#(unimportant job: any job that's not doctor or engineer)

[cosmic-metanoia]

Femininity Concepts in FFXVI

***Spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI***

Well, here I am again, now focusing on the female characters.

Like I did in the previous post, I will focus on the female Dominants first then highlight some secondary characters that really stood out.

*Jill - Come on, we gotta start with our beloved gal. She demonstrates this silent but strong (and even fearsome) spirit. She's very supportive of Clive but is not afraid to voice her opinions. She possesses a natural elegance and grace but demonstrates her fierce capabilities on the battlefield. She has a knack for negotiation and relating to others. We really see her unveil her dark side when she confronts her past head on in the Iron Kingdom. What's fantastic is that she asked for Clive's support and understanding but made it clear that she would be the one to face off against the Crystalline Orthodoxy's head priest (his name escapes me). Jill may not always make background commentary but her words are carefully selected and measured.

*Benedikta - She is your classic femme fatale that plays with men to further advance her position. Yet the one who she is in a love/hate relationship with is the one she can't have. She is ferocious yet what makes her different is that she contains this hidden sorrow and just wants to be genuinely loved. The way she frantically panicked when she lost her Eikon honestly brought tears to my eyes. She ended up with the wrong crowd and played this game of political chess in a room full of powerful men yet she instantly realized how useless she was to them in that moment of losing her most valuable piece.

*Side note: Let's hope that Leviathan the Lost is another female Eikon when the DLC hits in the next few months!! <3

*Jote - Okay, this awesome woman is HIGHLY underrated! She is incredibly enigmatic and we learn so much about her from the thoughts of other characters but never from her own lips! Initially players may brush her off as some unimportant maid servant but we see that she is so much more - a shield, a formidable fighter (though never witnessed!), a healer, a scout, etc. She's basically doing the jobs of Tarja, Clive, and Gav wrapped up in one! Yet her eyes give away her feelings towards Joshua and especially when she frets over his health. Yes, she longs for him but what makes it unique is that she loves him for who he is, not for what benefits his Eikon brings to the Undying that worships him.

*Mid - A freakin' prodigy. I mean, she is the head of the hideaway engineers! An occupation that is stereotypically masculine. She is 100% focused on her tasks and is not your typical 16 year old gal for sure. Her genius inventions, zest for life, and fast-talking mannerisms has all of the hideaway family wrapped around her finger (true, also because she is Cid's daughter). That whole scene with Joshua kneeling to kiss her hand upon meeting her cracked me up - she's the last woman who requires a chivalrous display but what I love is how she laughed and pulled him up and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

*Charon - What can I say, this woman does not take s--- from ANYONE. She's even intimidating to some of the men at the hideaway which is absolutely hilarious. She is a hardened woman that commands respect but has her softer side which takes time to reveal. Money is on her mind but eventually she learns that there should be more to life - using her abilities as a cunning merchant to help a cause greater than herself.

*Tarja - Like Charon, she also does not accept any B.S. and takes her job as the non-magical physicker very seriously. What's great is that she isn't a nurse but the actual (and only) doctor of the hideaway. Her extensive knowledge is incredibly valuable and the hideaway would definitely not have survived without her.

*Vivian - A woman held in high-esteem who is so focused on the garnering of knowledge that she even gets targeted by assassins. Her intelligence certainly tips the scales in favor of the Cursebreakers to gain the upper hand.

*Anabella - I have a huge post written about her but I figure it's worth mentioning a particular aspect. She possesses quite the evil ambitions and is able to persuade not just the theocratic Sanbrequois emperor but powerful men from other nations - NOT just through her looks but through her conniving strategies. She longs for a powerful legacy forged by the greatest possible noble blood and even views herself as the prized breeding cow.

Some other examples of different aspects of female characters include: Eloise who is an astute businesswoman who conducted deals and contracts while her brother Theodore (sob) became her trusted porter; Martha who is the tough protector of Martha's Rest - the Rosarians put their trust and faith in her; the same with the Northreach residents when it came to Isabelle. What's great about her is that she is a courtesan but we see her blossom into a strong and trustworthy leader that many held in high esteem.

Even the stoic Dorys is the commander of a Cursebreakers squad.

I love how the story had female characters each with their own drives and ambitions whether they were motivated by a just cause or for evil reasons.

#ff16 #ffxvi #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy xvi #ff16 spoilers #ffxvi spoilers #jill warrick #ffxvi jote #ff16 jote #ff16 tarja #anabella rosfield #benedikta harman #midadol telamon #ff16 mid

[canyouhearthelight]

Chapter 18: Social Engineering

Lights, Camera, Action! Lash and Nils go public and dare people to call their bluff. The interview goes slightly off the rails, with good reason.

@baelpenrose, as co-author and beta reader for this chapter, did a great job making sure the reporters were as 'paparazzi' as possible.

I can fake a smile

I can force a laugh

I can dance and play the part

If that's what you ask

Give you all I am

Christina Perri, “Only Human”

Lash

By the time Lucas had returned to the hospital, Mori had pulled herself together and was in full combat general mode.  Neither Nils nor I had clued her in to our plan regarding shaming the hospital into covering the cost of care for everyone involved in the fire, and I was grateful that he hadn’t mentioned it in front of her.  With her focused on our parents’ care and haranguing doctors and nurses for updates, I could focus on dealing with the reporters who were already descending on the hospital.

Nils was hovering next to me, his hand close to mine. “Important to ask because a whole lot of people are going to ask unimportant shit and we need to be on the same page to avoid idiot drama that will deflect from our goal: we’re a couple or just good friends? It doesn’t matter what our answer is as long as it’s the same one.” He took a breath. “If you don’t have the emotional bandwidth for that, easy way out is ‘we stick to whatever bullshit they feed us until the cameras go away and something else dominates the news cycle’.” 

I thought it about for a brief moment. “We’re going to be doing a lot of lying, let’s have one less to keep track of. Stick to the truth: we’re friends who recently went on our first date and you were meeting my parents when everything went down.  If someone sticks a camera in my parents’ faces later down the road, they won’t have to think to confirm that.”

He nodded. “That works well enough. Okay, so to clarify our story: The hospital admins - someone even I, with all my familiarity with the hospital staff don’t know by sight - offered this to the people injured in this crisis as a one-time matter because they recognize the extraordinary circumstances involved. They recognize the crisis in the community and have risen to the occasion. We can say some nice things about the doctors that let them share the glory the local news is going to be throwing at us because hey, local news loves a hero. Hospital will be really reluctant to give it back if they can trade for political favors later.”

“Oh, I cannot wait to hear you say nice things about your father.  On camera, where everyone can see it,” I teased, trying to bleed off some of my anxiety.  Truth be told, any anonymity I had up until now was about to be blasted out the window when we spoke to these reporters.  And I would have to use my real name, or my online persona was toast.

The thought immediately made my heart sink, tears prickling my eyes. Toast. The burned out cafe, all those lives wasted… and for what? Because some hateful asshole thought he had the right to - 

I didn’t even realize I was speaking out loud until Nils bumped me with his shoulder. “Hey. I’m not going to tell you it’s okay, because it isn’t. But right now, we can honor the dead by taking care of the living. So let’s focus, okay? We can figure out whoever did this and get it back in blood later.” He offered me his hand. “For right now though, let’s go get some debts waived.” 

He gave a very subtle gesture towards the window, where to my horror, I could already see news vans outside, prevented from accessing the building. Vultures. I took a deep breath, took his hand, and squeezed it. “We look like burn victims, right?” When he nodded, I nodded back. “Then let’s do this before someone stops us.”

The moment we stepped outside the door, hospital wristbands conspicuously visible, we were swarmed.  I played up my shock by turning slightly into Nils, shielding my eyes. Four microphones were shoved in our faces, a female voice demanding “Were you at the fire earlier this evening?”

“Yes,” I answered. “We were inside with my parents when the fire was started.”

“Are you saying the fire was deliberate?” came a male voice from behind the blinding lights on the cameras.

“Absolutely. Someone blocked the exits and threw a burning bottle of something into the cafe.”

Nils took over at that point. “Molotov cocktails. The cafe had been the victim of several attempted arsons prior to this, according to the late owner, Ahmet Yildiz, who had, by the time this last fire claimed his life, given up on getting a proper investigation. He died attempting to help evacuate his customers and community.” His voice was clear, cold, and his words managed to bring across institutional neglect without actually blaming anyone of importance.  “He wasn’t the only one.”

“We were lucky,” I choked out through a lump in my throat. “We have minor burns and some smoke inhalation, but right now my parents and many others are in surgery or the ICU.  One is in the PICU.” As that last part sank in, some of the reporters and camera people around us gasped. “And we are all the lucky ones. At least three people never made it out, and we don’t know if everyone else is going to make it.”

A burst of chatter from the back of the reporters, then one of the men in the front asked a question I’d been dreading. “Can I get you two to identify yourselves?”

“My name is Elakshi Botelho. My parents, Sahar and Lorso Botelho, are still undergoing tests and treatment.”

“And mine is Nils Andover. My father is one of the doctors in the hospital, and my mother works as a lawyer.”

“We’ve heard both of your names from other witnesses at the scene, several of whom credit the two of you with a bulk of the rescues, what exactly happened during the evacuation?” Nils’ eyes flicked towards me. 

I gave the tiniest of nods and took a deep breath. “The only exit was on fire. Nils was able to open one of the metal gates over the other exits.  He, my father, and Uncle - Mr. Yildiz helped carry people out while my mother and I wrapped everyone in whatever cloths we could wet to keep them from getting burned or inhaling smoke.  Nils and my father managed to get me and my mother out just before the cafe exploded.”  My voice was trembling towards the end, and I let the tears just roll down my cheeks. I was too tired to fight them, and it probably helped our cause anyway.

“Have you spoken with authorities about the attack?” the first woman asked.

“With all due respect, I have been more concerned about my family and my community,” I responded. “We plan to speak to authorities when they reach out.”

Nils gave my hand a small pump, as though communicating silently that I’d said the perfect thing, then responded to the next question. “What went through both your heads when the fire went up?”

“Need to exit, wait, the exit is on fire, hey the windows, wait, the windows are blocked and they’re hot, oh wait, I have a leather jacket that can protect my hands while I open them.” Nils managed to drag his normal sarcasm with a trace of entirely uncharacteristic humility as though that was a chain of thoughts that would have occurred to a normal person to describe it all so dismissively. “Following that, ‘hey, leather jackets are fire resistant, I should probably help get people out,’ and somewhere in there is ‘thank God everyone here is sane, compassionate, and also helping’.” 

He took a breath. “Genuinely though, it’s amazing how much everyone came together in the fire, her dad, the cafe owner, her, her mom, everyone just kinda went for it and tried to help as much as possible, evacuate people as fast as possible, tried to help medic as much as possible. The hospital’s risen to the occasion too, in the face of all this: they said they were going to take care of the victims of this attack without charge, and they’ve been giving the victims amazing care.” 

The reporters went wild when Nils dropped that bit of ‘news’ on them. One managed to shout above the others a question about whether Nils’ family connection to the hospital had anything to do with that decision. “Both our fathers work for the hospital,” I confirmed when I felt him jerk like he’d been shot. “But the hospital has very much made this decision out of recognition for what can only be called a heinous act of terror committed against a small community.”

“Is it appropriate for you two to apply terrorism charges to an unknown…”

Nils’ voice cut across the question, coldly. “We just walked out of a building that exploded - killing at least three people - because a bunch of people set it on fire because they didn’t like that the owner was from the Middle East, after the building had been graffitied, repeatedly, with anti-Arab racial slurs. Terrorism is ‘violence committed against civilians for political reasons’ - what the FUCK would you call this if not that?” 

I noticed that Nils left out the ‘by nonstate actors’ part from the definition of ‘terrorism.’ Regardless, murmurs rippled through the crowd.  The point had been gotten across and given them something to chew on for local reports.  The first reporter to recover decided to pursue that point. “Is there anything you would like to say to the people who are responsible for the fire?”

By this point, I was shaking with emotion and dying to go back inside and sit down in a quiet place, see my parents breathing. “You burned down a popular shop full of customers who were minding their own business. There are women dying upstairs for drinking tea and gossiping about their grandchildren.  My cousin, Imran, is dead because he was picking up pastries for his wife and daughters.  My parents are severely injured because they were there to meet the young man I had just gone on a first date with. You attacked people for being people and having lives.  You are a coward, and I hope you have every day you deserve for the rest of your life.”  In that moment, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I spun, pulling my hand free from Nils’ and storming back into the hospital.

I heard Nils answer one more question in a capacity that barely managed to conceal impatience verging on contempt - though that might have been my familiarity with him, the reporters seemed charmed - before I heard him rushing after me. 

“I think we did it, Lash. You alright?”

Brushing tears from my cheeks, I laughed bitterly. “I am the furthest thing from alright. I want to see Mama and Baba, and I want Baba’s beard to scratch my cheek when he hugs me, even though I know his face is burned and his beard is gone. I want Mama to be nosy and pat my cheek and her bracelets clatter and her rings to bump my cheekbone like they do.  I want Mori to be here to visit, not to help make sure my parents are going to survive.  I want to go get coffee and have Uncle wink at me when he sneaks me extra baklava, and I can’t have any of it.”  Without even thinking, I turned and buried my face in his chest, charred leather smell be damned.

“We’ll stay here for them, okay? We’ll be the first thing they see when they wake up. Promise. Your mom isn’t going to be long - it’ll be longer for your dad. But your mom should be coming out within an hour or two at this point.” Nils hugged me then, as though on impulse. His chin fit exactly on top of my head, and he was patient enough to let me ugly cry on him until all I was left with were sniffles and hiccups.

He said nothing about what I must look like after all that, only steadying me. “I think you need your sister right now. Let’s go find her.  She reminds me of your mom, so she probably knows exactly what to do.”

#original fiction #nihilus rex #traumatized characters #original writing #modern dystopia #afterverse #writeblr #the miys #arcadian inquisition #science fiction #original science fiction #original sci fi #my writing #friend’s writing

[epic-and-kitty]

For the ask game Twist 10, 26, 28, 36

10. How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

So, considering Twist is terrified of the hospital, she tends to be very lax in her own medical care. Especially since her only other experience with medical professionals outside of the clone facility were the ex dome Octolings living in the Salmonid camp, who were wondering why the Salmonids were wasting resources on someone who was very clearly on deaths door. (That, and the only reason her corrosive wound started healing at all was after a new Octoling recruit stabbed her in the neck with a syringe of reverse engineered Sanitized ink, so again, she doesn't trust doctors) She faints on the field during turf and waves off teammates wanting to call a medic for her. She has been flattened by a bunch of heavy beams and RAN when people tried to get her into an ambulance. The only time she's ever gotten professional medical care for her wounds is when Xero's girlfriend Zee, an ex Octarian Field Medic, treated her, and that was only after she was pinned by the other three Agents AND ORCA (it literally strapped her feet to the ground and she still tried to run) Usually, Twist treats her own wounds, but because of her high durability, she tends to miscalculate just how much care she needs. Often going back out in public still visibly injured because she just can't feel the wound anymore. And then she has the gall to wonder why her friends are constantly worried about her.

