#career restart

[purefilly-connection]

Three Magic Genie Wishes: Building My Dream, Housing Stability, and Cherished Family Connections

You have three magic genie wishes, what are you asking for? Imagine being handed three magical wishes—an opportunity to transform dreams into reality. For me, those wishes would capture the core of my ambitions and deepest values. These aren’t merely wishes for material success but for a fulfilling life that reflects who I am and what I hold dear. Here’s what I would wish for if I had three…

[jesterjaxx]

comic from a 2 month old conversation about Duntrent's first kiss being a shotgun to share a hit

Bonus Duncan when he gets home:

[lorillee]

like its actually so joever

[trans-ralsei]

I think one of the main things that made me wonder if I unintentionally turned on Hard Mode for this life

is the fact that the broadcaster I applied to and wanted to be in

is the only employer I’ve met that has asked ‘are you trans’ right on the application form

first time I applied two years ago I said yes (being too trusting of their diversity and non-discrimination policy)

since then I’ve put No on all my applications

[shiroolynn]

Vasja Bajc ( former coach ) emailing me, asking me to restart jumping basically, was not on my 2023 bingo card

[waugh-bao]

*

[cryingforcrocodiles]

JUST ANOTHER NITE...

[anoseforrottenapples]

HARD LOVE (feat. Andra Day)

@unyieldingvalxr (Since this is ALSO a BIG Mena (and Missy too) song)

[miss-floral-thief]

baseballer baby!

[thoradvice]

i cannot emphasise enough how much you need to create something. anything. it doesn't matter if you suck. you don't need to monetise it, or make it your career. you can restart an old hobby; you can start from scratch. it doesn't matter. you just need to hold something and be able to say "i did that". baking, drawing, painting, writing, coding, crafts, whatever. make something ! you cannot have all your hobbies be a form of consumption. it's fun, it's great in its own right. but the single best action to make yourself feel better, to calm your mind, to gain self esteem, is to Create

[curation-rotations]

Failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realized...And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

JK Rowling, "The Fringe Benefits of Failure and the Importance of Imagination", June 5, 2008

[sageofthestarz]

I think it's a comfort hoodie, and music in the dark kinda night

[swiftfootedachilles]

not to be a stereotypical tranny but im literally a man trapped in a female body and i actually cant stand it

[veritablenonsense]

I so badly want more stories about Yoo Joonghyuk trying to adapt to life after scenarios. Trying to get a drivers license. Trying to restart his career as a pro gamer. Attending parents' day at Yoo Mia's school. Han Sooyoung having to hold him back from breaking the self checkout machine at the grocery store when it tells him there's an unexpected item in the bagging area for the third time. Trying out new hobbies. Learning to put down his sword. Eating fried chicken and pizza with the rest of the company. Re-learning what it means for him to have only one life to live to the fullest.

[nereidprinc3ss]

better late than never

in which uni student fem!reader finally shares exactly what she's been worried about with spencer

18+ for pregnancy scare warnings/tags: pregnancy scare, reader doesn't want to be pregnant, age gap (unspecified) a/n: listennn lots of you guys asked for more spence x uni reader... but u didn't specify WHAT u wanted... so now we're fantasizing about pregnancy scares because we're all what?? say it with me!! MENTALLY ILL!!!!

For the fifth time, you have to restart the paragraph you were reading. For the fifth time, it doesn’t make any sense—words strung together like clashing beads on a dancing string, blurred together by the tears you’ve been fighting all day. Anthropology is by far the easiest of the six classes you’re taking this quarter, but suddenly completing this routine assignment feels like scaling a mountain. It is, of course, nothing in comparison to the catalytic source of your immense stress. The thing you’ve been trying to ignore for nearly a week, and as a result, have become more and more obsessive about. 

A flare of rage overwhelms you and you slam your laptop shut. Then as quickly as it appeared, it dissipates, cooling to desolation as you bury your face in your hands with a sob. You hear paper shuffling from the desk where Spencer has been silently working and you try to reign in your emotions, but it’s too late. 

“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches, slowing to a stop in front of your spot on the couch. “What’s going on with you?”

You sniff, quickly brushing the tears away with trembling hands. But your voice is thick and strained when you fruitlessly attempt to lie. 

“Nothing.”

When you refuse to look up at him, he kneels down in front of you. 

“Really? This doesn’t have anything to do with why you’ve been so quiet these past few days?”

Of course, he noticed. You were a fool for thinking he wouldn’t. Finally you break, looking to him for subconscious comfort. And he’s looking up at you so earnestly, with so much genuine concern in those puppy dog eyes, that the waterworks threaten to start up all over again. Your lip quivers. 

“I can’t tell you,” you squeak. 

“That’s a really scary thing for me to hear. Do you understand why?” His voice is calm, carefully grabbing your hand and bringing to his heart. “Because I need to know if something happened to you.”

You shake your head tearfully, looking down at where you’re weakly grasping the front of his shirt. 

“‘s not like that,” comes your reedy whisper. “Nobody hurt me or anything, I just—I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

“I won’t get mad, I won’t,” he promises desperately, “right now I just want to know what I can do to make this better. I hate seeing you like this.”

A shuddering sigh forces its way out of your lungs. You suppose this is the kind of thing you probably should tell your boyfriend about, as petrifying as it may be.  

“I don’t know, I… I’ve just been freaking the fuck out because I’m worried I’m pregnant, and this would be the worst possible timing—like I know I want kids one day but I’m still in college and you’re like a real adult with an adult career and I don’t want to fuck that up for you and I know that even if I am pregnant I have choices but that’s still so scary and… and I don’t know.”

You’re expecting a long pause, punctuated by some berating and bemoaning, but it never comes. Spencer doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Honey, this is exactly the kind of thing you tell me about,” he says, voicing your earlier thoughts. And he doesn’t even sound furious. You glance up, watching his visage swim beyond your teary eyes. “I am not mad. That wouldn’t make any sense. Do you know who’s fault it would be if you accidentally got pregnant?”

“Well—"

“Mine. So if this ever happens again, please don’t keep it to yourself for so long. I won’t be mad at you for something like this, ever.”

“But… you’re not worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, looking utterly unperturbed. 

“I wouldn’t be worried either way. But no, I’m not concerned that you’re pregnant. We’re really safe. The chances of you being pregnant are essentially negligible.”

“But I’m two weeks late.”

“That can happen when you’re taking six upper level classes,” he agrees, swiping your cheek with a thumb. “You’re under a lot of stress. I’m completely unsurprised that your body is reacting to it.”

A weight like a ton of bricks is lifted from your shoulders, but doubt still lingers. 

Spencer sees the hesitation in your eyes. 

“Would it make you feel better to take a test? Just in case?”

You nod gingerly, wrapping your hand around his wrist. He takes it in both of his, kissing the back before dropping them to your lap. 

“Okay. I’ll go get a couple. But I’m confident that you have nothing to worry about, and I’m usually right about these things.”

You take another deep breath, the last of the anxiety floating away with it. He’s usually right about everything. 

“Spence?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing your palm with his thumb and looking at you with so much love in his eyes. 

“Do you maybe feel like doing my homework for me?”

He smiles. 

“Nice try. Get it done and we can go out for dinner, okay?”

“Always worth a shot,” you shrug. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he stands. 

“And the answer will always be no.”

[cryptidfuckery]

Why am I literally always two years behind being able to afford the rental market and why can't I fuckjng catch up

Anyway question why can I make an average of over 4k a month and still can't find a fucking place to live on my own. In what world does that make fucking sense