#Burnout

[wolfsrahne28]

I go blind when I stand up a lot. I’ve had days where I sleep 14-18 hours. I’ve been trying not to throw up. Just girl things.

How are we doing today ladies. Are we still losing it. Are we going completely insane

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Refuge.

[cc-gross]

EVERY. DAMN. DAY! And if I go do my hobby, my feet hurt like hell the next few days! Quote my mom, "Going to work and coming home to eat and sleep is not a life."

[smokinghorse]

Burnout is a jockey and he's riding me to death.

[animentality]

[thepeacefulgarden]

[m0thmancore]

yknow it really bothers me that 95% of conversations i've seen about gifted kid burnout are neurotypicals talking about "oh these kids are upset they don't get to feel special anymore"

as opposed to "yeah these kids have severe self-esteem issues because the only thing they were ever praised for as children was how smart they are and how quickly they learn and now they can't do things if they don't know how to do it immediately because they're terrified of failure because their love always felt so conditional on their performance even if it wasn't"

[hithisiszooz]

some ember and her bandmates art :>

[snowballseal]

Sleepy Affection

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You're tired. Sylus is the best cuddle partner. Lots of soft love here. That's it.

Word Count: 1061

Note: Self indulgent really, I have a hard time with burnout and sleeping in general, but I know cuddling with this man would solve all of that. Sorry if I overused adjectives.

---

Days as a hunter are long. It’s a part of the job, always being alert, always willing to help when the need arises. And you love it. You love being awake before the sun rises, and the exhaustion in your limbs as you walk home. It satisfies the restlessness in your bones.

But still, it’s hard to not hit burnout eventually.

You can feel it weighing down your body as you step out of headquarters. The sun is just rising over Linkon, and you narrow your eyes up at the sky. Of course you worked through the night. It was that or let your paperwork drag into your weekend. Maybe not the best decision. You sigh, rolling your shoulders. Every muscle in your body aches for sleep.

You don’t want to go home, though. It would be too quiet, too empty. If anything, you would probably end up staring at your ceiling, impossibly restless despite how tired you are. And that sounds absolutely awful.

Before you can think too hard about it, your feet are carrying you towards the transit center. To the one place where you feel safe, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t.

---

The N109 Zone is strangely quiet in the early morning gloom. The streets are nearly empty, the only sound coming from the electric buzz of the overhead wires and the snuffling of a stray dog on the corner. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if being a criminal makes you allergic to the day. Or maybe they’re all vampires. An amused hum dances past your lips at the thought. Perhaps they’re not after the aether core in your heart, but your blood.

One man seems to be at least.

By the time you reach Sylus’ place, it feels like you're walking through a light fog. Or stepping into a dream. The home greets you with a pleasant warmth that eases the tension in your muscles. Music drifts through the halls, distant and fuzzy with that old quality that vinyl has. Like a siren song, it draws you deeper into the dark comfort of the manor.

Right to your sleeping dragon.

Even while he’s sleeping, Sylus looks…dignified. Ethereal even. The soft light peaking through his curtains casts a glow on his features, dancing across his white lashes, making them almost look like snowflakes. Your eyes trail over the relaxed line of his jaw, the contours of his chest and shoulders. He lies so still, you could almost believe he’s a statue, if not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He just looks so…perfect.

It’s hard to believe that this is Onychinus’ feared leader. 

Toeing off your boots, you tread carefully to the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, the sheets soft and silky under your fingers. Sylus lets out a low sigh at the movement, red eyes flickering open ever so slightly before falling back shut. Without a word, he shifts and lifts the sheets for you to crawl in next to him.

His warmth draws you in, just like his wispy, old music. You can’t resist it, not that you want to. It’s all the invitation you need to tuck yourself as close as possible, like an exhausted little kitten looking for a safe place to sleep. Sylus immediately draws your leg over his hip, long fingers kneading lazily at your thigh. Every part of you presses against his addicting warmth, drawing a content hum from your lips, completely pliant under his touch. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t complain. But there’s an almost reverent feeling to the way he holds you, the way he traces shapes along your skin and presses gingerly into your wound up muscles.