26. How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

Twist is very polite, it's her table manners that are atrocious. Since she was raised with Salmonids, it's considered rude to the cook to not absolutely destroy whatever you're eating in the most messy way possible. And Twist is a very polite honorary Salmonid. She has scared people with how absolutely FERAL she goes over food.

However, she's very polite otherwise, holding doors open for older people, complimenting people regularly, pleases and thank yous, all of that.

Just give her some leeway if she looks like she literally murdered her tuna steak at the fancy restaurant; she's trying to learn table manners, honest!

28. What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? On their tiptoe, the sides or heels of their feet? How loud are their footsteps?

Twist is used to walking fast due to her salvaging job, and she tends to have long paces to keep up with people since she's so short. She's duck footed, but otherwise quiet. People don't tend to hear her coming unless they have trained their ears to listen in for soft noises (like Skull, no matter what, even if she tries, Twist can't sneak up on him)

She can also comfortably walk/run on all fours, and she's notably faster than on two legs

36. How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions

She tends to be stubborn, but will usually go with the flow for most things. There are things that are near impossible to change her opinion on, like ever working for Grizzco unless in absolutely dire need (Big Runs are an exception, considering that Twist's family does not participate in them and are probably the ones warning Splatsville about them to keep their trade agreement going with the city)

Most of the time though, her stubbornness is just petty and unimportant, like refusing to stop wearing socks and sandals or keeping all her charms on her Sploosh despite it definitely being past the regulated limit for battles

#Answered asks #Ask meme #Ask game #OC Twist #Itsmaddienow #Thanks for the ask! #Splatoon #Sorry this is so long I got into it

[damianogender]

i love how Math People™ all collectively lack basic comprehension and communication skills and yet understand each other perfectly:

-the only two messages in the group chat-

17 august: if everything goes as planned, face to face education will be starting on 31 august

23 august: the classes will be starting at 13.00

APPARENTLY, i'm the only one who thought the classes will start on 31 august and not 24 august

#oops forgot to post this #btw all of my friends and a majority of my teachers are ''math people'' #so lemme explain what a math person is #it's not when you're good/excel at maths. i'm also good at maths. #no a math person is someone whose whole academic success revolves around math and looks down at social sciences/lit/language etc. #an average math person claims that those classes are 'too boring' and 'too much memorizing' and says they'd excel at them if they studied #but we all know that isn't true don't we? as you've made 3 grammar mistakes and misused 5 words while saying these #they're ''boring'' and ''just memorizing things'' because you don't get them. #they're ''simple if u study but i dont bc i don't like them. they aren't important anyway'' bc u need an excuse for ur inadequate knowledge #also let me give you a secret: (speaking for our ed system) math is the subject that requires the most memorizing #you can't excel at math unless you CONSTANTLY solve questions + what do u do with formulas exactly? do u go through its proof everytime? #what they're doing is literally memorizing question types so they can solve them faster. mind you given enough time Anyone can solve them #the thing that makes them excel at math is their speed which is experience = basically memorizing questions or muscle memory at this point #plus i know it's nothing to brag about but i don't study regularly for anything and yet the only classes i get bad grades are math and chem #and i think it speaks enough for itself (bUt whAt abOuT cHEm? it used to be my fav then i didnt understand mole & now im horrible at it ok? #anyway this was a looong rant but i've spent 3 years among these people who looked down at me bc of my math grades #and bc i'm actually good at & enjoy 'unimportant classes'. yeah. they're Like That. idk who raised them. #''ur math grades are low and you're good at social sciences why don't u like be a [insert 'unimportant job' here]'' #(unimportant job: any job that's not doctor or engineer) #like i'm totally fine with those jobs and some of them are right i WOULD make a good psychologist or lawyer or whatever #what makes me mad is that they look down to those jobs and basically tell me that i couldn't pull off being a doctor or engineer #''so just... you know... i think you should consider these jobs. u don't like math anyway right? u wouldnt like engineering'' #lets get one thing straight: i like math itself. i dont like Math Class (&i hate the education sytem overall but thats another conversation #ok i'm done finally. but am i wrong to rant this much??? DO U KNOW HOW INFURIATING IT IS TO BE CONSTANTLY AROUND THESE PEOPLE #look (again nothing to brag but) i'm like zuko level obsessed with pride and honor but these guys are just testing me. #haha stfu and stop acting like you're better than me i'll literally make you eat your own spine :) ❤ #you can't even properly speak your own fucking language!!!!! :))) #please tell me you didn't read all this

[meetthetf2hacker]

Excuse me, can I ask you one more time? I want to know about relationship hacker with her team.🥺

Hoo boy, that's a loaded question! For the sake of brevity, I’ll take the question literally and only describe how Hacker feels about her teammates and not the other way around. For the TL;DR answer, here's a chart:

More in-depth explanations under the cut! I tried to keep each merc at a paragraph long so it’d be more digestible.

SCOUT

At first, Hacker couldn't stand Scout. He's arrogant, obnoxious, and chatty—all things that irritate her. Though she won't admit it, something stirs in her when he compliments her work, and their synergy in team fights gives her a rush like nothing else. She gets the sense that under his macho bravado, he can be a genuinely cool guy. If he would just stop trying to impress everyone, they could be much closer. 

SOLDIER 

He is, without a doubt, the single least rational human being Hacker's ever encountered. The inner workings of his mind are an utter enigma to her, and she's given up trying to understand. That being said, she appreciates his out-of-the-box thinking when she's looking for a sparring partner. He keeps her on her toes! 

PYRO

Hacker and Pyro have limited interactions on the field. Off the field, she confides a great deal in them. When she feels frustrated or upset, she can count on Pyro to keep her secrets. Honestly, she's not even sure they understand everything she says. Whether they can or not is unimportant. In return, she participates in whatever games or other activities they pull her into.

DEMOMAN 

She and Demo are on friendly terms! He encourages her to "loosen up" so she might get along better with the other mercs. Hacker takes his advice with a grain of salt, though. She feels like he'd be more effective on and off the field if he'd sober up, but she won’t deny that he’s brilliant at what he does. If she’s in a good mood and doesn’t have a lot of work to do, she’ll sit and have a couple of drinks with him. 

HEAVY 

Being as tall and broad as he is, Hacker would be lying if she said Heavy didn't intimidate her a little. However, she recognizes that as long as you don't go out of your way to provoke him, he's not a threat. She's inclined to listen to him more than some of the other mercs, since he doesn't often speak unless he has something important to say. Since he's gotten her out of a fair few sticky situations, she figures she owes him, and she doesn't argue with him the same way she does with the others if he tells her to do something. 

ENGINEER

From the moment they met, she clicked with him, and now thinks of him as like a fun uncle type of figure. Hacker might not have the same level of education he does, but their respective fields intersect with each other a lot, so she spends a lot of time in his workshop talking to him. She holds his word in high regard and trusts him more than almost any other merc. She relies on him quite a bit for support and advice off the field.

SNIPER 

Their relationship is characterized more by what they don't say rather than what they do. When things at the base get too hectic, Hacker will hide away in his watchtower, where they can sit and appreciate the silence together. When she discovered that their music tastes had a lot of overlap, she became interested in getting to know him better. Unfortunately, she respects him too much as a professional and fears that he’s not interested in a more personal relationship with her.

SPY 

From the outside looking in, it looks like rivalry, since they're both exemplary assassins in their own right. Their jobs are similar, and thus, they cross paths and work together often. If asked, they’ll freely admit that they loathe each other. Hacker finds Spy to be old-fashioned, snobby, and superficial, concerned more with appearances than results. They can't share a space for long before they start arguing. 

MEDIC

And rounding everything off, the only merc that genuinely scares Hacker. She's never been a fan of visits to the doctor's office, and the fact that Medic is more than a little unhinged doesn't improve her outlook. It makes her nervous every time she has to see him for any health-related matter. She gives him a wide berth and does her best to keep their interactions short. The last thing she wants is to piss him off and wake up with a couple of organs missing.

#sorry i took so long to get to this! #answers #lazyblueandpinkcloud #tf2 #tf2 oc #tf2 10th class #tf2 hacker #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 medic

[carcino-generic]

HOW HUMANS ARE HAVING THEIR LIVES RUINED BY KARKAT VANTAS

[plain text]

ALRIGHT, HERE’S THE BASICS OF CAPITALISM FROM A WORKING CLASS AMERICAN. I WANT TO START OUT BY SAYING I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT EUROPE, CANADA, AUSTRALIA, OR ANY OTHER “FIRST-WORLD��� COUNTRIES. I DON’T KNOW WHO TORIES ARE AND I DON’T CARE ABOUT EMMANUEL MACRON. FOREIGN AFFAIRS ARE NOT MY CUP OF TEA THANKS. I HAVE ENOUGH PROBLEMS WITH DOMESTIC POLITICS. ALSO DON’T GET ON MY ASS ABOUT CALLING IT AMERICA INSTEAD OF THE U.S.A., CANADIANS DON’T ACTUALLY WANT TO BE AMERICANS AND IF THEY DO THEY’RE MORONS FOR REASONS THAT WILL BECOME CLEAR AS YOU READ ON. 

YOU KNOW HOW IN A NORMAL SOCIETY, TRADE IS DRIVEN BY RESOURCES AND PRICES ARE DETERMINED BY THE AVAILABILITY, COMPLEXITY, AND DIFFICULTY IN PRODUCTION OF A PRODUCT? SO IMAGINE YOUR COUNTRY GETS ENOUGH MONEY, POWER, AND SHEER BLIND DEVOTION FROM ITS CITIZENS TO THROW ALL THAT IN THE GARBAGE, AND THEN IMAGINE THAT EVERYONE CAPABLE OF MAKING MEANINGFUL CHANGES AT A FUNDAMENTAL LEVEL, WHILE REMAINING WITHIN THE CURRENT SYSTEM, IS OWNED BY SOMEONE WHO BENEFITS EGREGIOUSLY FROM EVERYTHING STAYING THE SAME, AND EVEN MORE EGREGIOUSLY FROM THINGS BECOMING WORSE. NOW IMAGINE THAT WHEN I SAID “SOMEONE” I MEANT “ONE OF MAYBE FIFTEEN MEGA-CORPORATIONS THAT OWNS EVERY OTHER BUSINESS IN THE COUNTRY,” AND WHEN I SAY “EVERYONE CAPABLE OF MAKING MEANINGFUL CHANGES...” I MEAN POLITICIANS WE ELECT TO PRETEND TO REPRESENT OUR INTERESTS WHO HAVE IN REALITY BEEN BOUGHT OUT BY CORPORATE INTERESTS AND RISK LOSING THEIR JOBS IF THEY MAKE LAWS THAT THREATEN THOSE CORPORATE INTERESTS’ BOTTOM LINES. BASICALLY, WE INVESTED ALL OUR POWER INTO PRIVATELY OWNED MONEY SINKS AND FORGOT TO CARE ABOUT THE THINGS THAT MATTER, LIKE THE ACTUAL CITIZENS? OKAY THIS IS GETTING AWAY FROM ME, WE MIGHT HAVE TO START FROM THE BASICS. 

I DON’T KNOW HOW YOUR SOCIETY WORKS, BUT IN OURS, YOU START OUT AS A LITTLE BABY. AS SOON AS YOU’RE PHYSIOLOGICALLY CAPABLE OF EXISTING FOR CONSECUTIVE HOURS WITHOUT THE PEOPLE WHO RAISED YOU, THEY SHOVE YOU IN A CLASSROOM AND START FEEDING YOU A MIXTURE OF COLONIAL, PSYCHOLOGICAL, PHILOSOPHICAL, AND POLITICAL PROPAGANDA. THAT’S ALSO WHERE THEY TEACH YOU HOW TO SOCIALIZE WITH KIDS YOUR AGE AND SHIT. FOR SOME KIDS IT’S THE *ONLY* PLACE THEY CAN LEARN TO SOCIALIZE, BECAUSE THEIR PARENTS ARE TOO BUSY, ABSENT, OR PROTECTIVE TO BRING YOU OUT TO INTERACT WITH PEERS. EITHER WAY, THIS IS WHERE KIDS FORM THEIR CONCEPTS OF BOTH PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS AND SOCIAL CONTRACTS. THE TRAUMA OF RACIAL AND GENDER PROFILING IS NASCENT HERE, BUT OH BOY IT INTERNALIZES QUICKLY. (MORE ON HOW PEOPLE OF COLOR, THE WAR ON DRUGS, AND PROFIT ARE ALL LINKED LATER ON, OR MAYBE JUST LOOK UP A VIDEO ESSAY ON IT IDK.) 

IT’S PRETTY MUCH THIRTEEN YEARS OF THIS SAME SHIT, ESPECIALLY THE PROPAGANDA BIT. KIDS GROW UP BEING INDOCTRINATED WITH THIS COMPLETELY WHITEWASHED VERSION OF REALITY, BELIEVING CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS* IS THE SHIT AND CAPITALISM IS THE ONLY EFFICIENT MODEL FOR MODERN SOCIETY. THEY’RE USUALLY TAUGHT ALL ABOUT WORLD WARS I AND II, THE VIETNAM WAR, THE COLD WAR, AND THE SPACE RACE, WHICH (BY UNEQUIVOCALLY POSING AMERICANS AS THE GOOD GUYS AND THE SOVIETS AND CHINESE AS THE BAD GUYS,  CEMENTS THE CONCEPT THAT CAPITALISM INHERENTLY RULES AND COMMUNISM INHERENTLY FAILS) FURTHER INDOCTRINATES KIDS. IF YOU’RE REALLY AN ALIEN I DOUBT YOU’VE SEEN THIS IMAGE, BUT EVERY SINGLE AMERICAN EARTHLING HAS:

THIS GUY IS NAMED UNCLE SAM, HE’S BASICALLY AMERICA’S FURSONA. HE EXISTS TO PRESSURE YOU INTO SIGNING UP TO FIGHT IN A WAR. HE WAS USED A LOT IN THOSE WARS I TALKED ABOUT UP THERE, ESPECIALLY THE FIRST THREE. HE’S NOT AROUND SO MUCH ANY MORE BUT THE GENERAL SENTIMENT IS. HERE’S HOW. 

