#i’m an excellent candidate for grad school | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

breakersmansh · 1 year ago

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It was a rough week, so I’m just recovering/ stabilizing. I’m doing a great job persevering through a difficult fall and the idea that I’m sustaining a respectable performance in a grueling graduate school semester even while facing severe housing insecurity just shows how much I’ve grown, progressed, and developed as an adult.

I just dug an Excel sheet out from my inbox from 2020. It’s a database of Dave Matthews songs, concerts, and performance variations, with statistics like song length, etc. My professor helped me make it for me from DMBalmanac.com in my very first computer programming class back during that year. It all seemed so overwhelming to me at the time, and it’s wild how now it all makes so much more sense to me. I’ll be using it for my final project in a class about advanced Linux/ Ubuntu coding and also discussing it in my reflective portfolio class.

It’s a little interesting to try to reflect on all the knowledge and experiences I’ve had so far in life and try to synthesize that into wisdom about how to move forward making meaning in my professional life. We forget that the vast majority of people do not get this much formal education and do not need, want to, or have to put so much formal thought into what they’re willing to do in exchange for money.

This is basically my first official stab at the first draft of the portfolio paper due next Friday. I have a lot of demonstrated interests in projects that discuss preppiness over the course of my graduate career. There might be a better or alternative word for it, but almost every one of my grad school projects has been related to or discussing nodes of interest adjacent to preppy culture. I have two projects about Dave Matthews Band, a project about The Official Preppy Handbook, an internship about Southern Studies/ southern identity, a project about Taylor Swift and recession pop, and a project about TikTok influencers. A published article about ChatGPT, postmodernism, and epistemology, two technical articles about Big Data for higher education, a GitHub about the competitive programming world, a failed experiment in quantitative finance professional certification. Jobs as a data engineer on AirBNB, cybersecurity/ Silicon Valley, and social justice work. And then maybe a few other projects that I can’t remember as well right now.

Plus, core memories of sitting with a hot Baltimore private school guy at the dinner table on my birthday during my first year of grad school, making the professor so jealous that he paused the lecture to comment on my social life, my relationships with two gay men who took erotic pleasure in yelling at me and mocking me when they saw me trapped in a mental hospital years later, with a woman who saved my skin this morning when she let me borrow $500, with Colin, who would probably be both annoyed and intrigued if he saw a full presentation and context of where he fits into my broader social life and has a lot of thoughts about both the preppy and poor white trash dichotomy, and with Austin, who is like Colin but ten years younger. And with Dustin, and with Massachusetts Nick, the Congressional candidate, and with the British guy, and with Chris the porn star, with the classy Salt Lake City guy who stimulated my sexual imagination, with the woman in Idaho who wanted to have a threesome, with more women at Syracuse, with can’t forget the perfectly normal Rhode Island guy who had a beautiful hockey and Harry Styles date with me last fall and who was one of the most objectively caring people when I was trapped in the hospital this summer, and with various OnlyFans stars.

Colin was one thing that stuck out in this list, and I had this idea to reread or re-watch Hillbilly Elegy by JD Vance and use that as a segue to comment on, explore, find closure about everything Colin and I really have to argue about—preppiness, the white working class, and the dichotomies and pressures between the need for money to survive in capitalism and the importance of looking beyond money to appreciate other things like art and social justice. The fact that I could write an entire book or PhD dissertation if I wanted about what Colin and my ended friendship means to me is pretty cool. And I think I should.

I remember from my 2020 internship that there was sort of this dichotomy between Southern Studies and Appalachian Studies, where Appalachia has more to do with poverty and whiteness. And what does that have to do with place in terms of Colin and my relationship to New England, and then my experience of having the most postmodern experience ever in Los Angeles (cf. Edward Soja and Frederic Jameson’s comments on LA) right at the crux of trying to finish my masters degree. And one could throw in my application to a French university job today, fulfilling a childhood dream, and my work on other themes: sex worker justice, Silicon Valley, and whatever you would call the Computational Law Review and my Word document data structures project.

I learned about security clearances, too, interviewed with a major Big Law firm, experienced the digital nomad lifestyle and the present day iteration of intentional communities/ DAOs. Bought my first voluntary bitcoin. Watched my best friend from Georgetown become second in line next to Sam Bankman-Fried.

When I talked about sex worker justice, I was thinking about helping Chris with $50, not about helping Colin with $4,000. He’s not a sex worker, he’s my best friend. Alex Christman is a trans woman ten years later after she complained to me that she was straight and her entire school year of flirting with me never happened, so what Colin can be ten years from now will be entirely up to him, including exactly the same person as he is now. I haven’t thought about Wings Over in a while. I’m probably going to send Chris the $25 he asked for. I like the sex worker’s comments about the nature of work, and I realized when she asked me to introduce her to a sexologist, I can basically introduce her to my life coach from this spring, whose response to Colin was to ask me to think about the erotics of how money changes hands, thinking about making sure my therapists are aware of race and class, and thinking about what it means to try to pursue someone who is not available. I had only thought about her implication that Colin is not available, but I just remembered the whole statement I made "I am not available for these kinds of friendships" that is probably one of the main things Colin will remember about me.

Other things: swishing soft dicks and being tender with Marcus Law, telling Adam Snyder to have a tender Halloween night, Passover and Easter with Jaydan Armour, oh and how could I forget the world’s coolest 18 year old and Tom Holland’s biggest fan, as well as Braden Herrmann whom I will always love very dearly.

My therapist challenged me to come to understand "who is Eoin?" Maybe the Hillbilly Elegy project could be a way to understand how to explain to others why I love this Boston Irish guy so much.

I’m going to ask Gabe if he’s head about Hillbilly Elegy. He’s in Kentucky right now. We only have ever had the faintest, softest hint of flirting. I wouldn’t want him to cheat on his girlfriend.

It’s 2 am when I’m writing this. Smoking marijuana, drinking alcohol, enjoying the beautiful SoCal starlight, and reflecting on the sentimental qualities of life. Just like a Deep Springs College faculty member—in spite of everything.

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

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long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It��s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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nevermindirah · 3 years ago

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Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

#nile freeman #nile's family #dorothy freeman #tog headcanons #tog meta #mine #long post

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cancerbiophd · 4 years ago

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Hey! I’m sure this is a question you get asked a lot but how did you decide that a PhD was for you? I’m about to enter the last year of my undergrad and have really enjoyed the lab work I’ve done previously but it feels like a rather large commitment when I’m not 100% sure I’m going to end up in research at the end of it. I was just wondering how you knew it was what you wanted to do!

Hello!

I actually have never been asked that question before, which was surprising for me too. I get a lot of “how did you know lab research was right for you”, but never specifically about how I knew a PhD was right for me (or maybe I did and I just didn’t answer it well), so I’m really glad you asked!

As you said, it really does come down to answering yes to both these statements:

The career path I want is best accomplished with a PhD

I am willing to commit to the challenging journey of 5-6 years of grad school (+1-3 years of being a post-doc, if applicable to your field)

So here are the reasons how I knew getting a PhD was the best past for me:

I loved research. And I loved research beyond just doing benchwork--I loved the brainstorming, the experimental design, the analyzing of results, the troubleshooting of the unexpected, the dissecting of both broad and fine details as you solve a puzzle, the moment when you realize you just discovered something no one else has ever seen before, and communicating those exciting results. I was infatuated. When I was working as a lab tech in a cancer research lab after undergrad there were nights where I couldn’t sleep because my brain just would not stop brainstorming new ideas and questions about my research. I told that to a current grad student in the lab at the time and he was like “You know what that means? You have the mind of a grad student.”

And I wanted to broaden my skillsets. I could do a few techniques really well, but I really wanted to learn more, and I also wanted to learn more about those techniques--why do this, and not an alternative? What would happen if we tried this? I wanted to explore more.

Going off of that, I wanted to keep learning. And not just looking up wikipedia articles by myself; I wanted formal training (because I had no idea what I needed to learn). And I’ve always been good at learning in a classroom setting so I knew I would excel at that part in grad school.

It would lead me to the career path I wanted, which was to work at a biotech company as a leader of a research team and then become a consultant. True, a PhD is not required for that in many cases, but a PhD would better prepare me for those roles

I enjoyed writing and orally communicating about my research. PhD’s do metric ton of writing (grants, papers, reports, etc) and oral presentations (conferences, meetings, collaborations, etc). And I really enjoyed (and was good at) all that.

I wanted to be in a position where I could lead and mentor. As someone with the highest degree in the room, institutions look to the PhDs for direction. So PhDs will become leaders--whether it’s a lab of their own in academia, or a team in an industry setting, etc. Even grad students have undergrads, or have to TA. And I was ready for, and wanted, all that.

I was good at wearing a lot of hats. PhDs don’t just do a singular task; during grad school we learn to be versatile (you have to be in an academic lab setting), and that versatility carries through later as we become excellent multitaskers and are good at adapting to new challenges. And as someone who has always successfully juggled school and work and multiple extracurriculars, and had experience being a rockin lab manager (in the lab I worked in after undergrad), I knew I was up to it.

I loved working by myself but I also loved working as a team--and that’s a necessity for research in general, even for non-PhDs, but PhDs are more likely to have to excel at both.

