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silverlysilence · 4 years

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Hidden at Hogwarts

So @fabllama02 recently reblogged a post about how the RotBTD Hogwarts AUs got their Houses all wrong (though it does mention how Hiccup was sorted correctly in Ravenclaw and I was like, WTF?! Most of the art I see is with Hiccup as Hufflepuff, which is believable, but Ravenclaw is obviously the right choice there, but I’m digressing).

Anyways, it points out how Jack Frost should be in Hufflepuff and that got me thinking...

Jackson Overland was by no means the best student to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He probably would have been sorted into Ravenclaw House if that were the case but neither had he received a Troll or Dreadful on his any of his O.W.L.s. The worst he got was a Poor in History of Magic but he blamed having a ghost for a professor for that one. The rest of his O.W.L. were Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations with an Outstanding in Transfiguration that surprised even himself.

Still, despite it being only a few weeks into his sixth year, Jackson was already counting down the days until the end of the term. Most students would balk at wanting to leave Hogwarts—well, at least when it wasn’t exam time—because it was the best school in all of Europe. However, the majority of the school had something he didn’t.

Friends.

Oh, don’t get him wrong, Jackson did have friends. A lot of them if he was being honest but none of them went to Hogwarts. They either attended regular school or went to one of the other two prestigious European schools of magic. He was fine with that, in the beginning, since he received acceptance letters from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well and could have followed his friends if he desired to.

But Jackson Overland was stubborn and he wanted to attend the alma mater he read about from his mother’s schoolgirl diary. The young ten-year-old him believed he would make new lifelong friends at Hogwarts and then he’d wouldn’t be sad his other friends weren’t there with him. The train ride had been a great start, he’d bounced around from compartment to compartment, talking with anyone willing and learning a fair share of Hogwarts outside of what he’d learned from books and secondhand accounts.

Then his Sorting took place.

Ravenclaw was the first to be discarded for the simple reason that he didn’t seek knowledge for the joy of knowing as many of the House so often did and he wasn’t one to believe intelligence was everything. Knowing didn’t matter when one didn’t have the courage or drive to do something with it. He was sad, though. Sad that Ravenclaw was immediately taken off the table when air was their element, that stung since he did so love being up in the air, surrounded by the winds.

He wasn’t surprised that Gryffindor was the next House to be rejected. Jackson could be brave and daring when he needed too, but only when it involved others. Not only that, but fire wasn’t his thing and with it being Gryfindor’s corresponding element, he could live without being a member of the House.

That left two options that the Hat painstakingly struggled with: Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

Hufflepuffs were hard-working, dedicate, patience, and loyalty. All of which could describe Jackson to the letter, when he felt like it. He could be dedicated and hard-working if that meant more time for fun. He had patience—how else could he survive year from year at Hogwarts without being patient?—and was fiercely loyal. Even better, earth was the element for Hufflepuff.

Before he could get too excited over that fact, the Hat began considering the last option.

Slytherin House.

Jackson actually knew more about the House than any of the others. His mother’s diary described many of late nights sitting under one of the silver lamps hanging from the ceiling in the Slytherin’s cold common room. Cold because the common room lies beneath the element of their House, water from the Black Lake, but the warmth of her words spoke of fondness for her House. He might not have the same ambition to become the world’s youngest Potion Mistress as his mother, but his determination and need to toe the line in regards to the rules—he was testing their elasticity—was something they both had in common. Add in his cunningness and resourcefulness nature when pulling off a prank that even impressed the sole portrait—hidden in an antechamber of one of the countless secret passageways Jackson passed his time searching—of a younger Salazar Slytherin and he could very well fit in with people of similiar values.

In the end, the Hat had allowed him to choose and he’d chosen loyalty. Loyalty to a mother he had vague memories of and a diary full of stories he often dreamed about.

Jackson Overland was draped in the silver and greens of the Slytherin House that night sealing his fate.

The next morning, as he giddily bounced through the halls, cheerfully greeting anyone he passed, he noticed the change. Where the same students had been happy to help and answer his exuberant questions on the train, they took one look at the colors of his tie and turned up their noses, ignoring him. It soon became apparent by choosing Slytherin, he had effectively alienated the other three-fourths of Hogwarts. It was disheartening and had him dragging his feet as he tried again and again with other members of the various Houses only to be met with the same result.

At least he had his own House. The House his mother loved so dearly. There was just one problem. A small difference between his mother and him.

Phoebe Black was as Pure-blood as they came and from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black before she’d been struck off the tapestry.

Jackson Overland was a Half-blood.

Nothing more than a Mudblood in the eyes of his Housemates.

He quickly learned none of them would approach him outside the confines of the dormitories in fear of another student of a different House or teacher seeing them and tarnishing the reputation of Slytherin, inside was another matter. His homework would always disappear, ink bottles shattered and quills snapped. None of his school robes were destroyed as that would reflect badly on the House and possibly lose them points, his muggle clothes, on the other hand, were mere rags. Worse was their constant taunts and name-calling.

It was no wonder Jackson had taken to hiding away in Hogwarts as much as possible. When he wasn’t in class or sleeping behind heavily warded curtains, he was invisible. Practically a ghost. For Merlin’s sake, Profession Binns routinely forgot he was a student and would give him Ghost Letters as reading material.

Thankfully, The Grey Lady caught him attempting to decipher the ghostly writing to no avail one day and kindly read the translucent notes out loud for him to copy down on a sheet of parchment. He thanked her by placing a single lily flower in the small niche window seat she so often haunted. Since then, it had become a tradition, when Jackson received Ghost Letters, the Grey Lady would read them aloud for him, and a lily would be put in place the next day.

A process he was repeating once more, gently tucking the Moonbeam Lily that in no way shape or form came from the Forbidden Forest next to the blue and silver pillow. Making sure flower was visible and would be easily spotted, he quickly retreated to one of the hidden passages Salazar informed him of and waited. He didn’t have to wait too long for the Grey Lady to float down the hallway, passing his hiding spot, where she came to a halt next to the window.

Amber eyes gleamed in happiness when he saw lips forever in a grim expression tilt upwards. Jackson didn’t know if she knew he always stuck around long enough—sometimes hours—just to see her reaction. To him, it was the best part, because if it made the usual solemn ghost happy for a small moment and that made him happy.

He was just about to take a step back and head down the path at his back when a polite nasally voice drifted down the hall, rooting the brunet to the spot. He couldn’t see the person but the distinguishable clinking of metal against stone every other step was a dead giveaway. Amber eyes immediately caught sight as tall auburn-haired wearing the same blue and bronze ties as the bulky blond at his side as they made their way pasted his hiding place, animatedly discussing the Triwizard Tournament announcement. Undoubtedly on their way to their common room to get quills and ink to submit their names into the Goblet of Fire.

It was only after they were long gone, voices but a distant memory that Jackson let out his breath.

“Why do you not talk to him?”

Jackson didn’t jump, but it was a near thing. Instead, he leaned up against the wall and allowed himself to slide down, sitting in the darkness with only the silvery-grey light cast from the Grey Lady for light. Drawing his knees to himself, he rested his arms on top and buried his head as if that would further hide him from the world.

“I’d rather not,” the brunet shrugged languidly.

“I do not understand. You often stare at him, and speak fondly of his deeds, but you never approach him,” the Grey Lady glided over towards the teenager. “Why is that?”

“Because Hiccup bloody Haddock doesn’t know I existed despite having the biggest crush on him?” Jackson mumbled into his arms.

“Yet I have heard you fondly speak of the first time you saw him on multiple occasions.”

“Again, he didn’t know I was there,” Jackson hummed, the memory of his fourth year unbiddenly rise to the surface.

He had just fled Charms class, slipping into the nearest hidden passageway leading to the kitchens for some lunch away from the Great Hall when he heard the deep nasally voice doing a poor imitation of a Scottish accent. Normally, he would have kept on walking, the prospect of learning a few new recipes from the eager House Elves more of a lure, but the laughter of children had his curiosity peeked.

Following the laughter led him to a brick wall, but a tap from his wand on an indented stone had the brick sliding back, giving him a glimpse inside the usually unused classroom currently filled with a group first and second years—ties of all colors sans the stark greens and silver of his own—sitting in a circle as a teenager—lacking the telltale tie and all important crest emblazoned robes—read from a book in one hand while waving his wand about in the other hand as he paced inside the circle.

The floating veils above the auburn hair swirled before one floated down, passing by another heading upwards to rejoin the group. The teenager began reading again as the veil floated around the circle for all the children to get a good look at and when he was finished describing the properties, he asked the group for the name of the plant. One of the Hufflepuff offered up a name but the teen’s voice took on the horrible Scottish accent once more as he listed how her answer was wrong in a humorous, fun way as to not embarrass her.

It was in that moment, watching the unknown teen spend his lunch hour teaching the younger students about the various potion ingredients and their properties their Potions Master should have taught them—the bastard hadn’t, Jackson knew that from his experience dealing with the man in his capacity as both a professor and Head of House Slytherin—in preparation for the upcoming exams that his interest in the teen grew.

From then on, Jackson kept an eye out for the auburn-haired teen and observed. The next time amber eyes caught a glimpse of him it was with him fumbling with his blue and bronze tie as he hurried into the fifth year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class a few seconds before the bell rang. Jackson was a bit surprised that the unknown teen was a year ahead of him, instead of behind as he initially thought, but he wasn’t surprised to find out he was a Ravenclaw. A week later, the Slytherin learn his name from his hefty blonde Housemate shouting it from across the courtyard as he pulled the notorious Thorston twins from House Hufflepuff after.

Amber eyes had dimmed upon seeing the Ravenclaw walking towards the trio of blondes with a Gryffindor on either side of him. The small fledgling of hope worming its way into his heart quickly shattered. There was no way he could become friends with the kind-hearted auburn-haired teen. Not with two Gryffindors as friends—best of friends from the looks of how they hung off of each other and a little more on the blonde’s part if he had to guess—because while members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff could be friendly and open with their childhood Slytherins friends and family, Gryffindor and Slytherins did not mix.

At all.

The two Houses always thought the worst of each other, blaming them for everything and since Jackson was lumped together with the other Slytherins, he received more than his fair share of accusations by the House. Another reason he tried so hard to be invisible inside the wall of Hogwarts and stay invisible he would continue to do. Jackson let the hope die and kept his distance. He could not, keep himself from watching over Hiccup though, and with each new thing he learned about the loyal, intelligent, brave Ravenclaw, the larger his crush grew.

“I could speak to him for you; if you so wish?” the Grey Lady offered.

“Milady, I appreciate you’re offer, but Hiccup Haddock is better off not knowing Jackson Overland.”

#Hogwarts #The Grey Lady #I'm Sorry #SilverlySilence's Fanfics #fanfic #Hiccup Haddock #Jack Frost #Jackson Overland #HiJack #Hidden at Hogwarts

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paraclete0407 · 3 years

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Going to give away all my story-ideas a la George Johnston’s ‘The Fire Sale’ since I feel as if Lucifer has been unleashed against me for the destruction of my flesh that I might learn not to blaspheme -

‘The Winners 2012′

With the prototype of my ‘Three Kings’ ultimate self-idea-hero, the Vice Principal or Ass’t Headmaster forced to play basketball, also something about a novel about violoncello and female self-satisfaction, inner life or pseudo-inner-life and my attack on Harvard people for their emetic unending self-celebration, which turned out to be a sort of Kim Jong Il three-day massacre-banquet + they really have a huge problem with alcohol, rape, at the same time they were right IMHO to be eating blueberries and protein-goop and so on sleeping 2hrs a night. Princeton students doing math in lucid dreams. I too would have but in retrospect I literally methinks I deduce that my bio-parents and Waqas my Paki roommate were trying to give me heart-failure in the cause of sociohistorical justice and/or ‘family tree’ hyper-narcissism. I was watching ‘Reply 1997′ and that song ‘Confession’ but I thought ‘I am gonna one day hang out with my friend again and drive through the NJ woods and it’ll all be alright b/c they are gonna have theirs and I am gonna have mine and in the end they will still be able to follow my lead and feel I was worthwhile.’ ‘Headmaster’s Wife’ something something Robert James Waller bidding for continued relevance after ‘Madison County’ but even in 2012 I just honestly wasn’t that fascinated with women or their hobbies at all. I like the Korean poem that says to look at your spouse’s brow, check homework, share food. Everyone wants a room of their own in which to produce bad art, get worse as a person, do that which others could do better. USFK bases are like huge campuses with super-nice beds and the soldiers all appear to need like 5,000 KCAL per diem or they’ll pass out. I had been in the habit of sleeping bolt-straight till I got here and liquified my form. ‘Winners’ got totally out of hand where the Ass’t Headmaster started cruising around looking for anyone and everyone to talk to and never got what he was up to - never ever ever realized that he could minimize his life and walk away, that he was manager-material at Cryan’s Irish Pub or sth, that the principal really might retire one day or just let him step up, if he didn’t keep trying to ‘discharge responsiblities’ or lay the ground for some super-daughter-figure to fulfill the mission that he had been waiting to incipit; and too, he was sort of a priest to begin with and avoided his vocation for years and decades for reasons unknown. My ex-friend from Harvard bragged about staying up for 36hrs doing something and there was President Obama saying ‘Heyyy Harvard Columbia but I also like flip-flops, chips, Occidental, jackass, fag.’ Obama had such an uneven series of statements. I used to blow up on the radio like 1000000% affirmative action; Thomas Sowell is 10000% right that the Ivies were disillusioning and damaging generation of Blacks who couldn’t read fast enough - therefore, better to go back to K-12 / HS and try to give younger people a general preparedness so that they wouldn’t leave it to mercenary oft CCP-seduced (Vogel) and it turns out oft pedophilic prof’s (Alexander Theroux is in the habit of calling Dershowitz ‘dirt’ though I actually agree with him about a lot and hope that he is still in favor of rule of law at this bizarre hour) to form or confer their identity and bequeath their sense of mission in life...

‘Thanksgiving Day’

Possibly my ‘most characteristic novel’ that predicted me never being understood or read with my own grain at all though it contained terrorist threats basically. Of all Korean pop-music with its numerous melismas in a way he most ‘abject’ was Sunny’s song from ‘Story of Wine,’ ‘Finally Now’ which made me realize actually I was gonna get cut up at all the dinner-parties, all my understandings would be met with anti-understandings, everything I simplified would be complicated, whether I throw rock paper or scissor all my ex-friends from Gov School are throwing CCP massive retaliation deepfake AI bury-the-scholar-alive fireballs. So they drove to the South Mountain Res where the homosexual pederasts are acting pedagogical and ‘adoptive’ and they are sitting there like, ‘Well soon it will be deer-hunting season + Chris Christie was saying how teachers like to make kids’ faces light up + give them indelible memories but under all his generosity of acknowledgment / crediting all the while CC was also saying / dogwhistling / inciting if not demanding or ordering, “Eat the poor,”which Obama was also arguably saying.’

I still like Sunny or did like 18 months ago - Tizzard and friends are mad at Cho Kuk; I tried to defend the governing class though this actually clashed with my own belief in people that came from dirt being best qualified as long as they don’t turn utterly prideful; and I’m a monarchist megalomaniac b/c I thought of Kissinger saying, ‘The illegal we do immediately the unconstitutional takes a while’ which I did not eve n intend to mean ‘Milwaukee antinomianism misrule carnivalesque total inversion of values’ and IZ*ONE were ‘rigged’ (destined), ‘Sunkyu’ is a good safe name that I know of and at the end she is like, ‘He is a loser; I am going back to the party anyway; he belongs in a Cistercian monastery or somewhere; it is not wrong to have monks and nuns and celibate married couples and/or those who wat a long time after marriage to have a child...’

‘Everything’ (Everything 2015 / Everything 2021)

Words never said, ‘I’m everything’ - therefore how can you not play my games and _ _ _. This was such an abject apprehension(?) in my own life; I had an ideal solution to the problem and in those days I actually had no acute anxiety nor did I feel this distance(d) awe from anybody but only a low-level thrumming or basso continuou worry or ‘meditation’ (Purpose-Driven Life). I guess now if someone isn’t asking a clear question it might be beside the point to imagine it’s worthwhile to answer and if somebody proffers you a certainty in any part of speech it is best it is best just to respond or non-respond without ay semblance of personality; deflection; without wanting to add anything or change anyone’s mind b/c in the end they who open their wings prematurely will get shot down all the more; and will also become their own worst enemies at times due to the conceits of ‘my nobility; fallen flower; I was Elect; I was anointed [sth. from ‘Sentimental Education’ abt women’s hearts]’

When I was 15 I started thinking a lot about reality and who is real to whom; my favorite piano-piece though in retrospect I might’ve ust listened to it then moved on with better things was Frederic Chopin’s ‘Berceuse’ op. 57 a.k.a. ‘Lullaby’ though originally it was simply ‘Variations.’ Simple left hand, very testing right hand. Michelangeli made a version in which nothing was thrown away or left to chance and a lot of pianists add a deep D-flat to the last chord which I disagreeith b/c the whole point of not using that is taht in the end it’s not a big deal. Best is Kempff 1946 because it’s utterly affectionate, fatherly, almost forgetful. I had once regarded this version or ‘rendering’ as being Kempff’s message to post-Nazi Germany saying, ‘Dream a new dream for a while.’ His left hand is spelling and his right hand is tracing. I used to make up words for this piece ‘I’m real God can’t you see / to break your shield’ but that was with a different count or tempo than the actual notation. Also, the version I heard first was Idil Biret or someone and they made the left hand cycle or reciprocate with a false completeness like an underlying clock when the essence of the ‘Berceuse’ is that the inner voices form a tolling or droning. I years later turned to the even more violent psychopathic Chopin that gave me hand-tremors and I think it is very bad for humans of which the apex was the last page or so of Nocturne 55-2 which is basically heart-explosion into embers. After going to KR I never wanted to touch a piano again except for anything related to Kempff and would walk around Lake Park, Wahl Street, considering Russia, simplicity, ‘c/Chimes.’ Didn’t then realize George Frost Kennan grew up around there and was considering Russia his whole life. I saw ‘Cat Street’ and was put in mind of a Singaporean market or square where they let songbirds talk to each other but it’s ancient history now. Maybe in future no one will care about cats, birds - I don’t really except I grew up in white trash degenerate Mass. where they burned frogs for fun (I was like 3) and put skull-flag all over their rooms. I oppose Mao sparrow-genocide, am fond of dandelions and the Ku Sang poem about dandelions from ‘Infant Splendor.’ However my generation and the people of that time were arguably over-equipped and in one way over-covered in another under-covered.

Voice in my head saying ‘They want Maoism man.’ But I really did believe in those days that others’ futures were like my own past and I perhaps overestiated my own chance of any future understanding, ‘trust-ness,’ and, either stable interiority or cognizable reliable plain-as-day face-to-face exteriority.

I also read Somerset Maugham’s critiques of ‘the Russian sense of humor’ which I approved of and my mom recently dreamed of the cat running out with his tail burnt.

There are perhaps only so many possible variations or stories and ‘today’s character’ is a real human being in the present moment and placement not just your favorite actress or whatever or whomever that would follow you to the ends of the Earth. I have almost no idea right now whether others want what I want or not; I had fantasized about writing speeches and always taking my family with me on the campaign-airplane which in retrospect is not perforce responsible and might’ve been mental Bidenism. I had only felt that it would or could be good for people in the future / future Man to be aware of one another’s burdens like let your son or daughter know when you’re working really hard instead of playing / representing Santa Dad when you’re really storing up UncleHammer and CrushFather vengeance, whether motivated by presumption and reactionary atavism or by the Will of God in the case of Mr. David James Johnston must be pulverized in to ‘coulisse bright dark tragic chiaroscuro’...In ‘Coming Home Again’ Changrae Lee’s mom was telling him how hard his psychiatric dad worked in graduate school and that is something I believe kids should know but there again what if immgrant young people really do grow up or ‘come up’ with this ‘Minima Moralia’ (Adorno cf. Vatican Censoriate) sense that ‘wrong life cannot be rightly lived,’ a horrific desolate phrase, that existence is a ‘battle life’ and that evth we do right today is a down-payment on wrong tomorrow.