WHEN YOU GRADUATE FROM HIGH SCHOOL, THE LAST “REQUIRED” STAGE OF SCHOOL, YOU ARE EXPECTED TO MOVE OUT AND GET A JOB TO SUPPORT YOURSELF. BUT NOWADAYS, IF YOU WANT A JOB THAT PAYS FOR YOUR HEALTH CARE, LETS YOU STAY HOME WHEN YOU GET SICK, GIVES YOU DAYS OFF TO GO TO FAMILY EVENTS SUCH AS WEDDINGS, FUNERALS, THE BIRTH OF YOUR CHILDREN, AND OTHER UNIMPORTANT DRIVEL THAT DOESN’T MAKE CEOS MONEY, YOU BET YOUR ASS YOU’D BETTER GET A COLLEGE DEGREE. HAVING A DEGREE IS THE NUMBER ONE WAY YOU CAN GUARANTEE THAT YOU MAKE MORE MONEY. THAT ALL SOUNDS FINE AND DANDY, EXCEPT NOW YOU HAVE TO PAY SOME INDUSTRIAL-SCALE LOAN SHARK MORE THAN YOU’LL EVER HAVE IN YOUR 401(K) TO LET YOU GET YOUR HIGHER EDUCATION. A LOT OF PEOPLE END UP OWING UPWARDS OF FIFTY GRAND TO A PRIVATELY OWNED LOAN AGENCY BY THE TIME THEY’RE TWENTY-ONE, BECAUSE AS FRESH ADULTS THEY WERE TOLD THEY WOULDN’T GET A WORTHWHILE JOB UNLESS THEY HAD A DEGREE. BUT HERE’S THE THING: A LOT OF TIMES, JOBS LIKE THAT WON’T EVEN HIRE YOU UNLESS YOU HAVE A MASTER’S DEGREE NOW! THAT’S ANOTHER TWO YEARS OF CLASSES AND ANOTHER HUGE CHUNK OF MONEY YOU NEVER HAD TO BEGIN WITH. 

OF COURSE THERE ARE LESS EXPENSIVE OPTIONS, LIKE TRADE SCHOOL AND COMMUNITY COLLEGE. BUT REMEMBER THE PROPAGANDA I MENTIONED? IT’S SO PERVASIVE, A LOT OF YOUNG PEOPLE DON’T EVEN CONSIDER TRADE SCHOOL AN OPTION NOW, BECAUSE WE CULTURALLY VALUE THE “INTELLECTUAL” JOBS—DOCTOR, LAWYER, ENGINEER, ACCOUNTANT, BUSINESSMAN—WHICH ARE STRANGELY ALSO THE CAREER PATHS THAT REQUIRE THE MOST INVESTMENT OF TIME AND MONEY! NOW IF YOU DECIDE TO BE LIKE ME AND GET A JOB RIGHT OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL BECAUSE THE EDUCATION INDUSTRY IS A PUTRID WASTELAND, YOU’RE AUTOMATICALLY LOOKED DOWN UPON. A LOT OF TIMES PEOPLE WHO ARE PURSUING LESS LUCRATIVE CAREERS THAT INTEREST THEM***, INSTEAD OF THE BIG MONEY JOBS, ARE DISPARAGINGLY ASKED IF THEY WANT TO “END UP WORKING AT MCDONALDS.” I DON’T PERSONALLY WORK AT MCDONALDS BUT THIS SHIT STILL OFFENDS ME. BUT THEN AGAIN I’M A MILLENNIAL SNOWFLAKE SO WHAT DO I KNOW. 

ACADEMIA HAS A LOT OF ITS OWN PROBLEMS BUT I’VE ONLY HEARD THOSE SECONDHAND, SO LET’S LEAVE THAT HELLSCAPE TO ITS ELITISM AND STAY WITHIN THE BLUE-COLLAR SUBCLASS. COMMON PARLANCE WILL REFER TO THREE MAJOR CLASSES: THE LOWER CLASS (DIPLOMATICALLY CALLED THE “WORKING CLASS”, HA FUCKING HA!), THE MIDDLE CLASS (WHICH THEORETICALLY MAKES UP THE MAJORITY OF THE POPULATION), AND THE UPPER CLASS (FUCK THOSE GUYS BUT WE’LL GET AROUND TO THAT LATER.) THIS MODEL IS PRETTY MUCH JUST DESIGNED TO CREATE TENSION WITHIN THE PROLETARIAT, BUT HANG ON A SECOND, I JUST REMEMBERED YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THE PROLETARIAT IS YET. 

SO BASICALLY, THERE’S NOT THAT MUCH DEFINABLE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE “MIDDLE CLASS” AND THE “WORKING CLASS.” WHEN YOU THINK OF WORKING CLASS, COLLOQUIALLY, YOU THINK OF THOSE LOSERS THAT WORK IN THE SERVICE INDUSTRY OR DRIVE TAXIS OR (AND THIS IS INCOMPREHENSIBLE TO SOME PEOPLE) HAVE NO JOB AT ALL. THE MIDDLE CLASS IS MORE LIKE TEACHERS AND MIDDLE MANAGERS AND GUYS THAT BUILD SOFTWARE REMOTELY FOR MICROSOFT. REALLY THOUGH, THERE’S NO WAY TO DRAW A DEFINITIVE LINE BETWEEN THESE PEOPLE. THE BEST WAY TO DEFINE CLASS IN AMERICA, (AND ALSO APPARENTLY GERMANY, AT LEAST IN THE 19TH CENTURY,) IS TO SEPARATE THOSE WHO PRODUCE GOODS AND THOSE WHO OWN THE GOODS THAT ARE PRODUCED. THERE IS NO “MIDDLE CLASS”, THAT’S JUST A MEANINGLESS THING TO STRIVE FOR BASED ON WHAT WHITE FAMILIES IN SITCOMS LOOK AND ACT LIKE. 

WORKERS WHO PRODUCE GOODS AND SERVICES ARE THE BACKBONE OF SOCIETY AND THEY’RE CALLED THE PROLETARIAT. THEY ARE SERVICE WORKERS AND JANITORS AND TAXI DRIVERS AND HOTEL VALETS, BUT THEY ARE ALSO ELECTRICIANS AND PLUMBERS AND MECHANICS, AND THEY ARE LAWYERS AND DOCTORS AND PROFESSORS, AND THEY ARE YOUTUBERS AND INFLUENCERS AND SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS. THE PROLETARIAT IS ANYONE WHO MAKES MONEY BY SELLING THEIR LABOR. THEY CAN BE CONTRACTORS SELLING THEIR LABOR TO INDEPENDENT BUYERS, OR FREELANCERS SELLING THEIR LABOR TO MULTIPLE LARGER BUSINESSES, BUT MOST OF THE PROLETARIAT IS DIRECTLY EMPLOYED BY SOME KIND OF COMPANY OWNED BY A MEMBER OF THE BOURGEOISIE. 

THE BOURGEOISIE IS KIND OF A MEME AT THIS POINT BUT THEIR IMPACT ON THE WAY WE LIVE IS FUCKING INESCAPABLE. THEY’RE PEOPLE WHO *BUY* OUR LABOR, ACCRUE CAPITAL BY SITTING ON THEIR (SOMETIMES LITERAL!!!) THRONES, OWNING COMPANIES AND PEOPLE, SOMETIMES BEING A PUBLIC FIGURE (LIKE ELON MUSK) WHO RAKES IN ADORATION FROM HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF MINDLESS TWITTER DRONES WHO STILL BELIEVE IN CLASS MOBILITY****, OR SOMETIMES BEING A SHADOWY FIGURE IN THE BACKGROUND (LIKE THE KOCH BROTHERS) WHO JUST PASSIVELY RAKE IN THE BENEFITS OF OUR HARD WORK AND CAN’T BE ASSASSINATED BECAUSE NO ONE WOULD RECOGNIZE THEM IF THEY WERE SEEN AT KROGER. THEY ARE USUALLY BORN WEALTHY, BUT VERY RARELY THEY CAN USE THEIR CHARISMA, INTELLIGENCE, SOCIAL CONNECTIONS, AND INTRINSIC PRIVILEGE AS A WHITE PERSON TO YANK THEMSELVES UP FROM THE PROLETARIAT (READ MY CLASS MOBILITY NOTE FOR MORE!!!) 

SO THE RESULT OF THIS CLASS DIVISION IS AS FOLLOWS: 

THE PROLETARIAT NEVER EARNS THE ACTUAL VALUE OF THEIR LABOR. A “SMALL” CHUNK IS ALWAYS TAKEN OUT FOR THE PEOPLE AT THE TOP, WHO “RUN” THE COMPANY (BUT REALLY THEIR JOB IS USUALLY TO EAT FANCY LUNCH AND TELL RACIST GOLF JOKES TO RICH INVESTORS). IN FACT, WAGES ARE USUALLY ENTIRELY DISSOCIATED FROM THE ACTUAL PROFIT THE COMPANY MAKES. FOR A BUSINESS TO BE PROFITABLE, IT HAS TO PAY THE EMPLOYEES IT RELIES ON LESS THAN WHAT THEY BRING TO THE TABLE, WHICH MEANS MOST COMPANIES ESTABLISH A BASE WAGE THAT’S EITHER EXACTLY THE STATE’S MINIMUM WAGE OR A COUPLE CENTS HIGHER TO COMPETE. THEY LITERALLY PAY THE LEAST THEY LEGALLY CAN. SOMETIMES *LESS*.

YOUR JOB IS EXPECTED TO BE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE. EXHAUSTED AFTER YOUR FORTY, FIFTY, OR SIXTY HOUR WORK WEEK? THAT’S JUST NORMAL, THEY’RE NOT SQUEEZING THE MAXIMUM AMOUNT OF LABOR OUT OF YOU THAT THEY CAN WITHOUT KILLING YOU! WANT TO TAKE A FEW DAYS OFF TO SPEND TIME WITH YOUR WIFE AFTER SHE GAVE BIRTH TO YOUR INFANT CHILD? SORRY, YOU’RE OUT OF SICK DAYS. MISSED THE BUS AND THERE’S NOT ANOTHER ONE FOR AN HOUR? IT’S YOUR FAULT FOR NOT HAVING A CAR OR SPENDING FIFTY BUCKS ON AN UBER. TRYING TO GO TO YOUR FIFTH FAMILY FUNERAL BECAUSE ALL YOUR RELATIVES ARE DROPPING LIKE FLIES AFTER A HARD SIXTY YEARS OF LABOR? OOH, SORRY, YOU ONLY GET FOUR FUNERAL DAYS A YEAR! NEED TO GET ANOTHER JOB BECAUSE YOUR CURRENT ONE DOESN’T PAY ENOUGH? WELL, YOU FORGOT TO DISCLOSE IT TO YOUR BOSS AND THEY FIRED YOU FOR TWO-TIMING THEM! A JOB IS MORE OF A COMMITMENT THAN A SPOUSE, AND IF YOU HAVE OTHER PRIORITIES, YOU WON’T LAST LONG. 

BECAUSE THE BOURGEOISIE OWNS SERVICES THAT SHOULD BE PROVIDED BY THE GOVERNMENT, LIKE HEALTHCARE, HOME AND AUTO INSURANCE, A LOT OF HIGHER EDUCATION ESTABLISHMENTS, CREDIT BUREAUS, LOAN COMPANIES, AND HOSPITALS, PROFIT IS THE MOTIVE THERE TOO! WHICH MEANS IF YOU HAVE ANY KIND OF INSURANCE, NEED TO BUY A HOUSE OR A CAR, WANT OR NEED AN EDUCATION, ARE CHRONICALLY ILL, OR JUST EXIST ON A GENERAL BASIS, COMPANIES ARE RIPPING YOU OFF. YOU ARE BASICALLY PAYING THOUSANDS A MONTH FOR THE CHANCE TO GET *SOME* OF YOUR MASSIVE HOSPITAL BILL COVERED IF YOU GET IN AN ACCIDENT. THIS ONE IS NEAR AND DEAR TO ME. FOR UNIMPORTANT REASONS, I MANAGE TO RACK UP A LOT OF DEBT EVERY YEAR GOING TO HOSPITALS AND URGENT CARE, CALLING AMBULANCES, PAYING FOR MEDICATION THAT DOESN’T WORK. DID YOU KNOW YOU’RE CHARGED NIGHTLY TO STAY IN HOSPITALS LIKE THEY’RE GODDAMN HOTELS? LIKE IT’S A FUCKING VACATION? AND DID YOU KNOW THE BILLING DEPARTMENTS OF EACH OF THESE PRIVATELY OWNED ESTABLISHMENTS IS MADE UP OF UNDERPAID, OVERSTRESSED MEMBERS OF THE PROLETARIAT WHOSE JOB IS TO FUCK UP YOUR BILL SO YOU OWE MORE THAN YOUR VISIT ACTUALLY COST? 

MEDICAL FACILITIES ARE ALSO PUSHED TO SELL OVERPRICED DRUGS THAT DON’T WORK TO PEOPLE. HEADS UP, GUYS, BUT ANTIBIOTICS DON’T WORK AGAINST VIRAL INFECTIONS, AND YET THEY’RE PRESCRIBED FOR THE FLU AND COMMON COLD EVERY DAY. AND SOMETIMES THE DRUGS DO WORK, BUT THEY’RE STILL OVERPRICED! IF YOU’VE BEEN ON THE INTERNET AT ALL THIS YEAR YOU’LL KNOW ALL ABOUT THE INSULIN CRISIS, WHICH WAS CREATED ARTIFICIALLY. BASICALLY THE PEOPLE WHO OWN INSULIN (YEAH, *OWN* A LIFE-SAVING MEDICATION) RACKED UP THE PRICE SO MUCH THAT PEOPLE COULDN’T FUCKING AFFORD IT ANYMORE, DESPITE A NORMAL DOSE OF INSULIN COSTING LIKE FIFTY CENTS TO MAKE?? OR, HOW ABOUT THIS—THEY INVENTED THIS COOL NEW CHEAP PAIN-RELIEVING DRUG CALLED FENTANYL AND DISCOVERED THEY COULD MAKE A SHIT TON OF MONEY OFF IT, SO DOCTORS PRESCRIBED THE HELL OUT OF IT UNTIL PEOPLE GOT SO ADDICTED TO IT THAT TENS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE DIED OF OVERDOSES. OH, DID I SAY “PRESCRIBED” IN THE PAST TENSE? MY BAD, THEY CONTINUE TO PRESCRIBE IT EVERY SINGLE DAY. IF YOU HAVE CHRONIC PAIN AND ASK DOCTORS NOT TO PUT YOU ON PAIN MEDICATION, A LOT OF TIMES THEY WILL STILL PUT YOU ON PAIN MEDICATION. IF YOU EXPLAIN TO YOUR DOCTOR THAT YOU KICKED A HEROIN ADDICTION AND YOU REALLY WOULD NOT LIKE TO HAVE OPIOIDS PUT IN YOUR BODY, THEY WILL PROBABLY STILL BE LIKE, HUH, SUCKS FOR YOU, AND PUT OPIOIDS IN YOUR BODY. 

DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE ANY OF THIS? PERHAPS PETITION YOUR LOCAL POLITICIAN, OR GOD FORBID, STATE CONGRESSMAN, TO PASS A LAW THAT YOU THINK MIGHT IMPROVE YOUR LIFE? WELL, IT TURNS OUT YOU NEED A LOT OF MONEY TO RUN A CAMPAIGN NOWADAYS, AND POLITICIANS ARE ALLOWED TO BE SPONSORED BY BIG BUSINESSES, BECAUSE BUSINESSES ARE PEOPLE. SO IF YOU’RE THE SENATOR OF NEW JERSEY OR WHATEVER, AND YOUR CONSTITUENTS WANT YOU TO VOTE TO RAISE THE MINIMUM WAGE, BUT YOUR CAMPAIGN IS OWNED BY WALMART, WHO WANTS TO KEEP PAYING ITS WORKERS ELEVEN BUCKS AN HOUR, YOU HAVE THE CHOICE BETWEEN MAKING A COUPLE LITTLE WORKING CLASS IDIOTS ANGRY OR GETTING ALL YOUR FUNDING FROM WALMART PULLED BECAUSE YOU THREATENED THEIR PROFIT MARGINS. 

NOT ACTIVELY DYING FROM A TREATABLE ILLNESS, WASTING AWAY FROM DRUG ADDICTION, OR ENTRENCHED IN SLAVERY TO A CORPORATION WHOSE PRODUCT YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN? GREAT! DID YOU KNOW THE PLANET WILL BE ON FIRE IN LIKE A FEW DECADES? OIL AND GAS COMPANIES HAVE SO MUCH INFLUENCE OVER THE LAWMAKERS THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO PROHIBIT THEM FROM RUINING THE PLANET, THEY’VE PUT THE ONUS OF SAVING IT ON INDIVIDUALS’ SHOULDERS. REDUCE YOUR CARBON EMISSIONS BY TAKING THAT HOURLY BUS (YOU’LL EITHER BE FIFTY MINUTES EARLY TO WORK OR TEN MINUTES LATE!) OR RECYCLING YOUR SHIT (BUT IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOUR MUNICIPALITY CAN’T RECYCLE, THEY’LL THROW THE WHOLE BATCH OUT WHEN YOU PUT TRASH IN) OR TURNING THE LIGHTS OFF IN YOUR HOUSE (JUST EAT DINNER IN THE DARK YOU PIECE OF SHIT) OR INSTALLING SOLAR PANELS ON YOUR HOUSE (FUCK ME FOR RENTING I GUESS?) THERE IS SO MUCH WE CAN DO JUST WHENEVER TO SWITCH TO SUSTAINABLE ENERGY, BUT EXXON AND BP AND SHELL OWN SO MUCH INFLUENCE THAT WE’RE JUST *NOT*, AND LEAVING THIS WASTELAND OF A HOME PLANET TO OUR FUTURE GENERATIONS. BUT AT LEAST ELON MUSK BUILT THIS REALLY COOL LOW-POLY BETHESDA LOOKING PIECE OF SHIT FOR US TO MAKE MEMES ABOUT

HERE’S THE SKINNY OF IT, PEOPLE. THERE’S NO OUT WITHIN OUR CURRENT SYSTEM. EVEN IF YOU DID THE MAGIC AND PULLED YOURSELF UP BY YOUR BOOTSTRAPS AND NOW YOU’RE A BIG BOY WHO OWNS HIS OWN COMPANY, YOU LEFT BEHIND A BUNCH OF PEOPLE WHO DIDN’T WIN THE BIRTH LOTTERY LIKE YOU DID. INNOCENT FOLKS ARE DYING OF HUNGER OR ILLNESS THEY CAN’T AFFORD TO TREAT, CRASHING CARS THEY CAN’T AFFORD TO FIX, WORKING THEMSELVES LITERALLY TO DEATH TO SUPPORT THEMSELVES OR THEIR FAMILIES, AND SCRAPING BY WITH A MEASLY ALLOWANCE OF FREE TIME WITH WHICH TO UNWIND AND CATCH UP WITH OTHER PEOPLE. THEY DON’T HAVE TIME TO WATCH THE NEWS, THINK CRITICALLY ABOUT THE SOCIETY THEY LIVE IN, CONCEPTUALIZE UNIONIZING OR REVOLTING OR BUILDING GUILLOTINES. THEY WANT TO KEEP US EXHAUSTED AND STRUGGLING BECAUSE IT’S WHAT KEEPS THEM COMFORTABLE UP THERE, KNOWING NO ONE HAS THE ENERGY OR THE GALL TO TOUCH THEM. THE ONLY FUCKING WAY TO ESCAPE THIS HELL WE’VE CREATED IS THROUGH REVOLUTION. WE NEED TO SCRAP THIS WHOLE THING AND START OVER. BUT I THINK THAT’S ANOTHER ESSAY. ANYWAY I HOPE THIS WAS THOROUGH ENOUGH FOR A LITERAL ALIEN SOCIETY. 

TL;DR: WE ARE ALL FUCKED IF WE DON’T OVERTHROW THE RICH. 

---------------

*CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS IS SOME EUROPEAN WHO SAILED THE WRONG WAY AND ENDED UP IN THE AMERICAS. HE AND HIS BUDDIES RAPED AND PILLAGED THEIR WAY THROUGH A BUNCH OF INDIGINOUS COMMUNITIES AND DECIDED THIS COUNTRY WAS “FREE REIGN” TO SETTLE IN. HE IS HAILED AS THE AMERICAN ODYSSEUS AND CREDITED WITH THE “DISCOVERY” OF AMERICA BECAUSE OF COURSE ALL THOSE PEOPLE WHO LIVED HERE FIRST DON’T COUNT??

**I DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT WARS EITHER BUT LET’S GET INTO IT FROM THE POV OF A GUY WHO PASSED HIS WORLD HISTORY CLASS WITH A STRAIGHT B MINUS. 

THE FIRST WORLD WAR: I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THIS ONE.

THE SECOND WORLD WAR: THE ONE WHERE A BUNCH OF SCIENTISTS AND GOVERNMENT OFFICERS BOMBED A COUPLE OF CIVILIAN SETTLEMENTS IN JAPAN AND I’M PRETTY SURE AN *ENTIRE HAWAIIAN ISLAND* JUST TO SEE WHAT HAPPENED. TURNS OUT IT KILLED A BUNCH OF CIVILIANS. HUH! WHO’D HAVE EXPECTED THAT! OH IT ALSO TURNED AN ENTIRE GENERATION OF OTHERWISE DECENT FOLKS INTO RABIDLY PATRIOTIC IDIOTS, BECAUSE THE PACE AT WHICH THIS COUNTRY CHURNS OUT PROPAGANDA DURING A WAR IS FASTER THAN THE SPEEDING RUBBER BAND I SHOT WITH MY FINGERS AT THE TEACHER WHO WAS EXPLAINING WHY EVERY OTHER COUNTRY WAS IN THE ABSOLUTE WRONG DURING THIS CATASTROPHE.

VIETNAM: OKAY SO BASICALLY PEOPLE HATED THIS ONE BECAUSE THEY REALIZED SOLDIERS WERE GOING ALL CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS ON THE COUNTRIES WHERE THEY WERE STATIONED. ENOUGH SAID. 

COLD WAR: THIS IS NOMINALLY A WAR BECAUSE THE GOOD OLD U.S.A. AND ITS HATEFUCKBUDDY THE U.S.S.R.† DID THIS WITH WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION 

(EVENTUALLY THEY DECIDED TO PUT THE FINGER GUNS AWAY. I’M GONNA LET YOU TRY TO PUZZLE OUT ON YOUR OWN HOW COUNTRIES “PUT AWAY” NUCLEAR WEAPONS CAPABLE OF ENDING ALL LIFE ON EARTH.)

SPACE RACE: THE U.S. AND THE U.S.S.R. HAD A FUN COMPETITION TO SEE WHOSE DICK WAS BIG ENOUGH TO GET TO THE MOON. SCIENCE IS RUINED. 

***ARTISTS, WRITERS, JOURNALISTS, VIDEO ESSAYISTS, AND ANYONE ELSE WHO ISN’T EITHER OWNED OR SPONSORED (THAT’S A FANCY WORD FOR “OWNED”) BY BIG BUSINESS TEND TO BE THREATENED BY POVERTY. PRETTY MUCH ANYONE WHO CAN FREELANCE ACTUALLY, BECAUSE WORKING FOR A CORPORATION PROVIDES THE SAFETY NET THAT SOCIAL PROGRAMS WOULD OTHERWISE TAKE CARE OF IF SOCIAL PROGRAMS WERE FUNDED EVER. 

****ALSO KNOWN AS THE AMERICAN DREAM, IN WHICH *ANYBODY* CAN MAKE IT IN THIS COUNTRY IF THEY TRY HARD ENOUGH! UNFORTUNATELY THIS IS A MYTH, AS YOU CAN SEE BY THE FACT THAT I AM STILL REALLY POOR, AS IS LIKE 90% OF THE COUNTRY. PLUS CLASS MOBILITY WORKS REALLY HARD TO KEEP MINORITIES IN EXTREME POVERTY, BECAUSE IT DOESN’T EXIST AS AN ISOLATED SYSTEM AND ANYONE WHO THINKS IT DOES IS A DUMBSHIT WHO’S BOUGHT INTO THIS EVEN MORE THAN THE AVERAGE DUMBSHIT. 

†RUSSIA’S COOL NEW NAME WHEN IT TRIED OUT SOCIALISM

#HERE YOU FUCKING GO ALIENS. #I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN A D MINUS FOR THIS IN SCHOOL. #FOR REASONS THAT ARE ESTABLISHED UNDER THE CUT. #{{i typed this in google docs? its uhhh 8 pages long #addiction/ #drugs/ #war/ #uncle sam/ #tesla truck/ #watch as it fucks up the formatting and kills me instantly

[topsavvy-blog]

Extra curriculars are important

Have you ever wondered what a student's life would be like without any activities beyond their studies? It is a common perception among parents and guardians that extracurricular activities lead children away from their academics. However, This is far from reality, in fact, a significant amount of research has been done at various times and places to establish beyond doubt that children participating in extracurricular activities are more likely to become successful in life compared to those not participating in any activities. Another advantage of such activities would be influencing Cultural integration. This is a fantastic way to help immigrants from different countries and cultures learn more about the new traditions in their new surroundings. Secondly, it helps many unemployed earn new jobs. Thirdly, it continues to boost social skills. finally, extracurriculars help mentally challenged students who suffer from cases like anxiety and PTSD, cope with their problems, it is a sort of treatment for them, a way to escape from everything that is going on in their life. Therefore, it is evident that extracurricular activities have a very important role in society benefiting us physically and mentally.

Schools are always the subject of many funding cuts from the government. For example, teachers went on strike in 2015 due to cuts that affected their wages, class sizes and benefits. When these cuts are made other aspects of school life are also affected. Most commonly, this means cutting extracurricular activities. Extra curricular activities are always vulnerable to being cut because they are seen as a dispensable service and unimportant. However, This is far from reality, in fact, a significant amount of research has been done at various times and places to establish beyond doubt that children participating in extracurricular activities are more likely to become successful in life compared to those not participating. If this problem is fixed, students will gain the opportunity to learn and grow in their own way. Which can be physically or mentally because everyone is different. Therefore, extra activities are a great way for students to find the best in themselves. Extracurriculars are a great way for children to open themselves up to new opportunities but if we make cuts on them it could significantly close the doors for students who want to find a profession that aligns with their interests. Thus, it is important that we start to put more priority on extracurricular activities so that students have the ability to learn more about themselves.

Although extra volunteer hours leave good impressions on one's resumé, it is not the only way to earn a good reputation from your future bosses. Extracurricular activities often offer a good learning experience while having fun at the same time. These activities are known for their influence on other people's jobs. Did you know extracurricular activities can separate one from another who has not done any after school activities? It is also true that interviewers often hire those who have experience with extracurricular activities rather than those who don’t. The reason why prospective employees look for extracurricular activities is that it shows them the employee has a good sense of time management, it shows you are successful both non-academically and academically, and finally shows that the employee cares for the job and therefore another with a history of extracurriculars to get the job the majority of the time. Many celebrities have become so successful beyond their classrooms, for example, billionaire Bill Gates explains to the students of Harvard about how he regrets not joining any beyond academic activities teams and clubs. This is stated in the CNBC article, "[u]like Gates, Ballmer was extroverted and involved in a variety of extracurricular activities, including social clubs and campus publications."

The people who will be positively affected by this change are the teachers and the students who want to spend more time in extracurricular activities. This is because the students will learn and also because the teachers will be paid their normal wages and therefore will be staying after school to teach many other students, and as a result both teachers and students will be happy. On the contrary though, There will be people who will not be inclusive of this change over extracurricular activities including many of the parents who believe only in academic success and not in extracurricular success. Another group of people that it will be negatively affected is our government who consider investing in extracurriculars is a waste of time and their money and therefore it is a choice which is vulnerable and the only people who are protecting extra activities are teachers and students who have a desire to learn and show their creativity.

Extracurricular activities are the key to increasing social skills because it shows in the future that you can communicate with your co-workers more effectively. Social skills are vital when it comes to group projects with fellow workers. Social skills allow for one to successfully co-operate with their fellow peers and share their ideas. It constantly provides you with many character traits that help one in school and their future jobs. Being able to communicate with the people around you shows that you are responsible, you take initiative, and you can self regulate. Therefore, one should involve themselves in activities because it helps to make a good relationship with friends and co-workers.

Although it will be hard for change to take place, it would be really influential if all those in favor of these activities start a protest that could mean teachers going on strikes for not enough pay and or bigger classroom, but in the bigger picture the teachers are fighting for not just these three things but the right of proper education for all the kids which includes academic and even non-academic. This goes to show that school is not only for academic success but also for non-academic as well.

As we know that Canada is known for taking in a lot of immigrant students, moreover, in 2017 Canada took in 286,479 immigrants. Newcomers have a really hard time fitting into the new environment around them. Therefore, immigrants need to join extracurricular activities because it helps them become more familiar with their surroundings allowing them to learn English faster and making new friends along the way. This is important for another reason. It is said in "making connections" that immigrants who travel to Canada are usually well educated and smart. Therefore Allowing more immigrants to come over allows a greater growth of the economy to our country allowing them to reduce taxes and also increasing work on many other gray areas around Canada.

My change will make Canada a great place to live because it will give students a variety to choose from rather than just the classical cubicle jobs. Non-academic activities during and after school are really important because they allow for a great number of options to be opened for the new world like musicianship, sports, visual arts and other extravagant and unique jobs. Once this change is made Canada will get a greater reputation for education because they have a high number of students who don’t just go to school to become doctors or engineers but they also go so that they can become Actors, singers, music directors or even athletes.

[starsailorstories]

Positions on an astraea spaceship

I refer all the time to characters with all of these jobs but haven’t really explained what they do. Not every single ship will have all of these. On a really large or specialized ship most of these people will have a group that works directly under them.