I was mentally, physically, emotionally, and financially ready for the challenges and commitment of 5-6 years of grad school (plus 1-3 years of being a post-doctoral fellow, if applicable). Grad school is tough as balls, and you have to be just as tough, or at least have the resources to help you. I took a gap year of 2.5 years after undergrad to a) figure out what the heck I wanted to do/get research experience and b) mature to the point where I could be ready for something like grad school. I feel that working as a full-time lab tech really allowed me to immerse myself into the closest setting of a grad student in my field as possible. Being there 40 hrs/week really is different than when you’re an undergrad researcher popping in for 2 hours/day. I also took a grad-level class to see if I could mentally balance class and research. I know that’s obviously not an option available to everyone (nor is it necessary), but that’s just how I knew that every part of me could handle the rigors of grad school.

Going off of that, I had a lot of grit and discipline. Sometimes that’s all you have left to get you through the day in grad school when everything else feels depleted. Grad students do a lot of things they’re not motivated to do, but we gotta get it done anyway, and sometimes grit is all we have to make our limbs move.

PhD holders and PhD students at the time were telling me I’d be great at pursuing one. They know better than anyone what it takes, and they knew I was ready.

Also dang, I’d be lying if I said money didn’t play a role in it. I graduated college in 2011 during the grand ol recession, and the job market stunk. I saw that options for biology majors were slim to none (I was extremely lucky to have found my lab tech job), so I knew I had to either wait it out until the job market bounced back, or make myself a more attractive candidate for the workforce, or both! (Let’s not talk about the economy during Covid lol). Also, the thought of making over 100k with a PhD was attractive. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, but money does buy happiness, because money buys food and a roof over your head and warm clothes and healthcare and hobbies so uh, yeah, I did get the highest degree possible partially for the money.

So why not a Masters? That’s a good question!! And the truth is: I didn’t know I could accomplish most of what I wanted with a Masters. And that was my fault for not doing my own research, but I think I was just.. surrounded by PhDs (both in my academic lab setting and in my family) and the thought of doing a Masters never really occurred to me. Also, idk, I knew in my heart and in my bones I wanted a PhD, so I’m not sure if I would be happy with a Masters.

Lastly, because this list is personal to me, getting a PhD would get me off my mom’s shit-list and end her endless emotional abuse towards me being worthless, etc. Long story, but yeah, it did factor into it as kind of a bonus point.

So thar’s my spiel.

One last thing I want to add: though continuing research is the most common career path for PhD holders, it’s not the only one. Here’s what else is available for PhDs (from the book Career Opportunities in Biotechnology and Drug Development by Toby Freedman)

If the image is hard to see, there are 4-ish main branches, and then some sub-branches (and even more specialized sub-branches that aren’t labeled):

R&D: Discovery research, preclinical research, bio/pharmaceutical product development, project management, clinical development, regularly affairs, medical affairs

Services: Recruiting, law, venture capital & banking, management consulting

Operations: Bio IT, quality, operations

Commercial Operations: Business development, corporate communications, product support, sales, marketing

And that’s just in the industry sector--academia, government, and non-academia/non-govt research institutions are also obviously available as career choices, though those would focus more on R&D (and also teaching).

You obviously don’t need to know the specifics of your career path before committing to grad school, but I think you should have a general idea that what you want to do would best be accomplished with a PhD.

If you’re still on the fence, I would advise:

Talking to more grad students or degree holders--both PhD and Masters (our Gradblr Discord is great for that!)--to paint a bigger picture.

Informational interviews are also great, especially if you’re interested in learning more about those career paths above.

You can also explore the field a bit more in-person by starting off with a Masters (less time commitment than a PhD, though more expensive), or an entry-level research job like I did.

Best of luck!

#genestudies #grad advice #job advice

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enchantedbride · 4 years ago

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A Ballad of Brimstone.02 (2/2)

<02. But Let Me Go Back to the Start> (2/2)

Tagging: @curiousobsession101, @goldenworldsabound, @foreveryours-mouse, @juliannos

Warning(s): Brief Profanity, Discussions of Being Kidnapped

A/N: Alright, part two of two! Joey meets Lucifer and a few of his brothers, and confronts Diavolo about her circumstances. He presents her with a deal, one she isn’t sure is ultimately fair. But it may be her only option.

The assembly hall was vast, just as spacious as the halls that preceded it. Joey could see the dark sky through the towering windows at the far side of the room. Banners and tapestries adorned the walls. The room itself was lit by candelabra spread across the tables in the room.

The dim lighting gave an ominous feel to it all. The feeling was only intensified as Joey made her way down the walkway up and her footsteps echoed across the room. Her eyes trailed from the windows, to the flickering of the candles. But her eyes fell to the group that awaited her.

Five men sat in chairs at the front of the room, in an arrangement that seemed almost reminiscent of a courtroom, but not quite. One seat was on a platform that resembled a judge’s bench, while seven seats were directly below it. Four of the seven were occupied, as was the seat on the platform.

“I’m relieved to see you’ve made it here safely, Joey. I was quite worried when you didn’t appear in the assembly hall as you were meant to. I owe Barbatos and the Little Ds a big thank you for finding you.”

Joey turned her attention to whomever spoke, seeing quickly that it was the man in the highest seat. The others were dressed in a black uniform much like Mammon’s. But his uniform was a distinctive red, contrasting against the others.

That must be Diavolo, thought Joey. And four of the seven brothers Barbatos mentioned. I met Mammon already and he was taking Kat back to where she would be staying here. But there’s three chairs that are unoccupied. I wonder why? She also pondered for a moment a piece of what he said. ‘Little Ds’… that’s what the little demons are called? Makes sense, I suppose.

“As do I,” Joey replied simply. “Are you Prince Diavolo, then?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed. “It’s nice to meet you Joey. As Prince of Demons, I welcome you to the Devildom and to RAD. I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you since I approved Lucifer’s selection of you for the exchange program.” Diavolo then smiled at her, gesturing to the table in front of him and the other council members that were present. “Please, have a seat.��

Friendly seeming sort, isn’t he? But under these circumstances, it only made her more on edge, not less. “Thank you,” Joey replied with a bow of her head before walking up to the table and seating herself in the middle to have a clear view of everyone. “Wait, is that considered acceptable etiquette here?”

At this the prince of demons laughed. “Oh what you did was perfectly fine.” He paused for a moment. “Barbatos told me you’ve been told some of the basics about why you’re here. He also mentioned you were delayed a bit because you saw your fellow exchange student in the hallway and persuaded Mammon to let you console her when you saw her in distress.”

Joey looked at him expectantly. Was he going to be mad at her for that? Because she wasn’t going to apologize for trying to be kind to someone who looked like they needed help.

“Barbatos said you were kind and brave to do so, and I agree. I definitely think we need someone with compassion and courage to be in our exchange program,” he expounded. “But from what I’ve read, you’re also a very thoughtful, intelligent, skilled, and open-minded person as well! I don’t think it’s an exaggeration at all to say you’re absolutely perfect for this.”

Joey could feel a blush creeping up her face in reaction to the shower of praise she was suddenly receiving. “I don’t know exactly what you’ve read about me or what kind of information you have, but I definitely think some of that is exaggerated. I’m definitely not courageous! And I’m not so sure I would say skilled per se.”

“Oh come now,” Diavolo replied, letting out another laugh. “Is going up to a stranger you don’t know to help them not a form of courage? Or persuading someone you have reason to believe might say no to allow you to do something? … Or keeping a veneer of composure when faced with a sudden change of circumstance?”

Joey resisted the urge to grit her teeth. Right. He already has an idea of how I feel about all of this.

“It also takes skill to persuade someone, or console a person successfully,” Diavolo argued. “We have information on you and aspects of your personality and your history. But, I have someone now whose directly witnessed you in action. And, I trust the judgment of my right hand. I believe you are those things, and I believe they factor into what make you an ideal candidate for the exchange program. Speaking of which...”

He then looked down to the council member sitting directly in front of him below. “Even if you’ve been given some of the basics, there are still some important things we need to go over with you before we send you off. And of course, I’d like to introduce you to the other members of the Student Council that are here. Actually those two things are pretty closely intertwined. " Joey raised an eyebrow, at which Diavolo smiled, and turned his attention down to the council member sitting directly below him. “And with that, I will hand things off to you from here, Lucifer.”

Lucifer, she thought. So that’s him. He wore the same uniform as everyone else, but with a shirt underneath his jacket of a different style than the others. He was very clean and polished looking, Joey observed. Uncomfortably so.

“Good morning, Joey,” he greeted her. “As you heard from Lord Diavolo, my name is Lucifer. I am Vice President of the Student Council here at RAD and the right hand of the prince.” He raised a hand to cover his chest, and bowed his head slightly. “Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome.”

Oh. Joey felt her face flush a touch of pink once more. His voice is… a lot deeper than I expected.

“Th-thank you. I appreciate such a cordial welcome. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucifer.” While it affected her response, she more quickly shook the feeling this time, less flustered by a voice that sounded appealing to her than someone flooding her with compliments. However, it seemed the instance didn’t go unnoticed.

“Aw, she flusters so easily! How adorable.~” She turned her head to see another member of the student council smiling amusedly at her. “I must say you picked a really cute one, Lucifer.” Joey kept her gaze averted from his however, annoyed by his remark.

Just ignore him, Joey, she told herself.

Lucifer sighed. “Please pay him no mind, Joey. My younger brother, Asmodeus is fond of making such remarks.”

