#and the thing is school and finances and work is hard enough and adding social relationships to it is soooooo exhausting

[menlove]

the thing abt being parentified is that you have been being an adult for so long that by the time you're an actual adult you're just so fucking tired of it but you can't stop

[hiding-under-the-willow]

thoughts on Eric and his place in the markiplier tv office dynamic? also Bingand Google? I love ur rants abt them all!!!

This is the point at which I have to be completely honest with you. I know Eric is deeply beloved by a lot of people, but I really do not have many thoughts on him. His whole thing came out like. Slighty after my exit from the fandom in middle school. So I remember watching his stuff when it came out, but he never got like. Absorbed into the canon in my head. So. Uh. Apologies on that one. Maybe I'll go back and rewatch his stuff at some point and come back with some thoughts.

Google and Bing on the other hand I can absolutely talk about.

So I think I vaguely mentioned their roles at the network in one of my previous posts but I'll elaborate lol. Google is Dark's assistant essentially, he's mostly in charge of finances and tech stuff around the office, but he also has some other responsibilities. I think out of everyone in the office there are two other people who know the exact reason for Dark's whole thing with Mark, who know the extent of his anger and his motivations. These two people would be The Host, bc well, kind of unavoidable, better to have an ally there than to just let it go unspoken, and Google, who knows because he is constantly helping Dark with his different revenge plots. He's constantly on the look out for opportunities for attack on Dark's end, stalking casting lists in different productions for jobs Mark might've taken, scanning forums and socials for mentions of him, hacking into security feeds and police records. He is The information guy for Dark.

Bing on the other hand kind of has no fucking clue about all that shit, cause he's working in PR, which means he's out working more so with the actual people in the studio, and more directly with Wilford. He's the guy behind the scenes making sure all of the deranged idiots he works with aren't doing shit so insane on air that they get the network shut down. Every script runs by him, every ad Ed makes, all of Bim's ideas for segments on his show, every story the Jim's pick up. All of it. That doesn't exactly stop the things the channel is producing from being completely unhinged, but i think Bing is aware of the public perception of the station enough to shape it in a way that won't get them in too much trouble.

See i think Bing was built with more of a understanding of human emotions than Google was. I think Google is more focused on hard data, while Bing was made more so with the application of that data in mind. Like. If you need government records that are probably not so legal to obtain. Google's your guy. If you want to use the data from those records to persuade the public to feel a certain way. Bing is your guy. You want to do some biometric scans of some guy to figure out stuff about his health? Google has that shit handled. You need to break some heavy news found from those scans to said guy. Bing knows how to handle it gracefully. That's the vibe on these two.

The thing is though. It's not that either of them were built to feel human emotions, even if you'd think it looking at Bing. He just happens to have been built with a better ability to understand, and therefore effectively act out said emotions.

This makes Bing really good at his job, because he's basically playing both sides in the office. He has a complex enough understanding of the view of the network by the public, as some kind of satire art project, and he leans into shaping that public image as much as possible, because that creates a stable market of pretentious art nerds and satire comedy enjoyers. He knows if the public were to realize the sincerity and reality of half the shit on the station they would lose their audience and get in a shit ton of trouble. But then he doesn't tell anyone in the office, who thinks they've got a genuine viewership base who understand their art or whatever, what perception the public has of them. He just makes the edits he needs to to their scripts, nudges them away from more dangerous bits, keeps everything under control, and let's both sides believe they've got what they want.

And this is the really interesting part, because I think the longer they spend in the office, the more they deviate from their original objectives to work for Dark and Wilford, the more they evolve. And I think Google does it faster. You'd think Bing, with his deeper understanding of human emotions and better capabilities at replicating them, would be more likely to see a more rapid decay of his more machine like tendencies as he begins to show more humanity. But bc so much of Bing's job at the studio is playing on his intented use of handling data and using it to manipulate people, he takes much longer to start breaking down those barriers. Google on the other hand, as much of his job is data oriented, something about seeing Dark in his most intense moments, of anger, of sorrow, of regret, or satisfaction, wherever his revenge journey leads him, that does something to him. Because he wants to understand the emotions that would lead someone to go to the lengths Dark does so badly. And that leads to a certain jealousy of Bing's understanding of human emotions. Only for him to realize that the jealousy itself is a human emotion. That he should not be able to feel. And things spiral from there. Anyways I think he probably developed a deep emotional attachment to Dark and his revenge journey meanwhile he's trying really hard to keep up the appearance that he is still the data driven machine he's always been.

Bing meanwhile I think is slowly starting to realize some shit is up with Google, and he's realizing there's something wrong with Wilford and Dark, something he doesn't know that he decides he needs to know if he's going to keep the public image of the studio up. I think it'd be really fun to see Google, the mechanical data driven one, attempting to appeal to the humanity and emotion of Bing, who is supposed to be the more human between them, because Bing is getting too carried away with the manipulation involved in his job.

[jessicafurseth]

Reading List, In a Flash edition.

The Laughing Heart [Charles Bukowski, 1993] Your life is your life Don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission. Be on the watch. There are ways out. There is a light somewhere. It may not be much light but it beats the darkness. Be on the watch. The gods will offer you chances. Know them. Take them. You can’t beat death but you can beat death in life, sometimes. And the more often you learn to do it, the more light there will be. Your life is your life. Know it while you have it. You are marvelous. The gods wait to delight In you.

[Image: Lucas Allen]

*

"Some of the ways friendship changes in this life stage is just “being in your 30s.” Friends are already disappearing from dinner parties and birthdays and day trips and concerts and “God, I’ve had a shit week. Can we just sit on your couch and eat takeout?’’ evenings. There are so many big events besides having children that make you less available to friends: serious relationships, career changes, getting sober, moving cities, caring for aging parents, finances. We talk through those moments because we’re aware enough of how important friendships are and how hard they are to keep. You literally live longer the more adult friends you have, and if you believe the surgeon general, we’re all one invitation away from being part of the “loneliness epidemic.” Parenthood (specifically motherhood) is a known contributor to feeling isolated, but though we tell friends, “You work too hard,” or even, “Your new girlfriend is a drag,” we never point our fingers at the baby and say, “That thing is tearing us all apart." Can Parents and Childless People Be Friends? [Allison P Davies, The Cut]

"We have brothers, sons, lovers – but they can’t live here!" The 26 older women living in a cohousing community in Chipping Barnet [Anita Chaudhuri, The Guardian]

The Case for Love-Life Balance [Faith Hill, The Atlantic]

‘Oddly satisfying’: what’s behind our drive to collect useless items? [Amelia Tait, The Guardian]

Celebrities are now “honest” about diet, exercise and beauty. I wish they weren’t [Amelia Tait, The New Statesman]

"The internet as we know it is a glorious, awful, intricate, sprawling series of networks that needs our information in order to function. We cannot go back to a time before this was true—before turn-by-turn directions and eerily well-targeted ads, before we carried little data-collection machines in our pockets all day—and nor would all of us want to. But we can demand much more from the reckless stewards of our information." What Digital Privacy Is Worth [Charlie Warzel, The Atlantic]

"There are so many fun things to do on the internet. You can watch that History of Japan video for the zillionth time. You can have a glass of wine and reply enthusiastically to the Instagram Stories of everyone you know. Anything, truly anything, is a better use of your time than getting upset that a stranger somewhere disagrees with you." Social media is making you angry. You simply have to ignore it. [Rebecca Jennings, Vox]

You don't have to post about your moral outrage [Elizabeth Spiers, The New Yorker]

Citizenship Restored - a fascinating story about gaining German citizenship as a descendant of Jewish refugees [Daniel Trilling, the London Review of Books]

"This pandemic skip — the strange sensation that our bodies might be a step out of sync with our minds — happened to people of all ages. We’ve heard of those freshmen in high school, who, never having attended middle school, went back to their classrooms punching each other like 12-year-olds. A friend skipped from 57 to 60 and, when she started dressing up to leave the house again, realized she felt distinctly out of sorts in her clothes — her dresses felt suddenly too short or too colorful. (At 57, she said, patterns felt ironic. At 60, they didn’t.) My skip, I realized, had carried me swiftly through what would have been my last couple years of socially permissible carelessness. And what I’d dropped into didn’t especially appeal, particularly after having been trapped in the house cats-in-a-bag style for three years: real adulthood with all its attendant concerns." The Pandemic Skip [Katy Schneider. New York Magazine]

“I was on my own so much, just with my thoughts. The way I describe it is like weeding your garden. You don’t realise it, but your head is full of these weeds and when you’re walking, you’re on your knees pulling weeds. After about a year and a half, when I was down in south Peru, I felt like I’d thought all the thoughts, and the garden was clean. There was no more angst, no regrets, nothing I could pick through. I was in the Atacama desert, lying under a million stars, and it felt I was at the bottom of myself. All the doubts went. It was a hollowed-out feeling. A simple sense of existing – you’re just a small little creature in the universe. It was just peace.” Tom Turcich on his seven-year walk around the world [Simon Hattenstone, The Guardian]

A Guide to Lana Del Rey’s Literary References [Sophie Lou Wilson. AnOther Magazine]

"A completely correct theory, in which one of our greatest movie stars reveals humanity’s changing relationship to modernity." Sandra Bullock and the Rise of Tech [Jim Windolf, The New  York Times]

"When people say they’re able to strictly abide a certain diet under any circumstances, I feel both a bit jealous and also incredulous: what are you missing? Not just food-wise, but conversation-wise. I find it important that I’m always coming into friction in the world about being a bivalve-eating vegetarian: how else would I know how unfriendly the world is to a plant-based diet? How else would I be told stories of the vegans who eat cheese only in Spain or the vegetarians who make accommodations for certain seafood? I want to know these stories, and I want to know everyone’s food story." On the ‘Grandma Rule’ [Alicia Kennedy]

Historic England is creating  an online map of ghost signs [Steven Morris, The Guardian]

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MustangSally

MustangSally has 33 stories at Gossamer. Even if you haven’t read it, you’ve probably heard of at least one of them, Iolokus, since it’s an X-Files fanfic classic. All her fics hit big and are well worth your time. I’ve recced some of my favorites here before, including And Dance by the Light of the Moon, All the Children are Insane, and Iolokus. Big thanks to MustangSally for doing this interview.

What's the story behind your pen name?

I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. Yes, because life has moved on since the early nineties and the characters and the fans are in vastly different places now. Our current tech would make the premise of the X-Files impossible. No, because of the longevity of some of the Star Trek TOS work (there’s an archive of hard copy fanzines at the University of Iowa). Top-drawer authors started out in TOS fandom.

I’m just greatly saddened that my physical body is showing wear and tear while the fic doesn’t. Fic gets to stay smooth-skinned and muscular, captured at the peak of perfection.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

At the risk of sounding atrociously trite, I think of the friends I made.  I met some very remarkable women that I’ve been able to stay friends with online for over twenty-five years.  We may have moved to Facebook and post entirely too much about our pets and which of our body parts has sagged this week, but we’re friends.  It’s a furiously funny, feminist, and well-educated group of women with jobs in the highest levels of academia, finance, communications, and media.  I’m amused by the fact that if I have a question about how a virus replicates, I can ask a PhD I’ve been drunk with in Las Vegas.

Back in the day, I had a job that sent me traveling around major cities in the US and UK. I could post on a message board and within ten minutes there were people I could go out for dinner and drinks with. We already knew we had something we could talk about for at least a couple of hours. Additionally, most of these people were women so there was an added level of security. Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Well, it was mostly atxc and the Yahoo! groups mailing lists that spiraled out into Geocities sites and, eventually, LiveJournal. The amusing thing is that getting in on the ground floor of social media and the Internet has helped me get jobs!  When I look at a new piece of software, I think, ‘this is hella easier than uploading to Geocities.’  We had to walk uphill both ways, in the snow, on dial-up, fighting off dinosaurs with our AOL CDs while writing HTML code. What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

DO NOT FEED THE TROLLS.

The past four years in politics have basically been the ugliest online kerfuffle the world has ever seen. I survived the Shipper Wars of ’96 and I thought those were brutal, but that was NOTHING. The only way to win an argument online is to not have the argument at all. Arguing with a troll is like mudwrestling a pig: You both get filthy and only the pig is happy.

Also, READ THE FUCKING TERMS OF SERVICE.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I had the most terrible straight-girl crush on Scully. I wanted to be her best friend, I wanted to BE her.  I wanted to order Chinese food and paint each other’s nails and talk about bones.  Scully and Princess Leia and I could all just hang out poolside with hot and cold running waiters and poolboys, drink margaritas, and bitch about how unfair it all was – if the stupid men would just get OUT OF THE WAY AND LET US DO OUR JOBS, the world would be so much better. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

This question is really about Iolokus, isn’t it?  You can’t fool me. [Lilydale note: I can neither confirm nor deny the motivation for this question, but I cannot complain about the answer.]

Simply put, I was enraged. The moment it was revealed that Scully’s ova had been used in experimentation, I lost my feminist mind. It was the most obscene defilement imaginable.  Scully wasn’t nearly as angry as I was.  What I thought needed to happen was for Scully to become a fiery force of vengeance against the MEN who had done this to her.  Clearly, I was not going to get that level of satisfaction from the show, as I was imagining Kali-like carnage on a global scale. I emailed RivkaT (whom I did not know well at that point) with a proposition that we work together. Strangely enough, we didn’t meet face to face until we were well into the project, but we did talk on the phone quite a bit. The rules were simple – everyone had to be punished in truly horrific ways, and at some point, we had to see if we could write a car chase (only because that seemed impossible).  Then it basically turned into a very twisted game of chicken to see who could be the most outrageous in terms of killing people off or writing really horrific things that fit within the structure of the narrative.  I did, in the end, write the car chase, but RivkaT one-upped me by throwing in a helicopter (a FOX News helicopter, at that).  

Really, RivkaT?  A helicopter? What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? I am terribly proud of what I wrote, pleased that it brought pain and pleasure in equal amount to people, and, again, thrilled by the people I became friends with. I admit that I stopped watching the show when Scully announced her pregnancy.  I could only see a long jump over a shark tank for the rest of the series. I haven’t watched the new episodes, either.  It is complete in my mind and doesn’t need to be continued.  I wouldn’t say no to having a reunion with some of my fic friends, although we’re still chatting online like everyone does.   Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Rivka and I wrote in the Buffy fandom for a few years, but then we moved on to real adult jobs that left absolutely no time for me to write. I’m in education, and I regularly sweat blood for fear that someone is going to find my old fic. The Buffy people were fun; there was a certain *shininess* to them that I really enjoyed. The X-men authors were just batshit and delightful, and some amazing stuff came out of Marvel fandom, particularly in the Thor/Loki and Steve/Bucky subgenres. I’ve learned to appreciate a good coffee shop AU and one famous Erik/Charles fic where all the main characters are crabs. Seriously, crabs—it’s hysterical. [Lilydale note: Other Crabs Cannot Be Trusted by groovyphilia currently has almost 2,500 kudos at AO3.]

Every few years, I’ll have a student try to explain to me what fandom is and I just smirk. Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? No. Not really. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I fell into an X-Men hole a few years back and had a great old time wallowing in the Cherik muck, and there was a flirtation with BBC Sherlock as well. Strangely enough, I became interested in A/B/O fics only because of what they were saying about the role of women in our society. The limitations on the male omegas seem absurd and then you realize those are the same limitations put on women all. the. time.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

RivkaT very nicely formatted everything and put it up on AO3. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I will always be stupidly proud of how shocked and horrified people were by Iolokus. The truth of the matter is that Iolokus has Greek drama at its core. Scully is Medea, and the entire story is lousy with “blood on the threshing floor” and Dionysian rites. The everyday is subverted into horror, and wives and daughters will tear men limb from limb like the Maenads. Since I was ultimately disappointed with what Chris Carter did with the entire show, that approach seemed appropriate.