In the ‘diaspora(?)’ of Evangelical Christianity following the passing away of a very famous and beautifully simply and consistent apologist Ravi Zacharias there was a cataclysmic revelation concerning his treatment of masseuses, first in terms of sexual harrassment and later unless it is all ‘fake news’ the discovery of a trove of actual records of abuse. I‘m Reddit ButBothSides relativism but it really almost feels as if there had been the mentality of a ‘treasury of merit’ but I don’t even want to say anything like that. Strange keepsakes! I feel as though ‘everybody deserves to know’ I am pretty certain I could be indicted for sexual harrassment in the Republic of Korea from a specific instant I recall very vividly + it might be good to do so in view of the current society’s determination to stop driving women toward suicide but IDK whether I ough to say that to anyone in Milwaukee b/c around here they’re racists and polyamorists and it’s more CCP paleo-peudo-Confucian mistress-culture where my dad is checking out my girlfriends and orgy and procurement are considered acts of unconditional love(?). Many years ago I looked at the Joongang Daily and say a ‘diptych’ of ‘T-ARA to release new song in November’ and ‘Uhm Taewoong arraigned for solicitation in [’my last stop’]’ + I adored TIAMO but it made me sad that the yougest member of this group was posing ith little girls all carring playing cards b/c it was lke a Chaim Potok novel that said mutatis mutandis ‘child-rearing is all gambling’ which goes against my sense of what is possible and even practical with a proper chain of care and ‘absolute ownership.’ And there I had been eager to join in the American Families Plan but then it really is still public schools where (Chesterton), ‘ The whole modern world has divided itself into Conservatives and Progressives. The business of Progressives is to go on making mistakes. The business of Conservatives is to prevent mistakes from being corrected.’ Professionalism, fair compensation, training, re-training, good data, involving parents. I am just sad b/c I realized I don’t really get how good or bad the SoE’s are anymore but the costs of Chromebooks and such are immense and I’m almost 100% certain the kids still have noisy homes, no good desks, + many of the staff are single moms nursing etc. + teacher-tenure and ‘middle class wages’ IMHO have been drawing mercenary self-righteous ideologue-automoton mental Boomers for decades and they still don’t get it but I’m super-sad b/c I just have no way I know of finding out!

I like talking to psychiatrists b/c they get stuff about autism as well as in some cases literal demons and matters such as handwriting, Arabic script going ‘backwards,’ but in the end they too appear committed to doing whatever the current overlord(s) of the world order are going to do. At the mental hospital they’re writing stuff like ‘schiz- ____’ nd saying ‘sign I’ll date’ and when I say ‘that’s an official document’ the union pozzers around here are like ‘it’s my document’ like Hell it is. You’re on strike against truth and morality and that’s no joke! You better give me heart-failure tonight or I will eventually bring a suit against your ‘whole host’ but that itself is beside the point because of Delta and drones and the fact that this is a revelating(?) era and a literal Judgment of God, which I had been hoping to weather and eventually execute my long-incubating intention but I truly am concerned what could present roll over and through this city.

This spectre or menace of a saturating, superceding, overriding ‘raison d’etat’ in the earthly world order soon to come and everything going to be unsealed anyway so that your private life is really just ‘a paper heart merit-badge that says “private life” on it’ and in future even a confirmation of something or someone is not really a confirmation. Puts in mind of the MLG song ‘Kiss Me’ about ego and commitment and the valences and intersections(?) of different potential promises or forecasts. My old friend Miles used to write about kissing a lot and I had reflections about kissing and such matters but IDK now if he’s a cultural Maoist advocating to defund the LAPD or he just ‘keeps his virtue to himself’ and feeds trash the ‘Arab Street’ about not protecting weak people from criminals.

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madisonhentosh · 3 years

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A Day In The Life Of An Endicott Student-Athlete

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a student athlete at Endicott College? I caught up with Catherine Miles, a member of the women’s ice hockey team, this past week to get a glimpse into her busy schedule.

Miles is a 20 year old Sophomore on the Beverly campus hailing from Northfield, Vermont, home also to Norwich University. Although the town of Northfield and its people are considered her family, Miles has found, and been welcomed into, a new family on the Endicott campus.

The Northfield Pharmacy is the only pharmacy in town. It is in the center of the downtown area which only consists of a handful of stores adding to the homey feel of Northfield.

With hopes of being a physicians assistant when she graduates, Miles is currently studying Exercise Science. A popular major among athletes, she finds herself in classes surrounded by other athletes from various sports teams.

Miles checks her class Canvas page prior to the start of class.

After waking up and preparing herself for the day, a typical Wednesday morning involves Miles walking from Stoneridge Hall all the way to the Arts Center, or better known as the VPAC. From 9:00-9:50a.m. she sits attentively in a class labeled philosophy and sport. As the clock strikes ten to the hour, the rose gold Mac laptop gets placed back in her backpack and she prepares to walk back to her dorm as her next class begins.

Being a college student during a pandemic means hybrid learning, and today, Miles’ 10 o'clock class, exercise physiology, happened to be occurring on Zoom. She did admit that, “keeping up with when, where, and what days you are actually in the classroom seems to be the hardest part of hybrid learning.”

Welcome to Zoom University! Miles completes her last two classes of the day in the comfort of her own room.

The academic day comes to an end with sport and exercise nutrition from 11:00-11:50a.m., also on Zoom. But, with the academic day coming to an end, the athletics part of the day is just beginning.

All teams on campus participate in strength and conditioning with Coach Dustin. The women’s hockey team mostly all lift on Monday and Wednesday mid morning to afternoon. Miles was placed in the 12:30pm lift group with a few other members of the team along with a couple members of the women’s lacrosse team.

The Endicott facilities are second to none. It is a rare occasion to see this gym empty of athletes and their hardworking, get-better, attitudes.

Due to the pandemic, regulations and precautions allow for 10 people in a lift group at a time, so team lifts are off the table. Team lifts were always a good way to build team chemistry and build a positive atmosphere as your teammates attempted max weights on exercises such as back squats, hang cleans, and bench presses. Miles stated that, “[a]s long as everyone does what they need to do in the weight room, time usually spent together at lift can be made up in other ways.”

As lift concludes, Miles now finally has the time to eat lunch. When asked about Callahan or the new market in the Wax, she responded with a smile, “I think the new options in the Wax could be one of the better things to happen on campus.”

The Callahan Dining Hall is usually the most popular choice for meals on campus. Other options include Einstein’s, the Lodge, and the new market located within the Wax Academic Center.

With the academics and lift now complete, Miles now has some two hours of down time as practice starts at 3:40p.m.

We happened to catch Miles on a good day, well good day to be a reporter, as the women’s ice hockey team happened to be having their team media day. As the team picked time slots to go and take pictures, Miles picked the 2:00 slot, and we can understand why with her busy day leading up to this point.

Photographer David Le, who runs all of the media days for the athletic teams, was at the Raymond J. Bourque Ice Arena on campus from 11:00-3:00p.m. snapping shots of the 35 members of the team. Miles got herself dolled up and headed over to the rink for both her headshot and on ice posed photos. She completes her temperature check and CoVerified check at the door and gets cleared to enter.

Miles awaits practice as media day concludes. The pre-game practice fuel of choice is a handful of Baked Lays chips with an Honest iced tea.

Now that the fun and games of media day had wrapped up, it was time for business as the team is preparing for their two upcoming games against Nichols College. “Practice is valued just as much as games this year because in reality, there is no guarantee our games will go as planned this weekend”, Miles added. COVID has made athletes everywhere value their sport even more than usual because one positive test can impact the whole, shortened season.

Quarantine took away the opportunity to step on the ice everyday. It took away the opportunity for fans to hear the ringing of the post, blades cutting into the ice, and the cheers of temmarts when a goal was scored. Miles added, “... having hockey taken away made me realize how big of a blessing hockey has been for me in my life. Each time I step on the ice now it’s a breath of fresh air, an escape from the outside chaos of the world.”

Ever since a young age playing for the Northfield Stars, Miles fell in love with the game of hockey unaware of how big of a role it would play in her later years.

Miles, a center, is a tenacious, hard-working player that might go unnoticed. Today’s practice at the Raymond J. Bourque Arena was defensive and neutral zone focused featuring a lot of regrouping and down low coverage. Being put in the center position of recent, Miles can be seen on the ice asking questions not only to the coach, but to upperclassmen who excel in the same position. Having played defense before and having experience, Miles understands the importance of staying low and supporting the puck on the breakout, which she is applauded for on many occasions by Coach McPhee.

As a freshman, Miles only logged minutes in 2 out of the 26 games played. But now, as a sophomore, she has 3 points in the past 3 games with a +4 rating, scoring her first goal in the Nichols series.

Miles (#28) looks to angle a Suffolk defender through transition.

“Every year is a tryout and an opportunity to prove yourself, and to others, that you deserve a spot on the lineup”, she explained. With 35 members on the team, practice is high-tempo and competitive as Coach McPhee looks to reward the hardest workers. Miles’ offseason efforts in the gym and on the ice, training with ELEV 802 in Vermont has seemed to pay off this year. There is always something to work on and when asked what that was, she quickly responded, “faceoffs, no doubt”, with a laugh.

5:10p.m.: Practice is wrapped up and Miles heads for the shower.

Following a shower, Miles, along with her teammates, head to the Callahan Dining Hall. On the menu tonight was a grilled chicken taco bowl, roasted vegetables, and of course, the Miles classic, a blue Powerade. “There’s just something about a blue Powerade from the Callahan. It’s almost like a Sprite from McDonald’s”, she discussed.

Surrounded by teammates, Miles finishes her meal at the Callahan before getting ready to head to work.

Although you may be expecting a typical end of the night with homework and Netflix in bed, our star of the show had other plans.

From 6:30-10:00p.m. Miles can be found working at the Post Center checking people into the gym, cleaning gym equipment, and monitoring open rec. Here she can work on homework, which she usually gets most of it done, watch Netflix, and today she even got the chance to watch her boyfriend play in his season opener soccer game for Elmira College.

7:05p.m.: Miles watches the Elmira men’s soccer game as she awaits the next gym cleaning.

At this point in the day, rest is much needed. Miles can go to bed knowing that she successfully made it through another day as a student-athlete on the Endicott campus.

As the clock strikes 11:00p.m., Miles finally hits the sheets and prepares to do the same thing the following day.

“I wouldn't want it any other way”, Miles concluded.

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star-anise · 5 years

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i was hoping my last ask would get me a free rant without having to make a dreaded choice uhhhhhhh do maybe washcloths or fake smile?

Hahaha no you have to specify what white person thing you want a rant about, or else I’m paralyzed by too many choices. And nb. by “white” I generally mean white Anglo-Saxon Protestant; WASPs have traditionally been held up as the cultural standard everyone else n North America or other British colonies should follow, and the “whiteness” of different European ethnicities in those colonies is generally judged by how assimilated they are to the WASP ideal. So my observations will not apply very well to, for example, other European ethnicities, or people from areas colonized by those other European groups.

WASHCLOTHS. Related to another trap, Guest Towels Guests Must Never Use. Which are usually distinguished by their elaborateness and a thin layer of dust. As a certified White Person (Anglo Canadian) I can say: This is a real actual literal thing my family does. If I stay at an aunt’s house, I don’t use her guest towels; I walk past the guest towels on the towel rack and ask my hostess, “What towel do you want me to use?” and she fetches me a new, less nice, towel out of the linen closet.

The actual washcloth meant to be used is hung somewhere separate. When I was about 13, I rebelled against sharing a washcloth with my brothers, bought my own washcloth from a department store, embroidered my name on it, and zealously defended it against all comers. These days, my older brother has four children. When we go to his house to eat dinner, his children all wash their hands before they eat… and then wipe them dry on a single towel hung in the downstairs bathroom, which his guests also use. So we all wash our hands and then share germs. I… think? There might be a bar on the opposite wall with guest towels hanging on it? But my eyes have been trained to skate right over guest towels. They’re decor, not things we actually use.

Why White People Do This:

1. Washing and cleanliness… have not traditionally held a central place in European life the way, say, wudu does in Islam. Although priests ritually wash their hands before performing the consecration of Mass, nobody else in the congregation has to. This is partly because in Christian Scripture, Jesus says that if something is ritually pure but spiritually suspect, it should be treated as impure, which Christians kind of took to mean “ritual purity and cleanliness rituals are things non-Christians do.”

So in the 19th century, a German doctor discovered that you could reduce the rate of infection dramatically when doctors washed their hands and instruments between dissecting dead bodies and attending in childbirth. Doctors were OFFENDED and APPALLED by this–partly because the guy pointing it out was an asshole, yes, but partly because there was a feeling that “a gentleman’s hands are always clean”, so it was offensive to say their hands were dirty because it impugned their class and education.

Cleanliness is hugely related to class and status–I could go on a LOT more here about how in the 19th century, British and American attempts to “educate” and “civilize” poor white people and people of colour included imposing standards of hygiene on them that felt cruel and punitive–scrubbing skin raw, using caustic soap, delousing with kerosene–partly because white people didn’t have a very advanced idea of what chemicals made good cosmetics, and there wasn’t much awareness of the need for oils or moisturizers. (For a long time very few sources of natural oil, like canola, olives, or sunflowers, or even petroleum products, were available in Britain, so until somewhat recently they only really had pine tar and animal fat, which they used for everything from making soap to lighting lamps to greasing cart axels.) And the 19th century cleanliness movement did not have a good opinion of traditional bathing methods like the sauna, banya, or steam room, where sweat was scraped off the skin. So people who HAD hygiene rituals that worked for them, when they emigrated to western Europe or North America, got shamed and discouraged from using them. It was just expected that part of “civilizing” a child who hadn’t been “well brought up” was forcefully ducking them in a bath and scrubbing them while they screamed and fought you.

So for white people from everything but the highest classes, if you go a few generations back, there’s this feeling that cleanliness is something unnatural and unpleasant, something imposed by a punitive authoritarian force, and not something intrinsically desirable. Old men used to talk about “taking a bath once a year, whether I need it or not,” and fear of losing their “protective coating of dirt.” Which makes sense when you realize how awful old cosmetics used to feel.

I mean, as I type this, I’m applying Vaseline to the hangnails on my fingers, because when I use soap in the bath or do the dishes or wash my hands after going to the bathroom, the soap strips oil from my skin and dries it out, leading it to crack and bleed. This is a really common problem but the current solution seems to be “women carry tiny bottles of moisturizer everywhere in their purses, and men… suffer if they want to seem manly, and then post memes to facebook about how rough and terrible their hands look to emphasize their heterosexual masculinity.”

This also relates to why white people say racist things about people of colour being “dirty” when they use natural methods of keeping their hair or skin clean. The white conception of cleanliness is honestly really fucked up.

2. Cloth holds an especially weird place in white society. I mean, lots of cultures everywhere like their cloth to look nice! But in Europe and American colonies in the 1600s there was an extra special movement to restrict women economically and bar them from business and public life–so while a rich woman could run a business outside the home and buy and sell in 1400, that freedom was disappearing in 1600. Only women of the ~lower classes~ did real actual work. And the religious sentiment at the time really emphasized Purity, Hard Work, Productiveness, and No Fun. So women were supposed to stay inside all the time and not participate in industry! But they were always supposed to be busy. The saying was literally “Idle hands are the devil’s tools”.

That turned embroidery from an aesthetic, decorative art into a moral act. You didn’t embroider to make something pretty; you embroidered for the good of your soul. Fancy embroidered pieces displayed in a home were meant to demonstrate a) that the house was rich enough to have idle women, and b) the moral purity and obedience to gender norms of the women of the house. (This also extends to things like quilts, lace doilies, hooked rugs, etc.)

So towels used to be made of linen, a plain flat cloth, and then embroidered and otherwise embellished. My mom, in the 1960s, learned how to do embroidery where you painstakingly pull a few threads out of a piece of linen, and then embellish the place where the threads have been taken out.

Linen, incidentally, is a strange and amazing fabric. When new, freshly starched and ironed, it is flat and crisp. But pressure and moisture can change it really easily. When I sew with linen, I just have to lick my fingers and fold it over, and it stays like that–something most fabrics don’t do. So if you actually use a linen towel to dry your hands, you will crumple it in a way that is very hard to reverse.

Therefore: Fancy linens were displayed prominently in the home as a status symbol, but a guest who wanted to stay on his hostess’s good side did not use them. There are a lot of ettiquettes around using linens when you absolutely have to, like just gently wiping your fingers on a towel, that diminished the damage the fabric would take.

So, I mean, actually rich people used their good towels, because if they ruin them, they can just get new ones. Fancy linens were intended for high-class guests who knew how to keep from damaging them. So using someone’s guest towels sent the message, “I am so high-status that I’m WORTH potentially ruining something that took a ton of work to make and maintain.” Or, if you obviously weren’t that high status, “I don’t know about the work that goes into making nice things, or don’t value the work you did and don’t care how much effort you’ll have to go to because I wanted to wipe my face.”

But that was in the days of linen. Guest towels are going out of fashion, partly because modern terrycloth towels are almost impossible to crease or ruin, so it doesn’t really matter if guests use them. But even with terrycloth towels, homeowners sometimes like to create really elaborate towel displays. I don’t know how those people feel when guests use them, but as a white girl I feel really uncomfortable taking a towel display in somebody else’s house apart, and try to wipe my hands while causing the least disturbance possible.

Oh, I guess I should mention that invisible tests no one will ever mention if you fail are absolutely a white person thing. Like, if you watch costumed period drama movies, there’s often a scene where someone is really unbearable and rude, and everyone is super polite and awkward and just sits there and says nothing. That’s not consciously an exclusive practice; from the perspective of white people it’s just an ingrained reflex, “Freeze and smile when something awkward happens and then later cut them out of your life.”

That reflex comes because the Industrial Revolution and colonization (1600s-1800s) led to a lot of class mobility. Ordinary men could get involved in business and become wealthier than the hereditary landowners! Which the hereditary landowners felt super threatened by, so they went out of their way to cultivate manners and standards that were very unlike those used by the common people. Upperclass accents became more marked and exaggerated; dictionaries decided to make English spelling and grammar especially hard to learn; manners got super weird and unintuitive. They wanted to make it as hard as possible for common people to fit into high society.

Therefore, to enable that system, the rule became: Never tell someone when they’re fucking up. If they know what they’re doing wrong, they’ll FIX it, and then they’ll fit in better! And that would lead to the absolute downfall of Western civilization! Which would of course be a bad thing! And that got codified as The Right And Desirable Way To Do Things. A low-class person might say “Hey, you just insulted me, I’m upset,” but someone with aspirations of rising higher in life learned to freeze and say nothing. That was how you defined “polite”.

So like I said, if I, as a white person, point out to other liberal white people that the freeze-and-smile-awkwardly response is really exclusionary to people from different backgrounds, they go, “Oh my gosh, you’re right!” and we can talk about changing it. It’s why white people invented assertiveness training. It’s a thing white people have to unpack and decolonize. But it’s not commonly a conscious attempt to exclude someone by not letting them know they’re breaking the rules.

ANYWAY. Towels.

So IF someone has guest towels taking up their towel rack in their bathroom, there’s very little room left for the actual towels. (Unless they’re like my aunt, whose bathroom literally has a second towel rack to accommodate her guest towel arrangement) Therefore: The entire fucking family sharing a single washcloth because that’s all they have room for, and it doesn’t feel that important not to share.

WHITE CULTURE IS WEIRD AS HELL.

And if you come to my house? You’re allowed to use my guest towels. It’s what they’re there for.

