#undergraduate jobs near me

[smartsource9]

Non-Voice Jobs in Delhi NCR || Smart Source

We at “SMART SOURCE”, would like to introduce ourselves as an enterprising, conscientious but a young organization, specializing in the business of catalysing the careers of people through Human Recourse Consultancy. We plan to establish a “niche” in the area of HR Consulting through a systematic and “hands-on-approach”. As our motto suggests, the organization and its working revolves around “honest” understanding of the company’s’ requirements on one side and the candidates’ assessment & appraisal on the other.

We recognize the fact that unless there is a complete and symbiotic fit between the two, the roots of a long-standing relationship would not set in, and this is the essence of any good business today. Leveraging high quality resources and our `common-sense` approach, we deliver not only cost effective services but rather a complete package to our clients.

[boredkitkulover]

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[neoballsucker]

𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠

Genre : the neighbors nextdoor

Pair : dilf! jaehyun x fem!reader

Waring : smut , unprotected sex , jaehyun is a father , mentions and usage of alcohol, anal sex , jaehyun is older than he actually is (in his 30s) , legal age gap, non-con (?)

Summary : jaehyun is your neighbor rich handsome and a gentleman but he has a daughter from his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him

W.C : 1.5K

A/N : something quick for jae's birthday (ik I'm late 👎👎)

You've been looking for a job beside college since you moved out to a farther place for your college , you look online and in stores and cafés , you got to know your neighbors, they were all nice and lovely, you also introduced yourself to your next door neighbor jaehyun, he was handsome, respectful , you also heard he used to be married or he always bring girls to his house but he looked the opposite, he looked like a quiet person and calm , his voice was kind of Deep and smooth as well , he told you he owns a company, so you asked if he had any job for undergraduate students, but unfortunately he doesn't, but that's not really important,you then discovered he has a daughter from his ex girlfriend and they left eachother because she was cheating on him ,but they keep in touch just for the poor little girl, it wasn't your business or anything , few days passed and you finally found a job in a café near your house,it didn't pay too much but it was good for a part time job, It was until Jaehyun texted you one day

“Hey y/n”

“Oh hey jaehyun !!”

“Are you still available for work”

“It's just my ex girlfriend traveled due to work and left Yoon with me and I need someone to take care of her”

“Ahh yeah sure , when will your ex-girlfriend come back?”

“After two weeks”

“Don't worry I'll pay you”

“it’s okay you don't have to”

“We can meet at my house and discuss everything. Is that okay with you y/n?”

“Yeah, sure then see you later”

That's how the conversation ended between you two , the day passed , and the next day he invites you to his house, you wear something simple and proper at the same time and put on some makeup and do your hair,you go to his house and knock the door gently,he opens the door his figure was slightly bigger and taller than you

“Oh hi y/n come in” he smiles softly making his dimples appear ,his hair was brown and fluffy he just looked perfect, you smile back at him and gets in the house,it was tidy and clean also so good, there were also some toys you assumed it belongs to his daughter

“Take a seat please” he said after leading you to the living room, you sit on one of the many chairs In Front of you

“So basically you will be here everyday except the weekends , also my schedule is flexible so I don't have specific time to come back home , so don't mind if I came too late”

“No it's okay I'll make sure to take care of her”

“Thank you so much y/n , I really appreciate your help, how much money would you like to get?”

“It'll be for free for a special customer” you chuckle and wink , he smiles and nods

“Fine fine but I'll for sure take you out for dinner once I'm free”

“You don't have to seriously, you have job and her mom is not available, it's okay”

“You sure y/n? You know kids can be tiring sometimes”

“It's okay jaehyun, it's not that much to worry about” of course he was a busy man with responsibilities and well…a child, how can a man like him be in his mid 30s it was shocking how can such a sweet man like be that old some of your friends told you to go after him since he's rich but isn't he too old for you? You usually don't like taking care of children but Yoon was surprisingly a really calm and quiet child just like her dad, jaehyun told she is quiet but can be playful sometimes, she only plays with her toys eat and sleep or watch the TV and sleep , the days passed really quickly surprisingly , jaehyun sometimes comes home early or too late , he can be drunk sometimes,you help him go to bed and make sure yoon is sleeping and then leave the house , this is how it went until yoon’s mom came and took her , jaehyun thanked you and insisted on paying you 1000 dollars, you found it too much but he said it was his first and only daughter it's never too much , you noticed that jaehyun likes to spoil his daughter, her branded clothes and her decorated room and how he gets her everything and anything she wants, food , candy and toys , yoon also adores her dad so much , you notice how happy she gets when she sees her dad , their relationship was so warm and good , you kept working at the café and drowning in college and project and essays you didn't have time for yourself , valentine was soon coming , but who are you celebrating it with? No one you were planning on staying home and just sleep or something,but you remembered that Yoon told you that her dad's birthday was on valentine's day, so you decided to give him a small gift, you didn't know jaehyun really well, so you decided to get him a perfume and maybe cake as well, you went to a bakery near college after you finished classes and got a small cake and went to a near gift shop and got him a gift card and a perfume, you then go home and prepare everything for him, you then go to his house and knock on the door , nobody opens so you decide to leave it In Front of the door , his house wasn't that big you can hear footsteps and some noises, you can't tell where is it from , you can hear some moans , when you realized you can feel yourself getting embarrassed by it and immediately go to your house , days passed since the coincidence , you and jaehyun didn't really talk since you were busy studying and working, jaehyun on the other hand didn't even have time to hang out with his daughter, the work increase more and it became hard to even have a break at home, he was at his office for nearly 24 hours, finally summer vacation comes after hard work and exhaustion,it was all worth it after all , you were finally able to have some fun and discover the city that you're in even more now, you had some fun , you were also able to visit your parents for few weeks, and then returned to your house, you rest in your house and one day you decide to go on a walk around the neighborhood, it was kinda refreshing to go around the place , you suddenly run by jaehyun

“Oh hi y/n”

“Oh hi jaehyun, how have you been doing” you smiled and then remembered what happened a while ago , you panicked slightly but you tried to not make it obvious

“Oh I'm okay, also thank you for the gift on my birthday, I really appreciate it” he smiles softly and gosh these dimples of his , made you melt

“Oh it's nothing much” you smile , shaking your head

“I should treat you , are you free right now? Maybe I'll take you out for dinner.” He obviously just came from his job , he also looked really exhausted and tired

“Maybe next time? You kinda look tired today.” You say with a slightly worried tone

“No no ,I insist!!” he says with slight sarcasm

you sigh and accept his invitation, you were hesitant at the beginning but you tried to keep calm , you go to your house and get ready, wearing a simple dress and high heels, since he told you it will be in a fancy kind of restaurant, , he took you in his car, it looked expensive and clean ,he also looked wonderful and handsome , you finally to the restaurant and order the fokd , you would be lying if you said that the food is not good , it was amazing, everything was amazing, jaehyun was jaw dropping and such a gentleman , he took you to his house suggesting to drink together, you get drunk and things took a turn and all you know is him thrusting his hips while kissing your neck and you moaning and screaming for more , you can't even remember how did you end up like that but you don't want it to end anyways , the sounds of the fraction between your bodies, your moans and his heavy breaths , your vision is blurry , tears about to fall out your eyes , you can hear him groan in a low unaudioble voice. You were at the edge of collapsing due to overstimulation , you felt your release is soon.

“I-i'm gonna-”you couldn't even finish the sentence and felt your release, close your eyes and bite your lips

“You look so beautiful all fucked under gosh” he smirks and keep thrusting inside you until you felt his warm seeds inside you, he falls next to you , looking at you with his brown semi closed eyes and kisses your lips , and you two end up sleeping next to eachother

[theheartbreakprincesss]

red lips and rosy cheeks, a criminal minds imagine

pairings: fem!reader x bau!team (platonically of course) and fem!reader x spencer reid (if you squint a little)

word count: 800ish

warnings: none i think. no use of y/n because i don’t really vibe with that. no angst, a little fluff, maybe? it’s mostly just funny i think. also not beta-read, or like we say in ao3, no beta we die like men.

author’s note: i have been binge-watching criminal minds for a couple weeks now and of course i’m obsessed with it, and this visual of spencer becoming a little flustered over seeing his crush all dressed up popped into my mind. it’s my first time writing an imagine with the reader as the main piece in the story, so idk be gentle with me? i also never wrote for criminal minds and i’m only in season 4. i just wrote this instead of sleeping or actually writing my other fics. sorry if this is terrible anyway. i’m open to feedback! thanks for reading <3

Working for the FBI could be a handful, sometimes, but the job had its benefits. You could catch criminals and help people, make a difference, you know? But something you would never expect to count as a benefit was the possibility of being called in the middle of a date.

You didn’t even want to go on that date, but your long-time friend Emma had insisted she knew a guy that would be perfect for you. Emma knew you since you both were undergraduates working on their degrees, so you had figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the guy a chance.