At a certain level, all fic is corrective fic.  Like critic Anne Jamison said, “Irritated fans produce fanfic like irritated oysters produce pearls.”  And because fic has fallen so much into women’s sphere, a pure form of correction is not just the death of the author but the MURDER, a new creation springing up from the spilled blood like Cadmus sowing dragon’s teeth.

Okay, that’s a bit much. Maybe I should just take myself back to the isle of Goth Amazons or something. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I had to write a self-evaluation and a reflection on pedagogy today. If that’s not fiction, I don’t know what the fuck is.

All my creativity is caught up in trying to pretend to be a normal middle-aged white woman so no one knows I am really a lizard.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Keep writing, keep reading, keep fighting the commercialization of narratives. As things grow more and more commodified, all our dreams and desires reduced to tchotchkes made in China, it’s a revolutionary act to separate your work from the marketplace. Be bold, take chances, turn the trope on its ear and kick it in the ass. Take everything the creators have done to make a work palatable to the unwashed masses and set it on fire.

Be subversive.

Be mean.

Have a great fucking time.

(Posted by Lilydale on March 2, 2021)

[swanlake1998]

Article: Chisako Oga Is Soaring to New Heights at Boston Ballet

Date: May 6, 2021

By: Karen Campbell

Chisako Oga is a dancer on the move—in more ways than one. From childhood training in Texas, California and Japan to a San Francisco Ballet apprenticeship to her first professional post with Cincinnati Ballet, where she quickly rose to principal dancer, she has rarely stood still for long.

But now the 24-year-old ballerina is right where she wants to be, as one of the most promising soloists at Boston Ballet. In 2019, Oga left her principal contract to join the company as a second soloist, rising to soloist the following year. "I knew I would have to take a step down to join a company of a different caliber, and Boston Ballet is one of the best companies in the country," she says. "The repertoire—Kylián, Forysthe, all the full-length ballets—is so appealing to me."

And the company has offered her major opportunities from the start. She danced the title role in Giselle in her very first performances with Boston Ballet, transforming a playful innocent into a woman haunted by betrayal with dramatic conviction and technical aplomb. But she also is making her mark in contemporary work. The last ballet she performed onstage before the pandemic hit was William Forsythe's demanding In the middle, somewhat elevated, which she says was a dream to perform. "The style really clicked, felt really comfortable. Bill drew something new out of me every rehearsal. As hard as it was, it was so much fun."

"Chisako is a very natural mover, pliable and strong," says artistic director Mikko Nissinen. "Dancing seems to come very easy for her. Not many have that quality. She's like a diamond—I'm curious to see how much we can polish that talent."

A Life-Changing Opportunity

Oga began dancing at the age of 3. Born in Dallas, she and her family moved around to follow her father's job in IT. Before settling in Carlsbad, California, they landed in Japan for several years, where Oga began to take ballet very seriously. "I like the simplicity of ballet, the structure and the clear vocabulary," she says. "Dances that portray a story or have a message really drew me in. One of my favorite parts of a story ballet is diving into the role and becoming the character, putting it in my perspective."

In California, Oga studied with Victor and Tatiana Kasatsky and Maxim Tchernychev. Her teachers encouraged her to enter competitions, which she says broadened her outlook and fed her love of performing in front of an audience. Though highly motivated, she says she came to realize that winning medals wasn't everything. "Honestly, I feel like the times I got close and didn't place gave me perspective, made me realize being a dancer doesn't define you and helped me become the person and the dancer I am today."

At 15, Oga was a semifinalist at the Prix de Lausanne, resulting in a "life-changing" scholarship to the San Francisco Ballet School. There she trained with two of her most influential teachers, Tina LeBlanc and Patrick Armand. "She came in straightaway with strong basics," Armand recalls, "and working with her for two years, I realized how clever she is. She's super-smart, thoughtful, driven, always working."

She became a company apprentice in 2016. Then came the disappointing news—she was let go a few months later. Pushing 5' 2", she was simply too short for the company's needs, she was told. "It was really, really hard," says Oga. "I felt like I was on a good track, so to be let go was very shocking, especially since my height was not something I could improve or change."

Moving On and Up

Ironically, Oga's height proved an advantage in auditioning for Cincinnati Ballet, which was looking for a talented partner for some of their shorter men. She joined the company in 2016, was quickly promoted to soloist, and became a principal dancer for the 2017–18 season, garnering major roles like Swanilda and Juliet during her three years with the company. "There were times I felt insignificant and insecure, like I don't deserve this," Oga says about these early opportunities. "But I was mostly thrilled to be put in those shoes."

She was also thriving in contemporary work, like choreographer-in-residence Jennifer Archibald's MYOHO. Archibald cites her warmth, playfulness and sensitivity, adding, "There's also a powerful presence about her, and I was amazed at how fast she was at picking up choreography, able to find the transitions quickly. She's definitely a special talent. Boston Ballet will give her more exposure on a national level."

That was Oga's plan. She knew going in that Cincinnati was more stepping-stone than final destination. She had her sights on a bigger company with a broader repertoire, and Boston Ballet seemed ideal.

As she continues to spread her wings at the company, Oga has developed a seemingly effortless artistic partnership with one of Boston Ballet's most dynamic male principals, Derek Dunn, who Oga calls "a kind-hearted, open person, so supportive when I've been hard on myself. He's taught me to believe in myself and trust that I'm capable of doing whatever the choreography needs." The two have developed an easy bond in the studio she likens to "a good conversation, back and forth."

Dunn agrees. "I knew the first time we danced together we had a special connection," he says. "She really takes on the artistic side of a role, which makes the connection really strong when we're dancing onstage. It's like being in a different world."

He adds, "She came into the company and a lot was thrown at her, which could have been daunting. She handled it with such grace and confidence."

Perspective in a Pandemic

The pair were heading into Boston Ballet's busy spring season when the pandemic hit. "It was really a bummer," Oga says. "I was really looking forward to Swan Lake, Bella Figura, some new world premieres. When we found out the whole season was canceled, it was hard news to take in."

But she quickly determined to make the most of her time out of the studio and physically rest her body. "All the performances take a toll. Of course, I did stretches and exercised, but we never give ourselves enough time to rest as dancers."

She also resumed college courses toward a second career. Oga is one of many Boston Ballet dancers taking advantage of a special partnership with Northeastern University to help them earn bachelor's degrees. Focusing on finance and accounting, Oga upped her classes in economics, algebra, business and marketing. She also joined Boston Ballet's Color Our Future Mentoring Program to raise awareness and support diversity, equity and inclusion. "I am trying to have my voice inspire the next generation," she says.

One pandemic silver lining has been spending more time with her husband, Grand Rapids Ballet dancer James Cunningham. The two met at Cincinnati Ballet, dancing together in Adam Hougland's Cut to the Chase just after Oga's arrival, and got married shortly before her move to Boston. Cunningham took a position in Grand Rapids, so they've been navigating a long-distance marriage ever since. They spend a lot of time texting and on FaceTime, connecting in person during layoffs. "It's really hard," Oga admits, but adds, "We are both very passionate about the art form, so it's easy to support each other's goals."

Oga's best advice for young dancers? "Don't take any moment for granted," she says without hesitation. "It doesn't matter what rank you are, just do everything to the fullest—people will see the hard work you put in. Don't settle for anything less. Knowing [yourself] is also very important, not holding yourself to another's standards. No two paths are going to be the same."

And for the foreseeable future, Oga's path is to live life to the fullest, inside and outside ballet. "The pandemic put things in perspective. Dancing is my passion. I want to do it as long as I can, but it's only one portion of my life. I truly believe a healthy balance between social and work life is good for your mental health and helps me be a better dancer."

[nathanielbuildsatesseract]

The last time a big round number rolled around, I wrote about how I wanted to live, and how I felt like I was waiting. Well, at lot has changed, but I still feel like I’m waiting.

That terrible class didn’t really ever end; I got an incomplete and now I need to finish it. The professor is a flake so we’ll see how that goes. I got a job, which meant I moved across the country, and means I can’t finish up on campus. I also need to finish my thesis, which I’ve made similarly little progress on, but which at least I find enjoyable to work on.

The job plays an interesting role here. It meant I was finally able to move out and support myself without my parents’ help, but it really wasn’t the sort of work I spent eight years in engineering school trying to get. The fact that the company requires an MS to do this work screams credentialism to me; you could probably set up a trade college for this sort of thing.

If everything goes according to plan, in a few weeks I’ll pass my on-call accreditation, and then be on the hook 24-7 to deal with possible satellite issues (in my subsystem, anyway). I’m not looking forward to it, and I’m really quite scared I won’t be any good at it. We’re talking about very expensive pieces of hardware, so screwing up because I’m still not awake has potentially serious consequences. There’s a system for getting help, of course, but that doesn’t make me feel much less nervous.

The bigger issue, though, is that I don’t want to be doing commsat maintenance. It’s not the work I trained for, it was just the work that I managed to get. It’s real, necessary work, so I don’t feel particularly ashamed of the work in itself, just that I didn’t manage to score something more glamorous like a lot of my erstwhile classmates. But I’ve always been a marginal person, barely hanging onto the bottom of the totem pole, so that’s nothing new. At least I didn’t have to take an aircraft structures job. I’m not sure I could have handled that humiliation, not after junior year of undergrad.

But I’m not sure the job is really the issue. A lot of this is just navigating the transition from college student to full-time worker, with an added course of bouncing back and forth between hybrid and telework. Finishing my MS is still hanging over my head, and my options for socialization are still limited because apparently getting a shot is too hard for people. Furthermore, I’m just not in a great place, geographically, and everyone drives terribly here. My opinion of car culture is definitely not improving.

On the other hand, buying (or renting) a detached house is looking better and better, because I’ve got noisy neighbors again. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to be quiet. I do understand the perverse incentives that lead to developers building apartments with thin walls. Unfortunately, I’m not sure there’s much I can do about that now. Maybe one day, but not really in time for me, I suspect.

And I don’t really think that’s the issue, either. Maybe it’s the sum of a whole lot of little things. The fact that this apartment has basically no lighting certainly isn’t helping. I’ll probably feel better as the days get longer and I buy some lamps. I’ve clustered what I’ve got but it’s not really enough, and it’s too cold most days to go for long walks, even during the day.

All that said, it’s hard to feel truly bad for myself when there’s so much more serious suffering in the world. Yet there’s only so much I can do about it. I’m probably going to start donating to some EA charities once my finances are a little better straightened out, but aside from that—what can I do about Putin and volcanos?

Normally I try to have a strong message with these posts, but at this point in my life I’m not feeling one, not one that makes sense to write about here. Go read the sequences, I guess. Every gram counts, both in rocketry and rationality. I think a better world is possible, but the older and more experienced I get, the more I see that there’s not going to be a quick fix; we’re going to have to take this one painful step at a time. Eyes on the stars, feet in the sucking mud, but getting there is possible.

Make things better, not worse. I guess that’s my plan for Tumblr moving forward: keep trying to post good things and not bad things. You’d think this would be easy, but no. Most posts are terrible.

It’s never too late to become good. But take five minutes to think about what good really means, not what you’ve happened to cache as good—what’s good for us as human beings, as we actually exist, here in reality. Most suffering in the modern world stems, directly or indirectly, from this source. That includes my present ennui, and a lot of things that are a whole lot worse than anything I have to complain about these days. To the extent that we solve that irrationality, we’re better prepared to address the remaining real problems.

Better worlds are possible, and I still intend to play my part in building them. In the meantime, the tesseract factory returns to the regularly-scheduled good—or at least, above average—posts.

[eintsein]

After a few years of trial and error, I think I've finally found the perfect organization method.

In the early years of high school, I had a bullet journal. I was an artsy kid who found a way to combine art with organization in a way that benefited other parts of my life.

However, as I approached the end of high school, my schedule got busier, and I was involved in a lot more things, so owning a bullet journal was less practical. Because of that, I switched to an app called Edo Agenda.

I continued with digital planning in college since I knew I wasn't going to have as much time. But all the apps I tried out—Taskade, Actions by Moleskine, Any.do, Todoist, Wunderlist—weren't suited to my planning and organizational needs. They didn't have the specific functions I required and didn't incorporate an organization system I liked to use. The predefined apps were too restraining, but the more customizable apps weren't customizable enough.

So then I switched to a bare bones, uber minimalist bullet journal method. That worked pretty well my second semester. It was simple, portable, and most importantly, flexible—all the things one could wish for in a planning system. However, it wasn't always the most convenient to use since I couldn't effectively integrate all the different aspects of my life, which, to no surprise, is mostly recorded digitally.

There was just one huge problem with my digital organization system that made me hesitant to switch back in the first place: everything was fragmented. Notes were in Google Docs. Financial records were in Google Sheets. To-Do Lists were in my bullet journal. Team projects were in Trello. My poetry was on Bear. Things I wanted to try are carelessly pinned to random pinterest boards or added to my YouTube "watch later" playlist. It was a mess.

Over the summer, I found out about Notion from a friend, and I thought, this has so much potential, it could even be exactly what I need. It's essentially like an empty notebook on your computer with functions that make it 10x more powerful. Notion allows you to integrate all aspects of your life and work into one app. Some of the advantages that have made me partial to Notion are:

Even greater customization level. Notion is a blank canvas with tons of predefined blocks and different file types. You can make databases, spreadsheets, Kanban boards, to do lists, etc. Also, you can remain connected to other digital services. You can link websites, collaborate with other users, use different structures (e.g. documents, databases, tasks), embed images and videos, etc. There are also tons of formatting options, e.g. text color, highlight, heading v. body text.

Better organization. Notion allows you to have pages within pages within pages within pages—an infinite hierarchy that you can organize with tables of contents. These pages are made of blocks, e.g. tables, checklists, boards, databases.  Both pages and blocks can be rearranged by simply dragging and dropping them to where you want them to be. In other words, I guess it's kind of like building a website to organize your life. Plus, their database feature is especially powerful as it allows you to connect all your data and get into as much detail as you wish (each entry in a database is its own page).

Templates. There are tons of templates created by both Notion and the community that you can use. These are especially helpful in the beginning since Notion does have a rather steep learning curve. There are template for almost every category: personal, planning, finance, job applications, design roadmap, etc. Check out their template gallery, this medium article called "10 Notion templates to inspire your use", or read on for my own examples!

Shortcuts. This makes typing and documenting so much faster. Notion uses Markdown, which is a text-to-HTML conversion tool, e.g. # = Heading 1, *, - = bullet point, etc.

Notion has some pretty awesome features, but how does one actually use it? Personally, I have four top-level pages: my planner, my personal journal, songwriting, and blogging.

Planner

I've been using my planner to, well, plan and track my day to day activities as well as my week and month. The way I've structured it is a calendar or monthly overview with links to pages of weekly overviews, and if needed, daily overviews within the weekly overview. This links things up so nicely, i.e. I don't have to be constantly flipping pages in my physical bullet journal or planner to find what I need.

I also have entertainment lists, which is mainly a table with all the shows I want to watch, the books I want to read, etc. I keep track of whether or not I've watched them, as well as my personal ratings. What I love most about this is that each entry is its own page, so I can type my notes for each book, show, or film and easily find them in the future. (Also the reason why I have plural “lists” instead of just one entertainment list is because you can filter entries by type of entertainment, e.g. movies, tv shows, books, articles.)

Personal

For personal notes, goals, journal entries, etc. This is kind of like an extension of my daily journal and just where I dump all my thoughts and keep track of the different aspects of my life: mental, emotional, spiritual, social, physical, and travel.

Another page I have is called "Stray Thoughts" and, well, it's pretty self explanatory. It's a lot easier to dump all my thoughts as they come and reorganize them later. Of course, this requires sacrificing the rawness of journaling, i.e. when the thoughts come and how you process them, which is why I still keep a regular journal that I write in daily.