It’s a rare moment of pure gentleness. No teasing quips. No haughty smirk. Just you and Sylus, the air between you thick with something so incredibly tender. You stay like that for what feels like forever, time lost to soft touches and quiet sighs. Neither of you are willing to break whatever spell has fallen over the room. 

Soon enough, though, the weight of your eyelids becomes too difficult to fight. You tuck your face into the curve of his throat, the scent of his cologne washing over your senses. It’s spicy and warm, like worn leather and rum, just so perfectly Sylus.

You wish you could stay like this forever, floating pleasantly on the edge of sleep with him. Just with him. An indescribable fondness curls somewhere deep in your chest.

“I missed you,” you admit into the crook of his neck, your voice thick with sleep and something vulnerable.

“Mmmm, I was wondering why you crawled into my bed in the middle of the morning.” 

He wasn’t, really. You both feel it whenever you can’t see each other for too long. It’s like the worst feeling of homesickness. He won’t admit to it, but you can feel it in the way his arms curl possessively around your waist, like he never wants to let you go. You slide a hand up to his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his heart under your palm. You’ve missed this. Sylus shivers at your teasing touch, those red eyes finally flickering open again to look down at you, half-lidded and unfocused. You hold his gaze, trying to memorize every detail, every fleck of color, the dark gleam of fondness in their depths, matching your own. This is the real Sylus. Gentle and kind, passion burning just below the surface. The one only you get to see. And you love him more than you’ll ever be able to explain.

You curl your arms around his narrow waist, forehead pressing against his chest, “Is it okay that I came?”

You already know the answer. Still, Sylus humors you.

“I would have it no other way,” he rumbles lowly, lips brushing against your hair. “Now rest, sweetheart, I can tell how tired you are. We can talk in the evening.”

You hum, eyes finally falling shut, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

And just like that, you find it impossible to stay awake any longer, lulled by his words and the sound of his breathing. Every nerve, every worry, washes away, leaving you to fall into the darkness you’ve been craving, dreaming of the weekend you can spend together.

---

Honestly took so long to write. I wanted to moment to feel soft and more drawn out, don't know if it worked. But I hope y'all liked it :)

[itsaspectrumcomic]

It's OK to rest

[liberaljane]

Are you heading for a burnout without even realizing it? For neurodivergent folks, the warning signs of burnout may look different and be harder to recongize. 

Neurodivergent or not, we all need to understand our limits and boundaries. When you’re neurodivergent, you may not know you pushed yourself too far - until it’s too late!

Need help with some of the terms in this post?

😎 “Masking” or “Camouflaging": a coping strategy that many neurodivergent people use to suppress aspects of themselves to appear neurotypical. It’s important to note that social masking is a tool many neurospicy folks use to keep themselves safe, and usually starts in childhood. 🥄 “Spoons” refers to Spoon Theory, which is a metaphor describing the amount of physical or mental energy that a person has for daily activities and tasks. It is a helpful tool for disabled and neurodivergent folks to describe their energy. 👋 “Stim” short for "self-stimulation" is a term used to describe repetitive behaviors or movements that people may engage in to help cope with emotions. It may include rocking, flapping hands or twirling. 

If any of this resonates with you, try letting the “mask” slip a little! 

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Stay

[backalleycatgirl]

Hey transfems who refuse to go to sleep because the evening has been the only time you have every had to yourself throughout your entire life and now you don’t want to go to sleep at decent times…

hai :3 im one of you hehe,,, also very bored so dms are open if ya wanna chat :3

[mothmonologue]

My life is a constant cycle between "I need to rest before I burn out" and "I'm wasting my potential, I should work harder"

[titleknown]

REBLOG IF YOU'RE EXTREMELY BURNT OUT DESPITE ALSO FEELING LIKE YOU'VE DONE NOTHING WORTHWHILE AT ALL WITH YOUR LIFE!