It wasn’t your best moment.

Not that the guy turned out to be a psychopath or something like that. But the ice of your drink had barely started to melt when it became clear that Sean wasn’t the guy for you, and by the end of your martini, you could see that Sean was too self-centered and trying too hard to be something he was not, with the fake watch and the well-pressed but clearly cheap suit and exaggerated tales of his life. An hour into the date and you were begging to the universe to offer you a way out of that bar.

Thankfully the universe seemed to listen to your plea, and you let out a relieved sigh when you saw Garcia’s name on the screen as the phone rang. Apparently, Hotch wanted everyone at the office right that moment.

That hurry was what prompted you to go into the BAU headquarters straight from your date, thinking that a stop by your apartment to change would take too much time and that you could take the clothes out of your go bag and change out of your outfit once you got there.

“Hey there.” you greeted as you walked into the bullpen. “Is everyone here yet?”

“Rossi and Prentiss are on their way.” Morgan said from his desk. “Wonder boy is getting coffee.”

“Oh, okay.” you mumbled, moving to take off your coat and wondering if you would have time to wipe off the red lipstick before the briefing.

“Damn, pretty girl.” you heard Morgan say, that suggestive tone in his voice that annoyed the life out of you. “Did we interrupt something?”

“Only the most boring date I have ever been on.” you scoffed, nervously fixing your dress. It wasn’t inappropriate or something, just very different from what you used to wear. It had been Emma’s idea, actually, to pair that black sleeveless dress with knee-high boots. “He spent the entire time talking about himself.” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, look at you!” Garcia exclaimed as she got into the bullpen. “You look like a million bucks, darling.”

“Thank you, Pen.” you said. “What’s the case about?”

“A woman went missing in Indiana this morning in the same way three more disappeared in the last month before they were found dead.” JJ told, walking out of her office. “Oh, hot date tonight?” she asked.

“Disappointing, actually.” you laughed. “Can we not talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” you heard Spencer’s voice from behind Penelope.

“About her date.” Garcia said. Spencer joined them as they all stood near your desk, two coffee mugs in his hands. His messy hair was the first thing you noticed, looking like he had been dragged out of his bed. He handed you the second coffee mug, the one with little cartoon kittens stamped on it, then his eyes really focused on you.

“Oh, thank you.” you mumbled, taking a sip of it.

“I– yeah, I…” he stammered, eyes moving up and down, up and down.

“Are you alright, Doc?” you asked, using the nickname you had given him a few weeks into working together.

“Ooh, I think you broke pretty boy.” Morgan laughed.

“It’s probably the red lipstick.” Garcia pointed out, joining Derek in his laughs. You waited for one of Spencer’s famous info-dumps, where he would talk about how red lipstick used to be made out of crushed beetles in Ancient Egypt or something, but he was still silent, lips parted like he meant to say something but couldn’t figure out what.

“Do you need me to reset you or something?” you were now having a bit of fun with it. It wasn’t like you were trying to be mean, but both of you had been dancing around unspoken feelings for a while now.

“I… you look pretty.” Spencer finally managed to say.

You put the mug to your lips, trying to hide the blood that was rushing to your cheeks as Morgan whistled.

“Go on, wonder boy.”

“Derek? Shut up.” then, you looked at Spencer again, who was timidly smiling at you.“Thanks.” you mumbled.

Spencer looked at the mug on your hands, focusing on the stain of your lipstick on the rim of the mug.

“Uh, did you know that the first known red lipsticks were created by crushing gemstones in Mesopotamia over 5.000 years ago?”

•

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Hell Pride University 2: Charlie & Vaggie

Charlie: (unlocking the door to her dorm room, her workout clothes are slick with sweat and rain, cheeks flushed, and out of breath) Thanks again for *pant-pant* helping me out with my stamina and *huff-puff* endurance, Vaggie. I appreciate it.

Vaggie: (drops her soaked duffle bag off on the floor) No worries, Char. Thanks for letting me stay over while the storm passes o- (glances at the dorm) -ooooooh....

-The dorm has a queen sized bed, desk, full closet wardrobe, desk, and is twice if not three times larger than the regular dorms. Kitchenette stands in the corner with a personal shower and bathroom. Razzle and Dazzle are passed out in their oversized dog bed that's too big for them both-

Vaggie: ....Charlie.... why is your dorm room so huge?

Charlie: Oh! Uh! (pulls a spare set of sweat pants and hoodie out of her closet and passes it to Vaggie along with a clean towel) You know..... My dad's the dean of the college.

Vaggie: (takes the clothes and towel) .....And.... that gives you a damn near hotel suite for a dorm?

Charlie: (sweating and blushing) Would.... you believe me if I said I was the Hall Director and lived here full-time?

Vaggie: (jaw drops) Don't you need a master's degree for that? .....Wait.... That's a full-time JOB!!!

Charlie: Well... (pokes fingers together) I'm working on my graduate degree... so... my dad may or may not have pulled a few strings to get me the job....

Vaggie: YOU'RE GETTING YOUR MASTERS AND YOU WORK HERE?!?!?!

Charlie: Vaggie, it's not that bad!

Vaggie: I just thought you were late to going to school like me! How old even are you?!

Charlie: (mumbles and looks away bashfully)

Vaggie: What?

Charlie: ......almost thirty.....

Vaggie: THIRTY?!?!?! I'm twenty-four!!!

Charlie: ALMOST!!! ALMOST thirty!!! I still have two months, one week, and three days....

Vaggie: Ay, dios mio! (plasters her head against the dorm door) I'm interested in a woman who could have been my baby sitter....

Charlie: (perks up and eyes sparkle) You're interested in me????

Vaggie: I-I mean... Yeah... But I thought you were MY age!!! YOUNGER even!!! I was starting to feel like a perv because I thought you were eighteen!!!

Charlie: I'm the same person I was dying on the track fifteen minutes ago, Vaggie!

Vaggie: You probably know how to use a VHS player!

Charlie: I mean. I do, but that's beside the point. Also, they're called VCR's.

Vaggie: (flops onto the bed and groans) Clara and Odette are gonna have a field day when they find out.

Charlie: Clara and Odette? Oh! I didn't know you were a Carmine. I had those two come see me in the tutoring center when I worked there as an undergraduate!

Vaggie: ........of course they did.......

[uzurimisery]

chapter 1: a bet. / gojo satoru

gojo in a suit wearing nice perfume yes please

wc: 2,194

Being a legal secretary was far from a straightforward job. You need to be smart, but not too much, otherwise the insecure old men might lose their minds. You needed to draft and proofread legal documents and thus understand legal ongoings, on top of ensuring important court filings were submitted on time. But being a great legal secretary meant doing so much more, and being a great legal secretary at one of the top firms in Los Angeles? God, did you deserve a medal for doing all the heavy lifting while wearing heels!

Suguru would be lost without you truly, and that’s something the whole firm knew. Your researching abilities gave him a step ahead of the opposing party, and the critical details you had uncovered had saved more than a few cases from being lost. Add to that your legal strategy you were more of an associate than the third years. Which is why for the past six years, you’ve been Suguru Getou’s secretary.

You were friends first, having met at a shitty dive bar near Harvard’s campus in your final years. (He in law school and your undergrad) You didn’t run in the same circles, but it was thanks to an internship you had landed at a third rate law firm near campus, which Suguru also had an internship at, you two bonded. Perhaps over one too many jager-bombs, but what university without those regrets?

Besides those regrets, you got your job now at Masamichi & Associates Los Angeles Branch, which you loved. Minus the 80 work weeks, ass kissing to rich clients, dealing with the first year associates, and the — well, there’s a lot you could say you disliked about the job, but truly you love it. Even if you had to miss out on your friend’s bachelorette party. It was her second marriage to be fair, so you didn’t feel as bad. But yes, you loved your job. Except for right now.

You stood in front of Suguru’s desk, seething with anger. “You used me as a bet?!”

“Y/n, listen,” Suguru said, holding up his hands in defence. “I was certain I was going to win!”

“Oh my god,” you said, shaking your head. “I should throttle you! I mean, what the hell, Suguru? You didn’t even ask me if I was fine with being bet on.”

“I knew you would say no,” Suguru admitted.

“No shit, I’d say no!” you exclaimed.

“Y/n,” Suguru said, standing up from his chair and motioning for you to sit down in his place. “I truly thought he wouldn’t win the case and that I’d actually have to pay up.”

You sat down, plopping down into the chair rather than sitting gracefully. Suguru stood behind you and rubbed your shoulders.

“I can’t believe you,” you said. “After all that we have been through, you threw me away to a half-rate lawyer.”

“Okay, harsh,” Suguru said. “He’s not a half-rate lawyer-“

“You’re the one who called him that,” you pointed out.

Suguru sighed. “Yes, I did,” he said. “But I was just being facetious. I know he’s a talented lawyer.”