Joey frowned. Asmodeus huh? He wouldn’t happen to be the Avatar of Lust, would he? Because if he makes comments like that, that’s my first thought.

“Ugh, how rude! I was simply voicing my approval of your choice of candidate, Lucifer.”

Lucifer ignored him, bringing his attention back to Joey. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I will be taking over explaining things from here. What exactly has Barbatos told you about so far? If I know what you’ve already been told, I can simply move on to information that hasn’t been covered yet.”

“Well,” Joey started. “I was told that I was summoned here by Prince Diavolo to take part in an exchange program between the Devildom, Celestial Realm, and Human world intended to encourage understanding and respect between the inhabitants of each. There are two other human exchange students and three angel exchange students that will be attending school at RAD while three demons will be sent to the Celestial Realm and the Human World respectively. I was told the duration of the program will be a year.”

At this Lucifer smiled. “Very good. Barbatos is excellent in his duties as ever.” He then folded his arms. “In that case I will start with the basics of what you’ll be expected to do while you’re here. You will be given tasks and assignments to complete throughout your stay from RAD, and at the end you will be asked to write a paper about your experiences as an exchange student here.”

“Makes sense. Although, I’m guessing the tasks and assignments I will be completing won’t be quite like what I was working on for my grad studies in the human world.” Joey voiced her thoughts aloud. “Also, what sort of requirements are there for this paper I have to write?” She was unaware of the flow of her own facial expressions as she could be at times. But, what Lucifer said in reply showed that he caught the moment at which her nervousness showed.

“You’re not being asked to write a master or doctoral thesis. You can take it easy,” he said, in a tone that was almost but not quite reassuring, “It is more for our benefit to determine the success of the program and give direction as to where to go once the program has concluded.”

“Oh! I see. It’s just an opportunity to give feedback in a more detailed and formalized manner?”

“Precisely,” Lucifer confirmed with a nod. “Lord Diavolo is willing to do whatever needs to be done to see his endeavors succeed. And I certainly will do whatever I must to see that end as well.”

Well, if Kat is anything to go by, he doesn’t seem to be willing to take criticism about abducting participants in his plans.

“You’re very loyal and devoted to Prince Diavolo,” Joey observed.

At this comment Diavolo laughed. “I’m very lucky, aren’t I? Lucifer is not only my right hand, but my most trusted friend.”

“You repeat your flattery from earlier, I see,” remarked Lucifer.

“Well, things haven’t changed since then, have they? It’s true,” Diavolo countered, “It’s also why I entrusted you to not only select who would take part in the program, but look after the two of our three exchange students who don’t possess magic to protect themselves here in the Devildom.”

“Look after?” Joey asked. “I was told Lucifer appointed Mammon to look after Katherine, and they were on their way to a place called ‘the House of Lamentation’.”

“Yes, I did,” replied Lucifer. “I have been tasked with overseeing both of you for the duration of your stay here. This isn’t just keeping an eye on your performance in class however. There are those in the Devildom who oppose Diavolo’s desire for change, or simply don’t care, and would do harm to the exchange students. The students from the Celestial Realm and the one human who possesses magic have the means to fight back, but both you and Katherine do not. As such, I was tasked with your safety as well.”

“Alright.”

“In order to keep both of you safe during your stay, I have firstly arranged for you both to stay at the House of Lamentation. It is the dormitory for members of the Student Council aside from Lord Diavolo.”

“That makes sense.” Joey nodded. “If we’re living in the same dorm it’s easier to keep an eye on things.”

“Indeed,” said Lucifer. “Secondly, I have appointed one of my brothers each as a guardian. You of course have met Mammon now, whom I chose as Katherine’s guardian. As for you… I’m afraid it took more time to determine who would be most suitable as your guardian.”

At the moment, another of the council entered into the conversation. “What he means to say is that he didn’t trust anyone enough to come to a decision right away.”

“I was right to have my doubts. Were it not for the workload I already have to deal with, I would have taken up the task myself,” he argued.

“Well, you’re taking a more active hand in Joey’s case than Katherine’s. Why does Mammon get less scrutiny than I do? We all know he’s scum! Considering how much trouble he gets into, that doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“Both of you are trouble. But in your case I have particular reservations. But you are also the most likely to take your job as guardian seriously, hence why I appointed you, Satan. You should consider yourself grateful I gave you the task at all. I’ve given you the chance to prove yourself.”

Joey turned her attention to whom Lucifer was speaking to. “Oh, I’ll more than prove myself,” proclaimed the council member, “Not for your benefit, though.”

Lucifer then turned back. “Joey, this is Satan. He is the fourth oldest of us brothers, and the Avatar of Wrath. While he is not an ideal candidate, he was the best choice when it came to appointing a guardian for you.”

“Lucifer really likes to speak ill of his brothers. He is the Avatar of Pride after all,” remarked Satan before he fully turned his attention to Joey. He leaned forward in his seat and gave her a very warm and friendly smile. “Hi Joey. It’s really nice to meet you. Don’t take what Lucifer says too seriously, okay? I’ll do my best as your guardian to make sure you have a good experience here in the Devildom.”

“Nice to meet you too, Satan,” Joey answered back politely, an unsure half-smile tugging at her lips. “It seems like you and Lucifer don’t get along.”

“Doesn’t take long to figure that out, does it?” He chuckled.

“Don’t be fooled by Satan’s friendly outward appearance, Joey. It is only an act,” Lucifer cautioned her.

“If you continue to say such nonsense Lucifer, you’ll just scare Joey. And I bet she’s already scared enough as is. She doesn’t need more of that right now, does she?”

Lucifer sighed, furrowing his brow once more and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you done?”

“Almost. I have one more thing I’d like to say to Joey,” Satan answered with a smirk. “I’ll be heading back with you to the House of Lamentation when we’re done, Joey. I’m looking forward to showing you around and getting to know you a little. Do you like to read, Joey?”

“Sometimes.” Joey replied. “Sitting down with a cozy book or an audiobook on my phone is a nice way to pass the time. Although I’m more of a gamer myself.”

“A gamer, huh? Levi might take a liking to you pretty quickly then once you two meet. He’s into video games too.”

“Levi?”

“Leviathan, the third oldest,” Lucifer clarified, exasperation showing in his expression for an instant. “He is the Avatar of Envy. He was supposed to be here and at the previous meeting, but didn’t show up. I will have to deal with him later for that.”

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan and Asmodeus. That’s five. I’m guessing the guy whose been quiet so far is either the youngest or second youngest then. Which means it’s the other of the two that’s also not here…

She had to admit even if it was an act, she appreciated that Satan was being friendly to her in the moment. But all things considered, she couldn’t help but wonder if Lucifer’s politeness and Diavolo’s friendliness were also facades. Barbatos said Diavolo was honest, but how could she know that for sure? She didn’t know any of them. Sure, she was taught the usual folktales of demons lying and manipulating humans to get their souls as a little girl. But she considered the former, and the fact she had been abducted to be the most important in currently weighing whether to trust them now.

“You didn’t really get a proper introduction to Asmodeus before did you?” Satan asked Joey. “Asmo is my younger brother and the fifth oldest among us. He’s the Avatar of Lust.”

“I’m glad someone gave me a proper introduction!” Amsodeus huffed, before he looked at Joey and flashed her a charming smile. “Hey there Joey. I’m absolutely thrilled to meet you!”

“So you are the Avatar of Lust then. I suspected that might be the case earlier.”

“That’s right! Of course you know we each represent one of the seven deadly sins. But it doesn’t sum about what we’re about in terms of personality. It also gives you an idea of the sort of powers we have.” Asmodeus leaned back in his chair, resting his cheek on his hand as he kept his gaze on Joey. “Would you like a demonstration of mine? All you have to do is look into my eyes.”

Joey shook her head emphatically in refusal. “Sorry, I’m really uncomfortable with direct eye contact. Always have been.”

“Awwww. You’re no fun.”

“It’s for the best in this case. You best be wary of Asmo’s gaze, Joey. He can charm most humans who look into his eyes,” Satan warned her. “And once you’re under his influence, he’ll eat you.”

“Don’t say that!” Asmodeus protested. “Besides, none of us are allowed to eat Joey. Or Kat.”

So he would eat me if given the chance. Good to know. Joey was no worse off than before. She had wondered if any of these demons would eat her if given the chance and now she knew for certain at least one of them would.

At this a loud grumble echoed.

“I’m so hungry…” said the brother who had yet to speak.

“I’ve told you twice during our last meeting, Beel. I won’t tell you again. Behave yourself,” Lucifer snapped. “All of you!” He sighed, turning quickly to Joey. “This one is Beelzebub, the sixth eldest.”

“I’m the Avatar of Gluttony,” explained Beelzebub. “And I hope I can get something to eat once this is over. I’m really sorry Joey, but you look delicious and it’s just making my hunger that much worse.”

Asmodeus laughed. “I would be inclined to agree with Beel, although you don’t look delicious in just one sense.~”

Of course the Avatar of Lust would say that. “I’m about as appealing as a sack of raw flour thrown against the wall. You have much better options.”

“Oh come now,” Asmodeus brushed her off with a chuckle.

“Now, can you stop being a creep for five minutes? Because I’d really like to leave if you won’t.”

Before this could continue however, Lucifer stepped in to regain control of the conversation.

“I was going to introduce my brothers in a more orderly manner then this, you have my apologies for the disorder you see before you, Joey. And my younger brother’s rudeness.”