Songwriting

I've been writing a lot of music over the summer and it's often hard to keep track of all of my songs and how far I've gotten in the songwriting process. So I created a table of songs - each entry of a song is a page with its lyrics. These are then tagged with the status of the lyrics (i.e. completed, in progress) and the status of the music itself (i.e. melody only, instrumental, mixing, mastering, revised). Eventually, I'll include demos in the database by embedding audio files in the document.

I have a separate section for inspiration and ideas, which is a kind of brain dump, e.g. words I think would make a good song, a certain theme for a song, a melody that's been stuck in my head, a vibe I'd like to try out, etc.

I've also been watching a lot of tutorials for music production and there's a section where I write my notes for that.

Eintsein

The last section of my Notion app is for this blog. Which has pages for

New posts. These are ideas for future posts, asks that I think would need longer answers, as well as posts that are currently in the draft stage (like this one was before I posted it)

Design assets. This is where I put all the visual branding material for Eintsein.com to be used in posts and any visual material on the blog.

FAQ. Having an FAQ document just makes it so much easier to make changes to your existing FAQ. Plus, if you ever change your FAQ theme, you just have to copy and paste what you already have.

Post directory. I keep track of all my previous masterposts, infographics, and generally longer and more comprehensive posts. It's the exact same as what you see on my Navigation page. And yes, the document contains direct links to the post.

New theme. A project I've been working on the past couple days is trying to create my own theme for my blog. This is where I put all my outlines, brainstorming notes, design inspiration, code snippets, etc.There are some pretty awesome features I’ve made use of in this page:

As you can probably tell, I'm absolutely obsessed with Notion since it has such awesome features and endless possibilities for customization. So far I've been using Notion for personal projects, which, since they are quite big in scale and have no set deadline, are important to organize well. My summer courses were only 6 weeks and weren't difficult to organize.

The formats above are just how I personally use notion. You could make some of your own, or if you don't think you want to build your pages from scratch, there are tons of templates to choose from. Here are some I think I'll be using in the near future and may be helpful for others as well, especially students like myself:

One drawback, however, is that Notion has a rather steep learning curve, but there are tons of tutorials online (especially YouTube) and I guarantee you it's all worth it.

Notion is not just a productivity app. It's a way to concretize your entire life.

Notion is free to use, but there are higher tiers that allow for more blocks, greater file size, etc. I use a personal account, which is $4 per month with unlimited block storage and no file upload limit (although I got it for $33/year). Personally I think the free plan would suit most people's needs, especially if you're not uploading large files.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Okay so the Bakujirou fic made me want to read more of ur writing(uwu💖💖💖💖)so can you please write a fluffy tdmm fic of them playing Animal Crossing:New Horizons together featuring trans girl Momo(which is my favorite bnha trans hc tbh)?Pls include all your headcanons i want this to be as self-indulgent for you as possible

We are getting up to some hopefully good nonsense up in here~! Let’s see if I can’t cook up something tasty for ya! Also this was one of those prompts that really got away from me and kinda... rambled away from the main point of the request and dissolved into a bit of a character study with added notes of fun shipping goodness so please forgive the length! And obviously if this is unsatisfactory please feel free to scream at me for my sins.

Trigger Warning: Transphobia, Mentions/ References to Body Dysphoria

She wasn’t Nashi. 

Momo had to remind her of that fact every now and again, when the doubts about her appearance started to leak in. Did she present well enough? Did her hobbies speak loudly enough of the truth of her femininity or did people think she was faking? If she decided to go with a bob cut like Ochako’s, or a cute pixie like Mina's, would it make her features stand out wrong? Would she be fine wearing shorts, or would it be safer to pick a skirt or dress? It wasn't as often as it used to be that the anxiety about her appearance reared up - especially since she had been eagerly accepted by her peers when she confessed that she'd been deemed male at birth - but there were still moments where it did.

Like that evening, in specific.

While Father and Mother still worked in Pro Heroics, their roles had shifted quite drastically over the years. Momo herself had only been eight years old when Father was gravely injured in a Villain fight, taking a serious blow to protect a fleeing civilian. There had been countless surgeries and treatments to follow, leaving Father unable to move as well as he used to. He retired as an active on-duty Pro and became more involved with the agency behind the scenes. He worked more with the finances, employee relations and things of that ilk while Mother took over control as the public face. For a while, things were fine like that. It was a nice balance between them and, even though it was clear Father missed interacting with the public, he settled into his position quite well.

But as Momo's second year at UA started its second half, Father's health started deteriorating quickly. His immune system had been compromised as a result of all his past procedures and the side effects of that started to hit fast and hard. Momo herself had missed three days of classes to rush to see him when his cold escalated enough to warrant a hospital stay. While there, Mother and Father had discussed an upcoming business mixer. It would allow for them to connect with various other agencies to locate team-up partners as well as connecting to a few new support development teams. Mother had seemed rather concerned by the idea of going alone given that Father had always been the social core of their team.

And so, despite her discomfort, Momo had volunteered to go along. Mother had seemed surprised but agreed to take up her offer.

The day had been very strange leading up to the event itself. After getting out of her classes that Saturday, Mother picked her up to get put together. The full works were done for her; hair, make-up, manicure and pedicure, all coordinated to match with the long, sapphire blue evening gown Mother had picked out for her. Mother was an odd mix of overly involved and incredibly distant, taking care to ask if the length of her heels were comfortable for her or if the red of her lipstick was too dark for her liking. Once getting a response, though, she’d be heading off to tend to something for her own attire for the night without a second glance.

A part of her said she should have expected as much. It was a hard thing to define, her relationship with her mother. Ever since she came out and asserted who she really was - claimed Momo as her true name - Mother had never misgendered or dead named her. Even in the beginning, when the change in name and pronouns were still new, she’d gone out of her way to speak more carefully, to address her daughter the correct way. Momo took that as a sign that she was accepted, yes, but… Mother had always been incredibly distant. She seemed to only take an interest in Momo when it involved her Quirk training and her accomplishments therein. She often wondered if the problem was more that Mother had never wanted children in the first place and only agreed to having one to placate Father, or to carry on the family name.

It was rather disheartening to think about. 

The moment they entered the extravagant ballroom for the mixer, another Pro that Momo couldn’t place was flagging Mother down excitedly. “Yaoyorozu-San, such a delight!” he greeted happily, offering her his hand. His gaze flickered over to Momo, smile remaining in place though his eyes gleamed in confusion. “Ah, and who is this? A niece or cousin of yours or your husband’s?”

“No,” Mother said, quirking an eyebrow as if the answer should be obvious, “this is my daughter, Momo.”

Momo made sure to flash a demure smile as she bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”

“A daughter? I heard your only child was a son,” Momo could feel herself tense as she righted her posture. Of course, she thought, it would already be starting so quickly into her evening.

“A mistake, I assure you. This is my daughter and I expect you to respect her as such,” There was an odd undercurrent to Mother’s tone that caused Momo to glance at her sideways. She looked thoroughly unamused, judging by the scowl and slight glare she had fixated on him, and her shoulders were squared as a show of confidence. She supposed that Mother got tired of hearing this same statement time and again.

He blinked slowly, nose wrinkling briefly, before nodding curtly. “Of course. My apologies,” he shifted his gaze away from her to Mother quickly, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyway, Yaoyorozu-San, I had been hoping to have a word with you! I have a case on my hands that seems well suited to your skills.”

Mother perked up a bit at that. “Hmm. For now I’ll just take a general overview. I assume you do not have any official documents regarding it on your person currently, yes?”

Momo let out a small breath at the attention being directed away from her. “I’ll be going to get a refreshment, Mother,” she announced, though she doubted that she was heard. She made a beeline for the aforementioned table. It was often at these kinds of get-togethers that there were two separate refreshment areas; one for the younger crowd and another for the adults. She grabbed the ladle in the punch bowl and started to pour some into a decorative plastic cup for herself. There were orange and lemon slivers floating on the surface of the liquid so she prepared herself for the tart bite of citrus on her tongue, a small smile on her lips.

For a second she thought of Shoto, most likely settled in the dorms with his Nintendo Switch, most likely catching bugs or fishing on his new Animal Crossing game. The system and game - according to him - were a bribe from Hawks to keep some secret from Endeavor. Shoto had held up that part of the bargain but, he confessed, had snitched to Natsuo. It had been the most entertaining family meal they’d had in a while after that, he assured, and she giggled to herself as she sipped her drink. He may not seem like it, but Shoto had a mischievous streak in him.

“No way! Is that you, Nashi?” She jumped and whipped around, noticing a group of three boys around her age approaching. She recognized one of them from her first grade school, before she’d started her transition, but it took a moment to place a name to the face.

She plastered on a smile as she turned to face them fully. “It’s Momo, actually. It’s good to see you again, though, Hiroki-Kun,”

Hiroki blinked and tilted his head, confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in epiphany. “Oh, okay, my bad! Momo it is!” he agreed with a grin before indicating the other two with him. “Well, let me introduce you! This guy to my left is Yori, and the one to my right is Manzo! Guys, this is Momo, the one I was telling you about!” His tone dipped slightly as he introduced the second boy with him, as if saying his name had left a bitter taste in his mouth, but quickly perked back up after.

Yori offered a shy smile, staying close to Hiroki, but still offering her his hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Momo-San. Hiroki-Kun says a lot of great things about you,” he said quietly.

"Does he?" she asked in slight surprise.

Hiroki grinned at her, folding his hands behind his head. "Of course! You were, like, the coolest kid on the playground! Cool Quirk, super nice, really smart… Who wouldn't admire that?"

She looked away bashfully and giggled. "You're too kind, Hiroki-Kun," she mused, turning her attention to Manzo. She held out her hand to shake his hand next. "You're Manzo-Kun, right?"

“And you’re Nashi, yeah?” he quipped, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

She flinched and shook her head, still trying to be civil. “No, I’m not. As I just told Hiroki-Kun, my name is Momo,”

“Your name now is Momo, but your real name is Nashi,” he retorted.

Her hand dropped to her side, clenching into a fist at her side as she tried to keep her cool. “Momo is my real name!”

“No,” Manzo laughed, taking a step towards her that caused her to take a step back, “Momo is the name you use to play dress up.”

Hiroki stepped forward, shoving an arm against Manzo’s chest and nudging him back that step. “Dude, don’t be a disrespectful ass!”

“She hasn’t said or done anything to offend you. And even if she did, that doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” Yori chimed in as well, a disappointed frown on his face.

Manzo glared before shoving Hiroki’s arm aside and advancing on Yori, who recoiled at his approach. “Oh, what? You think just because you have your stupid little buddy here you’re hot shit?” he barked, moving to shove him.

In a flash, Momo rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Leave him alone!” she snapped.

Manzo whipped around to face her and wretched his arm free, a nasty grin on his face. “Oh, what, you wanna fight about it? Fine! Let’s fight like men! Since that’s what you really are, Nashi-Kun!” he goaded.

“I’m not a boy and my name isn’t Nashi!” she shouted back, grip on his arm tightening slightly as angry tears started to pool in her eyes. “My name is Yaoyorozu Momo and I’m a girl!”

There was a beat of silence following her words, making her glance up as she realized that all conversation had died around them. Her stomach churned at the realization of the spectacle they’d become. She wasn’t supposed to behave like this! She was supposed to come and be the perfectly sociable young lady her parents had raised her to be. She wasn’t supposed to be getting dragged into situations like this.

“What is the meaning of all of this?” Mother’s curt tone cut in, snapping her from her thoughts. She had to steel herself to look up only to see that furious orange eyes were not fixated on Momo herself, rather, Manzo.

“Yes, son, explain,” another voice chimed in from behind Mother. The man she’d been chatting with when Momo first wandered away approached, looking directly at Manzo with a clearly forced smile on his face.

Manzo opened up his mouth to speak when Hiroki interrupted with “Manzo was being a dick to Momo! He wouldn’t respect her identity or name!”

“I was just stating the truth!” Manzo sneered angrily, finally wrenching his arm free from her grasp.

“Son, you-!”

“Momo, we are leaving. Now,” Mother said, tone clipped and flat.

Manzo’s father looked at her in panic. “Um, uh, Yaoyorozu-San, how about we select a time to discuss that case I mentioned in a more professional setting? One where the adults can talk without the children around?”

Mother glared at him, the look so harsh he shrunk back, before moving to wrap an arm over Momo’s shoulders to lead her out. She said nothing as she allowed Mother to lead her out and to the car, the air between them tense and awkward, barely catching Hiroki trying to call an apology after her and Manzo’s father berating him.

The silence in the back of the limo once they were settled inside was staggering, making Momo wish she could stick her head out the window to scream instead of keeping her gaze fixed on her toes. It was even worse than the air between them on the walk over with the added lack of escape route. She felt like such a failure as she struggled to take in breaths to keep herself composed. She was a top student in the top class at the top Pro Heroics school, for crying out loud! She should be able to handle herself against a bigoted moron! He shouldn't be more terrifying than the ruthless villains she'd faced!

“Momo,” Mother said, her tone so shockingly soft that her head jerked up. Her gaze was fixated on her, as unreadable as ever.

Momo swallowed thickly as she forced herself to square her shoulders. She should apologize for her behavior. She’d caused a scene and surely Mother had been embarrassed by that. “I’m sorry, Mother,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she said, blinking in surprise at her words. There was another pregnant pause as Momo let her gaze wander away again, fixated on a small fuzz ball in the limo carpeting by the heel of her left shoe. “Is that normal? What that little brat was saying and doing. Is that what normally happens to you at these kinds of things?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded timidly, wringing her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, for blowing up like that. I can normally keep myself more composed than that during im-!”

“Do not apologize to me, Momo; you were not in the wrong,” she insisted, her voice catching in a mix of irritation and… concern? Mother opened her mouth three times before shutting it again and sighing, her shoulders slumping. “So this has happened and you never told us.”

Feeling a lump sprout and block her throat, Momo could only nod in response.

Mother lifted her head to meet Momo’s eye, her expression filled with sadness and regret. “You don’t feel comfortable coming to me with these concerns, do you?”

“It’s not just… I… So many more important things are going on right now. I don’t want to put more on your plate,” she said softly.

“Nothing is more important than you, Momo,” she argued with a shake of her head. She looked away for a moment before taking a breath and reaching out, setting one of her hands on top of Momo’s. “I haven’t always been the best with affection when it comes to you, or, well, really anyone aside from your Father. I suppose that I had always assumed that it was fine to leave those things to him, that one of us would focus on the emotional side of things and the other the more practical. Father was the fun parent you could play games and sing songs with, while I was the parent who made sure you kept your Quirk in check and your grades up. I thought… I thought that would be a good balance, that it would give you everything you needed. I’ve come to understand how wrong that belief was.”

“M-Mother?”

She placed her other hand above her heart, giving Momo’s a small squeeze as she held her gaze. “I’m going to work at being better for you, at giving you what you need from me. I need you to understand that my failings as a mother... None of that was ever your fault. I’m sorry that my actions made it seem like my love is something you have to work to earn. I love you, Momo, and I’m sorry I’ve presented that fact as being conditional and not eternal,”

She could feel more tears starting to pool in her eyes before she surged forward to embrace Mother. She was tense for a second before she embraced her back, one hand gently combing through her hair soothingly. The rest of the ride back to campus was spent like that, with her face burrowed into Mother’s arms as she cried and settled. It was strange, how nice it felt. It wasn’t like the bear hugs Father used to give her, where her small frame would be completely enveloped and held snug. No, this was something a bit more careful and delicate, something nostalgic and delicate but just as important.

Mother offered to walk her in, carefully dabbing the smeared mascara and smudged eyeshadow aside with a handkerchief, but Momo insisted she’d be fine alone. After stepping out of the vehicle and into the brisk evening air, she took a breath to help settle her nerves and maybe alleviate the twinge of a small headache she could feel brewing. It rattled inside her, still a little shaken up, but she squared her shoulders and made the trek inside. Mother didn’t leave until she was inside, she noted, and made a mental note to talk to her later more about everything that had happened that night. The incident with Manzo had been one thing, but there was the separate can of worms it had opened that she wanted to take care of, too.