“Then why did you bet me on him?” you asked.

“Because I was confident that I was going to win,” Suguru said again. “I thought it would be a funny bet, you know? A little friendly wager.”

“It wasn’t funny,” you said. “It is humiliating. I feel like a prize to be won, not a person.”

“You’re the best person and he’s actually a wonderful lawyer, the best at the branch in Japan, which is why he’s coming to the New York branch. Plus, Satoru is a friend of mine from my undergraduate and law school days, which I still don’t know how you never met him, or Shoko.”

“I was antisocial, Suguru. It’s a miracle I even knew you.” A huff escaped you. “What’s he like?”

“He’s annoying, a bit of a narcissist-”

“Just like you then.” Getou made a face at you, leaning over you so you could see his face.

“He’s good at his job. Smart. Like freakishly so. He likes answering questions too, used to be a TA when we were in high school, so he’ll put up with all yours. You’re gonna love it with him, I promise! And if you don’t, then give it three months and I’ll pay him the 300k instead.”

“Fine…” the dollar amount clicked in your brain. “YOU BET ME FOR 300 THOUSAND DOLLARS?!”

__________

Your heels clicked against the polished wood flooring as you made your way from the Northwest corner office to Suguru’s office on the Southeastern side of the floor. Luckily, you wouldn’t be stuck down on the 53rd floor, where they put transfers. Gojo was clearly one of the best lawyers at the firm if he was taking a corner office, too.

It took you a few hours to get everything set up at your new desk and for IT to move your computer over. Truthfully, you could have done it faster without them, but rules and procedures were rules and procedures. The nice thing was that your desk was bigger now, with an elevated spot for your monitor and phone. Getou would be hearing from you after all of this to upgrade your desk with him.

Gojo wasn’t due to be back from a meeting with Mr. Trent Chow, an investment banker at a hedge fund the firm had been trying to get on the books for a few weeks now, until after lunch, which gave you enough time to go hear all the gossip from the other secretaries about him.

Gojo had worked in the States before, as well as in the UK. He was known for closing deals and was a self-described “winner.” He drank fine scotch and dated even finer women. Apparently, there was an issue in the Japanese branch, with a few ex-clients being barred from the premises after Gojo may or may not have slept with their wives. He was an excellent lawyer, but an egotistical person.

Halfway through your second coffee of the day, expertly crafted by the barista at the Cafe at the ground floor of the building who was hopelessly into you, a body leaned up against the top of your desk.

A tailored pinstripe navy suit by Brioni, a name-brand Italian leather watch by Patek Philippe, and a class ring with the same graduation year as Getou—it wasn’t hard to tell that it was an attorney leaning on your desk.

“So you’re the unlucky secretary sacrificed to Gojo,” she said in a raspy, low-toned voice.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is he that bad?”

“Oh, he’s not bad,” Shoko said with a smile. “He’s just... a lot.”

“How so?”

“He’s arrogant, obnoxious, and he has a terrible habit of flirting with every woman he meets,” Shoko said. “But he’s also one of the best attorneys I know. He’s brilliant, and he’s always prepared. So if you can handle his ego, you’ll be fine.”

“I think I can handle it,” you said with a smirk.

Shoko laughed. “I knew I was going to like you,” she said. “Shoko Ieri, senior partner.” She extended her hand.

You shook her hand. “Y/N,” you said. “Secretary extraordinaire.”

Shoko held your gaze for a moment. “I think we’re going to be a great team,” she said.

“How long have you been at the firm?” You asked her.

“Same amount of time as Getou and Gojo. We all graduated together and got put in the bullpen together, too. Gojo and I ended up back in Japan to help the transition after Masamishi became named partner.”

“Oh, so you went to Harvard as well?”

“Guilty. Still don’t know if it was worth it. You?”

“Harvard too. I was two years under your class and in the undergrad program.”

The chatter between you and Shoko continued for a while, only stopping as Gojo rounded the corner.

6’3” with platinum blonde hair, more akin to white, swept back and styled, only disrupted by a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, that was perfectly coiffed, without a single strand out of place. His skin was pale and flawless, and his cheekbones were sharp and defined. His nose was straight and angular, and his lips were full and sensual.

He wore a tailored three-piece black suit with a maroon tie hanging undone, revealing a glimpse of his toned chest. The top two buttons of his white button-down shirt were undone, showcasing his strong jawline.

His gait was confident and unhurried. He walked like he owned the place, with his head held high and his shoulders back. His demeanour was polished and sophisticated, and he had a natural elegance that seemed effortless. There was an air of authority about him, a sense that he was accustomed to being in charge. He came from a long line of judges, attorneys, and government officials both in the USA and Japan, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he actually felt that way. He was born into it all.

When he reached your desk, he placed a few manilla folders on top of it. Given his reputation, it was easy to guess it was Trent Chow signing on to the firm. You could smell him now that he was closer, and he smelt good. Clary sage wrapped up with pear and bergamot, cushioned by amber and patchouli. He smelt as expensive as he dressed.

“You must be my new secretary.” He smiled, one side going up higher than the other revealing a sharp canine. “Gojo Satoru, best closer in the city and your new boss, though I guess it’s the other way around here. Anyway! Come into my office, let’s talk.”

To say his office was impressive was an understatement. It was a corner facing unit overlooking the expanse of the city. The interior was well decorated, but stilly minimal. A wall of records and books filled with a range of media and titles from the early 1900s to now. His desk was sleek, ornate but not overstated, with the latest generation MacBook idling on it. Two tub chairs sat facing the desk, both at an angle so that the person sitting in it would have to look at Gojo.

Towards the south-facing window was a more expensive version of an IKEA Kallax unit, lined with sport memorabilia and signed basketballs. A few feet away from it was a sitting area. A brown leather couch draped with throw facing a metal and glass coffee table flanked by two dark grey Herman Miller Chadwick modular chairs. On the table was a neatly organised stack of the times layered between sport magazines, and a lit candle filling the room with a rainy cedar smell like a mountain forest in spring.

The most impressive thing might have been that he had the entire office set up for his first day.

Gojo sat down in his office chair and gave a full 360 spin before facing you, propping his chin on his left hand and he leaned forward against the desk and the right removed the sunglasses from his head and placed them down neatly.

Being this close, you could see his eyes for all that they were. They were strangely unnerving, an endless expanse that felt like he wasn’t seeing you, but through you instead. As if under his gaze, lay all your little habits and transgressions bare for him to observe.

He stared at you for what felt like an hour before speaking.

“Sugu told me you were the best. Kept him organised. Helped him manage the litigation of 405 Holdings, created curated lists of clients with detailed information on their likes and dislikes for him to improve relationships with them, and said your view on legal proceedings was better than a fifth year associate,” He dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair “but he didn’t tell me you were gorgeous.”

There was the notorious flirting they had warned you of.

“Mr. Gojo-”

“Please, Satoru’s fine.”

“Satoru,” you corrected, leaning against the armrest of the chair “You’ve got a meeting with Orlando Smitt from Smitt & Sons Petroleum at 2:00 at Le Pavillion, expect for it to take two and half hours as he likes to chat. After that you’ve got a meeting on the Park Holdings case with Suguru, followed by a dinner with Laurence Hill, a potential client in the automotive manufacturing industry with an estimated company value of $1.7 billion, and I’m to remind you that Masamichi wants a copy of your brief on the Trust Development case on his desk by nine tomorrow or your on the next pro Bono case which, I’ve been told, is housing court.”

You rose, leaning over his desk with a hand spread across it “And yes, I am gorgeous, but you think a little sweet talk is all it’s going to take to get me to even have the slightest amount of interest in you?”

Spinning on your heel, you sauntered towards the door, opening it while looking over your shoulder at him

“Oh, and Mr. Smitt is allergic to shellfish.”

Series masterlist: here

[dreadfutures]

University Workers on Strike.

Hi there!

TLDR: My union has called for a strike, starting Monday, Nov 14.

I am not an official representative of the union but these are my personal thoughts, and my reasons for striking, with links to our official UAW platform.

Graduate students, postdocs, and other academic student employees are essential to the teaching and research mission of the University of California, especially as undergraduate enrollments rise. But as greater and greater demands are placed on our work as researchers and educators, we are falling into rent burden and poverty, and suffer unjust treatment by our employers.

We cannot provide the level of research and quality of education that WE WANT to offer our colleagues and our students in these conditions.

Therefore we are demanding:

Wages and raises that meet or beat inflation.

Making the University-owned housing AFFORDABLE.

Increasing access too and affordability of sustainable transit options for commuters

Enshrining protections for workers against bullying and harassment from their supervisors

Among other demands, which can be found here.

What can you do to help?

Undergraduates at the University of California can help us out! Check out @ undergradsforCOLA on Instagram 

Community members can donate to the Strike Pay Fund. As we strike, the university is allowed to withhold our pay for work we are refusing to perform. The Union provides a small stipend to striking workers who are actively supporting the picket line (as I will be).