“It’s okay,” Joey assured him. It really wasn’t.

“There’s no need to be dishonest about your discomfort, Joey,” Diavolo interjected. “Asmodeus, please don’t make our guest uncomfortable. No harm is allowed to come to her, especially not from her would-be housemates.”

“Thank you, Diavolo.” Lucifer exhaled, his gratefulness towards the prince evident in his relieved expression.

“I’m sorry you’re so hungry, Beelzebub,” Joey turned her attention back to second youngest brother for a moment. “Maybe you’ll be able to get something to eat when this is over.”

“I hope so,” Beelzebub replied.

“Now,” Lucifer continued. “I have something to give you, Joey. Of course Satan and I are the ones primarily in charge of your well-being here in the Devildom, but all of the brothers are entrusted with lending you their strength. We will be living together, but you should have the means to reach us even when we’re not all in the house.”

He stood up and walked over to where Joey sat, pulling something out of his pocket and handing it to her. As she took it from him, her hand briefly brushed against his, and she instinctively shivered when she felt how cold the leather of his gloves were against her skin.

Joey turned the object over in her hand to get a better look. “A smartphone?”

“It’s a device identical in nature to one. It’s called a D.D.D. It can make calls, send text messages, and has many apps on it that are much like those you might be familiar with in the human world. It is preloaded with the contact information of myself, my brothers, and Prince Diavolo. Should you need to contact us at any time, you need only use this to do so.”

“Thank you,” said Joey.

“There is another important feature of the device that you need to know about,” Lucifer continued. “One of the Apps already on the device is one called ‘Nightmare’. You have no magic, so you can’t defend yourself properly against those who would do you harm in the Devildom. But, it also means you are at a disadvantage when it comes to completing your tasks for RAD, which include mock magical combat.”

“So I’ll be learning how to fight with magic? But… just not with my own.”

“Yes, exactly. You’ll be using a measure of our power- that of the seven brothers through the use of Nightmare,” said Lucifer. “Well, ‘borrowing’ would perhaps be the more accurate term in this case. But you understand the idea.”

Joey nodded. She thought for a moment, not sure what to say next.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“So there’s you, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub. Whose the last brother? Was he also supposed to be here?”

Lucifer felt silent for a moment. Before he could answer, it was Beelzebub who spoke up.

“That youngest brother is my twin brother Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth,” he said. “He couldn’t be here because he’s one the students from here that got sent up to the human world.”

“Oh, I see.” Joey answered simply. Lucifer took a moment before he was about to answer. I wonder why. It could have meant any number of things, and Joey was not about to guess with almost no information to base it off of.

“It is unlikely you will meet him. He will return once you are sent home,” Lucifer added.

Joey nodded. “I see.” She felt a somber air fall over the room for a moment. “So, I’ll be doing mock combat at RAD, what else will I’ll be learning?”

“Ah, yes, the curriculum and the nature of your tasks,” Lucifer was quick to switch tracks, looking almost relieved at the change of subject. “Your primary task will be to polish up your soul so you can acquire the power to resist demons.”

“So I’ll be learning how to resist being manipulated and giving into temptation?”

“You continue to catch on quick,” Lucifer noted, smirking for a moment before he became serious once more, “As I mentioned to the previous exchange student, demons like humans with nice souls. Or, to put it another way, they are like jewels that demons will do everything in their power to get. They will use their wisdom and abilities they have to tempt humans into giving up their souls- for power, fame, whatever it is the human desires so badly.”

“I’ve heard stories about that,” Joey said. “But when you mean a ‘nice’ soul… I… well, I’m not sure I understand. It seems like a rather vague description.”

At this Lucifer chuckled, the brief smirk from before returning, but not leaving so easily this time. “A ‘nice’ soul would be one that is pure, genuine, worthy of respect. A soul that doesn’t so easily fall.” Joey felt his gaze more intensely focused on her for a moment, causing her to feel discomfort. I don’t like this, she thought. “Other demons at RAD will have tasks assigned to them at RAD just like you. In other words, eithers humans will be tempted by demons, or demons will lose against the shiny and noble soul of a human and make a run for it. It’s something of an experiment, to find out who will win.”

“So I’ll be learning to resist demons, while demons will be learning to tempt humans,” Joey concluded.

“Yes. That is the heart of it.”

“Will the other students be trying to tempt me then?”

“They might. But it’s up to you to resist them if you do.”

Well fuck. I guess I’d be screwed then. I may have a strong will but I’m kind of easy to manipulate in some ways. Joey shook her head. “And if I lose? Will I forfeit my soul?”

At this Lucifer laughed. “There’s currently no penalty set at the moment.” As he said his next words, his voice lowered. “Would you like me to think of one?”

“NO!” Joey exclaimed perhaps a little too forcefully. You look WAY too pleased with the idea of inventing some sort of punishment for me if I fail. “I mean… no. Just the thought you might think of one is enough of a deterrent.”

Lucifer laughed again. “If only that were enough to deter my brothers from getting into trouble.” He studied the scared look on Joey’s face and shook his head. “There there, don’t give me that look. Don’t take it so seriously. You won’t have to do your tasks completely on your own. Of course I’ve already told you about the use of Nightmare in case of mock battles. But, we will also lend you our power and the help you require to complete your other tasks at RAD as well.”

“Considering my very soul may be on the line, I think I’m within my rights to take this very fucking seriously,” Joey argued, her composure slipping slightly. “Actually before, you continue, I think I need to say something.”

“Go right ahead. I’ve actually come to the end of what I was going to cover with you before I sent you on your way.” Lucifer sighed.

Alright, here goes everything. I probably won’t do much better than Kat. But at least I can say I tried.

“Actually this is more towards Diavolo then you, but, the fact of the matter is that I was brought here to the Devildom without being asked first. You abducted me from my home.” Joey stood up, placing the D. D. D. back on the table. “However noble your goal is, that’s not okay.

“I want to go home. NOW. And I want Katherine to be allowed to go home as well.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option,” answered Lucifer. “You were chosen. This isn’t something you can change.”

“I can’t change it, or you won’t change it?” Joey argued. “Let’s not dance around the issue. The fact of the matter is that I’m not a guest here. I’m your captive. And so is Katherine. Were all of the exchange students brought here this way?”

Now it was Diavolo’s turn to sigh. “I was worried this might come up in the conversation. Actually I was hoping… no, it’s not important. You’re right, this needs to be addressed.”

The demon prince also stood up, coming down from his platform.

“Lord Diavolo?”

“It’s alright Lucifer,” Diavolo assured him. “Firstly, no. Only you and Katherine were brought here this way. The third human exchange student, Solomon, as well as the three students from the Celestial Realm, were extended an invitation and accepted said invitation.”

“So why do they get the choice and we don’t?”

“It was easier to do so in their cases. I specifically wanted at least one of our exchange students to be an ordinary human, of extraordinary ability and character and was lucky enough that Lucifer found two suitable. After all, what better way for the other two realms to understand humans than to interact with those, who much like most of their kind of have little to do with demons, angels, or magic. But, most ordinary humans nowadays don’t believe in demons, and if they do they certainly don’t trust them. And for good reason, given our history,” Diavolo remarked. “It made the prospect of bringing such candidates here tricky. After all, if we were to extend an invitation through a letter, a call, or a text or even in person, would you believe it let alone accept it?”

“Probably not, I have to admit.” Joey answered him. “But how is the answer to that bringing us here and then refusing to give us the option to, well, refuse?”

Diavolo kept his eyes on her, though it was hard for her to tell exactly what he was thinking. He said nothing, simply maintaining an intense focus on Joey. It was almost unsettling.

The others looked to the demon prince with anticipation, clearly wondering what response he would give. Eventually, he opened his mouth to speak, a barely audible exhale escaping his lips.

“You want to change my mind,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And I want to change yours. But you’ve already demonstrated your will is something to contend with. Well, Joey, so is mine.” He approached the table where Joey was sitting, until he was standing directly across from her. “Nothing you say can persuade me to release you or your fellow human at this very moment. But that said, I have to wonder. Who do you think has the stronger will between us, Joey?”

Joey frowned. “Yours, probably.” Joey didn’t have a lot of confidence in herself most of the time. She perhaps had more than she did in the past, which was hardly any at all. Her determination to help others could push her through her insecurities. But, at this moment she didn’t want to overestimate her ability to best the prince of demons in a battle of wills. Or at least a hypothetical one.

“You would think that. I am heir to the throne of the Devildom, after all. I do have considerable power and a will to wield it,” he agreed. “But, you, a supposedly ordinary human, managed to resist my call strongly enough that it caused complications. And this was while you slept. Imagine if you were awake and fully aware… fully in command of that will of yours.”

“You overestimate me.”

“I really don’t think so,” Diavolo countered, his voice disarmingly cordial and gentle. “You have the capability of being determined, willful, brave. Even in the face of powerful demons who could easily kill you. If anything, I think you’re underestimating yourself. Listen, I have a proposal. Neither of us will budge at this moment. But… it’s possible that eventually over a period of time one of our wills could overcome the others while pitted against the other.”

“What are you suggesting exactly?” Joey questioned, feeling her nerves flaring up.