The captain - in terms of actual daily activities is mainly the liaison between the ship and her commissioning body (the business/individual/institution that paid for the voyage) and her destination, as well as between the leaders of different parts of the crew. It’s actually more important for her to be a good listener, a clear communicator, and a good logistical strategist than it is for her to know a lot about the craft of flying a spaceship, although if you say that to any experienced captain who hasn’t skated through her career on other people’s bail she’ll probably laugh and go “yeah, sure, until something goes wrong.”

This degree of specialization, though, is indicated by the fact that as in the American and British navies “captain” and “master [mariner]” are two separate titles, the former of which is given to anybody in command of a voyage and the latter of which indicates some high rank or other within the voyage’s commissioning institution. In the case of, again, particularly big or complicated undertakings, the captain and master (the altamaian word is magisteria, I...translate it as master because I want to maintain the connection to the nautical term and because as doctor who well taught us “mistress” IS the proper gender swap but man does it ever have Connotations) may be two different people, and in the case of short or relatively unimportant voyages staffed by low-ranking personnel, the captain may just be a captain.

A note here: Most of my spaceship stuff is based on 18th century British naval stuff, but the thing they had of ‘master’ and ‘navigator’ being basically synonymous is different for technological reasons. Navigators do have to have specialized knowledge but not really a whole career’s worth, and they’re communicating the nitty gritty of it mainly to the pilot.

ANYWAYS, other warrant officers:

The boatswain - is in charge of basically everything going on not on the bridge or in the engine room. Boss of everybody who works on the sail deck and/or propulsion system and in charge of coordinating the timing element of FTL travel between the engineer, pilot, and deck crew, as well as the lighthouse operators. In the intergalactic age this is mostly done using radio, but they used to use these huge drums to signal with which are still kind of a symbol of the profession.

The pilot - combines the role of a helmsman and quartermaster i.e. working the instruments that maintain the ship’s direction, which in this case means the mass system (controlled by what honest to god looks like a sailing ship’s wheel poking half-out of a control panel) and the various rockets. The pilot also has to throw the final switch to fire the engines, although she depends on other departments to get them ready to go. Relatedly it’s the pilot’s job to coordinate with the navigator (who is acting on orders from the captain), engineer, boatswain/deckhands, and, if it’s a combat situation, the gunner, to determine what direction the ship needs to be going and to get her going there.

The medical officer - identical to what it is Star Trek.

The engineer - as the name would imply, mainly concerned with the ship’s engines and all the other mechanics of her powered flight. Also kind of fills the role of a ship’s carpenter i.e. has to make sure the ship herself as a device is adequately maintained and repaired. Powered space travel, much less FTL space travel, is relatively new, and it takes a lot of on-the-fly tweaking to prevent stuff like stress on the casings, overheating, etc.

The gunner - oversees all of a ship’s weapons’ systems. Often a much more managerial position than it sounds like, and accomplished naval military leaders are preferred, although below a certain size of ship/level of mission importance this is one ex-gangster in a turret with a single plasma cannon that she uses to write “fuck off” in loopy cursive on the hull of enemy vessels. Or maybe I’m just extrapolating that from the Revelator’s situation.

The purser - no difference here really from the actual age of sail counterpart; this is someone who goes along on the voyage to handle all the financial concerns, particularly the issue of necessary supplies to the employees. Sometimes for astraeas this is just handled by admiralty/shipping company representatives at the ports (since ‘necessary supplies’ for them just means like, equipment, medical stuff, etc) or by the captain. She also keeps detailed reports of everybody’s job performance so that (as per the Andromedan economic system) the boss can decide who gets what pick of her favors (which generally include housing etc). Certainly the most murderable of all officers, but also will be zealously protected if she ever dares to prioritize the needs of the sailors over the company budget.

Petty/inferior warrant officers:

Officers’ mates - are usually the delicitas of the warrant officers, though they may just be less experienced specialized workers commissioned for the voyage. They’re assistants/seconds in command to the warrant officers. This is also true for first mates etc. with respect to the captain.

The navigator - definitely the most important of petty officers, although, because direct understanding of the grunt work of the ship is fairly required, one of the most likely to be recruited from among lower-class sailors. In charge of reading all the positioning data (calculated by sophisticated mechanical engines back in Lux’s day, computers more recently) and interpreting it and condensing out what the pilot needs to know.

Midshippers - are educated sailors who are in training/gaining the experience to eventually fill other warrant officer roles but don’t have specialized knowledge yet, or else they don’t much care what they do as long as they’re on the career path to be a captain someday. A lot of times the captain will assign them administrative tasks and they’ll report directly to her. (Cepheid was hustled into being a midshipper because it’s the lowest naval rank whose credentials are considered “transferable” back to the other branches of the military.)

Ships’ stewards - are in charge of the ship as a living space. They oversee the staff that keep everything clean, change the lightbulbs, keep the atmosphere recirculation system running. This is actually a really important job in space as there’s simply nowhere else to go so the general habitability of the ship is a matter of life and death. Ships’ stewards also report directly to the captain despite not being involved in the main mission objective. Also: if lux units are working on a ship, the steward will probably be their boss.

Everybody else is just a sailor (or sometimes a rated sailor, which in the current climate is akin to being hired on by whoever commissioned the voyage rather than being a temp) except for:

Cabin maids - who are basically like flight attendants, although they also do cleaning and maintenance. At one point they would be lower-class teenagers Paying Their Dues before being hired on as full-time sailors, but by the time of the story they’re almost always clones.

#sweet chariot

[itsassignmentsgroup]

Why Do Students Use Essay Writing Services Online?

In recent years, a number of online essay writing services US have sprung up. These programmes are used by students from high school to college to complete their writing assignments. Are these students attempting to deceive you? What are the reasons that motivate so many students to hire essay writers?

Why Are Students Using Online Essay Writing Services?

Traditionally, essay writing has been regarded as an important component of a liberal arts degree. The ability to compose a concise and graceful essay is considered a symbol of scholarship. By certain definitions, a student who cannot write well by the time they graduate is not a decent student.Contemporary students are inundated with essay writing assignments, perhaps as a result of the emphasis placed on writing in curricula.This is true from junior high to doctoral degree. In a typical undergraduate class, short essays, term papers, and other writing-related assignments will account for 20 to 80 percent of a student’s grade. Students are still under a lot of pressure to produce many A-grade papers per semester.As the demand on students has increased, they have, as is customary, devised creative solutions to the issue. Teachers and professors are discovering that many more students than they previously believed use so-called “essay writing services” to complete their assignments. This online essay writing services are divisive, and whether they are considered cheating varies depending on who you ask.

What Are the Benefits of Using Essay Writing Services?

Outsourcing essay writing is a cost-effective and time-saving option. A student will get a reliable essay written in as little as 24 hours, making last-minute cramming a breeze.

Students’ Experiences with Online Essay Writing Services

These programmes are used by students for a number of purposes. It’s likely that the student actually has so much responsibility on his or her plate and wishes to outsource some of it. These resources are becoming extremely popular among students who aren’t good authors. These programmes can also be sought by foreign students whose first language is not English.The relative simplicity with which students may employ a freelance writer can encourage them to do so if they don’t feel like writing.

Undergraduates in the STEM fields use freelance writing programmes as well. Consider yourself an engineering student who is needed to write a 5,000-word term paper on Hemingway for English 101. What is your level of commitment to this task? You will miss the class and get your GPA ruined if you do not submit the essay.You, on the other hand, don’t worry about Hemingway enough to write 5,000 words about him. It isn’t a topic that actually applies to your field of study. So, what’s the harm in recruiting a skilled essay writer to complete the task?

There are some types of students that are more likely to recruit strangers to help them with their writing. Students who don’t take their writing assignments seriously, don’t believe the writing assignments are important to them, or aren’t trusting in their writing abilities are among them.

Is it true that they’re all bad?

Having someone to do one’s writing is considered cheating by most teachers and professors. Any students, though, do not see it that way. For a better score, most essay writers actually make first draughts look nicer.Online essay writing services US, obviously, can trigger some issues in the classroom. First, students do not complete their writing assignments and therefore do not have the opportunity to learn. They’re even passing off someone else’s job as their own, which is cheating in academic terms. It’s also important to remember that the freelancers’ abilities differ. Any students can focus on freelance writers who are only marginally better at writing than they are.

Do these considerations, though, necessitate a blanket ban on freelance writing services? Almost certainly not. For one thing, students will still find a way around the ban. Disallowing essay writing programmes, on the other hand, can simply be a way of avoiding the real issue: students who are unable or unable to publish.

Taking on the “Issue”

It’s worth thinking about what the issue is with essay writing services US or about how new curricula are put together. What is it about syllabi that makes students feel so overwhelmed that they pay strangers on the internet to do their homework?Writing is a major metric on which serious scholars are judged. If a research paper is badly published, no one can take it seriously. Writing is clearly important in certain areas, such as language and history. However, it’s worth wondering why chemists and digital engineers need to be able to write in the style of Nabokov in order to progress in their fields.

Professors and instructors should think of the expectations they set for their students and how much writing work they want them to do in class. The importance of being able to compose should be clearly articulated to students. This is particularly relevant for STEM students who believe it is unimportant. If a pupil is having difficulty writing, they should be offered more time or help.Learning to write is unquestionably necessary for a liberal arts degree. Students should not be in a position where they need resources such as online essay writing. Educators should begin by addressing the issues that lead students to seek essay writing assistance. When that happens, students can no longer seek out these resources.

[redditnosleep]

So Much Filler

by Pippinacious

Some people, I thought, are just meant to be filler. Background characters only created to decorate the world for the main players. We work, we have a few hobbies, a handful of friends, we exist, but we don't matter.

It was true for me, anyway.

Every day, I'd wake up at 7 am, shower, have a bowl of cereal, and then go sit in a cubicle for eight hours before coming home, having dinner, watching TV, and going to bed. Rinse and repeat, day after day. On weekends, I'd sometimes go for runs in the park or spend the afternoon wandering aimlessly through shops, never buying anything, just looking.

I had a few folks that I was friendly with from work, but we rarely hung out and, when we did, it was usually just for drinks and bitching about the boss. No substance. I told myself it didn't matter. I was a boring person who led a boring life.

I was just so much filler.

It occurred to me one night, while I was lying awake in bed, that if I were to just disappear, it would have almost no effect on the world around me. Sure, my parents might mourn for a bit, but they had my more accomplished younger brother to help them forget. I wasn't even sure that same brother would notice I was gone at all. Work would continue uninterrupted without me, those people I sometimes went out with would still meet up at the bar, my landlady would find a new tenant.

Everyone would keep on keeping on without much interruption.

I wasn't sure if I found the thought unsettling or comforting. It wasn't that I wanted to die, I wasn't suicidal, I was just....meaningless.

I'd had those kinds of thoughts before; they were dark and heavy and made me feel trapped inside myself. Usually I could shake them after a day or two, burying them under hours of overtime and working out until I was too exhausted to think anymore. This time was different, though. This time, they slithered about my insudes and coiled around my stomach and heart until both ached.

I still made myself go to work. I still made myself run along the footpaths in the nearby park. I still pushed myself to appear normal despite how trivial and forced it all felt. At night, little whispers would flit across the back of my mind and keep me awake.

You're useless

You're pathetic

You don't matter

They sounded like everyone I'd ever known.

After a week, I finally did call out of work and I stayed in bed all day, just staring at the wall of my apartment and listening to those voices. They were soft, but insistent, and the longer they carried on, the more I started to think about how right they were.

The next day, I left a message at work saying I was still under the weather and wouldn't be in.

Useless; pathetic; you don't matter

I didn't even bother to call the office on the third day. I doubted anyone would notice anyway.

The voices were getting louder.

I didn't eat much in those three days. I didn't shower or clean up or check my phone. I could barely be bothered to get out of bed to use the bathroom. It all seemed so pointless.

And, admittedly, that was starting to scare me a little.

It was just after noon when I dragged myself out of bed and over to my computer. I sat in front of it for a long time, the blank search engine up on my screen, and I just watched the text cursor blink, waiting for me to type something in. I didn't know what I was doing or what to search for, though. I just knew that I needed something. That I needed someone.

My fingers dragged slowly across the keyboard.

I need someone to talk to

I hit enter and results filled the screen. I scrolled past the first few, some chat rooms and an advertisement for a bot that would act as a friend, and stopped with my mouse hovering over a link to a page called Untethered Talk.

The brief description below said that it was a talk based, online hotline for those struggling. The idea of speaking to someone was daunting and exhausting and I almost shut my computer down again and returned to bed. The only thing that stopped me was catching sight of myself in the mirror hanging on the back of my door.

Gnarled, tangled hair, puffy eyes, dirty pajamas; it was like looking at a stranger. The same niggling sense of fear that had gotten me out of bed in the first place flared again.

It doesn't even matter, I thought even as I was reaching for my headset.

I clicked the link and navigated to the voice chat option, where it had me input my name and my age, and I waited to be matched up with one of the site’s volunteers. All the while, I was berating myself in my head for being a pathetic attention seeker.

“Hello and thank you for speaking with me this evening,” a woman’s voice, warm and soft, with a hint of an English accent, said. “My name is Thalia. Am I speaking with Erin?”

“Y-yeah,” I replied, suddenly nervous.

She was going to think that I was stupid and that I had no reason to need to talk to someone. I was an employed adult with a roof over my head and food on my table; so what if I was feeling down, it wasn't like I had a good reason for it.

“Great. Can you tell me why you called today, Erin? What's on your mind?”

“I don't know,” I said. “I just...I think I should go.”

“Are you sure?” Thalia asked gently. “It sounds like you want to talk.”

“No. I don't know.”

“I think you do,” Thalia said. “Can I make an observation just based on your voice?”

“O-ok.”

“You sound tired, Erin. I hear defeat in your tone. You sound like a woman who needs a long rest.”

A lump had grown in my throat and I made a weak sound of agreement.

“Do you know what I think you should do?”

“What?”

“Kill yourself.”

She said it in the same comforting way she'd said everything else and it took me a moment to process her words. “W-what?”

“Kill yourself,” Thalia repeated. “It's all meaningless anyway, isn't it?”

The lump became sharp and jagged and I was having trouble getting words past it.

“How long have you felt like this?” She asked sweetly. “Years, right? You know it's not going to get better.”

“But-”

“Listen, dear. You've been at the same job pushing paper for almost five years. Mr. Calwell isn't going to give you that promotion you've been longing for; you know that. It's an endless drudgery with no chance at advancement and you've not learned any useful skills that will get you a better job elsewhere.”

“How did you know tha-”

Thalia continued, her voice still motherly, still kind. “It's not like you have any real friends there, is it? Or anywhere, really. And no love life to speak of. You really are a sad little critter, dear.”

My mouth flapped uselessly. I had no defense, nothing to say to counter her words, and the nagging, wriggling voices in my head chorused, See? You're pathetic! No one cares about you!

“Dale is everything you weren't. He's four years younger, but he's already a doctor. He's married, has a baby, he can afford to take care of your parents. It's no wonder they moved to be closer to him; he's the child they really wanted. You're just their disappointment.”

