about you.

— Just…do your thing, sir. Pose however you like, I will make a couple options for us to choose from later.

He smiled more wide, as he changed his pose a little bit — broad shoulders, eyebrows raised. A riffle in his hands to not let anyone forget that you in the middle of military base, and you are nothing but a silly girl who decided that going into wolf’s den would be a good idea. At least this wolf seems harmless enough.

Then he decides to wink and only your professionalism saved you from dropping the tripod in the ground.

📸📸📸

— I will find you when I will be done with editing the photos, okay?

— What’s there to edit, eh? Though my natural braw was enough?

— It sure is, sir, it’s just a couple light tweaks, some color adjustments…nothing really, you are a pleasant…model to work with.

You wanted to die from being embarrassed so much — judging by the bright redness of your face, you were supposed to pass out from the amount of blood coming to your head, an hour’s ago.

— Alright, lassie. See yer around. Never knew we would have such bonnie in our ranks. You sure yer ain’t civie?

— I passed combat trainings just like you, so, um, I quite sure that I’m not a civilian anymore. Being a photographer is a valid job, you know…

— Sure is, hen. Just don’t get in the way, alright?

You are not entirely sure whether he liked you or not — the way he was winking and smiling at you during the photoshoot made you flutter, but then he started talking again and…you are feeling out of place. Like a fish being dragged out of the water and forced to climb the tress among a crowd of wild cats. Yes, that is exactly how you are feeling right now.

— I would try my best.

You hated how weak you sounded — but you can clearly understand why he look at you this way. For him, you are most certainly just a dumb little doll who is trying to fit in while not even having enough muscles to lift a riffle without struggling. And with such arbitrary job as yours are…

How exactly are you going to fit in?

🧼🧼🧼

Lassie was…he can’t exactly explain why there is something wrong with her and he can clearly see it, but she was weird. Not fitting up certainly — not with this meek look on her face, a shaky camera and small posture that almost made him want to grab her by the collar, like a cat, and throw her right in his bed outside of the base.

Johny liked how the new recruit would blush almost each time he would say something, and how soft her voice sounded — the first time he saw a girl in the military who is openly showing her weaknesses. It almost made him scared for her. It almost made him angry, because while he is a good man who will bot take advantage of her shy personality, he knows about people who certainly will.

Photos were great, however. Perhaps, he would have to keep an eye for anyone who will try to harm this little lassie. At least, until he would decide, what he should feel about her.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Weird question but do you think its possible to become a zookeeper without a degree? I'm 29 and don't have the time, energy, or money to go back to college and fear I've missed my chance at my dream career. I'm not sure how to get experience or what I could possibly do to help my resume.

It’s definitely possible! Not super common, but possible - and much more so than it would have been a couple of years ago.

When I was in college (early 2010s) and wanting to enter the field, there was a pretty clear pipeline: four year degree, unpaid summer internships, then apply for a part-time or temp position somewhere, and volunteer somewhere until you get a first job. This is still somewhat of the way it’s done at bigger AZA facilities.

But, interestingly enough, things are changing. There’s two things really driving that. The first is the massive push for increased DEAI efforts in the zoo industry. After the big commitments AZA and many individual zoos made during the BLM protests in 2020, one of the big conversations that started was how inequitable zoo hiring and especially internship programs are. Requiring four years degrees and large amounts of unpaid labor before getting a job - and paying poverty wages once someone gets that job - biases success entering and staying in the zoo field towards people with generational wealth. I honestly didn’t think the advocacy that stemmed from those discussions would do much, and I’ve been very pleasantly surprised to see that I was wrong! There’s a been a lot of real movement towards creating paid internships and making hiring requirements more equitable. It isn’t happening everywhere, but I know it’s becoming more and more common (and last year there was a ton of presentations about this on the AZA annual meeting schedule, which is a huge deal). The other thing that’s happening is less formal, but equally fascinating. I’ve been present for a lot of discussions about how there’s a disconnect between what zoos are hiring for (formal education, complex resumes) and what skills the job actually requires. It seems like it’s easier to train people to work with animals and learn their behavior than it is to teach people practical skills like how to do manual labor without hurting themselves and operate heavy machinery. I’ve seen some discussions of how some of their most successful new staff have come from adjacent industries or even just other “blue-collar” jobs that involve similar types of work, regardless of what their academic background is. Which is great! Because that adds to equity and diversity of staff across the industry.