“A compromise of sorts. But really, it’s more of a test of your will against mine,” he explained, “I will still send you and Katherine home when the year is complete. I absolutely will not send you home now. These cannot and will not change. But… if you can perhaps eventually find a way to persuade me to send you home early, then I will. If of course, you still wish to leave.In the meantime, you will take part in the exchange program as normal. But, I will do everything in my power to persuade you to stay, just as you will try to persuade me to let you and Katherine leave.”

Joey found herself feeling guarded. It sounded like a very dangerous gamble on her part, and one Diavolo was very confident he would win if he was even suggesting it in the first place. Or at least that what she assumed was the case on the prince’s part.

“I don’t trust this.”

“I’m not asking you to trust it. At least, not right now. I hope you will come to trust me eventually. Perhaps we can even be friends. I would like that,” Diavolo replied, a smile and a more jovial tone of voice returning to him. “But, I am asking for your consent. I didn’t give you an option before. I myself felt I had no good options for how to to handle this. But I am giving you a choice on how to go forward now. What do you say?”

Joey resisted the temptation to grit her teeth.

“Is it really a choice? My options are this or nothing.”

“Please Joey. I want you in this program. I need you in this program. I could just force you, but I think I’d much prefer to win you over. I’d much prefer to be won over. The whole point of this program itself is to change the minds of demon, human, and angel alike. This is actually perfectly fitting, don’t you think?”

Do I really have a choice? Do I really?

“... … Okay,” she relented. “Okay, I’ll agree to it. If it means we have a chance of leaving at all then I’ll take it.”

At this Diavolo grinning ecstatically and laughed mirthfully.

“Wonderful!” The prince shook his head. “Joey, I’m so happy you agreed, and I’m also very relieved.” He then turned to the others. “I think I’m even more excited for the next year then I was before. I look forward to seeing how things unfold.” He then turned back to Joey, his expression disarmingly welcoming as it was when this all started. “Good luck, Joey. Truly, I have the highest of hopes for you and for the exchange program! And with that, I will let you and Satan go so he can take you to the House of Lamentation and get you settled.”

Joey looked down, an unsettled feeling gathering in the pit of her stomach. I feel cheated.

“Alright.” Satan then stood up, coming down towards Joey as Diavolo went to take his own seat once more. “Let’s go, Joey. The house isn’t far from here. When we get there you can relax for a bit. I’m sure you’ll need it after all of this.”

“Probably,” Joey admitted. She stood up, taking one last look back and Diavolo and the others. She found her eyes settling on Lucifer for a moment and saw his gaze flitting between her and Diavolo.

I’m in hell, she thought. In both the literal and not so literal sense. Fuck me!

“Well then, shall we?”

Satan’s words pulled her back to the present. She turned to him and nodded, following behind until she caught up and walked alongside him out of the room.

And now I’ve agreed to a very dangerous game. No no no no there’s no way I can pull this off! But I have to or we can’t leave any sooner. Assuming they’re really going to let us leave at all! God I’m such a fucking idiot. I’m so screwed! And Kat might get hurt too because of me!

“Joey?” As soon as they were out of sight of the others Satan’s voice broke the silence between them.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright? I can’t imagine what must be going through your head right now.”

Joey frowned, feeling another wave of anxiety come up behind the current wave of panic she was feeling. “I don’t want to talk about it if that’s alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. Sorry Satan. Maybe we can talk about this later?”

“Okay.” Satan sighed. “For what it’s worth, you’ve every right to feel angry about this.”

Angry barely begins to cover it.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” So this my fate. For now, at least.

#tales of a magus (fanfiction)#sable peacock (lucifer)#modern persephone (obey me!joey)#devils and dead girls (lucey)#verse (into the dark and back: obey me)

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eponymous-rose · 5 years ago

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Good stuff from today! A bonus: going to visit Mom and Dad again on Sunday and Monday!

1. Ran into a senior colleague in the elevator as I was getting in. It’s always kind of nice, if you have to go in to work early, to get that witnessed by someone! We also chatted after work, and he pulled some strings to make sure I can go to a fancy dinner with a faculty candidate tomorrow evening. He also got me onto a really excellent (and annoyingly exclusive) mailing list yesterday, which was very cool of him. Just super grateful to have so many kind senior faculty members watching out for me!

2. Had a fantastic one-on-one interview with a faculty candidate (basically, each candidate has to interview individually with every member of the current faculty, which is why these interviews take two full days). We talked mentoring, and I was actually able to offer some wisdom! One of the things that freaked me out most about starting grad school was the realization that I didn’t have a clue who anyone was (”Oh, just read Bill’s paper!” Okay, cool, who the hell is Bill?), so early on for my first grad student, I put together a list of the Big-Name Papers and a little paragraph for each author explaining where they’re at, what they’ve done, and where he’s likely to meet them. That particular idea seemed to strike a chord!

3. The newest member of one of the big national boards I’m on is nonbinary and it was just really nice to see a big group of folks in a work setting matter-of-factly and immediately switching to they/them pronouns after the initial introduction.

4. Ran a phenomenal review session for my class (they have a final quiz for this unit on Friday). I hadn’t prepared anything, but I got a great rhythm going between highlighting important points on the slides and working through some improvised practice problems on the board. Finally feeling comfortable enough to get some real back-and-forth going with the students! I perfected the exact amount of awkward silence to get an answer rather than blank stares, and thanks to students being brave enough to speak up in class, I managed to clear up a pretty glaring point of confusion that the whole class shared. Just felt really on my game, teaching-wise, which is always a good feeling.

5. Again in the elevator, an undergrad student who was at that evening talk I gave last week came up to me and asked if she could work with me over the summer on tornado research. I need to figure out the logistics, but I feel like I should be able to scramble a good project and a summer’s worth of decent paychecks for her somehow! I’ve talked before about how undergrad research was so important in my academic career (and that was in fact a big through-line in the talk I gave last week), so it’s fantastic to hopefully get to help someone along in that sense.

#five good things post

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ahappydnp · 4 years ago

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omg so happy for you!! i totally get your imposter-y feelings but take it and runnnn. my sister is just going through a similar thing she got an interview for her top choice of graduate programs, it went really well and she’s literally 1/3 candidates and like she was so convinced they wouldn’t even contact her so like. if you’re anything like her - which i’m sure you are - then you are an excellent choice they’d be lucky to have you and seize the opportunity dude! manifesting this for youuu ♥️♥️

Oh, the imposter feelings are strong lmao (also good luck to your sister! Grad school interviews are hell on earth but she’s got this!) Thank you anon!! I’ve really had a feeling good things were coming for awhile but like...wow good things are happening???

#anon ask

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mr-entj · 6 years ago

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Mr-entj, I'm a senior in college and starting my career soon which this blog has been an abundance of valuable information. What have you seen in your experience as the biggest jobs hunting MISTAKES college students make at this phase? I would like to learn from those common mistakes if possible because I do treasure wisdom and experience. Thank you.

Related answers:

Resume and Cover Letter Guide

Job interview tips

Job hunting 101

Off the top of my head, top 3 below.

Top 3 job hunting mistakes college students make

1. They think it’s easy

This is how most students think job hunting goes (theory):

I attend college

I do relatively well and graduate with a degree

I submit some job applications to my favorite jobs

I interview

I get a job offer!

This is how job hunting actually is (reality):

I attend college

I do relatively well and graduate with a degree

I submit some job applications to my favorite jobs

I get all rejections or no responses from the jobs

I apply to more jobs

I get no responses

I apply to more jobs

I get no responses

I apply to more jobs

I get maybe 1 interview

I interview but I don’t get the job and have no idea why I didn’t get it

I start to get frustrated and lose hope

I have been unemployed for months post-graduation

I start to panic

I settle for a crap job

WTF happened?

It’s overconfidence mixed with a huge dose of naivete due to a lack of real world experience.

To avoid underestimating this process:

Understand that job hunting is a highly subjective process– it’s not an objective process. That’s why it’s so difficult, it’s like dating. A candidate can have all the qualifications and be a “perfect” fit but can still be rejected because the company didn’t “like” the person or the timing was off or the position was filled or the company knows someone internally who’s a better fit or [insert other rejection reason here]. There are many unknown variables that are invisible to the job applicant. Often times, job applications submitted via websites are rarely seen, interviews are expedited for people with specific connections to the company or skills relevant to the role, schools/majors/grades weed people out immediately, and offers are only extended if the stars align for the candidate. This is why preparation is critical to success.

Understand that job hunting is ultra competitive. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people applying for the same position and they’re just as smart and just as qualified– if not more. Often times, students think because they academically excelled at their specific university that they’re competitive against a field of graduates from other universities when they’re actually a big fish in a small pond. This is a mistake. Exercise humility, treat every position and organization with respect, don’t assume you’re a special snowflake overachiever, and always assume that you’re the underdog.

Prepare like hell. There are tons of resources on this blog and everywhere on the internet to help craft compelling resumes, make professional/industry connections, improve interview performance, and give huge advantages to people that seek them out. Be proactive.

2. They don’t leverage their network

Pop quiz. What’s the advantage of going to college if you can learn most of this stuff on the internet? Why are you paying $XX,000 thousands of dollars per year for an education if Google, free visits to the library, and discount books online can relay the same information? Why?

Answer: The main advantages of a formal education from a reputable university are that it establishes external credibility, grants an academic cohort that eventually becomes a professional network, and provides career resources.

Advantages are only advantages if you actually use them.

To leverage a network:

Attend career campus events. Colleges work around the clock to get companies to come on campus and hire their graduates– do not miss these events. Polish your resume, dust off your suit, and come with your best smile to explore opportunities and meet students.