Keep up on social media and amplify the voices of our union (Santa Barbara’s is included here but there are others, and I do not attend the SB campus personally)

Write to (YOUR PERSONAL) representatives in the California Legislature, as well as the leadership of the University of California, in support of the strike and our demands.

IF YOU DONT LIVE IN CALIFORNIA: In addition to donating and amplifying the movement on social media, look at universities in your state. They’re looking at us right now. Many academic workers have unionized, following our example, over the past YEAR. This is a young movement that will live or die in the near future... and your support--even if it’s just encouragement--can give it power! Contact the local unions for workers like me and voice your support. Contact University administration and local political leaders to encourage them to support academic workers’ rights and compensation. And when academic workers go on strike, show your support with donations, vocal encouragement, and even volunteer on the picket line.

Please reblog this! Talk to people about it.

Below the cut, some more personal explanations.

Some of you may know that I am a graduate student, or more accurately, I am “pursuing my PhD in chemistry.” There is nothing “student” about my situation. I do not take classes. Instead, I perform highly trained laboratory work for the University of California along with countless other Postdoctoral scholars, technicians, and so on. Though the word research might conjure just pictures of me, a scientist in a lab, there is invaluable work being done in Humanities and Social Sciences that take on many different shapes and forms. All of it is done under the auspice of the University of California, and it is THIS that gives the university its prestige worldwide.

When I receive my “degree” I will continue doing the same work I am doing--currently on a $30k stipend--but the jobs I will be looking at pay $90k or much, much higher.

As a researcher, the work I do is severely underpaid in this university setting. It is something that we all DO agree to and put up with for the sake of having this “apprenticeship” time with prestigious professors and older researchers, at institutions that have technology, equipment, and libraries we need for our work.

HOWEVER, in agreeing to this severely underpaid work, we are offered things like guaranteed housing in the local community--communities like Berkely, Santa Cruz, Santa Barbara, Irvine, and San Diego, that are INCREDIBLY EXPENSIVE for people to live in otherwise. Or...some of us are guaranteed. Because EVEN in the University-owned housing, there are:

housing shortages

lack of significant subsidies

rent burden

More than 37% of my income goes to rent every month, and I live in the cheapest possible apartment from University-owned housing. Many academic workers are not even OFFERED the cheaper options, instead being given the “take it, or lose your housing guarantee on campus and fend for yourself in the outer community” treatment...but their offers are for apartments that cost 55% of their income or more. The university is paying us. The university is also charging us through the nose for housing we desperately need and can neither find nor afford elsewhere.

In addition to the insane rent burden we undertake, there are inadequate legal protections from overworking us (our reputations and references entirely depend on our advisors and supervisors Approving, and many of them expect 7am-midnight-or-late work days, 7 days a week), bullying us, harassing us or otherwise abusing us. International workers--drawn here, again, by the prestige of the University’s research efforts--are most at risk, and most unprotected.

There are other issues of equality and fairness at stake here: child support and paid leave, affordable transportation (hey, if we can’t afford to live in Santa Barbara, we will need to commute from somewhere else. Right now there are few options that are affordable, let alone sustainable, to do so), just to name a few examples.

The University also claims to be a leader in labor equality, fairness, and movements. We are among the historical faces of the Free Speech Movement and Vietnam War protests. We are the faces of labor rights research and progressive policy development and sustainable energy research. We are where the Earth Day movement started!

AND YET the University has antagonized union-forming efforts, incentivized anti-union sentiment, threatened and implied retribution for union activities, spends insane amounts of money trying to quash the union and send counter messaging, and seems to want to do ANYTHING other than pay us well.

Here’s an example of one of the latest offers and how insulting it is.

And it’s not just us. Food service workers on campus, custodians, and many others on campus who make things RUN, have gone on strike in the past and showed us how utterly hypocritical our sterling, utopic University is.

It’s just a corporation.

And so we are treating it like one, by going on strike.

I love what I do. I love science, and the research I do is focused on issues related to our energy crisis. The training I’ve received has prepared me to take jobs with IMPACT, that will shape our green energy future.

And I am a passionate educator. Right now I am responsible for ~ 250 students (a portion of our 900 students taking Chem1A right now), with classrooms of 50 students each. These are not ideal teaching conditions and yet I am DEDICATED to using the best pedagogy I have learned to help our most at-risk students succeed in this class. I have a history as a TA of improving student outcomes for underrepresented minority, low-income, and first-generation students who disproportionately fail our classes due to poor preparation at their local high schools, feelings of alienation, and the likelihood that they are working multiple jobs through college while more privileged students focus on classes. I have shown that I care about my students, in ways that even many professors do not.

That is why it is a heartbreaking and infuriating decision to go on strike, but I believe there is no alternative way to make the University improve our situation. We do it for other UC workers who are not compensated as well as we are, and we do it for future graduate student researchers, TAs, and postdocs–some of whom we hope are in Chem 1A right now--and we do it for the students who are not being best-served by graduate students sleeping out of cars, forgoing meals, and suffering from abusive supervisors.

Thank you for your support in whatever form it takes. it has been really encouraging to have friends, family (my REPUBLICAN CONSERVATIVE FAMILY SUPPORTS THE STRIKE), students, strangers, and even my supervisor (again, a red Ohio man lol) supporting this exercise of our legal right to protest, and the demands we are standing behind.

Talking to my advisor was a terrifying ordeal, especially when the other members of my lab were too scared to do it and risk his ire. We have a good relationship with him, but the fact is that he is our supervisor, and his reputation depends on our hours worked, and he could be frustrated. But I couldn’t sleep well if I didn’t participate in this strike, so I resolved to sit in front of my advisor face-to-face, alone, and tell him I was joining the strike.

My advisor isn’t the problem, the structure of the university is. But it was still the most terrifying conversation I’ve ever prepared for. And it went...so well. So, so well.

Our faculty understand that we are under a worse rent burden than they have ever seen or experienced themselves (they weren’t, and aren’t, paid super well either!), and they understand that we care about our work and don’t WANT to stop.

So it’s with great relief, and fervent hope, that I will be joining the strike. I hope whoever is reading this feels INVIGORATED by this movement, no matter the outcome. We are a new generation that is saying enough is enough. We will not tolerate mistreatment. We will work together to make sure we are all uplifted.

My department treats its chem students better than MAYBE any other chem department at the UC. We have it REALLY GOOD. My primary reason for striking is:

Sure. I can put up with some things. It’ll be tight, but I can afford it. Barely.

But I know many, many others can’t. They are my friends and colleagues. They were my mentors in the past. They are who I might be in the future!

Doing it for them is right.

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

the more i think about it the more i realize i am literally so blessed and lucky in my current situation

i don't have to figure out where things are or how to get access to them because i was largely using the same resources in undergrad.

i already have familiar faces around the college of engineering because i took these professors' classes in undergrad and my former TAs are now my graduate school colleagues. even my labmate used to be my TA for two classes.

my undergraduate research lab has a fairly known name attached to it and the methods i learned there are translatable and in the severe off chance i need to ask my old PI about something he's right there. (he wasn't too great at mentoring but at the very least we didn't part ways enemies so i think if ever i need his help with something i can approach him.)

there's mutual respect between me and my advisor and she has an established record of success with mentoring students, pretty secure funding (at least compared to other engineering labs i've heard about), and understands the need for balance and respecting boundaries.

i have a network of science people outside of the engineering school, either because of my job and being a familiar face around the physics building or from my conversations with my sectionmate in orchestra and his wife or from ate dean. and at least with the last two they already made it clear that i can turn to them if ever i need advice or want to talk about graduate school.

i have several pre-established hobbies outside of the field, but i have one particular hobby that is kind of required to be done with other people, so i basically have a completely non-field related social group.

i have two pre-established elder mentor figures way outside of my field, one of whom i see infrequently but is supportive from afar, but the other i see and communicate with on a near-daily basis during the school year, so i already know who else i can turn to.

i picked my research group not necessarily for the thrust, though i made sure to pick one where my knowledge and experience with noble metal nanoparticles would have a little bit of transfer, but for the impression of the PI i received from my interactions with them as well as the prior experience of my peers who worked with them in undergrad. and that hunch was right, i really feel like i am being supported and the extent of that support helps to motivate me to bring forth my best effort.

also i'm being paid, a lot more than i was expecting. which is great

[hxzxrdous]

WAitt omggg how about a student working as an apprentice or smth at CIA and Lorraine is her mentor ???

Atomic Blonde

Platonic Lorraine Broughton x teen!reader

TW: A smol panic attack, :) maybe a warning that I was trying to be funny but failed?

Summary: Basically the plot of the whole movie except the reader unknowingly saves the day, yaay ‼

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

"Well, ladies, I hope you're ready for this," The MI6 superior, Eric Gray said, taking a deep breath as he began to brief Lorraine and you on the situation in Berlin and the death of Gasciogne.