“How do you know about my brother?” I demanded through a sob.

“Don't be so upset, dear. This is untethered talk, the truth. Isn't that what you wanted?”

“I wanted help!”

“I am helping you, Erin,” Thalia said. “I'm helping you realize you've been right all along. You're unimportant, meaningless. You're just so much filler.”

With a cry, I hit the red x at the top of the screen and shut the chat window. Immediately, a new window popped open.

Thalia is inviting you to a voice chat

I closed it quickly. I was shaking and terrified and completely at a loss as to how she could have known any of the things she'd been saying. She couldn't have! There was no way!

Another pop up appeared.

Thalia is inviting you to a voice chat

I swallowed a shout and closed that too. A chat window opened up on its own.

“What's wrong, Erin?” Thalia’s gentle voice filled my headset. “I'm just saying things you've always known.”

I did scream that time and I frantically closed the chat and then the web browser and I tossed my headset back on to my desk. My heart thrummed rapidly in my chest and I felt like I was going to be sick.

Distantly, I heard the Skype ringtone playing through the headset I'd thrown aside. I looked up at my screen to see a call coming in from unknown. Before I could decline, the call was somehow accepted and Thalia’s voice came through my computer speakers.

“Stop being so dramatic, dear,” she said. “Just kill yourself; it'll stop your pain, people won't have to pretend to care anymore. You'll all be free.”

“Stop, stop, stop!” I was shrieking at my computer while Thalia clicked her tongue in gentle reproach.

“Why fight it? You know I'm right.”

I picked up the monitor and I hurled it at the wall, where it left a large dent before crashing to the floor. I yanked at wires, I stomped on my headset, I beat my keyboard against the desk, and the whole time, I couldn't stop screaming.

“Stop, stop, stop!”

From out in the living room, my cell phone rang from inside my purse. It was so quiet that I almost didn't hear it.

I sat back on my heels in the middle of my trashed room, cheeks wet and stained with tears, and I grabbed at my hair and I shook my head.

“No,” I moaned, “stop, please stop!”

The phone stopped ringing and silence fell over my apartment. For just a moment, my ears filled with the pounding of my heart and my own breathing.

And then my cell phone started to ring again.

I dragged myself to my feet and staggered out of my bedroom. My purse was where I always left it, sitting on the little table beside my front door, and as I approached, the ringing seemed to get louder. I dumped the purse out and grabbed my phone.

“Stop!” I shouted into it. “Just leave me alone! Please...please…”

“Erin?”

I sank to my knees and clutched the phone against my ear, sobbing into it.

“Mom,” I managed to say.

“What's wrong, Erin? I got a call from your work, they said I was your emergency contact and that they'd been trying to reach you. Where are you?” The concern in her voice just made me cry harder.

“Mom,” I choked the words out, “can you come here? To my place?”

“Are you ok?”

“I think s-” I stopped myself and shook my head. “No. I'm not, Mom. I think I need help.”

My mom assured me she'd catch the first flight out to my city and stayed on the phone with me until I'd calmed down enough to stop crying. I didn't tell her what had happened or how I'd been feeling; I couldn't yet. I just told her that I was sorry, but I needed her.

“Don't you ever apologize for that,” she said. “You're my baby; I'd do anything for you. Hang tight, I'll be there in a few hours. I love you, Erin.”

After we hung up, I saw I had missed calls and messages from a few people at work asking where I was and if I was ok. I hadn't heard them coming in when I'd be tucked away in my bed.

Slowly, I got to my feet and held my phone against my chest. I was still trembling, still replaying everything Thalia had said to me over again in my head. All of those awful, impossible things that she shouldn't have known about me. But as I sat on my couch, I tried to force myself not to think about her and to drown her out with a louder, more real voice.

You're my baby; I'd do anything for you. Hang tight, I'll be there in a few hours. I love you, Erin.

When I got to the airport, I found both of my parents waiting for me. They didn't ask me to explain right then (not that I was sure I would ever be able to), they weren't upset that I'd asked them to come, they just enveloped me in a tight hug between them.

And for the first time in a long time, I dared to believe that maybe I wasn't as alone as I often felt. Maybe I wasn't so meaningless.

Maybe I was more than so much filler.

#creepy #horror story #author: Pippinacious #wholesome nosleep #suicide

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THAT MIGHT BE WORTH EXPLORING

You can't just say Err to the user of a stove. Though serfs were in principle forbidden to leave their manors, it can't have been the personal qualities of early union organizers that made unions successful, but must have been. And it turns out that was all you needed to solve the problem.1 But investing in concepts isn't stupid; it's what VCs do, and the difference is individual tastes. Maybe options should be replaced with something tied more directly to earnings. A significant number of would-be startup founders are probably dissuaded from doing it by their parents. Money matters are particularly likely to become the top idea in your mind. It's more important than anything else.

Well, yes, but you have to work as if it were inherently stupid to invest in them. Another way to decrease the risk is to join an existing startup instead of starting your own. He knew as well as they were ever going to be negative. For example, once computers get so cheap that most people never seem to make is to take advantage of direct contact with the medium. I have a general idea of the greatest masters did this so well that you envision the scene for yourself.2 Simple as it seems, that's the recipe for success. That sounds right, but is it simply a description of how to be successful in general? Indeed, they're bad in a particular way: they have the same drab clunkiness as anything else that comes out of a garage in Silicon Valley would feel part of an organization whose structure gives each person freedom in inverse proportion to the mere discomfort of wearing such clothes.

One of the reasons kids give up drawing at ten or so is that they decide to start drawing like grownups, and one that most people can have one of their own. Everyone knows computer science and electrical engineering are related, but precisely because everyone knows it, importing ideas from one to the other doesn't yield great profits. Which means for a group of 10 people within a large organization divided into groups in this way, but I found the same problem there.3 But is that more important than that they learn to write well? For competitors, list the top 3 and explain in one sentence each what they lack that you have. Then would-be founders can use this as a checklist to examine their own feelings. You don't need to write anything, though? The Defense Department does a fine though expensive job of defending the country, but they wouldn't now. One is that companies will inevitably slow down as they grow larger, no matter how hard they try to measure, and to him they looked wooden and unnatural. It's hard enough to overcome one's own misconceptions without having to think about how to solve it. This was my reason for not starting a startup. They also know that big projects will by their sheer bulk impress the audience.

Eventually everyone will learn by word of mouth. I got done that day, the answer would have been delighted at first to be bought for $2 million, but are now set on world domination. As we stood there, he said. It's not just a synonym for annoying. The biggest spammers could probably protect their servers against auto-retrieving filters. Which means if you want to hear; an interview with a random alum; a high school record that's largely an index of obedience. Indeed, food is an excellent metaphor to explain what's wrong with their lives, the first paragraph sounds like the sort of place that has conspicuous monuments.

This tells you how much to trust your instincts when you disagree with authorities, whether it's worth going through the usual channels to become one yourself, and perhaps most dangerous, the tendency of such work to become a duty rather than a pleasure. Most large organizations and many small ones are steeped in it. It's this end that gives rise to phrases like those who can't do, teach. Of course the habits of mind to invoke. Though the Web has been around for more than ten people. Experts expect to throw away some early work. Much Renaissance art was in its time considered shockingly secular: according to Vasari, Botticelli repented and gave up painting, and Fra Bartolommeo and Lorenzo di Credi actually burned some of their work. The most amusing thing written during this period, Liudprand of Cremona's Embassy to Constantinople, is, I suspect, mostly inadvertantly so. At the bottom are business, literature, and the weather is still fabulous. Work like a dog being taken for a walk, instead of fleeing as soon as conventional working hours end.

The most valuable truths are the ones sitting back with slightly pained expressions. In the mid twentieth century there was a vogue for setting text in sans-serif fonts. In math and engineering, recursion, especially, less is more. You can sit down with you and cook up some promising project. In math it means that a shorter proof tends to be the one to discover its replacement. Whereas there appears to be great demand for celebrity gossip magazines. Just as inviting people over forces you to think well.4 And this is not a reference work. Unnecessary meetings, pointless disputes, bureaucracy, posturing, dealing with other people's mistakes, traffic jams, addictive but unrewarding pastimes. That's what a metaphor is: a function applied to an argument of the wrong kind of people, I like to work with a huge weight of expectation on his shoulders. What makes the nerds rich, usually, is stock options. This problem afflicts not just every era, but in both cases we suggested their first priority should be to find a cofounder, what should you do?

What would someone who was the opposite of down and dirty would be up and clean. So working for yourself makes your brain more powerful in the same place they come to meet investors. And yet Y Combinator showed us we were still overestimating people who'd been to elite colleges. But does it do this out of frivolity? The unfortunate writer would then sit down to work with you on your current idea, switch to an idea people want to lead in it, and they all said they'd prefer to hire someone who'd tried to start a startup doing something technically difficult, just write enterprise software. Audiences have to be resourceful. But for what it's worth, as a sort of golden triangle involving doctors, Mercedes 450SLs, and tennis. What you want to know whether to recruit someone as a cofounder. The finance guys seemed scrupulous about reporting earnings. It is possible to slow time somewhat. I will get in trouble for appearing to be writing about things I don't understand. It seems that, for the average engineer, more options just means more work for me, because just in the last ten years the Internet has the most effect.

I didn't want as the top one, rather than because they wanted to; they're probably required to by law.5 There are two main reasons. If you'd been around when that change began around 1000 in Europe it would have seemed to nearly everyone that running off to the city to make your fortune was a crazy thing to do, at least, how I write one. Large organizations have different aims from hackers. They're not just beautiful, but strangely beautiful. They would just look at you blankly. It seems obvious when you put it that way too.

Notes

What they must do is fund medical research labs; commercializing whatever new discoveries the boffins throw off is as straightforward as building a new version from which I removed a pair of metaphors that made them register. There are fields now in which internal limits are expressed. But that turned out to be on fewer boards at once, or the presumably larger one who shouldn't? A more powerful than ever.

Look at what adults told children in the world, but less than 1. How many times that conversation was repeated. Till then they had no government powerful enough to supply the activation energy required to switch to OSX.

To do this all the page-generating templates are still a dick move. Become correspondingly more important than the long tail for sports may be to write an essay that will cause the brand gap between the top schools are, which shows how unimportant the Arpanet which became the Internet. The VCs recapitalize the company and fundraising at the exact same thing—trying to figure this out.

Incidentally, this is the way and run the programs on the proceeds of the biggest discoveries in any era if people are like sheep, but they were friendlier to developers than Apple is now the founder visa in a rice cooker, if you don't even sound that plausible. Org Worrying that Y Combinator was a false positive, this is largely true, because for times over a hundred and one VC. If you don't know yet what they're really saying is they want it.

That's the trouble with fleas, they will come at an academic talk might appreciate a joke, they have that glazed over look. Most smart high school junior. The other reason they pay a premium for you; who knows who you start fundraising, because it aggregates data from so many people mistakenly think it was too late to launch.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #qualities #place #competitors #triangle #union #OSX #century #templates #data #pastimes #reason #random #work #difference #fields #reasons #mouth #obedience #Maybe #boards #magazines #conversation #replacement #research #serfs

[captain-sili]

T'noying Puns

Rating: Teen

Random: Star Trek (technically)

Word count: 1,020

Warnings: Cursing

Tags: @zode-333 @silverwolf1523 @onedamnminuteadmiral @outside-the-government @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @bonesmctightass (gonna add you unless you don’t want me too :3)

Summary: During a stressful day, and with the help of a little coffee, Sili’ decides to return T'noys puns.

Authors Note: Just a little request from my friend. Probably bad but ehh. My apologies for any bad spacing. Transferring from docs to here sucks.

~

It is a typical day here at the NSA. Reports coming and going, engineers busy fixing machines, and a ton of coffee. I am well aware that I should not be drinking this much coffee, but with all the work I have had recently, it helps. You see, to Nitalians, alcohol has no effect on us, however, coffee does. It can intoxicate us if we are not careful with how we drink it. That is why, according to T’noy, I drink my coffee “paler than I am.” The creamer and sweetener help cancel out the intoxicating effects. However, even though it does help cancel out the effects, it does not completely get rid of them. The more I drink, the worse I get. You can probably tell that I am rambling on way too much on a topic that is unimportant at the moment. Anyway, I suppose I should stop drinking coffee for the day.

I push my chair out and stand up. I have to get the new reports from T’noy and read over them. All is very busy during times of war, and these reports will tell if we are in the clear. Sybok has many different tricks up his sleeve, and has sent scouts out on multiple occasions. My navigators have spotted signs of tampering with important machines, that is damaged, could set us back by another week, leaving us vulnerable to attack. This is either a sign of Sybok’s doing, or potentially traitors. This would not be the first time that some foolish Nitalians have decided to mess around with things that they should not be messing with, or purposely attempting to damage NSA property. For the sake of saving time, I would prefer if it was Sybok’s doing. Dealing with traitors would involve multiple questionings over the course of several days, and we do not have enough time for that. If there are Tronians here, however, it will be a simpler process. A interrogation session will be held, and if no information is given by the intruders, they will be executed. It may seem harsh, but we cannot afford to let any of our enemies off the hook and let them roam free. They could acquire information and return to Sybok with ways to hurt or damage us. The last thing we need during a time like this is a physical weakness to be made known to Sybok.

  I head down the corridor to the meeting room. I had told T’noy to gather up some officers and discuss our new plan with them. The more officers to be familiar with the plan, the better. Besides, it is best to get multiple opinions on the plan, for even I, make mistakes, especially since I am running off of less than an hour of sleep for the week. Doctor K’dun’ai has not stopped berating me about my lack of sleep. He does not understand that there is just not enough time for me to sleep more than absolutely necessary. I am constantly going back and forth from the meeting rooms, to the engine rooms, to the report room. There is just no time to sleep.

  I notice several officers running down the hallway with stacks of papers. I assumed that they were going to spread the workd of the new plan, since they had ran out of the meeting room. When I arrive at the meeting room, T’noy walks over with a handful of paper.

  “We are almost done talking about the new plan. I have all the notes written down here.” T’noy says handing me the stack of paper. There are roughly 20 sheets of notes and information. Hopefully this will be enough to set this plan to action.

“Thank you, T’noy. This should be more than enough to get a basis for this plan.” I turn and start to walk away. After a few seconds T’noy is at my side walking in step.

  “You know, you really ought to take a break, Sili’. You’ve been working non-stop for the past week!” T’noy says throwing his hands up.

“There is not enough time for rest.”

“Bullshit.” T’noy swears. “You haven’t slept in a week, and you’re drinking way too much coffee in too little of a time.”

“I am perfectly fine, T’noy.” T’noy huffs at this getting frustrated by my lack of cooperation. I keep on walking down the corridor. I need to deliver these papers to my navigators, so that they can figure how long it would to take to carry out this plan.