#staranise original #white culture #lis explains white people shit #AND I DIDN'T EVEN NAMECHECK CALVINISM ONCE #chucktaylorupset

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thecorteztwins · 4 years

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These are all scenes from my longass ALT-MARAUDERS FIC PITCH and you don’t need to read the whole pitch because it’s huge and a fic in itself, but basically what’s going on is Xavier ordered Miss Sinister, Madelyne Pryor, Pyro, Haven, and the Shaws to work together as a crack team accomplishing bringing “home” mutants like the Marauders but probably also other stuff too. I don’t really care what their mission is though because it’s about their relationships. Also it looks like ALICE is now the adopted team baby, at least for Madelyne and Haven (maybe Pyro too, I like to think he looks out for her) sorry I don’t make the rules OH WAIT I DO AND I SAY SHE’S TEAM BABY honestly she really fits the theme/the team, given her history? So I’m down for it. Tagging @sammysdewysensitiveeyes since you showed interest in it and since it’s got YA BOY PYRO and @hexiva since you asked about it too, though no obligation to read it, or to read all of ‘em! I feel like you might like “Scientists” though, Hex. CONTENTS A Box Full of Darkness - Sebastian/Haven Canvas - Madelyne/Alice Scientists - Claudine/Haven Like An Old Married Couple - Group Parties, Pleas, and Promises - Pyro/Shinobi Sea & Sky - Madelyne/Haven Awkward - Pyro/Sebastian Stories - Madelyne/Pyro Out of the Frying Pan - Sebastian/Shinobi Nightmare Dressed Like A Daydream - Pyro

*** A BOX FULL OF DARKNESS "Do you care at all for poetry, Mr. Shaw?” The ship had a small sitting room that also served as a library, shelves lining three of its walls. The wood, the carpet, the small chair, the atmosphere, all made one forget that one was at sea, and not in fact in the nook of some old college’s study. One had to wonder who had chosen the books. ”No, Ms. Dastoor, I can’t say it has ever appealed to me. Most of the arts do not, particularly the ones that are not visual in nature. I do not see the point of endless stanzas and pentameters to say in metaphor and allegory what could be said much more clearly and succinct in a single sentence of plain simple prose.” ”Then I hope you shall forgive me for sharing a bit---it reminded me of you, you see.” There was one in her hand. ”Ah, what was it? Something from the Decadent movement? Or perhaps some pretencious Bohemian lampooning the upper class from which he came himself? Dare I hope for Ozymandias, perhaps, and will it be Smith’s or Shelley’s?” He was smirking slightly. Perhaps he thought he was being funny. Or it might just be his face. ”You seem to know much about the subject despite a disinterest in it. I rather admire that you took the time to learn,” and she did sound genuinely approving, encouraging, “But, no---Mary Oliver, someone much more recent, and much more recently deceased. I am paraphrasing her here so that my meaning, my reason for seeing you in this, is not confused: Someone once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” He smiled wryly, “Is that how you see me, Ms. Dastoor, a box full of darkness?” “No,” she said, her gaze rising back up from the open pages to meet his, her large dark eyes unreadable as they drank him in, boxes of darkness in themselves, “And I do not agree that evil and suffering---if we must use ‘darkness’ to mean those things, which I also do not agree with, but is what I believe Ms. Oliver may have meant--is ever a gift, no matter what we may get out of it through our own power to come back from it...but I believe you see it this way, do you not?” There was no accusation in her tone, no disapproval. There seldom was. She was only asking, only observing. At least, Sebastian thought, that was what she wanted to seem like. He always suspected her motives were more, and that she was simply trying to disguise the fact she was trying to needle him, rather than making it pointedly obvious as, say, Emma, might. Coward---but then, he knew that of her. “Perhaps in less poetic terms, yes. I’m a practical man, Ms. Dastoor. I used to work in a steel mill. I saw how heat and pressure forged the worthless in the valuable, how the smelting process pulled the precious iron from the rest of the ore and shaped it through force into something useful. The same can be said of people---and I do indeed say it. You have heard me. Is that the darkness of which you speak?” ”The steel you speak of and the shapes it was forced into were valuable and useful...by the definitions of what the humans shaping it needed and wanted. But ore and iron and metal and stone, all these have no intrinsic value, or lack there of. There is no objective difference in the value between steel and granite, glass or diamond, gold or plastic. Thus, too, I believe that when it comes to people, you are deciding what is valuable according only to your standards. But is there objective worth to your perception of strength over your perception of weakness, beyond what is merely your perception?” And yet again, her voice was calm, not accusing, merely observing and asking. Sebastian returned, just as calm, if slightly smug, “Is there objective value in your perception of kindness and morality, Ms. Dastoor, beyond that it is merely your perception?” “I believe it has practical applications, but I have also never claimed an objective standpoint in our discussions, have I? Whereas you have, if I am recalling corrective,” Again, there was nothing aggressive in her tone. She was polite as could be. “I have and I do, but if I am to have it be put to a test of authenticity, I must require you to subject your own beliefs to the same scrutiny. It is not fair for the burden of proof to only fall on my shoulders.” Still also calm, still slightly smirking in his turning around on her. “That is quite true. I apologize,” she relented, ”But, to my original point---while I may disagree with Ms. Oliver’s sentiment, is it not one that appeals to you, one that you share?” Sebastian, too, relented with his smirk becoming a smile, “Yes.” The smile widened, knowing and amused,

“And despite your claim of not sharing the poem’s sentiments, I believe you see me as your box of darkness---and you are excavating me in search of some gift.” He put one hand in his suit pocket and began to depart, though he turned once, the smirk returned, and said, “Do let me know if you find it.” *** CANVAS “It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Alice, interrupting Madelyne’s angry rant, “I’m not real.” Madelyne Pryor had just explosively dragged the girl away from Claudine, insisting that the child shouldn’t have to see that...that...MONSTER...at any point on the voyage home. And if Haven hadn’t stopped her, she’d have ensured that Alice wouldn’t have a chance to, by KILLING the other woman, whom Madelyne now realized was aptly named “Miss Sinister” for fare more than her looks. She might still do it... But first--- “Don’t give me that!” Madelyne suddenly rounded on the girl she had just been comforting, been supporting, been swearing she’d never have to see her abuser---that was what it was to breed and clone someone just for the sake of their violation, abuse, beyond abuse!---again. But Alice had hit a nerve. And for the same reason Madelyne Pryor had so much empathy for her, she now had ire too. Madelyne’s snapping did, at least, stop Alice from crying. She’d been about to start, but the shock of Madelyne’s sudden change halted her in mid-tear. “You’re made of real flesh and blood, right?” Madelyne demanded rhetorically, “And you have thoughts and feelings right? Well you're real! The flesh being shared doesn't make it less real, just not unique. So you’re no less real than someone’s identical twin. And even they’re not really copies, because they have different personalities. So the only way you could be a copy---which you’re not---is if you had the first Alice’s same genes AND same thoughts and personality and everything! And you don’t, right” “Um,” Alice sniffled, a little afraid to correct the woman, who was so fierce whether she was defending Alice or berating her (or at least, it seemed like that was what she was doing...Alice wasn’t sure), “Actually...actually...I get all the memories of the previous Alices, so...so....I am a copy, actually...” “Oh,” Madelyne felt her argument just get ripped out from under like a trick rug someone had pulled. Her empathy came flooding back from the girl...and shame for shouting at her. Especially since she knew who she had REALLY been shouting at. “Well...” Shit, what did she do now? She’d just as good as told the girl she WAS a copy! How did she salvage this now? Come on Maddie, she told herself, What did you need somebody to say to you when you found out? “Listen, Alice,” she put her hands on the girl’s shoulders, firmly but gently. Her tone matched. “Yeah, you’re a copy. So am I. But we’re still real people, for all the reasons I said. No one gets to treat use like Claudine---or Colcord---treated you. No one should, anyway. It DOES matter. Being a clone, a copy, it doesn’t make you less alive. And so what if you’re a copy? You’re still YOU. You become more and more your own person with every moment you’re alive. Think of it like...like...” A Xerox. It was what she had compared herself to when she’d told Jean what she was. A Xerox that lost a lot in translation. What memories she’d had were either lies manufactured by Sinister...or worse, remnants from Jean that had bled into her mind when the Phoenix brought her to life. “Think of it like a Xerox machine, okay?” she said, more gentle than ever now, voice soft, and little tears of her own welling up, “When it first comes off the copy machine, yeah, it’s a duplicate...but then you can draw on it. You can write on it. You can crumple it up or throw it in the bin, or you can paint over it until it’s something new entirely on the paper. It’s up to you. It won’t stay a duplicate for long though. Either you can change it...or someone else will. But it’ll happen either way. And you know what?” Madelyne put a hand on Alice’s face, looking into her eyes, “I bet you can paint a real masterpiece.” *** SCIENTISTS “Are you alright, Claudine?” Madelyne had whisked Alice off. Haven had been going to do that originally, but since Madelyne had stepped in, Haven would leave it to her. She didn’t need to be the hero every time, and Madelyne...Madelyne had much in common with Alice. She might be better for Alice. And Alice might be good for her. But Haven’s next concern after Alice and Madelyne was Claudine. Claudine was the victimizer, yes. She had done awful things to Alice, to the Alices before her, to the other children. She had also been a victim too, and no one else here had pity for her now that they knew what she’d been besides that. No one else but Haven. “No moral outrage, Radha?” Claudine smirked slightly. She’d retreated to her lab, and it was hard to tell if she’d been expecting Haven to follow or not. “Of course,” said Haven calmly, “It horrifies and revolts me that those girls were bred only to be used as their hosts, their entire personalities, their souls, displaced for yours. Horrifies and disgusts me. Just as it horrifies and disgusts me, on just as deep a level, that the same was going to happen you if you did not escape in such a way.” “So because I was in danger of something terrible happening, you can excuse what I did?” Claudine sounded curious, mocking somehow, tapping one red-pink nail against a porcelain cheek. “Not excuses,” said Haven still calmly, “But I understand. And I still care if you were hurt just now.” “It’s more than that, isn’t it though?” said Claudine, still sounding amused, “You want to see if I’m wracked with guilt or not, if I hate myself. You want to see if I’m remorseful or tortured like you, like you want me to be maybe. Like you hope I am because it proves I must have some good in me, and you can comfort me and feel good about that. And if I’m not remorseful at all, you want to see why that is, if it’s because of Sinister or if it’s just me. And then if it’s just me...you want to figure me out too. Like you do with dear Sebastian.” Haven blinked, her sole sign of surprise, “That’s quite a lot of conjecture, Claudine. But...you are not incorrect, no. We do like to divide things neatly into victims who could do nothing, who had no power, and the victimizers who are wholly monsters...but that’s not wholly true, is it? Sometimes, the victims can do something. And sometimes, the only thing they can do is a monstrous thing. They’re caught in a Catch 22---either they don’t do the one thing they can, and thus will feel they are to blame for what happened. Or they do it, and they must live with the guilt. I can’t tell you if you were right or wrong Claudine, because---” “---sometimes there is no right or wrong, because the entire situation was wrong, and that’s not your fault.” Claudine finished, “I’ve heard how you talk with the kiddies, Haven. Like those little ones we pulled out of the fight pit. Or the one who pushed his friend forward at the flesh market so he’d get taken instead. You’re just oh so understanding, aren’t you? Seeing things from all sides.” “I would hope so. I certainly try to be. But, I admit, I’m not seeing something right now...why do you say that with what sounds, to me, as a mocking tone? Am I misinterpreting you, Claudine?” “A bit. I’m not mocking you, really I’m not---but I am teasing a little. It’s just so funny, you know?” Claudine’s index finger was next to her smiling mouth, “How you’re always thinking, always watching, and how I’m the only one who notices. What do you think the others would think, if they knew?” “I’m afraid I’m still not understanding you, Claudine. Would you mind helping me by putting it a bit plainer?” “Ever so polite. Come on now, Haven---as well as you know people, you must know they don’t like being put under a microscope. Everyone likes the IDEA of someone who “gets” them, who knows just what they’re feeling and what they need without them ever needing to open up all their vulnerable little insides like clams willfully tearing themselves out of their shells...but when it actually comes along, they don’t like it. Especially if it doesn’t feel earned, or specific to them. Because when they say they want that, they’re thinking of a partner, a lover, one single person who knows them that well because they’ve been with them that long, and love them, just them, that much. But telepaths like me, we get all that without having to see them as special at all. We don’t have to love them or spend time with them to KNOW them. We don’t have to open ourselves up in exchange. That’s why people don’t like us. And that’s---” She stepped close to Haven and bobbed her fingertip just above the other woman’s nose, “---why they wouldn’t like you. Oh yeah, you’re great when you’re sensitive and empathetic and all that, when you just know when someone needs a cup of tea or a shoulder to cry on...but it’s only to a point. Underneath all that soft silk and sweet words, you’re a lot like me---a scientist. We see the data. We gather it. We examine it. We analyze, we classify, we theorize. People call Xavier creepy these days but I think he’s just finally being honest.” She picked up Haven’s right hand, and raised it up, Haven allowing her. “So,” Claudine met her eyes, still smiling, “When are you going to be honest too?” Haven smiled back, with kind sincerity as always, “May I be honest now, Claudine?” “Of course.” Haven put her other hand on top of Claudine’s, sandwiching the unnaturally pale paw between her two soft brown ones, “Everything you say is accurate. But it’s also a deflection. You could have told me that you just did not wish to talk about Alice, you know. I would not have pried or pushed you. You know I never do.” Claudine laughed, and it was the laugh of someone who had just been proven completely correct. *** LIKE AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE “We’re going to need you to go undercover for this mission,” Xavier explained to the team, “It’s been decided that Sebastian and Haven will do best in this environment. Naturally, you will be outfitted with image inducers, and provided with all the false documentation required.” He slid a folder across the table to them, explaining, “You will be posing as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. King.” “King. I’m sure you thought that was very clever, Charles,” said Sebastian, picking the folder up and perusing it, “And I see our first names are...Abraham and Lakshmi. Is that a reference to something?” “Lakshmi is the goddess of which Radha is an aspect,” Xavier explained, “And Abraham...well, that just sounds slightly like Hiram, your middle name, or so I thought. I thought it might help the pair of you remember your identities, without being obvious to others.” “Well, thank you Charles. It’s good to know you put a man on the Quiet Council of whom your opinion is so low you think I can’t remember two names for a single night,” said Shaw, getting up and taking the folder with him, without excusing himself. The rest of the team follow suite, save Haven, who of course said the politest of goodbyes and thanked him for arranging the false identities. clever, and our first names “We’re leaving in the next five hours, so there’s hardly any time to prepare,” Sebastian said, plainly speaking to Haven even though he was looking ahead, not at her, “Ms. Dastoor, come with me so that we may discuss the details of our ruse.” Pyro watched the pair like a hawk as they went in a different direction from the rest of the crew. “Jealous, Pyro?” Claudine quipped, “I confess, I didn’t think Sebastian was your type...then again, he does have a certain resemblance to Dom I suppose...” Pyro was in no mood to play, however. “If he touches her I’m a-toast him from the inside out, see if his stinking GUTS are fireproof!” he proclaimed, a small jet of flame emanating from his wrist-shooter for emphasis. “Husband and wife...what’s Xavier thinking?! And she’ll be all alone with him and have to keep up the act if he does anything!” “Don’t sweat it,” Shinobi assured, “ I know my dad. She’s like ten years too old for him to be interested.” Pyro looked confused, “Isn’t she YOUNGER than him?” “Yeah,” said Shinobi. A look of disgust came over Pyro’s face. “Don’t look shocked,” Madelyne told him, “Don’t forget, he dated someone under ten once.” And that garnered...about the expressions you’d expect. Even from Claudine. “Me, you idiots! I was making a joke!” Madelyne clarified, seeing their shock and horror on their faces, “I’m technically like twelve years old max! God, you people...”

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Haven’s conversation in the former’s ship office was not far off. “With all that covered...” Sebastian finished as the last of their act was hashed out, “I have to bring us to what will likely be the most difficult part of this for you. Ms. Dastoor, I am not sure what the norms are for married couples in public in your country, but at some point in the evening...I will most likely put my arm around your shoulders.” “I understand,” said Haven, with the solemn gravity required for such a thing. “There will hopefully be no need for anything else, but if dancing occurs, there is a chance that a hand on your waist will be required as well. Can you allow and “act natural” this without displaying any discomfort?” "This will be tolerable if need be, Mr. Shaw, though not preferable. Will your hand be on mine, outside of potential dancing?” Sebastian cracked a smile, amused, “Husbands and wives don’t hold hands, Ms. Dastoor. I’m shocked you’ve never noticed that. It’s far too intimate for a married couple.” “I’m afraid you lost me, Mr. Shaw. Too intimate for a married couple? Is this a Western peculiarity?” “Men don’t slap their wives bottoms, Ms. Dastoor, “Sebastian explained, “They slap the bottoms of waitresses and flight attendants when their wives aren’t there. Does that help illustrate it better? “Yes, I think I see, Mr. Shaw.” “We probably haven’t had sex in the last 25, 35 years. At least not with each other.” “Thank you, Mr. Shaw.” “ Our marriage bed is as dry as the Sah—” “Thank you, Mr Shaw.” It was the first time that Sebastian had ever heard Haven cut him, or anyone, off. He would have taken offense from someone else, but he actually liked this, and smiled. He found it amusing he’d managed to get under her skin enough to prompt such a, for her, dramatic reaction. He’d have to make a note of this. *** PARTIES, PLEAS, AND PROMISES These Krakoa portals were truly a godsend. For many mutants, that was because the X-Men and other agents of Krakoa could now come to them easily and bring them to a safe place. For others it was because it enabled them to keep contact with their family and friends while also not having to leave what they felt was at last a place they could belong. But for Pyro and Shinobi...it meant bar-hopping from Manhattan to Moscow to Mexico! to Bulgaria to Bangkok to Taiwan to Timbuktu! In Manhattan, a cute guy with a nose piercing bought them beers and guided them through the city with his friends, boyfriends, and cousins til 5 AM when the guy’s cousin decided she really wanted spahgetti, so they all went to her house in the Harlem projects where she made them some and then they watched 90s hip hop music videos together. They stayed til 10 AM, then hopped a portal to Mexico, and went to a resort strip, where they got piss drunk again by doing shots with a guy covered in tattoos who might have also been involved with the cartels---Shinobi said he knew him from his dad’s black market business---and then Pyro got in a fight with the bouncer while Shinobi snorted molly in the bathroom stall. Got drunk again in Shanghai, fell off the bouncy dance floor, made friends with some Ukrainian tourists and went back to their hotel, walked in on an orgy, and when in Rome... Next thing they knew, they were in downtown Tokyko, drunk again, running on foot from the Japanese police, each of them holding a marijuana plant in a pot, laughing uncontrollably. Shinobi grabbed Pyro’s hand and they phased through a wall, only to fall down through thin air into an underground parking garage. Their potted pot plants shattered as they hit the concrete, and this just made them laugh more despite their own bruised tailbones as they lay there between a couple of cars. Eventually, when the giggles ran out, Shinobi slurred, “Man, I’m so glad...so glad our last night is awesome.” “Wha?” Pyro said, not sure he’d gotten that right. He was pretty boozy right now, after all, “What’d you mean, last night?

"Well, I, uh,” Shin said, obviously uncomfortable, “I decided...if I can’t hang out w’you anymore...gonna make the last time a good time.”

”Wh--” Pyro started, then his expression soured, “It’s yer dad, isn’t it?”

No answer.

”I knew it! He told you...tol’ you you couldn’t...be mates with me no more...that it?”

Shinobi mumbled.

”Listen Shin...forget him! You a grow...grown man! Y’don’t have to do what that old douchebag says! He’s just a...just a cunt, a right cunt, y’know? Fucking cunt...” Pyro wobbled back and forth, so vehement was he in his support.

”Well, we’re workin together now...” Shinobi said weakly.

”Yer workin WITH him though not for him! And why’re you even doing that? C’mon, he he wasn’t any good to you why should you do anything for him?”