"...We promised Spyglass immunity in exchange for a document on microfilm, code-named The List." Gray spoke, pointing behind him at the projected images.

"Hidden in a Swiss watch, no less." Head of MI6, James Faulkner added, shifting in the leather armchair.

"The list contains every active clandenstine officer, all their shady deals. It's an atomic bomb of information that could extend the Cold War for another 40 years. You two will fly over to Berlin and connect with our man, David Percival. Get the list, bring it here and trust no one."

Lorrained looked over at you and back at Gray. "What's the deal with the kid? She'll have to go with me?"

"Indeed she will. Y/N's fresh out of high school, she applied through the new undergraduate scholarship program we're offering. She's going to be your intern and you're going to be her mentor." Gray replied giving Lorraine a file.

"You should know that sending somebody so young and inexperienced into a job like this puts all our lives at risk, especially hers. She's not ready to be here and I won't have her anywhere near me, especially while I'm working." Lorraine spoke in her distinct British accent, her grip tightening around the file. "And I didn't sign up to be a babysitter."

Gray maintained his composure and replied, "She may not have extensive experience, but she received training from her father, Emmet Kurzfeld." He gestured for Lorraine to open the file, emphasizing the information contained within.

"Y/N Kurzfeld?" Lorraine mused and lifted her eyebrow as she glanced at the file. "Nepotism on a whole another level." She muttered. You gulped down nervously, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Lorraine sighed, pointing to you with her index finger. "You're going to watch me while I work. You are not going to get involved and you are not going to do anything without my explicit permission. Is that perfectly clear? I need to know you understand what I'm saying, Y/N."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. I won't cause any troubles, I promise," you quickly replied, nodding your head.

"You're Elizabeth Lloyd, a Cambridge-educated lawyer sent by James Gasciogne's family." Gray handed Lorraine the forged ID and passport and then turned his attention towards you.

"You, Y/N, you will recieve your cover documentation tomorrow. You'll go to Berlin two days after agent Broughton, you'll communicate with eachother only if necessary. Your role will be to observe her activities from a distance."

"And keep an eye out for Satchel, a KBD double agent who has been MI6's problem for years." 'C' added, tapping the armrest in frustration. "An absolute pain in the ass."

Two days later; location: Berlin - airport

Arriving in Berlin in the evening, Lorraine picked you up from the airport. "Brown suits you, ma'am," you remarked, admiring her wig. "Thank you, Y/N. And feel free to call me Lorraine," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Come along now, I'll arrange for a taxi to take us to the hotel," she added, taking hold of your suitcase. "Will I have my own room?" you asked as you got into the taxi. "Certainly. But don't get too excited; it's right next to mine. If you cause any trouble, I'll be the first to know," Lorraine responded, casting a stern look your way before adjusting her sunglasses.

Upon entering the hotel, Lorraine immediately parted ways with you in the lobby. You glanced around, taking in the surroundings, while she headed off. Your gaze fell to the vibrant green carpet, marred slightly by the presence of an eye-catching orange couch. "Um, I have a room reservation under Monika Weber." You showed the girl at the front desk the forged ID, offering an innocent smile. The receptionist handed you the room keys, her feet finding their way back up onto the desk. "Enjoy your stay," she replied, her attention drifting back to the Bravo magazine, or more accurately, the captivating image of Modern Talking gracing its cover.

Walking down the hallway and into your room, you closed the curtains and began unpacking your suitcase. Startled by a knock at the door, you called out, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Lorraine," came the reply from the hallway. "Oh, right," you responded, opening the door and finding yourself taken aback by the sight of Lorraine in an elegant black dress.

"Are you going out? Can I come with you?" you asked, hoping for a positive response. "No, pumpkin. The club I'm heading to is strictly for those above 18 years old," she explained, placing her room keys behind the red lava lamp on your table.

"Haha, so funny... I thought people can't drink while working." You replied sarcastically. "Besides... I'm not really into partying anyway. Maybe you could at least read me a bedtime story before you go?" you suggested, crossing your arms and adopting a sarcastic tone again.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Lorraine smirked before turning and leaving. Rolling your eyes, you moved the lava lamp when something caught your attention—Lorraine had forgotten her room keys. Observing her blonde hair disappearing swiftly out of the hotel, you contemplated for a moment before deciding to seize the opportunity. Quietly, you tiptoed towards her room, clutching the keys.

"I bet she has a rad wardrobe." You thought to yourself. With a sense of curiosity, you opened the closet, tempted to try on some of Lorraine's coats. The black ones, in particular were really bitchin', bad to the bone. You chose the first one that caught your eye, slipping it on and relishing the feel of the fabric against your skin. However, as you explored the coat's pockets, your hands accidentally came into contact with a wire-like object, causing it to snap. Panic coursed through you as you hurriedly returned the coat to its place, desperately hoping that Lorraine wouldn't discover the damage you had caused to her spying equipment. With a sense of guilt, you retraced your steps back to your room, carefully returning the keys to the spot where Lorraine had left them, before climbing into bed.

As you were beginning to drift off to sleep, several hours later, you heard the sound of Lorraine entering your hotel room and retrieving her keys. "Goodnight, Y/N," she whispered softly before leaving.

Next, morning; location: Your hotel room

You awoke early in the morning, still battling with jet lag and feeling a lingering sense of tiredness. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a brown-haired woman standing at the foot of your bed. "Jesus, Lorraine, barf me out." You sat up, rubbing your eyes.

"I apologize, dear. It's just force of habit," Lorraine responded, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. She placed some snacks and money on your bedside table. "I brought you some snacks from the lobby. If you get hungry or thirsty, just call for room service."

"Do you have brown eye contacts?" You squinted at her, tilting your head curiosly. "Yeah, I have to go see what I'm up against in the east, therefore the disguise." She explained with a smirk. "That's really not fair. Everything suits you," you remarked, a tinge of envy in your voice.

"Um... Lorraine- would you be angry if I like... accidentally... broke... the wire in your coat?" you finally mustered the courage to confess, averting your gaze and staring at the floor.

"The wire? What wire?" Lorraine inquired, raising an eyebrow. However, after a moment, she sighed. "Well, no, I'm not mad. Accidents happen. I'll be back in the evening. Stay here, watch some TV, or maybe go chat with that girl at the front desk. I think she's around your age," she suggested before leaving once again.

"Internship, bullshit. More like boringship. Scam. Bogus." You muttered under your breath. You walked into the lobby, sitting down beside the front desk girl who was listening to her walkman on the tacky orange couch.

"Want a gummi?" she offered, extending a red pack of Hitschler's bubble gum to you. With a shrug of your shoulders, you nodded and accepted. "My name's Klara," she introduced herself with a slight smile. "So, what brings you here all alone?" Klara inquired, her German accent coloring her words.

"My father's side of the family is German, but due to the Cold War, I haven't been able to see my grandparents for a long time. I decided to... you know... get to know Berlin before they come to pick me up next week," you explained. "Get to know Berlin," she echoed, blowing a bubble with her gum and popping it. "Berlin ist eine Stadt, verdammt dazu, ewig zu werden, niemals zu sein," she said cryptically. "Thank God we have music." Klara stood up, offering you her walkman. "Need Your Passion by Sweet Connection." She pointed at the walkman before you listened to the tape. You spent your whole day talking about music with Klara, while enjoying the snacks left behind by Lorraine, and watching MTV in the lobby.

Morning; location: Still your hotel room, hun

You woke up in the morning with a pounding headache. "Hey, Lorraine, I think I have a migr-" Your words trailed off as you took in the unexpected sight before you. Your hand flew to your mouth in surprise as you saw Lorraine in bed with a young woman. "Uh... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry... Please... continue?" you stammered, your face flushing with embarrassment. You quickly closed the door, berating yourself for your poor choice of words, and retreated back to your room. Anticipating an uncomfortable conversation, you locked the door, hoping Lorraine wouldn't bother you.

"Y/N?" you heard her call after you. "I don't want to talk!" you replied from inside the room, your voice laced with frustration. "Y/N, please..." Lorraine's voice carried a mix of sternness and tenderness. "Is this some new spying technique or something?" you couldn't help but inject sarcasm into your words.

"I... Her name's Delphine Lasalle. She's a new French agent. We can trust her," Lorraine explained. "You know, I'm not bothered by her... I just feel embarrassed that I saw..." you began, your voice trailing off.

"It's fine. It's not your fault. I forgot to lock the doors and change the 'do not disturb' sign. It just happened so quickly... and... yeah," Lorraine interjected, understanding the mix of emotions swirling within you.

"Could you at least introduce me to your new 'source'?" you asked, deciding to open the door and unlock it. Lorraine smiled and nodded. "I'm meeting with your father later. If you want, you can come with me?" she offered.

"Good for you, but I'd rather stay here," you replied, choosing to remain in the room.