She made sure to be quiet as she made her way to the elevator, the sounds of some of their peers milling about in the living room easy to hear. She was pretty sure they were gearing up for their Saturday evening game fest. Surely there’d be a barrage of broken controllers a la Bakugo if it was one of their Super Smash nights, she thought with a small huff, before turning to hit the elevator button. “Momo?” A familiar voice chimed beside her, causing her to jump.

She turned and blinked to be greeted by Todoroki Shoto, staring at her with his usual unreadable face, and let out a small squeak of shock. “Ah, Shoto,” she sighed as her shoulders sagged slightly. “Perhaps Ochako-Chan’s suggestion of putting a bell on you wouldn't be such a bad suggestion. You startled me.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, tilting his head as if sizing her up, and blinked slowly. “I got my Snooty and Cranky villagers earlier,” he said.

She gasped before pouting at him. “You said you’d wait for me to do any more island hopping, Shoto!” she huffed.

“I needed to load up so I could give Ojiro some oranges, and then I got kinda wrapped up doing stuff,” he admitted. He stole a glance at their classmates as Sato and Tooru made their way from the kitchen area with a few bowls and snacks. “Are you going to join everyone else for JackBox tonight?”

She shook her head. “No. Tonight has been a bit more… eventful than I would have liked,” she said, making sure to keep her composure. She didn’t want to worry him over it all. “I just want to go finish washing off the make up, put on some comfortable clothes and relax.”

“I’ll get snacks, then,”

“Huh? Snacks?”

“I still have two plots left for my island and a lot of Nook miles tickets. You get changed and I’ll meet you in your room in a few minutes so we can do them together,” And with that, he moved towards the kitchen.

She blinked and watched him before letting out a small laugh and shaking her head, hitting the elevator button. Shoto was an odd one to be sure, especially since he’d started working towards coming out of his shell more. A part of her was grateful but another part found his stubborn streak to be a bit exasperating. Then again, he only seemed to push when he knew something was wrong, so maybe it was more just trying to offer comfort? Despite his usual aloof demeanor, he was surprisingly astute at reading a room. As to whether or not he could understand how to react to what he was able to deduce was another matter entirely, though.

She set that aside while she got washed up and changed. Her mind shifted gears as she stared at her reflection, thinking about what Mother had said. She felt a tightness in her chest as her mind whirled again. There was some comfort in Mother acknowledging that there was room for growth, sure, but… The catalyst that remained unsaid left her sick. Even if Mother hadn’t said it, she knew this was a reaction to the looming shadow of Father’s death. She had to swallow a growing lump in her throat and shake her head, put those thoughts to bed until a more appropriate time.

She didn’t want to ruin the rest of she or Shoto’s evenings.

She opted for some old sweats and a tank top, taking a moment to comb her hair out from the complex updo it had been styled into, opting to leave it loose afterwards to help abate the small headache she had brewing. Though, if she was honest, sitting and playing games with her boyfriend seemed like a nice way to wind down. She had been having a blast watching Shoto become completely enamored with his little island and all the cute animal villagers with him.

She’d had her own file a good time longer than him and was mostly done with all the villager-hunting and replacing she’d wanted to do but found watching him work through his first experience with it endearing. He’d never even played an Animal Crossing game before so everything was completely new to him. Once she was settled, she took her unit off the dock and propped open the door. Not too long after she’d taken the time to give daily gifts to Phoebe, Ozzie, Chai and Shep, Shoto appeared in the doorway. He had four lychee ramunes, a bowl of popcorn, a bag of konpeito, a variety bag of hi-chews and a package of black licorice tucked away in his arms, his Switch case strap around his wrist. “Ah, here, let me help you,” she urged, setting her Switch down and getting up to help him. “Also, you can dock your Switch on mine. That way we can see your island visits on the big screen together.”

“Thanks. I grabbed a few different things but I can go downstairs and get more later,” he offered as she took the drinks and popcorn. He set the other snacks down on her dresser before heading over to her bed to rearrange the pillows to form the usual cocoon they made for play sessions together. She took his Switch and docked it for him, then grabbed his joycons and put them in the controller holder. Once that was all set up, Shoto settled into the large pillowy ring with his legs spread so that she could settle between them, resting her back against his chest, him using her pillows to prop him up and her relying on him.

She used her remote to flick on the television, then grabbed her console from the other end of the bed and reached for the bowl of popcorn, popping a few pieces into her mouth. “So you did some island hopping while I was gone? Find anyone you liked?” she asked as they watched his game load up.

“I encountered Diana on one of them. She talked to me like she didn’t know me, which was weird,” he said.

“Well, of course she did! That Diana is different from the Diana on my island,” she giggled. She then perked up and glanced up at him. “Oh, and I still need to come get some oranges from you. They’re the only fruit I’m missing on my island.”

“I still can’t believe that out of the fourteen people that have this game, I’m the only one who ended up with oranges as their island fruit. Or that one of you didn’t at least get it as your exotic option,” he commented as his character stepped out of his house. “Oh, and how soon before I can move my villagers' houses?” 

“You’ve already gotten your first three furnished homes, so I think you should have access to it. It’s just a matter of having the bells to spend on moving someone,” she explained as she glanced down at her own screen. Shep came rushing from the left to talk to her excitedly. “Who were you thinking about moving?”

“Roald. I want to move him to the other side of the island from me,”

“Aw, why? He’s so cute!”

“I think he’s plotting to kill me,” he said, completely serious as he stopped in front of the penguin in question's house. When he’d first made his file, Shari and Roald were his beginning villagers and he’d decided to place their tents close to his own for the sake of ease.

She snorted and looked up at him. “He’s just a penguin, Shoto,”

“Just look at his eyes, Momo… He’s a villainous mastermind,” To illustrate his point, he ran his character in a circle around the little avatar, before turning and darting to the left. “That’s why I need more villagers like Ruby and Kyle, who have my back no matter what. I need a whole squad for the day he finally snaps.”

“You don’t think Gayle and Punchy would have your back?”

“Gayle would probably be on my side. She and Roald had a fight the other day so there’s bad blood there. But I don’t want Punchy putting his life on the line. He is a precious boy who must be protected,” he said, glancing down at her with a stern gaze.

She couldn’t help but snort at the expression. Specifically in that it was being enacted regarding pixelated animals on a Nintendo game. “And did you find anyone worthy of enlisting for this most noble of causes?” she teased.

He hummed, reaching with one hand to grab a bit of popcorn himself as he came to a stop between a labelled plot at the edge of the beach. He clicked on the sign, pulling up a card that read “This spot reserved for Static’s new home.”

“Oh, you got Static? He’s a great choice for your Cranky!”

“I like that he is a very tiny squirrel with a very deep voice,” he said.

“Much like how you like that Punchy is a cat and is Lazy?”

“You get me,” he said before running upwards. He crossed a bridge to another area to show another plot with a sign that read “This spot reserved for Willow’s new home.”

Momo giggled. “Willow’s a good choice, too. I almost expected that you’d try to get another cat villager for your Snooty villager, but sheep villagers are always a good one, too,” she said excitedly. She plopped a few more pieces of popcorn into her mouth as she walked into Bruce’s house on her own game. “So you officially have every personality type on your island! Do you have any idea as to what kind of personality types you’d like to have duplicates of?”

“Hmm… Not too sure. You have two Jocks and two Normals, right?” As he asked that, he ran back to his Resources Center to get the first of his last two house kits.

“Yeah. I have Bam and Tybalt, and Bertha and Savannah,” she hummed. She watched as he placed the new house right behind his own, as if it would be watching the back of his own. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at the sheer ridiculousness of him.

He hummed thoughtfully before he made his way into the airport. “I guess I’ll just go for characters I like. Personality doesn’t really matter to me since I already have one of every type.”

“That’s a good approach, I think,” she hummed, tossing a bit more popcorn into her mouth. “How many Nook Tickets do you have?” 

“13,” he said while speeding through the dialogue to board the plane. “I farmed Nook miles after I found Static and Willow so I could go get more villagers once you got back.”

She tilted her head up and pressed a small kiss to his chin. “So sweet,” she hummed before looking down at her own game as she started looking for her daily fossils. She’d already completed the fossil exhibits in her game, but like the extra scratch she got from selling the duplicates.

For a moment things were quiet as Shoto used his ladder to climb up the three tiers of the small island to the top, where his potential new villager was waiting. To then immediately start climbing back down at the sheep sitting in front of the campfire. “Nope. Nope. N. O. P. E,” he mumbled as he did.

“Aw, you don’t want Pietro? He’s considered rare!”

“And he can stay rare and away from my island,”

The next three islands were deemed ones Shoto wasn’t interested in - Eugene, Jeremiah and Limberg - not that she could blame him with Limberg. “He’s not particularly good,” she mumbled.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen a single mouse villager that I like the design of,” he commented as he wandered off the desk and onto his fifth island.

“Bree and Dora are pretty cute but most of them are really lackluster,” she agreed, saving her own file and setting her Switch in her lap as he approached the campfire.

Shoto blinked in slight surprise. “A snow leopard?”

“Actually, Bianca’s classified as a tiger, despite her markings,” she said. She watched as he immediately invited her to his island. “Just so you know, she’s a Peppy type, I think.”

“She looks like Fuyumi-Nee,” he said. Ah, of course that would be enough to get him on board with adding Bianca to his roster.

She set her Switch aside and carefully maneuvered off of her bed. “I’m going to open one of the ramune. Do you want me to open one for you, too?”

She made quick work of opening the drinks and offering him his once he finished placing his last plot back on his own island. She took a quick sip from hers before opening the package of black licorice and eating a piece as she watched him. “Mind if I ask you something unrelated, Shoto?”

He glanced up at her, mismatched eyes sparking with something she couldn’t quite place, before he set his drink on the bedside table and patted the space she’d left. “Sure,” he said, his avatar boarding the plane to do his next round of island hops.

She was quick to settle back in with him, turning her body this time to snuggle into his chest. She felt him shift to wrap his arms around her, controller lax in his hand. “We’ve discussed it before but… What do you think it takes to forgive someone?”

He let out a thoughtful noise. “Well, I think forgiveness is different from person to person. Everyone has a threshold for what they feel is forgivable, so I think that needs to be considered,” He set the controller off to the side to card one hand through her hair while the other stroked up along her spine, the movements slow and soothing. “Speaking from my own situation… I chose forgiveness because I could see a genuine change and a refusal to shy away from the wrongs that had been done. I’m still keeping a distance, and I’m ready to burn that bridge in a heartbeat if I see a relapse, but… I can see authentic change. And that’s enough for me to offer my tentative, conditional forgiveness.” 

She nodded at his words, closing her eyes and burrowing into him further. She had always wanted to have a better relationship with Mother, if she was honest. So… This could be a good chance for that, right? They could work on mending things between them and find some common ground. The thought of having a better relationship with her left a warmth in her chest, one that made her smile. Could they have proper Mother-Daughter days? Maybe she could learn more about the older woman’s hobbies and interests outside of Pro Heroics work? That could be nice. “Thank you, Shoto,” she mumbled.

“Any time, Momo,” he said, tipping his head to press a peck to the top of her head. He perked up again and glanced at the screen. “Not to derail but… I think it’s another cat?”

“Oh yeah? What color?” she mumbled.

He shifted his hands to pick his controller back up, keeping his arms looped around her though. “Grey. Oh, their eyes are different colors,”

“Oh, that’s-!” Momo’s eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking wildly over her shoulder at the screen. “Shoto, that’s Raymond! You got Raymond!”

[agreatbigworldn]

A new parner for EDF Logroño in Primera Iberdrola

EDF Logroño and DUX yesterday announced a new agreement for the co-ownership of the Rioja club, which will become DUX Logroño on 1 July.

Interview in spanish here

 What does this mean? We spoke with Mario Fernández, CEO of DUX and with Iván Antoñanzas, President of EDF Logroño, to better understand this formula that is not so difficult and that involves a long-term investment of the e-sports club. DUX comes to women's football to contribute its valuable social mass, 16 million viewers, and its experience. EDF Logroño will continue with sports management. A project that only thinks about growth, and that will benefit Spanish women's football.

What is DUX?

Dux is a quite special E-Sports club because we only compete in video games that imitate real sport like FIFA, NB2K, racing… and since our birth we have had the intention of mixing the two worlds, the real and the virtual one. We believe that these types of video games are easier to understand, sports video games allow that if you watch a FIFA game you understand it, whatever type of spectator you are, it has the same rules as real football and can be understood from an adult to child. With that ambition to mix the two worlds, we already gave the first brushstroke of the project with our player Kolderiu who is a goalkeeper in Second B and YouTuber, with an important social mass behind. From that first step, we decided to increase the link between real and virtual sports and we entered into a partnership with Internacional de Madrid, respecting the entire sports structure they had. We enter as a partner to contribute our experience at the level of image and visibility, which is what we are really experts. Not only do we provide that brand value, but also other actions, such as broadcasting the games on Twitch that we consider a key action because that is where our two audiences are located, the virtual soccer and the real one. You have said two key things in this speech, the first stops the controversy generated in social networks and media about the “absorption” of EDF Logroño by an E-Sports club. What we are talking about here has nothing to do with an absorption. Of course, we have never made an absorption. We are co-owners because we have made an investment in the club to be able to be members of EDF Logroño. We are not experts in real football, we love football, we love sport, but the people at EDF know about this much more than we do. They have sports experience. What we can contribute is visibility, image, and work. We understand that the headlines have gone easy, to an absorption, but it is an easy criticism and not realistic at all. Attention is diverting from what is important, which is the investment of a young group that is committed to women's football. And I think it's something to celebrate because it can change things. Here two forces converge that have been growing unstoppably for four years, e-sports and women's football. Before you talked about the visibility on Twitch that you already contribute to the Second B with the International DUX, which will soon be to the First RFEF. You have 16 million viewers as an organic audience through the channels of the different members of DUX, this possibility of attracting even a percentage of that audience is not being seen right now as that possibility of growth. Yes, we entered women's football with the clear intention of adding. We come with the experience of giving that visibility to DUX International and we want to do the same, with a very clear line of work, with EDF Logroño. We believe in the potential of women's football and we want to have the opportunity to grow together, and we also believe that we do it in an environment where it is easy for us to trust, that they will know our work and we know theirs, and that we both have the same goal from the get-go.Maybe we lovers of modest and old football are a bit reluctant to new formulas, but women's football is going for a professional league and we are in 2021. Does it matter so much who invests if the goal is to grow? Here we must thank the people of EDF Logroño who have been a little "visionary" and able to understand that this project that we presented yesterday is a project for the future in which the next few years will be key, and that for that we must attract Young. We must ensure that these generations become members of the club, and I am sure that if we ask the children and young people of Logroño, of their school, they will know who DUX is and they will be happy about this alliance. And that translates into fans. We think of this project as a project for the future, and we believe in the ability we have to make this project great year after year. Because we have to think about that new generation of spectators and players who no longer grow up in the same football and social environment that we had before. That's it. We, for example, within our e-sports universe include Laura Moreno as a professional player, and we were especially excited because thanks to that visibility, other clubs gave other players the opportunity. And not only that, the competitions, talks, etc. were increased. She brought with her a change that is a symptom of a social evolution. And that same illusion is what we now bring to women's football. And with EDF in particular we have been bringing an illusion for a long time, Olga García was a fan of ours, she played FIFA with our kit, and we now see that illusion turned into a union that will be key for the coming years in the growth of both DUX and EDF Logroño. You said before that this is a project for the future. Many of the doubts that were raised yesterday on social networks were around the idea of what will happen if EDF descends to Reto. We are not concerned. Of course, we believe that permanence will be achieved, but go down or go up, our bet is firm. The investment is made, the project is underway, we trust in the sports management that has been and will be done, and we are here to help, support, and move forward in time.