Shinobi looked shocked, then angry, demanding, “How d’you know that?!” "Pfft, I’m not as thick as your old man thinks, you know! I can pick up a hint or two! Especially when it’s you telling me.” Shinobi looked shocked again, and Pyro, still swaying in place, clapped him on the back and explained, “Ah, I don’t expect you to remember but you’ve said a few things when you were as full as the back of a plumber's ute.Don’t worry, weren’t nothing too personal, no specifics, so don’t look so scared alright?” Pyro knew how it was to want to keep some things private, things that hurt, and even drunk he was trying to be sensitive to that, sensitive as someone like him could be. He continued, “And anyway, would have still guessed. He’s such a right bastard to everyone, can’t imagine him being some warm old papa bear behind closed doors. “He’s---” Shinobi started, about to tell Pyro about just how horrible his father was, and then remembered how ‘sympathetic’ Warren had been, and instead went back on the defensive, “Well it’s none of your business!” Pyro shrugged, not deterred, “Sure it’s not but I’m a journalist, so what do I care? It’s been my job to go where I’m not wanted. And you can do what you want, Shinobi me mate, but you can’t expect ol’ St. John to just keep his trap shut on anything, you know that. Calls it likes I see it, me. Thought you liked that.” There was a sobering silence between the pair for a moment, sitting on their butts in the silent garage while the noise of the Tokyo nightlife sang beyond the concrete walls of what they were missing. “Don’t...don’t tell him I said anything,” Shinobi said at last. Pyro promised him he would not. For he heard the plea in his new pal’s voice. *** SEA AND SKY (Context: Happens just after THIS) “Haven?” Madelyne arrived to the rescue, praying she wasn’t too late. She’d thought she was when she saw the wreckage, but she also saw Haven within it. And she wasn’t lying there like a body, she was sitting up, kneeling over...something. “Haven, thank god! Are you injured? Stay right there, I’ll come over and help---oh dear lord.” As Madelyne had begun to move forward, she’d seen what Haven was kneeling over, its half-charred head in her lap. “Is he---” “Yes,” said Haven, calmly, sadly, distantly. Madelyne didn’t ask how; it was obvious, the explosion killed him. She’d thought his powers would protect him from that kind of thing; it must have been specialized to combat that. Freaking Pierce. She didn’t bother to question how Haven was alive, but if she had, she’d assume maybe it was something also designed only to kill humans and Haven had been in a safe place during the explosion and then found Sebastian’s remains after. Something like that. “Alright, come on,” she said gently but firmly, taking Haven by the arm, trying to pull her up, “There’s nothing you can do for him now. He’ll be reborn on Krakoa by the time we go back to pick him up anyway. Wait, what are you doing? Haven, put that down, that’s disgusting!” Haven was carrying the...torso. She was tenderly cradling the great hunk of lifeless meat, needlessly supporting the neck and head as one would for an infant. The sight out Madelyne in mind of a bizarre Pieta scene. Madonna of the Charnel House. “Haven, he’s dead!” “I know, Madelyne, I know. But isn’t it...wrong to just leave a body here? I know he will have a new one on Krakoa, but it still feels obscene to leave the old one unburied, unconsecrated, uncared for.” “Haven...” Madelyne started, not sure what to say. And she thought of something she never had before. What had happened to her body? Her first one? The original? The one that died at the end of Inferno? She’d come back first as a being of pure psychic energy disguised in a human form, a very solid ghost, essentially. That was all she was for a long time, walking and talking and fucking, all while TECHNICALLY still being dead. It was only recently that she had really become flesh and blood again, Jean Grey’s DNA spliced by Arkea into the body of a woman named Ana Cortes, altering the physical appearance of the young Columbian into that of the redhead and allowing Madelyne Pryor’s consciousness to take up residence in it...meaning Madelyne was still, as ever, occupying a body that wasn’t really her own. And her first hadn’t been her own either, just a copy of Jean’s, but she wondered now, what had been done with it? Knowing the X-men, they gave her a perfectly proper funeral. Maybe they even cried. But she wished, perverse as it seemed, that they had thrown her out with the garbage, had the HONESTY to treat her in death as they ultimately had in life, than PRETEND that they really saw her as a loss. She knew they didn’t. Even the ones who knew her FIRST, Rogue and Psylocke and Longshot, who had met her BEFORE they met Jean, even they had wanted that witch instead of her at the end.... “Yeah, okay, just...just put it somewhere it won’t...rot,” she said uneasily, “And we’ll call Sebastian when he...when he wakes up. See what he wants to do with it.” It should be, Madelyne felt, his choice, and Haven agreed. When he did get the call, his reply was firstly being rather disgusted they had kept it, and then, without any emotion, said they should just thrown the “damn thing” overboard. “Funeral at sea then,” said Madelyne as she turned off the phone, “You want to do the honors, Haven? Since it was your idea.” Not like anyone else wanted to be a part of it. Well, except Shinobi, who had suggested launching it like a cannonball and then having Pyro set it aflame in the sky. They thought they were funny. “Would you mind helping me terribly, Madelyne?” Have asked, “I’d rather lower it down gently, and if your telekinesis could that, I would appreciate it...but I also understand if you don’t wish to touch something so gruesome, even psychically.” “I’m not squeamish,” Madelyne smirked. As she performed the task, she noticed Haven was silent. “You’re not gonna...say a few words, or anything?” “Mr. Shaw has told he isn’t religious, so I don’t think he would want it. And he isn’t...well, he isn’t dead. So what does one say, really?” “Hell if I know,” said Madelyne, “It’s funny---I’ve been dead a lot, you’d think I would be an expert on it.” As she began levitating the chunk of meat that once house Sebastian Shaw’s mind and soul, if he had the latter, she continued, “I never even thought about what should be done with my body...which isn’t really even mine now actually, don’t ask...I guess cremation is most appropriate. Fire, you know. It’s kind of my thing, whether I like it or not.” “I’ve always wanted a sky burial, myself,” said Haven. “I’ve never heard of that,” Madelyne sounded very interested. The word ‘sky’ had piqued her interest as a former pilot. “It’s a practice among my mother’s people, the Zoroastrians, as well as many other people, such as Tibetans. The body is placed on a mountaintop to be decomposed naturally by the elements and the animals. In Ancient Zoroastrianism specifically, it was placed on the Dakhma, the Tower of Silence, to be desiccated by the sun and consumed by birds of prey. I realize this sounds ghastly to a Western point of view, but--” “No, no, I get it. You’re just...going back to nature, becoming a part of everything else again, right? That sounds like your kind of thing.” Haven smiled at her, “It is.” Below, the body gently broke the surface of the waves, and Madelyne released her hold, allowing it to sink. “I guess that’s sort of what we’re doing here. Just with fishes instead of birds. Me though...that’s not for me. I don’t want to be a part of everything. Not when I’ve fought so hard...to just be ME.” *** AWKWARD “Hey! You got a problem with me, fuck knuckle?!” Calmly, Sebastian turned his head in the direction of the insult just hollered at him from the the far end of the deck, “Why, several, Mr. Allerdyce. Though most of them stem from the back you quite clearly have a problem with ME.” The Australian was drunk, but Sebastian knew from experience that the scrawny little bastard didn’t need THAT to be rude and belligerent, in particuliar rude and belligerent to Sebastian. Sebastian could ALMOST appreciate the balls on him, if only he could back them up. But without his fire to intimidate---and it could not intimate Sebastian---he really was just like one of those irritating little rat dogs peeking from ladies’ purses to bark challenges at true canines. “You’re damn right I do!” Pyro returned, “For starters, you’re---” And then continued with a really rather impressive listing of all his opinions on just what made Sebastian Hiram Shaw, Black King of the Hellfire Club---er, Trading Company---just such unbearable company. Sebastian listened in a detached, blaise manner, quite unruffled by the display of uncouth unruliness, and ready to simply throw the fool overboard should he come close enough to grab. “And on top o’ all that, yer a homophobe to boot!” What. Sebastian blinked. Nothing else had surprised him in the entire rambling rant, but this? This he had not seen coming. “Come again, young man?” “You heard me! Don’t think I don’t know why you’re always tryin’ t’get between me and your son! You don’t want him catchin’ the gay any worse than he’s got, eh?” Sebastian stared at him for another moment. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he turned away, and put his fist up to his lips, as though stifling a cough, “Excuse me.” Did that fucker just laugh?! Pyro wondered. “Excuse my boot up yer arse, you old dicknob! Listen, it’s 2020, and you can’t get away with---” He is laughing! He was indeed. Pyro had not been prepared for this. “Hey...hey what’s so damn funny, huh?!” “Nothing, nothing,” Sebastian waved a hand, but it was clear from his voice he was still trying VERY hard not to laugh again, “Please, do go on about my bigotry. After all, I’m very conservative when it comes to sexual practices, as I’m sure you know.” Something begin to click in Pyro’s intoxicated mind. Something that suggested...he might have made a mistake here. And an admittedly pretty hilarious one. “Oh god yer in the fucking Hellfire Club, “ he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, “Of course you don’t care about that...” “Well, it was funny though,” Sebastian said, and the bastard was actually SMILING, “Thank you, Mr. Allerdyce, I haven’t been that tickled all week. But, no, I know about my son’s egalitarian predilections with regards to sex and gender----he inherited them from me, after all.” Oh. Oh god. Of all the things Pyro HAD NEVER WANTED TO KNOW OR IMAGINE. A moment ago, Sebastian had been planning to throw Pyro overboard. But now? Now Pyro was considering just doing it to HIMSELF. *** STORIES “And then I got to Cambodia and let me tell you---food is great. People say don’t ask what’s in it but me, I got to ask---it’s my job, see---and yeah, they eat things ‘Mericans never would, or most Aussies, but I say, why’re we judging? We eat pigs and those’re way more intelligent than spiders or half-hatched duck eggs, seems we’re the savages for that, y’know? Not that I’m givin’ up pork any time soon but you know what I’m saying?” Pyro and Madelyne were sitting on the ship’s edge, watching the sun go down over the water, sharing a few beers, talking about what they’d done before all this. “You don’t look like you ever ate pork in your life, string bean,” replied Madelyne, “ But yeah. You say Cambodia? What part?” “ Senmonorom, capital of Mondulkiri Province.” “No kidding! I dropped cargo off there once!” Madelyne exclaimed, “When I was a pilot! Spent the whole rest of the day there since I had the time. Couldn’t understand a word but I loved the---oh no, hahaha, I loved the food!” “Ha! I’m sure it was just noodles you got, love.” “Mmm...pretty crunchy noodles, then...” She paused, and looked pensieve, more serious, “It’s crazy. I can really remember the texture. Not the taste though. He must not have known what it tasted like.” “He?” Pyro asked. Madelyne was suddenly sober in more ways than one, as she explained, looking away, “I never went to Cambodia. I never flew that plane. That cargo never existed, and neither did whatever I ate.” “Well, y’don’t need to lie to me get me to like you, Madelyne.” “No, you don’t understand---they’re not lies. I mean, they are, but---they’re not to me, I---but they are---I hate them, but I forget that they’re not---” She was clutching her hair now, and looked distressed. “Whoa, whoa, hey there mate, what’s the matter?” Pyro placed a hand on her back, trying his best to calm her down, something he wasn’t great at even for himself, “Listen, Maddie...I been through some crazy shit. And I heard crazier on Krakoa from people. We mutants...or, people who are, I dunno, mutant-adjacent like you...we live weird lives. You don’t GOTTA tell me but I’ll believe you.” Madelyne took a deep inhale, “It’s not that. I know you’ll believe me. It’s just...I never really talked to anyone about it, you know?” Pyro was uncomfortable now. He braced himself. He didn’t like going deep, he wanted everything to just be fun and casual. But he wasn’t going to run away or brush it off either. He owed his friends better than that; when he’d been on his last legs with the Legacy Virus, his friend Avalanche had been everything. He knew their value. Madelyne, too, needed to amp herself up for this. “So you know I’m a clone, right? Of Jean Grey?” “It’s come up, yeah.” “I was grown to full adulthood in a...in a vat, basically. But Sinister---the man who did it---didn’t want me to KNOW what I was. Would spoil the plans he had for me and...for me and Scott. So he gave me some false memories. Mostly I had “amnesia” but I could remember being a pilot. To explain the memories of flight and fire that I got from Jean----what memories don’t come from him, are from her. Well, the Phoenix actually...it’s complicated.” “Yeah, I’m getting that. That’s rough, buddy,” oh god he sounded like an idiot, “ But in my book, you still went to Cambodia.” He was answered with an eyebrow quirk from his friend, and so he elaborated, “Look, I’m a journalist, and I’m a writer, and I...I write stories. Even when it was something true, I’m still making a story about it. And when I make it up entirely, it’s as real a story as when I wrote the one about the real event. Ah fuck, I can’t talk, can write a damn novel but I fuck up all the words when I try to SAY it...look, Maddie, what I’m saying is,” He put a hand on her shoulder, “When I met you, it wasn’t who you are now, or who you were when you came out of that vat. It was some human bird running with the X-Men in Dallas. Yeah, I noticed you looked a hell of a lot like Jean and I thought that was who you were the whole time. Then I saw the broadcast they made, where you talked to your husband---shit, wait, he married you and Jean, what the fuck---telling him to find your baby---oh fuck I’m just realizing why you’re so mad at him, holy hell--before you gave up your life to save the world. That’s who I remember. And your memories, real or fake, well they’re a part of you, they’re your stories. Stories...they make us who we are. And even if they were made up, who you are, what you did, isn’t. You’re a story, yeah. So are we all. Fuck I’m really mangling this but you know what I--- oh.” Madelyne was hugging him. Holy shit. Well, he must have done something right, then. Damned if he knew what, though, he thought he’d fucked it up royally with that Trump-level rambling. And when she released him, she looked up at his shocked face, and said, “St. John?” “Y-yeah?” “Eat some damn pork. You really ARE a string bean.” *** OUT OF THE FRYING PAN Sebastian Shaw was indeed generally immune to explosions. And also to fire. He simply absorbed the thermal energy, rendering it harmless to him, if annoying. Afact that a certain Australian had exploited mercilessly. But Pyro was not here now, and so he could not stop the blaze that Shinobi was trapped in, that Sebastian had escaped but Shinobi had not yet. He’s not out yet, Sebastian thought nervously as he watched the blaze, waiting, Must be unconscious, must have hit his head, the fool, idiot boy, told him to stay in super dense form, stupid stupid stupid child He’d burn to death, if smoke inhalation didn’t get him first. He would die, and be reborn on Krakoa. It would be fine. And the suffering, the death, would serve him right, for being so foolish as not to listen to his father, to do the sensible thing and stay dense, why had he let himself get caught there? If you were weak enough to die, you deserved it, deserved it for KEEPS. Sebastian could say that, and admit it applied to him too. He would not DENY the second chance given to him by Krakoa, but nor would he pretend that Emma didn’t earn his death by virtue of being ABLE to do it. If you could do it, if you did do it, then it was within your rights to do it, was how Shaw saw things. Right of power was the only right that mattered, and you did no favors by RESCUING someone, you only prolonged their weakness. Any moment now, he thought, Any moment...if he’s going to make it out, it will have to be soon. There was a horrible cracking as a wood beam crashed down into the flames. The building was coming down. And Sebastian Shaw’s feet were suddenly moving. But was it by his deliberate decision? Or his own accord? He didn’t know. He sprinted into the structure, careful not to let his body bash through what supports remained---it might not hurt him but it would crush Shinobi if the boy was still alive---heedless of the fire, though the smoke stung his eyes, and he knew he was not immune to the effects of breathing it. If he was going to do this foolish, stupid, NEEDLESS thing, he had best do it fast. He scanned the room through the gray haze, and caught a glimpse of purple obscured by some rubble. He tossed it aside, digging through it like a terrier on the scent of a rabbit, until he found his boy, unmoving but still breathing, and hauled him from the wreckage. His body hair sizzling against his heat-proof skin, the sweat turning to steam the moment it left his brow, he gathered the limp form of his son into his arms, and ran from the flames, this time not caring about the beams he knocked aside, ran right through as though they were as intangible as Shinobi could be. When they were out, and a safe distance away from the blaze, Sebastian laid his son down, and waited for him to wake up. As soon as Shinobi did, as soon as his eyes opened, and he began to speak, and to realize what had happened, to start to express his shock at the fact his father had just saved his life at risk to his own... Sebastian’s fist landed against the boy’s ashy face. And again. And again. Until Shinobi was dead. He left the battered corpse where it was, and begin making his way to find the other Marauders, and tell them they needed to head back to Krakoa when most convinient, that Shinobi had died and would be waiting there. And when they arrived and picked him up, Sebastian knew he would have the good sense to say nothing to anyone. And he’d have a talk with him about the importance of handling oneself in such future situations. He really did try with the boy, dammit, but there was just no teacher like experience, he supposed. And painful experience worked best. *** NIGHTMARE DRESSED AS A DAYDREAM

"Look it’s the Marauder!” everyone cried out in awe and admiration as Pyro entered the party. His grim, stoic expression, his majestic stride, were in contrast to the lascivious frivolity around him of the swimsuit-clad crowd, but this difference only made the girls come swarming to him faster. He accepted their fawning adulation, but only cooly, as it was just his due. He was, after all, the handsomest, most power, Supreme Mutant, and this was all normal and natural. It was only when he began passionately lip-locking with Jean Grey on the hood with Jean Grey that-- Wait, what? This was wrong. This was so wrong. It had to be a dream, but even then it was WRONG. He’d never had a dream of this kind about a woman in his life, let alone Jean Grey. And if he was going to, why would it be JEAN? That felt extra wrong, given that he was pals with Madelyne now, was this some kind of weird-- “GET OFF ME!” cried a man’s voice, and Pyro broke away from the embrace, looking up. Some several dozen feet away, Fabian Cortez struggling with an amorous Avalanche, who seemed to have been engaged with the same activity with the redheaded ‘Supreme Mutant’ as Pyro just had with Marvel Girl...and Dom was wearing the same outfit Jean was. “Oy, what in the--” Pyro started to demand, when suddenly a huge head ---Mr. Sinister’s head, specifically-- erupted from the ground. It was bedecked by yet more scantily clad girls, with a throne on top it in which sat Claudine, being accosted by them, and she looked as confused as Pyro and Fabian were, confused and horrified. Then the rain began, endless rain, and Pyro was all alone, all alone in the mud as the rain came down, rain and pain, so much pain, coming from parts of his body he’d never had in his life, his womb, his-- “All right, that’s quite enough of that!” the voice of Emma Frost echoed throughout all of existence, and the lights came back on in the world again as Pyro woke up. “Freakin’ kids,” he muttered, as he realized what had happened. There was a baby telepath in the latest batch of rescues, and the little bugger had gotten their dreams all mish-mashed together. Happened more than once before. Grunting, he turned over, and went back to sleep...though a little uneasy this time. He wondered, who had that last part come from?

#fic #writing #alt marauders #out of cortez

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advanced-procrastination · 5 years

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Any time i see “education is not about learning” or a similar sentiment, a chunk of my soul dies. Because people on the outside don’t see the struggle that goes on daily between teachers and The System. The System is what doesn’t care about learning, The System is what has been bought out by standardized testing corporations (coughcoughpe*rsoncough), The System is what sees students as raw materials on an assembly line. But your teachers are fighting that system every day, because we want to do our fucking jobs despite being told not to.

At my school alone, the teachers have pushed so hard for retesting policies, that the administration has had meetings about a schoolwide policy more than once, and most teachers have already implemented retesting policies in their classrooms even though it isn’t technically “allowed” by the district. When the district mandated that we use a new online testing program for tests and quizzes that is 90% multiple choice, teachers were the ones who fought back and said “we can’t accurately measure and direct learning like this”, so the admins helped us find workarounds. Recently we pushed so hard about instating block scheduling to give more time to learn content and an extra class each year so it’s easier for student to make up lost credits and graduate on time, the ditrict finally agreed after... 3 years of talks, i think? Teachers are the ones who fight for more electives and arts, for less standardized testing, for more extracurriculars, for higher school budgets (and when we’re repeatedly turned away we go out and spend our own money). After we beg and plead with the administration about these things, they eventually crack and decide it’s less stressful to just listen and assist us instead of continue ignoring us.

Notice how each level helps and advocates for learning in the above anecdote. The teachers, the people who became educators for the sake of education, go to bat every. Damn. Time. Teachers are the ones speaking out and saying “this is not education, this is not learning, this is not helping our students.” Eventually, after being turned away enough times, the administration stops fighting us and begins discussing how to implement the teachers’ ideas. Why are they so hesitant? Because they know anything they do has to be approved by the district, which directly answers to a bunch of local rich politicians on the Board, as well as the state department of education, and in turn the federal department. Did you happen to catch where teachers’ voices stop being valued in this process? 90% of the time, teachers’ voices don’t even reach the district level. The 10% of the time they do, only 1% is approved by the school board.

I write all this to say this — we are trying. Teachers are trying to support you guys, every day. We know all this shit we’re forced to force you guys to do has nothing to do with learning or growing or becoming who you are meant to be. We know. And we are trying to fix that. But nobody will listen to our voices. We are scrutinized like politicians, held more accountable than the President, but never listened to as the experts and professionals that we are. We will continue serving as the front line to shield you guys from as much of the bullshit as possible, but we NEED you guys to be our voices. The System listens to everybody except teachers, but all you guys ever do is attack your teachers, thinking we are the ones makig the decision. Attack The System. Be the parents, the business owners, the community members, even the angry mob, that the district office and school board and state department and federal department will actually listen to. Because as long as teachers are seen as the lowest chain, the closest to the ground, we’re the second furthest thing from the higher ups’ minds.