"That's alright. Tomorrow, I'll be busy again. I have to get Spyglass across the border. The Russians are after him because he memorized the whole list." Lorraine ruffled your hair before saying goodbye.

 

Next day; location: Hotel lobby

Amidst your daydreams, Klara's voice jolted you back to reality. "East Berlin peace leaders have organized a demonstration today at Alexanderplatz. Want to come with me?" she asked. "Sure," you nodded, grateful for the distraction. Klara noticed your pensive expression and inquired, "What's on your mind, Monika?"

You paused for a moment, contemplating your response. "I don't know... I guess I can't wait to see my grandparents again. I miss them so much," you hated lying, but that was your work. You can't trust anybody. Sensing your longing, Klara offered her support. "I'm just about to finish my shift. Let me distract you and help you get ready for the protest," she suggested, standing up from her desk.

Later, the same day; location: Alexanderplatz

"So many people-" you looked around the crowded street. "I don't like it one bit, I can't see sh*t." You said to Klara when you noticed the familiar blonde a few meters before you, walking along with Spyglass. Suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the air, prompting everyone to open their umbrellas. You sensed that something was about to happen, and your anxiety began to rise. The crowd seemed to close in around you, intensifying the feeling of being trapped.

"Not now- not now- Christ-" you thought to yourself, your vision getting blurry from the tears that threatened to fall when you bumped into a guy, recognizig him as Percival. "I'm so sorry, sir!" you blurted out, realizing that he was aiming the gun towards Spyglass, you noticed hus gun had fallen out of his pocket. Overwhelmed by panic, you made a split-second decision and decided to run in the opposite direction, making your way back to the hotel.

"What the f*ck," you whispered to yourself, trying to steady your breathing, but finding little success. You picked up the lava lamp from the table, fixating your gaze on it as a means of distraction. Sinking down to the floor, you leaned against the wall, hugging your knees tightly. Exhaustion washed over you, and before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep right there.

"Y/N?" Lorraine knocked on the door, entering inside when she didn't hear your answer. "Y/N?" She crouched down infront of you. "What happened, Lorraine?" You asked, lifting your head up, rubbing your eyes. "I'm fine. You saved Spyglass from a bullet, I was able to get him across safely. You're going to tell MI6 he is dead, alright? But now it's my turn to ask: what happened to you?"." Lorraine expression turned to worry.

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of how to put your emotions into words. "A friend invited me to the protest, but I started feeling overwhelmed by the crowd and the umbrellas," you explained.

Lorraine's concern deepened as she assessed your well-being. "Are you feeling better now?" she inquired gently.

"Yeah, I think so... You should go retrieve The List. I think we both know who has it," you responded, mustering determination. Slowly standing up, you added, "Maybe I'll go spend some time with Delphine in the meantime?"

Later in the evening; location: Delphine's apartment

"Um- where's the toilet, Delphine?" You asked, clutching your lower belly. Feeling a chill, you closed the window that was wide open. "Right there on the left." Delphine replied, pointing the way. As you entered the toilet, the realization dawned upon you, explaining both your migraine and emotional state.

"Um, Delphine, do you have any pads!?" you called out, feeling a slight blush creeping up your cheeks.

"No, I'm sorry. Want me to go to the store to buy them for you?" She offered. "Yes, please, I'll just wait here..."

About hundred years later; location: Still in the WC-

"f*cking sh*t..." you cursed under your breath as you waited in the toilet for God knows how long. What was taking her so long? Finally you heard Delphine come back, with Lorraine. You cracked the door open enough for Delphine to pass the pad through.

"I've got the list. Percival is dead." Lorraine said, her voice carrying through the hallway as she spoke with Delphine.

"And I can provide you with the photos and tapes that prove Percival was Satchel." Delphine responded. You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well who the true Satchel was.

"I would have never guessed it was Percival," you commented as you stepped out of the toilet. "Can we leave Berlin now?"

Lorraine considered your question before nodding. "Yes, it's time to get out of here. We have what we need, and it's best to make our move."

 A week later; location: MI6 headquarters - interrogation room

"Percival was Satchel." Lorraine said. You observed the tense atmosphere in the interrogation room as Gray pressed Lorraine about the whereabouts of The List. "Where's the list? Where's the list Lorraine?" Gray asked. Lorraine remained defiant, responding with a simple "I don't know."

Faulkner, stood up, stopping the recorder, entering the interrogation room. "We're choosing to bury this one, Lorraine," Faulkner declared firmly. "Your mission never took place. This conversation... never happened. We're putting you on leave. We'll start the next decade well rested... And as for Y/N, she informed us, she'll get a new internship elsewhere."

Three days later; location: Paris - plane

"No way- you killed Bremovych and his henchmen, and you managed for MI6 not to get The List?" you asked, looking out of the porthole, down at Paris and back at Lorraine. You couldn't help but reflect on the events that had unfolded. "Yes I did. You weren't that bad either." Lorraine spoke in her American accent. "She must've gotten that after you, boss." The blonde turned to your dad.

"Breaking the wire that Percival planted in my coat and saving Spyglass and Delphine." She smiled.

"Huh? I know about Spyglass but-" You tilted your head in confusion. "Percival was infront of Delphine's building, trying to get in throught the window, but he saw she wasn't inside. Percival had been on the hunt for Delphine, waiting for an opportunity to strike, knowing she was collecting proof that he was a traitor. He was waiting outside when I found him. Delphine arrived right after I killed him, told me they were out of 'lady products' in the store so she had to drive with her motorbike to a different one." Lorraine explained.

Delphine's unexpected detour to another store for supplies had unknowingly spared her from a potentially dangerous encounter. It was a reminder of how unpredictable and interconnected events could be, and how small actions could have significant consequences.

"That's rad... I still hate womanhood, though." You crossed your arms, frowning.

Lorraine chuckled softly at your comment. "Well, womanhood can be challenging at times, but it also comes with its own strengths and advantages," she said, her voice filled with a hint of wisdom. "You've already shown great courage and resourcefulness, Y/N. Don't let the challenges of womanhood discourage you. Embrace who you are and use it to your advantage." She spoke. "Like you." You added.

Notes: Need yourr passionnn, need yourrr loveee

[thetravelingbard]

A Weekly Aside (2)

09/21/2024

“Travel does not exist without home....If we never return to the place we started, we would just be wandering, lost. Home is a reflecting surface, a place to measure our growth and enrich us after being infused with the outside world.” - Josh Gates

I have taken up writing in the park near my house these past few weeks. I have never been especially good at consistently journaling. However, from my perspective, moving to Scotland is as good a time as any to try, try again. Anyway, today it was what could be considered “typical Scotland weather” with gray skies and horror movie-esk wind. I found myself sitting in shorts, of all things, writing again in my teal little notebook.

When writing today, I found myself considering the idea of ‘home’. I’ve always believed that home is defined by the people you lay your heart with and not so much any actual location. As I settle myself into life in Edinburgh, with love and light in my heart, I find myself missing the people stretched across several thousand miles. This is not a new phenomenon for me, do not let me fool you. Growing up I had family stretched all across the east coast. In college, some of my closest friends ranged from CST to GMT. I am no stranger to long distance friendships. Now that I am outside of the bubble of childhood and my undergraduate degree and forging my own path forward into my 20s, I find myself wishing I could share these moments with my people. It’s these moments that I thank the wonders of modern technology. I know there is endless harm the media has caused in modern society, I am by no means dissenting that. However, I will always be grateful for the ability to connect with people so effortlessly. It’s a bit like being able to bring home with you.

Retrospection aside, let’s get to the life update. This week was the first week of classes. I’ve been trying really hard to compartmentalize things and focus on only one semester at a time. I’m taking three classes this semester: International Relations Theory; Gender, Politics, and Representation; and Core Quantitative Data Analysis 1 & 2. My favorite is by far the second one. I was worried about the quantity of readings required, but so far it hasn’t been too bad. I’m still waiting for the shoe to drop, haha. 

I wanted to pursue International Relations not necessarily for just laws or specific policies, but to learn about people and demographics. My background in Psychology and Communications should hardly make this a surprise. Honestly, I am interested in applying my studies, in all three courses, to people in some way or another. I hope to steer my dissertation in this direction as well. I’ve been told by probably every professor and advisor to start thinking about a potential dissertation topic, which I have been, do not worry, but beyond that…I’m trying to not get too ahead of myself. I don’t really have to begin planning until February, so I do not need to get ahead of myself. 

Aside from that, I’ve been really just trying to adjust to a new routine. I went to a female singing group this Thursday that I am optimistic about as well. I forgot how much I love singing in a choir. Once my tutorials (smaller groups based on the lectures) start this upcoming week, I’m hoping to get a better grasp onto what my schedule is going to be looking like. I’ve also been applying to jobs like crazy, but haven’t had any luck so far. Finger’s crossed! 