Visit the university career center. There are people employed and paid solely for the purpose of getting you a job. Any company or alum looking to hire a graduate from your school will go through the university career center so staying close to the staff here will get you first pick.

Use the university job board. These are positions usually offered by alums in other companies that are exclusive to your school. This gives you first pick of positions that may or may not be live on other job websites.

Network with alumni. Get a professional mentor, reach out on LinkedIn, volunteer at alumni events. Alums are former students who have been in your exact position so they understand the struggle. Any alum who commits time and energy into attending an alumni event usually has school pride and wants to give back. Engage them.

Join on-campus professional groups. Professional frats, affinity groups, study groups, etc. Shared interests = shared bonds = relationship building.

3. They start too late

I’m going to repeat this over and over until people get it: the most difficult time to get a job is straight out of college when you have little to no relevant work experience that separates you from a sea of candidates. For this reason, do not procrastinate.

Remember that employers want to minimize the risk of hiring the wrong person and maximize the chance of hiring the correct person which is why college graduates have a tougher time entering the job market than experienced professionals who have projects, references, and bodies of work (empirical evidence) to vouch for their abilities. Once a college graduate accumulates years of experience this problem goes away but until then they need to be proactive in searching for opportunities while in school. It’s imperative that students start job hunting, internships, and recruiting activities before they graduate college to avoid missing critical deadlines only available to them as students.

It’s exponentially more difficult to find a job after graduation because all the desirable positions will have already been filled. One of two things tend to happen to people who don’t recruit well during college and who graduate without a job:

They’ll scramble for low-level positions they’re overqualified for that don’t require a college degree, that are lower paying, but more difficult to get because of the larger applicant pool

They’ll apply for positions for experienced professionals that they’re underqualified for because the new grad entry-level positions are already gone but they also have no substantive work experience for these experienced positions

This is a form of professional purgatory where they’re neither here nor there; a college graduate overqualified for menial jobs but also underqualified for entry-level jobs that require 1-2 years of experience. This is not a good position to be in; do not be in this position. Career procrastination and the failure to recruit properly during college will create something called career debt because bad job placement post-graduation will set a career back years especially in pursuit of leadership positions.

To get a head start on job hunting:

Have meaningful internships throughout your college career. Graduating without an internship is not a good look. It basically tells the world that you didn’t do anything outside of the classroom; no exposure to the professional world, no extra effort into researching your career, and no additional parties to vouch for your work. This means that in a crowd of graduating students, nothing differentiates you from the herd. Search online for internships, there are tons of resources for this and most companies will post internships directly on their career pages:

Indeed

Glassdoor

Apple internships

Amazon internships

Start job hunting 6-9 months before graduation. There are positions aimed specifically for new grads and they’re marked with (wait for it) “NEW GRAD” in the job title. They’re hard to miss. These positions are specifically for college students without any work experience but they have strict deadlines and cut-off dates that shouldn’t be missed. Examples of those are below.

Deloitte New Grad Portal

PwC New Grad

Google Students

Facebook New Grad

JP Morgan New Grad

Kaiser Permanente Early Career

CNBC Early Career Opportunities

#college #career #job #internship #graduation #work #careers #job interview #interview #faq #university

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years ago

Text

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT FORCE

So let me tell you a little about Jessica. But maybe if we were investing millions we would think differently. By accepting the term sheet, the startup agrees to turn away other VCs for some set amount of time while this firm does the due diligence required for the deal. A typical startup goes through several rounds of funding, regardless of whatever obstacles are in the way. Overall only about 10% of startups succeed, but if I had to add a new application to my list of known time sinks: Firefox. Ten years ago VCs used to insist that founders step down as CEO and hand the job over to a business guy they supplied. Bush seemed old and tired. To get a complete picture, just add in every possible disaster. I stopped watching it. Odds are it will be a junior person; they scour the web looking for startups their bosses could invest in. What are we going to do if one of the founders in a startup can stay in grad school, but at YC culture wasn't just how we behaved when we built the product.

Indeed, food is an excellent metaphor to explain what's wrong with the usual sort of job is a consulting project in which you can move into a big one or from which you can move into a big one or from which you can build whatever software you wanted to sell as a startup. We could hire employees, but we want to be able to convince; they just won't be able to brag that he was an investor. I didn't enjoy the short stories we had to read in English classes; I didn't use expert systems myself. But most founders, because it takes most of the ideas in an essay to happen after you start writing it, they had some new ideas. Television, for example, about how to approach VCs. So on demo day I told the assembled angels and VCs in that they're actual companies, but they pay more attention to deals recommended by someone they respect. In a startup, managing them is one of the most difficult problems for startup founders is deciding when to approach VCs, which VCs obviously don't need to write it again. They may if they are, we have a remarkable coincidence to explain. They also spend a little money on a freelance graphic designer. Y Combinator doesn't require vesting, because a they ask who else you've talked to and when and b they talk among themselves.

As for how to write well than most people realize, because they know it's true. You can't just sit there. And what's especially dangerous is that many happen at your computer. I'm not saying that issues don't matter to voters. And microcomputers turned out to vary a great deal of profanity. Fear of failure is an extraordinarily powerful force. Some we helped with strategy questions, like what to patent, and what to charge for and what to charge for and what to give away. Needless to say, you should be nice to and who you can get. I think of it, we were surprised how frightened most of them were of competitors. If someone pays $20,000 for 10% of a company, the company is still just an idea.

That might be worth exploring. Many investors explicitly use that as a test, reasoning correctly that if you let people in their early twenties get into debt, because their expenses grow even faster than the salary that seemed so high when they left school. Is anyone able to develop software faster than you? People this age are commonly seen as lazy. So just do what you'd do in any complex, unfamiliar situation: proceed deliberately, and question anything that seems odd. Control of a company is only two months old, every day you wait gives you 1. There are millions of small businesses in America, but only for a small one, and if not, they say they want to be forced to figure out what you like is to look at what you enjoy as guilty pleasures. Microcomputers turned out to be very disciplined if you take the latter route that the lawyer is representing you rather than merely advising you, or his only duty is to the investor. There was an authenticity that everyone who walked in could sense. And you can't approach some and save others for later, because a we invest such small amounts, and b it means that Y Combinator, and it seems to me the increasing cheapness of web startups. If the Democrats had been running a candidate as charismatic as Clinton in the 2004 election, he'd have won. If people have to choose between something that's cheap, heavily marketed, and appealing in the short term, and something that's expensive, obscure, and appealing in the long term the right answer for dealing with Internet distractions will be software that watches and controls them.

Both now compete directly with VCs. I decided one night to start it, and 50% of those you start with to be wrong; be confident enough to cut; have friends you trust read your stuff and tell you which bits are boring the paragraphs you dread reading; try to tell the reader something new and useful; work in fairly big quanta of time; when you restart, begin by rereading what you have so far; when you finish, leave yourself something easy to start with; accumulate notes for topics you plan to write about, then write down what you said; expect 80% of the ideas writing would have generated. I was a kid, computers were big, expensive machines built one at a time. There are few large, private technology companies. Inexperienced founders make the same mistake when trying to convince investors to let you do it. To convince yourself that your startup is worth investing in, and then only in a vague sense of malaise. The company may do additional funding rounds, presumably at higher valuations.

In a startup you have lots of worries, but you don't have this protection, as we found to our dismay in our own startup. Bush seemed old and tired. And since success in a startup: to be a time when one failed to do something they'd promised to, even by being late for an appointment. If you walk around a museum trying this experiment, you'll find you get some truly startling results. Something that used to be safe, using the Internet. In fact, nice is not the brand name or perhaps even the classes so much as the people you meet. A group of 10 managers is not merely a group of 10 people working together in the usual way. So if you hear someone saying we don't need to write it again. That's a known danger sign, like drinking alone. We often tell startups to release a minimal version one quickly, then let the needs of the users determine what to do next. And that required very different skills from actually doing the startup. Startups often pay investors who will help the company in restricted stock, vesting over four years, and the terms end up being whatever the lawyer considers vanilla.

You get to work on juicy kinds of work, like designing software. This way, they were going to be hearing in the press about what Jessica has achieved. Financially, vesting has little effect, but in startups the curve is startlingly steep. This essay is derived from a keynote at FOWA in October 2007. Sales people make much the same way that living in the future big companies will have both a VP of Engineering responsible for technology developed in-house, and a CAO responsible for bringing technology in from outside. VCs will own a third of the company 2/4 2. Of course the odds of any given startup doing an IPO are small. A quarter of their life. The fact that seed firms are companies also means the investment process is more standardized.

Excite did, for example, because no one said anything definite enough to refute. If Jessica was so important to YC, why don't more people realize it? The traditional series A board consisted of two founders, two VCs, and we make a point of exerting less. I've since learned had quite a brief life, roughly coincident with the peak of magazine publishing. So working for yourself makes your brain more powerful in the same portfolio-optimizing way as investors. And getting rejected will put you in a slightly awkward position, because as you'll see when you start fundraising, the most common question you'll get from investors will be who else is investing? So if some friends want you to come work for their startup. Procrastination feeds on distractions. I now leave wifi turned off on my main computer except when I need to transfer a file or edit a web page, and I can't think of one.