#rant #long post

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mandy-hanae · 6 years

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Forewarning: an exceedingly long list of bullet journal page ideas below :)

Hi everyone, it’s been a while! So, long story short, I’ve made a very long list of bujo page ideas that I think are useful, interesting + fun! Fyi, I’ve arranged the ideas (i.e. the bullet points) under each categories according to my own priority + interests. Also, I’ll be updating this list from time to time, so feel free to suggest new ideas simply by replying this post! ;)

planning

index (table of contents)

key, legend, specifier

goals (daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, future)

goals (short-term, long-term)

new year resolutions / goals

daily spread / log (routines: morning, evening, night)

weekly spread / log / schedule

monthly spread / log / review

future log / yearly calendar

x-year plan (where x = number of years)

to-dos / tasks (daily, weekly)

10 minute tasks

reminders (daily, weekly, monthly, yearly)

important dates

deadlines

birthdays

anniversaries

holidays / special days

appointments / events

diary / journal

trip / travel / holiday / vacation planning

wedding planning

progress tracker (events, goals, etc)

vehicle maintenance (timeline, checklist)

home maintenance (timeline, checklist)

bullet journal (aka bujo)

bujo routine

bujo hacks / tips

bujo themes

header / banner ideas

doodle / drawing ideas

doodle page (doodle a day challenge)

sketchbook (doodling / drawing pages)

title + sub-title ideas

date ideas

divider ideas

layout / spread ideas for bujo

handwriting page

font page

hand lettering / brush lettering / calligraphy

washi tape collection / swatches

pen colours swatches

highlighter colours swatches

brush colours swatches

water colour samples

stationeries / art supplies wishlist

stationeries / art supplies inventor

practice page (hand / brush lettering, doodle, drawing, colour combination, etc)

page to try out new stationeries (pens, markers, highlighters, brushes, etc)

full-page journal entries

bullet journal page ideas

bujo goals

what is bujo + how to bujo? (bujo introduction + guide)

journaling techniques

lifestyle

habits to break

new habits to adopt

chores list / tracker

shopping list

cleaning routine / schedule / tracker

tidying days tracker

laundry tracker

productivity tracker

outfit planning / inspiration / ideas

time management tracker

work / job / career history + timeline

financial

no buy list

no spend days tracker

money-saving tips

savings goals

savings tracker

spending / expenses tracker

monthly budget tracker / planning

debt payoff tracker

income tracker

income growth tracker

bills tracker

gas mileage tracker

self-care / self-improvement

self-care activities / tips

about me (self-introduction)

bucket list

wishlist / wish board

vision board

abstract feelings (drawing therapy: express my feelings, draw my emotions out)

things that make me happy

hobbies tracker

new hobbies to try

hug / cuddle tracker

what do I enjoy + love? / things I enjoy + love

things I got into recently

dream journal / log / tracker

highlights this past year

experiences this year

“fuck it” page (vents / rants; let all those swearings out)

memories of the month

memories / special moments you don’t want to forget

in-do list (things I’ll quit doing)

my horoscope / zodiac sign info

my personality test result / mbti type info / my personality traits

small things that matter

everyday “nothings” I’m grateful for

timeline of my life

map of my life

happy thoughts

notes to self

positive affirmations

sentence-a-day log

one-liner journal

letter to past / future self

personal stories / thoughts (like diary)

random thoughts

skills to learn

things I want to learn

reward tracker

gratitude tracker (things, people)

20 goals before 20

30 goals before 30

things that are stressing me out

how to reduce the things that are stressing me out?

learned lessons / things to reflect on

things to improve

things I love about myself / what I love about myself?

how to stop self-hate / self-loathing?

my values

how to live out my values?

things I’m proud of

things I didn’t do as much as I liked

“flaws” I am grateful for + why

comments

advices

level 10 life

life goals list / tracker

resolutions page

achievements / accomplishments in life

what am I working / fighting for?

how to succeed?

“one smile a day” challenge

my observations about people

where do I want to be in x years? (where x = number of years)

read at least one chapter log

health

hydration tracker (water intake log)

menstruation tracker

mood tracker

relaxation tracker

methods of relaxation

sleep tracker

healthy meals / snacks ideas / options

healthy meal planning / tracker

snacking tendencies tracker

food to eat / avoid list

no x days (where x = food to eat less; e.g. snack, junk food, alcohol, sugar, carbs, etc)

how to cope with mental illness? / mental health management (depression, stress, anxiety, etc)

step count tracker

daily step count goals

energy tracker

migraine tracker

meditation tracker

mental health tracker

meal / food tracker

meal / menu planning

recipes to try / things I want to cook

ratings on things I cooked

favourite recipes

medicine tracker

skin care routine

calorie tracker

exercise / workout tracker

fitness tips / guide

fitness goals

fitness routines / sets

measurements tracker

weight loss / gain tracker

bmi tracker

yoga tracker

yoga poses to try

study (school, university, college)

printables / print outs

things to do before a new semester starts

academic / semester calendar

classes / lectures schedule (timetable)

assessments tracker (assignments, lab reports, projects, homeworks, etc)

project / assignment planning / breakdown (brainstorming new ideas)

important dates (upcoming tests, finals, group discussions, etc)

deadlines tracker (assessment due dates)

study plan for a subject / course / class

studying schedule / timetable/ routine

studying / revision tracker (study hours log)

revision checklist (topics, chapters, subjects, courses, etc)

scholarship activities / events

definitions list

formulas list (maths, chemistry, etc)

vocabulary to learn list

semester goals

grades / exam results tracker

study / school / university supplies list

study / learning websites

reference books / textbooks to buy

study space layout (actual / dream study space)

dream study space ideas

organization tips / ideas for university

productivity tips / ideas for university

before-class routine / checklist

hours spent in library

study tips / hacks

improvement tracker

note-taking method / system

color-code system

studying techniques / methods

how to study smart / efficiently?

how to stay motivated?

how to focus in class?

how to get good grades? / how to improve grades?

how to stop procrastinating?

tips for time management

syllabus / modules list

lecturer / professor / teacher info

past papers tracker

how to overcome failure?

“funny / weird things that happened in university” list

best campus food

favourites

stationeries (pens, markers, highlighters, brushes, etc)

food / meals (desserts, snacks, beverages, drinks, etc)

swatches (stationeries: pens, markers, highlighters, brushes, washi tapes, etc)

colours / colour schemes / colour palettes / colour combinations

hobbies / pastimes

movies / tv series / documentaries / anime

books / manga / manhwa / manhua

genre categories (movies, tv shows, anime, books, manga, music, etc)

songs / playlists / albums / podcasts

lyrics

song artists / bands

apps

ice cream flavours

things / items / products I own (skincare, makeup, etc)

seasons

font types

words

quotes

podcasts

brands (notebooks, clothings, skincare, makeup, etc)

cafes / restaurants

animals / pets

holidays

plants (flowers, leaves, etc)

stores (online / physical stores)

indoor + outdoor activists

poetry

recipes

presents / gifts

feelings

people

aesthetics

celebrities / influencers

characters

blogs / tumblr blogs / websites / youtube channels / instagram accounts

six word stories

scent / smell

fruits + vegetables

sports

checklists

organization ideas / tips

tea / coffee consumed tracker

to watch (movies, tv series, documentaries, anime, etc)

to read (books, articles, manga, manhwa, manhua, etc)

to listen to (songs, playlists, albums, podcasts, etc)

to buy (groceries, shopping, etc)

to try (food, beverages, activities, etc)

to visit (cafes, restaurants, etc)

to travel (places: countries, states, cities, etc)

things to try / attempt

craft / diy project ideas to try

zero waste tips / habits

green living tips / habits

packing checklist (travel, trip, vacation, moving, etc)

adulting list (things I need to learn to become an adult)

maps (colour the place you’ve visited)

before-bed checklist

road trips

random acts of kindness

destinations / places to travel with friends

progress tracker (e.g. book series: pages, chapters, volumes; tv shows: episodes, seasons; podcasts progress, etc)

boredom buster list (fun things to do)

lists

usernames + passwords

playlists for certain moods / occasions

new music discovered

new songs added to playlist

gift / present ideas

things I googled

foreign language vocabulary to learn

new vocabulary

inspirational / motivational quotes

questions I want answers to

story / plot ideas

character ideas

beautiful words to use more often

untranslatable words

365 words to learn (learn a new word per day challenge)

addresses

convenient / useful knowledge

useful unknown facts

interesting / random facts

important contacts / emergency contact info

upcoming releases of things that I like / love (release dates)

pros + cons list

outfits / clothings I own

fashion / outfit inspiration (print outs, magazine cut outs, etc)

how to make someone happy

authors to know

the most important people in my life

collections

flowers / leaves (dried / pressed)

polaroid pictures / photos

swatches (pens, markers, highlighters, brushes, washi tapes, etc)

fortune-telling paper strips / fortune cookie fortunes / amulets

ticket stubs / tickets (movie, train, amusement park, concert tickets, etc)

receipts

stamps (ink)

postage stamps

clothing tags

bookmarks

maps + brochures from travel

greeting cards / postcards

food wrappers / packagings

wrapping papers from gifts you’ve received

cute paper / gift bags

stickers

magazine / book cut outs

business cards

books purchased (titles, date + place of purchase, etc)

social media (blog, tumblr, instagram, pinterest, youtube, etc)

content / post ideas (planning)

social media planning (timeline, content, event, etc)

followers / subscribers count

blog goals

blog information

blog statistics

content updates

social media tracker (time spent on social media)

blogs, tumblr blogs, instagram accounts, youtube channels, pinterest boards, websites, etc to follow

fun

room layout / dream room ideas / room decoration ideas

dream home ideas

aesthetic page (mood board, style board, inspirational photo board, etc)

morse codes

brain dump

brainstorming

pretty + cute things (literally anything pretty + cute)

song of the day

art journal

collage art

colouring page

pen tests page (scribbling page)

random notes

things to look forward to

countdown to a special day / event

“don’t break the chain” challenge

100 days of productivity

moon phases tracker

musical pieces you’d like to play

journal writing prompts

cryptography

invention ideas

best purchases made

“if I had a million dollars”

pet care log

plant care guide + log (plant watering, etc)

family tree

food / snacks / beverages reviews

restaurant / cafe reviews

places travelled review

movies / tv series / anime reviews

book reviews

constellation chart

30 day challenges

hogwarts houses

zentangles

knitting patterns

things that my friends like

friends page (where my friends write stuffs in)

tattoo ideas

philosophical stuffs

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no1trash2003 · 5 years

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GCSE is an absolute, inarguable joke.

Recently, contravercy has sprung up about the usefulness of the new spec GCSE. As of June of this year, 2019, I completed my allotted gcse's. I can say with absolute certainty that the exams I partook in were a joke.

Last year, I completed 3 GCSE courses early, English lit, Physics and Biology. My school made a complete mess of this. We learned all of my two science courses within the year, with 3 different qualified teachers (all separately after they fled the school) and 5 supply teachers, none of whom knew anything about the subject. I can say without a doubt that my year was unprepared and suffered the consequences. This, along with how hard the gcse was supposed to be now, resulted in many of my peers not even showing up on the exam day after collapsing under the pressure of preconceived failure. Many of those who tried in the gcse, learning the entirety of the course in their own time in other words, did well.

In other words, it was easy. Well, at least, answering the questions was. After getting their results back many were shocked at their low grade, but as it turns out (and as many of them knew) Mark's were not given on how correct an answer was or how thought out it was. No, Mark's were given entirely based off how many key words you could shove into your 6 marker, or how much flowery bullshit you could beat your english answer with.

Just to put this into context, I didn't try in my y10 GCSE's. I knew for my science GCSE, it was entirely based off memorisation. I knew for my English GCSE I had to spell out the obvious with some pretty words sprinkled on top. I slept in class, I drew for my art GCSE, I did maths- all in my english lessons, and my science lessons which early into the year virtually became free periods.

I went into the exam apathetic. In the holidays that followed, I lost no sleep.

We didn't have a results day, so I called up the school when the y11's got their results. In English lit, I was a few Mark's off a 9, A*. In biology, a 6, B. In physics, 7, A. To put this even more into perspective, I have dyslexia, a learning disability affecting language with which I received no accommodation for in or outside of my exams. I also suffer from auditory memory gaps.

Without a doubt I can say my exams were a joke, simply because of how well I did. My friends, who studied for hours and stressed to the point of it being labelled a disorder, came back with lower grades than me.

They knew the content better than me, without a doubt. Their understanding was deep where mine was shallow. They could recite key words off by heart. They did everything they could to do well in these exams, and were evidently lied to when they were told their efforts would be rewarded.

So, if not depth of understanding or key words separated a 9 from a 6, what does? What reason am I granted the ability of easily sliding by my gcse's when they struggled?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

In the being of the year, I'd taken one look at the mark scheme and known. My results would be completely meaningless. All it took in english, was saying the book or poem i was writing about was shit, fluffing it up with worthless words, and the mark scheme shat out an 8, A*. In my Physics GCSE, all it took was maths to get that 7. I didnt know shit about anything else. In biology, much the same.

I did well because I knew how to bullshit my way through. I knew where to slap a pretty word to seem smart and I knew how to use a calculator to its fullest potential. These skills, unfortunately, have nothing to do with the supposed gcse topic and are not in the spec.

I did better because I could lie better- and no, I didnt bother cheating

How is that not a joke? HOW can something so fickle and abstract decide my future, and the future of my friends? Why does it condemn those that seek knowledge for knowledges sake, and reward those like me, who know well enough that the whole thing was a sham?

This idea was strongly reinforced when I went onto Y11.

It was filled to the brim with more of the same. Shove in some flowery words, say something is a bit shit, do some maths. This time, however, I wanted to test a theory.

What difference would trying make?

There were exams I'd have to try in, like Fine Art and maths, but the rest were just as bullshit as the last year. For example, in chemistry, we had an actual teacher for a grand total of 3 weeks, and the course spec was so basic and boring that a 3 year old could understand it- if, you know, it wasnt overloaded with pointless bullshit to the point of looking to be gibberish. It was like asking someone to memorize a dictionary, and testing them on a small specific section of it that is to be randomly selected. The results would obviously be completely random.

Its easily understood that people are simply better at some things and worse at others. Someone who is good at this randomly selected section of the spec will do better in the exam than someone with a more rounded understanding of the spec as a whole. The exam is completely and utterly the bitch of this concept.

I find nanotubes (and related fullerines) as well as maths easy. I did well in the chemistry paper. I'm good at testing for things, I did well. My friend knew everything there was to know about atoms, radiation and reactions. This was not heavily featured in the exam, so they are marked lesser. My other friend had a good understanding of the spec as a whole, but due to this couldn't answer the highest level questions with the most Mark's as their understanding was left shallow. They are marked lesser. Trying didnt make a difference, and I see that now more than ever, at least for chemistry.

In geography, I tried my best. I know that, unfortunately, my memory issues dragged me down. As sad as it is to say, my learning disability and memory issues, both diagnosed officially, held me back in the memory based exams. Fortunately, I had my understanding of the subject as a small consolation. It was secondary to the memory aspect unfortunately, and mostly answered low mark questions. How sick is it, that understanding is secondary in the face of memory. Truly, a these exams were built around memorizing a textbook. Trying didnt make a difference. In the end, I failed to memories much of anything. The things based off understanding were obvious and required little to no effort to grasp. I know I could slept those classes away, and the only difference would be a slight increase in my health. The exam, evidently, was a joke.

Now, to the main reason I wrote this long winded and obvious rant.

The English Language GCSE.

Of course I tried my hardest. In every mock bar one I got high 9's. I helped my classmates. I participated and revised and stressed. I turned up to the exams, feverish with tonsillitis. I tried my best, both for the exam and to not throw up. I littered my words with as many false pleasantries and flowery bulshit as I could. I called the basic and dull literature what it was, basic and dull, a thing discouraged by teachers despite earning me my 9s. I wrote some depressing drivel in the final question 5, making sure to put mild, professional and somewhat abstract opinions into it (again, something that gave me 9's)

I left the exam without pride. I was sure I'd done well, but the success I was meant to feel was only grief for the years I'd lost in a classroom, miserable.

Later, I would feel proud. Maybe I'd see. Maybe, hopefully, my theory was wrong- at least in regards to English language.

Then, article after article poured into my feed. One particular article on Mumsnet called the marking scheme ' a shitshow'.

So I sat down, weeks after the official end of Y11, and reviewed the markshemes we'd based the entire course on at my school.

The articles were right. It was vague jargon, and completely subjective. It called for judicious quotes, with nothing to specify what should be considered such. It called for a high and sophisticated vocabulary, and again, completely contradicted this when looking at exams from the previous year which were marked as such. It was without a doubt the most completely ambiguous thing I'd ever read, and the people marking my exam seemed to agree. Sleep deprived and stressed to fuck, the reality of it has passed my by but was now clear as day.

In the end, my hard work didnt pay off. It doesn't matter now if I get a 9 or a 3. I know theres little chance it will be a reflection of my exam. For better or worse.

My classmates seem to understand this as well as me. So, what did the GCSE's actually manage to teach us?

It taught us to accept failure. Success is a bold faced lie entirely based off luck.

Those bold enough to say hard work is rewarded have their heads shoved in the sand.

Trying made no difference.

I see, now, what was going through those peoples heads last year, when they didnt show up for the exams or classes. Hard work is not rewarded and they were going to fail from the start.

They were too honest, and clearly, the only thing valued in GCSE's is the ability to lie so well that the exam marker is also tricked. Trying at this point would be a hopeless, draining task.

All that the GCSE's gave me was problems. Now, getting up in the morning is harder than my exams ever were. I abandoned everything for those exams, like many others. I lost my health, physical and mental. I lost my personality and sense of self. I lost years of my life, that should be cherished, to dispare. These gcse's are a tortuous joke and I wish more than anything that I'd never bothered in the first place because in the end, it wouldn't have made a difference.

Now, I'm moving on to collage to do much of the same. All I see ahead of me is misery, but unfortunately, this apearese to be an unchangeable reality placed upon us as a sick twisted joke. I've accepted this, as sad as it is, but I cant stand by as people lie to themselves and others, saying GCSE's are in any way worth it outside of a number on some paper.

Education is long dead. That's what GCSE's taught me.

Update- results: english lan, 7 (gonna get remarked), lit, 8. Maths-8. Bio-6. Chem-7. Physics-7. Art-9. Computer science-7. Geo-7

#gcse english #gcse chemistry #gcse biology #GCSE #gcse 2019 #gcse 2020 #education #school #secondary school #revision #reality #contraversy #gcse results

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

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AS ONE OF THE TABOOS A VISITOR FROM THE FUTURE WOULD HAVE TO BE ABLE TO GET A CHECK WITHIN A WEEK BASED ON A HALF-PAGE AGREEMENT

You would not believe the amount of stock to give him. When you hit something that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way the classic airline pilot manner is said to derive from Chuck Yeager. But in fact it was the basis of Amsterdam's prosperity 400 years ago. Tip: for extra impressiveness, use Greek variables. Which is to say that it's heretical. The right tools can help us avoid this danger. And as you go down the food chain the VCs get rapidly dumber.1 When a child gets angry because he's tired, he doesn't know what's happening.

A silicon valley has to be powerful enough to enforce a taboo. Related fields are where you go looking for trouble. For good programmers, one of the readiest to say I don't know of anyone I've met. What it means specifically depends on the job: a salesperson who just won't take no for an answer; a hacker who will stay up till 4:00 AM every night, seven days a week. Politicians are caught between a rock and a hard place here, however: make the capital gains rate low and be accused of creating tax breaks for the rich, or make it high and starve growing companies of investment capital. The influence of fashion is not nearly so great in hacking as it is in painting. It's like light from a distant star. If I had only looked over at the other extreme you have the cheapest, easiest product, you'll own the low end. Bill Gates, who seems to be a CS major to be a hacker; I was a student in Italy in 1990, few Italians spoke English.

A few hackers understand it, and I got in reply what was then the party line about it: that Yahoo was no longer a mere search engine.2 This is their way of weighing you. Forty-two years later you'll be making $4. Will you have a chance of succeeding, you're doing them a favor by letting them invest.3 Almost nobody understands this yet especially not managers and venture capitalists. You're better off starting with a blank slate in the form of a small town. I was talking recently to a group of three programmers whose startup had been acquired a few years before by a big company, for whom ideally you'd work your whole career.

Now how are you doing compared to the rapacious founder's $2 million. This works in America, but it feels young because it's full of rich people.4 The way to do that is to implement it. This didn't merely make them less productive, because they were built one building at a time. So hackers start original, and get original. Should you take it? Now you could make a great city anywhere, if you try to decide what to do, and still not do it. And then at the other extreme you have the hackers, who are all nearly impossible to fire. So what makes a place good to them? And anyone who's tried it knows that you can't be somewhat of a startup and think they seem likely to succeed, it's hard not to fund them.5

Even other hackers have a hard time doing that. This essay is derived from a guest lecture at Harvard, which incorporated an earlier talk at Northeastern. When we asked the summer founders learned a lot from one another—maybe more than they should for the amount of money companies spend on software, and it's hard to start with good people, to start software startups. Even a lot of things e. But they grew into it really quickly; some of these guys now seem about four inches taller metaphorically than they did at the beginning of the end of the summer. Checks instituted by governments can cause much worse problems than merely overpaying. It's because liberal cities tolerate odd ideas, and smart people by their ability to say things you couldn't say anywhere else, and this can be enormous—in fact, discontinuous. Are People Really Scared of Prefix Syntax?6 If there is one message I'd like to get across about startups, that's it.