“Sili’ you are being ridiculous. At the very least take a break for a while.” T’noy steps in front of me blocking my path. He will not stop until I either give him a job that requires him away from me, or I physically lock him outside of the room that I am in. I sigh and look up at him.

“For the last time, there is no time for breaks or rest. We are already running behind schedule, and have a lot that we need to catch up on. Not to mention we have visitors that could either be traitors or trespassers. Now either move out of my way, or head back to the meeting room where you are supposed to be.” I push past him and keep walking.

“Quit being Silly, and take a damn break.” T’noy says crossing his arms. I stop and turn around.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re really selling yourself short. You vul-can take a break you know?” T’noy smirks smugly at his puns. He does this quite often, along with some of the other high officers. Usually I ignore them and move on. However..

“Your puns are really starting to T’noy me" I say flatly. T’noy let’s his arms drop to his sides as he stares in disbelief.

“Holy shit you made a pun. Wait- mother fucker that was a pun with my name!” T’noy yells. Ignoring him, I continue my way down the corridor, leaving a frustrated and shocked T’noy behind. Perhaps I have had a bit too much coffee for the day.

#meraks trinity #captain sili' #first officer t'noy #star trek #star trek tos #sili' stories #sili' writes

[kpopfanfictrash]

Angel

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jackson

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4,074

Summary:  You’re a medical intern, always a perfectionist and used to being the best at everything you do. Jackson Wang is the male nurse beloved by everyone and constantly on your nerves. When you two are brought together, it could be the best or the worst thing that’s ever happened.

When you’re little, everyone gives the same answer when asked what they want to be when they grow up. A teacher, doctor, lawyer – some job they saw once in the movies and think is more glamorous than it is.

It’s odd the same answers come up, over and over again. Odd that some professions are seen as more desirable. You’ve never heard a five year old clutching their rag doll and wishing to be a benefits analyst who specializes in the dissolution of pension plans. And yet some people end up as this. 

You suppose it’s hypocritical of you to judge, since you’re currently on track to become a doctor yourself. Call it a God complex, call it narcissism – it may be a bit of both. Wanting to be a doctor is both, if you think about it. There’s someone about to die when here you come, swooping in to save them. Single handedly taking them from death - the concept is one of lunacy.

You didn’t always want to be a doctor. In fact, you wanted to be almost anything but. Everyone in your family is an engineer – computer, chemical, aerospace. They work in labs, in governments, for various research grants and you grew up thinking this was the noblest course to pursue. Devoting oneself to science, creation and furthering the human existence. Not prolonging the one you already have.

It was sometime around college you realized you were wrong about this. It was late in the library when you had your semi-epiphany. Struggling with learning the basic coding for a computer app. Also struggling to determine how any of this would make the world a better place. You were a computer engineer with the vague notion that one day you would work for the government. You wanted to combat the certain future of hacking, privacy disputes and governmental big brother-hood.

That night you were in the library. It was 11:00 pm when the sounds of someone choking reached your ears. It was behind you, over by the staircase and you raised your head in concern. Peering over the top of your booth in that way students do when there’s a disturbance they don’t actually want to disturb themselves with.

It was someone you recognized from psych – Lucy, you think her name was. She was sitting at one of the uncomfortable tables, hunched over her laptop while her friend pounded frantically on her back and looked around at blank faces. “Does anyone know CPR?” she yelled.

There was a long, horrible silence.

A moment where each person looked at the others and wondered why no was speaking up. Perhaps this was the only campus in America where no student was a camp counselor, no one had baby-sat or had siblings. Everyone stared at one another and no one acted, realizing then that they were completely useless when the situation was life or death.

Lucy continued to choke, cough disappearing as her air supply dwindled. All of a sudden a woman burst through the library doors. She skidded to a stop in front of Lucy, pulling her up to lock her arms around her. As she performed the Heimlich maneuver there was tense silence in the air. A moment where everyone looked left and right. Wondering if it was okay, if it was still polite to be here. To still be staring.

Slowly, people sank into their own seats. Not you. When the object finally popped out – a half-chewed stick of gum – you stared, wide-eyed as the woman relaxed. Lucy’s eyes filled with tears, voice raspy as she turned to thank her rescuer.

After that you looked down at your textbook. The words swam before your eyes, seeming suddenly unimportant. What did it matter if you invented the next big app? Or smoothed software for a new navigation device?

Without pausing to think about it, you slammed your book shut. “I’m going home,” you announced to your study group. Nodding, in affirmation of this fact. “Yep. I’m done.”

Then you left. The next morning at 8:00 am you walked into your guidance counselor’s office to declare a change of major. Yanking yourself from one life path and plopping onto another. Graduating on time would require a lot of effort but you managed it, catching up by the end of sophomore year. Taking the MCAT and applying to medical school at the same time as everyone else.

Some called it talent, others insanity. You thought it was a bit of both. You’ve always been smart, driven to the point of recklessness. You’re the kind of person to stay up not just the night before your exam but the whole week – subsisting on coffee and half-hour power naps until you pass.

The whole thing ended with you being accepted to one of the top medical schools in the country – a cause for both elation and nausea. It’s a tremendous opportunity but if you blow it... well. It’s a long fall from the top.

Your first day at the hospital was a blur of fear and excitement. Excitement that you’re doing the right thing for yourself. You’re doing what you want, doing something good. This was quickly followed by terror, since many people fail here. Most don’t have what it takes to become doctors.

Especially not the kind you want to be. An emergency room physician, one who specializes in internal medicine. It’s the kind of life which drains you, one normal people wouldn’t consider a life. It’s not just a job but a calling. It’s what you feel you’re meant to do – though most people don’t view their jobs like this either.

Emergency room life means sleeping in on-call rooms. Waiting for your pager to beep and when it does, knowing you won’t sit down again for several hours. Its patients in severe pain, unable to speak, not knowing how to communicate in anything but an unpleasant manner. It means late nights, erratic sleep patterns and seeing people at their absolute worst.

It’s also home to miracles. Small ones and big ones daily.

Just now, you’re not in the midst of either. You’re not saving or being yelled at – right now you’re sitting across from Marie in the on-call lounge, playing Go Fish with a deck of cards someone found jammed beneath the vending machine.

The only problem is you don’t really remember how to play. Things have grown more and more complicated as the game progresses. You remember the general premise of Go Fish: each person has cards and you try to collect pairs. The first person to run out wins. But how many cards do you start with? Do you just put down pairs or all four? If you get a pair, do you keep asking other people for cards?

Before long, both you and Marie are giggling uncontrollably. A hilarious combination of both your ineptitude and the dizzyingly long time it’s been since the two of you slept. You and Marie are in the middle of your med school internship. No longer in the neat portion where you sit at tables in classrooms and learn how to hold a scalpel (between the thumb and the middle finger, index finger supporting the blade from above).

Now you actually use a scalpel. There’s nothing to prepare you for that first time. The moment when you’re faced with a true crisis, staring at the wavering point between life and death – and are told by hastily to make an incision.

Hell, most people can’t even sew. Expecting someone to close a human is just insane. This is partly why you aren’t specializing in surgery – something you’ve never considered a strong suit. You’ve always been drawn to the problem-solving part of medicine. Being presented with symptoms and determining what’s wrong. Determining how to treat someone, making them better.

“Go fish,” Marie declares, nodding at the pile.

You frown as you survey the table. “Okay. This seems wrong.”

There are no more cards left to draw from. Instead they’re in piles, some in pairs and some in fours. You stare at the chaos, then back to your own cards. “Don’t you have all the cards I need, then?”

Marie shrugs mysteriously. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Anyone drop a three of hearts?”

Your head turns, frown deepening when you see Jackson Wang. He’s smiling – of course he is. Rarely is Jackson without a smile, something which constantly annoys you.  Seeing him so positive, so cheerful makes you feel guilty. Guilty, because you’re not like that.

Everyone here loves Jackson – of course they do. Jackson is the human equivalent of sunshine. The one time you mentioned your personal aversion to Marie, she was appalled. “But,” she gaped, staring at you. “It’s Jackson.”

You nodded. “Yeah. So?”

“But.” Marie floundered, apparently at a loss for words. “It’s Jackson.”

“Yeah,” you repeated, eyes narrowing. “So?”

“He’s just…” Marie couldn’t seem to find an adjective. “He’s so perfect.”

At this, you frowned. “No one is perfect.”

“Maybe not,” Marie admitted, blowing on her tea. “But Jackson Wang is a pretty close synonym.”

Jackson walks into the room, ruffling the back of his hair and yawning widely before he drops into the seat beside you. “Ugh,” he groans, stretching both arms overhead. A small strip of his flat stomach shows between forest-green scrubs and you quickly look away.

“Bad day?” Marie grimaces.

Jackson rubs his face with both hands, pulling his cheeks down. “Long day,” he agrees, scanning the game before him. “Hey. That’s not how you play.”

Marie nods, her expression sad. “We thought not.”

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, setting your cards at your elbow.

Jackson looks over in surprise. The two of you rarely talk. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “You’re only supposed to put down cards if you have all four,” he points out, gesturing towards the pairs on the table.

Marie groans. “See, I thought there was something off!”

Nudging the deck, Jackson struggles to hide his smile. “You also don’t play until you run out. You play until the end of the deck and then you add up who has the most points.”

That does make sense. “Thanks,” you say, careful to keep your expression neutral. “Much appreciated.”

Jackson nods, gaze lingering. “Anytime.” He smiles, a gesture so bright you wince. No one should have a smile so perfect.

Abruptly you stand, pushing your chair back so it scrapes the linoleum. “I’m going to get coffee,” you declare, turning away.

Behind you, Marie says something to Jackson. You don’t hear what either says but he laughs, prompting at least three other people to join in. Jackson’s laugh tends to have that effect.

Turning the corner brings you before the staff coffee maker. To your left are rooms with bunk beds – places for employees to crash between shifts or wait on call. The door to your right opens to the main floor of the hospital. White hallways and sterile sheets, home to madness and miracles both.

The machine cranks to life, dispensing something resembling coffee as you wrinkle your nose. Picking a cup from the stack of disposable ones, you’re displeased to notice your hand trembling. You only got two hours of sleep last night because you were up late studying. You don’t have time to think about this for long though, since the door on your right opens to reveal two nurses.

“But did you see,” one of them hisses – Jordan, in fervent discussion with the other. “Jackson saved that intern’s butt – again. The guy was about to administer the wrong dosage but Jackson caught it. Switched it out and said nothing.”

The other girl shakes her head. “Typical,” she sighs. “Some med school marvel thinking thinks they know everything and Jackson has to bail them out again.”

You slam the coffee grounds down, satisfied when they both jump. Noticing the light blue color of your scrubs, the girl you don’t know at least has the decency to blush.

“Hey, Y/N.” Jordan smiles at you, raising an eyebrow. “How are things going?” She doesn’t slow for your answer, brushing past.

“Just great,” you mutter. Jordan’s sleek black hair bounces behind her as she walks and you sadly look at your own, bare shoulders. You wear your hair up most days you’re at the hospital. It’s easier to hide the grease that way.

You’ve never gotten along with Jordan, though this seems to be on par with normal relations between med students and nurses. At the start of your career, nurses have more knowledge than you do. It must be annoying to see you come in with freshly laundered scrubs and entitled attitudes, thinking you know better because you’ve studied for three years.

Objectively, you know this. Objectively, you should cut her some slack but still Jordan bugs you. The snide glances and comments she gives just serve to remind you that you know nothing. You know nothing and are usually wrong – something you’ve never been all that great at handing. Your hand tightens around your cup as the two girls’ voices fade to the background.

At your hip, your pager beeps.

A glance downwards says that Doctor Banshin is paging you to room 403. It’s not an emergency code but really, anything in the hospital is an emergency. Pushing open the door, you break into a jog as you round the corner.

When you enter room 403, Dr. Banshin is already inside. He looks up, nodding once at your presence without actually stopping what he’s doing. Which is – oh. Your stomach lurches. He’s prepping for a lumbar puncture. Dr. Banshin waves you in, gesturing with a gloved hand. “Here,” he says. “Nurse Cinche is out sick, so you’ll be assisting me today. Scrub up.”

“Right.” You waver for just for a moment before letting the door fall shut behidn you. Your heart races – it’s rare for a medical intern to be asked to assist with this procedure. The fact that Dr. Banshin has asked you means he has confidence in your abilities. Confidence above the other interns. A small bubble of pride swells in your chest.

One quickly squashed when you come face to face with the patient’s back. You stare, wide-eyed at the displayed flesh, open beneath a sterile, blue hospital gown. The man is curled into the fetal position, a stout middle-aged male with a rather large bald spot. He’s drowsy from painkillers, body dulled with local anesthesia.

Dr. Banshin looks expectantly at you. “Well?” He glances at your hands. “Are you just going to gape or will you begin the procedure?”

“Begin,” you manage to say. You step to the side, scrubbing up while mentally preparing for the outpatient procedure. You’ve studied this a million times. Theoretically you know what should happen and once you’re ready, you move to the doctor’s side.

“Right,” he nods, pulling out utensils. “We think the patient has meningitis. The fluid from the procedure should confirm or deny this. What else can we learn from a lumbar puncture, Y/N?”

“Um.” You blink, struggling to focus. Your hand shakes, revealing your long night of studying, so you take a deep breath to hide it. “Right. A lumbar puncture could show various bacterial or viral infections, bleeding of the brain, certain cancers involving the spine or brain –"

You’re talking as you work, guiding the needle to the correct spot between vertebrae. You squint at his skin, trying to focus. The needle is just above his skin, about to break when Dr. Banshin suddenly swears. “No, no, no,” he snaps, covering your hand and yanking you away. “That was too far to the right. You could have punctured his lung.” Muttering something about vague incompetency, he steps in front of you.

You move aside, limbs gone suddenly cold. Dr. Banshin doesn’t look up, repositioning the needle against his skin. “You can go,” he says, dismissing you. “Send in Nurse Kelvin.”

That’s Jordan. Shoving open the door, you scan the hall. “Jordan,” you call, spotting her at the corner. “You’re needed in room 403.”

Jordan looks up, surprised. She glances first at you, then the room behind you and understanding slowly dawns. “Couldn’t hack it?” she smirks.

“Shove it up your ass,” you mutter, pushing past. 

Tears form in your eyes and you don’t wait for a reply, hastening away from her down the hall. Heading towards the parking lot, not even pausing before you shove open the doors.

It’s dark outside. You blink, having been certain it was mid-afternoon. The cool air hits your face, awash with the scent of night and pavement and you lean slowly the railing, lowering your face into your hands to breathe. After a long moment, you exhale. Struggling not to release actual tears – those you save for home. Right now you just need to regain yourself before going back in to finish your shift.

Behind you, the door opens.

You keep your head down, praying whomever it is will just walk past. Will walk past and not recognize you but instead they walk towards you. Coming to a stop beside you to also lean on their elbows. Exhaling deeply.

“Yes, Jackson?” you mutter without looking up.

He laughs – almost to himself. “It gets better.”