Iván Antoñanzas, president of EDF, is full of optimism in the face of this new situation that gives the club a different air. Unlike everything we know so far, at a time when giving visibility to a women's football team is key to attracting new investors and consolidating a future project. We are very happy. A few months ago they contacted us, they explained their project idea, what they do, and their desire to join a women's soccer team. It was not very difficult to understand each other. We think that it is very important for the club to get an agreement like this as it is an independent club, and working together to be more solvent and more powerful gives us a guarantee for the future. Although there has been talk of absorption, it is not that at all. We are partners, and we will be for many years. We are not a SAD, we are converting now, and when we are they will have a high percentage of the shares. We are on our way to a professional league, to a new scene within women's football. The traditional viewer has a hard time understanding this type of terminology, in the end it is simply a partner who comes to grow with you ? That's how it is. This agreement completes a little the infinite club that DUX wants and of which we are now part and for us it is an important force. We will continue to dedicate ourselves to what we have done so far and that has put us where we are and they will give a boost in image, social networks and visibility which is what numbers 1 are. We hope to continue growing and try to have much higher goals in the future . Mario Fernández, CEO of DUX, told us that this is a long-term project, not a sudden adventure, and that you go together no matter what. We all have it super clear. In the end, they are going to invest a lot in the coming years so that we can consolidate the project and in the medium-term future we can get enough financing through that visibility to build increasingly powerful projects. Of course it is in the long term, they will have an important part of the shareholding and that is not for four days. The idea is that it is forever and that together we can do something unique.

[live-long-and-time-warp]

It’s hard to leave your toxic friends... but it’s so worth it

I don’t normally do this, but as I sat in a Saturday morning meeting thinking about all of the things I felt this past Friday, I felt compelled to share my story.

A brief background: throughout college and for several years afterward, I considered my tight-knit group of college friends as some of my closest. In addition to my best friend of 20 years, some friends from high school, my work team, and some other dear friends scattered across the globe and throughout the U.S., this group of college friends was who I considered to be my foundation. This group of friends was extremely important to me, but it was not without its bumps in the road.

In my senior year of college, I had a falling out with one of these friends, the ringleader I’ll call her. I say this because she is quite honestly the source of 95% of my problems with this group. She is a master manipulator, and an expert gaslighter. There were a few others that contributed to this too, but she was by far the worst.

I can’t elaborate on every single thing that this person said and did over our 7 year “friendship” but a brief summary would be: asking me point blank if I thought I might be a lesbian after coming out as bi (to this friend group and in her presence, I might add) only several months prior; asking me how much money I spend on books about “Chernobyl” every month with the implication that she’s concerned about my finances; telling me that my resume may not be as impressive as I think it is (I’m the deputy director of a nonprofit with both state-based and national projects and had been for close to a year prior to this conversation); would clean up the crumbs from in front of me while I was still eating and comment on my messiness; told me that one of our mutual friends doesn’t like discussing politics with me because I get too fired up (again, I work for a nonprofit that deals with social justice); telling me that crying while comforting my friend who had just lost a loved one to suicide after they began crying was weird and that I “stole her thunder” (we were slightly drunk, I’m an empath, and she was talking about some deeply personal things that moved me and crying was my natural response... and oddly, she was appreciative of my tears because I was “the only person that actually stayed with her”); and so much more that I know I’m forgetting.

There were many other things more insidious, including gaslighting me about my inclusion in several group activities and why it should have been obvious why one friend disliked me enough to not invite me to her wedding after years of claiming cluelessness.

In our senior year, I left that friend for the first time after she humiliated me at a party by commenting loudly and with condescension on my weight. When I cut ties with her, I felt as if I had just left an abusive relationship, and for a while I didn’t want to seek a friendship with her again.

But the other friends in our group still hung out with both of us, so eventually I allowed myself to be sucked back in. 

In the years after we graduated, I thought that this person had actually changed- I worked abroad for a year after college, and after returning I saw a marked difference in her demeanor and how she interacted with us. She seemed more self-aware of how her words and actions adversely affected other people, and I thought that maybe the ugliness of that horrible portion of my senior year was now just a faded scar.

But then things escalated very quickly. Over the course of several weeks at the beginning of this year, I started to feel myself questioning whether I had made the right choice in rejoining the group: I was so sure of how I felt after I left it the first time, I felt so empowered and free. So why did I allow myself to rejoin them? Was it really the right choice?

I got my answer a week after the insurrection at the Capitol. One friend who already had a history of saying hateful things about women (which I tried to put a stop to to no avail) finally went full white supremacist asshole, and instead of joining me in calling his comments unacceptable and defending me as he mansplained my job to me, the ringleader criticized me and told me that “I can work in activism and politics and be wrong”.

That’s the moment I finally woke up.

I left the chat that very moment. Every time they added me back without my consent, I left again.

Every time I got message from the ringleader that was full of gaslighting comments and false apologies, I didn’t say a word. Just deleted the message. Finally, I was able to gather the strength needed to block those toxic friends from all social media and my phone. One of these friends was someone I tried to make like me for years after I was told that she hated me for no reason, by her own admission.

Some may not agree with this approach, but I made the choice to cut contact and go radio silent on my own after consulting my friends, specifically my best friend who had been there for me during the incident my senior year.

As weeks went by, some of the true friends from that group reached out, and then immediately backed off after my polite request for space, indicating that I was welcome back at any time and they were always here for me.

The ringleader chose the opposite approach. She continued to gaslight me, made a group chat with myself, the white supremacist, and herself. She sent me messages from her second account, one that I remembered to unfriend but forgot to block. She told me that if I don’t “course correct” by a certain date she would block me on my account (too late, bro) and that “we wish you all the best”. This implies that it was on behalf of the entire group, something I know three of them would never do. However, at this point, I have had to distance myself from all of those friends so as not to give the ringleader the attention she wants from me.

I lost over half of my closest friends over night. It felt like my skeleton had been torn from my body. I considered giving in several times and reaching out to them. But now, over a month later, I understand how necessary it was to excise what was essentially a malignant tumor. The Chernobyl researcher in me wants to compare it to Acute Radiation Syndrome (ARS): an unseen poison that slowly infiltrates every part of your mind and body and rots them from the inside out.

2020 was an extremely hard year for me, as it was for so many. I am so lucky and privileged to have been in the financial situation that I was and had the support of my genuine friends and family.

But it was still the worst year of my life. I have suffered from pretty bad OCD for most of my life, and while I usually keep it under control, last year it became nearly impossible to do so. I also fell very deeply into clinical depression, and worked to the point of burn out and exhaustion. The primary thoughts I had during this depression were: 

“Why aren’t you working? You’re lazy.”

“You’re a failure, you’re 26 and haven’t applied to grad school yet.”

“You piece of shit, still living with your parents? What a disappointment.”

“What is wrong with you?”

It was unbearable. I’m honestly not entirely sure how I survived it, but I think a certain 3-year-old goddaughter of mine and a few close, real friends had something to do with it.

I worked very hard with my friends, a therapist, and a psychiatrist to overcome this depression and get my OCD back under control. Now, I feel like such a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I still have depression, and the OCD will always be with me (like a bad habit... literally?); but I am so much more happy with myself and my life, as I should be.

And I am very, very, very well aware that therapy was not the only reason I have recently begun feeling this way. It’s very hard to see that you’re being manipulated while it’s happening. Because of my trusting nature, sometimes manipulative comments would be interpreted as heartfelt guidance.

It wasn’t until I started the journey away from them that I saw just how much this group and their negativity (because even the best of them weren’t always the kindest) impacted my mental health.

The event that made me want to share this story is this: yesterday was a rough work day. As a full-time community organizer, I am pretty much burnt out all of the time. Breaks are taken, but with projects addressing issues from COVID relief to systemic racism and police brutality, it never feels like enough. 

I had to officially take a step back as a sole lead on an annual event that I organized for two years, and it was gut-wrenching.

Now, I cry often, but I don’t usually get to have therapeutic cries. You know what I mean? Like, as you cry, all of the tension that built up in your body by negative feelings is finally being released with every breath and sob?

Well, the dam finally broke in a team meeting on Friday. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop. And my colleagues were so, so kind. They let me vent, they let me cry, they would not accept my apologies for crying. They told me that I was strong for setting up boundaries, and that they were here for me.

We spent a lot of time at the end of the meeting each talking about our self-care routines. And as I sit here typing this, I am actively trying not to cry at the purity of their support.

This experience has taught me what real friends are. Real friends do not put limitations on your emotions and fears.

Real friends do not give you deadlines for processing your feelings.

Real friends do not criticize you for things that, while they may not agree with, do not affect anyone’s health or marginalize anyone.

Real friends don’t marginalize vulnerable communities.

Real friends help and support you with constructive criticism (when it’s asked for) and love, not patronization and manipulation.

I thought I knew all of these things before, but I know now that I am still learning... and that that is perfectly okay. I don’t regret most of the times we shared together. I am appreciative of the positive memories that their friendships gave me.

Three of the friends in this group are actually good people, and maybe one day when the dust is settled I’ll reach out to them and establish one-on-one friendships with them (if they want to). 

And I have to thank my real friends, including @tryingtobealwaystrying, for all saying the exact same thing: you deserve so much happiness and fuck all of those guys.

So, the point of this post is to tell everyone this: you can leave your toxic friends. It’s incredibly difficult, stressful, and honestly traumatizing. And there’s no shame in needing time or feeling unable to leave those friends now. There’s also no shame in returning to those friends.

But please know, from this nerd to the reader: anyone that makes you feel any less than the beautiful, amazing human being you are and doesn’t want to help you become an even better human on your own terms is not a true friend. They don’t deserve you or the light you can bring into their lives.

And every agonizing step away from those friends is a step closer to a happier, healthier life.

[macattackp]

Lies Chronically Ill/Injured People Tell Themselves:

1. I Am a Burden Who Only Takes From Others and Can Never Give Back

We all have things that we feel we SHOULD be able to provide. As a guy, it KILLS me that I can’t do things like shovel the driveway, help carry heavy items, or have a job that could make me a breadwinner for someone.

Don’t undersell what you do bring though! For one thing, chronically ill/injured people tend to be masters of empathy, not to mention we get pretty knowledgeable on the medical system. If you aren’t... don’t fret over it! If you can’t do something, then don’t! Focus on what you CAN do instead!

2. I Am Undeserving of Love Because Who Would Take on a Burden Like Me?

This one is another huge struggle for a lot of people. I know as a guy, I feel the added pressure of being worthless if I can’t provide financially for a girl. (No matter how progressive people may be, this progressiveness tends to vanish when their daughters’ well being are concerned), but I know just as many girls who say the same things.

“How can someone love me when I just am stuck in bed all day?” “Why would someone choose me if I could never have kids?” “Who would choose a spouse who may not be able to have sex?”

Look. I’ll be honest, I have no wise advice on this one as to find someone who is willing to support you on your struggles. Nor can I be dense and say “You’re just misreading people!” because let’s admit it... our lives are tough and there are many who would choose not to join us.... what I can say though... is I have had friends who had chronic illnesses. Some could never have sex. Some would require tons of medical expenses. Some were missing limbs or body parts. One was even pretty much guaranteed to die before she turned 30.... And they ended up getting married, and loved, and supported. I don’t know what the future holds for you, but I do know it IS possible! So don’t put yourself down or give up hope!

3. I Have to Work Harder to Keep Up With Everyone or Else I Will be a Failure!

This world has a main road, but that main road has a lot of cracks... and there are probably more people in this world who have fallen through the cracks, than walk on the main road. But we feel like everyone in this world is on the main road because once people fall through the cracks they tend to be overlooked even though there are so many of them.

It is not fair, nor is it doable to be expected to keep up with others when you are carrying a different burden. We have the Paralympics for a reason. Would you ask a man with one leg to race against the Olympic sprinters? Would you ask someone carrying a massive boulder to outrun someone without one?

And in all honesty, it is not always as cut and dry as “Accept you’ll get 4th or 5th place.” Our world tends to try to put us on rails. We make everything systematic and anything that doesn’t fit within our metrics is considered broken. We often judge people more by their process than their results! But the way laid out by others as the “Right way” isn’t always the only or even the best way! 

Learn how YOUR body works! I was a horrible student in school until I finally gave up relying on teachers and just studied the way I enjoyed it. I figured at that point “As long as I pass, what else matters.” but had the added surprise when I jumped from a 60′s-70′s student at best to my lowest grade being a 94! It doesn’t always work out this well, but your body is yours. No one else can tell you how it works. Learn from what people have done in the past but look for the way YOU work best! When you look back you realize, none of the biggest world changers really ever lived their lives by the book anyways!

4. I Have To Get Better So I Can Have a Life!

To an extent, this makes sense. Without energy, or finances, and with a schedule stuffed to the gills with doctors appointments meaning you can never go far from home... it is hard to feel like there is really much you can do... but... at the same time....

YOU ARE ALIVE NOW!

You may not have the finances to do what you want. You may not have the social life that you enjoy. You may not have an overabundance of time or energy... But you are alive RIGHT now! You are allowed to live!

Write that book you always wanted! Learn a new language! Cook yourself a big meal! You may tell yourself “BUT I HAVE SO MUCH OTHER STUFF I SHOULD BE FOCUSING ON INSTEAD!” 

Look! That stuff will be there whether you focus on it 24/7 or 12/5! Don’t let it get out of hand, but if you aren’t going to be able to solve it by worrying about it more then don’t! Spend your time doing things that will revitalize you, help you grow, and give you some interesting stories to tell once this is all over!

5. I Am Not Allowed to Be Happy or Have Fun Until I Am Better!

This one is a tough one as it ties into our impostor syndrome. That horrible feeling that we get every time we start to enjoy ourselves or smile in public of “Oh no! What if people assume I’ve been faking this whole time?!?!?!”

You are allowed to laugh. You are allowed to smile. You are allowed to have good things happen to you. Yeesh, there is no time in life that it is more important to have happy moments than through hardships!

Being happy or enjoying yourself from time to time through hardships isn’t a sign that your hardships were never that hard. It is a sign that you are fighting forward. That you aren’t letting this take over your life. And plus, as human beings we NEED hope and happiness... we die both mentally and physically without it

6. There is No Future After This

This is one that I personally struggle with... if we count the 6 years of trauma as a kid that originally gave me PTSD, and these last 7+ years of pushing as hard as I can only to fail harder and harder (including these last 2.5 years that have been giving me a whole new layer of trauma on top of my previous trauma) I’m reaching the point where more than half my life has been going through miserable, destructive times where I lose most things that matter to me and find myself alone at the start again in a dark place. It is hard... honestly... Anyone who follows my account and sees my tagless venting posts know that there are more than enough times I question why I even try anymore when I don’t even know what’s left of me...

But there was a movie I watched a while ago... another cheesy hallmark movie, but it was a good one as far as hallmark movies go. I remember they had this one line in it that really stuck with me.

“I’ve lost everything 3-4 times now! It’s the perfect place to start!”

Now I’m not as optimistic as that ambitious old man from the movie was... but I do know this.... You never know what life can hold. The same way you can lose everything that matters to you in a year, I’ve seen people gain more than they ever thought possible in a week. Not to say we are all about to win the lottery or by some miracle wake up completely healed of all afflictions... but I do believe that if it was possible to have things go this bad, it is also possible for things to go much better.

And let’s admit it. You might be thinking “Oh! But I’m not strong enough to make it happen!” and you’d be right... you aren’t. But honestly who is? We live in a world where tons of people succeed or fail... and very few I can say “earned it.”