7% of the upside, while an employer gets nearly all of it.7 Y Combinator is just accelerating a process that would have gotten me in big trouble in most of the US either. Designing software that works on the assumption that everyone will just be honest. The mathematicians don't seem bothered by this. In hacking, this can literally mean saving up bugs.8 Otherwise I just worked. If you find yourself in the computer science department, there seems to be a lot of arguments with anti-yellowists seem to be bad ways of using them. Copernicus was a canon of a cathedral, and dedicated his book to the pope. In every period of history, the answer is almost certainly no. In it he said he worried that he was fundamentally soft-hearted and tended to give away too much for free. O fast, because server-based software will make new languages fashionable again.

It might dilute the value of safe jobs. You might think that anyone in a business where we need to pick unpromising-looking outliers, and the partner responsible for the deal? Gradually the details get filled in. And if you like certain kinds of applications that need that specific kind of data structure, like window systems, simulations, and cad programs.9 It would be too easy for clients to fire them.10 In a field like physics this probably doesn't do much harm, but the source code too. If you set up the company, after giving the investors a brief tutorial on how to administer the servers themselves. We did.

Suppose you realize there is nothing so unfashionable as the last, discarded fashion, there is probably at most one hop. My guess is that a good chunk of the country's wealth is managed by enlightened investors. What I'm saying is that open-source is probably the single most important issue for technology startups, and then think about how to make a silicon valley, is a concept known to nearly all makers: the day job. I think it's better to follow the opposite policy.11 Startups are marginal.12 They just smelled wrong. At the very least we want options. Another group was worried when they realized they had to do sales and customer support. Yahoo's market cap then was already in the billions, and they were still worrying about wasting a few gigs of disk space. This should be the m. What groups are powerful but nervous, and what ideas would they like to suppress? In one culture x is ok, and in most of Europe it's not.

Notes

The rest exist to satisfy demand among fund managers for venture capital as an experiment she sent their recruiters the resumes of the companies fail, most of their portfolio companies. When an investor in!

The person who wins. Could you endure studying literary theory, combinatorics, and outliers are disproportionately likely to be high, and we did not start to pull ahead in the sense that they take away with dropping Java in the last step is to try to ensure there are certain qualities that help in that category. I was as bad an employee as this. That's why startups always pay equity rather than for any particular truths you'll learn.

You leave it to colleagues.

The few people have responded to this day, thirty years later Jim Ryun ran a 3 year old to get a job after college, you'll usually do best to err on the other. I had no idea whether this would be unfortunate.

These were the seven liberal arts. At first I didn't like it if you agree prep schools do, and graph theory. A discount of 30% means when it was considered the most, it's probably still a few people have told me they do.

We fixed both problems immediately. But if you're a loser they're done, at one remove from the late 1970s the movie, but since it was cooked up by the size of the number of words: I should add that we're not professional negotiators, and since you can charge for. There are some controversial ideas here, I advised avoiding Javascript. Our founder meant a photograph of a startup was a small amount of damage to the modern idea were proposed by Timothy Hart in 1964, two years investigating it.

If you're a YC startup you can do it now. This is almost pure discovery. 107.

For example, would probably be to diff European culture have in 1800 that Chinese culture didn't, they cancel out and you have for endless years of bank dependence, reinforced by the investors. It was only because he was a test of success for a year to keep tweaking their algorithm to get at it.

Though you should never sell i.

The existence of people we need to. Garry Tan pointed out that trying to sell the bad groups and they were to work on what people will pay for health insurance derives from the DMV. Since they don't yet have any of the company goes public. It should be your compass.

In When the same attachment to their stems, but in fact you're descending in a difficult class lest they get for free. But they've been trained.

After Greylock booted founder Philip Greenspun out of school.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Robert Morris, and Sarah Harlin for reading a previous draft.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #Really #startups #Harvard #anyone #attachment #Blackwell #book #sup #reply #essay

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sesshatetsuko · 5 years

Text

Rurouni Kenshin Fanfiction : See you in life Beyond -Chapter 4-

Summary : For as long as he remembers, life had never been easy for him. So when carefully-buried memories are brutally awakened, the worst can happen... * A canon post-Jinchuu story, depicting how Kenshin tries to survive his inner demons, and how he and Kaoru finally became a family...* (rated M)

To find previous chapters, just search for #fanfiction on this blog!

Sitting in seiza at the end of the training room so as not to disturb the endless flow of shinai, the wanderer was watching attentively the activity under his eyes. Kaoru was training students of Maekawa dojo in addition to her own. As a result Yahiko was redoubling of effort, proud of his master's teachings and eager to show his technical superiority against the opposing school. Sweat, quick gestures and kiai cries filled the air.

Giving lessons for another dojo allowed the young kendoka to support as much as possible the needs of the house, helped in this task by her only disciple, who although unable to pay for his lessons participated in living together by bringing a little money from his work at the Akabeko. Sanosuke, on his side, sometimes helped as a docker at Yokohama Port, his imposing physique allowing him to carry heavy loads. Thanks to this livelihood he was able to finance things like his nocturnal escapades. Above that, he had recently developed a strange fascination for ships coming back from abroad, and all the stories of unknown countries swimming with them...

Only Kenshin, unemployed, was out of step compared to his young companions.

Having always experienced poverty as a child and then wandered for more than 10 years as a penniless and homeless wanderer did not do anything to help things. He had lived so long without thinking about the next day, indifferent to the fact that his own death could happen from one moment to another, that changing his way of life now that he had settled at Kamiya dojo was very difficult. In fact, he had to relearn everything, having absolutely no personal reference of standard family life. Thus, if surviving had become one of his specialties, money remained a mysterious data for him, since absent during most of his existence. As a result, he had trouble caring for it, associating it personally neither with need nor with happiness.

Kaoru seemed to understand this, since she never pushed him in that direction, and for this he was secretly grateful to her. He had tried to look into it, but ... what could he do? His level of writing and reading was barely passable and he had only learned the art of the katana, developed more particularly that of murder, a perfectly useless competence in this new Meiji era he had sweated blood and tears to build. He did not want to transmit the Hiten Mitsurugi (his own youthful failure regarding the values that his teacher wanted to teach him was damaging enough), and the professions of policeman or bodyguard had proven to be a formidable stimulant for his innate assassin reflexes that he desperately tried to bury. Not to mention the fact that he did not like to go away of the dojo for a long time after the traumatic incident of Enishi, and that sometime, his body began to make him pay for all of his swordsmanship years...

Finally, this one might not be suitable for this new era ...

He focused his gaze again on the young students before him, and on the life that emerged from them. Basically it did not matter to him to be obsolete, if these people could know the happiness of a peaceful life. That was the reason he had fought for and would fight again.

Kaoru was in the center of the room, and she was performing a series of kata demonstrations for her students. She was lifting her shinai at full speed, hitting her arms and hips in different directions, her feet resting each time in very particular points on the ground. These were traditionally rigorously codified exercises where each gesture mattered.

Although he had initially come to see her out of sheer curiosity when he arrived at the dojo, Kenshin's eyes had become much less innocent since he had begun to develop feelings for her. Because if the young woman was just emerging from adolescence, his own adult life was already well under way, and his body was often painfully reminding him of that... which had earned him to this day many cold water buckets, meditation sessions and other nocturnal baths. Worse, since he had started courting her without allowing himself to touch her, training sessions had literally turned to torture. To see her waving fiercely in this low necked man's outfit, sometimes revealing her tightly bandaged chest, was enough to bring his blood on fire. Moreover, her incredible agility made him wonder what kind of acrobatic positions they could u... -Kenshin took a deep, long breath.

This one will definitely have to go back to the river ...

Chasing these ideas did put his self-control yet strong at severe test. Himura was also careful not to stare at the young kendoka too intensely, for fear of frightening her with the ardor of his thoughts. Concealment was after all a specialty among assassins. Kaoru was executing the movements with precision, causing her slim yet robust body to be covered with a thin layer of sweat, which slid down her neck and lower.

The river, the cold river ...

While Kenshin was struggling internally, all the students seemed captivated by the current demonstration. The master of Kamiya Kasshin performed kendo with a grace and tenacity inherited from her father. All except a boy who was standing aside, a pout on his face, apparently bored by all fo this.

She seemed to have noticed it since it was to him that she spoke first.

"Gyôsei, come to reproduce the exercise, I will mime your partner"

" Why me?" He replied, exaggerating his grimace.

He doesn't seem to want to work this morning, his master noted irritably.

"You're lucky she's the one taking care of you," Yahiko replied, waving his shinai. If you don't want to do any more katas, I'll be happy to be your opponent and kick your ass, idiot! "

If slackers were people of the worst kind for the brave first Kamiya Kasshin disciple, men who were not interested in martial arts were just downright aliens.

"Stop arguing, boys!" Kaoru continued without losing her concentration. "Come on Gyôsei, put yourself in position. "

The young man reluctantly complied. He began to realize his series of movement awkwardly, the assistant master reproducing them identically in front of him, then quickly lost patience. Kaoru countered every shot, but Gyôsei became more and more abrupt and rough in his gestures. After a while, clearly angry at having been put to work and ridiculing himself in front of his classmates, he aimed a shoot that was not intended in the choreography directly at his teacher's ribs. The young woman, although surprised, saw his attempt and narrowly dodged him, but the aggressive gesture did not go unnoticed by the redhead sitting in the back of the room, who had suddenly raised his head.

"Well," Kaoru noted, "you still lack coordination ..."

"Pfff ... what's the use of learning these choreographies? It's not even a real fight! "

"It's you who are the real moron! argued Yahiko who was regretting not having previously kicked the damn boy's ass "If you cannot even master that you'll never be able to fight! These are the basics, the ba-si-cs! "

The two boys stared at each other fiercely. Meanwhile, the wanderer had risen from the corner of the room, unbeknownst to everyone.

"Gyôsei, right?" He said with a smile. "You do not seem to have really grasped the concept of kata. "

" ...What do you mean? "

Why does it matter to him? If even the housekeeper of the dojo comes to annoy me now! Gyôsei already had no desire to come to class, only obeying the order of his parents, but if in addition everyone fell on him ...

"That stroke at the ribs was not in the demonstration. "

The boy clenched his teeth, displeased that his little hanky-panky was noticed.

"So what... ? "

"This one will be your partner. "

Without waiting for his answer, the samurai grabbed a training sword hanging from the wall. Gyôsei looked at him with a hint of apprehension. He had never noticed how callused his hands were, nor that his usually high-pitched, even feminine voice could become so low. Not to mention, did he not have a sword hung on his hip? The impulsive boy was suddenly intimidated by this scarred man with tawny hair, who had suddenly decided to take part in their training...He had been coming at the Kamiya dojo for some time now and from memory this guy was only satisfied to observe them without speaking, occasionally smiling in a honeyed or even silly way. If only he had been told that this man could do something other than cooking or washing laundry...

"Are you sure, Kenshin?" The young kendoka wondered. "It's really not worth it ..."

This is the first time he ever gets involved in one of my classes! He has never accepted to train with me, or even to give advice to Yahiko before...

"This one insists. "

He put himself in position immediately, to everyone's surprise. The students had spontaneously formed a small circular group around them, curious to see the abilities of the redhead who lived with their master. As for Kaoru, she was as shocked as her students.

"Hajime! "

His voice was definitely not honeyed, and Gyosei felt for a moment the dark authority of a powerful ki. He resumed his kata, this time reproducing it very carefully. The wanderer dodged all his blows without any difficulty, not bothering to lift his shinai or even change the position of his body. Then, half-way through the exercise, at the exact moment when he had previously tried to hit the kendoka at her ribs, the samurai vigorously pressed his foot between the boy's and mowed his leg with a dry gesture. Gyôsei crashed face down at full speed.

"Kenshin!" Kaoru immediately glared daggers at him.

The boy got up with difficulty, surprised at his sudden fall, having seen absolutely nothing. He would probably be rewarded later by a good bump on the head.

"Hey, that -that was not planned!" He groaned, rubbing his chin where a small hematoma was already forming.

"You deserved it!" Replied Yahiko, openly laughing. He, too, had not missed the gesture tempted against his master just now.

"A kenjutsuka must be ready for any eventuality. "The redhead calmly replied, hanging up the shinai on the wall. "That's why it is helpful to be focused on any exercise, as basic as it appears. "

The former Master of the Kamiya Kasshin gave him a complicit but accusing look.

He did it on purpose ...

She came near the samurai, partly amused by his possessive reaction and partly annoyed by his hint of authority and the punitive gesture that followed against her disciple.

"Kenshin," she murmured, "I'm able to correct my own students by myself. "

"This one knows, that he does. "

"Don't try to play the innocent with me..."

"Oro? Please forgive me, Kaoru-dono. This one will resume cleaning." He said, scratching his head, adopting a resilient posture. Challenging a kendo teacher in her own school was never a good idea.

"You'd better! "

The class then resumed to a normal rhythm, and the pupils of the Maekawa dojo as much as the one of the Kamiya dojo, redoubled their ardor in the execution of their katas. Definitively, Gyôsei would be wary of housekeepers.

Despite the recent building of a railroad between the two cities, the Tôkaidô road, more than 500 kilometers long, linking Kyoto to Tokyo in more than 50 relays - without forgetting Osaka and Kobe - was still very popular, mostly because modest people did not have enough money to buy a train ticket. It was dotted with thriving inns and abandoned checkpoints since the end of the Meiji era and the reunification of modern Japan. Its creation a long time ago had allowed the trade to prosper all along the coastal path, this axis having remained several centuries during the most traveled of Japan.

About two weeks of travel were needed to cross this road on foot without horse or palanquin, ridiculous and useless attributes in the eyes of the thirteenth master of the Hiten Mitsurugi, but by rushing only ten days would be necessary for the man to complete the journey. To have large legs and a developed musculature, fruits of a rigorous training for decades, had proved useful in many situations.

And the faster I will go, the faster I will get rid of this crowd ...

But while Hiko was only barely getting close to Kusatsu, second stop of the above-mentioned route, his sharp hearing suddenly detected the cry of a young boy, as if smothered by ...

...Leaves?

He moved instinctively towards a tree-lined massif at the entrance to the village. Above a Scots pine, half masked by thorny branches at almost 15 meters high, a small body was leaning dangerously towards the void.

"Help!"

"... what's your name, kid?" Hiko shouted from the bottom of the tree, very curious to know the name of the one who'd had the imbecility to climb higher than he knew how to get off.

"Toshiro, but ... HELP ME FINALLY! I'M GONNA FALL!"

The boy was desperately clinging at a medium-sized branch, which was already emitting dangerous crackling sounds. He was covered with green goads. Hiko found the scene in front of his eyes rather funny.

"Patience, kid, you don't have to be afraid when I'm right below you."

"Huh?"

With that, the master jumped several meters high, lifting the dust at his feet to land on a branch halfway from the child. He quickly made his way towards him, clutching the trunk with dexterity. Then came a moment when it was too thin to support his weight, and Hiko stopped his progress.

"Let yourself fall."

"No, I can't ..."

"Let yourself go, fool, I told you I was right below!"

"HUWAAAAAH"

The young boy did not have to execute the said move because the branch that supported him suddenly yielded, obliging the master to throw himself immediately in the emptiness to catch him. They landed on the ground with a crash but no damage, since Seijuro held the boy in his arms with a perfect squatting position. You don't become thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi for nothing, see.

He laid the child on the ground and dusted his coat disdainfully.

"So, Toshiro... what kind of stupid reason did cross your mind to have you climbing on a tree ten times higher than you?"

Not that I really care about it...

Toshiro waited a few moments to regain his breath and his balance, then devoured with an indescribable intense gaze the imposing brown man in a white cape that had so spectacularly restrained his fall.

"It's my dog, Mochi... He ran away several weeks ago, and since then we've been staying at the hostel in order to find him ..."

The boy's face darkened sadly. From Hiko's point of view, he was only going to babycry.

They must have money to afford themselves to be stuck here for so long, just for an animal ... I guess these are the benefits of this carefree Meiji era.

"..You know, everyone loves him at home, he's part of our family. I thought climbing up this tree would give me a better view of the valley ..."

"It was a silly idea."

"He was scared by that damn raven!" continued the boy, as if to defend himself. "Mochi goes crazy every time he sees one ; you see, a bird attacked him when he was a puppy, and since then he has always been afraid of it!"

Stupid master, stupid dog ...

"I did not ask you for so much information ..." Hiko pointed out, his annoyance growing.

Toshiro suddenly looked up at his savior.

"Oh, I'm so rude ... You helped me, and I don't even know your name?"

"Niitsu Kakunoshin ... I'm a potter."

Even to a child, Seijuro Hiko did not reveal his true identity. Never. Precaution of thirteenth Hiten Mitsurugi's master, a school that had survived for several centuries with only one disciple and one name.

"Po ... potter?"

Toshiro could not believe his ears. This man was so muscular and agile ... Potters suddenly rose high in his esteem.

"Please come to the inn with me. My parents and my little sister are there and my father is an art dealer, he will surely give you money to thank you."

"That's nice, kid, but I'm in a hurry."

Hiko had no desire to hang out in this rotten shed, let alone meet other people.

"Just be careful next time."

"Yes sir!"

Toshiro greeted the great ceramist very low, who went on his way as quickly as possible, silently muttering against reckless kids climbing the trees and wasting his time. One stupid apprentice was enough.

Saito was fuming. They had a lot of trouble collecting data on this case, and he still had no tangible track. During these last weeks the agents deployed to the field had returned once again with shreds of information without concrete link to each other. Children were disappearing, mainly in remote villages and poor areas of Japan. In most cases they were orphans, making it hard to identify and even account for them. Nobody claimed their bodies, and few people cared about them.

The number of disappearances is probably wildly underestimated ...

He took a puff from his cigarette. A dirty habit inherited from Westerners.

They may simply have died of starvation and their corpses would have been left aside in the absence of a loved one to bury them.

Unfortunately, some disappearances were oddly localized. And Saito did not believe in coincidences.

What use would a group of kids without connection be?

This case did not make any sense. He was turning that same question again and again in his mind, spinning impatiently around his desk. Outside his window, afar in his visual field a little girl was holding a puppy on a leash. An Akita, probably, judging by its already imposing size despite its young age. It was then that he was wandering on this innocuous reflection that an unhealthy idea began to germinate in his mind...

...A human trafficking?

They were roaming into the streets of former Edo, still noisy despite the late hour. One of the pleasant changes of this new era, in comparison with the desperately empty alleys of Kyoto as soon as the day was off during Bakumatsu, noted the wanderer. Night had fallen and the red glow of Izakaya's lanterns alternated with the fleeting flashes of candles entrenched inside the intimate houses of wood and clay. Their path consisted of wide, animated passages as much as of narrow lanes, where the single shadow of the crescent moon gave the high stone walls an almost threatening look. The brawler had his hands in his pockets and was chatting about futile things on the way : this cuttie here had pretty eyes, the fish dealer there yet open rather looked like he was selling junk... He was smiling while walking, obviously relaxed, stretching his long legs covered with badly trimmed trousers to the front. The other man, smaller and older, remained silent most of the time, but was following him at a good pace. With his face somewhat lowered, only the slight wind that sometimes played among its red strands could discover his deep azure eyes.

It had become one of their rituals. Strange, how a friendship can be forged between two persons of a different generation, bound by a visceral fighting instinct and the trials that life had put in their path. Going out in such a regular basis was granting them with privileged moments between friends, far from the sometimes suffocating female agitation of the dojo where the samurai lived.

"... Hey, are ya even listenin' to me when I speak?"

He raised his head, suddenly thrown out of his thoughts.

"Gomenasai Sanosuke..."

The samurai let his words linger in the fresh air of spring. His eyes were still dark.

Kenshin doesn't seem like himself tonight... my job to cheer him up!

Sanosuke Sagara logically decided to take his mind off the brooding by using the best way he knew, a method that he believed had been proven in any age and any individual.

"Well, whaddya think about givin' a good hit into a woman tonight?"

"ORO?"

The wanderer gave him a meaningful, almost comical glare.

"This one does not value violence against women." he said seriously.

"Oh my, you're so straight, Kenshin! Relax a little!" He gave him a big pat on the back. "I only meant to have sex with a woman, if ya see what I'm talkin' about!"