To start off the rest of my answer, there has to be a disclaimer that I’m not in hiring, so I can’t say for sure what will get you a job (and while I’ve volunteered and interned, I have never been formally hired as staff by a zoological facility). So my advice for the rest of this comes from watching and listening to a whole ton of industry folk for the past decade or so, and from what I’ve seen my friends do that’s been successful to get jobs in the field.

In terms of experience, the best thing you can do - and I hate to say this, because it does require a level of privilege to be able to do - is volunteer somewhere. It doesn’t have to be at a zoo. Anything that will give you some animal experience for a resume and references will be valuable: shelters, vet offices, riding barns, farms, even 4H. You need to be able to demonstrate that you’ve worked around a variety of species (even if they’re all domestic) and have people who can speak to the fact that you’re diligent, attentive to detail, and have common sense about things like safety protocols. If you can’t volunteer, try to find a job in any of these areas with similar skills. Or where you can learn them! Say you can’t get an animal care job, but you’re good at phones and people - you could get a desk job at an animal shelter, and help out with cleaning and animal enrichment when possible. Boom! Experience!

It’s also important to learn how to shape your current job experience to an application, which is something I can talk more about and maybe pull in advice from folk actually in hiring for. There’s a ton that can be applicable to animal jobs. Office work? You can probably speak to experience with proprietary software systems and record-keeping (which is a bigger deal than you’d think). Construction / landscaping / similar physical labor jobs? You know how to work hard in a range of weather conditions, keep a project on spec, have experience with complex project planning, and probably know a thing or two about basic safety stuff (don’t store heavy things above your head, lift with your legs, etc). You’re basically looking to communicate “I haven’t worked in this field, but here’s all the skills I have that will translate to this job.”

Realistically, if you’re coming in without a degree or a ton of animal experience, you’re much more likely to be able to get a job at smaller, non-AZA facilities to start (they might not even be zoos - there’s sanctuaries and petting zoos and all sorts of other professional animal care gigs). And this is fine and good! There’s lots of good ones out there. You can always use experience gained there to move up in the field, if it’s your dream to work at an AZA facility specifically. And a lot of people do that - you’ll hear some places talk about how they know they’re training zoos, because their staff get a foot in the door and then consistently leave for other facilities after a couple years. But there’s also a lot of reasons to stay with some of the smaller facilities. They’re often in areas with cheaper cost of living, and so a zookeeping salary will go farther. I’ve also seen that a lot of the smaller facilities - ones where like, staff know and interact with the zoo director frequently - tend to take better care of their staff. They may not be able to increase salary, but I’ve seen some of those facilities go the extra mile for their people in other ways when it’s possible. It’s a very different experience than being a small cog in the giant machines that are many AZA zoos. It’s the sort of thing you have to vet carefully, but when you find a small facility that really invests in it’s people, it can be very worthwhile.

You also have to think about the fact that you don’t have to start in zookeeping to get an animal care job! I’ve seen a lot of people start in education or in summer camp staff, and then use the relationship with the facility and their track record in those jobs to transition into animal care. Especially education, if you’ve got the skill-set, because you’re often working with ambassador animals or in collaboration with the teams that care for them. I’ve seen some people start in facilities or ground crew, too, but I think that’s less common. Getting your foot in the door somehow and building relationships is one of the biggest parts of getting a job in the field if you’re not following the traditional pipeline.

If you’re near enough to a smaller facility that you can visit regularly, do. Learn as much as you can about the zoo and what they do and what they’re involved in, to show that you’re interested and invested, and then go talk to someone there. Tell them exactly what you told me: this is a dream, and you’re really interested in their facility specifically, and you’re wondering what you should do to build a resume to apply for a job there. At worst, you’ll get some advice. At best, they might take a chance on you. I’ve heard of it happening. (The hardest part of this is, honestly, figuring out who to talk to - it’s not the sort of thing where you can just ask a keeper while they’re cleaning. But you can find opportunities, and then ask if there’s someone in management who might have time to answer a couple questions.)

So in short: yes. It’ll take some work and time, and probably some free labor, but it’s doable. More so now than any other time recently. Good luck!

[frasier-crane-style]

I think you can see a genuine loss of craft and storytelling integrity in the Spider-Man reboots over the years.

Tobey Maguire has NO ONE to talk to about being Spider-Man until MJ in 3. His inner conflict is conveyed entirely through sparsely used narration, cleverly written scenes, dream sequences. Think of how many ideas in the trilogy are delivered through striking images.

Andrew Garfield has Gwen to talk to. When he can't talk to her, he writes his innermost thoughts on a... vision board or something?

It's goddamn stupid, but then, Garfield is the canonically dumb Spider-Man who needs Gwen to explain science shit to him. Fucker.