Life IS unfair, but if it wasn’t, we’d all be dead! What we really get upset about is that it seems to be more unfair in some peoples’ favour than our own. But life is tough. The fact that any of us live is a miracle in itself. Don’t limit what the future holds for you based on what you feel you’re able to do. You aren’t a static person, and this world doesn’t rise or fall on your shoulders either! (even though it feels like that most mornings). Give it your best with what you’ve got every day, and realize even if each day feels like a year, this is still only a season of life. Personally I want to fight and survive long enough to see a day where this all seems like it was worth it!

7. I Will Never Be Self Sufficient!

The lie in this one isn’t that you will be self sufficient! The lie is that people assume ANYONE is self sufficient!

Look. Do you see people growing their own food? Even if they do, do they grow their own fertilizer? Even if they do, did they build their house from scratch, their car, their fridge, do all their electrical work, never once look up anything on the internet?!?!?! No!

We are NOT a self sufficient species. From the minute we are born we NEED people just to stay alive let alone to succeed! So you have to rely on people in a way you don’t see others needing to rely on people! Does an electrician complain that he needs to call someone to fix the backed up pipes when the plumber doesn’t??? No! That would be stupid! And to try and fix it on his own would be stupider! 

You are ALLOWED to rely on others. You are ALLOWED to ask for help. This doesn’t make you any less of a person! This makes you human!

8. I’m Not Worth It . . .

This is something I struggled with even before I realized just how much was stacked against me from the start... I remember one time, someone very precious to me sat down in front of me and for 15 minutes she said nothing else but “YOU ARE WORTHY!” She repeated it over and over again in different ways, not letting me talk and refusing to say anything else until I finally just accepted that I maybe was. Times change, and she may not be around to say that anymore, but those words still stick with me, and that moment still pops in my head every time I am feeling really down on myself like a planted warrior to fight against my internal self doubt...

There are many things in our lives that make us feel worthless.... “I messed up and hurt them.” “I have a lot of health concerns.” “I am not attractive.” “I have a perverted mind.” “I don’t fit with what society says I should be.” “My parents/people who I care about said I wasn’t good enough.” The list goes on... but YOU ARE WORTHY!

“But I don’t deserve to be happy!” YOU DO!

“But I don’t deserve anyone to put up with me.” YOU DO!

“But I don’t deserve a happy life” YOU DO!

“But I don’t deserve a second chance.” YOU DO!

Whatever you’re worried about

Whatever is bugging you

Whatever lies are bouncing around in your head right now saying you should just disappear and stop being a bother to others

YOU

ARE

WORTHY!

Don’t let anyone or anything tell you otherwise, LEAST of all yourself!

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t know what you’ve done or haven’t done.... but I can tell you this right now. You are a one of a kind beautiful life. You are allowed to exist in this world, you are allowed to flourish, you are allowed to enjoy your time with it and interact with others. What’s more, you aren’t just put up with, you are NEEDED! Because there is only one of you out there, and this world needs you. Treat yourself well, and let yourself know just how valuable you are. You are you, and that is beautiful!

[whumphoarder]

D is for Diploma

Summary: Between all of his commitments, Peter’s grades start slipping, putting him in danger of losing his academic scholarship to Midtown. Stressed and guilt-ridden about the effect this will have on May’s finances, he ends up worrying himself sick and having a breakdown in Tony’s lab.

Word count: 3,759

Genre: emotional hurt/comfort, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thanks so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading and encouragement <3

Link to read on Ao3

“But how are you getting a C in gym class?” Ned balks at his friend. He’s peering over Peter’s shoulder as he scrolls through his quarterly grades on the school library computer. “Everyone gets an A. I’m getting an A. All you gotta do is show up and at least look like you’re trying and boom, automatic A.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, remember after the Rhino dude attacked me, how I had all those bruises that didn’t heal right away?”

“Yeah...” Ned recalls, frowning. “But you said they didn’t hurt.”

“They didn’t! Not really, anyway,” Peter says quickly. “But like, I didn’t really want everyone to see that, so I kinda didn’t change into my uniform. And apparently if you don’t change, Wilson just marks you as absent.”

“Ah.” Ned gives him a sympathetic wince. “Yeah, that’s lame.”

“What I don’t understand,” MJ pipes up, glancing up from the book she’s had her nose in all afternoon, “is the D in Spanish. Rodríguez isn’t even a hard teacher.”

Peter’s face flushes with embarrassment. “So… I might have forgotten to submit a couple assignments.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You forgot? He reminds us what’s due, like, three times every class period.”

“I mean, it was just the take-home quiz...” he mumbles. “And some of the homework sheets. Oh, and that cultural essay thing about the ancient Mayans.”

“Peter.” She blinks at him. “That was like, twenty percent of our grade.”

“Well, to be fair, I did have a concussion,” he defends. “It was a little hard to remember stuff that week.”

Ned rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, that makes it so much better.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. Honestly, between all the hours he’s been logging lately as Spider-Man, his frequent internship nights with Tony in the lab, the increasingly demanding decathlon practice schedule as their team moves toward regionals, and the weekend shifts he’s started picking up at Delmar’s (because, let’s face it, the vigilante life isn’t the most lucrative career path—the occasional free churro notwithstanding), Peter thinks he’s been doing quite well juggling everything. Sure, his grades aren’t quite the neat row of A’s and the occasional B he’s grown accustomed to throughout his school career, but it’s not like he’s failing anything.

“I’ve just got different priorities now,” Peter says with a shrug. “I still show up and I’m passing all my classes, so what does the grade matter?”

MJ returns the shrug, looking vaguely impressed with him. “It doesn’t really. I’ve always been morally opposed to using arbitrary numerical values as a measure of academic success.” She shifts her gaze back to her novel before adding, offhandedly, “But you gotta admit, the tuition break is nice.”

And in those nine little words, she might as well have punched him in the gut.

“Oh shit,” Peter breathes out. Hurriedly, he starts gathering books together and getting to his feet.

“What?” Ned asks, looking puzzled.

“Um, I gotta go,” he blurts. And then before anyone can say another word, he’s out of the library doors.

X

The Parkers aren’t poor, exactly.

May works full-time at her job as a neonatal nurse, besides picking up extra shifts one or two nights a month to give them a bit of cushion. Between her wages and the social security checks that come every month from Ben’s pension, the two of them get by. Sure, Peter might not have name-brand clothes or the coolest tech or even a pair of gym shoes without a bit of duct tape on the soles, but there’s always been food on the table and a roof over his head, so Peter’s never stressed that much about their financial situation.

Maybe that’s how he managed to completely forget about his academic scholarship.

He’s qualified for it ever since he passed Midtown’s entrance exams in the top tenth percentile back in eighth grade. The money is substantial—slightly over two-thirds of the tuition cost is paid for him—and the scholarship automatically renews every semester provided he maintains a grade point average of 3.3 or higher, which has never been a problem for him.

That is, up until now. Factoring in his B in history, the C’s in gym and trig, and his D in Spanish, his GPA is currently sitting at 2.9.

Peter is going to lose his scholarship.

X

With less than two weeks left before finals, Peter starts cramming in all the studying he can manage. He stays up late, pouring over his trigonometry notes, trying to work his way through all the practice problems he’s been slacking on. He makes a point of showing up three minutes early to gym class every day, even if he has to use a bit of his enhanced speed to get all the way there from the chem labs on the other side of the building. On the train, he quizzes himself on the names of historical figures and the dates of battles long-since fought. Some of his teachers are willing to work with him, letting him turn in late assignments for partial credit or giving him additional projects to complete.

And then there’s Spanish.

“Isn’t there some kind of extra credit project I can do?” Peter begs. “Anything?”

It’s his study hall period and he’s at Señor Rodríguez’s desk for the second day in a row, desperately hoping for anything that could give his grade the boost it needs.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” his teacher says, sounding genuinely regretful. “But you’ve had countless opportunities this semester to get your grade up via homework and test retakes, all of which you neglected to take advantage of. Coming to me with less than ten days left in the semester requesting make up work for assignments worth significant percentages of your grade is simply too little, too late.”

“But… I had a concussion that week,” Peter argues. “Like, right when it was all due. And I would have done the work before, but…” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence without explaining his unorthodox extracurriculars. “I...I was busy,” he concludes weakly.

Rodríguez raises an eyebrow a little skeptically. “I didn’t receive any notes from the nurse’s office about this concussion.”

Peter glances down to his feet. “Well, that’s because she didn’t know, exactly…”

No one did—not even May. After getting all those bruises the week before, Peter didn’t want anyone to know he was hurt again so soon. Apparently Karen hadn’t deemed the blow to the head he took severe enough to override his wishes. He’d just dealt with the headaches and brain fog the best he could and sort of floated through that week on his own. In hindsight, maybe not his best plan.

“Well, I guess this is a good life lesson for you then, Peter,” Rodríguez says. His voice is firm, but not unkind. “Part of growing up is taking responsibility and learning to communicate with authority figures before you get into trouble.”

“Right, and I get that,” Peter babbles, “I just—”

His teacher holds up a finger, quieting him. “My job is to train my students for success in the real world, and sometimes that means reminding you that actions have consequences. ¿Lo entiendes?”

And Peter finds himself nodding. Because, despite the pool of dread growing in his gut, he does understand. He wants to be mad, wants to say it’s unfair and the universe gave him a raw deal and he doesn’t deserve this. But he can’t. Rodríguez is right.

And Peter’s still fucked.

X

By the time Friday rolls around, Peter’s barely functioning. Besides all the extra assignments and studying for finals, he’s had three days in a row of Decathlon practices, followed by some particularly eventful evening patrols that all went quite a bit later than his usual curfew of ten p.m.

He can’t get much of his lunch down today, which does nothing to appease his friends’ concerned looks. The food seems tasteless in his mouth and he’s so tired he nearly nods off into his cafeteria chicken nuggets.

When school finally lets out, he’s surprised and a little disheartened to see the sleek black car waiting for him in the bus circle. He’d totally forgotten it was an internship weekend.

Figures.

X

Peter groans as he disconnects the circuits he just switched out. He’s been trying to fix a bug in his suit’s heater upgrade for the last twenty minutes now, but nothing he attempts is working and his head is throbbing so much that his vision is hazy.

“Just try again, kid,” Tony encourages absently from across the workshop. He’s not looking up, fully engrossed as he is in his own project. “You got this.”

“Yeah...” Peter mutters under his breath. Blinking a few times, he rubs a hand at his eyes to try to clear his vision.

He connects a different wire. That one doesn’t yield any better results, so he unplugs it and tries again. Then again. Then again. He’s fairly sure he’s already tried the next combination, but he’s so tired he can’t remember so he does it again just to be sure. Nothing.

Peter is so frustrated now that his hands are actually shaking. He pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again.

This time, the wire sparks at him.

“I can’t do this!” Peter exclaims, shoving the suit away from him across the table. “I can’t do anything! Why am I so fucking stupid?!”

He’s breathing heavily now, tears clouding his vision even further. Within a few seconds he feels Tony’s hand rest heavily on his shoulder. It should be comforting, but it only makes Peter feel pathetic.

“C’mon, just take a deep breath and—”

“No!” Peter blurts, shaking away from Tony’s grip. “That’s not going to fix anything! I can’t fix this—don’t you see?!”

Stepping backwards, Tony holds his hands up in front of his chest, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “Okay…” he says carefully. “I think you might need a break.”

Tears prick at Peter’s eyes and he instantly regrets snapping at his mentor. “No, no, I didn’t mean that! I’m s-sorry, ’m fine…” he says. It would probably sound a lot more convincing if his breath would stop hitching.

Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no, I’m pulling rank here,” he declares. “It’s break time.”

“No!” Peter protests. His hands fumble back on the table for the wires.  “I gotta finish it! It’s so close, it’s just—” He cuts himself off as the images of the suit swim before his eyes, his head throbbing. “I, I need to finish…” he concludes lamely.

“Peter, just stop,” Tony says with an exasperated sigh. “You’re no good like this.”

Somehow, those words are the catalyst. Peter feels every emotion he’s been bottling up for the past week erupt inside of him. His breath hitches and his head pulses. “I, I know I’m not,” he manages to say, “but that’s why I gotta… gotta finish, then maybe—”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breathes out. “That’s not what I meant at all. I was just saying—”

Peter cuts him off. “No, I… I know…” Tears are sliding down Peter’s cheeks now. He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders shaking. “’M sorry.”

Tony’s eyes are a mixture of concern and confusion. “Whoa, hey, what’s going on here?” Tugging the edge of his sleeve over his thumb, Tony uses it to wipe a few of the tears off his cheeks. “Talk to me.”

Honestly, Peter doesn’t even know where to begin. The frustration of his current project, the lack of sleep, his grades, the scholarship…

“I just… I-I have a headache.”

Peter doesn’t know why he says it—the pressure in his skull doesn’t even rank very high on his list of concerns at the moment, yet the simple physicality of it somehow makes it the easiest thing to admit. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, but his vision is still so blurry. “Can’t really see straight…”

Tony’s brows knit together. “Is it a migraine?”

“N-No,” Peter says between choked sobs. “Or... I don’t know, I don’t th-think so?” Despite never having had a migraine, he’s pretty sure that’s not what this is. The pain isn’t anything exceptional—it’s just that he can’t seem to stop crying and he’s so fucking tired.

“Either way, I think you’ll feel better once you’ve got a couple painkillers in you,” Tony reasons. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted out.”

Peter shakes his head in weak protest. “No, ’s’okay... “

“Nope,” Tony says, his voice a little more firm. “Trust me on this, you don’t want to work in a lab right now. It’s bright, and loud, and honestly, you’re a bit of a safety hazard at the moment.”

To Peter’s horror, a fresh wave of emotion comes over him and he finds himself properly crying now, his frame wracking with each sob.

“Okay, okay, alright…” Tony murmurs, and Peter feels a hand awkwardly patting him on the back.

It’s all so idiotic, Peter decides, standing in Tony’s lab, crying over things that are completely his own fault and a headache that isn’t even that bad.

“You’re okay, kid,” Tony whispers. “Just breathe.”

As Peter struggles to pull himself together, he feels the hand switch to rubbing circles on his back. It moves up to the back of his neck, but halts as soon as Tony’s fingers touch Peter’s bare skin.

Tony frowns. “Do you have a fever?”

“Wh-What?” Peter’s throat is thick.

“You’re really warm,” Tony explains. He flips his hand around to press the back of his fingers to Peter’s skin, first on his neck, then on his cheek. “Yeah. FRIDAY, can we get a read on that?”

“100.7, boss,” she supplies.

Tony hums a bit. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought…”

Peter doesn’t get it. “B-But I’m not sick,” he protests. “Just—”

“Exhausted,” Tony finishes for him. “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Sniffling, Peter gives a non-committal shrug.

“Yeah, that’s not good, kid,” Tony huffs. “Take it from a guy who has a bit of experience in this area—not sleeping enough will seriously mess you up.”

With a hand on Peter’s back, Tony starts gently ushering the kid out of the lab. Peter doesn’t even bother protesting anymore as he shuffles along, his lip quivering. He figures he’s caused enough trouble today.

Tony deposits him onto the couch in the living room and Peter immediately curls up against the arm rest, squeezing his eyelids shut in an effort not to think about what a fool he’s making of himself in front of his mentor. It doesn’t help much.

“You just chill out for a minute here, okay?” Tony says quietly, draping a blanket over Peter. “I’m gonna get you some meds.”

Peter nods and Tony gives his shoulder a final squeeze before stepping out.

The second he’s alone, the tears start streaming down again, hot and silent and totally uncontrollable. If he’s not working in the lab, then he really should be studying for these stupid finals, but he can’t bring himself to pull out his flash cards. He doesn’t think he can rest—not with so much hanging over his head—but he can’t work either. Tony was right; he’s just no good right now.

When Tony reenters with painkillers and a glass of water, he doesn’t say anything about how Peter is hurriedly sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands in a pointless attempt to pull himself together. He just presses two pills into Peter’s palm.