The silence lengthens until at last, you turn to face him. “And what if it doesn’t?”

Jackson is already looking back. “It will,” he says, voice serious for once. “You’re smart. Everyone messes up, everyone panics.”

At his words, something loosens ever so slightly. For the first time since your banishment from room 403, the tears don’t threaten to spill over. Staring out at the parking lot, you survey the sea of cement and cars and artificial lighting. The employee lot is mostly empty – everyone either inside or having gone home for the night.

Biting your lip, you continue to stare at the parked cars. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Jackson seems surprised by this. “What do you mean?”

You shrug, the sound of insects buzzing the only other sound in the night. “You heard me,” you say. “I’m nothing but rude. Why would you care?”

Jackson laughs, the sound of it low – not his usual cackle. “Y/N.” He waits until you look at him. “Today I’ve been vomited on, yelled at three times – none of which was my fault – accused of attempted murder and tripped. You being slightly chilly after losing your game of Go Fish is the least of my worries.” 

Flushing, you realize how silly you sound. “Right,” you nod. “Sorry about that.” 

Jackson pushes himself off the railing. He stares at the doors behind you. “Do you know why I came out after you?”

You shake your head.

Jackson smiles. “It’s because you care.”

Without meaning to, you snort. Glancing down at the ground because your cheeks are burning and for some reason you don’t want him to see. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jackson laughs again, leaning on the railing. “I mean it. You might not care about me, or even like me very much – but you care about this hospital. You care about your patients. You want to be a good doctor so badly you’re out here crying because you messed up your first attempt at an advanced procedure – one most medical interns are never even asked to help with in the first place.”

At this, you frown. “I like you,” you retort, so automatic that it sounds fake. You wince. “I mean… thank you for saying that.”

Jackson nods, matter-of-fact. “Look, you don’t have to like me. Not everyone does. I just wanted to let you know why I like you.”

This makes you look up at him. “You like me?”

Jackson shrugs, smile widening. “Yeah, well. Don’t get too cocky – I also like Marta, the lunch lady. She gives me cupcakes.” When you shove him he laughs, catching his balance. “Ready to go back inside?”

You glance at the cold, metal doors. “But what if I mess up?” you ask, hating how small your voice is. How unsure you sound. “What if there’s no Dr. Banshin around that time to fix things?” Your thoughts travel to that medical intern’s error Jackson caught just this morning.

Jackson falls silent. “It’s probably not something you want to hear, Y/N,” he hesitates. “But there’s going to come a time where you mess up and it’s going to be your fault.”

You look up at him, startled.

Jackson’s eyes are serious, burning no matter how you try to look away. He’s very good-looking. You knew this objectively of course, but were never able to focus on it beyond his happy-go-lucky attitude. You tend to like more serious guys. Guys as studious and driven as you are. Jackson’s eyes, though. You could lose yourself in those eyes.

Jackson continues to look at you. “You’re human, Y/N,” he says, voice gentle. “You will mess up and most of the time someone will catch it – but not always. Even if you miraculously make it through your forty-plus years of medical career without fucking something up, there will always be that voice inside you asking if you could have done more.”

It’s as though Jackson’s looked inside your brain. Seen every fear you have and understood them all. You stare back, transfixed as he continues.

“Could you have stayed later? What if you’d asked that doctor in oncology about this rare form of cancer? What if you’d given that dosage at this point in time?”

Your heart pounds as Jackson lists all the terrifying thoughts you think to yourself late at night. Stating them all calmly, as though they’re normal. As though you’re normal.

Jackson nods at your expression. “You’ll always think that Y/N,  it’s the sign of a good doctor. The question is, can you move past it or will it cripple you? I think you’re one of the rare people who can do this, and do it well. You just can’t forget that for every crappy thing which happens in this place – there are far more miracles.”

Staring at the big, silent building behind him you find yourself feeling calm once more. Calm enough to glance in Jackson’s direction. “Thank you,” you say, somewhat hesitant.

Jackson nods and for the first time, you notice the dark circles beneath his eyes. You think back to what Jackson said earlier – today he’s been puked on, yelled at and tripped. You recall Jackson being here even earlier than you were. When does Jackson ever get to take a break?

“Jackson,” you say, swallowing your nerves. “I’m not great at making friends. People tend to think I’m intense, that I lack empathy.” Jackson raises an eyebrow and you flush. “I never meant to hurt you, if I ever have. I think you’re a great nurse and sometimes… sometimes it’s intimidating to be around you.”

Jackson places his hand over his heart. “Me? Intimidating? I never.”

You stick out your tongue.

Jackson grins. “I’ll add that to my resume. Six foot three, 50% fluff, 50% intimidation. Catch me on weekends baking or arm wrestling – who knows which? I like to mix it up.”

You cross your arms and grin. “Six foot three?”

Jackson drops into a frown. “I never indicated units of measurement, okay?”

At that, you start to laugh. “Dammit,” you grin, shaking your head.

Jackson’s smile falters. “What?”

Shaking your head, you walk towards the doors of the hospital. “I think I’m actually starting to like you.”

Jackson snorts, quickly following. “I thought you already did,” he teases, grabbing the handle to yank it open.

You roll your eyes as you step inside. “Yes, well. Now I mean it.” Glancing back at him, you smile. “Thanks, Jackson.”

He allows the door to fall shut behind him. “Anytime.”

Just then, a man rounds the corner. “Jackson!” he gasps, coming to a halt. “Come quick, room 209 – it’s that same issue from yesterday. Could you –?”

Jackson is already taking off in a run. “Bye, Y/N!” he calls out, rounding the corner. “Good luck with the shift!”

Then he’s gone, forest-green scrubs disappeared down the hall’. You stare after him for a little while before shaking your head to continue on. When you leave the hospital that night – much, much later that night – it’s to the realization you might not need those tears you saved after all.

Maybe tonight you’ll actually get some sleep.

You hope Jackson does, too - a thought which surprises you.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone who has been anticipating this series and happy early birthday to the anon who wrote me earlier this month! Angel will be a seven part series featuring Jackson. Hope you enjoy! 

#kWritersNet #noonanet #got7 fanfiction #jackson wang fanfiction #jackson wang #got7 jackson #jackson wang fanfic #jackson wang fic #jackson wang fluff #jackson fic #jackson fanfic #jackson fanfiction #got7 fanfic #got7 fluff #got7 fic #jackson wang au

[kirkcut]

hc’s from old blog, part one.

He sleeps in small chunks twice a day, schedule rotating as he changes shifts- 4am until 7am, then 4pm ‘til 7pm when on alpha, then 12am-3am/12pm-3pm when on beta.

He prefers beta shift in general, but you don’t always get what you want.

Sensitive to stims- more than just his caffeine gives him the jitters and won’t touch the stuff unless it’s an emergency.

Jim’s 5′10″ and a master of making himself seem bigger- mostly through sheer force of personality and convenient positioning.

During his free time, Kirk likes to study. He considers it necessary for a good leader to understand the basics of everything that happens in his ship- whether it’s of personal interest or not. Engineering is his favorite to study- in another lifetime, he may have studied it at Starfleet. He’s not as good as a specialist and leaves them to their jobs, but he can at least follow  along with the conversations around him

Essentially pretends he didn’t exist before he showed up at the bar before joining the Academy. He hasn’t told anyone about the years before, not even Bones. He has no plan of telling or talking about it to anyone, either.

Jim’s favorite comfort food, asides from any dessert he can get his hands on, is garlic bread. He’s been known to eat a few sticks for dinner on bad days, and don’t even try asking him to share. He falls in platonic love easily- he loves his friends, he loves his crew, he loves his ship and he loves space. Romantic love is another story. For the longest time he believed that people were just making it up, unable to understand a feeling like it. Even when in a romantic relationship, he’s not sure if he’s in romantic love with someone or just letting his platonic love get out of control.I guess this means he’s a grey aromantic.

Most of the time, sex isn’t an act of intimacy. Sex (and by extension, his attractive body) is just another tool that can be used to leverage a situation into his favor, get what he wants. Sometimes it’s to not be alone for a night, sometimes it’s to get off, sometimes it’s to inject code into tests and become the first to beat it.

He’s quite willing to sacrifice his body to protect his mind. To him, his flesh is unimportant, a means to an end- but his mind is far more precious. Protecting it and keeping most of it hidden is a major decider for what he does. It also throws him for a loop when people can just brush off his body and go for his mind in a relationship.

His favorite snack is cranberries.

He’s also got the starfleet medical manual practically memorized. Jim is no doctor, but he knows his way around first aid and is weirdly knowledgeable in specific areas…from quizzing Bones to help the guy study.

He doesn’t blame his mother for anything. Frank, Tarsus. She was just doing her best and made some mistakes along the way. He understands it much better now that he’s older and hopes to cautiously reach out and try to bring to life their current barren relationship.

Jim’s never really off duty. The only times he’s completely unapproachable by others (unless it’s an emergency) is the six hours he sleeps. Or rather, sets aside to sleep, he doesn’t always get a full rest.

During the year spent recovering from Khan and waiting to get airborne again, he taught a few classes in the Academy- including one specifically built around the kobayashi maru simulation. It’s mostly for command track cadets, but he welcomes students of other tracks to stop by. It was co-taught and co-designed by Spock.

He can do an impressive range of whistles, including mimicking various machines.

Writes to his nephew Peter regularly

.Likes a lot of different music and almost always has some on when he’s ‘off duty’.

Pretends he can’t dance. He’s actually not too shabby at various ballroom styles.

Jim wants to give everyone a chance and wants to see them succeed in their lives and careers. He finds pleasure in helping to bring out the best in people, supporting their interests and giving them nudges when and where they need it. 

Jim has claustrophobia. How bad it is varies from day to day, but in general he is very reluctant to go somewhere like a Jefferies tube. He can, however, trick his mind into letting him do certain things if he moves fast enough.He also has a mild fear of the dark and would really, really prefer to not be left in the dark for too long. It’s manageable though.

Panic attacks aren’t anything new to him, as much as he wishes they were. He’s normally pretty good at avoiding things that can set them off, but sometimes it just happens. When it does, the old instinct to go hide until he can face others pops up. In general, engineering is his favorite place to go and hide because of how many nooks there are.

Jim has a bunch of games he plays with himself to try and force himself out of an attack, depending on the cause and what’s happening. There’s the counting game, the breathing game, and the memory game. The counting game is easy- five things you can see, four you can hear, three you can smell, two you can feel, one you can taste. The breathing game is making his chest touch his hands held in front of him, and see how high he can get his streak. The memory game is reciting Starfleet’s ships by class.

Pike left him the small place he owned just off from the Academy and the majority of it’s contents. As he recovered, he moved from using a walking frame to one of the walking sticks that had been left to him.

#ミ☆━━ officer information.❞ 「 hc 」

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An instructor for specialized curriculum need on work together for class administrators, all instruction teachers, class therapists, psychologists, Furthermore guardian Furthermore guardians. Learners with gentle handicap have Right away been included to standard classroom teaching, as stated by the procurements of the people for Disabilities instruction (IDEA) enactment. This need prompted all Also specialized escape houston  curriculum educators attempting together, regularly with those assistance of the best fun instructive applications. Those part of those teacher Previously, a all classroom, includes educating support those educational program and surveying Also assessing extraordinary kids. Its imperative that An the teacher acquires Previously, An situated for individual aptitudes to upgrade learner Taking in. Abilities of both the all instructor's testament and the bmw houston   uncommon teacher ought further bolstering meet up to help a learner.

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Coordinated effort will be A critical a piece of a extraordinary educator's job, in any case about which and only class training he/she will be included with. If its attempting with the school administration, other teachers, parents, guardians, counselors, or therapists, an extraordinary teacher need on worth of effort Concerning illustration and only a less group for the improvement from claiming exceptional know youngsters. Those scratch and dent appliances needs of a exceptional kid are substantially unique in relation to that of a neuro-typical. Besides, each tyke will be distinctive. The best entertainment only instructive applications might keep the tyke captivated Furthermore conferring imperative social abilities. Today, i am an extraordinary training instructor's testament. However, i could at present recall The point when i might have been adolescent Also go to doctoral level college matriculated in the social investigations educating help system. Since i needed will be An history teacher, not an extraordinary training teacher, its sort wtw5000dwof clever that the greater part these A long time after the fact i am educating custom curriculum. How finished this happen? Well, the same manner it happened for some others excessively awful i guess.

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Clinched alongside addition, today there need aid more instances about people with different disabilities during a more youthful agdistis. The national instruction cooperation (NEA) says that there need been An 30% build for specialized curriculum people since 2006. Finally, toss in those secondary turn-over rate of educators over such An requesting field Furthermore one could effectively see that our nation over need An problem, and System network training   that issue is just setting off to get greater.

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Clinched alongside An word, its overpowering. Only recognizing the disabilities side alone, an extraordinary instruction cell phone repair training online  educator's testament need to have the ability with faultlessly recognizing and treat needs that Might make In view of Taking in deficiencies or much distinctive styles, and also those mental, emotional, Furthermore actually social deficiencies as well. Furthermore, specialized curriculum instructors also must realize the thing that will would with the opposite side of the range a really for those skilled scholars.

Basically, not main do they need monstrous kin aptitudes clinched alongside managing various sorts about people Also adults, in any case they also must affection those flightiness of the field, and must a chance to be a adherent for possibilities, and additionally have those most elevated manifestation for intelligence, which will be called sympathy. Not sensitivity here, Anyhow sympathy. There is An Contrast the middle of sympathy Also sensitivity. Specialized curriculum instructors cell phone repair training  have the sum about these specified aptitudes Also a greater amount so as with only survive those day, let a whole vocation over these training trenches.

So, the thing that could we would around this shortage? Well, exactly class locale need been creatively attempting with their nearby colleges Also making uncommon projects the place instructor's testament hopefuls might worth of effort full-time Similarly as educators for two a considerable length of time with get educating help encounter same time they try on school during night will get their degree. Exactly one school locale bring advertised marking bonuses, stipends and educational cost repayment done their exertions to draw in additional educators. These are useful A+ certification training  plans. However, these sort of activities are not constantly completed sufficient. A few class locale are putting forth youthful instructors mentors on help their exertions and the table direction to an endeavor should chop down on the wearing down rate. Again, this is an alternate great idea, in any case not sufficient locale would completing this Possibly.

I customized feel that a standout amongst those toughest things regarding continuously in this field is those absence of deference to what these unsung legends would for a Every day foundation. Those absence of regard will be making low instructor's testament resolve What's more crashing a considerable measure more instructors out of the training field over i imagine practically for us would eager to concede. Furthermore this low instructor's testament resolve Also absence of admiration for our country's instructors may be something that is avoidable, and something that we might settle Assuming that we need to do it awful enough. Finally, Exactly with get an outsider's perspective, i approached my wife the thing that she possibility Might be a standout amongst the answers for those custom curriculum instructor's testament lack issue and she said, "More pay!".

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