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ehstarwar · 5 years ago

Text

the gentler gamester is the soonest winner (2/4)

Looking very debonair in dark jeans and a too-tight sweater stretched across his wide chest, is an exasperated man, formerly known a Seat Thief. Otherwise known as Ben.

Oh, fuck.

Rey and Ben find out they have some mutual friends. (Shocking, I know.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: it's awkward silences! it's a lot of blushing! it's... The Angst™

Chapter 2: to mourn a mischief that is past and gone

“This equation is wrong.”

“What? Where?”

“The variable is in the wrong place, I think.”

“I’ll email Skywalker,” Rey says. Finn continues onto the next problem as Rey thinks of a polite way to tell a professor with an ego the size of Coruscant that he got something wrong. Poe takes a loud sip of a frappuccino that ran out about three sips ago. Rey looks up to give Poe a pointed glare when she sees his face look behind her shoulder and light up.

“Benji!” Poe shouts, waving his hands. Rey is used to Poe’s… eccentric behavior, even has come to like it on occasion, but this isn’t that time. Rey is prepping for her onslaught of midterms, trying to figure out how she can squeeze more hours in at the coffee counter without any more hours in the day, and hoping that she can stretch her clean underwear until next week.

In short, Rey does not have time to make pleasantries with the, most likely, similarly eccentric person Poe is about to introduce to them. Rey glances behind her shoulder and feels her stomach drop.

Looking very debonair in dark jeans and a too-tight sweater stretched across his wide chest, is an exasperated man, formerly known a Seat Thief. Otherwise known as Ben.

Oh, fuck.

Rey snaps her head back around, trying to come up with a way to inconspicuously brush out her greasy, one-too-many-days-of-dry-shampooed hair. She prays that there are no rogue grease stains on her clothes from her shop class and vows to do her laundry as soon as she gets home.

“Guys, this is my friend Ben. I don’t think you’ve met him. He refuses to come to my parties because he has a pole up his tight ass,” Poe says. Ben has now walked up to the table, looking cool and calm in a way that makes her want to die.

“Ugh, hi Poe,” He says curtly. Rey thinks for one minute that perhaps he doesn’t recognize her, probably from lack of throwing daggers with his eyes at her during class, but it proved wrong. “Rey,” Ben says nodding towards her.

“Hey,” Rey says, voice breathless.

“How do you know each other?” Poe asks, taking another sip from his cup. Rey resist the urge to slap it out of his hands.

“Rey is in Ashoka Tano’s class that I’m helping out in,” Ben explains.

“Oh, the one where that guys keeps stealing your seat?” Finn pipes up. Rey would very much like armageddon to happen right. fucking. now.

“That was actually just a misunderstanding on my part! Not a big deal really; we sorted it out,” Rey pipes up, her voice octavos higher than usual. Both Finn and Poe give her an odd look, but ben just chuckles. “Um, how do you know Poe?” She asks Ben.

Ben opens his mouth to start explaining, but Poe beats him to it. “Oh, Benny and I go way back. Our parents are old friends. How’s your Mom doing? I haven’t seen her around the office for a few days.”

“She’s fine. Vacation with my Dad for their anniversary,” Ben says.

“I thought they were divorced?” Poe asks.

“They are.” Ben’s deadpan voice makes Rey let out a nervous chuckle.

After a tense moment Finn clears his voice and Poe pipes back up. “This is our friend Finn. You’d of met him already if you ever answered any of my texts.” A terse silence falls over the group after Finn and Ben shake hands, and Ben looks down at her, mirroring Rey’s discomfort.

“Well, I’ll… see you around then,” Ben nods before walking off. Rey wants desperately to get back to studying, but leave it to Poe not to know when to shut up.

“That was weird.” He looks over at Rey. “Why was it so weird between you two?”

Rey huffs, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s not weird between us.”

“Um, yes it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It totally is-”

“Are you five years old? It’s not weird and that’s that.”

“Ooookayyyy…” Poe drawls.

Rey tries to focus on her work, but can’t help and glance over to where Ben wandered off. She wonders if Poe was right, if it was weird. It shouldn’t be, should it? The air was clear, the seat stealing was all but forgotten, they even had a little flirt.

But it does feel weird, although she’ll never admit that to Poe.

Rey decides that no work will get done under these conditions and begins to pack up.

“Where are you going?” Finn asks when she shuts her laptop.

“I’m just not in a studying mood right now.”

“Rey-Rey, is this about the thing with Ben? I’m sorry for bringing it up-“

“It’s really not, Poe. No worries, really.” Finn and Poe share an unconvinced look so Rey gives them her best mega-watt smile to appease the situation. She thinks, perhaps, that it just makes her look like a lunatic.

“Okay, well… we’ll see you at home?” Finn asks. Rey flashes him a thumbs up before marching on.

A quick detour later, Rey finds Ben on the second floor in the library, pouring over a book that is at least four times her age. He looks every bit the studious literature professor that could be found in the library at four o’clock on a Friday night. She tries not to find it so endearing.

As she approaches him, Ben looks up at her and a wide smile spreads across his face. She tries not to find that so endearing as well. (She fails spectacularly.)

“Hi,” He breathes. Rey stick out the small paper bag in her grasp. Ben’s brow knits in confusion.

“It’s an apology scone,” Rey clarifies.

“That’s really unnecessary, Rey, honestly-”

“Actually it is necessary, for me, at least. I was very mean to you in my head, like shakespearian-level-insults-mean. You accepting this would help ease my mind tremendously. It’s really more of a favor to me, so: take it.” She pushes the bag even closer to him.

Ben laughs, a real, hearty laugh that makes something in Rey sing.

“I’d hate for you to live with this guilt, so,” Ben takes the package, “thank you.”

Rey beams at him. She’s overcome with the urge to sit down next to him and tell him about her day then ask him every question she could possibly think of when she realizes that she did not plan this far.

Obtain apology scone: check.

Present apology scone: check.

Her fool proof plan did not account for how much she didn’t want to leave after giving him said scone, so now she’s standing next to him unsure of her next move.

“Do you wanna…?” Ben gestures vaguely to the table and Rey is seated across from him before he can finish speaking. She hopes the little chuckle he gives is more at her actions than at her.

“Are you a grad student?” Rey asks, desperate to move on from the long, awkward pauses that seem to plague her day.

“PhD candidate, actually. In literature. Thats why I’m assisting Dr. Tano,” He explains.

“Oh wow. How long does that track take?”

“About four years to complete just for the doctoral. I have about a year left.”

“Me too! I mean, in undergrad. Not PhD. I don’t think I could handle another four years of school.”

“What’s your major?”

“Civil Engineering.”

Ben’s eyebrows raise. “Very impressive.”

“It’s really not… but thanks. I’m not sure Professor Skywalker would agree,” Rey laughs. A darkness crosses Ben’s face that make something twist unpleasantly in Rey’s gut.

“That’s not surprising.” Ben says, voice low. This would be an excellent time to practice the self-restraint Rey is always meaning to work on, but her mouth works before her brain does.

“You know him, too? Professor Skywalker?” She ask.

“Ugh, yeah. He’s my uncle.”

Rey is sure her confused face is, in fact, the least attractive thing she could be doing right now, but she can’t quite help it.

“Wow, that’s… crazy that we’ve never met before. I mean- we pretty much run in the same circles,” Rey says. Ben runs a hand through his hair and shrugs.

“I don’t really hang out with them… or anyone, really. They all were pretty pissed when I chose FO instead of Chandrila for undergrad.”

Oh.

“Oh.” The silence is awkward but she’d choose that instead of automatic reaction of calling him a villainous, uncaring, republican snake that she assumes everyone who comes out of First Order University is.

But he’s not. He’s Ben. Her mentor’s nephew. Her best friend’s childhood friend. Her favorite teachers TA. The guy who has been super cool and nice when he could’ve been a total and complete ass and gotten away with it.

“Well, it’s nice that you came back. You should, you know. Hang out with them again, I mean.”

“You think?” He looks at her cockeyed, and Rey hopes she’s not blushing too hard when she responds.

“Yeah! Because… I hand out with them. So we could hang out, together. It would be… nice.”

Rey swears she sees the tips of his ear turn red and is unable to kid herself on how endearing she finds that.

“Yeah… nice.”

They look at each other for a long moment and Rey tries to ignore the plushness of his lips and constellation of moles and the twitch in his lips that she’s come to assume his his version of smiling.

And then, once more, a bomb.

“Ah, there you are Ben! Do you have the 100 level assessments from last week?” Dr. Tano’s voice breaks them out of their reverie and Ben begins to shuffle through his meticulously organized folders. “Oh, good evening Ms. Niima.”

Rey swallows the lump in her throat. Dr. Tano doesn’t seem to notice anything going on between Ben and herself, not that there is anything going on, but Rey still feels like the kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Ms. Niima were just going over her midterm,” Ben lies as he hands Dr. Tano a stack of papers. Based on his response, at least Rey knows Ben feels the same way.

“That’s very admirable of you, Ms. Niima. But don’t let Ben take up too much of your Friday night,” Dr. Tano says. Rey laughs a little too hard and it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“I was just leaving actually… I’ll see you in class, Dr. Tano. Um… goodnight.” Rey quickly swings her backpack on and shoves the chair back under the table before either of them have a chance to respond.

Rey does spare a glance back towards Ben when she reaches the door. Dr. Tano is speaking to him, something probably important, but Ben is focused on her.