Looking down at the painkillers in his shaking hand, Peter’s stomach twists and he’s suddenly not so sure they’ll be able to stay down. “I can’t. I feel sick,” he admits in a whisper.

With a quiet sigh, Tony perches himself on the edge of the sofa, right beside Peter’s tucked knees. “I think you’re just tired, kiddo. Sometimes that makes you feel a little sick.”

Peter doesn’t say anything so Tony passes him the glass of water. “Here. Humor me,” he says. “If I’m wrong, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

It’s a stupid joke, but the corners of Peter’s lips twitch anyway. “Okay,” he croaks.

Peter slips the pills into his mouth and swallows them down with a sip of water. He’s queasy, but it’s not too bad. He goes to set the cup back down on the coffee table, but his mentor shakes his head.

“Drink the whole thing,” Tony instructs.

Peter obeys. It takes him a couple of minutes, but he manages to get the entire cup down and feels just the smallest bit better for it.

Tony takes the empty glass from his hand and sets it on the table. “Think you can sleep now?”

Peter just shrugs. He wants to—god, he wants to—but he doesn’t deserve it. Not when this is all his own damn fault. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again:

“I think I really messed up, Mr. Stark.”

X

Over the next ten minutes, it all comes tumbling out: the job at Delmar’s, the decathlon requirements, the late patrols, his slipping grades, his scholarship, everything.

“I just… I don’t want to change schools,” Peter concludes softly. “I like Midtown. It was the first place I really felt like… well, like I fit in.”

Tony’s been quiet for the whole time Peter was speaking, but now his brow furrows. “Why would you need to quit Midtown?”

Peter blinks at him; isn’t it obvious? “Because the full tuition is eight thousand dollars a semester. Without the scholarship…” he trails off. “I just can’t do that to May.”

A look of relief spreads across Tony’s face. “Is that all? That’s the whole issue?” He huffs out an amused breath. “Done. Consider it paid. Problem solved.”

Peter feels his cheeks flush. He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, I didn’t mean that you should pay! Please don’t do that!”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to blink at him. “Peter. I am a multi-billionaire. Do you have any idea what eight thousand dollars is to me?”

“But you shouldn’t have t—”

“Peanuts,” Tony cuts him off. “I’ve spent more on peanuts than that.”

“But—”

“And by that I mean actual, honest-to-god peanuts,” Tony continues over the kid’s protests. “There’s this company in Peru that slow-roasts them for twenty-one days in a secret spice blend. Happy’s obsessed with ‘em—says they’re god’s gift to mankind. So, for Christmas one year—”

“You can’t pay my tuition!” Peter blurts out.

Tony stops his story abruptly. His eyes narrow at Peter. “And why exactly is that?”

“Because…” Running a hand through his hair, Peter draws in a shuddery breath. “Because… If anyone should pay, it’s me. I-I’m the one who fucked up and lost the stupid scholarship. I should be the one responsible for fixing this.”

“But you can’t fix it,” Tony says bluntly.

Peter’s caught off-guard. “Wh-What? N-No, I just need to get my grades up, and, and…”

Tony’s voice is gentler now. “You can’t, Peter. You can’t get a 2.9 up to a 3.3 by next week, no matter how well you do on your exams. You’ve gotta know that.”

(Peter does know. He’s known for days. He’s always been good at math, after all.)

“So you can’t keep going on like this, trying to make up for what happened,” Tony concludes.

Tears prick at the corners of Peter’s eyes once more. He’s determined not to let them fall this time. “But I deserve it…” he whispers.

Tony shrugs. “If we always got what we deserved, I never would have made it through the 90s.” He huffs out a short laugh. “At least nobody has to bail you out of prison. Same can’t be said for all of us.”

In spite of Peter’s earlier resolve, the traitorous tears slip out anyway. He wonders how he has any left.

Tony sobers a bit. “You’re a good kid, Pete,” he says quietly. “But you’re trying to carry the whole world on your shoulders and that’s enough to break anyone. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. Even if you fucked up.”

Peter swallows hard. “Okay.”

“So let’s try this again,” Tony says. He makes eye contact with Peter. “What do you need, kid?”

“Right now?” Peter exhales deeply. “I dunno. A nap?”

Tony smirks slightly. “I think we can manage that.”

X

Peter makes it through finals.

All his extra effort and studying does yield some results. His gym grade increases to a B after Coach Wilson grades his two-page extra credit report on the rules of badminton. The trig final is rough, but he pulls in another couple points there, and the art teacher accepts a few late sketches from the unit on perspectivism. With the help of the final exam, he even manages to eek out a C- in Spanish.

When it’s all said and done, Peter’s GPA sits at 3.1.

“That wasn’t easy to do. I’m proud of you, Peter,” May says sincerely. “You know that, right?”

Peter shrugs. “I guess so.”

They’re sitting together at the apartment’s small kitchen table, May’s open laptop in front of them with all of Peter’s end of semester grades displayed. Peter’s eyes drift down from the screen to the table where a check for eight thousand dollars signed by Tony Stark himself is staring back at him. He sighs.

May plants a quick kiss on the top of her nephew’s head. “Well, I know so. So for now, I’ll just know it for the both of us.”

Peter strokes his fingers over the crisp paper of the check. Besides covering tuition, Tony has now upgraded Peter’s unofficial SI internship to a paid position—something he says he should have done long ago, given how much time Peter spends working in the lab—and that will allow him to give Mr. Delmar his two-week notice.

He knows he should be grateful, but honestly, it’s going to take him some time to wrap his head around the concept of being taken care of like this.

Getting up from the table, May moves over to retrieve a small paper bag from the counter. “That reminds me—Mr. Stark told me to give you this.” She tosses the bag to Peter, who catches it easily.

Curiously, he opens it. He’s immediately hit with the aroma of exotic spices and roasted legumes. Peter can’t help but grin.

A note inside the bag reads: Enjoy your peanuts, kid.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: 

Viral Wisdom

Go Down Swinging

A Pressing Emergency

Fic Masterlist

[lorei-writes]

Modern AU headcanons

Part 1 - Ieyasu, Hideyoshi, Mitsunari

I won’t include Masamune this time, because I pretty much covered him in “Had it happened in the future” (here  and here).

General setting info: I don’t have any particular country in mind, but let’s say that they have somewhat functioning public healthcare system, public education system (which is more or less free, minus costs of buying the textbooks, renting a room and so on while studying at university), public transportation exists (but isn’t really perfect and is almost non-existent outside of the major cities; the transportation between the towns and cities is a thing, it’s only that most villages and small towns are out of luck - and same goes for city outskirts). Most people don’t own a gun and it’s actually pretty hard to get one. The climate change isn’t bad yet, but it’s getting there. (I’m form Europe, so yeah, those are the things I’m familiar with).

Ieyasu: 

He and Masamune had known each other since kindergarten, but they only became friends in primary school. 

He got to know Mitsunari at uni. Then, Mitsunari introduced him to Hideyoshi, Nobunaga and Mitsuhide (Masamune met them all through Ieyasu).

Ieyasu’s parents were very strict. He never could measure up to their ridiculously high standards and thus was never considered “good enough”. Consequently, he didn’t like to show any sort of vulnerability. 

Ieyasu would be studying to become a veterinarian. 

Even though he wasn’t one yet, he’d definitely nurtured some animals back to health. He’d volunteered at animal shelters and had donated money to foundations protecting wildlife. 

Ieyasu would be vegetarian. 

He was more attached to all the animals he had saved than he’d like to admit. Ieyasu would definitely lecture Masamune on cat nutrition and then introduce him to BARF. If anything happened to Shogetsu, he’d bring the hell upon the Earth. 

He’d oftentimes overwork himself, in hopes of bettering lives of more animals. 

Hideyoshi: 

He had already finished his studies and was a social worker. 

Hideyoshi would work mostly with youth - he’d help the abused and traumatised children, he’d help them with school issues, he’d assist parents in acquiring financial support for their offspring, etc. 

Basically, he had awakened his internal Mamayoshi. 

He’d be easily agitated by any sort of injustice and as such would be one of those people with a cupboard full of various teas that “help to ease the nerves” (Lemon balm? Lemon balm tea with added orange peel? Lemon balm tea with added raspberry extract?You name it, he has it). 

He’d met Nobunaga back at high school. Initially, he was his rival, but they soon became friends and supported each other. 

Hideyoshi would use infographics all the time. Why even bother arguing and scolding his friends, if he could just send them the image? They would have known them by heart.

He smoked for a couple of years, but once he learnt how harmful it was, he quit. However, he chews ungodly amounts of gum. 

He was orphaned as a child. He was adopted once, yet they returned him to the orphanage. 

Hideyoshi would try to live as healthily as possible. He’d also be really good at managing finances. 

Mitsunari:

He had almost finished his studies.

He would become a history teacher. He was particularly good at describing battle strategies and would be really passionate about sharing the knowledge with his students. 

He would still take everything literally and as such, people would sometimes try to exploit him. To their surprise, for some reason it would never turn out well for them.

He’d consume too much coffee and would never notice it. 

Mitsunari would spend too much time at the library. He’d also own a kindle.  

His ophthalmologist would beg him to take better care of his eyes.

 Mitsunari would be banned from wearing contact lenses because he did have a tendency to fall asleep while still sitting at his desk. 

He actually didn’t consider himself to be smart. Hideyoshi had supported him back in school, though, and that’s when he realised he had potential.

I was thinking that part two would maaybe include Nobunaga, Mitsuhide and maaybe Kenshin-Shingen combo?

[mediaeval-muse]

I’m feeling angsty about the academic job market and the responses of people around me, so I’m listing some of the most common attempts at “consolation” I’m getting and articulating why they aren’t helpful, in case anyone else finds it useful.

I’ve been on the academic job market for 2 years and have gotten zero requests for an interview. It’s bad.

The people in my life are trying to be helpful, and I really do appreciate it, but so much of it comes from a place of ignorance. So here’s a list of things people have said to me and why it’s not necessarily helping.

“You’ll find something.”

Whether this is intended to mean “eventually someone will call you” or “eventually you’ll get any job,” both are nebulous and have the vibe of “everything will be fine.” The problem is I don’t just want to find something. I know, rationally, that I can get a job in a host of different fields outside academia; the problem is rather that I spent 8 years training for a job I desperately wanted and can’t have - not because I’m unqualified, but because higher education decided to shift to a model that devalues the humanities. So, yes, I’ll find something, but right now, it feels as though I’ve tried to do something and failed. When you feel like a failure, “everything will be alright” kind of dismisses the significance of the negative emotions I’m having now.

And yes, the feeling of being mad because I can’t get what I want does come from a place of privilege. I get that. But the problem isn’t necessarily that I can’t have something and I’m throwing a tantrum. It’s that I set a goal for myself and found happiness/purpose/meaning in something I was doing, and now, I have to leave that behind not because of something I did, but of how academia’s hiring models have changed. I think of it as kind of being related to millennial upbringing: millennial are a generation that were told to find meaning in your job, that you could do anything if you worked hard enough. Some of us are feeling betrayed when we work really hard and the opportunities aren’t there.

“You can get a job in alt-ac.”

A variation on the above statement. At the moment, I’m salty because I don’t want a job in alt-ac. Not that alt-ac jobs are less valuable or unimportant; they just aren’t what I personally set out to do. Again, the problem isn’t that I’m afraid I won’t get a job, it’s the feeling of personal failure and the existential angst associated with not being able to do the thing that I found purpose in. I think I’m allowed to have sad feelings because of that.

“Why not teach online classes or adjunct until a tenure-track job rolls around?”

You can’t just walk in and teach a class anywhere. The hiring crisis is not just at the tenure level; because there are so few TT spots, people are flooding the adjunct market and online teaching market.

Plus, there’s the issue of stability and finances. Adjuncts make an average of $2,500 per class they teach, and their employment is often determined on a semester-by-semester basis. That means meager salaries and unstable employment. Not to mention that adjuncts have to teach upwards of 5+ classes per semester and some colleges don’t offer full benefits to adjuncts. That’s a lot of work and takes a toll on mental health. Not everyone can handle that stress and it doesn’t make someone a “weak” or “non-dedicated” person if they choose not to do that.

“You can teach grade school!”

First, not everyone is cut out to work with children. Or angry parents, for that matter. Second, you have to take more classes and get certified to teach in the USA (if you want to go to public schools. I think private schools are a bit more lenient). That means paying more money. While that’s fine if someone wants to do it, realize that it’s not for everyone. Third, states have rules as to what you can teach, what you must teach, etc. For some, rules might be stifling. College teaching is way different than teaching K-12.

“Academia sucks anyway. Many people have left.”

People’s experiences of academia vary greatly. Mine has been mostly positive. You can’t tell people how to feel about academia. Also, many people who leave do so by choice. Being forced out by lack of opportunity is a different thing.

“It’s just a bad year. You’ll get something eventually.”

First of all, it’s been a bad decade, and the hiring freezes have only gotten worse. Second of all, while I’m waiting for an academic job, I need money to live, so I’ll have to leave academia anyway just to pay my bills. Third, if the market does bounce back, the danger is that people who have been outside academia for so long will look “stale.” Job ads are now putting limits such as “PhD must be acquired between 2-4 years ago” on their qualifications. I know this language is meant to give new academics a chance, but it excludes people who have been on the market for a while or people who had a temporary position after graduating.

“Most people don’t have jobs in the field they have a degree in anyway.”

That’s true, but people who say this to me are usually referring to BAs or BSs. A BA takes an average of 4-5 years to complete. I’ve done a BA plus 8 years of graduate work. So I’ve invested a lot more time in this degree, and it feels wasteful to not do anything with it. Also, I like my field. Why would I not want to do something with it?

“People move for jobs all the time.”

This was said in response to me having to move back to Wisconsin when I’m done with my degree and I expressed sadness at having to leave my entire social circle/immediate friend group. Yeah, people move for jobs all the time. But I’m not moving for a job. I’m moving for lack of a job. When people move for jobs, the prospect of new opportunity is exciting, and positive emotions surround the move. For me, I’m moving because I failed to get a job, so there’s a lot of negative emotion. Having to leave friends only compounds the negativity.

“The people who get jobs put in the work, so they deserve them.”

This was said to me after I expressed the thought “I feel like in order to get an interview these days, you need to be a celebrity grad student, have a zillion publications, and even more awards and fellowships.” Here’s the problem: yes, maybe those people deserve it. I’m not saying people with a lot of resources or publications aren’t doing good work. But it really says something when there’s a shortage of resources and one person keeps getting them over and over again, and that leads to a job. Let’s face it, anyone who is putting in genuine effort and passion into their academic work deserves recognition. Grad students today are the most qualified generation of scholars in history - we all deserve jobs based on merit. But academia isn’t a meritocracy - a lot of what resources are thrown at you depends on what school you’re at and who your adviser is.

“You can just research/publish in your spare time to build up a more attractive portfolio.”

Ok, so... you want me to work for free? Without university employment, I’m not getting compensated for the things I publish. Also, without university employment, I don’t have access to an academic library (unless I pay for it myself, which some colleges let people do). If I have a non-academic job, I’ll be working 40+ hours a week, and you want me to do more (uncompensated) work on top of that? If you want to do it, that’s fine, but the reality is that it is uncompensated work. And not everyone can afford to do that.

“If you just revise your CV and cover letter to look like this...”

The problem isn’t the quality of my job application. It’s the fact that there are. no. jobs.

“That’s life. Welcome to adulthood.”

If something is unfair, the impulse should be to try to make it more fair, not just to accept things the way they are.

Things that would be way more helpful:

“I’m sorry. This isn’t fair.”

“How can I support you?” (Then actually do it)

“Are you interested in exploring other employment avenues? I can help you, if you want, or I can be a listening ear if you just want to be mad right now.”

“You have value independent of your work.”