Fucking everyone knows Tom Holland is Spider-Man and loves talking to him about every little thing he's going through. He's got an AI, he's got Happy, he's got Tony, he's got Ned, he's got Aunt May, he's got... her, and he's even got Mysterio. Nothing is conveyed through filmatism or subtext, it's all just plainly rendered talking head dialogue tossed under hand to the audience without any nuance because anything more complicated would take time and money they're either unable or unwilling to commit.

I would say they're not even trying to communicate with the audience, they're trying to obscure a lack of ideas at the core of their story. Far From Home, Mysterio wants to be an Avenger. What does he intend to do when he's an Avenger? How does he intend to cope when an actual, non-hoax threat shows up? Are there even any Avengers for him to join? Why is being an Avenger a glamorous and desirable position in this movie, but in TFAWS, it's an unpaid internship that doesn't net Sam any respect or goodwill?

This vapidity is all papered over with a bunch of bantery dialogue in an attempt to distract from how paper-thin the plot really is. And in case you think I'm being overly harsh, remember the conflict in No Way Home is that five villains don't want to be cured of their afflictions or have their lives saved. They're fighting to stop Spider-Man from helping them. Their motivation is I guess just to stay on an alien world where they have no friends or resources or even government ID, and where superheroes who can beat them up are plentiful, to, uh... hang out with each other? Seriously, what does Doc Ock's endgame look like if he succeeds in killing Spider-Man, which he's trying to do for most of the movie?

You don't know because, ha ha, Zendaya said his name is stupid. That's a better thing to spend time on than the antagonist's goal or motivation.

Seriously, what does Norman Osborn's characterization amount to besides "he's kk-razy"? Raimiverse Norman wanted to make Peter his heir out of disappointment with his own son. What is MCU Norman trying to accomplish? He's the main character besides Peter and you can't tell me; he's just doing random shit because the plot demands it.

[youjustwaitsunshine]

nothing makes me feel clowned on the way unpaid internships do. you're telling me that this internship is mandatory for my university education. and because it is mandatory, as to "ensure everyone has the chance to get a place and missing funds are not in the way of an internship at the place you want to intern at" it will probably not be paid. because mandatory internships don't have to be paid.

meanwhile my boss at my one year internship - mandatory before even applying to uni - told me, to my face, that he values my work and trusts me to work at the same quality as a full time employee. i worked 40 hours a week, mostly doing the same work as my colleagues with a master's degree, and got "commute money" from my boss because that is tax deductible. that money was still under 2€/hour. minimum wage here is over 12€/hour.

mandatory unpaid internships are nothing more than loopholes for cheap labour, they keep education exclusive - I could not have managed to move to the city my internship was in, rent a place, get groceries etc without the help of my parents. If your parents work minimum wage/little over minimum wage, if you have siblings who also need support/money, if you need special accessibility, I could not have afforded an internship like that.

unpaid mandatory internships, especially as a requirement for even applying to a university are a gatekeeping tool to keep the unwanted out. everyone in my study course is a child of at least comfortable middle-class (keeping it simple and not starting an argument about what is modern middle class) academics. "we don't discriminate in choice of our applicants" because the discrimination starts much earlier so of course all that's left by the time they'd count it as discrimination are palatable middle-class white people.

[hotcat37]

deaf! Jere x Tommy concept drabble i wrote for @gigshoe <3 (for details, they're in their early 20s here and the setting is in Finland)

Tommy was admittedly already in a pretty cranky mood when he woke up that morning. He's got another day of long unpaid hours for his internship waiting for him. He knows it's a great opportunity and it's the experience that counts but still. Knowing that he's got another two months of hard unpaid work ahead of him isn't exactly motivating.

So when the Estonian feels a gentle tug at his sleeve while waiting for his train, his first instinct is to feel annoyed. He'd been minding his own business staring off into space and hoping no one would bother him. No such luck it seems.

Tommy turns his head towards whoever has disturbed him, not attempting to hide the scowl he knows he has on his face, ready to hit the unsuspecting person with a "I don't speak Finnish." But his eyes meet big blue ones and the brunette momentarily forgets all about his plan. He stares into the winter pale face of a man whose jet black eyebrows furrow together in concern at whatever look is on Tommy's face.

Oh crap. The stranger looks a bit intimidated, fiddling with the yellow phone in his hands, clearly too nervous to say anything now that he's been scowled at. Tommy's eyes involuntarily soften at the sight of the other man. Poor guy. He probably just spend a while working up the courage to approach him and here Tommy is fixing him with his resting bitch face.