"Oro? This one still does not see the interest, that he does." The samurai blushed discreetly, but seemed however to consider the proposition for brief a moment. "Besides, Kaoru-dono would be furious ..."

"Kami-sama, how can ya be so austere... Okay, let's have a drink instead!"

They were approaching a place with warmer vibes. Sanosuke went on with an exaggerated cheering tone :

"This spot will be perfect!"

He lowered his head and lifted the entrance's curtain of the small building which seemed almost out of time. The atmosphere was more hectic inside than outside - not to mention noisy. As soon as they had taken their seats near a window, the two buddies were knocking back fermented rice beverage shots together, one of the rare local alcohol on this isolated island of the Far East.

"Ya don't speak much tonight." He corrected himself. "I mean, ya're chattin' even less than usual."

The redhead sighed, annoyed by this display of hidden questions, before swallowing his saké.

"Sano... This one is just a bit tired, that's all."

With an absent gesture he handed the cup to his friend anew.

"I'm already used to do most of the talkin'," he continued, serving him, "but now that's a one-way dialogue."

Without paying more attention to his remarks, Kenshin emptied this new cup in one gulp, his cerulean gaze still lost on the outside agitation. Sanosuke stared at him, dumbfounded.

"And ya have a hellish thirst tonight, nothin' to compare with that fuckin' restrained behavior ya have with Jou-chan or the others."

"Ah, sorry..." He scratched the back of his head and forced a smile as he turned back to his friend.

"Give up the excuses, these drink're on me for once;" he smiled, elbowing the red-haired, "Want another?"

"Huh, I guess..."

He hesitated, then handed his glass again. It was like any other promptly emptied, but his attention never truly returned to the current conversation.

Sanosuke was peering at him silently. He knew that if the wanderer did not want to talk he would get absolutely nothing from him. This man could have a head harder than steel and was naturally not eager to confide. Although it was annoying him strongly (he was officially impatient), he had learned over years to get the best of it : it was better to spend a good time together and leave those problems until later on when he would feel ready to speak - if such a moment ever existed in this life. That's why he maintained the conversation on his own, Kenshin just nodding now and again.

The smell of saké was surrounding the small building enclosed between two other inns. Its wooden tables, worn but friendly, were covered with sticky and odorous traces resulting from the strong passage of individuals throughout the day. The evening continued until numerous bottles were emptied. Nothing unusual for the fighter accustomed to this kind of trip, but much more unnatural for his companion who appreciated so much self-control. He had swallowed the majority of the drinks served without really paying attention, under the half-amused eye of his friend.

Yep, definitely, somethin's wrong.

"... ya better stop here, don't ya think?"

It did not sound like the brawler at all to restrain others' consumption, but something didn't seem right in the samurai's behavior tonight, and he did not like it.

"Hmm." Kenshin put his glass down, awkwardly dropping his elbow on the table. "Let's go."

He got up with the help of his left arm and crossed the door, head bowed.

Sanosuke was following him closely. The samurai had a slightly feverish and unsteady walk. For an innocent eye his balance would seem perfectly normal, but for the trained eye of someone who knew the precise and agile moves of the fighter like the back of his hand, there was no doubt about it : he was dead drunk.

Sanosuke took place at his side while discreetly positioning himself in the background to be able to catch him in case of fall.

"I never saw ya drink this much..."

"Gomenasai" he mumbled

"Stop apologizing all the time, it's becomin' really annoyin' t-"

The wanderer suddenly lost his balance, stumbling on a misplaced pebble. Sanosuke narrowly caught him by placing his arm under his belly.

"Baka, I'll take you back to the dojo."

"... Arigato, S-Sano"

The fighter put his arms around his friend's shoulders, and while supporting most of his weight, walked on the pavement carefully. The wind that had gotten colder by now was playing melody against the surrounding silence, between the leaves of trees barely lit by the nocturnal star. They stopped several times on the way so that the redhead could empty the contents of his stomach, implicitly helped by his friend to stabilize him. As he watched the samurai folded in half, his hair stuck to his face, Sanosuke was thoughtful.

No more words were exchanged that night between the two men. Only the sound of occasional regurgitation and settas hitting the ground punctuated their march.

Next chapter : Enemy of my enemy

#fanfiction #See you in life Beyond #chapter 4 #Rurouni Kenshin #kaoru kamiya #himura kenshin #seijuro hiko #yahiko myojin #Sagara Sanosuke #Saito Hajime #sesshatetsuko

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frederator-studios · 5 years

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Bird Banfe: The Frederator Interview

You might be surprised, talking to people in the animation industry, at how rare it is to encounter a still-kicking passion for cartoons. Bird Banfe is, to borrow Drake’s term, a real one. A recent SCAD Grad with mad Storyboarding skills, a deep investment in Scooby Doo and a penchant for pink, Bird's enthusiasm for her craft emanates from her, an enlightened power not unlike those of the magical girls she grew up idolizing. Hearing Costume Quest’s Production Coordinator speak with conviction, knowledge and love for the shows that shaped her, and those she now helps shape, it’s abundantly clear that her passion is an unstoppable force, and when it comes to Bird’s dreams, my sense is that it’s never been a question of ‘whether’—simply one of ‘when’.

How did you break into the animation industry?

I got the chance to intern at Nickelodeon during my last year at SCAD, on Spongebob. Totally by accident!

Cool! How does one “accidentally” become a Nicktern?

The Dean of our school was PO’d because Nick representatives were visiting campus, but it was finals and nobody knew, so people weren’t showing up. My friend who worked in the animation building called me up and was like, “Hey, there are Nick people here doing general interviews. Come do one!”

So you bailed on whatever you were doing and went?

Yeah! I had like 30 minutes to throw on an outfit, a little makeup. I thought it went awful. Which is how you can expect an interview to go, with no preparation and barely any clue what it’s for. I didn’t hear anything for a couple months, so I figured, eh, good learning experience. Then on the last day of school, I got a call at like 9pm from an unknown number, and didn’t pick up. They left a voicemail - and it was my interviewer! She said she had something to tell me. I was like, “What?! It’s been two months! This could still be a thing?!”

And on the last day of school!

The last day of school - period. I was driving home to New Jersey the next day. No job lined up, flipping out. We got in touch, I waited a bit more, then I got a call from the Spongebob team. From a Skype interview with them, I got the job.

What were your responsibilities on Spongebob?

The same as a PA. Handling files for artists, organizing things, picking up tasks to help the production along. On Spongebob specifically, I did a lot of archiving backgrounds. The show has these beautiful, physical painted backgrounds. Handling those was probably the coolest part of the job. It got really weird sometimes. It’d be like, “Here is the interior of Patrick’s mouth and it’s really gross.” And I’d have to search around to label it, because they go into Patrick’s mouth in like 3 different episodes.

Wow, so you became the in-house expert on Patrick Star mouth shots.

It was a lot of fun! I learned a lot about how animation works. In art school, they don't teach you anything about production. I didn't know what to expect, or really what was expected of me! I'm good at organizing, I know Photoshop, and I work really hard. Those things carried me through the internship.

Backing way up - when did you know you wanted to work in animation?

A lot later than most people would say. I wasn’t drawing on the walls when I was two. I was drawing! But about as much as any kid would. I wanted to be a Veterinarian for most of my life. In sophomore year of high school though, I realized I have a lot of story ideas, and original characters - all the stuff that kids who really like anime would have. And I knew I’d go insane if I didn’t have a creative job. That decided it for me. Not, “I really want to do this!” more, “I can’t imagine a world where I’m satisfied with a different career”.

So as a junior and senior, you geared yourself toward animation?

Yeah - my Uncle was working in visual effects, mainly for superhero movies, so I knew someone ‘who does that’. I knew it was an option, not an intangible dream. I was in art classes throughout high school, because they were fun. But then I started going to an art studio after school to take animation, painting, and life drawing classes - the last of which was a big shock to me.

Oh, wow - you did all the right things!

When you know people who do it, they’ll tell you! “Go take your life drawing classes—there are no other kids in high school drawing naked people, you’ve gotta do it”. I got advice from a lot of people and followed it the best I could. I applied to a bunch of art schools for animation, though none in California. Not even CalArts - wasn’t even a blip on the radar (off my surprise) It was too far for my family! We picked Savannah, and I’m really glad. I had a great time at SCAD.

What did you like best about animation at SCAD?

It was a good fit for my personality. I was very much the go-getter in college - you know, a try-hard. And the school has a ton of great resources if you want to put in the work. SCAD is set up in a way where if you take advantage of everything that’s there, and are willing to work, you'll prosper.

Going into animation, did you have a focus in mind?

I knew from my animation classes in high school on that I wanted to storyboard. I figured that out quickly, mostly because my teacher steered me toward it. He was like, “You’re good at this. You need to keep doing it.” I was like “Okay, will do.” (laughs) I think every role in animation is interesting, and I’m not too picky. I’m sorta glad somebody made that decision for me!

Are you now looking for avenues into storyboarding from production?

Definitely, but I’ve loved my time in production. I can’t see myself doing it forever, but, remember I said I was a big go-getter in college? I pushed myself really hard. I don’t want to say I burned out, but... I wanted time for myself. To learn how to be an adult, do things like cook for myself. Working in production has given me time to breathe and figure out what I value in the industry.

For example - I was accustomed to that air of, “Oh, you want to be on a show with clout, a show that people know”. I realized on Spongebob how little that really means. Tell anybody in the industry you’re on Spongebob and they’ll go, “That’s cool” and maybe mention their friend on the show. It wasn’t ‘celebrity status’, you know? Maybe to my Grandma, but not to people here. I’ve come to see it’s much more important to find a team that really works with you, and Costume Quest was that team for me.

Did being part of a great team help you shelve the art anxieties?

Oh yeah. When I first started in production, part of me was like, “You need to get into art, now. You need to be doing this, this, and THIS you should have done yesterday!” Tons of pressure. But on Costume Quest, I realized, “These are really great people. I like being around them, I like coming to work every day. I don't want to leave.” So I decided I'd do everything I could with this show and this team. And that’s been very fulfilling. Not in a way that I expected—but in a way where I’ve learned about what I need in a workplace.

What’s your Big Goal in animation, if you have one now?

I always feel embarrassed saying this, because I'm just starting out. But I have lofty goals of being a Creator. I just want to make something that’s important to young girls growing up. Thinking about the things that were important to me as a little girl, I want to foster that.

What kinds of Things?

Magical girl shows (laughs). Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew, Cardcaptor Sakura. The very ridiculous, very pink, frilly stories, where the message is usually “Love is the most powerful thing in the universe”. But I think those stories are really important! Empathy is important to teach people, and cartoons do that, today more so than ever. Plus, kindness is actually what kids want: when we tested our show, we got feedback that the kids didn’t like it when our characters were mean. When I was growing up, there weren’t as many US shows that talked about interpersonal dynamics, or hit on the empathy theme: “people are different from you, that’s why they behave differently.” That’s probably why anime was so fundamental to me then. Spongebob wasn’t talking about things that felt important to me at that age, but Naruto was. I’ve always been attracted to stories about people learning what it means to grow up and make the world a better place, and where the characters are fun to watch doing that. Costume Quest definitely is that, to me. I just really like all the characters.

Who are your favorite of the characters? Which ones do you identify with?

I definitely identify with Wren the most—which is not something I should admit to. Very much the stubborn, rough-and-tumble personality. I look at her and go, “Yup, that’s me as a kid.” My favorite character is Rudy, which is really weird. It’s that crazy YouTube-popstar personality - the one associated with “YouTube celebrity” which I just find hilarious. And I love Reynold. I like the dynamic between him and Wren the best.

Do you have a favorite episode of Costume Quest?

My favorites are always the Reynold ones, because they have so much heart. You really feel for the kid. He goes through a lot, and he cares a lot; there’s just no way you can’t. I’ll say “Scout’s Honor”. Of all the episodes we’ve done, that’s probably the one that puts a smile on my face the most. The board artists and writers packed a lot of funny stuff in there, and I love singing along with it.

What have you liked best about working on Costume Quest?

The people, first of all. And it’s just a good show. I live for those moments where I can watch something then go to my friend later and be like, “Remember that part?” and crack up about it. Costume Quest is a lot of that for me.

Anything you’d like future fans of the show to know?

Keep an eye out for a little clown doll. We got a haunted doll last summer, off eBay. His name is Little Richie and he moves around the office. It's so funny. It was actually Julian (interviewed here!) who decided to start hiding him in some of the backgrounds. So he’s now a fun little Easter egg - or a continuity error, depending on the sense of humor of whoever you ask. It’s been so fun having him crop up all over the office. In the freezer, behind a plant. Suspended from the ceiling.

What are your favorite cartoons?

I love love love loved Scooby Doo as a kid. I still do. I love those ridiculous straight-to-video WWE crossovers. They are my guilty pleasure in every sense of the word. So bonkers. There’s John Cena standing next to Daphne. It's great. I was Scooby for Halloween for 5 years. I was obsessed, but not for any reason that I can parse today as an adult. I think I just like dogs. I really liked Chowder. That show, especially that style, stood out to me when I was deciding to pursue animation. Same with Flapjack, a similar vein of style and humor. And with both, it’s these lead characters who are just sweet kids, nothing but nice. Courage the Cowardly Dog I loved, even though I was the most easily scared kid in the world. You might think, “Oh, Scooby-Doo, Courage the Cowardly Dog, you must like scary things.” Not at all. I was deeply afraid. I just loved dogs that much. PowerPuff Girls was huge for me. These days, I have to keep up with every episode drop of Steven Universe or risk getting it spoiled. Star Versus and OK KO! are great too, and Ducktales I really enjoy putting on.

What are you working on now? Do you feel pretty motivated to go do your personal work after the work-day?

My portfolio. And it’s hard. It’s really hard. It took time, but I’ve come to terms with that. You can’t burn yourself out. You have to put body first and figure out the balance you need in life, in order to be happy. I’m also the type that works a lot better in an office setting. So I’m prone to coming into the office at a weird time, if I actually want to get something done. At home, I never get anything done. Unless it’s Sunday. Sunday is my work day. Saturday’s my sleep day.

Bird is now Production Coordinator on Final Space. Follow her on Twitter. Costume Quest will premiere in 2019 on Amazon Prime Video - keep an eye out!

Thank you for the interview Bird! And for helping make Costume Quest the extraordinary show that it is <3

- Cooper ❀

#The Frederator Interview #frederator #scad #costume quest #scooby doo #spongebob #animation #nicktern #production #storyboard artist #storyboard #final space #sailor moon #chowder #cartoons #cartoon #interview #artist

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sarahr3gan · 5 years

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Into the Lion’s Gate

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the direction I’m headed. My choices, my future, my life. Maybe it’s a result of Leo season or maybe it’s the incessant quarter-life crisis I’ve been experiencing since moving to NYC seven months ago.

All I know is I’m craving change. Action. Growth. And it’s going to require effort on my part.

“There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called yesterday and the other is called tomorrow. So today is the right day to love, believe, do, and mostly live.” The Dalai Lama

Our dreams can serve as a powerful motivational force, daring us to do whatever it takes to make them a reality. But they can also daunt us with feelings of impatience, inadequacy, and uncertainty.

I have a lot of dreams. I have a lot of doubts, too.

When I moved here in January, it was the first time I was moving out of my parents house in the suburbs of Buffalo, the only home I’d ever known. Aside from going away to college for semesters at a time, I was very much accustomed to the comforts of living under my parents’ roof. I was excited to finally start out on my own, but knew it would come with its own set of challenges.

Moving to a new city where friends and acquaintances are few and far between has proven to be very hard on my extroverted spirit. Lack of community and isolation has left me drained, uninspired, and ultimately cut off from my spiritual side, which I felt so connected to before moving. My physical, mental, and spiritual health all seemed to be getting worse, but I was determined to make things better for myself. Determined not to give up, and see my dreams through.

So I started going to therapy. Just last month actually. I’ve gone four times so far, and I think it’s helping.

She asked me this past Monday, “What do you do that brings you joy? Makes you feel grounded?” I didn’t have an answer for her. In fact, it concerned me how hard I had to try to think of just one single thing. So I let that question simmer, until later on, when I was hit with an insight so clear I have to call it a “download.” The realization was instantaneous; It was nothing I had to reason through. Suddenly, I just knew.

Community is what I value. Community is the focal point of my hopes and dreams. And community is what I feel I’m lacking at this point in my life.

All these memories of times I’ve felt good were coming to me and it was so clear that feeling connected to others was what made all those moments so special. From live music, to summer camp, yoga classes, festivals, being with friends and family, etc. All the things that made me truly happy involved feeling connected to others. The one exception would be spending time alone in nature, which in a way provides a different kind of connection.

It’s funny how obvious it seems. It was nothing I didn’t already know. Sometimes, it just takes looking at things in a new light to make them that much more impactful.

The important thing about “spiritual downloads” though, is they’re ultimately meaningless until you integrate and embody what you’ve learned. Until you make them real. When I had that “a-ha” moment, I knew I had to take steps to bring about the change I clearly needed. So I am.

Writing this blog is a step in itself, actually. Blogging is something I’ve wanted to get back into for a long time, but for one reason or another always left on the back burner, despite knowing that expressing myself through writing makes me feel connected and light. Some other examples of back burner activities that would better my life include but are definitely not limited to: joining a yoga studio and going consistently to build relationships with other students, teaching yoga, taking up an art class, going to a spiritual center to meet like-minded people and continue my studies, writing more in general, whether it be blogging or journaling or working on my book, reaching out and making connections with new people who make me feel uplifted, inspired, and happy...I could go on. I intend to make a concerted effort for all these things to become a regular part of my lifestyle and routine on the road to my dreams, because I know they will be an integral part of achieving them.

I think for a while I was feeling stagnant, and in many ways trapped, here in New York. It was once a dream of mine to do what I did: move to Brooklyn. So when I got here and it wasn’t immediately everything I hoped for, it was discouraging to say the least. But that’s only made me realize the expression “wherever you go, there you are,” couldn’t be more true.

Yeah, it turns out packing your bags and getting a new area code isn’t a fool-proof way to unlock your greatest potential. Unlocking your potential is a long, painstaking process of unlearning, trial and error, setbacks, and faith. And it starts with the choice to show up whenever possible.

So I’m making a promise to myself, to listen to my intuition and honor my truth. Because it’s one thing to recognize something to be true, but an entirely different beast to act on it. My recent days have been filled with insight and realization, and now it’s time to actualize all I’ve learned and step into my power. To own my truth and seize the life I am capable of creating for myself. Not only because I’m worthy of it, but because I genuinely believe the world will be better for it. When I’m living my truth, I’m acting in love. I’m a positive, inspiring force. That’s what I want to be for others. What I want to be for myself.

Today is August 8th, known in the astrological community as a highly auspicious day when the Lion’s Gate Portal peaks, as the star Sirius sends strong spiritual energy towards Earth. The portal is open from the 26th of July until August 12th, and it’s not uncommon to have intense moments of insight during this time, like the one I just described. It’s also not uncommon to experience synchronicities, heal long forgotten spiritual and emotional wounds, have visits from spirit guides, and feel inspired and free to make changes in your life.

Clearly, I’m feeling it.

I saw Trevor Hall perform a week ago today, and as he sang Green Mountain State, I cried. They weren��t tears of sadness, or even really joy. It was an emotional release. And as I cried I felt the hand of a girl I had just met on my shoulder. A beautiful soul named Chelsea, who I now realize was a guide for me. She reminded me what my true tribe looks like. Because even though we had just met, singing and dancing and crying to Trevor Hall with her next to me felt like the only way that concert was supposed to happen. It was exactly the night I needed, to remember what matters most to me.

I’m so grateful that in all life’s mystery, the Universe grants us signs that we’re on the right track; All is as it should be. Faith tests us like that...just when you think you’ve lost your way, you catch a glimpse of light. And funny enough, it’s often the lessons we learn in the dark that show us the way.

And with that, I leave you with a Lion’s Gate inspired Trevor Hall quote. Om Hari Om!

“And I could see all the gems hiding on the ocean's floor Well I dove in, actually did a canon ball And swam deeper and deeper As things got clearer and clearer And when I saw all of the sharks, I wasn't afraid For this time enshrined in my heart was the Almighty's Name I think my sanity has gone insane I woke up in the Lion's Mane”

#lions gate #lionsgate #spirituality #astrology #hippie #spirit #peace #newbeginnings #my words

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iamliberalartsgt · 5 years

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Why ‘worthless’ humanity degrees may set you up for life

Original Article by Amanda Ruggeri

http://www.bbc.com/capital/story/20190401-why-worthless-humanities-degrees-may-set-you-up-for-life

At university, when I told people I was studying for a history degree, the response was almost always the same: “You want to be a teacher?”. No, a journalist. “Oh. But you’re not majoring in communications?”