Cherish those you call home, wherever they are. 

<3 Serena

[smartsource9]

Undergraduate Jobs Work from Home || Smart Source

We at “SMART SOURCE”, would like to introduce ourselves as an enterprising, conscientious but a young organization, specializing in the business of catalysing the careers of people through Human Recourse Consultancy. We plan to establish a “niche” in the area of HR Consulting through a systematic and “hands-on-approach”. This entire process is followed by elaborate feedback & one to one counselling sessions.

We cater to the broad spectrum encompassing the entire Call Centre hierarchy, ranging from fresher(s) as Agents/CCEs to well established professionals up to the top management level. For e.g., Team/Group Leaders, Supervisors, Managers, Sr. Managers, Technical heads, Finance, business development/transition, H.R & Vice-Presidents.

[r-ene]

day 12/366

spent... 3-4 hours at uni for my subject registration, and in order for me to be able to take all the classes i want and need for this semester so i could end all of my undergraduate classes by november and be able to get my diploma, i still have to wait for awhile for the office of the registrar's feedback on the process my department wants to do to help me with that. it's alright, i've learned to wait patiently during the first semester anyways. what's important is i'm nearing to my end-goal (graduate) !!

while waiting tho, i was able to talk to my clinical instructor and prof for both semesters for 4th yr classes (department head) and i'm really glad and grateful to have such good mentors

my CI gave me tips and cautions for when i start my internship (e.g., if you don't know something, just ask, because it's better to be demerited for being cautious (bc different institutions/hospitals = different standards & protocols) instead of compromising your patient's health and care)

^^ she was also quick to inform me of the first institute i'll be doing my rotation on (bc our rotations consists of adult care, neonatal/pediatrics, mothership and community)

my professor for lectures and research also was quick to say he's very flexible with whatever, because my clinical research 1 would be considered as a "special class" for the sem since what's offered for 2nd semester is clinical research 2

dean, as usual, very helpful. he was the one to settle the discussion on my subjects for the sem and is very willing to talk to office of the registrar's to be able to make things work out for me ♡

overall, it was a productive day despite waiting most of the day:

walked (picked up some fallen flowers while she smelled everything) + fed luna and cleaned her place before i got myself brunch and ready to leave

left together with one of my best friends bc she has her job interview near my first stop

levelled up on my solitaire app while waiting

was able to make it home in time for prayer and worship day 4/7 (traffic was insane, left uni at 430pm and arrived home 710pm)

got stuff printed to aid my review

planned out ideal rough schedule for when i start internship bc i also have solo research and the lectures + luna to take care of, among others

already looked up how to travel from home to my first hospital rotation (there are 2 ways !!)

and so, since i was not able to get coffee within the day, by 9pm i was asleep. woke up at 1130 to eat dinner tho bc havent eaten anything aside from brunch, 2 chocolate bars and a loooooottttt of water (too stubborn to take allergy meds)

also thinking about trying to vlog my process before internship and during and after ?? i kind of want to go through this part of my life where i muscled through but at the same time i feel it would be really hectic

[avarice-n-spice-blog]

The Shift Key: Book 1 of Key Connections

Summary:

Humans have long since roamed the Earth, but beside them there has always been... The Others.

As the first human to work for Ironside Security's cyber division, Raina knows she has a precedent to set. With a shiny new degree and the knowledge that she is the best at what she does, it should be easy so long as she follows the rules.

One assignment is all it takes to ruin her carefully made plans.

What happens when a stubborn techie and a surly tiger cross paths?

Soren had thought the hardest part about becoming the Warden of the Northern region would be keeping his temper in check. Then when people start mysteriously disappearing, his responsibilities put the one person he thought he'd never see again directly in his path.

One mistake could send her back into his memories.

Preorder:

This is my first book and as of right now I'm shooting to have it done by end of year! Please check it out, and enjoy the first ever excerpt below the cut!

Excerpt:

“Soren, just because no one else has physically touched the cameras, doesn’t mean that they can’t just hack the cameras.”

She was back around, hands flying across her keyboard before she could get anxious over how he would take that news. She was already in the midst of pulling up the information on each camera stream access when she heard the sound of something breaking.

Temen’s following gasp but lack of reprimand confirmed that it was probably Soren who had caused the ruckus, as Raina couldn’t imagine Temen letting anyone else get away with it.

Raina felt more than saw Soren come up behind her, her back heating with his proximity. His shadow fell over her shoulder, and she fought down a shiver when he gripped the back of her chair and his knuckles brushed her back.

“Rain, I need you to explain exactly what you mean by that.“

She hadn’t been so close to a man since her brief stint in the dating scene during her undergraduate studies, and she rationalized that was why her entire body suddenly felt like her skin was far too tight.

‘Oh I need you far, far, away from me,’ she thought to herself as she turned her nervous energy into her job.

“What I mean,” she started quickly,” is that if you wanted a truly isolated camera system you should have gone a little more old school and kept it to physical tapes. Downside to that would be the endless reels you’d need to keep confidential, but then,” she said, beginning to punctuate each word with a quick snip and enlargement of specific text-

“-you wouldn’t have this problem.”

Before them were a series of IP addresses that Raina had surmised did not match anyone currently allowed access to the feeds.

She had thought jumping ahead of the curve and showing him the problem would get him out of her space faster, but instead he leaned far enough in that she could feel his hard stomach against the back of her head. Suddenly he was close enough that she could smell him: clean, woodsy, and something that was utterly Soren.

The unexpected familiarity of it broke something in her, the crack beneath her rib cage as sharp as any bone. This was why she hadn’t wanted to come back. At sixteen she had been afraid she couldn’t live without him. Now she was twenty six, and once again she wanted nothing more than to turn into his arms and bury herself in him.

Worse, he wasn’t even in his furry form.

“You wanna translate for me?”

She could practically feel the bass in his voice, the rough under current of his near constant growl rolling through her and making her nipples peak against her will.

There was one haunting second where he leaned in impossibly closer, the heat between them suddenly stifling, everyone else forgotten to her human senses except for the shifter caging her in. She felt trapped in way she couldn’t decide if she loved her hated.

When she saw him brace a hand beside her keyboard, she fought not to think about how the too sharp tips of his claws would feel against her skin.

She was a scant second away from embarrassing herself in front of her entire team when she managed to find the will to bring her chair back in a hard spin, jumping up and knocking him off her.

He was, of course, staring at her with a shit eating grin. Those bright blue eyes of his were shining with the same heat currently burning through her body, so she opened her mouth and killed it as brutally as she killed.

“Translation? Those are all the times someone has accessed your security feeds without your permission.”

The smirk finally fell off his face, but it didn’t make her feel better.

“Who?” he questioned.

Raina eyed him for a second, trying to decide the best way to approach the situation.

“Right now I just know that the feeds were accessed, the who will take more time,” she told him truthfully. She had automatically ran the addresses as soon as they were tagged as unknown, but they had all been fake.

Evidently having finally decided it was safe to join the conversation, Temen said asked “How much time?”

Raina understood the severity of the situation given the fact that the creeps they were looking for where in the people snatching industry. It was a time sensitive situation, and as Raina ran through the possibilities in her mind, the options were not looking pretty.

She could do it for sure, though requesting the necessary access to certain databases would take time. That was what she couldn’t accurately gauge, as her first instinct was to bypass those databases to get to what she wanted. One route was right, and one was illegal.

She knew the right thing to do, though.

Her mouth had barely opened to tell them it would take 5-7 business days to get the proper clearences before Soren was once again demanding her attention. He was in her space in seconds, large body moving with grace.

“You can do it now cant you?”

From inches away, he looked down on her, gaze sure.

So she sidestepped towards her team lead like a coward and shook her head.

“No, I can’t-“

“Can’t or won’t?” he pressed, moving forward.

She threw up her hands in defeat, as if that would stop him.

“Soren its not legal for me to-“

“Legal?” he bit out, voice dropping into something less human, “Since when have the rules ever stopped you?”

[zorosdimples]

your tags SO REAL like I am working a whole 9-5, got a mortgage, like my headspace is no where near undergraduate college anymore T_T if I am imagining my blorbos in scenarios they're like.. my age. adults doing adulting things

i need to make a disclaimer somewhere on my blog that all of my blorbos are at least mid-20s because that’s how old i am. i know i technically didn’t graduate from college all that long ago, but there is such a huge difference in the mindset of an undergrad and someone in the working world. at my job i work closely with a lot of college students, and i just feel light years away from them! i call them “kids” because that’s what they are to me!!!