If you’re TT: actually do things in your department to make it better

If you’re non-TT faculty: join a union and push for better treatment of adjuncts and specialized faculty

If you’re outside academia: vote for politicians who value education (not like Betsy DeVos) and make noise about valuing teachers

If you’re a parent with a kid going to college: pester your university admin about their hiring practices, spending habits, and supporting humanities education

[amphtaminedreams]

We Voted for Murderers

65.2%.

That’s the percentage of people who voted for the Conservative candidate in my constituency, and I feel completely heartbroken. See, things have properly gone to shit. 

If we’re talking numbers?

Local councils estimate the number of people sleeping rough on any given night between 2010 and 2018 has risen from 1,768 to 4,677, a 165% increase. The Trussell Trust, the UK’s largest food bank charity, has reported a 5,146% increase in emergency food parcels being distributed since 2008. An 8% cut in spending per school pupil since 2009. Funding from central government to local government cut by 60% in that same period. £37 billion less spent on working-age social security compared to over a decade ago by 2020. A 90% fall in the number of social homes being built since 2010. A £7,300,000 decrease in funding for women’s shelters between 2011 and 2017. Don’t even get me started on the government’s treatment of the NHS.

I’ve heard stories of individuals applying for PIP due to mental illness being berated about suicide attempts and the likelihood of another as part of a “formal interview” process to see whether they qualify. People collapsing in job centre queues, freezing to death on the streets and the elderly in their homes, suicides whilst on never ending mental healthcare waiting lists. In fact, 17,000 sick and/or disabled individuals have died whilst waiting for PIP payments to come through, and in total, UCL researchers have linked 120,000 deaths to austerity (I’m not going to comment on the irony of my former university that’s notoriously lacklustre when it comes to giving a fuck about the wellbeing of its students publishing this unless...I just did?). 8 years of negligent homicide of the most vulnerable people in our society under the Conservative government and we voted them back in.

So I ask, are people really stupid enough to believe that the politicians responsible for this mess are the ones who are going to fix it just because they make a few characteristically empty promises on TV or does the British public at large really give even less of a fuck about other people than I thought? As in actually not give a fuck about people dying?

I have to tell myself it’s the former. The press’ treatment of Jeremy Corbyn and Labour was scathing. 

Corbyn, a man who has stood by the same principles of fairness, justice, and equality, for the entirety of his career, was criticised by the likes of The Sun, The Daily Mail, and The Telegraph, for being indecisive and a threat to this country whilst Boris Johnson, a man who can barely string a sentence together when he is asked to give a straight answer to something and blocked the release of a report covering Russian interference in British politics, was held up as the one people should put their faith in. 

I know, the press are never going to be completely neutral. But shouldn’t they at least be committed to integrity? And the truth? Isn’t that the WHOLE FUCKING POINT of journalism? I’ve been hearing the phrase “post-truth world” thrown around a lot and it’s probably an indication of my privilege that it was only with this election that I properly understood what that meant; it was found by the NGO First Draft just 2 days before the election, damage way past the point of done, that 88% of the Conservative Party’s Facebook ads (compared to 0% of Labour’s ads) contained misleading information. The repercussions were non-existent. After Boris Johnson’s claim that Jeremy Corbyn wanted to raise corporation and income tax to the highest levels in Europe was publicised, only Channel 4′s Factcheck website published the actual statistics (France, Belgium, Portugal and Greece all have much higher corporation tax rates than Labour’s proposal). Similarly, in many constituencies, the Lib Dems were posting fliers where Labour candidates were, in the previous election, the runner ups to the Conservative candidate, claiming that it was instead THEIR party’s candidate who had the highest chance of unseating the latter. Days before the election, the headline of one of Britain’s most highly circulated papers claimed that a Corbyn government would plunge us into a crisis the likes of which “we haven’t seen the Second World War”, which is kind of wild considering that 130,000 preventable deaths have been linked to austerity under the Conservative government compared to 70,000 civilian deaths in said war. Not that either is good, obviously, and I can’t believe I have to point that out. But then, right-wingers did paint Jeremy Corbyn as a monster for passing up watching the Queen’s Christmas Day speech to volunteer at a homeless shelter, so I thought I’d just cover my back, y’know. 

Shouldn’t there be standards that the media is held to? You know, like not making slanderous statements about some politicians that have no actual basis in fact whilst brushing over the statements of others. Whilst the PM’s father Stanley Johnson was on nation television calling the public illiterate, and Jacob Rees-Mogg was blaming the Grenfell victims deaths on their “lack of common sense”, and Michael Gove was stating that people who needed to use food banks had brought it on themselves because they were not “best able to manage their finances”, it was Jeremy Corbyn who was being called an enemy of the people, accused of trying to plunge us into a “Marxist hell”...I mean, if Denmark and Norway and Finland with some of the highest living standards in the world are “Marxist hell”s  then sure, that’s what he’s doing. But that’s a hell I’m sure a lot of people would find much comfier than a freezing cold pavement. Before Labour had even released their (fully-costed!) manifesto, barefaced lies were being published about how much it would cost and how it would plunge us into trillions of pounds worth of debt, as if it hasn’t increased from £1 trillion to £1.8 trillion in the years since David Cameron took office. Meanwhile, when Labour did publish their manifesto and the Financial Times published a letter signed by 163 prominent economists and academics backing their spending plans? Crickets. Nothing sums it up better than the debate around Jeremy Corbyn’s alleged anti-semitism, discussed ad-nauseam whilst Boris Johnson’s actual racism, islamophobia, misogyny and classism, RIGHT OUT OF THE HORSE’S MOUTH, was completely ignored by most news outlets. 

You know what, maybe people earning £85k just DON’T want to pay an extra £3 in tax a week to make sure children get an education. Maybe everybody IS just as selfish as that one twat on Question Time who got all red in the face over the prospect of having to give up an amount less than the cost of a tub of Ben and Jerrys a week. But if that’s true, this isn’t a country I want to live in at all, or a planet I want to live on, really. I hope it’s not. I hope it’s a case of a need for some kind of collective realisation that the Sun ain’t shit. Merseyside did it. The younger generation are catching on. And look at the results there.

Labour probably couldn’t fulfil ALL of their promises. No political party is perfect. I was told again and again how unrealistic those promises were as if that was enough to make me go ”oh...I guess I’ll vote for 4 more years of people dying in the streets instead”. Yes, in an ideal world, the entire manifesto would be made a reality, but it depended on far too many rich people being good and honest. Let’s be real-the elite will always find a way to avoid paying their fare share on the premise that they “earned it”, as if anybody earns billions by sheer hard work alone and past a certain point, not off other people’s backs. As if there aren’t nurses and teachers and firemen and other public sector workers who don’t put in just as much energy and as many hours and emotional labour as CEOs and business owners and investors. But the point is that Labour under Jeremy Corbyn acknowledged this, and their manifesto aimed to give the power back to the average person, from the vulnerable to the supposedly middle class still struggling to make ends meet, and give them the quality of life they deserve. It was built on the simple premise that the people should use their government, not the other way round, and that everybody deserves the basic human rights of shelter, nutrition, safety and dignity, regardless of their fortune in life. However many of Labour’s policies would actually have been fulfilled, it would’ve been a shift in the right direction. 

Now the election’s been and gone and I’m scared. Already, the narrative is being rewritten by the billionaires in control of this country that a manifesto like the one we saw this year will never sit right with this country, when it is what so many desperately need. The people putting this information out there know the truth: that Labour’s membership trebled in size under Corbyn (more people voted for him than for any Labour leader since Tony Blair), that most of the safe labour seats were lost because of Brexit, and that if the manifesto had been represented accurately, there’s a good chance that Boris Johnson would no longer be our Prime Minister. I’m scared a person like Jeremy Corbyn will never front Labour again. 

Because I do not want a tory painted red who’s friends with Jacob Rees-Mogg behind the scenes, I do not want a war criminal who thinks that bombing innocent people is ever acceptable, I do not want a person who doesn’t see people of colour as part of the working class and indulges in the occasional bit of TERF-ism.

Already, the Conservative party are backpedaling on the few promises they made to increase NHS spending, and I am scared. I am scared for myself, in the event that I need urgent mental health care again, and I am scared for those less privileged than me who don’t have a family to support them, who don't have a roof over their head, who weren’t fortunate enough to be born in a country with relative economic and political stability, who cannot physically go out and work to earn a living. I am worried about the bigots that this election has already emboldened, the Katie Hopkins and the Tommy Robinsons of the world, who think the things that blind luck have graced them with they somehow earned, who pride themselves on ignorance and cruelty and selfishness.

So for now, what can we do? 

Join trade unions. Organise. Write to your MPs. Bring attention to those who are vulnerable. Be vocal with your criticism of the establishment. Call out those in politics for an ego-trip hiding behind “personality”. Do your research. Keep an eye on the numbers. The “it doesn’t matter who you vote for, just vote” sentiment is old, because it does. No “as a feminist, I exercise my right to vote for whoever I want”, because as a feminist, you should care about ALL women, not just the white, middle class, able-bodied ones. 

And if anyone has any more suggestions, let me know. Because I am sick and tired of living under a government who doesn’t give a fuck about the people it’s supposed to protect.

Lauren x

[DISCLAIMER: The photo is not mine. Just devastated and trying to find the words to express it.]

[ourbrand]

My Personal Brand Identity Hannah Akerly

What is Personal Branding to Me?

Your personal brand and identity define who you are as an individual, it’s what makes you unique and special. College and the path you choose to pursue can truly define who you will be once those 4 years are over. When I first started applying to schools, I had no idea what path I was going to take. I took on Communication as a major because I knew I loved writing, I was good at it, and I thought it was a broad enough field that I would hopefully find a passion to pursue within it. I never knew that path I took would give me all the experiences I am so grateful for and the new skills it has brought me as well. My personal brand is those unique skills, experiences and personality traits that college has shaped me into and brought out in me that the media world should and will look out for. My story for how I became who I am, how I developed my brand and identity starts when I first arrived on campus. 

Finding my Concentration

I first started out as a media entertainment focus major but I knew something about that field wasn’t quite right for me. I had a creative mind where I was constantly thinking, developing and creating. I have a talent for art and design and I wanted to harness that skill and mold into something more. Growing up I knew I always wanted to pursue something creative and make work that other people and the world would love. Finally, halfway through my freshman year I met with my advisor and I made the bold decision to switch my focus to creative advertising. I knew it would be the perfect fit and to top it off I added a graphic design minor to develop and strengthen my design skills. I figured the combination would be extremely complimentary and would allow me to explore and achieve great things in my field. Choosing to become an advertising focus student and have a graphic design minor was the best decision I ever made. Through the four years at Lasell University I discovered the power strong advertising can have on the world and I am truly passionate about the work I create for companies and brands alike. Furthermore, I truly found a niche skill in graphic design work. For me at least, it’s something I never thought I would pursue, let alone be a professional at and sought after for guidance. This was the path I chose to pursue, and I knew it was right for me the minute I sat down in my first advertising class all those years ago. 

My Experience

Yes, I was scared and yes, I had moments of doubt that I could ever succeed in a field where your only job is to always be creating and developing, but then my professor told me that there is never a bad idea, there are only ideas that can be crafted and molded into something more powerful and intriguing. It all starts with an idea and it grows from there. My very first advertising class was my sophomore year and I was so nervous, but sitting there it felt right. We had a project where we had to develop a campaign for a brand and my group was assigned the cereal brand Special K. *see images 1-4 below*.  I never had more fun and felt more creative freedom than in that assignment compared to any other assignment before. Our ideas were constantly bouncing off each other and growing into something bigger and better. We turned the brand Special K into something no one expected and everyone thought it was genius. It was once known as a cereal made only for women only but we decided to expand its market and advertise it for everyone and anyone. It was a revolutionary idea and we were truly proud of the work we created and how hard we worked so tirelessly on developing it. 

I had many more assignments such as my first one. I had to redesign brands such as Lush *see images 5-8 below* and even deconstruct brand identities. Throughout my years at Lasell I had extensive training in breaking down the methodology behind campaigns and why brands market them in the way that they do. It’s like solving a riddle, breaking down every little detail and strategy of a brand is very alluring. After learning how to break down a campaign strategy and analyze a target market, I can now successfully engage them into the professional world. 

My Professional Experience

In my time at Lasell I was successfully hired at two social media and marketing based internships. Those internships were both extremely different but both prepared me for what is to come after graduation. I learned that I was hired not only for my social media and marketing skills but also my strong graphic design background. At those internships I was able to create content for two very different types of industries. One internship was for an industrial manufacturing company while the other was finance, but both were very crucial in the development of my personal brand identity. During my internships I worked in client relations, researched social media strategies to gain followers and engagement, created design work for each companies’ social platforms and also used a web designer to develop and transform their websites into something greater than they were before. All the work I did for these two companies allowed me to gain personal brand awareness and how to work within two differing demographics to understand their needs and wants. I also learned that to succeed in the marketing industry you have to be able to adapt quickly and learn how to immerse yourself into a brand identity in order to successfully create campaigns and content that will successfully reach the desired demographic along with growing the brand as a whole. I never thought I would work in the fields that I did, but I found it a privilege as they helped me gain experience and knowledge that will place me above others that I may be competing for a job with in the future. I am able to say that I’ve worked in fields that don’t necessarily involve an agency but instead I worked in house and created content for not only a business to business company but also a business to consumer company. That is something not many graduates are able to say they did at our age and that makes me a few steps and skills ahead of them. 

What Makes Up my Personal Brand Identity

I found that after my four years at Lasell University I grew not only as a creative advertising focus and a graphic designer but also as a person. I grew to stand up for myself and really chase what I desire. I gained confidence as a designer and learned where my niche skill set lies. Classes such as effective speaking, media ethics, professional communication, media literacy and all of my advertising and graphic design classes have prepared me for what is to come. Yet, I’m sure you’re asking yourself what is it that makes me unique and makes up my personal brand identity? Well it’s my desire to succeed, my professional identity, my creativity and work ethic to create bigger and better things that make me who I am. I have changed so much since first coming to the University’s campus and I have learned that public speaking isn’t so scary that I can effectively share my ideas and campaign projects to a future agency or a client. My advertising classes have taught me not only the basics of the world I am soon to be immersed into but also the importance of understanding who it is you are trying to market to. Lasell has also taught me how to put myself into the mindset of others and understanding what they are thinking, feeling and wanting. As a new graduate this is key in becoming successful in a field such as mine. Then to compliment that skill is the ability to relay specific information in a creative way that the world and consumers will be engaged in along with getting consumers to talk about the company or product. This is one of my strongest skills. Creating work that gets people talking, and the spreading of brand identity through word is the most powerful and effective type of advertising. With my graphic design skills that I have mastered over the last four years, I can enter the industry confident knowing I can create persuasive and engaging work that will leave a lasting and successful impression on the consumer and bring positivity back to the brand. 

Having a liberal arts education has made me a well-rounded individual with skills in different types of fields. A strength that I am most proud of is my writing skills. Working with the school newspaper, it has taught me the importance of meeting deadlines, how to tell a persuasive and engaging story and how to work more efficiently and collaboratively, which has led me to be a powerful writer and storyteller adding even more uniqueness to my brand identity. So, I have the design skills, I have the marketing skills and I also have the professional skills to succeed in the media world. Yet, there is one more skill I have not yet discussed that is key in my brand identity and that is my media literacy skills. Understanding the media world from all different perspectives is crucial in not only being a successful marketer and designer, but also being relatable to the media consumers. Consumers love something or someone they can relate to in the media industry. I understand the media world from a journalism perspective, an entertainment media perspective and a public relations perspective. I have experience in all forms of media and I use those skills in my work. All that I have learned through my internships and classes at Lasell along with my skills makes up my personal brand identity. 

I have also attached below graphic design work done for classes and my internships. Such as infographics, invitations and social media posts.