In the days when a university education was the purview of a privileged few, perhaps there wasn’t the assumption that a degree had to be a springboard directly into a career. Those days are long gone.

Today, a degree is all but a necessity for the job market, one that more than halves your chances of being unemployed. Still, that alone is no guarantee of a job – and yet we’re paying more and more for one. In the US, room, board and tuition at a private university costs an average of $48,510 a year; in the UK, tuition fees alone are £9,250 ($12,000) per year for home students; in Singapore, four years at a private university can cost up to SGD$69,336 (US$51,000).

Learning for the sake of learning is a beautiful thing. But given those costs, it’s no wonder that most of us need our degrees to pay off in a more concrete way. Broadly, they already do: in the US, for example, a bachelor’s degree holder earns $461 more each week than someone who never attended a university.

But most of us want to maximise that investment – and that can lead to a plug-and-play type of approach to higher education. Want to be a journalist? Study journalism, we’re told. A lawyer? Pursue pre-law. Not totally sure? Go into Stem (science, technology, engineering and maths) – that way, you can become an engineer or IT specialist. And no matter what you do, forget the liberal arts – non-vocational degrees that include natural and social sciences, mathematics and the humanities, such as history, philosophy and languages.

This has been echoed by statements and policies around the world. In the US, politicians from Senator Marco Rubio to former President Barack Obama have made the humanities a punch line. (Obama later apologised). In China, the government has unveiled plans to turn 42 universities into “world class” institutions of science and technology. In the UK, government focus on Stem has led to a nearly 20% drop in students taking A-levels in English and a 15% decline in the arts.

But there’s a problem with this approach. And it’s not just that we’re losing out on crucial ways to understand and improve both the world and ourselves – including enhancing personal wellbeing, sparking innovation and helping create tolerance, among other values.

It’s also that our assumptions about the market value of certain degrees – and the “worthlessness” of others – might be off. At best, that could be making some students unnecessarily stressed. At worst? Pushing people onto paths that set them up for less fulfilling lives. It also perpetuates the stereotype of liberal arts graduates, in particular, as an elite caste – something that can discourage underprivileged students, and anyone else who needs an immediate return on their university investment, from pursuing potentially rewarding disciplines. (Though, of course, this is hardly the only diversity problemsuch disciplines have).

Soft skills, critical thinking

George Anders is convinced we have the humanities in particular all wrong. When he was a technology reporter for Forbes from 2012 to 2016, he says Silicon Valley “was consumed with this idea that there was no education but Stem education”.

But when he talked to hiring managers at the biggest tech companies, he found a different reality. “Uber was picking up psychology majors to deal with unhappy riders and drivers. Opentable was hiring English majors to bring data to restauranteurs to get them excited about what data could do for their restaurants,” he says.

“I realised that the ability to communicate and get along with people, and understand what’s on other people’s minds, and do full-strength critical thinking – all of these things were valued and appreciated by everyone as important job skills, except the media.” This realisation led him to write his appropriately-titled book You Can Do Anything: The Surprising Power of a “Useless” Liberal Arts Education.

Take a look at the skills employers say they’re after. LinkedIn’s research on the most sought-after job skills by employers for 2019 found that the three most-wanted “soft skills” were creativity, persuasion and collaboration, while one of the five top “hard skills” was people management. A full 56% of UK employers surveyed said their staff lacked essential teamwork skills and 46% thought it was a problem that their employees struggled with handling feelings, whether theirs or others’. It’s not just UK employers: one 2017 study found that the fastest-growing jobs in the US in the last 30 years have almost all specifically required a high level of social skills.

Or take it directly from two top executives at tech giant Microsoft who wrote recently: "As computers behave more like humans, the social sciences and humanities will become even more important. Languages, art, history, economics, ethics, philosophy, psychology and human development courses can teach critical, philosophical and ethics-based skills that will be instrumental in the development and management of AI solutions.

Of course, it goes without saying that you can be an excellent communicator and critical thinker without a liberal arts degree. And any good university education, not just one in English or psychology, should sharpen these abilities further. “Any degree will give you very important generic skills like being able to write, being able to present an argument, research, problem-solve, teamwork, becoming familiar with technology,” says Dublin-based educational consultant and career coach Anne Mangan.

But few courses of study are quite as heavy on reading, writing, speaking and critical thinking as the liberal arts, in particular the humanities – whether that’s by debating other students in a seminar, writing a thesis paper or analysing poetry.

When asked to drill the most job market-ready skills of a humanities graduate down to three, Anders doesn’t hesitate. “Creativity, curiosity and empathy,” he says. “Empathy is usually the biggest one. That doesn’t just mean feeling sorry for people with problems. It means an ability to understand the needs and wants of a diverse group of people.

“Think of people who oversee clinical drug tests. You need to get doctors, nurses, regulators all on the same page. You have to have the ability to think about what’s going to get this 72-year-old woman to feel comfortable being tracked long term, what do we have to do so this researcher takes this study seriously. That’s an empathy job.”

But in general, say Anders and others, the benefit of a humanities degree is the emphasis it puts on teaching students to think, critique and persuade – often in the grey areas where there isn’t much data available or you need to work out what to believe.

It’s small wonder, therefore, that humanities graduates go on to a variety of fields. The biggest group of US humanities graduates, 15%, go on to management positions. That’s followed by 14% who are in in office and administrative positions, 13% who are in sales and another 12% who are in education, mostly teaching. Another 10% are in business and finance.

And while there’s often an assumption that the careers humanities graduates pursue just aren’t as good as the jobs snapped up by, say, engineers or medics, that isn’t the case. In Australia, for example, three of the 10 fastest-growing occupations are sales assistants, clerks, and advertising, public relations and sales managers – all of which might look familiar as fields that humanities graduates tend to pursue.

Meanwhile, Glassdoor’s 2019 research found that eight of the top 10 best jobs in the UK were managerial positions – people-oriented roles that require communication skills and emotional intelligence. (It defined "best" by combining earning potential, overall job satisfaction rating and number of job openings.) And many of them were outside Stem-based industries. The third best job was marketing manager; fourth, product manager; fifth, sales manager. An engineering role doesn’t appear on the list until the 18th slot – below positions in communications, HR and project management.

One recent study of 1,700 people from 30 countries, meanwhile, found that the majority of those in leadership positions had either a social sciences or humanities degree. That was especially true of leaders under 45 years of age; leaders over 45 were more likely to have studied Stem.

This isn’t to say that a liberal arts degree is the easy road. “A lot of the people I talked to were five or 10 years into their career, and there was a sense that the first year was bumpy, and it took a while to find their footing,” Anders says. “But as things played out, it did tend to work.”

For some graduates, the initial challenge was not knowing what they wanted to do with their lives. For others, it was not having acquired as many technical skills with their degree as, say, their IT trainee peers and having to play catch-up after.

But pursuing a more vocational degree can come with its own risks too. Not every teenager knows exactly what they want to do with their lives, and our career aspirations often change over time. One UK report found that more than one-third of Brits have changed careers in their lifetime. LinkedIn found that 40% of professionals are interested in making a “career pivot” – and younger people are interested most of all. Focusing on broadly applicable skills like critical thinking no longer seems like such a moon shot when you consider how many different jobs and industries they can be applied to (though for a young person figuring out their career path, it’s true that flexibility also can feel overwhelming).

Specialized technical skills are important in the job market too. But there are a number of ways to acquire them. “I’m very pro-internships and apprenticeships. We’ve seen that that can directly correlate to you having a more grounded skill base in the workplace,” says career development coach Christina Georgalla.

“I even advocate that post-university, if you’re not sure, take a year out and instead of going travelling, actually trial doing different internships. Even if it’s the same field but in TV, say, broadcasting versus producing versus presenting, so you can see the difference.”

But what about the other perceived pitfalls – like a higher unemployment rate and lower salaries?

Why broader matters

It’s true that the humanities come with a higher risk of unemployment. But it’s worth noting that the risk is slighter than you’d imagine. For young people (aged 25-34) in the US, the unemployment rate of those with a humanities degree is 4%. An engineering or business degree comes with an unemployment rate of a little more than 3%. That single additional percentage point is one extra person per 100, such a small amount it’s often within the margin of error of many surveys.

Salaries aren’t so straightforward either. Yes, in the UK, the top earnings are pulled in by those who study medicine or dentistry, economics or maths; in the US, engineering, physical sciences or business. Some of the most popular humanities, such as history or English, are in the bottom half of the group.

But there’s more to the story – including that for some jobs, it seems that it’s actually better to start with a broader degree, rather than a professional one.

Take law. In the US, an undergraduate student who took the seemingly most direct route to becoming a lawyer, judge or magistrate – majoring in a pre-law or legal studies degree – can expect to earn an average of $94,000 a year. But those who majored in philosophy or religious studies make an average of $110,000. Graduates who studied area, ethnic and civilisations studies earn $124,000, US history majors earn $143,000 and those who studied foreign languages earn $148,000, a stunning $54,000 a year above their pre-law counterparts.

There are similar examples in other industries too. Take managers in the marketing, advertising and PR industries: those who majored in advertising and PR earn about $64,000 a year – but those who studied liberal arts make $84,000.

And even while overall salary disparities do remain, it may not be the degree itself. Humanities graduates in particular are more likely to be female. We all know about the gender pay gap, and notable wage disparities persist in the humanities: US men who major in the humanities have median earnings of $60,000, for example, while women make $48,000. Since more than six in 10 humanities majors are women, the gender pay gap, not the degree, may be to blame.

We also know that as more women move into a field, the field’s overall earnings go down. Given that, is it any wonder that English majors, seven in 10 of whom are women, tend to make less than engineers, eight in 10 of whom are men?

Do what you love

This is a big part of why there is one major takeaway, says Mangan. Whatever a student pursues in university, it must be something that they aren’t just good at, but they really enjoy.

“In most areas that I can see, the employer just wants to know that you’ve been to college and you’ve done well. That’s why I think doing something that really interests you is essential – because that’s when you’re going to do well,” she says.

No matter what, making a degree or career path decision based on average salaries isn’t a good move. “Financial success is not a good reason. It tends to be a very poor reason,” Mangan says. “Be successful at something and money will follow, as opposed to the other way around. Focus on doing the stuff that you love that you’ll be so enthusiastic about, people will want to give you a job. Then go and develop within that job.”

This speaks to a broader point: the whole question of whether a student should choose Stem versus the humanities, or a vocational course versus a liberal arts degree, might be misguided to begin with. It’s not as if most of us have an equal amount of passion and aptitude for, say, accounting and art history. Plenty of people know what they love most. They just don’t know if they should pursue it. And the headlines most of us see don’t help.

This is part of why parents and teachers often need to take a step back, Mangan says. “There is only one expert. I’m the expert on me, you’re the expert on you, they’re the expert on themselves,” she says. “And nobody, I really mean nobody, can tell them how to do what they should be doing.”

Even, it seems, if that means pursuing a “useless” degree – like one in liberal arts.

#liberal arts #Articles #BBC #History #Humanities #Ivan Allen College

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and-then-yoi-happened · 6 years

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Do you think there was a misunderstanding on Victor's part when he saw Yuuri's skating video? He was pretty forward with Yuuri that first night, so with that in mind, and also their encounter at the banquet, do you think it possible that Victor saw Yuuri's skating video as more than what would be taken at face value? Almost like a romantic gesture, in a way? Obviously Yuuri was already infatuated, but he didn't himself post the video, so it wasn't *intended* that way.

Thanksfor asking my opinion on this! ( ＾◡＾)

I’msorry this took a bit to answer and please bear with me, because thisgot long (and turned into an over 1,5k meta).

Inshort: A part of him might have hoped to date Yuuri, but not to theextend fanon seems to push this idea sometimes. Here’s why Ithink so:

Victor’spersonality:

I agreethat Victor is a romantic, but he’s so much more than that. A fewother characteristics are: very intelligent, sensible, incrediblyhard-working, a perfectionist, thorough, dedicated to his art, athroughout professional in the world of figure skating (please alwayskeep that in mind). Also, as a celebrity of sorts, I think it’sfair to assume he might tend to be careful when it comes to romance,dating and serious relationships. The show tells us he has a playboyimage, but I think it’s more a media rumour (he might’ve triedsome dates/relationships – we know of at least one – but theynever lasted, probably because he was famous and met a fair share ofshallow people. Another reason could be that he never really fell forthe other person and in the end neglected it in favour of hiscareer/he might have kept things rather casual in the first place andnever really fell in love). I don’t think he’s the playboy thatis his image, but I also don’t think he didn’t try dating or evena casual thing now and then.

What Imean is, despite him appearing to be a romantic deep down, it seemsOOC for me that he would leave everything and rush to Japan at theprospect of a romance, I rather think he’s looking for inspirationand motivation (he offers Yuuri a short-term coaching prospect atfirst, too). This doesn’t contradict that he’s attracted to Yuuriand that he might hope to date Yuuri in the foreseeable future.(Wouldn’t that be romantic! Moving countries, coaching the excitingand surprising Katsuki Yuuri and falling in true love! What if he’sthe one for my lonely heart! A romance just like in the books!)

Hiscareer and where he stands:

He’sbeen unbeatable for years and dedicated everything to figure skating.He’s passionate about it, neglects anything outside of skating,which in the end causes him to lose inspiration and motivation. Atthe beginning of the series, he’s over 30 points in the lead at theSochi GPF, so he’s in perfect condition and shape and nowhere nearretirement it seems. But with 27 years old he is also well-adviced tothink about his future after competing and start to make plans forthat future. I like to think that he wasn’t averse to the prospectof coaching, since the first words we hear him say in the series areactually tips and corrections for Yuri Plisetsky, who is expected tobecome his biggest rival in Russia with entering the senior division.Still, when the reporters ask him at the conference at worlds, justafter earning his 5th and consecutive gold there, hedoesn’t have a clear answer yet, but we later on learn that hestarted to work on Eros & Agape at this point, meaning he plannedto continue. For more on his career, see this meta.

Hisinteraction with Yuuri up until the Sochi GPF:

We gotthe confirmation from the creators that he knew who Yuuri was beforethe GPF in Sochi. He knew Yuuri was a fan of his and that Yuuri isJapan’s ace. The list of world-class competitors of figure skatingis short, meaning it’s a small world and everyone knows each other.

Pleaseremember at this point that Yuuri is an unreliable narrator and canbe hard on himself: looking back at the length of his competitivecareer it’s more than likely that he skated on the same ice asVictor in competitions before season 1, and we probably aren’t toldthat by Yuuri because he wasn’t happy with how he did at thosecompetitions (maybe he just so made the top ten at worlds? Maybe itreally was the first time he managed to get to the GPF and thequalifiers “don’t count”, because he didn’t “earn” toskate against Victor there the way he “earned” it throughqualifying for the final? Or plain and simple, the creators didn’thave the time to add this detail.). Victor must’ve gotten Yuuri’sanxious cold-shoulder every time and asks him for the commemorativephoto after the final when he sees Yuuri looking at him. I think hejust tried to break the ice here, but Yuuri downright rejected himand rudely on top of that.

Duringthe banquet:

There’sa meta that points out how carefully he approaches drunk and dancingYuuri during the banquet that follows. It’s also impossible that hedidn’t notice how drunk Yuuri was that evening (sure, he didn’tknow Yuuri would forget it completely). With Yuuri’s behaviouruntil the banquet and his drunkenness in mind I feel like Victor’smore rational side isn’t really surprised – and didn’t expectYuuri to actively try to reach out to him afterwards.

I also have ahard time to believe that he instantly fell for Yuuri – though I dobelieve that this evening changed something for him (maybe it reallygave him the coaching idea? It at least gave him inspiration for newprograms). Really, I want to believe that he choreographed Eros &Agape thinking of Yuuri, but I don’t know if that’s confirmed.All in all I’d say he walked out of the banquet with a coachingidea, feeling attracted to Yuuri, with maybe a crush and in highspirits, having had more fun in one evening than he had in a longtime.

Thefirst time he sees the video:

Thefirst time he sees the video of Yuuri skating his routine he seemsvery serious and concentrated, in fact I thought that he looked kindof upset the first time I saw the series. Besides analysing Yuuri’sskill closely, he probably wonders why Yuuri stopped competing –he’s not in shape in that video and wasn’t at worlds as Japan’srepresentative. I think he sees the potential in Yuuri to be theserious competition he didn’t have in the past seasons, the rivalthat could’ve made it an exciting and motivating challenge tocompete (remember the +30 points difference in scores between him andChris, something like that doesn’t happen in real life skatingunless the competition is a painful to watch splat-fest).

Also, Ipersonally would be like “WTF?!” at someone who refused to speakto me/acknowledge me at any given chances, but dances with me whendrunk, not to mention the dry humping part, asks me to be theircoach, never tries to contact me about this again, drops out ofcompetition and then recreates my routine to a T, withoutbeing coached, and proceeds to upload it afterwards.

I feellike one of the closest to canon interpretations of this moment is,that to Victor it looks like Yuuri was ashamed of his drunkenbehaviour and after ending things with his coach, trains and uploadsthe video almost directly after worlds to prove himself worthy ofVictor’s time and coaching with it. Demonstrating what he’s ableto pull off and proving that he really wants Victor to be hiscoach. He didn’t just upload anything, but Victor’s mostrecent, incredible difficult, gold-winning routine. And really,Victor’s expression in that scene didn’t strike me as theexpression of someone jumping at the chance of a romantic adventure,to me it always looked like he went “challenge accepted”, trulychallenged for once, able to pull something absolutely surprisingoff.

Moreover,he gets presented with the ability to test if coaching would be apossible post-competing profession. He at first only promises totrain Yuuri for the GPF and if you follow real life skating, you’llknow that not competing for a part of the season isn’t that big ofa deal, it happens fairly often (though in most cases it’s becauseof injuries).

Whenhe arrives at Hasetsu:

A whileago dear Andie posted this entertaining meta, stating that Victorwasn’t expecting Yuuri to rush to the baths when he soaked there,relaxing after his travels, and I agree with that. When he rose todeclare his plans, completely in the nude, he went harder thannecessary (in case we’re going that far withassumptions/interpretation: if he really hoped to get some casual fungoing, why not “hint” that?). He then proceeds to test the watersfurther, meaning he flirts shamelessly during the secondepisode/first night in Hasetsu, but turns it down and stops whenYuuri makes it clear he’s not interested.

Lookingback now, it is clear that Victor was trying to play a fitting role,testing different behaviours, not knowing what else to do since thatwas what he always did. We all know where it ends: he finally decidesto openly ask Yuuri in the beach scene of EP4.

Buthe has tears in his eyes after Yuuri refused to sleep with him!

Yes, hehas. Personally, I don’t think he’s crying because he wasrejected and the grand romance is in shatters now (even if he hopedfor the romance, this wouldn’t be the only reason for tears here).Other reasons for those tears could be frustration and regret.

Frustration,because he had a tiring day of travelling, jet-lag and Yuuri notgreeting him happily, not going “omg you’ll really coachme!!! I’m speechless and so honoured!!!” (for the romance part:Yuuri’s not reciprocating the flirting as well). Regret, because hemight see now that he didn’t think this through and might have madea mistake.

Ingeneral it is quite common to have this moment of frustration andregret shortly after taking a big step, when the possible, bad andunwanted outcome catches up to you and you go “oh shit”. Maybethose arguments regarding the tears may sound like excuses, but Ireally wouldn’t read heartbreak into them, not after all thearguments I brought before.

Inconclusion (TL;DR):

Yes, hemight have daydreamed of and a part of him might have hoped for theperfect love story, but I think it’s ignorant towards the rest ofhis character to reduce his actions to him “chasing tail” or“misunderstanding Yuuri skating stammi vicino for a signalthat Yuuri wants him romantically”. This just ignores all the otherfacts in this meta and is quite a two-dimensional interpretation. Awell written story acknowledges that the world isn’t black andwhite, it gives its characters more than one motivation for (all of)their actions.

I hopeI could give you a satisfying answer with this meta, nonny! Feel freeto ask if you want to know more and/or want me to elaborate.~

#answered asks #yuri on ice #yoi meta #asks #victuuri #I really can't half-ass anything; can I?#anyway; enjoy the read <3 #and check the other linked metas #they're awesome

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