[seaweedbraens]

sending you those asks and your lovely replies just got me in the feels again so I'm gonna go reread some other fics of yours (cos you've been sinning in this city is my personal fav, i keep coming back to it since years) I'm sure you're way more critical of your own work but i personally feel not-bored and pretty interested to know Frank/Hazel/Piper/Jason's pov which is something rick never succeeded at so yes you're doing a wonderful job!!!!! -kill 4 people anon

that's one of my favorites as well! it just takes me right back to being a dumbass undergraduate. grad school is nowhere near as fun, although i still do get into a fair bit of shenanigans. maybe one day i'll do a slightly less chaotic fic as an ode to my life during grad school.

that makes me so happy to here! wcwsthwas kinda feels a bit like the percy&annabeth show to me sometimes,,which,,,i don't hate it, but i do have arcs for the other characters, too. i'm glad you're still invested.

thanks sooooo much fr :') ily 4killanon

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: John McWhorter

Published: July 4, 2023

The Supreme Court last week outlawed the use of race-based affirmative action in college admissions. That practice was understandable and even necessary 60 years ago. The question I have asked for some time was precisely how long it would be required to continue. I’d personally come to believe that preferences focused on socioeconomic factors — wealth, income, even neighborhood — would accomplish more good while requiring less straightforward unfairness.

But many good-faith people believed, and continue to believe, that it is a clear boon to society for universities to explicitly take race into account. The arguments for and against have been made often, sometimes by me, so here I’d like to do something a little bit different. As an academic who is also Black, I have seen up close, over decades, what it means to take race into account. I talked about some of these experiences in interviews and in a book I wrote in 2000, but I’ve never shared them in an article like this one. The responses I’ve seen to the Supreme Court’s decision move me to venture it.

The culture that a policy helps put into place can be as important as the policy itself. And in my lifetime, racial preferences in academia — not merely when it comes to undergraduate admissions but also moving on to grad school and job applications and teaching careers — have been not only a set of formal and informal policies but also the grounds for a culture of perceptions and assumptions.

I grew up upper-middle-class in Philadelphia in the 1980s. As early as high school, I picked up — from remarks of my mother’s, who taught at a university, as well as comments in the air at my school — that Black kids didn’t have to achieve perfect grades and test scores in order to be accepted at top colleges. As a direct result, I satisfied myself with being an A- or B+ student, pursuing my nerdy hobbies instead of seeking the academic mountaintop. I was pretty sure it wouldn’t affect my future in the way that it might for my white peers.

I have no reason to think affirmative action played much of a role in the colleges I went to, as neither was extremely selective at the time. In grad school, I was told by a mentor, a Black man, that race had been the reason I wound up in the top-20 pile of applicants in linguistics in the department where I got my Ph.D. I had minimal experience with linguistics proper, and my G.P.A. was very good but nowhere near perfect. (Those hobbies!) But I have always thought of that as racial preferences the way they should have been, merely additive around the margins. I’d done well on tests like the G.R.E., my grades in language courses were top level, and I had written a senior thesis that made it clear I had a linguistics frame of mind.

But things got different later. When I was a grad student in linguistics going on the market for jobs, I was told that I needn’t worry whether I would get bids for tenure track positions because I was Black and would therefore be in great demand. Deep down, to me, it felt I was on my way to being tokenized, which I was, especially given that my academic chops at the time did not justify my being hired for a top job at all.

I was hired straight out of my doctoral program for a tenure-track job at an Ivy League university in its august linguistics department. It became increasingly clear to me that my skin color was not just one more thing taken into account but the main reason for my hire. It surely didn’t hurt that, owing to the color of my skin, I could apparently be paid with special funds I was told the university had set aside for minority hires. But more to the point, I was vastly less qualified by any standard than the other three people who made it onto the list of finalists. Plus, I was brought on to represent a subfield within linguistics — sociolinguistics — that has never been my actual specialty. My interest then, as now, was in how languages change over time and what happens when they come together. My dissertation had made this quite clear.

At the time I was not very politicized, and I assumed that my race had merely been a background bonus to help me get hired. Only later did the reality become more apparent, when I learned just who else had been on that shortlist. (I will never forget how awkward it was when I met one of them — older than me, with more gravitas in the field — some years later. I sensed that we both knew what had happened and why.) I had been hired by white people who, quite innocently, thought they were doing the right thing by bringing a Black person onto the faculty. I bear them no malice; under the culture we were all living in, I would have done the same thing.

Around this time I gave some really good talks and some just OK ones; I always knew the difference. But I couldn’t help noticing that I would get high praise even for the mediocre ones, by white people who were clearly gratified to acknowledge a Black academic. And in the meantime, I was hopelessly undercooked for the position I had been hired for. I was not utterly clueless, but I simply didn’t know enough yet — and especially not enough to be in a position to counsel graduate students.

I needed some years of postdoctoral study. They say you don’t really know it till you teach it, and that’s largely true: Having never actually taught a class, I needed to teach some. I needed to hang around linguistics for a longer time in general. There are formative experiences key to being a real linguist that I had not yet had, such as long-term work with speakers of my language of focus, Saramaccan.

The doctoral program I had been in had gone through a phase of allowing students perhaps too much leeway in deciding which courses to take. Many students took this as an occasion to sit at the feet of their mentors and drink in what they knew. But my natural orientation has always been autodidactic, and so I basically went off into a corner and focused like a laser on one issue that particularly interested me — how creole languages form — while developing only a passing acquaintance with linguistics beyond it. With undergrads, I could coast on stage presence, but grad students know the real thing when they see it and when they don’t. I looked like a fool.

I didn’t like it. But because I am obsessive, I ultimately dedicated myself to boning up and then some. I read and read and read. I spoke closely with as many linguists as I could. I took up new interests within the field. I did intense study of my language of focus. I taught classes outside my comfort zone. That is, I became a normal academic.

But it all felt like a self-rescue operation, an effort to turn myself into a good hire after the fact. That backfilling of needed skills is a lot to ask of someone who also needs to do the forward-looking research necessary to get tenure.

Of course, not everyone endeavors this Sisyphean task, and the culture I refer to has a way of ensuring others don’t have to. There is a widespread cultural assumption in academia that Black people are valuable as much, if not more, for our sheer presence as for the rigor of what we actually do. Thus, it is unnecessary to subject us to top-level standards. This leads to things happening too often that are never written as explicit directives but are consonant with the general cultural agenda: people granted tenure with nothing approaching the publishing records of other candidates, or celebrated more for their sociopolitical orientations than for their research.

I had uncomfortable experiences on the other side of the process as well. In the 1990s, I was on some graduate admissions committees at the university where I then taught. It was apparent to me that, under the existing cultural directive to, as we have discussed, take race into account, Black and Latino applicants were expected to be much more readily accepted than others.

I recall two Black applicants we admitted who, in retrospect, puzzle me a bit. One had, like me, grown up middle-class rather than disadvantaged in any salient way. The other, also relatively well-off, had grown up in a different country, entirely separate from the Black American experience. Neither of them expressed interest in studying a race-related subject, and neither went on to do so. I had a hard time detecting how either of them would teach a meaningful lesson in diversity to their peers in the graduate program.

Perhaps all of this can be seen as collateral damage in view of a larger goal of Black people being included, acknowledged, given a chance — in academia and elsewhere. In the grand scheme of things, my feeling uncomfortable on a graduate admissions committee for a few years during the Clinton administration hardly qualifies as a national tragedy. But I will never shake the sentiment I felt on those committees, an unintended byproduct of what we could call academia’s racial preference culture: that it is somehow ungracious to expect as much of Black students — and future teachers — as we do of others.

That kind of assumption has been institutionalized within academic culture for a long time. It is, in my view, improper. It may have been a necessary compromise for a time, but it was never truly proper in terms of justice, stability or general social acceptance. Whatever impact the Supreme Court’s ruling has on college admissions, its effects on the academic culture of racial preference — which by its nature often depends less on formulas involving thousands of applicants than on individual decisions involving dozens — will take place far more slowly.

But the decision to stop taking race into account in admissions, assuming it is accompanied by other efforts to assist the truly disadvantaged, is, I believe, the right one to make.

==

The Left's bread and butter used to be the working class and poor, and advocating for greater socioeconomic equality, coupled with suspicion of big business. Now the loud, active part is being driven by upper-middle class postmodern elites who are completely disconnected from, or even arrogantly scornful of, the working class, and using stupid, pretentious language to make faith-based, evidence-free proclamations about how society functions, without any actual experience in the world.

Suggest, for example, that socioeconomic class is a much greater determining factor to upward mobility and you'll be dismissed as an "alt-right" bigot denying "systemic racism."

I've said it before and I'll say it again: if you want to help underprivileged blacks, help the underprivileged. Improve schools, teach reading the correct way, and stop telling them that they won't succeed unless they go to some high-priced, elite, snobby college, when they can do well at a local college or trade school. The middle and upper classes often succeed in school despite the education system, not because of it, and their success is frequently due to the luxury of time and resources (books, stable, dual-parent home situation) that compensates for the inadequate school system. Close that gap with the working and poor - community-based after school tutoring, reading, libraries, etc.

If your problem with this is that poor white people will benefit, then this isn't really about helping and uplifting black folk, is it?