She exits library and tries to pretend that the clenching she feels in her heart is just temporary and has nothing to do with Ben.

(Unfortunately, Rey is smart enough to know it does.)

#reylo #kylo ren x rey #ben solo x rey #kylo ren #ben solo #rey #adam driver #daisy ridley #sw #star wars #fan fiction #my work

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bitchesgetriches · 6 years ago

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Hi Bitches! I have a great job at a family law firm that I love. It’s intended to be a bridge job between college and grad school. I originally wasn’t hired, but the first candidate took the job and then quit 3 days in, so they offered it to me. The admin later confided in me that the first girl was chosen because she went to an ivy league and I didn’t despite my better qualifications, and that I’m also the first person they’d ever hired who didn’t go to a “prestigious” college. (1)

I’m good at my job and have an excellent rapport with my bosses, and I’m (hopefully) leaving next year for my JD. I want to find a way to kindly point out that it’s INCREDIBLY classist to base hires off of what’s essentially your grades from ages 14-18 and whether your family can afford a “good school”, because the pay is very high for the actual job responsibilities, and it could definitely mean the difference for someone with less money being able to afford grad school. (2)

Any advice on how to tactfully bring it up? I’m in San Francisco and we discuss politics a lot at work, so I know they believe in diversity and aren’t assholes — my suspicion is that since it’s a family firm and they grew up wealthy it’s just ignorance. Thanks! (3)What an interesting question! I suspect that since the Ivy League candidate couldn’t hack it and you, with your less impressive pedigree but damn fine work ethic could, they’ve probably learned their lesson. Or at least realized the error of their ways.

But just in case they haven’t, I do think there’s a way to use several devastating battle tactics to make your point AND make a difference. You shall be as a vengeful Valkyrie upon the field of death, dispensing justice and bettering the world, one fancy law firm at a time!

First, kill them with kindness. Before you move on to get your JD, sit down with your bosses/the company leadership for a personal meeting. Say something like this:

“I just want to sincerely thank you for taking a chance on me. It’s opportunities like these that can really lift up someone who wasn’t born with a lot of advantages. The training and compensation truly makes the difference for someone from my background in being able to further my career and afford grad school. You know, I was worried before you hired me that coming from a lower class family and not being able to afford an Ivy League education would hold me back. But you’ve shown me that hard work, tenacity, and talent really does pay off.”

Then, activate their liberal guilt (as a wealthy liberal, I can attest this is a very effective move):

“I’m proud to say that I started my career at a law firm that is committed to breaking down classist barriers and putting its money where its mouth is when it comes to the matter of diversity in the workplace.”

Boom. Roasted.

This is just how I would handle it, but I’ve had a lot of luck over the years in correcting others’ behavior by subtly pointing out what they did right when they didn’t mean to. Killing with kindness is easier and often more effective than outright confrontation because it allows your opponent to save face. No one likes to be scolded or talked down to. But everyone likes to be complimented. And you can be damn sure they’ll remember how their first choice candidate failed them when they’re being impressed by your poise and wisdom.

My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations

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deniigi · 6 years ago

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(Rachel) thank you for answering! no, I don't really have any specific program in mind yet, I was mostly curious about the process. my dumb high school in eastern canada has the audacity to discourage post secondary education?? my guidance counselors, who have their jobs based on one (if not two!!!) university degrees say that it's expensive and a waste of time because most grads leave the province. they just want us all to work in the lumber industry that rules the province (1/2)

RACHEL YOU STICK IT TO THE MAN SWEETHEART

Seriously, I got this same shit, time and time again from counselor after counselor and supervisor after supervisor.

So let me explain where the fuck these guys are actually coming from so you don’t have to let only spite propel you to grad school like it did me (there are slightly more healthy propellants, like passion, curiosity, genuine desire to contribute to human knowledge, etc. Altho I am 110% going to sneak ‘spite’ into my acknowledgement section in my dissertation)

Okay, so actual, real talk. Let’s talk grad school (Master’s and PhD–although hey, undergrads and finishing up hs seniors–most of this shit is applicable to y’all too)

1. These folks are saying grad school is expensive because it kind of is expensive.

To this I say: yeah, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s just gonna take a bit of work and some compromise.

So I don’t know where you’re planning on going to undergrad or what your financial aid situation is, but my whole thing is that if you can make yourself or already are eligible for a postgrad scholarship or grant, you’re already doing hella towards your being a feasible candidate for that degree. Because I had a really good GPA going into my Master’s, I was eligible for an internal grant, and then, because I worked my ass off and got a high GPA my first semester, I got a fellowship. That covered my tuition, so all I had to do was deal with my cost of living and I was comfortable with taking out a loan for my two-year program to deal with that.

I want to be clear on 2 points here: I was only able to cover my tuition with my grant and fellowship because I made the decision earlier on that I was fine, absolutely unspeakably fine doing my Master’s at a mid-tier school (a state school, as we say in California, as opposed to a private college or a UC). I personally went to a very working-class school and I was really glad I did because those first tier, Ivy Leagues, and private schools are 1. so competitive it is literally detrimental to your body and mental health. 2. FUCKING expensive–and not for any damn real reason. Listen. If you’re getting an MA or an MFA, no one gives a shit where you do your degree, it’s all about tailoring the most comfortable learning environment for yourself. I personally do not believe in that fucking elitist big-name college bullshit because there is no guarantee that a fancy, expensive-ass degree from a big-name will get you a job over someone who went to a mid-tier. It just doesn’t work like that.

Anyways, so. To make things even more affordable, I also super fucking recommend working while doing your program if possible (no more than part-time, otherwise you’re begging for burn out). Besides being able to buy burritos and not have to pinch pennies 24/7, working lets you make some friends, build professional skills, and have a break from the academic work.

2. Hella students who start grad school don’t finish it.

Or they take 2 thousand years to do it and end up crying over their nearly-finished-but-not-quite thesis at the kitchen table for approximately 2 hours every night before bed.

That kind of makes the investment of your time, money, and energy seems kind of not worth it compared to the number of doors that your postgrad degree would (or would fail to) open up to you.

So. Here’s the thing.

If you want to go to grad school, you need to tell yourself that you are in this shit to win it. You gotta give yourself some very clear guidelines and have a backup plan if shit starts going south.

All I’m saying is that you should be honest with yourself and ask yourself why you’re doing it. If it just to not pay your student loans, that’s not a good reason. If you’re doing it because you don’t want to work yet, that’s not a good reason. If you’ve never not had school and the thought of not having that to build your routine around gives you anxiety, so you think, “I’ll just do another degree, I’ll be more ready to enter the real world in 2 years” STOP. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Don’t go to fucking grad school (I swear I will get to why. Just trust me on this one for right now)

If you decide you want to go to grad school for a legitimate reason (to build skills, to be more competitive/marketable in your field, to make a contribution to human knowledge, etc.) then make a plan for yourself with a timeline and at least 2 back up life plans from the start. That way you don’t get stuck in the way too common loop of having to take year after year of extensions to finish research/writing.

And 3, and most importantly: Grad school is the WORST THING for your mental health fucking EVER.

Okay, know that I say this as a grad student two times over and that I’m not saying this to discourage you, period. I’m just saying it before some asshole throws it at your face or before you’re met with a horrible revelation.

Multiple serious studies have been done on post-graduate students and they’ve found that grad students are something like 6 times more likely to have mental health issues than the gen. population.

that sounds very scary, and I can tell you right now that it is fucking terrifying and, having survived round 1 and currently surviving in round 2 of this bullshit, it is absolutely true. I have not met a single person (and I have a huge circle of postgrad folks in my life) who has not had mental health issues appear or become triggered or worsened by their second/third degrees.

But here’s what else I will say. It takes a certain type of person to excel academically in our insane school systems and that type of person is not exactly healthy to begin with. Academics and academically minded people are kind of perfectly wired to be susceptible to mental health problems. We just want to be the best (ever. always.); we are perfectionists, we have imposter syndrome (if you’re a human–those people who don’t have this are sociopaths and you need to avoid them as much as possible).

Most of us end up with some kind of anxiety or depression, straight up. Myself included. And it can get bad. I’m not even gonna joke about that.

So again. You have to be honest with yourself and think about your boundaries, your triggers, and what services and support you have at your disposal to make this shit happen anyways.

Because we all know you’re gonna do it anyways. It’s just a matter of getting a support system in place, getting meds when you need ‘em, getting help when you need it, and knowing your limits and how to manage your self-care and burnout.

So. This has been Grad School: Full Disclosure with Matt. I hope that you/someone gets some decent, honest advice out of that.

I know it’s a little scary, but I have to emphasize that the friends I made in grad school and the kind of thinking I am now capable of doing has literally changed my life for the better and I do not regret going to grad school despite all the shit. Have not ever, will not ever.

I am a huge proponent of post-secondary edu and all I want in the world for you folks who want to do it is to help y’all do it without too much physical, mental, and financial strain on your persons, and that shit is doable so long as you go in with as much info and as practical expectations as possible.

Because that shit was absolutely worth it (to me). At the end of that road, there is nothing as amazing as looking at your degree and your thesis and your friends and skills and being proud as fuck because you fucking did that. You did. And you’re capable of so much more than you ever thought you were.

Anyways, you go Rachel. Show ‘em what’s what if that’s what makes you happy.

#not fic #long post #sorry folks #I can't not inform the youth #It is my moral responsibility #education #graduate school

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