"Hello." He greets the guy in English, trying to encourage him with a smile. "What's wrong?"

Big eyes stupidly blink back at Tommy for a second before they redirect their focus to the phone screen. The Estonian raises an eyebrow when the stranger starts to delete and re-type a text but otherwise uses the moment of distraction to get a good look at the man. The guy appears to be around Tommy's age, youthful face flushed slightly with a blush.

Pretty.....

The next thing he notices is the somewhat silly haircut the young adult is sporting. Tommy can admit that he somehow makes it work, though. And even if he didn't, the brunette would appreciate the eccentric hair anyways. Then he spots specks of neon green in between the black and when Tommy squints he realizes that they must be hearing aids. Aha. The man's behavior makes more sense now.

Is this train to Joensuu? Sorry if is a weird question, I never go there 😅

The deaf Finn still looks rather timid and Tommy surprises himself with the overwhelming feeling of wanting to comfort this cute guy. Must be the oversized black coat making him look extra small. As if Tommy could easily scoop him into his arms.

"Yeah, man. It's the third stop. I'm actually going there too." Tommy confirms, hoping it's enough to reassure the other man that there's no need to feel intimidated.

The small Finn seems....weirdly surprised. As if he didn't expect Tommy to actually answer him. Damn. Is his bitch face that bad? How many hot folks has he scared off with just his expression alone without even knowing it?

But then the stranger beams at him with such a sweet smile that Tommy involuntarily mirrors it, feeling his chest buzz with something warm and happy.

Thank you so much!! :D You are going to work in Joensuu?? :0

And where usually Tommy hates random small talk, with this guy he's very much eager to keep the conversation going.

"Eh, kind of?" The Estonian shrugs. "I mean, it is work but I'm not getting paid."

At the concerned frown on the stranger's face, Tommy hurries to clarify.

"It's an internship so-" The man doesn't seem to know that word, cocking his head to the side like a confused dog. "Ah, uhm, so I do work for a company but I'm not getting paid at the moment 'cause I'm not a real employee. It's just for experience, y'know?"

The small Finn makes a little noise as if to say oh. It's the first sound he's made so far and Tommy can't help but soak it up like a sponge. This guy is fucking cute, he can't deny it.

Experience is good yes yes but is shit that you not get money 😢

Tommy quirks a grin at that, amused by the stranger's bluntness. "Yeah, it is shit. But are you getting paid or you a poor intern like me?"

Delicate fingers fly across the keyboard, Tommy very much endeared by the other man's enthusiasm to conversate. He can't remember the last time he's had such a fun interaction with a random person.

I get paid! ^_^ Today is my first day as photo man 📸🔥

For a guy who doesn't speak, he sure is expressive. Tommy is quite enjoying the use of emojis.

"You're a photographer?" At the other man's nod, Tommy beams. "That's so cool!"

For a split second the deaf Finn looks genuinely surprised again, staring back at Tommy with wide eyes, before his lips also split into a wide grin. It's kind of funny how quickly things have progressed between them in less than 10 minutes. Just as Tommy is about to pipe up and say more, a distant honk alerts him that their ride is headed towards them.

"Train is here." The Estonian informs as he points to somewhere behind the guy.

The man turns his head, just for a second, and Tommy is painfully aware of how he immediately misses having those big blue eyes focused on him. There's just something about this stranger that draws him in.

The Finn in question seems oblivious, turning to face Tommy with that infectious smile of his.

Let's go!! 🏃💨

He dutifully follows after the shorter man as they head towards the train. People are steadily streaming into the wagons and Tommy tries not to smile when he feels the stranger press against him to avoid being shoved in all directions. The Estonian spots an open seat in the back and doesn't hesitate to sit down. His companion does seem a little unsure, though, likely wondering if it's okay to sit next to Tommy. If their interaction was just a one time thing.

The brunette pats the seat beside him with an inviting smile and it's enough to get the Finn to finally move.

Their shoulders brush against each other and it's rather surprising that Tommy doesn't immediately feel the urge to pull away like he always does whenever he has even the slightest physical contact with a stranger. With this guy it's very much welcome.

"Hey, what's your name?" Tommy gently nudges the smaller man by extending his hand once the chattering on the train has settled down. "I'm Tommy."

The stranger seems quite relieved by Tommy's introduction, eyebrows knitting together into a hopeful expression. He types something at lightning speed, holding up his phone so Tommy can read the message with one hand while the other takes the hand extended towards him. Very soft, the Estonian notes.

I'm Jere! :D